"Chariots, rally! Aim for the Trolls' knees!"
No sooner had Thráin roared his command than the War Goat he rode reared up, narrowly dodging the club swung down by an Uruk-hai Troll.
Two chariots flanked the Troll, their archers continuously firing arrows at the Uruk-hai Troll that attacked Thráin's eyes, while the chariots' sharp ramming horns smashed hard into the Uruk-hai Troll's left leg.
However, the giant's thick, black iron kneepad merely sparked, and it staggered a few steps. But the chariots' ramming horns twisted and broke off, and the chariots themselves rolled and disintegrated from the recoil.
Then the Uruk-hai Troll stomped its foot, and the screams of the archers and drivers exploded simultaneously with the sound of metal shattering.
"Switch to chain maces! Entangle it!"
A dwarf lord led the dwarf heavy infantry to stand in front of Thráin, and twenty chains, like a spiderweb, entangled the Uruk-hai Troll's limbs. The iron chains were then quickly secured to the chariots by the dwarves.
The War Goats dragged the chariots, attempting to pull it down, but the Uruk-hai Troll grinned and yanked the chains, sending both chariots and goats flying into the air, where they smashed against the cliff face, splattering blood.
At this moment, another Uruk-hai Troll, wielding a massive stone hammer, broke through the dwarves' front line and approached Thráin. It smashed down hard on the shields of the heavy infantry blocking Thráin's path, and the immense impact instantly shattered the shields, sending the heavy infantry behind them flying backward.
Thráin watched the fallen dwarves, his eyes bloodshot, and raised his battle-axe, wanting to charge forward, but he was held back tightly by several other dwarf lords.
At this time, a portion of dwarf light infantry returned from the fiercely contested front line.
They lit torches and threw oil jars at the two Uruk-hai Trolls rampaging through the heavy infantry formation. The ceramic oil jars made a crisp shattering sound on the Trolls' iron armor, and dark, viscous oil slid down the grooves between their helmets and armor.
Then the light infantry threw their torches, and flames erupted over the heads and chests of the two Uruk-hai Trolls, quickly penetrating the gaps in their iron armor like venomous snakes.
Under the armor, the Trolls' grayish-black thick skin instantly curled and carbonized, and foul-smelling grease seeped from the folds, further fueling the fire.
The two Uruk-hai Trolls simultaneously threw back their heads and let out a deafening shriek of agony, swatting at their flames, trying to tear off their heavy iron armor.
However, the iron armor on their bodies had been burned red by the flames, and when the Trolls' hands touched it, they let out even more piercing screams, while a sizzling sound emanated from where their fingers touched the iron armor.
The burning flames drove the two Uruk-hai Trolls into a frenzy; they began to frantically beat their chests or wildly swing their clubs everywhere.
And the dwarf light infantry continued to throw oil jars at them, fearing the flames would extinguish.
The Uruk-hai Trolls' helmets gradually melted, and the molten iron armor directly glued itself to their eyes, with blue-green pus splattering as their charred eyeballs burst.
The excruciating pain gradually caused the two Uruk-hai Trolls to lose control of their bodies, and they fell to their knees.
The heavy infantry seized this opportunity, swarming forward and fiercely thrusting their long spears into the Trolls' heads and other exposed body parts, finally bringing down the two Trolls.
But the dwarves' situation did not improve; in fact, it became even more perilous than before.
A third and fourth Uruk-hai Troll appeared consecutively from other caves, accompanied by common Trolls and even more orcs.
Their target was not Thráin, but rather the ballistas and catapults in the rear that were constantly firing crossbow bolts or stones at the sides of the cliff.
While Thráin was dealing with the two Uruk-hai Trolls, these war machines did not stop; under the dwarves' control, they had already slaughtered too many orcs and common Trolls.
Or rather, if not for the continuous support of these war machines, the combined front line of dwarf light and heavy infantry would have collapsed long ago.
A Troll wielded a massive stone hammer, smashing it hard into the base of a catapult; the wooden frame groaned and broke, and the counterweight stone fell to the ground, burying two dwarves who had not had time to jump off the catapult.
Other catapults, seeing this, immediately ceased firing and attempted to relocate.
But the Trolls, with their long strides, ran faster than the dwarves, quickly catching up to another catapult and smashing it again.
The situation with the ballistas was no better than with the catapults; it was also chaotic.
If the War Ram Knightss were still here, they could have protected the ballistas and catapults with their mobility, but now they had all been taken to support Dain.
The front line, without rear support, immediately began to totter.
When a dwarf lord was smashed into the rock face by a club, with only his legs twitching outside, the defense line finally could not hold. A continuous stream of orcs, at the cost of their numbers, overwhelmed the defense line that the dwarves had desperately built up.
"Orderly retreat! Contract the formation!" Thráin's roar was already hoarse.
The survivors stumbled backward, leaving streams of blood on the snowy ground.
The orcs and Trolls, however, were not in a hurry to pursue, especially the common Trolls; they deliberately used their clubs to pick up severely wounded dwarves and throw them high into the air, enjoying the muffled sound of bones and flesh as their prey hit the ground.
Thráin's eyes were bloodshot, and his battle-axe had three chips, constantly dripping black orc blood.
He ground his teeth: "Damn Azog…"
On the battlefield, a horn blast echoed from within the Misty Mountains, and the orcs and Trolls even halted their pursuit of the dwarves upon hearing it.
Only when the massive Uruk-hai Trolls came to the front did the horn blast sound again, and the orcs and Trolls resumed their charge towards the dwarves' contracting defense line.
Just as Thráin's battle-axe cleaved into an orc's collarbone, and foul black blood splattered on his breastplate, a piercing eagle cry, sharp enough to split clouds and shatter stone, cut through the thick fog.
Thráin looked up and saw a Great Eagle first break through the clouds, its wingspan seemingly covering half the battlefield.
The moment this Great Eagle spotted the dwarves, it flapped its wings, stirring up a hurricane that tore the mist into shreds, revealing twelve equally massive Great Eagles behind it, and allowing some sunlight to penetrate.
Several common Trolls, unexpectedly struck by that ray of sunlight, immediately shrieked and trembled, turning into lifelike stone statues.
The leading Great Eagle cried out again, and three giant Eagles immediately flew to its flanks, joining it in creating turbulence and generating strong winds to disperse the haze shrouding the dwarves.
The gloom that had enshrouded the battlefield for half a day was torn apart by the air currents created by the Great Eagles, and sunlight, like golden arrows, pierced through the clouds, splattering dazzling light spots on the blood-stained armor of Thráin and the dwarves.
On the ground, the Trolls had already shrieked and used their massive bodies to knock away unsuspecting orcs nearby, fleeing towards the caves where they had previously hidden, as soon as the first ray of sunlight appeared.
Even the Uruk-hai Trolls, upon noticing the sunlight, let out panicked roars, and no matter how much the orcs controlling them struck, they could not prevent them from also beginning to flee, wanting to return to the dark caves.
One Uruk-hai Troll, more thoroughly modified, even threw off the orcs riding on its back, stomped them to death, and then fled.
The Great Eagles' keen eyes, upon noticing the Uruk-hai Trolls, had already locked onto them as their next targets.
They folded their wings and plunged straight down like arrows, each Great Eagle having its own target.
One Great Eagle's steel-hooked talons clamped onto an Uruk-hai Troll's neck, and the Troll's panicked voice instantly turned into a suffocated gurgle.
Then this Great Eagle spread its wings and ascended, the head and a section of spine in its talons being violently torn off, black blood cascading like a waterfall onto the upturned faces of the dwarf soldiers.
Another Great Eagle used its beak to pierce the ear canal of the Uruk-hai Troll it targeted, and brains spurted from the other eye socket.
Even more Great Eagles swooped low over the battlefield, their left talons tearing open an Uruk-hai Troll's breastplate, and their right talons digging out its still-beating heart.
The Uruk-hai Trolls did try to retaliate by swinging their clubs, but the Great Eagles always twisted their bodies with incredible agility to evade.
Thráin, upon seeing the Great Eagles appear, quickly reacted after a brief moment of surprise, and shouted joyfully, "The Great Eagles are here! Our allies have arrived!! Work with the Great Eagles, and smash out the brains of these orcs and Trolls!"
The King's shouts rallied the dwarf soldiers, who used iron chains to entangle the Uruk-hai Trolls' legs, which were now preoccupied, or drew their battle-axes to hack at their Achilles tendons.
With the help of the Great Eagles, Thráin's army gradually turned the tide of the battle.
Without the Trolls harassing and destroying them, the chariots, catapults, and ballistas once again unleashed immense power, inflicting devastating casualties on the orcs and Trolls.
The symphony of slaughter in the air and on the ground continued for half an hour, and the orcs also began to flee.
When the last living Uruk-hai Troll tried to escape into the rock cave, it was surrounded by three Great Eagles.
Like birds of prey toying with their prey, they took turns swooping down, one talon tearing open its shoulder plate, one beak pecking its knee to pieces, and finally crushing the Troll's skull.
The surviving orcs completely collapsed; they threw down their weapons and shrieked, burrowing into rock crevices. Occasionally, an unlucky one would be targeted by a Great Eagle, plucked out, and thrown high into the air.
The leading Great Eagle circled in the center of the battlefield, letting out a long cry, and finally landed near Thráin.
Thráin walked towards the Eagle King, and the Great Eagle lowered its head to meet his gaze, its golden eyes reflecting the dwarf King's blood-stained cloak.
Thráin bowed slightly and respectfully said, "I, Thráin, son of Thror, King of Durin's Folk, thank you for your assistance."
The Great Eagle made no sound, only silently looked at Thráin for a few moments.
After confirming he was the dwarf King that Gandalf had asked for help, it stirred up a gust of wind laden with snow, flapped its wings, and flew up, calling out to its kin who had followed it.
The flock of Eagles shrieked in response to this cry, soaring into the sky and disappearing into the gradually dispersing mist, just as suddenly as they had appeared.