Thráin's boot sole ground against a charred orc arm, and he looked up, watching the Great Eagles depart.
It wasn't until the Great Eagles flapped their wings and left that he noticed the leading Great Eagle had left a letter for him, tucked under a small stone.
He walked over slowly, picked up the letter. The yellowed envelope was stained with ice shards and black orc blood. He opened it and saw Gandalf's unique Runic symbol on it.
"Gandalf's handwriting, that old fellow…"
Thráin smiled slightly, immediately realizing the letter must have been written by Gandalf.
Although the handwriting in the letter was a bit messy, it was still clearly legible, indicating that Gandalf had been in a great hurry when he wrote it.
Thráin's eyes scanned the scrawled characters, and his tensed shoulders gradually relaxed.
Gandalf wrote in the letter:
[Thráin,
If you are reading this letter, it means the Great Eagles have finally found you.
I am aware of Dain's predicament, but do not let anger blind your eyes.
I, along with Arthur, the Lord of Erdtree, and Bard, the current Master of Lake-town, have organized personnel to support Dain; you need not worry too much.
Bolg, Azog's son, attempted to usurp Lake-town, but he has already been slain by Arthur's sword.
Under the protection of Humans and Erdtree, Dain will be safer than the ale in your cellar.
Hold your ground, Thráin.
The glory of Durin lies not in recklessness, but in wisdom.
Additionally, the main army of Erdtree is also on its way to the Lonely Mountain.
You only need to lead your army with peace of mind and rendezvous with us.
—Gandalf]
After reading the letter, Thráin let out a long breath, his worries slightly eased.
Although Gandalf did not mention the Great Eagles in the letter, Thráin knew that the Great Eagles who suddenly appeared and helped him were requested by the old wizard.
He muttered to himself, "It seems I owe Gandalf a huge favor, and I owe that Lord of Erdtree another. Arthur, oh Arthur, though we've never met, once Azog is slain, I'll send you a cartload of the finest dwarvish liquor, enough to turn your Erdtree into a drunken tree!"
The reason Thráin said "another" was because he remembered that his body had recovered so quickly from its near-death state precisely due to the miraculous healing ability within the Golden Tree Territory.
He put the letter away, turned to the dwarvish Lords beside him, and said, "Brothers, we have received good news. Dain will be very safe in Lake-town, and reinforcements from Erdtree are already on their way. We only need to continue forward and rendezvous with them to jointly fight Azog's army."
Then he looked at his personal guard beside him and commanded, "Tell the soldiers to forget about the fleeing orcs! Reorganize the formation, count the casualties, and tally the losses. Although the mist has been dispersed by the Great Eagles, we still need to be careful these next few days. Send out more scouts, be alert, lest that orc scum Azog ambushes us again further down the road."
"Yes!"
The personal guard took the order and left.
Under the transmission of Thráin's personal guard, the surviving dwarvish soldiers began to consolidate their formation.
Heavy infantry struck their shields with warhammers to signal, while light infantry climbed rock walls to retrieve undamaged arrows.
Remains of chariots were piled into temporary roadblocks, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt animal fat and blood, occasionally mixed with the groans of wounded soldiers.
The surviving dwarvish Lords also departed to assess the losses of their respective armies.
However, one dwarvish Lord remained standing, not leaving; it was the same Lord who had previously advised Thráin to calm down.
Thráin noticed the other's thoughtful expression and asked, "What's wrong, my brother, what are you thinking about?"
The dwarvish Lord snapped out of his thoughts and then spoke what was on his mind: "What I'm thinking might make you a bit angry, Thráin. I was just wondering if we could get the Elves of the Woodland Realm to join us in the matter of the Lonely Mountain."
Indeed, when Thráin heard the words "Elves," his brows furrowed, and a look of disgust appeared on his face.
But soon, the disgusted expression vanished, and Thráin nodded with a normal expression: "Continue."
The dwarvish Lord was taken aback; he had expected Thráin to curse the Elves' ancestors with the foulest dwarvish words, but he had not anticipated such calmness.
"You… you're not going to curse me?" the dwarvish Lord stammered.
Thráin glared, "I've been tormented by orcs in Dol Guldur for so many years; at a time like this, are we still going to bicker with pointy-ears? Spit it out, what do you want those long-legged sissies to do?"
The dwarvish Lord immediately said, "If those pointy-ears can join in, with them containing the west side of the Lonely Mountain, we can concentrate our forces to assault the main gate of the Lonely Mountain!"
He swallowed, adding, "The Silvan Elves in the Woodland Realm are very skilled in combat, as you and I have witnessed. If they can advance from Mirkwood, Azog will definitely have to disperse his forces to defend the flanks."
Thráin pondered for a moment, then said, "After we cross the Misty Mountains, I will send an envoy to the Woodland Realm, but I cannot guarantee whether they will agree."
"I am willing to go to the Woodland Realm myself as an envoy and meet their pointy-eared King," the dwarvish Lord volunteered.
Thráin nodded, looking at him, "Good, then we'll do that. But if those Elf brats put on airs, come back immediately."
While Thráin and his company were still traversing the Misty Mountains, a small interlude occurred within Mirkwood.
Sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, casting dappled shadows as Legolas moved gracefully through the forest, his footsteps remarkably clear in the serene environment.
Soon, Legolas arrived before his father's throne.
Thranduil had his eyes closed, as usual, one hand supporting his cheek, the other gently caressing the Golden Dewdrop pendant on his chest, its cool touch like a clear spring flowing through his palm.
This pendant was the one Arthur had given him.
Thranduil had been in good spirits lately because the pendant Arthur had given him had healed the burn scars on his face that had not healed for many years; the hideous scars left by dragon fire had long since vanished.
Now Thranduil no longer needed to use magic to conceal his face, and thus he had been holding banquets recently.
He reclined on his antlered throne, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders like a waterfall woven from moonlight, even his napping posture appearing as if meticulously sculpted by a Bard.
Upon hearing Legolas's footsteps, Thranduil's eyelashes fluttered slightly, and a subtle smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He didn't need to open his eyes to know it was his son, for Legolas always moved like a swift breeze carrying the scent of cedar, his footsteps sharp like an arrow piercing the air.
"Father."
Legolas stopped ten paces from the throne, simply bending slightly at the waist before straightening up, omitting the elaborate Elvish court etiquette.
The soles of his boots were still caked with mud from the edge of Mirkwood, and a few strands of cobweb clung to his cloak, clearly indicating he had just returned from patrol.
Thranduil slowly opened his eyes, the faint smile on his lips vanishing in an instant, and he became the stern Elven King once more.
His clear voice echoed near the throne: "The moonlight has not yet permeated the canopy of Mirkwood, Legolas. The harps for the banquet have not yet been tuned, yet you have already struck up a hasty prelude."
Legolas frowned slightly upon hearing Thranduil's casual words: "The Dwarven forces from Iron Hills have already cooperated with humans in Lake-town to completely annihilate the orc pursuers! Azog's soldiers' bodies were thrown into the icy lake like fish bait, and now humans and Dwarves are preparing a counterattack on the Lonely Mountain! And you—"
He paused, pointing to the busy attendants he had encountered along the way, who were weaving winter berries and moonlight roses into banquet arches.
Then Legolas said, "—And you are letting your people immerse themselves in endless feasting, even drawing border patrol teams to carry wine barrels!"
Thranduil propped up his elbow, gazing at Legolas, and spoke in a calm tone: "Legolas, you always like to wrap the smell of gunpowder in your cloak and bring it into my hall. Although Lake-town is very close to Mirkwood, there is still some distance. How did you come by this news?"
Legolas replied, "It was Tauriel. When her team was tracking those large spiders outside, they heard sounds from Lake-town, so they approached and witnessed the battle of humans and Dwarves fighting orcs together."
"Tauriel," Thranduil murmured the female Elf's name, rising from his Antler Throne.
A hint of displeasure flashed across his face as he paced over to Legolas, raised his hand to straighten his son's shoulder armor, and then stepped back, saying, "She should be fulfilling her duties, hunting those large spiders and clearing their nests, not being distracted by other commotions. Legolas, I think you should spend less time with Tauriel, a lowly Silvan Elf."
Legolas's face showed a bewildered expression; he didn't understand why his father wouldn't let him contact Tauriel, but at that moment, he was even more bewildered as to why his father was indifferent to what was happening in Lake-town.
He said earnestly, "Father, compared to spiders, the orcs to the north are the real threat!"
Thranduil chuckled softly, his voice like an icy spring striking cold rock: "orcs... they will never break through Mirkwood's defenses. It was so hundreds of years ago, and it will be so hundreds of years from now."
Just then, a clear female voice suddenly asked, "What if they go elsewhere? Like those large spiders, they are no longer spreading from the south, but have left Mirkwood. What if they went somewhere else, say, Lake-town?"
Tauriel's slender figure slowly appeared a few steps behind Legolas. After respectfully bowing to Thranduil, she continued, "My team and I have been patrolling nearby these days. The spiders have started to disappear, and a war between humans, Dwarves, and orcs has broken out in Lake-town. Lord Thranduil, I believe I must find out what exactly happened at the Lonely Mountain."
However, Thranduil's reply was beyond Tauriel's expectation, and even Legolas wore an expression of disbelief.
"Other places have nothing to do with me," Thranduil said calmly. "The trajectory of the world's fate is always fluctuating, but within this kingdom, we shall endure forever. As for those Dwarves, let them gnaw at each other with orcs among the stones of the Lonely Mountain. Elven arrows should not sing for the Dwarves' ill-gotten gains."
Tauriel listened to Thranduil in silence, speechless, then bowed again, preparing to leave.
But Legolas raised his hand, stopping Tauriel from leaving, and asked Thranduil, "What about those humans?"
Thranduil frowned: "Those humans in Lake-town? Ah, I can only express my regret for them. I am willing to offer them refuge in my kingdom when their homeland is destroyed by Orcs; this is the mercy I grant them."
Legolas shook his head, raising his hand to point directly at the Golden Pendant on Thranduil's chest: "I wasn't talking about the humans of Lake-town, but Arthur, who gifted you this pendant."
Upon hearing this, Thranduil smiled, shaking his head faintly: "Arthur? With his strength, even if all those Dwarves die, he will be fine. I trust him."
Legolas then gave Tauriel a meaningful look, and Tauriel immediately understood and spoke: "But Arthur is not alone now. Although I don't know how he did it, when the orcs entered Lake-town, he did lead an army of about a thousand men to assist the humans of Lake-town and the Dwarves of Iron Hills."
Legolas said, "Arthur is leading his compatriots from Erdtree into battle, Father. You just accepted his gift; can you really stand by and do nothing? Wouldn't that make us ungrateful, just like those Dwarves?"
"Don't compare Elves to those Dwarves!" Thranduil's voice was filled with anger for the first time, but then, realizing he was speaking to his own son, his expression softened slightly.
At this moment, the sound of harps being tuned drifted from outside the hall, signaling that the banquet was entering its preparatory stage.
Thranduil paced back to his Antler Throne, gracefully arranging his robes, and looked at Legolas and Tauriel: "If Arthur needs the Woodland Realm's help, I will naturally grant his request. Now, Legolas, you should go choose the brooch for tonight's banquet. Remember to pick the one inlaid with green crystal; it will make your complexion look less gloomy. As for you, Tauriel, continue your patrol after your rest."
After saying this, Thranduil closed his eyes again to rest, though the frequent rise and fall of his chest showed that his emotions had been greatly stirred by Legolas's words.
Seeing his father's demeanor, Legolas knew that nothing he said now would be heard, so he looked at Tauriel, signaling with his eyes for her to leave with him.
But Tauriel did not leave; instead, she continued to respectfully address Thranduil: "Your Majesty, besides the news about the spiders, I have one more thing to report to you. During patrol today, my team and I also discovered that in the south of Mirkwood, countless Goblins are traversing the forest. They are from the underground kingdom in the Misty Mountains, undoubtedly heading towards the Lonely Mountain."
After she finished speaking, without waiting for Thranduil to open his eyes or say anything, she immediately left with Legolas.
Thranduil only opened his eyes after the two had left, his brow tightly furrowed as he pondered something.