And with this the dwarves have emerged victorious. They control both garrisons, although they have lost their leader. Durburz has been forced back to the fort with Greszif and Blayser was lost at their Garrison.
Thus the Dwarves are the victors!
The dwarves at the southern garrison held a small feast in honour of Gimli, he had been seriously wounded and was being taken by his guard to the nearest friendly settlement, and then Erebor to inform the King under the Mountain of the news.
The celebrations went long into the night, but Orin had gone to bed before then proud of his own heroics and his warriors'. If he hadn't then the scout, resting outside his tent, would have delayed his news until morning.
"There is some grave news my lord." He told.
"Well, speak freely, this is a dwarven realm after all!" Orin boasted, but the scout looked at the captain as if this wasn't the case. "What news then?"
"The local rebels, they have mustered."
"How many?"
"Many more than both dwarf companies could deal with." And his face went pale. Orin paused and gave the scout a very stern look.
"I don't think you heard me. How many?" Orin insisted.
"Five companies. Three are peasants, two are heavily armoured. They will reach the fort within three days." Orin's face then also turned pale.
"Well then. Tell the dwarves we move out before midday tomorrow, and send word to Hatain that we move north to bolster their forces." Orin moved to enter his tent, but the scout blocked him.
"There is one more thing." He held out a scrap of badly folded parchment, with a poor scrawl on it and goblin markings...
To be Continued...
Fish
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