Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"I have 350 men here!" Rynar declared.

"We have just over 2,000 left..." Elenthor choked out, visibly emotional. His earlier recklessness had caused catastrophic losses for the Star Elves.

"My forces are down to just over 1,000," Thranduil sighed deeply. Their bold charge into Singrey had come at a heavy price.

"It's still too few! We lack sufficient frontline units!" Rynar massaged his forehead in frustration. 

Singrey would require a garrison force of at least 1,000 troops, leaving their combined forces at under 3,000. 

Facing the overwhelming orc horde without proper frontline support would spell disaster for the coalition.

"By the gods! Where are the Three Kingdoms of the Lonely Mountain? We need them!" Elenthor cried out, his agitation palpable. 

The scattered orc forces around Singrey were like thorns in his flesh, constantly pricking at his patience.

"They should be on their way. Don't be so harsh on them—they're primarily heavy infantry. 

Not everyone has the mobility of our royal guard," Rynar said, patting Elenthor on the shoulder. For now, he'd have to tolerate this unruly barbarian pacing in front of him.

"Fine, you've convinced me..." Elenthor muttered, though his lips twitched in irritation. Indeed, expecting the "short-legged" dwarves to sprint through the dense forest was unrealistic.

"For now, let's clear out the orcs near all the exits. Once reinforcements arrive, we'll deal with the ones holed up in Dol Guldur," Rynar suggested.

"Agreed. Let's clean up the area first," Elenthor nodded.

"Kill these invaders!"

"Slay them!"

"For the honor of the knights!"

"Charge!"

Led by high-ranking professionals, the soldiers surged through the barrier's exit and attacked the orcs stationed outside. 

Caught completely off guard, the orcs were thrown into chaos. 

Perhaps the Nazgûl had fled too hastily, forgetting to order the withdrawal of the orcs guarding the barrier's exit. These unfortunate orcs had been left behind to die.

Against the ferocity of the coalition forces, the outnumbered orcs—despite their attempt to hold the line—were utterly overwhelmed.

"Slice!"

"Argh!"

In the chaotic orc camp, Rynar's royal guards carried out his orders with precision: execute the wounded. 

One by one, the half-dead orcs were decapitated by the guards' greatswords. Even the rare orcs who tried to counterattack managed only to scratch their plate armor.

"That's it? Orcs are just this pathetic," Rynar remarked, shrugging dismissively as he watched the effortless slaughter. 

With the participation of sixth-tier combatants, the orcs couldn't even hold against a single charge. His interest in personally slaughtering the orcs quickly waned.

"Indeed. The addition of sixth-tier professionals makes battles almost trivial..." Elenthor reflected, recalling the failed assault on Dol Guldur. 

The turning point had been his injury during a surprise attack, which forced him to teleport away. 

He owed his survival to Elandor, the fourth-tier Dragon Knight, who, alongside his dragon companion, had held off the lone Nazgûl (Khamûl) stationed there. 

Without their intervention, a Nazgûl rampaging through the elven army would have caused unimaginable losses.

"That makes me wonder—what's the point of anyone else? 

A single sixth-tier combatant can replace thousands of lower-tier soldiers, yet thousands of lower-tier soldiers can do nothing against a sixth-tier one..." Rynar mused, dejected. 

Witnessing the devastating power and resilience of sixth-tier combatants left him feeling lost. 

Even the notoriously fragile elves could withstand two backstabs from a Nazgûl and live to tell the tale—a testament to the terror of sixth-tier power.

"No, no, they are absolutely necessary! Don't forget, every legendary sixth-tier professional started as a low-tier novice, step by step—just like us!" Elenthor countered passionately. 

"Lower tiers are the foundation for reaching greater heights. Besides, as you can see, we sixth-tiers are a rare breed. Full-scale wars still rely on armies like yours."

"You should focus on growing stronger instead of questioning your purpose. Even non-professional soldiers have value, King Rynar," Elenthor advised, seeing Rynar's momentary doubt.

He understood this struggle well. Once, he had also wondered about the value of low-tier forces amidst a sea of high-tier elites. 

But the devastating losses at the Black Gate battle had shown him otherwise. 

High-tier combatants were often occupied with Sauron's elite forces, leaving the outcome of the battle in the hands of the "ordinary" soldiers.

"You're right. I've been overthinking it," Rynar chuckled, shaking off his doubts. The overwhelming advantage of high-tier combatants only mattered in unbalanced encounters. 

The Zaltarion Kingdom, however, boasted its own sixth-tier forces, making it well-equipped to defend itself.

"Welcome, Balin! King Bard! King Aranthor!" The group opened their arms to greet the arriving reinforcements.

"Oh, my friends! It seems everyone's here. Now, listen closely to the gifts we've brought you!" Balin, the dwarven leader, grinned beneath his snow-white beard.

"As you wish! We're all ears," Rynar said with a playful bow.

"Ahem, allow me to explain. We've brought with us a full contingent of 1,000 heavy-armored dwarven warriors! 

That's right—heavy armor! And please forgive our slight delay. After all, short legs in full armor don't make for the fastest march," Balin teased with a wink.

"Thank goodness! This is the best news I've heard all day. We were in desperate need of frontline troops. 

We couldn't risk letting our rangers get bogged down in melee with those wretches. 

Once surrounded, it's nearly impossible to pull them out!" Elenthor exclaimed, visibly relieved. 

While they held the upper hand in high-tier combatants, a large-scale melee could still spell disaster for the coalition. Losing ten orcs for every elf was still a net gain for the enemy.

"I've brought ten knights, forty cavalrymen, and fifty pikemen!" King Aranthor announced before anyone could speak.

"Thank you for your support!" Elenthor responded gratefully. 

Despite its recent founding, Aquavia had already suffered heavy losses as one of the main battlegrounds of the Lonely Mountain war. Sending 100 reinforcements was no small feat.

"I bring fifty warriors and 150 guards from the Dale!" King Bard added, his larger numbers reflecting his relatively better resources.

"This is excellent. With these reinforcements, we finally have the strength to mount another offensive against Dol Guldur!" 

Thranduil said, his voice trembling with anticipation. That place had once been the capital of the Woodland Elves, a home they longed to reclaim.

"King Rynar... about your promise..." Balin sidled up to Rynar, rubbing his hands together sheepishly.

"Of course. This summer, I'll lead Zaltarion's warriors on an expedition to reclaim Moria's mines with you!" Rynar confirmed with a grin. 

After all, the reward for this mission was a Dragon Knight—a prize no one would turn down.

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