The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth.

Chapter 423 The Mighty Army of Iron Hills!
"Cough cough! Fight! Sons of Turin!" A person who surprised everyone appeared deep in the cave. The person's bleeding arm trembled as he raised a warhammer and let out a deafening roar.

"Bahrain!" Olli rushed over to help him up.

"You need to rest! This is not your battlefield!" Ou Yin's expression also changed drastically, after all, Balin was the backbone of everyone, the King of Moria!

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown! I have become the king of this land! I will fight here until I die! This is my mission and my responsibility!" Balin pushed away Ori, who was trying to help him up.

"Fight! Dwarves of the Longbeard Clan! Fight! Sons of Turin! If I fall before you, do not be alarmed, do not grieve, brandish your weapons until death! I will serve Turin and bless you! Fight! Great Moria dwarves!" Balin roared hoarsely, a trickle of blood staining his white beard red from the corner of his mouth...

"Cough cough..." Balin coughed up a mouthful of bloody phlegm, his eyes filled with savagery and murderous intent. He was, after all, the Lord of Moria! Even if he was a king in his most wretched state, he was still a king. As you can see, the King of Moria had not yet lost his glory!
"Bahrain, you're in bad shape!" Orioyin whispered. They knew about the huge wound that had torn open Bahrain's chest and abdomen, and it was hard to imagine that it was caused by an arrow!
“This place needs… me, I am the King of Moria! The kingdom needs the protection and leadership of its king!” Balin insisted, fearing more the loss of Moria in his hands than death itself…

"Kill!" Balin roared, taking the lead and smashing the first orc to the ground with his hammer.

"For our homeland! For our kingdom! For our king! The Turin dwarves fight!" The remaining dwarves followed closely behind, engaging the orcs in a bloody battle at the eastern gate alongside their king...

After an unknown amount of time, the orcs that had surged in like a tide suddenly vanished completely, leaving behind only scattered limbs and the wailing of orcs who were still alive...

"Help the wounded! We can't afford to lose any more compatriots!" Bahrain, panting heavily, could no longer hold on and collapsed to his knees amidst the pile of corpses, gasping for breath.

"Pfft!"

"Pfft!"

"Crack!"

With the crisp sounds of blades piercing flesh and bones shattering, the orc who had been lying on the ground groaning suddenly "fell asleep," a testament to the advantages of youth! As for the wounded dwarves, they would search carefully; if they were still breathing, they would receive immediate first aid; if they unfortunately perished, their people would bury them in the cave...

"How many people... do we have left!" Balin's lips moved, and he finally managed to mutter these words with difficulty. You could see the hope and longing in the old dwarf's eyes. How much he wanted to hear a number that would put his mind at ease. At this moment, Balin was like a pitiful old man on his deathbed, waiting for his fate to be judged.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness Balin…we only have less than two hundred men left who can fight…and with women and children, we have less than a thousand,” Oli said with difficulty.

"Oh no! Turin... I... I am a sinner..." Balin cried out in anguish. He was no longer the majestic Moria dwarf king he once was, but an old man who had watched his shattered kingdom and the deaths of his people. He was pitiful and pathetic.

Balin shakily stood up, leaning against the wall. His eyes were filled with resentment and regret, pain and anger intertwined, his teeth clenched tightly, his face taut...

“Bearded above, how many of our people returned to their homeland, hoping to live a happy and peaceful life… It’s my fault! I can’t give them anything!” Balin covered his face, tears streaming down his face.

Behind them, Ouli and Ouyin watched Balin sobbing uncontrollably, at a loss for what to do. They could only quietly stand behind Balin and watch him lick his wounds alone.

Looking at the devastated eastern gate of Moria, Bahrain suddenly had a disorienting feeling of time travel. He stretched his hand outwards with all his might...

"The Battle of Azanubiza... King, Father, Brother..." With Bahrain's murmur, the strong old dwarf finally collapsed in grief and indignation on the floor mixed with blood and dirt.

"Bahrain!" Orioyin cried out as he rushed forward...

"Speed ​​up! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Ironfoot Dain, riding his wild boar, kept urging his Ironfoot army to move forward at full speed.

Like a long, steel dragon, the Iron Legion was followed by a string of argali sheep laden with supplies, and the entire army charged rapidly toward Swiftstream City.

"King Roland! I need help!" Ironfoot Dayin was the one whose voice preceded his arrival. He shouted from afar, and his voice could be heard clearly even two miles away from the city.

"The Ironfoot Dwarfs are here! It's the King of the Ironhills!" Caslo, who had rushed back, appeared beside Roland.

"Let's go see them!" Roland didn't stand on ceremony. After all, they were all in the same boat. He wanted to go out and see Dain to see how he was doing lately.

"Are you alright, Dain?" Roland asked as he rode out.

"Let's talk as we go!" Dain hurriedly drove his wild boar to Roland's side.

"You know about Moria, right?" Dain asked.

“Of course! Is there anyone in the entire North who doesn’t know?” Roland couldn’t help but ask.

"Thorin has gone mad! He actually led a group there himself!" Dain complained to Roland, looking so aggrieved.

"It was a miscalculation, but I can understand his eagerness to save people. Also... what the hell are you doing here?" Roland finally realized that this guy had been talking about Thorin for so long, but he hadn't mentioned a word about him, had he?

“Can they be the same? I am only the King of Iron Hills! He is the King of the Downhills!” Dain retorted, dissatisfied.

"Tell me, what do you need my help with?" Roland didn't intend to argue with Dain about this matter, since both dwarf kings seemed to enjoy charging into battle anyway.

(Yunfeng: Can't you look at yourself before you criticize others? Have you no shame at all?)

"Yes, I do have something to trouble you with. My troops need to cross the river!" Dain spread his hands, clearly indicating that the dwarves did not have boats to cross the river.

“I understand. I will have my ship take you to the other side! The rest is up to you. I cannot participate in the battle directly this time!” Roland nodded.

"Yes! But you still need to pay more attention to the safety around Lonely Mountain! After all, Thorin took most of the elite troops with him..." Dain said somewhat awkwardly.

"..." Roland grinned. Was that the majority? No, it was the entire army! An army of 3000 might not be much to humans, but to the dwarves, it was practically an invasion of the entire nation!
“Of course I will. I promised Thorin that Lagrange will not betray the alliance!” Roland nodded to Dain.

"Thank you so much! I need to hurry and catch up with them with these 1200 soldiers. Thank you so much, King Roland!" Dain said with a beaming smile.

"..." Roland fell silent. So you're all here to risk your lives, huh? You're abandoning your homeland? Gambling with your lives? How did the tiny Iron Hills Kingdom manage to muster 1200 soldiers? Even during the Battle of Lonely Mountain, Dain only brought 1000 men.

(End of this chapter)