"Come on! We're already halfway over! We'll be on the other side of the Misty Mountains in a little while!" Balin cheered and encouraged the sweaty soldiers.

The evening breeze in early summer was very cool. In the evening, the life-loving dwarves had already set up their camp, built numerous bonfires, and started a joyful dinner. At this moment, the Raglan army was still hard at work driving stakes into the ground to build a breastwork.

"King Roland, would you like some?" Balin smiled at Roland, holding the wine jug in his hand.

"No, we can't drink while marching and fighting. I need to set an example!" Roland shook his head.

"That's such a pity, you won't have the pleasure..." Balin shook his head regretfully.

"I hope tonight is peaceful. I don't want to play whack-a-mole with those damn goblins!" Roland gritted his teeth. He had to admit, the goblins, a specialty of the Misty Mountains, were truly formidable! No matter how hard he tried, they wouldn't completely vanquish him. He'd been harassed by these damn goblins quite a few nights these past few days. Their attacks were far inferior to those of the trolls, and honestly, ignoring them was all the rage against these heavily armored warriors. But they were damn noisy! The chattering, the shrill screams of each one, their hoarse voices emitting terrifying shrieks in the darkness, had Roland under his eyes for the past few days.

"Goblin?" Balin's face turned strange. He remembered Roland's "friendly side" towards the goblins! Cutting people into pieces, having immortals caress their heads, and dismembering them with swords were all trivial matters. What impressed Balin the most was that King Roland, with a kind smile on his face, stabbed a goblin who disturbed his sleep with a dagger hundreds of times in the firelight, avoiding the vital parts with every blow. The guy howled all night before dying of excessive blood loss. From then on, everyone knew that Roland had a very bad temper when he woke up, so bad that he would kill people in his dreams.

"I hope no blind fellows will come to disturb your sleep at night!" Balin said decisively. Don't come again. The dwarves could have fallen asleep thanks to their strong nerves, but under the wailing of the goblins tortured by Roland, everyone could only listen to the unlucky guy "singing" with red eyes in the middle of the night.

"Your Highness, roasted hare!" Caslo came over and handed Roland a large, plump roasted hare. The fat dripped down its limbs onto the ground, and the rich aroma of spices made Bahrain salivate.

"How can we eat rabbits when they are so cute?" Roland looked at the roasted rabbit in his hand in great surprise, thinking that it must have been a cute little guy when it was alive.

"Hmm! It smells so good! Here, add some more chili, the taste is a bit bland!" Roland finally couldn't escape the law of true fragrance. It has to be said that this rabbit is even more adorable after death, and it warms the heart and stomach!

Looking at the hypocritical yet righteous King Roland, Balin couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. What had caused the once kindhearted King Roland to become like this? Was it the distortion of human nature, the decline of morality, or perhaps the trauma of war?

"Awoo~" Suddenly a long wolf howl was heard faintly from a distance, which made the faces of several leaders who were still chatting suddenly change.

"Ballin! Did you hear that?" Roland asked nervously.

"By Turin, I will remember their voices even when I die!" Balin said, gritting his teeth.

"Dragon God! Is that the war howl of the Gambada wolf?" Kaslo's heart tightened.

"Wolf Riders are the vanguard of the Orcs. Could it be that an Orc army has come out of the Gunbaddar Fortress? Why did they come to the Misty Mountains? To attack Rivendell?" Omsk asked puzzledly.

"Map!" Roland ordered hurriedly.

Roland's face changed as he unfolded the map. There wasn't a single area in the Misty Mountains worthy of an Orc attack, save for Rivendell! However, whether Sauron could personally destroy that was still unclear. Since they weren't coming for Rivendell, then... they must be coming for them?

"Oh my god, have we been exposed? Have the orcs already known about our plan to attack Moria?" Roland exclaimed. He had relied on his superior numbers and hadn't bothered to hide his whereabouts. He subconsciously believed that the orcs, with their heavy casualties, were powerless to stop them. After all, in the original novel, no one intercepted Balin's expeditionary force. But the butterfly effect must have occurred. The orcs were determined to tear them apart, even if they were still wounded!

"It's bad! The dragon flag!" Caslo seemed to remember something and looked up. Sure enough, the Lagrande dragon flag with golden tassels and exquisite patterns was fluttering in the wind.

"Damn it! We forgot to change the flag!" Omsk hit his head in frustration.

"What happened?" Roland had a bad feeling.

"Your Highness, please forgive me... We forgot to replace your royal flag. They must have been able to identify the royal flag and come here!" Omsk said in pain, closing his eyes.

"Puff!" Roland nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. How extraordinary was this? Had the people of Middle-earth never learned the Art of War? Had they never read the Thirty-Six Stratagems? Could they really send troops out just based on a flag? Instantly, Roland's mind raced through numerous instances of sting operations and the purpose of his own flag.

"My Lord! You are actually traveling all the way with the royal flag?" Balin was suddenly furious. He thought there was something wrong with him, but he didn't expect the problem was with his ally!

"It should be the survivors of the Battle of Lonely Mountain who passed the news back. After all, they have their own civilization, so it's not surprising that they would spy on intelligence!" Roland shook his head and sighed. Now that things have come to this, he can only face it.

"It seems we were targeted the moment we set out!" Roland chuckled self-deprecatingly. The orcs had perfect timing! If they had arrived too late, they could have simply sought help from Rivendell or charged in headfirst. If they had arrived earlier, they could have crossed the Anduin River upstream and escaped. But now, stuck in the middle of nowhere, they were forced to fight.

"Orcs are not scary! We have killed so many! Let's kill another wave of them tonight!" Roland said with murderous intent in his eyes.

"No, no, no, I'm more afraid of the Ringwraiths than the orcs..." Omsk expressed his concerns.

“…” Roland.

"We are in trouble... Your Highness, look, the moon is setting!" Caslo pointed to the sky. The bright moon was gradually disappearing into the clouds, and the bright moonlight was becoming dimmer.

"The moon is setting!" Roland frowned.

"Bahrain! Tell your people to merge their camps with mine! Strengthen patrols! Wear armor when resting! Also! Light a bonfire every hundred meters, a hundred steps away from the camp!" Roland said.

"I'll follow your instructions!" Balin said decisively.

"Hurry up, boys! Tonight's going to be a blast! We might have to fight orcs!" Roland roared, cursing his bad luck. How many nights have we missed out on a good night's rest? It's either trolls or goblins! Now even orcs are joining in the fun? Even clay figures have their own temperament! Roland, his eyelids twitching, now wanted nothing more than to kill to vent his anger.

"Let me see if you can still remember the army that bravely forged ahead against the current at the foot of Lonely Mountain!" Roland gritted his teeth. When he looked up again, tears streamed down his cheeks. He once again recalled the figures of those brave warriors, and that cyan torrent...

The torrent... never stops!