Middle Earth Gamer

The Gathering Storm

Following Bolg through the treacherous mountain paths, Legolas and Tauriel arrive at the ominous fortress of Gundabad. The stronghold looms ahead, filled with war-bred Orcs and a sky darkened by bats.

Tauriel: (whispering) "Gundabad... this place is ancient, a stronghold of the enemy. Bolg is gathering an army."

Legolas watches grimly as Orcs march in endless rows, joined by massive war-bred bats that shriek and fill the air.

Legolas: "We must warn our people. If these armies march upon Erebor, they will destroy anyone in their path."

They exchange a solemn look before retreating, bound for Lake-town.

Thranduil's elegant but imposing elven army marches into Dale, their banners high. The refugees watch in awe as the Elvenking approaches Bard, his eyes set on the Lonely Mountain.

Thranduil: "The people of Lake-town have suffered. I offer them my protection... and in return, I will claim what is mine from the mountain. A necklace of white gems that was promised to me."

Bard frowns, wary but understanding the need for an alliance.

Bard: "If we must face Thorin and his dwarves, we cannot do it alone. The people need shelter, and I need soldiers."

Thranduil: (nodding) "Then our allegiance is forged."

Within Erebor, Thorin gazes at his treasure, his eyes glittering with a strange madness. He's dressed in fine armor, his every movement reflecting his obsession with the hoard.

Bilbo approaches Thorin nervously, noting the unnatural gleam in his leader's eyes.

Thorin: "This treasure belongs to the dwarves... all of it. I will not share it with those who seek to rob us."

Bilbo: "But they only want what they were promised, Thorin. If we just—"

Thorin: (interrupting, in a voice echoing Smaug's tone) "You think I should hand over our gold to Bard and Thranduil? They are thieves! I will not part with a single coin."

Taranis watches, a worried expression on his face. He can see the madness gripping Thorin.

Taranis: "Thorin, remember why we came here. This treasure was meant to restore your people, not destroy them. The gold... it's clouding your mind."

Thorin turns, his expression hard, but after a pause, his face softens. He strides over to a chest and retrieves a fine mithril chainmail and set of armor crafted by Erebor's master blacksmiths.

Thorin: (handing the mithril chainmail and armor to Taranis) "You have fought loyally by my side. Wear these – crafted from the best mithril in Erebor. But heed this, Taranis... do not betray me, as others have."

Taranis's eyes widen in surprise. He looks down at the shimmering mithril armor and shield, unsure of what to say.

Taranis: (astonished) "Thorin... this is... too much. Mithril chainmail? And the shield, too?"

Thorin looks at him, his expression grave but resolute.

Thorin: "You have earned it. The best of Erebor, forged for those who stand by me. Take it, and wear it with pride."

Taranis is speechless for a moment, his hands shaking as he takes the chainmail, the heavy weight of the shield surprising him. The armor is dazzling, and he feels a surge of gratitude and awe. He looks at Thorin, who has already turned back to his treasure.