Thorin the Dwarf was at work in his smithy at Khazad Dum. His work was disturbed when a dwarf entered bearing a message from his lord summoning him to the chamber of Mazarbul. Cleaning himself he set out with the messenger.

On reaching the Chamber he saw his Lord, Durin VII, was waiting for him. Giving leave to the messenger, his lord now addressed him:

"I have a received a plea for help from the Dunedain of Arnor. It seems that they have met an army of Orcs and need reinforcement if the North is not to be overrun. I would that you lead a company of our warriors to help them."

"Unfortunately, that company will only consist of 200 war hardened dwarves. I would have sent more but haste is needed and to assemble a larger company would take time that we do not have."

"The dwarves who will accompany you will be assembled in the first hall by nightfall. You will have more than enough supplies to last the journey to the North. Now go and get yourself ready and may Mahal help you. Farewell."

Thus it was that the Dwarf host was now pressing North will all possible speed. They were now a day march from Bree. Floi, a captain and friend of Thorin, fell back to where Thorin was and spoke:

"Do you know where we are supposed to meet the Northern Army Thorin?"

"No I do not Know. The summons weren't clear enough. We'll make for Bree and gather what news we can. Though I'm hoping the Rangers have left someone to guide possible reinforcement to the meeting place in the North.

The dwarves reached the outskirts of Bree two hours after midday.

"Halt!," Thorin shouted as the village of Bree came in sight. "Floi, take two others with you and go to the Bree to get what info you may. Put some cloaks on your armor and do not let anyone know of the presence of the host here."

"At once, Lord," Floi replied. Picking two dwarves in the host he departed.

Turning to Bain, his second captain he spoke:
"Get the soldiers to set our camp in those deep thickets there,south of the Greenway. Let the host be as silent as possible and no fires are to be lit. We do not know who the enemy is and we do not want to be discovered."

"Once the camp is set have a ring of scouts around the camp and warn me of any that approaches hither. Particularly make sure none of the locals see us. You know how they like to let their tongues run."

With that the dwarves began to set up their camp, cunningly hidden among the thickets. Once the camp was set those dwarves who had their first lookout duty went to their posts while the other dwarves went to rest. They knew that they should rest whenever possible because you never know what tomorrow would bring. Once things had settled down he called Bain to him.

"I was pondering over this message Bain," Thorin said. "We do not know where we have to meet the Northern Army. We'll stay here till sunset. If we do not get any news by then we will set out to Dead Man's dike or Fornost as it is now called. What do you think?"

Before Bain could say anything, Floi entered the tent and bowing to his Lord he spoke:
"Thorin, we have done a quick investigation of Bree but found no rangers there. It is as I thought. They must all have gone to the battle."

Thorin stood quiet and pondered the tidings.

"Well, if we receive no news by dawn we're moving to the North in search of the host ourselves."

Harnol rode swiftly through the long grass in the valleys of the North Downs, lying low in the saddle to protect himself from the bitter wind. He had said goodbye to his captain only a few hours ago, yet it felt like a few days from the rough conditions. His chestnut-coloured horse, Fastred, relished these long gallops so Harnol expected to be out of the Downs by sunset. After a few hours, Fastred had slowed to a trot and was breathing heavily.
"Come on, Fastred," he whispered in his horse's ear. "Only a few more miles."
The horse could not of course understand, but perhaps it was some elvish charm, echoing out of the long years before any evil had befallen the world, that made Fastred's head stand a little higher and his pace a little faster.
They did indeed reach Fornost before sundown, and Harnol slid gratefully out of the saddle, his thighs aching. He had hardly taken the saddle and packs off his horses’ back before Fastred slid down onto the wet grass and rolled around on his back, making those little neighing noises that horses do when they're content.
Harnol smiled and then took a small axe out of his pack. He then walked into a small wood that they had stopped by for the night. He found several sticks and two dry logs and took them back to his shelter, arranging them and putting a spark to them. His fire was soon burning merrily and he took Fastred to a tree to tie him for the night. After spending an hour or so in front of the fire eating some of the rations he had taken with him, he stamped out the flames and crawled inside the shelter for the night.

He woke early the next morning, breaking his fast with a few pieces of bread and an apple and then saddling Fastred. They rode light and swift for the entire day, riding down the Greenway, and soon Harnol had reached Bree. The north gate of Bree was shut day and night, owing to the belief that dark spirits came out of the North. The guard at the gate knew better than to argue with a Ranger, though, so the gates swung open almost immediately at his coming. Harnol rode slowly through the streets of Bree, ignoring the stares some of the local people gave him. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Tying Fastred up outside the Prancing Pony, Harnol walked in and asked for Barliman at the bar.
"'Aven't seen 'im for ages, 'ave we?" said the barman. "Buggered off somewhere, 'asn't he?"
"Barliman? Leave Bree? That dosen't sound like him," said Harnol suspiciously.
"'E's got friends in 'igher places now," said the barman. "'Elped those 'obbits when they passed through 'ere, all those years ago. Now 'e's in the Shire, from what I 'eard tell."
Harnol nodded. He had heard of Butterbur's involvement in the War of the Ring.
"Well, what I really wanted to ask was about the dwarf army, the one from Moria."
"Dwarf army? Moria?" The barman seemed genuinely confused. I 'aven't seen a dwarf in years, leave alone a dwarf army."
"Thank you for the information," said Harnol, tipping him a coin and leaving the inn.
"For what I gave," he heard the man say before the door swung shut.
Harnol walked over to the stables and began to untie Fastred.
"Looks like we have a little more way to go yet," he said. Fastred neighed.
Harnol climbed on and tapped Fastred on his sides.
"Let's go!" he said.
They raced through Bree, avoiding carts and hay bales that were scattered across the road and going through spaces where some very startled people had been a few seconds before. In no time they had reached the south gate of Bree, and had rushed through it out onto the road beyond.
"Where to now?" Harnol wondered aloud.
He knew that the elusive army was somewhere near Bree, since the message they had sent to tell of their coming had been a few days ago and they would have reached Bree by now.
Harnol set Fastred to a trot along the southern road, looking to the left and right for any sign of a camp, hidden as it may have been. Suddenly, his quick eyes spotted something, off the road to the right. A footprint. Small, but with an indentation at the front that spoke of metal, and more distantly a soldier on guard duty. Harnol jumped down from his horse and walked over to it, the grass dewed under his leather boots. As he knelt down, he recognized it unmistakably to be the print of a dwarf. He looked up. A small forest lay ahead of him, thickets crowding around it. He smiled slightly. A perfect place for an army that did not wish to be seen.
He stood up, checked that Fastred was still, and then walked at an easy pace through the long grass, towards the forest. As he grew closer, his ears caught the tiniest of sounds. Someone shuffling, perhaps? They had seen him, that much was sure.
Then suddenly, a harsh voice cried out in a guttural tongue that Harnol recognised a moment later to be Dwarvish. He cried out in relief to them, speaking in the common tongue.
“I am Harnol, one of the Dunedain! I serve King Elessar! I have come to bring you to Fornad and to join our force!”
A few seconds later, dwarves, armed with axes and wearing heavy armour and face masks, began to edge cautiously out of the thickets. One walked more confidently ahead of the rest and beckoned for Harnol to come over.
Harnol stepped over a small bog and quickly made his way over to the dwarf. The dwarf lifted up his iron face-mask and regarded the Ranger, his face looking distrustful.
“I know that you are led by a great captain by the name of Thorin Oakenshield,” said Harnol. “I would speak to him and lead you dwarves to Fornad, my captain.”
“My... my master wait for you,” replied the dwarf, the words unsteady. Harnol judged that he was not used to speaking in Westron. “Come now.”
Harnol gratefully followed the dwarf over the grass towards the thickets, the guards’ kin tightening their holds on their axes when they saw the longbow tied to Harnol’s back. He ducked under a low-hanging branch, even though the dwarf had no need to do so, and suddenly he emerged into a small clearing where the thickets had been hacked away. Small tents were arranged in orderly rows along the raw ground, some having even been erected in the forest beyond.
‘There,’ pointed the dwarf with one stubby finger.
At the head of the line of tents stood one large pavilion, woven of red cloth and with strange, geometric designs woven along the edges. Harnol walked through the camp, ignoring the slightly hostile stares the dwarves around the tents gave him, until he ducked under the flap at the front of the pavilion and walked in.
The air was hot and stuffy inside. Hangings were draped on the walls, depicting scenes of dwarves hacking at goblins with axes in dark caves, smithing at hot anvils, and feasting at long oak tables. A noble and tough-looking suit of armour stood to the left, thick veins of gold twisting over its surface and with an ornate mask under a helm. At a table stood two dwarves, both studying a complex map. One turned round to Harnol. It was Thorin.

I will go through the whole thread again and post once I'm done as I have forgotten the story a bit and the characters I created

'My lord, I am Harnol,' said the Ranger nodding respectfully and walking over to the map, surveying it. 'Time is short, and I cannot drink and be merry whilst my captain is in danger.'
The map showed Arnor and Eriador, as well as the Misty Mountains and in the very southeast, Moria. It was, however, around Bree and the North Downs where markers had been placed. One southwest of Bree, representing the Dwarves. One vaguely placed in the North Downs, for Harnol's kin. Finally, there was a large black marker, west of the Ettenmoors. Harnol shuddered. He knew what that meant.
'Our force is camped here, Lord Thorin,' said Harnol, stretching out a hand and shifting the North Downs marker slightly. 'Sir, perhaps it is not my place to judge in this situation, but might it not be wise to somehow reach King Elessar? If anyone can stop this force, it is he and the armies of Gondor.'

"Alas I have none of my dwarves to spare for the long journey to the South. Our only hope is that the Eye of the White Tower will turn north and see the threat drawing near. But for your comfort I will add this: We are the first company to be dispatched here. Unless I am wrong My Lord will be sending another company of about 500 axes to reinforce us in a week," Thorin said.

"But our main objective for now is to reach your camp unseen. We do not want the enemies to be know that we are gathering an army against them. Further plan I cannot make until I meet your captain."

Thorin stood a moment silent in thought
"Bain," he said turning to his Captain. "Take Harnol with you and give him some food. Also get word that we will set off at midnight. Everything is too be packed and ready in an hour. We will leave Bree under cover of darkness."

Turning to Harnol he added"
"Go with him Harnol you will get some food while we get ready. I will have to arm myself," he said gesturing to his armour in his tent. "You will need all your strength because we will need you to guide us to your camp in all haste."

With that the man and the dwarf departed and orders for the departure were gives.

The dwarves pulled down their tents, doused their campfires and were geared and ready to march in a surprisingly short space of time. Harnol had gone to collect Fastred from the road some time earlier, and now he sat on the horse amongst the grim warriors, feeling almost like a giant. They waited for Thorin's order.
Suddenly the moon slipped behind a black cloud, and they were all plunged into total darkness.
'Move!' he heard Thorin say from the front.
The army slunk through the thickets and out onto the grassy plain between the forest and the road. Harnol kicked Fastred's sides lightly and he moved through the orderly ranks to the front, where Thorin marched proudly with the rest. They reached the road, and turned towards Bree.

Harnol, Thorin and the army marched with haste along the muddy southern road.
'We should get to Bree fairly soon,' said Harnol to the dwarven lord beside him. ‘It lies over this hill, and across a few acres of farmland.'
Thorin nodded without saying anything. Harnol kicked Fastred into a trot, quickly coming to the summit of the knoll. In the faint moonlight, he could just make out the dark shape of the town a few miles away with his sharp eyes. No torches were lit, making it very difficult to see. An old tradition from the days when people knew of the threat from outside.
Harnol blew into his hands and rubbed them together from the cold, then laid them back on the reins and turned Fastred to wait for the army. He had thought the dwarves loud when he had been among them, but now he realised their sound quickly faded in the night air, and he had to strain his ears to hear the clinking of armour and weapons.
Thorin and the front line of the army reached the top. Harnol could see the dwarf struggling to see the town in the darkness.
‘It lies only a few miles away,’ said Harnol. Thorin looked up to him.
‘I think it wise that you go ahead and inform the guards of Bree of our coming,’ he said. ‘Arrows often are let fly without knowing their targets.’
‘Of course, lord,’ said Harnol. There was no need of casualties before any encounters with the enemy. He spurred Fastred into a fast canter down the hill towards Bree.
After a few minutes of riding, Bree’s southern gate formed out of the darkness. As he grew nearer, a torch was struck on the wall, and a voice hailed him.
‘Halt! Who wishes to enter Bree?’
‘A Ranger of the north!’ called back Harnol. ‘Many are behind me, allies from the south. I request that you allow us through the town.’
‘One of the King’s kin I will open to, but not some supposed allies. Who are they?’
Harnol could now see the guard’s helmed head, lit by the flickering light of the torch.
‘Dwarves! Two hundred, fully armed. They come to ward off an enemy from Angmar.’
The guard paused for a moment, seemingly deliberating with himself.
‘If what you say is true, then... I will let you through.’
Harnol sighed in relief. He hadn’t wanted to use force.
Soon enough, the dwarven army arrived, their line stretching back a few hundred metres.
‘They do seem to be dwarves. Beards, and all that,’ said the guard, peering down. ‘Right, then.’
He turned back from the wall, the light of the torch snuffed out, and after a few moments the doors groaned open.
As Harnol rode through, the guard, standing to the side, widened his eyes.
‘You won’t be wanting to stay anywhere, will you?’ he whispered.
‘No,’ said Harnol, smiling briefly. ‘We’ll get out of sight of Bree before we make camp.’
They got through the town without incident, such was the quiet of the dwarves, and after a quick, confused conversation with the guard at the north gate they were through, and out onto the Northern Greenway.
The small forest of Chetwood passed on their left, and soon enough they turned off the road to make camp in the trees, the soldiers lifting heavy packs from their backs and unrolling the tents and equipment. Within the hour, the camp was made. Harnol ate a quick supper of stew and thick bread away from the laughing and drinking dwarves, then climbed inside his tent for a quick rest before they set off again.

Harnol and the dwarves rode silently along the darkened road, its condition steadily becoming worse until it was barely distinguishable from the brown, barren terrain around it. A few pine and birch trees grew here and there, some even coming together to form small copses and woods, but mostly the landscape waited for the green of spring.
After many hours of riding, Harnol looked down for a moment, and his heart stopped.
An Uruk footprint, barely two hours old. Many more went off towards the north.
He spurred Fastred round and came back to the dwarves.
'My Lord Thorin!' he exclaimed. 'I have discovered footprints of orcs, on the path ahead.'
Thorin nodded grimly and quickly ran to where Harnol had pointed. The Ranger came after him.
'Fresh,' commented the dwarf, kneeling down to have a closer look. 'These are not normal orcs.'
'I agree, sir,' said Harnol. 'Uruk-hai. I had thought that this foul breed had all been killed in the War, but evidently they cling on with tenacity.'
'They make for the North Downs,' said Thorin, looking up. He then stood, and seemed to think for a while. He then turned to Harnol. 'Do you know if your steed could reach Fornad before the Uruks?'
'If I stay on the road for as long as possible, then turn northeast and continue up the east bank of the Downs, then I might just make it,' said Harnol. 'It will be close.'
'Alert your captain of our coming,' said Thorin. 'My dwarves will not be far behind.'
Harnol nodded, turned Fastred north and kicked him into a fast canter, keeping the horse's stamina up for the journey into the hills.

Fornad walked through the Ranger's camp, nodding to the occasional man on guard duty. Most were out hunting or keeping an lookout for the army on other hills. He sighed, and walked up the side of the hill to the blackened, ruined castle. Harnol was taking too long. The scout should have returned by now, but there had been no report or sight of him. If he had been captured... or killed, there would be no hope of getting the dwarves here on time.
He sat down heavily on a boulder, and looked to the southern horizon. What had he been thinking? Fornad had seen it in his men's eyes, that knowledge of certain doom. Three hundred men and dwarves could not possibly take on ten thousand orcs and expect anything but slaughter. The only possible help lay in Rohan or Gondor, places which he had sent messengers to weeks ago, and had no reply.
He cursed. The War of the Ring was finished! But now...
His thread of thought was cut short when suddenly the sighting horn was blown from the camp below him. He got up and jumped onto the boulder, looking into the valley. There! A solitary rider, going quickly.
‘Harnol…?’ he said to himself. He leaped down from the boulder and ran lithely down the hill, dodging round the tents in the camp and coming to the edge of a short cliff, from which he could see the rider better. The man was wearing a green cloak, at least…
The rider galloped up the hill with seeming great urgency, suddenly entering the trees and disappearing. Some more of his men were coming up beside him now, and he quickly gave the order for them to string their bows and be ready to shoot.
Suddenly, the rider came out from between the trees, and Fornad relaxed. It was Harnol. Without order, the men around him put their arrows back and unstrung their bows. Fornad ran round to the side of the rocky precipice and came over to Harnol, who dismounted and began to stroke his horse’s head, breathing words of calming into its ear.
Fornad almost jolted in surprise. Fastred’s mouth was foaming with dried saliva, and the horse was quivering. The captain ran over.
‘Harnol! What happened? Where are the dwarves? What was the hurry to get here?’ A thousand more questions were bursting to come forth.
Harnol turned, noticing his captain. He quickly saluted.
‘Sir, the dwarves are coming. They know where we are.’
Fornad nodded.
‘But why did you not stay with them?’
‘I bring grave news,’ Harnol said. ‘A party of Uruk-hai, more than a hundred, come close to our postion. When I began my journey, they were still more than two hours ahead of me, owing to my great hurry.’
Fornad reacted with the speed of a great captain. He turend and shouted to his men.
‘Baruín! Sound the gathering horn! Torblas! Take Harnol’s horse to feed and water!’ He made his way back up the hill, men scattering at his commands. ‘Comned! Organise the men for battle!’
Fornad made his way through the camp as a great, ear-shattering blast came from the top of the hill. The gathering horn. Now, Fornad knew that his men would be turning back to the hill and making their way there as fast as possible through the forests.
Harnol came up to him.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘there is yet more news.’
‘Go on,’ replied Fornad.
‘Six hundred more dwarves come from Moria, my lord,’ he said. ‘They should be here in about three days.’
Fornad smiled briefly. ‘More fighters are always welcome. But nine hundred is nowhere near enough to counter ten thousand. I fear that we will have to retreat until further, far greater help can come from the south.’
Harnol nodded. His captain was right.
Within half an hour, all his men were gathered in camp, bows strung, arrows feathered and sheathed swords freshly sharpened.
Fornad stood above them on a boulder.
‘Battle has come quicker than expected,’ he said, looking at each of them in turn. ‘These creatures that you will fight are not normal orcs. They are Uruk-hai, of the traitor Saruman’s breed. They wear armour, and carry shields, crude swords, and crossbows. Make no mistake. They are as strong as you. We will kill them with arrows, but if you have to fight them in melee, be wary, and go for the neck.’ He paused. ‘Get to your positions. We make an ambush!’
The Rangers scattered and filtered into the trees, making as little noise as wolves. Fornad quickly went after them.

The Dunedain waited in the trees as the sun slowly set behind the hills. All had arrows on strings, all waited in complete silence. Fornad stayed behind an oak. He could just see Harnol crouched behind a boulder a few metres away, though it was difficult. In this state, someone could brush past one of the Dunedain and not notice.
Time went by slowly. Harnol had assured him that they were coming, but could he have...
Then the sound of heavy, tramping boots came to his ears, along with raucous shouts and the clanging of metal. They were here. Fornad slowly peered form behind the oak. The brutes marched only a few hundred metres away, and were all well within range of the arrows of his men. But he waited. The Rangers waited for his first shot.
He breathed in quickly, came out from behind a tree and fired, hitting one of the Uruks in the chest. They roared in surprise as their comrade fell over, and then suddenly a deadly rain of arrows fell upon their ranks, Uruks toppling and snarling in pain.

Through the night and dawn the dwarves had advanced rapidly towards Fornost. Four hours after sunrise, they were allowed a brief rest before marching on again. All the time the North Downs where Fornost was, kept crawling nearer and nearer.

Suddenly Thorin who was whispering ahead with Bain heard a cry coming from ahead. He ordered his host to stop and they remained silent listening to any suspicious noise.

"These sound like the harsh cries of orcs he," he breathed to Thorin who nodded back to him. Signaling to two of his dwarves he sent them on a scouting mission.

Meanwhile, he gave sign that the host get themselves ready for battle. Five minutes later the two dwarves crept stealthily to the host and announced that a battle was under way further ahead.

"The air is full of arrows My Lord. Though we have seen the Uruks we did not see who they were fighting against. Their rear is unprotected as they seek their enemies."

"Any enemy or ocrs are likely to be our friends," Thorin said.

"Balin," he called to one of the nearby warriors. "You and 25 warriors will stay here and guard our provisions. You will also look to crush anyone than gets past us or any reinforcement coming.

With that he and the remainder of the host crept forward to the battle. Reaching roughly 20 metres from the battle scene, Thorin peered from behind a tree. He saw a huge orc with an ax moving amongst dead bodies of men and orcs advancing towards the trees. Behind him his orcs were hewing at trees and shooting unseen foes with cross-bows. They had no heed for their reer.

"BARUK-KHAZAD! kHAZAD AI MENU!" Thorin roared in a loud voices and charged his foes. Seeing their chief charge, the other dwarf warriors followed with loud shouts of "Moria." The orcs were taken at unawares and the crossbow wielders were the first to feel the fury of dwarven axes having no time to sweep out their swords.

Th Orcs were utterly confused, being shot at from the front and hewed into by dwarves at the rear. They turned from death to death and all those who were found were mercilessly slaughtered.

Soon there were no orcs left alive visible to the dwarves. The surprise element had led to no deaths but a few minor wounds to a few dwarves.

Wazt slowly began to revive, and looked up. Thorin and Fornad turned around, hearing his heavy breathing.
"You stinky Man! You made things go black!" Wazt shouted, "No stinky Ranger make boss Uruk go black!" Wazt continued. Fornad pulled out his sword and swiftly swiped at Wazt, knocking his scabbard to the ground, and picked up Wazt's sword.
"You wouldn't try that again, 'boss Uruk'. I am Fornad, I am not just a stinky Ranger, I am a strong one." Fornad muttered, and held up his sword.
"Uruk, if you don't want us to kill you like the scum you are, I ask something of you. Go north and join the army, and when you reach it, send us secret messages of its location and number of soldiers. Then you will kill orc captains in the final battle.'
'Wazt won't help stupid Ranger!' the Uruk growled. 'Wazt kill Ranger!'
Wazt began to get up, then felt a cold sharpness at his neck. The Ranger's sword.
'Then you die,' the man said coolly. 'But you can help us and live. If you do what I ask of you, then when you return to us we will brand you with the Tree of Elendil, and set you free. But if you do not, I swear to all the Valar that I will find you and make you suffer until you wish you'd never come out of your birth-pit. Do I make myself clear?" Fornad threatened,
"Yes, stinky..." Wazt began, before Fornad punched him.
"You will do as I say!" Fornad shouted,
"Yes, Master Ranger. Wazt will help people now," Wazt agreed, before Fornad swung another punch, knocking Wazt unconscious.

Wazt woke up slouched over his horse's saddle. He pushed himself up with his arms, and saw Fornad standing beside him, sword ready.
'You will do one final thing for me to prove your loyalty,' said Fornad. He ordered two men to come forward with Azhug. 'Kill your comrade.'
Wazt thought for a moment, then shrugged, pulled out his sword and lopped Azhug's head off.
The Ranger looked faintly surprised.
'Very well,' he said. 'Ride north, and send messages with this pidgeon.'
He handed Wazt a grey, speckled pigeon, which Wazt looked at, confused.
'Wazt no eat?' he said, showing Fornad the pigeon.
'No,' said the Ranger. 'You write messages and tie them to it's leg. Can you write?'
'Wazt writes,' said the Uruk proudly. 'Wazt one of old white Wizard's favourite Uruks.'
'Good,' said the Ranger. 'Ride north, and join the army.'
The Uruk kicked his horse's sides and rode away, amazed that he wasn't dead.

4 Weeks and 1 Day after the Messenger Reached King Elessar, Around 10 AM

Wazt and his horse skidded to a halt, he was North-East of the North-Downs, and on a small hill, dead trees and boulders everywhere. He quickly pulled out his crossbow, and fired 4 shots into a small bush. A dead rabbit rolled out.
"Lunch." Wazt announced, grinning. He leapt off and picked up the rabbit. He had had no food for the last 2 days of his journey and ripped the arrows out and ripped the skin off, then eat it raw. Half an Hour later he climbed back on his horse and continued up the hill.

1 Hour Later

Wazt reached the peak of the hill, and scanned the area around them. He saw smoke on the Horizon, and a large fenced camp-site.
"People!" Wazt muttered, kicking his Horse (AKA Uruk-Horsey, as named by Fornad.) and they sped down the hill.

5 Hours Later - 4:30 PM

Uruk-Horsey reached the wooden fence, and quickly headed for the entrance. 2 Orcs were stood by the gate, and stopped him.
"State Your Name and Rank." The Biggest Orc ordered.
"Big Bad Captain Wazt from Uruk Army in Misty Mountains."
"Sligo, Check the List."
"Captain Wazt is on the list."
"Sligo, Alert Boss, Show the Captain his tent."
"Not Just Uruk Captain! Big Boss One! One of Master Saruman's Best!"
"Shut Up and Come in!"
"Sorry Guard Orc People."
The Smaller Orc and Wazt walked in, The Orc walked to one of the slightly larger tents which circled a bigger one in the middle. (With Small Tents around the Sides of them).
"You get Uruk Captain Tent for being one of the 75 Major Uruk Captains out of the 575 Captains." Sligo explained, walking off. Wazt leapt off Uruk-Horsey, and tied him to a pole to the side of his fence. He decided to look around. He walked to the middle of the Camp, a small clearing with the Commanders Tent at the back of it with a camp fire in the middle, and saw a couple of Orcs roasting a Un-Identifiable creature over the camp fire.

He then walked towards another clearing, and saw a few Dozen Trolls, tied to tree stumps. As he headed back to his tent, he noticed another small clearing, with Orcs, Uruks and Goblins training. He arrived at his tent and pulled the flag of his army out of a bag tied to Uruk-Horsey, and tied it In-between his Tent and the pole which his horse was tied to.

More Orcs, Goblins and Uruks headed to the main clearing, the animal had probably been cooked. He left his tent and realised there were thousands of them, preparing for war. He hoped the message had reached King Elessar, then decided to head for dinner.

Fornad nodded.
'I agree,' he said, turning to look at the pale sun rising behind dismal cloud. 'The deeper hills and forests within will provide greater cover. We must plan what to do.'
He cast a final glance at the dwindling dot, then went back to his men. Spotting Harnol tending a gash on a man's arm with a poultice, he walked over.
'How many dead?' he asked, swallowing a feeling of dreadful remorse.
Harnol looked up for a moment.
'Eight, my lord,' he said, wrapping a clean bandage over the man's arm and poultice. 'Better than I had feared. We fought well.'
Fornad gripped his hand tightly to his hilt.
'Their funerals will be tonight?'
'Yes, lord. With the proper rites and herbs.'
Fornad nodded again, not trusting himself to say any more, then after a few moments clapped Harnol on the back and walked away.
Eight. Eight souls. Eight families who had to be told, leaving them to their grief. This was the harsh reality of war, Fornad realised, as he looked down at the men and dwarves taking down the tents, stamping out the fires, packing away in silence. He noticed that the dwarves all wore rags of black cloth tied to their right arms, a sign of mourning. He understood that. It was a way of tribute, respect, a gesture to their fallen kin... there would be much more of it in the future.
He inhaled slowly, then shouted to his men.
'We must be out of here in a half-hour!' he ordered. 'Take your weapons, most essential equipment, and food! Take the dead and the injured that cannot walk on stretchers.'
Seeing his orders being followed, the Ranger went to his tent to pack his own belongings.

'I thank you, Thorin,' said Fornad, giving a brief nod to the dwarf. 'Your soldiers' help is appreciated.'
He moved to where his men were assembling, their packs slung on to their weary backs. The armoured dwarves were also forming ranks, behind the Rangers. Harnol and two of his other lieutenants sat on horses at the front. A few of the injured lay on stretchers.
Then, in silence, a column of men and dwarves, each four carrying a black-shrouded stretcher, moved slowly to the front.
'Move out!' Fornad ordered, and the two armies moved forward, the cacophony of boots and hooves soon settling into a steady march as they turned towards the taller hills and forests of the North Downs. Fornad walked to his horse, and after making sure that his packs were secure at its sides he pulled himself up on onto the saddle.
Looking to the dwarves, Fornad could see that Thorin marched at the front of them. He spurred his horse down the slope to the rough track on which the armies marched. He came to the dwarven lord's side.
'Where have you ordered the six hundred reinforcements to meet us?' he asked. 'We will be difficult to find once we get into the deeper forests.'

"I am troubled by the same thing my Lord. For we have been delayed by that battle and I am now unsure how far away the host are from us. Yet we have seen that it is of no use and quite dangerous for all of us to stay here waiting for them."

"My advice is to establish a camp and then send scouts in search of them," Thorin ended.

An Hour Later
The host was moving slowly towards the hill. Fornac was still at the front but Thorin had dropped a few paces back and was talking with one of the rangers. All of a sudden war cries were heard all around. The host had fallen in an ambush!

A great voice went up in a war cry and from the thickets and trees issued dwarvish soldiers. But first and foremost came a dwarf bearing a black helm. He charged straight for the van guard of the host.

Thorin strode in front of him and shouted: "Halt!" in a great voice. The dwarf stopped and his eyes showed great surprise.

"What is the meaning off all this?" Thorin asked in a menacing tone, looking darkly at the dwarf. He needed not the black helm to know who was leading the reinforcement. Barhun was one of the captains of Moria but he was not approved by Thorin who disliked his quick temper and recklessness.

"We though it was the enemy," Barhun replied sullenly. He made no attempt to show any respect to his Lord. "And it is likely that they are so! Never trust a man he said looking darkly at the rangers."

"You thought they were the enemy?" Thorin thundered. "Didn't you listen to the orders from Moria? We are to fight along side men, not against them!"

"And do I need to remind you who leads this army," he shouted so that all the dwarves could hear him.

"I will not take any subordination from yourself! This is no orc raid that we are after. You better watch your tone and action or something bad will happen to you," Thorin ended in a menacing tone. Barhun looked frightened by this outburst, which was unlooked for by him. But he knew better than to disobey Thorin. Yet his hatred for the dwarf lord and the men where still unabated.

"Fall in the ranks Company," Thorin shouted to the rest of the dwarves. "We will resume the march." Watching his reinforcement join the host Thorin noticed Floi, another of his Captain. Signaling to him, both of them fell at the rear of the host and talked in a low voice.

"Why has Barhun been sent on this quest?" Thorin asked

"I do not rightly know my Lord, but it seem that he was able to have several of the old dwarf load to entreat in his favour. It is a pity that the other Lords and Captains were not present. He wouldn't have been chosen if they were there. But we needed all speed possible so he was put in command until we would meet with you," Floi ended.

Thorin nodded to him and made his way next to Fornad.
"I apologise for the action of my Captain. He is a valiant fighter but hot headed. I hope that you can forgive his indiscretion"

"Greetings to you too, Fornad," Thorin replied. "I gave the same orders but on advice from some of the engineers in my host we will improve the fortifications considering that we might be here for some time."

"I have sent a part of my folk into the forest for wood. We will build a 6 feet tall palisade behind the dikes with slits for your archers to shoot for if the need arises."

"However considering the natural defensive position offered by the hill, we will not need the fortification everywhere. I believe that it might take at least a week for the camp and its fortifications to be full wrought. We should make this place our main outpost."

"Oh! And the tents for the host have already been pulled up. Ours are in the middle of the Camp. The only detail I have so far not attended too is the watchmen and tour of guard. I believe you will be better suited for this job that my dwarves are because of your knowledge of the surrounding lands. My soldiers will man the walls and defend the camp until we get to know the land better."

Thorin stepped forward and looked at the dead men. He was sad yet he always found it hard to say a lot on these occasions. After a few minutes of silence he spoke:

"It is a grief that men who still had so much to live for should pass away so soon. But mourn not much, for they have passed away peacefully and may now sit proudly amongst their father in the halls of awaiting."

"It is likely that we may yet suffer the same fate but it is better to go away with honour than to live as thralls and slaves for a lifetime. May they find peace on the other side."

Bowing in a final farewell to the men he stepped back in the ranks of men and dwarves.

The horn for lunch sounded. Wazt grunted, and barged out of his tent, running towards the large blob of meat with his stolen knife, but 2 Large Goblins grabbed him as he left his tent.
"Double Agent!" The Goblin shouted,
"We saw you release a Pigeon!" The other Goblin muttered, punching Wazt.
"Why would I?!" Wazt grunted, climbing up.
"We will tell boss!" The first goblin grunted, heading to leave. Wazt whipped out his sword, and in one stroke severed the 2 Goblins heads.

OOC: This Thread was dying so I brought it back

Fornad nodded as Thorin spoke, but at the last shook his head.
'I feel that here remains the best place,' he said. 'It seems unlikely to me that the dragon would risk its life so early on for so little gain. We are still well sheltered and defended here, and it seems the real threat are these orcs-' he pointed to the part about scouts in the letter '-whose numbers might overwhelm us if we do not have a strategy and a main outpost.'
An irresistible smell of meaty stew had reached Fornad from outside, and he shook himself to get rid of the temptation to run out and get some. Supper could wait.
'What do you say, lord?' he asked.

Fornad watched Thorin go, then waited for a while, looking around the dimly lit interior of the dwarven tent. A brooding presence seemed to filter into him as he looked at the dark tapestries, but with a snort he shook himself and went out into the far cooler night air.
The looming, thin silhouettes of the pines stretched out across the camp, the moonlight illuminating tents and shying away from the bright, crackling fires that burned here and there. Men and dwarves sat around them, talking amiably and eating with one other.
At least they're getting along, Fornad thought to himself. That Barhun doesn't seem to have dimmed their spirits.
But the captain felt in no mood to eat. The news of the dragon had shaken him, thrown him even further into the abyss of hopelessness that he now found himself in. Nine hundred. That was all he had against ten thousand.
If only Gondor could come...
It was too late now. Fornad bowed his head, darkness covering his face, and went to his tent.

Done.

Thorin looked up gravely to Fornac.

"Greeting Lord. I am as well as I can be in the present situation. Before you arrived my generals and myself were discussing several ideas. We have been able to agree on several major point, as now we will lay them before you and your Captain."

"Oh! And before we start, have you seen Barhum? He is the dwarf with whom, shall we say, you had a rather unfortunate incident. I haven't seen him for a while! In any case he was warned that we would be carrying out this meeting and if he is not present, then that's too bad for him," Thorin continued in his grave voice though his face betrayed his anger towards his subordinate.

One of the dwarves stood up and brought a large map of the northen regions. (PS: You will need a real map to follow the coming speech)

"We are here," Thorin pointed to the hills beyond Fornost. "And I deem that the Enemy is somewhere between the Ettenmoors and the Northen arm of the misty Mountains. It is a strategic advantage for them because a host big enough to challenge then for battle will have to circle the hills of Ettenmoor and concealment is Impossible."

"But that is not our main concern," he continued. "We need scouts on the Weather hills and the lands to the north and East of our position. The enemy may yet send small parties in these parts and if they be not espied in time who knows what damage they might not to us and to the locals. We do not know the lands around well. If you agree with my plans Lord then..."

The dwarf Lord was interrupted in the midst of his speech by the veil covering his tent entrance being violently tossed aside. In came Barhun. He stared at the men and rudely shouted:
"What are you doing here? This is a dwarven meeting and rascals such as yourself have no place here. Go wait outside...."

"BARHUN!" Thorin roared, cutting short the dwarf in the midst of his insults. All the men and dwarves who were having breakfast outside sat up and stared at Thorin's tent. They were shocked when they saw Barhun roughly thrown out by the scuff of his collar with a very angry Thorin behind him.

"How dare you disrupt my Council and insult our allies? Your ill manners have reached its peak and you shall suffer my wrath! Whatever rank you may be, you aren't beyond my authority!"

He signaled to two or his guards. "Throw this fool in our cells and let him lie there for two days until he is himself again!"

Taking several deep breaths, he turned to Fornac and apologised for Barhun's action. "I hope you will forgive me for this My Lord! I have no fitting word to describe my embarrassment. If you wish for it My Lord, let us go back and continue with the council."

Thorin led the Captains and Fornad back in his great tent.

"I am sorry for this incident," he said. "But such bickering cannot much on our councils. Let us forget that and continue with our plan."

"I have already made clear our concerns earlier but there is an even greater news to be told here openly. This new is only know so far by myself and Fornad," Thorin spoke with a nod towards Fornad.

"But that new MUST be known only to us here or we run the risk of upsetting our own plans."
Thorin paced to and fro slowly, and held the eyes of all those present for a few seconds to make sure they got his orders.

"Alas my friends, it seems that Smaug was not the last Worm in Middle Earth. The northern army is led by another of this dreadful breed!"

Those present stared at Thorin in disbelief and after several breaths a babble of voices rose from the captains.

"This changes everything," one of Thorin's lieutenant spoke out. "What will happen if the troops get to know of that?"

"Peace!" The dwarf Lord spoke raising one hand. "This news must not be known of it will badly affect the morale of the troops. It is for this reason that I urge that scout parties be sent out today itself to the various watch point in Eriador. We must have early warning if that cursed beast arises against us."

"We dwarves, have a long history with these beast and can resist their fire to a certain extent but unaided we are no match for them. But these things we will leave for later. Our main concern now is to have an effective scouting system in place."

"What does Captain Fornad have to say to that?"

Posted Tuesday 4th May 2010 (03:59pm)
Edited by Thorin