Erebor Citedal, Erebor
Upon the battlements:
The mid morning sun shined down upon the dwarven king as he marches across the battlements with his son and advisors. There was a great peace among the realm of Erebor and Dale, but that peace is about to shatter. Lorien is under siege, and some of the dwarven army is there, fighting to defend the Golden Wood, once bitter enemies of Dain. Dain also heard of a vast horde of spiders and orcs assailing Thrandruil's realm of Mirkwood. The enemy has made the first move against the north, but Dain decided he would make the last.
Looking down from his balcony high atop the Dale, a vast host of dwarves gathered. They stood in line, spears high, and shields at attention. The banners of Erebor fluttered gently in the light breeze alongside the force. These were his legions. This was his response to Sauron, the whole might of Erebor.
This was but a taste of what Dain could muster, a larger force would take more time, something that Dain has less of with each passing hour. His officers stood tall and proud alongside Dain, ready to fall, ready to die at a moments notice for Erebor. Turning to his advisor Flint, Dain gestured towards the foremost line.
"Is this all?" Dain asked curiously. The force was impressive, but not as much as Dain anticipated. Nearly 4,000 dwarves were mustered, armed and armored in the best gear in Middle-Earth. Such a force was valuable, worth several times more then an orc or goblin host, perhaps even an elven host. "Will this be enough you think?"
Flint nodded towards his superior with his grim expression. Flint was a battle hardened dwarf, one whom had fought at Gundabad hundreds of years ago, in the War of Dwarves and Orcs. He followed Dain into the Battle of The Five Armies as his second. Dain respected his advice more so then his own son. "Aye, this be a fine army," Flint finally said, gazing upon the force of glittering dwarves.
"We should continue to raise our forces though," he quickly added,"or we will lose this war. Mirkwood is a treacherous place. A place not meant for dwarves."
"Noted," Dain responded. He looked to his son,"write a letter immediately to Thranduil. Tell him we are coming."
"Yes father!" Thorin said, pounding his chest.
Dain looked out upon his host. "So it begins, the battle for Mirkwood, and soon all of Middle-Earth."