No one could give an exact number of how many people answered the call. But one thing was certain: the number of levied soldiers who eventually set out from Dale was exactly 3,500, not one more, not one less, each clad in intricately crafted, fully protective, high-quality plate armor.
So well-armored, in fact, that even Garrett got a headache just looking at them.
Setting aside combat skill, at least in terms of equipment, this army was on par with the Dwarves and Elves.
"What's going on?"
As the army began to assemble, Thorin rushed out from the halls of Erebor.
From atop the Lonely Mountain's ramparts, Thorin, along with Balin and several other dwarven nobles, looked out toward the well-equipped army gathering in the distance, whose movements were still somewhat unpolished.
Balin squinted and stared at a particular spot. "That's the army from Dale and Lake-town. I recognize them. The third soldier from the left in the front row once asked me for advice on how to fight orcs two years ago."
"And what did you tell him?"
"Hit them on the head."
"No, I think that's too vague. If an orc charges, you should first—"
"Stop. What we should be discussing is that army!"
Seeing the conversation drift increasingly off course, Fíli quickly cut them off.
"Is Garrett planning to attack somewhere?"
Snapping back to the moment, the dwarves exchanged glances. From each other's eyes, they could all see the same emotion, surprise.
Just what kind of threat would require that fellow to gather an army?
And if the enemy was strong enough to need thousands of troops to handle, then that meant they couldn't afford not to go.
"Perhaps it's a training exercise."
That logic made sense.
"And the destination?"
"They're heading toward Lake-town."
Thorin thought for a moment:
"I heard the road's been extended all the way to near the Misty Mountains."
Near the Misty Mountains...
"Goblin-town."
Several dwarves said the name in unison.
Glóin's eyes widened. "They're attacking that place and didn't even tell us?!"
"Exactly!"
A chorus of protest followed.
The members of the Company had never forgotten how they had been tortured and abused by goblins in Goblin-town. If their skin hadn't been tough enough, the spiked whips and clubs would have left plenty of scars.
"Thorin, I want to go too. You won't stop me, will you?"
The youngest and most impulsive, Fíli, was the first to speak up.
Thorin slowly turned to look at him, then turned his whole body.
He said, "Of course."
"And not just you, or any of you."
"I'm going too."
"Oh!"
A cheer rang out, as if this were some kind of countryside excursion rather than a march to war.
Once the decision was made, even Thorin's steps became noticeably lighter.
They headed for the armory.
"Wait."
He suddenly thought of something.
"I don't think we've actually spoken to Garrett about this yet."
---
Moments later, in front of Dale, Garrett stood scratching his head as he looked at the group of fully armed dwarves before him.
"Ahem."
Thorin stepped forward, holding his helmet, and said, "I heard you're going to attack Goblin-town, so I came to ask if you needed assistance."
"Where did you hear that?"
From his own imagination.
But he couldn't say that.
"Well... I just heard it. With such a large movement, word was bound to spread."
"...Alright then."
Garrett nodded, seemingly convinced.
"No need."
He declined, "They're just some goblins. I could handle them alone, let alone with this army of fired-up soldiers."
"The goblins in Goblin-town might actually be a good challenge to help them grow."
Upon hearing this, the dwarves clearly looked disappointed.
Thorin quietly walked over and said in a low voice, "Garrett, of course I know everything you just said. I just hope you haven't forgotten the winding tunnels in those caves, the hanging bridges and deadly hidden doors."
Hearing that, Garrett paused.
A frontal assault was easy enough, goblins with that level of numbers and ragged equipment would be crushed like twigs. But in cave terrain, it would essentially turn into tunnel fighting. If they were ambushed, there could be real casualties.
"Good point. I'll just blow the caves open and level them. Then there'll be nowhere left to hide."
At that, Thorin felt completely deflated.
He let out a quiet sigh and admitted, "Ever since Erebor was reclaimed, I've been buried in endless duties. I've sat in that hall for years. I feel like I'm starting to rust."
"..."
Garrett stared at him for a few seconds, seeing how earnestly he said those words, then finally relented. "Alright then. Maybe we do need a few guides."
"When it comes to knowledge of underground environments, dwarves are true experts."
In the final decision, the dwarves did join the campaign.
However, they didn't deploy an army directly. They only sent a few guides.
Well... plus over half the royal family, and their king.
They would bear witness to the battle.
---
Rumble...
In the open square, the soldiers turned in unison and raised their heads, all facing the direction where Garrett stood.
Their discipline was flawless. Battle intent burned in their bright eyes. As for morale, as long as the one they had sworn loyalty to still stood, it was virtually limitless.
A gust of wind kicked up a swirl of dust, only to settle a short distance away, as if it had been suppressed by the presence of this heavily armed force.
The atmosphere was eerily quiet. No one moved.
The soldiers stood motionless, watching the dark figure standing at the front of their formation, equally unmoving.
After a moment, Bard couldn't help but quietly tap Garrett's armor from behind and whispered, "It's your turn."
"What?" Garrett tilted his head slightly.
"Say something."
"Huh?"
"..."
Bard was silent for a second. Then he took a deep breath and said, "A lot of people answered the call these past days, more than we expected. I even had to send some of them home."
"When the call went out, bakers from Dale, fishermen from Lake-town, road workers, and boatmen all put down their tools. Even tavern maids and housewives came asking how they could help."
"And all of it is because of you. You carry the hopes and will of the people."
"I'm not trying to pressure you, but everyone's watching. Everyone knows who made their current lives possible."
"Don't worry, you won't stumble. Even if you just say a few simple words, no one will mind."
Garrett's expression turned serious as he began to truly look over the faces below, some young, some weathered.
All this time, he had barely appeared within the territories. People rarely saw him, like someone once said, he was more like an adventurer than a lord. And yet, even though he was rarely seen, and seemed perpetually absent, every transformation in the territory could be traced back to the powers he had shared. The miraculous things that happened daily were constant reminders to the people that their lord was always with them.
He was absent, but also omnipresent.
"My people."
He began to speak. His voice carried a barely noticeable tremor.
Faced with tens of thousands of enemies, he could shout boldly and defy everything. But when the audience was his own, his tone turned unusually gentle.
A calm but clear voice rang out.
"I know what you are thinking right now. I can feel the fire and fighting spirit burning in your hearts."
"You are willing to obey my command, to follow me into battle, no matter how strong or weak the enemy, because I have given you a better life than ever before."
"But I must say this: the prosperity we see today was not built by me alone. It was built through the hard work of every one of you. All the wealth and beauty was created by your own hands."
"Now, for a better life, for a greater goal, and for lasting peace..."
"March forward!"
It was a simple speech. No poetic phrasing, no soaring rhetoric, no rousing emotion.
But that day, Dale and the Mountain trembled.