"We mean no harm. We only hope that you will allow us to rent some ships, and we are willing to pay a fair price for them," Balin said sincerely, placing a hand over his chest.
"Dwarves? I hate dwarves... This is the pure land of the North! Dwarves are not welcome here! You bring only war and death!" Beorn rumbled.
"Hey! I think we can talk this through! I remember you. We fought side by side in the Battle of the Lonely Mountain, didn't we? We are friends!" Balin quickly interjected.
"No! The Skin-changers fought not because of you dwarves, but because we love nature! We fought to preserve the stability of this land! If we had allowed the Orcs to run rampant, those poor people would have had no chance at survival!" Beorn cut him off sharply.
"We acted for our own reasons. We have never formed any kind of alliance with the dwarves!" Beorn declared firmly.
"We need your help, just as you once helped us during our expedition. Dwarves never forget their friends," Balin played the emotional card.
"Back then, you were only a handful of people. Look at you now! You march with an army! We do not wish to involve ourselves in your grievances. Leave this place! Though this newborn city is still weak, its people are willing to shed their last drop of blood for it. No one can force us to yield! Not even if you stand at our gates with your army! The Northern humans fear nothing!" Beorn thumped his chest and let out a battle howl. His body rapidly expanded, muscles bulging and tearing through his clothes. Thick brown fur sprouted from his skin, and in mere moments, a towering bear, nearly five meters tall, stood atop the city walls.
Watching the two sides teeter on the edge of conflict, Rynar, who had been awkwardly observing, could no longer sit still. Knowing the dwarves' straightforward nature, if a fight did break out, who was he supposed to support?
"Wait a moment!" Rynar raised a hand to halt the escalating tension.
"Greetings, Carrock... That is what this place is called, correct? Lord of Carrock, I am Rynar, King of the Zaltarion Kingdom. I apologize on behalf of these dwarves for their lack of tact. They may not fully understand that druids who cherish nature are not fond of them. However, I do not believe we need to be so hostile. War benefits no one. I acknowledge the strength of the Skin-changer clan—even the dwarven army must tread carefully around you," Rynar said earnestly.
"Hmph..." Balin quickly pulled back the indignant Óin before he could argue.
"We are all part of the North. You must understand the saying: 'if the lips perish, the teeth will feel the cold.' They have no other intentions. Reclaiming Moria has been their lifelong dream. Therefore, my lord, you need not worry about them bringing trouble. We only wish to cross the river and will ensure that neither you nor your people are disturbed," Rynar assured him.
"A human king? And why are you traveling with dwarves?" Beorn, who had gradually calmed down, now looked at Rynar with curiosity.
"Well... perhaps because they offered me something I couldn't refuse," Rynar shrugged. After all, soldiers needed to eat, and trade required gold, and he happened to be flat broke.
"I will need to consider this..." Beorn said after a moment of contemplation.
"Don't worry. Dwarves can be stubborn and even frustrating at times, but once you get to know them, you'll find that they are actually quite good company," Rynar chuckled.
"Your numbers are too great... For safety reasons, this place cannot accommodate so many soldiers," Beorn finally relented after some thought.
"We won't stay long. Let them camp outside for the night; there is no need to enter the city," Rynar agreed. He understood—he wouldn't allow such a large foreign army into his own city either.
"Balin, bring a few men with us. Let's go in and speak with Beorn. His people control the Old Pass, the only western route to the Lonely Mountain. You dwarves will have to deal with him in the future, so forming a good relationship now will benefit everyone. What do you think, Balin?" Rynar asked.
"You are right. Your wisdom is as formidable as your army. More friends are always better than more enemies," Balin agreed.
"Caslow, set up camp for the men. We'll rest here for the night and figure out how to cross the river tomorrow. Meanwhile, we'll go and speak with Beorn. It's only polite to greet our neighbors," Rynar instructed.
"This isn't appropriate... Your safety..." Caslow hesitated.
"Relax. Omsk will be with me. Do you not trust him? He's our strongest fighter. With him protecting me, nothing will happen," Rynar reassured him with a hearty laugh. Not to mention, Beorn had no reason to harm him. And even if someone did try, they would have to reckon with a Sixth-Tier Hero! Under Sixth Tier, he was invincible. Against someone at Sixth Tier, he could still trade one for one!
"Very well. If anything happens, crush this scale, and I will bring the troops to rescue you immediately!" Caslow handed Rynar a small, greenish dragon scale.
"Hey! Isn't this the Dragon Knight's advanced skill—the Perceptive Scale?" Rynar exclaimed. In the game, this item had a simple function: summoning reinforcements! As long as the scale was broken, its owner would sense it no matter the distance. This was essentially a high-level player's nuclear option!
"Your Highness is well-versed in such things!" Caslow, who had been about to explain, smiled and gave a thumbs-up.
"Let's go, Balin. Time to meet him!" Rynar said to the future King of the Dwarves.
"Of course. I'd like to meet him as well. If we can resolve our misunderstandings, all the better," Balin agreed.
Truthfully, Balin was one of the few wise dwarves. A battle-hardened veteran with rich experience, he possessed a wisdom uncommon among his kind. Although the original story never fully explored it, the fact that he had led a mere handful of dwarves to reclaim Moria spoke volumes about his capability—he was no reckless fool.
"Good. To be honest, you dwarves have quite the temper..." Rynar shrugged, giving Balin a knowing look.
"But we are also honest, aren't we? At least, a dwarf would never betray a friend," Balin sighed.
"Let's go..."
...
As they approached the town gates, Beorn was there to greet them personally.
"Welcome, Prince Rynar. I am at your service," he said.
"This is Omsk, the Hero of Light and Shadow," Rynar introduced, watching as Beorn and his people were visibly awed. As a Third-Tier Druid, Beorn understood the vast gulf between himself and this man.
"Greetings, Lord Omsk," Beorn said quickly, forcing a smile.