Roland gazed at the 500 light infantrymen standing before him, their ragged uniforms and lackluster equipment a stark contrast to the disciplined soldiers he had once imagined. These were not the warriors he needed to defend the city. They were more mouths to feed, and in a time when food was scarce, they felt more like a burden than an asset.

"Five hundred more mouths to feed, with little to show for it," Roland muttered under his breath, frustration gnawing at him. The thought of disbanding them crossed his mind, but he knew he couldn’t simply send them away. Despite their shortcomings, they were the best he had—better than nothing.

Reynold approached cautiously, sensing Roland's discontent. "King... the food and clothing... it's not enough."

Roland sighed deeply, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. "I know," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "We’ll have to find a way."

With no other choice, Roland set out north with the conscripted infantry, hoping to find a solution. However, the journey only served to confirm his worst fears. The soldiers were inexperienced, poorly trained, and lacked any real discipline. When they encountered a small band of orcs armed with nothing but wooden sticks, the infantry panicked, fleeing in disarray and even knocking down the knights meant to protect them. Roland’s anger flared as he beheaded the orc leader and tossed the severed head at the feet of his troops.

"This is the army of the Empire?" he roared, his voice echoing across the plains. "This is your glory? Five hundred of you, driven off by sixteen orcs with wooden sticks? How can you call yourselves soldiers?"

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His outburst was met with silence, the light infantry too ashamed to meet his gaze. Roland turned his horse sharply, leaving them behind as he rode toward the Lonely Mountain, his heart heavy with disappointment.

"Follow your lord," Kaslow ordered the knights, sending them after Roland to ensure his safety while he stayed behind to manage the demoralized infantry.

Upon reaching the Lonely Mountain, Roland sought out Thorin Oakenshield, hoping the dwarf king could offer some assistance. Thorin, still wary after their last encounter, listened as Roland explained the dire situation. The sight of the light infantry, ragged and starving, eating voraciously in the dwarven hall, only added to Thorin’s concern.

"Beards above! Are these really soldiers?" Thorin exclaimed, eyeing the ragged men with disbelief. "You’re not serious about sending these civilians to war, are you?"

"They’re conscripted militia," Roland admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment. "They need better equipment, something that will give them a fighting chance."

Thorin sighed, then nodded. "Alright, let’s see what we can do. We’ll outfit them with spears—three meters long, so they can keep the orcs at a distance. For armor, we’ll use chainmail. It’s light enough for them to move in but strong enough to offer protection."

Roland felt a surge of gratitude. "Thank you, Thorin. This will make a difference."

"Don’t thank me yet," Thorin replied. "These men are still not ready for battle, but we’ll do what we can. I’ll have them equipped with cross shields and battle axes as well. They’re simple, but effective weapons. And since they’re going to be defending rather than attacking, that should be enough."

As they walked through the dwarven armory, Thorin paused. "Do you need bows and arrows? We have plenty in storage."

"Yes," Roland said after a moment's thought. "They’ll need to practice, but it’s something they can work on during the winter."

Thorin called out to Kili, instructing him to prepare six months' worth of supplies for the soldiers. As Kili walked away, Roland noticed something that brought a smile to his face—the elf Tauriel, standing close by.

"It seems some things have changed for the better," Roland remarked, glancing at Thorin.

Thorin chuckled. "Indeed. Now, let’s make sure your soldiers are ready for what lies ahead."

Roland nodded, feeling a renewed sense of hope. With Thorin’s help, perhaps these men could be turned into something resembling a fighting force. The road ahead was still uncertain, but at least now, they were better prepared for the challenges to come.