"Rustle—rustle—rustle—"
From the distance, the sound of something thrashing through the underbrush broke the stillness. Several Bretonnian archers instantly raised their bows, arrows nocked and ready.
"Aaah! Fire! Death! Murderer!"
A figure burst out from between the trees—riding a sled pulled by… a dozen rabbits.
"Radagast!" Gandalf's eyes lit up. He quickly waved for everyone to lower their weapons.
Radagast the Brown? Roland thought to himself. Shouldn't he be a wizard on the same level as Gandalf? In this version of Middle-earth there were no Valar, no Maiar, and honestly, Roland had no idea how to rank this "bottom-of-the-ladder" wizard from the original story.
"Don't worry, everyone—this is Radagast the Brown," Gandalf introduced cheerfully.
"Radagast, what brings you here?" Gandalf asked curiously.
"I've been looking for you. Mirkwood is sick." Radagast lowered his voice, trying to sound mysterious.
"Hm?" Gandalf tilted his head.
"Uh…" Just as Roland remembered, poor Radagast promptly forgot what he was about to say.
Roland suddenly stiffened, turning away to stare very hard at the scenery. He knew exactly what was about to happen.
Sure enough, Radagast opened his mouth and… pulled out a live stick insect.
"Urgh—!" One of the knights who saw it gagged and bent over to vomit.
Even the normally thick-skinned dwarves twitched at the corners of their eyes. Bilbo's complexion, meanwhile, went from pale to green to purple in record time.
Roland congratulated himself for looking away in time—he didn't need that mental image burned into his retinas.
"Ha! A stick insect!" Radagast said brightly.
"BLEEUGH!" Several knights who'd barely held their stomachs moments ago lost the battle entirely.
"Mirkwood is sick. Darkness is spreading, nothing grows anymore, the air stinks of rot—and worst of all… the webs."
"Webs? What webs?" Gandalf asked, alarmed.
"Spiders! Huge ones! I'm sure they're descendants of Ungoliant. I tracked them—they came from Dol Guldur!" Radagast said seriously.
"Dol Guldur? The old fortress?" Gandalf's eyes widened.
"That place's been abandoned for ages!"
"No! It hasn't! There's a Necromancer squatting there…" Radagast's voice trembled.
"Here—take a puff of Old Toby. Might steady your nerves." Gandalf handed over his pipe.
After a deep inhale, Gandalf asked, "Now… are you sure it's a Necromancer?"
Radagast didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a cloth bundle from his robes.
"This is no weapon of Men!" he said firmly.
Gandalf opened the bundle, his expression tightening instantly. He was just about to speak when—
"Awooo!"
"What was that? Are there wolves in these woods?" Bilbo asked.
"Bloody hell—full alert! Wargs!" Roland barked.
Shing! Reynaud drew his sword.
Roar! A hulking warg leapt from the shadows—bigger and stronger than any Roland had fought before.
"Die!" Caslow hefted his spear to throw, but the Bretonnian archers—already on edge—were faster. An arrow zipped straight into the warg's eye.
"Damn it! A warg scout!" Gandalf's face darkened.
"We're being hunted. The orc army must be close!" Roland shouted.
"Argh!" A knight was knocked down by another warg—saved only when his comrade lopped the beast's head off.
"Out of the woods!" Roland forced himself to stay calm.
"Sir, which way?" Reynaud was already at his side.
"Gandalf! Take us to Rivendell!" Roland called.
"This way!" Gandalf pointed.
"Why Rivendell? You think those damned Elves will help us?" Thorin roared.
"My friend, if you want to be swept away by the orc tide, be my guest! The bloodline of Durin will end today! But I'm not dragging Bretonnian knights to die for you!" Roland shot back coldly.
"If you think thirteen dwarves can fight an orc army—be my guest! Knights—move out!" Roland wheeled his horse and charged ahead.
Thorin should have been grateful—at least they still had ponies. In the original story, they'd lost even those.
Predictably, good sense prevailed, and Thorin led his company after them.
"Gandalf! Take them and go! We'll hold the rear—otherwise no one's getting out alive!" Roland bellowed.
"All Bretonnian archers! Go with them—protect them!" Roland ordered, then spun his horse toward the plains.
"Knights of the Holy Light—ride!"
Sure enough, the orc army took the bait, thundering after Roland's force and ignoring the smaller group.
…
"No!" Thorin groaned in anguish from horseback.
"We have to go back for them!" He still hadn't fallen under the Lonely Mountain's curse—he was still the Thorin who valued loyalty above all.
"Don't! They've paid a high price to give us this chance! We can't waste it!" Gandalf snapped.
"We should find the Elves!" one Bretonnian archer suggested.
"Rivendell's close—we should find patrols or rangers nearby," another agreed.
"Yes… we'll seek Lord Elrond's aid," Gandalf murmured, eyes fixed on the distant hills.
…
"Form up! Shields tight!" Roland reined in his horse, letting it rest for a moment.
"From here, you command," he told Reynaud.
"Yes, my lord," Reynaud said, worry etched on his face.
"Don't fret—Caslow will back us up," Roland said, clapping his shoulder.
Out of sight from the others, Roland's strongest card could finally be played—a dragon rider against warg-riders was… well, overkill.
"You do know Caslow's a dragon rider, right? As in—has an actual dragon."
"…No one told me." Reynaud gave Caslow a long, stunned look. The guy's been carrying a dragon in his pocket this whole time? No wonder Roland isn't panicking—and even sent the others away.
"Awooo!"
"Raaah!"
The orc warg-riders appeared—two to three hundred in total.
"…That's it?" Roland nearly choked.
"Ah… hahaha…" Reynaud's earlier tension evaporated into awkward laughter.
"…Oh for—" Caslow facepalmed.
They'd been scared half to death, fled the woods, nearly unleashed a dragon—and for this? Three hundred measly warg-riders? If anyone heard about this, Roland would have to consider… silencing witnesses.
"Alright, boys—hit 'em!" Roland shouted, full battle mode.
"Knights! CHARGE!" Reynaud yelled, cheeks red with embarrassment.
From above, their formation looked like a moving wall of steel.
"Ride like the wall!" Reynaud bellowed.
BOOM! The wall smashed into the orc line.
…
Congratulations, Host—Main Quest Unlocked: The Lonely Mountain Expedition! a glowing panel popped up before Roland's eyes as the fight ended.
"…You've got to be kidding me. All this time I thought this stupid ring's system was just an achievement farm—and only now I trigger the main quest?!" Roland felt deeply wronged.
"Fine. Sign in."
Daily Sign-in Complete. Reward: 90 Bretonnian Archers.
"…So, system, are you stockpiling troops for me for the Lord of the Rings war?" Roland smirked.
This time, with no other "players" interfering in the Battle of the Five Armies, the orcs only numbered thirty thousand. The dwarves had five hundred, the elves three thousand, and a few hundred men. Roland… was basically the straw that broke the fell beast's back—except he was more like a sugarcane stalk.
With his stash of Shire warhorses, he could kit out the new archers as heavy cavalry. Two hundred armored, mobile troops—plus a paladin with aura buffs and a dragon rider—could turn the tide of battle entirely.
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