MeowthTL
patreon
Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 257
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 17:29:06 +0000 UTCChapter 257: A New Mission
“Roar!”
The Olog-hai let out a tremendous roar, but no matter how loud, it could not avoid the fact it was about to die.
Black blood spurted from its neck as its body was engulfed in fierce flames, scattering nearby Uruk-hai.
One after another, the giant beasts fell; siege towers were dismantled.
This army no longer posed a threat to Dale.
The battle was settled.
At the battlefield’s edge, seeing their army’s powerful forces eliminated by a single person, the Uruk leader suddenly woke with a sharp intake of breath.
His eyes cleared.
“It’s that lord!” he shouted as if awakened from a trance.
But the surrounding Uruks ignored him and continued their assault.
“Damn it, are you crazy?”
“I am your leader. Now I command—all retreat!”
No one listened.
“Are you all deaf?!” He grabbed one Uruk tightly, staring into bloodshot eyes devoid of reason.
Others around him, even the East-Men, were the same.
“This is wrong. You’re all wrong.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Why am I here?”
He pondered.
The last memory was in Minas Morgul. As a recently promoted Uruk leader, the Witch-king had seemed to value him, allowing entry into the Tower of Sorcery.
He always believed his deeds were flawless—secretly connecting with Levi at the front lines, working for Levi while serving as Uruk leader at the rear, and directly serving the Witch-king.
Until the day the Witch-king summoned him and he realized he had been too arrogant.
“You think you are clever?”
Many days ago, in the Tower of Sorcery, the Witch-king grabbed his head. A terrifying sound issued from the dark helmet.
“You, and all the cowardly traitorous scum you lead, deserve to die.”
The memory ended.
When he regained consciousness, he was here.
Chill pierced the leader’s heart, and cold sweat poured.
“I have not betrayed the master!”
He shouted, but clearly no one believed or heard him.
Hum—
A clear horn sounded from the south. Turning, he saw a silver-armored elven army advancing, some stained with blood.
It was the Mirkwood army rushing over.
At the same time, Dale sounded mobilization horns, dwarves charged out in succession.
Elves, dwarves, and humans fought together once again—an absolutely dominating alliance.
“Is that necessary?”
Forget these triple alliance forces—the lord who had been destroying front lines alone only needed time to crush all present.
Confusion rose in the Uruk leader’s heart as he instinctively retreated, shielding his many followers and a few East-Men friends.
“This isn’t right; something’s wrong.”
He pushed away his comrades and kept retreating until leaving the battlefield.
Ahead was a raging river; behind, the roar of hellish battle.
Under the lord’s lead, the triple alliance swept the battlefield, annihilating all resistance.
Whoosh
An arrow pierced the Uruk leader’s foot—the leader of both the army and the deserters.
“Damn!”
Seeing his comrades captured or cut down, the leader no longer cared. Despite his injury, he leaped into the river.
Splash!
Water splashed as all noise faded behind.
He struggled, gritting his teeth.
An unprecedented will to live surged forth.
“I do not want to die…”
“Heh… I must, I will survive…”
…
The sun rose over Riverside Keep, and crises in the Dale region’s towns were quickly resolved.
“Almost a perfect victory.”
“Lord Levi, have I arrived in time?”
Thranduil leisurely dismounted from his elk and greeted Levi.
“Perfect timing.”
Elves were always like that.
“Consider it you arrived just in time.”
Thorin, habitually stern under Thranduil’s gaze, finally squeezed out a “Well done.”
Oh?
Thranduil raised an eyebrow in surprise.
For this fellow to say that was truly rare.
Warriors poured from the city to clean the ravaged battlefield.
Inside the city, a figure stealthily approached the stable but was quickly discovered.
“Eurohir!”
Levi shouted, waving.
Eurohir stiffened, trying to appear nonchalant.
“I saw you. What are you doing here?”
Levi shouted again, pulling him back.
This time Eurohir had to turn.
“Long time no see.”
“Yes, it has been.”
“I heard it was you who delivered the news of the enemy’s arrival ahead of time. I have to thank you for that.”
“Small matters, do not mind it.”
Eurohir waved.
Thranduil followed.
“Kin from afar… huh?”
About to greet the elf estate owner from Dorwinion, Thranduil paused slightly upon seeing his face.
“You…”
Eurohir shook his head.
“You know each other?”
Levi was not clueless and noticed their small gestures.
“Yes, we met a few times long ago.”
“Oh? ‘Long ago’ in elven terms is at least a thousand years, right?”
“Indeed, the last meeting was over a thousand years ago.”
Thranduil looked at Eurohir, then Levi, thinking briefly, before saying:
“They have always been reliable commercial partners. Their wine quality is steady and trustworthy.”
“Alright, let us call it that.”
Seeing that neither wanted to say more, Levi did not pursue.
Once he moved away slightly, the two elves resumed their conversation.
“I do not represent anyone or any power—only myself this visit,” Eurohir first spoke.
“Dorwinion remains a land that stays out of conflicts. Please do not spread that I came.”
“Understood.”
Thranduil agreed promptly.
With this promise from the Woodland King, Eurohir relaxed.
He continued, “Personally, I am very willing to make friends with such a strong ally.”
“It's just a pity he is ultimately human. No matter how powerful, humans have limits. Even Dúnedain lifespans are only a few hundred years.”
“Powerful kingdoms come and go, trying to conquer everything, then decline. Only seemingly weak beings like us endure.”
Non-contention was Dorwinion’s way.
If someone sought to conquer them, they became subjects and then carried on with their lives. The previously conquering kingdoms eventually vanished.
“Humans?”
Thranduil’s lips curled slightly.
“Do you really think so?”
Eurohir said nothing.
“If you truly thought so, you would not be here in person.”
“Think it over.”
Leaving that last sentence, Thranduil departed with his elven army back to the forest.
At the original spot, Eurohir watched him leave until he disappeared from sight, then went to the stable to lead his already resting horse.
“Thank you for your troubles,” he murmured softly while stroking its head.
…
Inside Mordor, the Black Tower.
In the vast black hall, three suits of black armor forged by Sauron suddenly moved. Something seemed to fill them, making them dark and profound.
The Nazgûl regained their bodies.
“Mission accomplished.”
“All who do not belong to our master and the traitors are now dead.”
“All that needed to be discovered has been explored; all seeds that needed to be sown have been sown.”
Just as the three Nazgûl prepared to return to their stations, another Nazgûl appeared, blocking their way.
“The master has new orders. Prepare yourselves.”
The three Nazgûl glanced at each other and followed the newcomer.
More work had arrived.
