Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Full speed ahead! We've lost a whole day on them!" Rynar urged.

"My lord, there's really no need to worry too much. They don't have horses, and we can outrun them easily," Caslow reassured Rynar.

This earned him a few looks of disbelief from the others. 

Following their gaze, Caslow was taken aback… 200 fully armed rapid infantrymen were trudging along, carrying their spears and shields with labored breaths.

"Great! Pretend I didn't say anything!" Caslow said helplessly.

By the way, the rapid infantry were named not only because they were recruited from the River Running region but also because they trained rapidly, were physically strong, and had great endurance. 

They excelled in long-distance marches, but that didn't mean they could match the speed of cavalry.

Carlos felt a twinge of offense.

A thunderous "Boom~" echoed from the sky as silver serpents twisted above.

"It's going to rain heavily!" Reynard said gravely.

"Maybe everyone should take shelter and rest for a while," Rynar suggested, glancing at the sky.

"Whoosh~ Boom!" Suddenly, a massive boulder plummeted from the sky and landed heavily not far from Rynar and the others, prompting everyone to raise their shields against the flying debris.

"Someone's attacking! Stay alert!" Caslow was the first to react.

"Holy hell! Look above!" Rynar accidentally glanced up at the neighboring valley, and his heart nearly stopped.

"Mountain giants!"

"Run!" Reynard shouted.

In an instant, everyone cursed their parents for not giving them two extra legs and sprinted toward the valley exit.

"Damn it, how can there be mountain giants here? Aren't they supposed to be extinct?" Caslow exclaimed, mud and rain mixing on his body.

"Who the hell knows! This is ridiculous!" Reynard replied, losing his mind.

"Are mountain giants part of the evil camp or the lawful camp?" Rynar couldn't help but ask.

"They're neutral! Those barbarians just want to live their own little lives. They should have gone extinct in the First Age!" Reynard explained, confused.

"Maybe they're survivors," Caslow said, glancing nervously at the commotion in the valley behind them.

"If I'm not mistaken, they were throwing boulders just now?" Rynar asked curiously.

"Yeah, those barbarians love throwing stones during thunderstorms. We've really got the worst luck…" Reynard sighed.

Wait a minute! Rynar was taken aback. 

Are these the stone giants that were throwing stones in The Hobbit? 

From his quick glance, these mountain giants were at least 50 meters tall, and every movement of theirs felt like it could cause catastrophic destruction… 

It was terrifying to think they had just passed so close to them; cold sweat broke out on Rynar's forehead.

"My lord, we can't go any further…" Reynard frowned.

"It's definitely too dangerous. Don't worry, I won't risk the lives of my people. 

The Zaltarion Empire is still waiting for my revival; after all, I'm the last lord of Zaltarion," Rynar nodded, confirming Reynard's thoughts.

"Let everyone rest and stay on alert. We're now in the Misty Mountains; half-orcs could attack at any moment!" Rynar commanded.

"Yes, my lord!" Reynard replied, turning to leave.

Caslow had set up the tent by then and quickly escorted Rynar inside to prevent him from getting drenched.

"My lord, what's our plan for tomorrow?" Caslow asked.

"We'll see if the stone giants have moved on. 

If they're still playing there, we'll have to take a detour. After all, we can't defeat them," Rynar said, already feeling a headache at the thought of those boulder-headed giants.

Lying in bed, Rynar tossed and turned, struggling to sleep. It seemed this world was somewhat different from the original works, movies, and games. 

Perhaps because there were no players, the world of Middle-earth, originally set in game, had merged with the original narrative, resulting in this strange, hybrid world.

"Oh, heavens, have mercy on me! Please don't let anything go wrong with the Battle of the Five Armies," Rynar prayed. 

He could clearly sense that his involvement had led to an increase in half-orc pursuers. 

Perhaps this time, the enemy's forces for the Battle of the Five Armies would be greater than he had anticipated.

"Maybe it's because I've altered history and touched an important timeline," Rynar contemplated.

"I can't travel with them any longer!" Rynar suddenly sat up.

"I need to make a change. 

Since I can't reverse history, I'll change it! I will arrive as reinforcements on the battlefield! Let's make this the Battle of Six Armies!" Rynar resolved within himself.

"Sleep, sleep. My life is more important! If I'd known, I wouldn't have run out in the middle of the night. Rivendell was so nice, with beautiful elf maidens." Rynar lamented.

After all, he hadn't stayed in Rivendell long enough; he hadn't even had the chance to explore and experience the local customs, let alone have any joyful encounters with the lovely elven ladies…

"Oh, what a pity! What a regret!" Rynar moaned. Now that he thought about it, Thorin and the others had nothing to do with him. 

He was just looking for some reliable allies and hoping to earn a little money on the side… Besides, that honest Dain was also a good guy; letting him become the King under the Mountain, as in history, would be fine. 

Bard the Bowman was also someone he could build a deep friendship with; after all, the revitalized Lake-town had some potential for war.

Rynar planned to build a city in the rapid region first to establish the framework of the Zaltarion Kingdom, which should yield another round of system rewards. 

The thought of those rewards made Rynar's little demon tail wag with joy.

"There's not much time left… I probably won't be able to gather 1,000 men before the war starts," Rynar calculated, feeling a bit disappointed.

"Oh, system! I'm not asking for a thousand men; I just hope for another 100 rapid infantry! At least give me enough for the 300-man for formation," Rynar muttered to the system ring in his hand.

...

Meanwhile...

"Gandalf! Think of something!" The people, chased by the wargs, anxiously looked at Gandalf.

A cryptic incantation echoed as a six-pointed star formation appeared before Gandalf.

"Go!" 

Gandalf opened his eyes, waved his staff, and immediately dozens of fireballs, each the size of a head, flew out from the star, turning over a thousand square meters of ground—and the half-orcs and wargs on it—into scorched earth.

"Well done, Gandalf!" the others cheered, as a high-level spell—Meteor Swarm—gave them confidence and morale.

"Um, gentlemen, I think we should hold off on the celebration… It seems those half-orcs up ahead aren't too keen on our joy…" Bilbo stammered.

"Oh! By the Gods of Smithing!"

"My goodness…"

Under the starry sky, a dark wave of half-orc warg riders surrounded them, led by the pale half-orc Azog!

"No way!" Thorin was momentarily stunned.

"This is mine! Kill everyone else!" Azog roared.

"Firebrands!" Gandalf, as he did in history, began the human trickery—lighting the pine cones.

Everyone ignited their pine cones and threw them at Azog and the other half-orcs.

"Roar!" The wargs hesitated, unwilling to move forward due to the flames, and Azog roared angrily.