Buzz.
Deep underground, directly below, a ring began to tremble.
"My precious~"
A filthy hand caressed it, gripping it tightly.
---
"The more powerful one becomes, the easier it is to be blinded by power and fall to its temptation. But such people never come to a good end, because that item has only ever had one true master. Isildur, who once possessed the Ring, was tempted right before Mount Doom, and ultimately perished in the Gladden Fields south of here. The Ring was lost there, or perhaps swept away by the waters."
At the foot of the mountain, Gandalf walked ahead, recounting the major historical events that had taken place in this region.
Garrett walked behind him, silently listening, nodding occasionally.
"Say, if back then someone had simply kicked him into the volcano, wouldn't all that later trouble have been avoided?"
Gandalf glanced at him.
"All fates follow a certain course. The possibility you speak of, even if that moment were repeated a hundred or a thousand times, would never come to pass."
The situation was far too complex for such simple solutions.
"Alright, I'll trust your wisdom."
The two of them walked and conversed casually, discussing various matters in a relaxed manner, as if the great battle they had just survived was no more than a fleeting memory.
Of course, Garrett hadn't intended to stand his ground against the entire orc force. After the initial clash at the pass, they had fought while retreating. Perhaps the orcs had truly been intimidated, or maybe the attack was too sudden, either way, the orcs' pursuit was half-hearted. In no time, the two had escaped the mountain range entirely.
But even so, Gandalf harbored a peculiar feeling.
This man behind him, if you claimed he didn't know history, well, he clearly understood many ancient and obscure secrets. But if you insisted he did comprehend history, that didn't quite fit either. Ask him for basic details or even common knowledge, and he'd simply say he didn't know.
It was most contradictory.
"Shh—"
Out on a plain far from the Misty Mountains, he suddenly halted and motioned for Garrett to remain silent.
"Orcs."
ROAR!
With a low growl from a warg, a company of orc riders thundered past, heading in one direction.
"I suspect there's an orc stronghold over there, or at the very least, an encampment."
Gandalf peered out from behind cover, watching the retreating forms of the orcs.
"So what do we do? Eliminate them?"
"Oh, no, no, that's far too dangerous. There are only two of us—"
Looking at Garrett's relaxed expression, Gandalf suddenly fell silent.
Perhaps... it wasn't impossible?
"I believe it's best if we scout the situation first. We don't even know their numbers."
"Agreed."
Garrett might have appeared casual, but he wasn't reckless. If they accidentally provoked an entire orc army, it would create enormous difficulties.
Quantity had a quality all its own, when numbers reached a certain threshold, even he would face serious challenges.
"Let's proceed."
Following the path the orcs had taken, the two used their cloaks for concealment and soon arrived at a noisy stronghold. Rather than a proper fortress, it was more like a makeshift camp constructed among the ruins of an ancient fortification. A relatively tough-looking orc chieftain with approximately 20 health points was commanding the group.
At present, numerous orcs were resting in the dank, dark camp. Occasionally, curses could be heard, it seemed some of the orcs had begun fighting amongst themselves.
"About a dozen wargs and over twenty orcs."
Gandalf quickly assessed the enemy forces.
"The concept of 'unity' has never existed among orcs," he said, indicating two orcs brawling in the distance. "They inevitably end up fighting over the most trivial matters. I believe we can provide them with a little encouragement, let them battle each other for a while and exhaust themselves..."
He picked up a small stone, whispered something over it, and plonk, threw it directly at an orc who was dozing.
"Who did that?!"
The orc beside him was startled by the outcry and sat up, immediately irritated. "What are you yelling for?!"
"Did you hit me?"
"What if I did?"
Smack!
The awakened orc threw a handful of pebbles, hitting the other orc squarely in the eyes with such force he couldn't keep them open.
"Filth!" the struck orc roared in fury and lunged at him.
The two orcs quickly began brawling in earnest.
This sort of thing was so common in an orc camp that it barely attracted attention, most of the nearby orcs simply watched as if enjoying entertainment.
And where there's conflict, there's always resolution.
Soon, one of them lay on the ground bruised and groaning, clearly not rising anytime soon.
"Pathetic." The victor naturally didn't forget to add some additional humiliation.
Glancing aside, Gandalf wore a mischievous grin, clearly, this wasn't his first time employing such tactics.
"I frequently use this method to incite them to fight among themselves. It reduces their strength without them even realizing."
"Clever strategy."
"My thanks."
Just as Gandalf was selecting his next target to foment additional infighting, Garrett suddenly rose from their hiding spot.
Gandalf froze and looked up at him.
"Too much trouble," Garrett said. "I think a direct assault would be faster."
Shing.
A longsword was drawn, radiating cold blue light.
"Intruders!"
ROAR!
With a shout of alarm, the orcs instantly mounted their wargs. Those without mounts seized their weapons and charged forward.
"Ah! Too reckless!" Realizing they could no longer remain concealed, Gandalf also stood, gripping his staff firmly.
"Aha, what do we have here, some filthy human with a cursed blade... and a wizard? Who granted you the audacity to set foot on my territory?!"
"Slay them!"
The orc chieftain raised his cleaver, and the wargs behind him surged forward.
Boom!
Garrett swept his sword in a devastating arc, intercepting three riders simultaneously. The dry fur of the wargs ignited instantly, and the orcs riding them screamed and leaped off in panic.
Behind him, Gandalf observed the flames. In an instant, the fire that had nearly been extinguished flared up violently, consuming nearby orcs who had ventured too close.
Garrett didn't even turn his head. He knew Gandalf bore Narya, the Ring of Fire, which could kindle both flame... and hope.
While he carved through enemies relentlessly, clad in black armor, charging into the orc horde beneath waves of attacks and leaving behind charred corpses, the remaining orcs began to panic.
Can't defeat him? Then perhaps I can flee from him.
Compared to him, the old man appeared to be an easier target.
An orc shrieked and charged at Gandalf, weapon raised high.
But Gandalf remained calm. Smoothly raising his staff, he thrust forward, and knocked the charging orc to the ground.
Without pause, he pivoted and swung his staff again, striking another orc with such force that it dented the crude armor. Even he appeared somewhat surprised by that impact.
This weapon is becoming easier to wield.
Though he fought with unexpected vigor, he remained far from Garrett's level. Soon, five or six orcs surrounded him, clearly considering him the vulnerable link and planning to eliminate him first as leverage.
But then he struck his staff against the ground, suddenly, a terrible flash split the sky above the camp. The scent of lightning filled the air, and several orcs collapsed dead instantly.