"Full speed ahead! We've already put a whole day between us and them!" Roland urged.
"Boss, chill. No need to freak out. They don't have horses; we're way faster than them," Castor tried to calm Roland down.
That got everyone staring at Castor like he was nuts. Following their gaze, Castor saw it too… 200 fully geared Swift Infantry slogging along, guns in hand, shields on their backs, huffing and puffing like it was a marathon.
"Alright! Forget I said anything!" Castor muttered helplessly.
Quick note: Swift Infantry aren't called that just 'cause they're recruited from the Swift River area—they're trained to be fast, tough, and with crazy endurance. Long marches are their jam, but they ain't winning any horse races.
Carlos: feels personally offended.
"Boom~" A thunderclap ripped through the sky, the silver snake lightning twisting overhead.
"Storm's coming!" Reno said grimly.
"Maybe we should find shelter and rest for a bit," Roland glanced up at the sky.
"Phew—boom!" Suddenly a huge boulder crashed down nearby, sending rocks flying.
"Attack! Shields up!" Castor was first to react.
"Shit! Look up!" Roland glanced at the valley beside them, then his whole face went pale.
"Mountain Giants!"
"Run!" Reno yelled.
Everyone suddenly wished they'd been born with four legs, sprinting their asses toward the valley exit.
"What the hell? Mountain Giants? Aren't those extinct?" Castor grumbled, rain and dirt mixing into muddy water running down him.
"Who the hell knows! This is straight-up crazy!" Reno freaked out.
"Wait, are Mountain Giants evil or lawful?" Roland asked, genuinely curious.
"Neutral, mostly. Those barbarians just wanna live their simple lives. They should've died out in the First Age, though," Reno scratched his head.
"Maybe some survivors," Castor nervously glanced at the noisy valley behind them.
"If I'm not crazy, they were tossing rocks around?" Roland asked.
"Yeah, those barbarians love chucking stones when it storms. We're hella lucky…" Reno sighed.
Wait—Roland froze. These are those stone giants from Hobbit 1, right? Roland looked again; these Mountain Giants must be at least 50 meters tall. Every move they made felt like the world was about to end… Freaking terrifying. They'd literally just passed right by them—Roland started sweating cold.
"Boss, we can't keep moving…" Reno frowned.
"Too risky. Don't worry, I won't throw my people away. The Lagran Empire still needs its revival—after all, I'm the last Lagran lord," Roland nodded, agreeing with Reno.
"Let's rest up, stay alert. We're deep in the Misty Mountains now, orcs could strike anytime!" Roland ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Reno turned and left.
Castor set up the tent and quickly dragged Roland inside to keep him dry.
"Boss, what's the plan for tomorrow?"
"Check if the giants have left. If they're still playing rock-throwing, we gotta detour. We can't beat those rock monsters," Roland grimaced.
Lying in bed, Roland tossed and turned. This world's kinda different from the books, movies, and games. Maybe without players, Middle-earth from the Lord of the Rings game and the original story got mashed into some weird hybrid.
"Gods above, have mercy. Please don't mess up the Battle of Five Armies," Roland prayed.
He clearly felt his joining stirred up more orc pursuers. Maybe the enemy force this time is bigger than he expected.
"Maybe 'cause I changed history, messed with the timeline," Roland thought.
"Can't travel with them anymore!" He suddenly sat up.
"Gotta change things. If I can't undo history, I'll rewrite it! I'll show up as reinforcements! Let's make it the Battle of Six Armies!" Roland decided.
"Sleep, damn it. Gotta keep my life, shouldn't be wandering at midnight. Rivendell was way nicer, and those elf ladies were hot," Roland grumbled.
He hadn't even had time to explore Rivendell properly, soak in the vibes, or maybe have some fun with the pretty elf girls…
"Ah, what a shame! What a regret!" Roland moaned. Thinking back, Thorin and the others have nothing to do with him; he just wanted solid allies and maybe some coin. That Ironfoot Dain dude's a straight shooter—making him King under the Mountain like history ain't bad. Bard the dragon slayer's a solid friend, his rebuilt valley has some military muscle.
Roland planned to build a city in the Swift River region first, laying the groundwork for the Lagran Kingdom. Should snag some system rewards too. Just thinking about those rewards made his evil little demon tail wag.
"Not much time… won't hit a thousand troops before the war starts," Roland sighed.
"Lord of the Rings, oh Lord of the Rings! Don't ask for a thousand, just gimme another hundred Swift Infantry, at least get my Swift battle formation up to 300!" Roland muttered, staring at the ring.
…
Meanwhile…
"Gandalf! Think of something!" The group on the pine tree, chased by wargs, desperately looked at Gandalf.
Mumbled incantations sounded; a hexagram appeared before Gandalf.
"Go!" Gandalf opened his eyes and waved his staff. Dozens of human-head-sized fireballs shot out, burning a thousand square meters of ground and frying orcs and wargs alike.
"Nice! Way to go, Gandalf!" everyone cheered. A high-level spell like Meteor Shower really boosted morale.
"Uh, guys, maybe hold off the cheers for a sec… those orcs don't want us happy," Bilbo stammered.
"Oh crap! Forge god above!"
"Oh no…"
Under the stars, a dark mass of orc wolf-riders surrounded them, led by the pale orc Azog!
"No way!" Thorin froze.
"That's mine! Kill every last one!" Azog roared.
"Fire mark!" Gandalf started the classic human confused move—setting the pine tree on fire.
Everyone lit their pine torches and hurled them at Azog and his crew.
"Grrr!" The wargs snarled, blocked by flames and hesitating to charge. Azog roared furiously.
---
If you want to read advanced chapters
and support me you can join my pat-reo-n
patr eon.com/Aspiring_Immortal (remove the blank space)