"Estel."
In a sun-dappled clearing within Rivendell's peaceful grounds, Elrond's voice carried the weight of ages as he called to the young man who struck at practice targets with fierce determination. Aragorn's sword whistled through the air, each swing precise and powerful, sweat glistening on his brow despite the cool morning air.
"Do you know that throughout the long tapestry of history, there have been warriors whose very names became legends? Elven lords and human kings whose achievements tower above all others, whose names alone could freeze the blood of their enemies when whispered on the battlefield?"
Aragorn lowered his blade, chest heaving as he turned to face his foster father with rapt attention.
"Among them stands a name that should resonate in your very soul. Ecthelion of the Fountain." Elrond's voice took on a reverent tone. "In the ancient days, when darkness threatened to swallow all light, he was a lord among the Eldar whose courage knew no bounds. In battles that we elves speak of only in hushed tones, he personally slew two orc chieftains in single combat and faced down three Balrogs with nothing but steel and indomitable will."
The morning breeze stirred the leaves above them as Elrond continued, "His name has echoed through the ages, passed down as a sacred battle cry. When elven warriors charge into hopeless odds, they cry his name and feel his strength flow through their veins."
"When you face the darkness that will surely come, young Estel, you too can invoke this hallowed name. Let it ring from your lips, and watch as even the bravest orcs feel ice creep into their hearts."
Aragorn absorbed every word, his young face grave with understanding. "I'll engrave it upon my memory forever."
Yet as he spoke, something flickered across his features. A moment's hesitation, as if wrestling with unspoken thoughts.
"What troubles you, my son? Speak freely."
The young Dúnadan shifted his weight, choosing his words carefully. "If the power lies in names that strike fear into orc hearts... could I not call upon others who possess that same terrible reputation?"
Elrond smiled with paternal warmth. "Of course. Any name that carries such weight would serve."
Curiosity sparked in the elf lord's ancient eyes. "Tell me, who is this figure that commands your thoughts?"
"Levi Stonecraft."
The single name hung in the air between them like a stone dropped into still water.
"Levi!"
Bard's voice cracked like a whip as he carved through a writhing mass of goblins, his blade singing its deadly song. Gore splattered across his face as he fought his way to the cave entrance, where his lord stood like an immovable pillar of destruction.
"By all that's sacred, promise me you'll speak with me before charging headlong into battle next time!"
His words came between ragged breaths as he dispatched another snarling goblin that had foolishly tried to flank him. The improvised assault had been more chaotic than a tavern brawl and less organized than a street fight.
"Even the simplest war machines know to switch tactics when the situation demands it. But you?" Bard gestured wildly with his bloodied sword. "You just pointed at the enemy and charged like a maddened bull!"
Despite his exasperated tone, Bard couldn't deny the results as he surveyed the battlefield behind him. Where veteran soldiers had expected to guide nervous recruits through their first taste of combat, instead he watched in amazement as fresh-faced fighters adapted with startling speed to the rhythm of war.
"Miraculous doesn't even begin to describe it," he muttered, wiping sweat and goblin blood from his brow. "We just hurled ourselves into that chaos, and not one of our people has fallen."
The truth was undeniable. Levi had become something like a weapon of pure terror. Hurl him at the enemy line and watch their formation crumble like sandcastles before the tide.
"Of course none fell, and none will," Levi replied without turning, his eyes scanning the battlefield with predatory focus. "I've been watching everything."
The words hit Bard like cold water. Now he understood. After that wild charge, Levi hadn't pressed deeper into the caves. Instead, he'd positioned himself as guardian and observer, ready to intervene the moment any of his people faced mortal danger.
Tactically speaking, it was perhaps not entirely mad after all.
"That still doesn't make it right," Bard insisted, though his anger was cooling. "After we return, you're attending strategy lessons. I'll find the finest military minds to teach you proper..."
Levi's expression shifted to something approaching panic.
"The wind seems to be picking up," he said, glancing meaningfully at the sky.
"You can't just..."
"Levi!"
Thorin's booming voice interrupted as the Dwarf King approached, his eyes blazing with battle-joy. "Magnificent! You fight with more fury than the most berserker dwarf I've ever witnessed!"
And with less sense than the most reckless one, he added silently.
Seeing salvation in the form of his dwarven ally, Levi quickly pivoted toward the newcomer. "You showed equal valor, my friend."
The goblin tide had been stemmed. What few creatures had survived the initial onslaught now cowered deeper in their mountain warren, while scattered corpses littered the wide road like grotesque trophies. Each soldier bore goblin blood on their weapons. Their first taste of true battle was complete.
"They've retreated into the depths," Bard observed, studying the restless shadows that danced within the mountain's mouth. "Now comes the real test."
"Our moment has arrived," Thorin declared, advancing with his kinsmen arrayed behind him like a parade of armored determination.
Beyond the handful of wider passages, Goblin-town twisted through the mountain's heart in a maze of cramped tunnels, low ceilings, and treacherous footing. These warrens had never been designed for human soldiers to fight in formation.
Military tactics and strategy became critical in such confines. If the defenders had been dwarves instead of goblins, this army would face a grinding nightmare of narrow passages and deadly ambushes. Few would emerge alive from such a meat grinder.
But they faced goblins.
"No matter how vicious they might be in these cramped spaces, they're still just goblins," Dwalin growled, hefting his twin axes with eager anticipation. "A dozen of us once carved our way through these very tunnels and emerged victorious. Now we have 3,500 warriors at our backs."
Of course, his boast conveniently omitted the rather significant contributions of both Levi and Gandalf during that previous expedition.
Before the yawning cave mouth, the war council reached its swift conclusion.
"Goblin minds work like rusted clockwork. Simple, predictable," one of the dwarven guides observed. "Their tunnel system might be a labyrinth carved over centuries, but the layout follows no clever design. We've seen their handiwork before."
"Fire, smoke, water. One of these will flush them out like rats from a granary."
No respite would be granted to let the goblins regroup or gather their courage.
The elite army advanced into Goblin-town's maw like an inexorable tide.
Considering the forces arrayed here, this expedition bordered on absolute overkill. Beyond the superior equipment, the commanders and lieutenants leading this assault represented some of the most experienced warriors in all of Middle-earth. Each could have led independent campaigns if circumstances demanded.
The quality gap between the forces was a chasm.
Their opponents had already lost their leadership to a single well-placed arrow.
What followed would be either complete extermination or a desperate, scattered flight into the wilderness.
The outcome had been decided before the first sword was drawn.
This ancient stronghold of murder and banditry, which had terrorized travelers and plundered human settlements for generations untold, would meet its final hour today.
Deep beneath the mountain, in chambers that had never known sunlight, a thunderous impact shook stone and earth. Ancient eyes snapped open in the darkness.
"What makes such noise, gollum..."
Skeletal fingers instinctively searched his emaciated form but found only emptiness where his most precious treasure once rested.
"Not dreaming, no, not dreaming. My precious, stolen, gone forever, Gollum... curse that filthy thief..."
His muttering ceased as unfamiliar scents drifted through the stagnant air. Iron and flame, blood and burning flesh. The acrid smell of violence.
"Strange smells in our tunnels, Gollum... blood and fire... what do those worthless, skinny goblins do now?"
Splash, splash.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the passages, far too weighty to belong to any goblin. Gollum's bulbous eyes widened in the gloom as every instinct screamed danger.
"We must see, yes, see what disturbs our rest."
Thud.
Several goblin corpses tumbled into his hidden sanctuary, their lifeless forms crashing onto the rocky shore. Gollum jerked backward, pressing himself against the stone walls like a terrified animal.
"Food from the ceiling, Gollum? No, no, something's wrong..."
Rather than investigate immediately, the wretched creature remained frozen behind his rocky shelter, watching and listening with the patience of a predator who had learned that curiosity could be fatal.
Soon, voices drifted down from above.
"Exactly as our lord predicted. Natural caverns extend throughout the mountain's heart."
"How does he know such things? Can he see through solid stone?"
"Focus on your duties. Stay alert and report what you find."
"Area secured. No survivors detected."
The advance scouts completed their sweep with professional efficiency, calling the all-clear to those who followed.
Silence settled over the hidden grotto once more.
Just as Gollum began to relax, convinced the danger had passed, a lone figure descended into his sanctuary.
The moment those eyes fell upon the intruder, Gollum felt his very soul recoil. His breath caught in his throat, and every fiber of his being urged him to flee or hide deeper in the shadows.
"Something watches from the darkness..."
Levi's gaze swept the cavern methodically before settling on the ceiling, where a single bat clung to the stone.
Moving to the water's edge, he smoothly drew his bow and sent an arrow through the creature's heart in one fluid motion.
Middle-earth's bats carry the taint of shadow and malice.
They serve as spies for darker powers. It's best to eliminate them wherever they're found.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Gollum pressed both hands to his chest, trying to muffle the thunderous beating of his heart. He dared not draw breath until long minutes had passed after the terrifying figure departed.
"Cannot stay in this place, no, no, too dangerous, gollum..."
"Where can we go?" his pitiful voice whispered.
"Anywhere but here," came the answer from the same twisted lips. "Should have left ages ago, yes. Must find that thief, that nasty creature who stole our precious Gollum."
"Should have hunted him down already, yes. Find that hobbit, that Baggins..."
In the year T.A. 2944, driven by terror of Dale's conquering army and consuming hunger for his lost Ring, Gollum finally conquered his ancient fear of sunlight and the world beyond his mountain prison, beginning the hunt that would reshape the fate of Middle-earth.