The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth.

Chapter 13 Mountain Giants
"Full speed ahead! We've fallen behind them by a day!" Roland urged.

“My lord, there’s really no need to worry too much. They don’t have horses, and we’re much faster than them,” Caslo reassured Roland.

As a result, he was met with stares of disbelief from the crowd. Caslo followed their gaze and saw... 200 fully armed Swift Infantrymen, carrying guns and shields, were hurrying along with their heads down.

"Fine! Never mind!" Caslo said helplessly.

Incidentally, the Swiftstream Infantry got their name not only from the fact that they were recruited from the Swiftstream River region, but also because they were trained quickly, physically strong, and had great endurance. Long-distance raids were their specialty, but that didn't mean they could match the speed of cavalry.

Carlos: I feel offended.

A thunderous boom echoed from the sky, and a silver snake coiled in the air.

"It's going to pour!" Renault said gravely.

"Perhaps everyone needs to take shelter from the rain and rest for a while." Roland looked at the sky.

"Whoosh~ Boom!" Suddenly, a huge rock fell from the sky and landed heavily not far from Roland and the others. The group quickly raised their shields to block the flying debris.

"Attack! Alert!" Caslo was the first to react.

"Holy crap! Look up!" Roland glanced up at the valley beside him without thinking, and then his whole body split open.

"Mountain Giant!"

"Run!" Renault shouted.

Everyone immediately wished they had two more legs and ran desperately towards the outside of the valley.

"Damn it, how could there be mountain giants here? Weren't mountain giants extinct?" Caslo said in a disheveled manner, rainwater mixed with dust turning into mud that flowed down his body.

"Who the hell knew! That's outrageous!" Renault exclaimed in frustration.

"Are the Mountain Giants on the evil side or the lawful side?" Roland couldn't help but ask.

"The middle-force faction! Those barbarians are only content with their own little lives. Logically speaking, they should have been wiped out in the First Era!" Renault asked, puzzled.

"Perhaps they are survivors." Caslo glanced back at the noisy valley behind him with lingering fear.

"If I'm not mistaken, were they playing around with the hilltop?" Roland asked curiously.

“Yeah, those barbarians really love throwing stones during thunderstorms. We were so lucky…” Renault sighed.

Wait! Roland was stunned. Were these the stone giants who played with throwing stones in The Hobbit 1? Roland had just glanced at them and estimated that these mountain giants were at least 50 meters tall. Every move they made exuded a sense of world destruction... It was terrifying. Just thinking about how they had just passed right by them made Roland break out in a cold sweat.

“My lord, we cannot proceed…” Renault frowned.

“It is indeed too dangerous. Don’t worry, I will not disregard the lives of my people. The Lagrange Empire is still waiting for my revival. After all, I am the last Lagrange Lord.” Roland nodded in affirmation of Renault’s thoughts.

"Let everyone rest. Stay alert. We're already in the Misty Mountains, and the orcs could attack at any moment!" Roland instructed.

“Yes, sir!” Renault turned and left.

Caslo had already set up the tent, and he quickly took Roland back inside to prevent him from getting wet and cold.

"My lord, which way should we go today?" Caslo asked.

"Let's see if the stone giants have left by tomorrow. If they're still playing there, we'll have to take a detour, since we can't defeat them." Roland's head ached just thinking about those rocky lumps.

Lying in bed, Roland tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It seemed this world differed somewhat from the original novels, the movies, and the games. Perhaps because there were no players, Middle-earth, which was supposed to be part of the Lord of the Rings game universe, had become a hybrid of the original stories and reality, resulting in a strange, incongruous world. "God, have pity on me! Please don't let things go wrong! Please, please, don't let the Battle of the Five Armies go awry," Roland prayed.

He clearly sensed that his joining the fray had led to an increase in the number of orc pursuers, and that the enemy's forces in this five-army battle might be greater than he had anticipated.

“Perhaps it’s because I changed history and touched on an important timeline,” Roland pondered.

"We can't travel with them anymore!" Roland suddenly sat up.

"It's time to change things. Since we can't reverse history, let's change it! I will arrive on the battlefield as reinforcements! Let this war become a war between six armies." Roland made up his mind.

"Go to sleep, go to sleep! My life is more important. I should have known better than to run out in the middle of the night. Rivendell is so much better, with all those beautiful elf ladies," Roland said regretfully.

After all, he hadn't stayed in Rivendell for long, hadn't had a chance to explore the town, experience its culture, or even have some fun with the pretty elf ladies...

"Alas! What a pity! What a regret!" Roland lamented. Now, thinking about it, what did Thorin and the others have to do with him? He simply wanted to find some reliable allies and make a little money on the side... Besides, that Ironfoot Dain was an honest man; letting him become the King of the Mountain, like in history, wouldn't be bad. Bard the Dragon Slayer was also a friend worth making; the Vale Kingdom he had restored had some war potential.

Roland planned to first build a city in the Swift River basin to establish the framework of the Lagrange Kingdom, which should allow him to reap another wave of system rewards. Roland's little devil tail wagged with excitement at the thought of the system rewards.

"Time is running out... I estimate we won't be able to muster 1000 men before the war begins," Roland said with a hint of regret after doing some calculations.

"The Ring, the Ring! We don't need a thousand men, let's just ask for another 100 Swift Footmen, so we can at least make up the 300 men needed for the Swift Formation." Roland muttered to the Ring in his hand.

……

at the same time.

"Gandalf! Think of something!" The group, chased up the pine tree by the dire wolves, looked anxiously at Gandalf.

An obscure incantation rang out, and a six-pointed star magic circle formed in front of Gandalf.

"Go!" Gandalf opened his eyes, waved his staff, and dozens of fireballs the size of human heads flew out from the six-pointed star, instantly turning more than a thousand square meters of land in front of him, as well as the orcs and dire wolves on it, into scorched earth.

"Well done, Gandalf!" the crowd exclaimed happily, as a high-level spell—Meteor Shower—gave them confidence and assurance.

“Um, gentlemen, I think we can wait before we cheer…it seems those orcs ahead don’t want us to be too happy…” Bilber stammered.

"Oh! By the god of forging!"

"My God..."

Under the starry sky, a dark mass of orc wolf riders surrounded them, led by the pale orc Azog!
"Impossible!" Thorin was stunned for a moment.

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

"Fire Mark!" Gandalf, just like in history, began a perplexing operation—igniting a pine cone with fire.

The crowd lit the pine cones in their hands and threw them at Azog and the other orcs.

"Roar!" Seeing the dire wolf hesitant to advance due to the flames, Azog roared angrily.

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(End of this chapter)