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

Chapter 77 The Dignity of a Wanderer

"Huff...huff..." Iovia leaned against the wall, panting, his eyes filled with sorrow. The orcs had already launched more than a dozen attacks, but the defenders of Los Sannier had not even killed a quarter of their total number. Apart from the orc vanguard that was initially met with a barrage of fire from the Star Elves, the other orcs that launched feint attacks had suffered few casualties.

"How is the White Wing King?" Iovia turned to look at the guard beside her.

"The situation is not optimistic. Their knights have begun to suffer casualties..." The guard hesitated, then stopped. Even noble knights were dying on the battlefield, let alone the warriors and ordinary soldiers.

"How are the people of our tribe?" Iovia asked, her face dark.

"Your Highness, our situation is not optimistic. It is estimated that our soldiers will be unable to draw their bows after another wave of orc attacks!"

"Has it really come to this?" Iovia muttered to herself. The cunning Azog was an experienced opponent. It understood the cost of a direct assault on a city protected by an elven army. Therefore, it commanded its orcs to constantly wear down the elves' stamina and morale. But Iovia could not afford to be complacent. Once they showed a weakness, Azog's feint attack could easily turn into a main attack!

"Your Highness, do you not need me to take action?" Peter Gro said to Iovia, looking at Caslo raging above the western city wall.

“It’s not the final moment yet. I can’t use our trump cards to trade for the orcs’ ace… that would be too much of a loss.” After thinking for a moment, Iovia decisively rejected Peter Gro’s idea of ​​going into battle.

"Tell everyone to prepare for close combat!" The murderous intent in Iovia's eyes sent a chill down Peter Gro's spine.

"People often say that elves are not good at close combat... Heh, if we weren't good at close combat, how did we win the final alliance war? We just didn't want to sacrifice ourselves..." Iovia said sadly, looking at the elven archers and rangers around her who were wearing fine chainmail or post armor.

“Your Highness…” Peter Gro also closed his eyes in anguish. Only the elves who had experienced the devastating defeat at the Black Gate could understand this unforgettable pain and hatred.

“No need to say anything more, I will not leave... We never betrayed our allies back then, and we will never betray them now!” Iovia said firmly, looking at Peter Gros, whose eyes were showing signs of retreat.

"Bang! My sword will be aimed where you point, and my soul and body will fight for you to the very last moment! My king!" Peter Gros knelt on one knee and said solemnly.

"Rise," Iovia said calmly.

"Clang!" The sharp elven curved blade was slowly pulled out by Iovia.

"For our ancestors! For our faith! For our homeland! For our people! Noble Star Elves of Singri! We will never yield!" Iovia stood atop the city wall, her voice filled with tragic grandeur.

"Kill!" A hail of arrows rained down behind him once more...

……

"Have you made your decision?" Lord Lance gazed at his king.

“Yes! My allies are fighting hard! We can’t stand idly by, or we’ll be next!” Roland said firmly.

“Then…go ahead and take the plunge! I swear on my honor and my life that I will protect the peace of Swiftstream City until your return…whether I succeed or fail.” City Guard Officer Marcus bowed deeply, his words full of sincerity.

“That is also my answer, Your Highness,” Lord Lance said respectfully, kneeling on one knee.

"Then... what do you need to protect her, Your Excellency Marcus?" Roland said slowly.

“Dovenian heavy swordsmen, Lagrange city guards, Battanian archers, and conscripted light infantry—they're too few to be a problem defending the city, but in open field battles, they'd easily disrupt command,” Marcus said after a moment of contemplation. “Bang!” Lance pounded his chest.

"As a true Lagrange nobleman, I will lead my Swiftflow Legion to clear all obstacles in your path. Only death can end my promise to you!" Lance's eyes gleamed with loyalty.

"May the Dragon God bless you!" Roland concluded this somber topic.

"Renault... Assemble the Knights! Oh, and call Radil and Ivy too; they'll be useful in this war," Roland commanded, waving his hand.

Roland only plans to deploy the Swiftflow Legion and the Holy Knights to support Los Saint-Neil this time. Other troop types are too mixed and difficult to command on the vast battlefield.

Roland donned his fine gold armor, mounted his tall Shire warhorse, and stood quietly at the west gate of Swiftstream City, awaiting the assembly of the army behind him. His eyes gazed at the west bank with an indescribable gloom.

As the saying goes, man proposes, God disposes. Roland, who had planned to lie low on the east bank and hibernate, was completely defeated by nature. If he lost, it would truly be a case of the heavens being unkind! Can you imagine?! The Swiftflow River, so vast and so wide, was frozen solid by a cold front blowing from the north! Just last night! Upon hearing this news, the previously peaceful city of Swiftflow immediately went on the highest level of war alert. Marcus, in full armor, patrolled the city all night... The frozen Swiftflow River was like the goddess of victory taking off her underwear and beckoning to the orcs for Swiftflow City!

Come on! Come on! Come and attack me! Swiftstream City is now calling out to the orcs. Roland doesn't think he can stop Azog's army from turning back. The only option now is to take the initiative! Rather than waiting for the orcs to besiege the city, he might as well launch a surprise attack on the orcs, which would give him a better chance of winning!

……

"Huff... Huff... This is really tough!" Iovia breathed heavily, having just missed his first arrow aimed at an orc!

He aimed precisely at the eye socket, yet the arrow grazed the beast's neck. Iovia stared at her trembling hands and gave a weak, bitter smile. Even the Elven King, renowned for his archery precision, had missed; one could only imagine the intensity of the battle! Thanks to the elves' longevity, the 2000 elves, all professionally trained, were currently able to suppress the orcs. The continuous rain of arrows prevented the orcs from advancing, so the Star Elf army had not yet suffered any casualties.

"Roland! I can't hold him off any longer..." Iovia murmured bitterly to herself.

"Your Highness! The orcs are charging again!" a ranger exclaimed.

"Can you... still draw your bows?" Iovia asked bitterly, looking around.

"Your Highness! We will fight for you to the very end!" The elven ranger and archer, their arms trembling, drew their scimitars and short swords, demonstrating their loyalty with their actions.

"Fine, prepare for close combat!" Iovia was also getting a bit angry. Did they really think elves were so good-natured? Just wait! You orc scum, today I'll make you feel the fear of being dominated by the elven army 3000 years ago.

"Bang bang bang!" One after another, orcs stepped over the piles of corpses and crossed the moat. Hundreds of crude siege ladders were erected, and the orcs, as if welcoming the dawn of victory, swarmed up the ladders.

"For the honor of our elven rangers... Singri elves! Kill!" Iovia roared as she looked at the ugly orc heads emerging from the city walls.

A blue crescent moon appeared behind Iovia, and the next second! Blood erupted! Hunting Moon activated!

"Whoosh!" The elven ranger standing in front of the elven archer suddenly drew his curved sword from his waist in perfect unison.

As the rangers adjusted their arm movements, the exquisite scimitars began to dance, forming a neat wall of blades on the city of Los Santo Nie.

As they waved in unison—dawn broke!

(End of this chapter)