LOTR: The Mincraft Player

Aside from the various multi-block structures, Garrett also noticed two familiar items in his crafting interface.

The Dwarven Wind Lance and the Black Arrow.

The former could be assembled simply by crafting its various components, while the latter required a more complex forging process and considerable experience to create.

Moreover, the Black Arrow came with a built-in Loyalty enchantment, which confirmed the legends about it, it would always return to its master's hand, no matter where it was thrown. Additionally, it possessed a special effect against dragon-type creatures, with innate armor-piercing capabilities.

The items unlocked from Erebor were numerous, and among them, he spotted something that made his pulse quicken: mechanical gears.

These could replace some functions of redstone and enable a degree of automation.

For instance, many dwarven gates employed this technology. Like the secret passage where Smaug had met his doom, pulling the lever would raise the massive iron portcullis, which stood seven or eight meters tall.

Looks like after returning this time, many facilities in his territory could be upgraded.

"I found it!"

Near the treasury vaults, he heard a familiar voice.

Bilbo, it was he who had first discovered the Arkenstone and presented it to Thorin, whose gaze became instantly transfixed upon the gem, unable to resist taking the luminous, exquisite jewel from Bilbo's hands and staring at it intently.

"Ah... the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone, so beautiful..."

"My precious..."

The king murmured.

That word "precious" made Bilbo's breath catch. A dark shadow flickered through his mind, leaving him momentarily breathless.

---

Thud!

At Dol Guldur, a colossal phantom eye atop a ruined tower suddenly turned its baleful gaze northward.

"I sense it... its presence calls to me!"

"Go forth, retrieve it!"

Sauron summoned the Nine Nazgûl, issuing his dire command.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Suddenly, a voice echoed from behind.

The massive eye turned to behold three figures slowly ascending the ancient stairs, approaching the dark tower.

Lord Elrond of Rivendell, Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien, and Saruman the White of Isengard.

Just standing there, the three exuded a tremendous sense of threat that made Sauron's eye waver and tremble.

"Accursed Eldar," he snarled.

Before Sauron could speak further, an orc chieftain below led a squadron of soldiers to surround the intruders.

"If you do not wish to be utterly destroyed, depart now," Galadriel warned with serene authority.

"Hahaha, then let us see who shall be destroyed!"

With a bestial roar, the orc chieftain charged first.

Galadriel raised her hand.

BOOM!

A wave of immense power erupted, shaking the sky. The force was so vast that even the thick, malevolent clouds overhead rippled outward in concentric rings of light.

The charging orc chieftain and his entire squadron were instantly reduced to dust by the overwhelming might, nothing remained, not even fragments of their armor.

Lady Galadriel never spoke idle threats. When she promised destruction, she meant it in the most absolute sense.

None spared even a glance for the obliterated orcs.

The Nine Nazgûl emerged from the shadow-realm and engaged the three members of the White Council, unleashing dark sorcery and psychic assaults, but all were neutralized, failing to inflict any meaningful harm.

Soon, the Ringwraiths' forms were shattered and forced to return to Sauron, where they revived once more.

"You cannot destroy me! I am eternal!"

Sauron unleashed his full malice, and darkness immediately engulfed all of Dol Guldur, enveloping everyone within. The presence was suffocating. Even Radagast, waiting safely outside, felt instinctive terror at the overwhelming malevolence.

But the one most deeply affected was Saruman. Eyes wide with barely concealed hunger, he felt the matchless power surging through the air, and his heart was anything but calm.

That... is precisely what I desire...

The darkness consumed all light, plunging everything into shadow and despair. But soon, another kind of radiance rose from Galadriel, so brilliant it briefly outshone even her own inner light, making her appear both divine and terrible in her wrath.

It was the starlight of Eärendil, whose source was one of the holy Silmarils.

The light of a Silmaril was the natural bane of all darkness, and Sauron's might was instantly suppressed, preventing him from manifesting his full power.

This battle ended in Sauron's defeat. He was forced to retreat to his fortress, the shadow-shrouded realm of Mordor.

For a long time, he would be unable to step outside its borders.

---

Unaware of its true master's weakened state, the One Ring continued its insidious whispers to the hobbit who bore it.

"Here, Bilbo, I brought some milk, would you care for a cup?"

"Thank you, Garrett. I am rather thirsty."

Gulp gulp gulp.

Bilbo accepted the cup without a second thought and drank the milk in one go, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"I feel much better now, more clear-headed. Ah, it seems milk truly is nourishing. Perhaps I should drink a cup daily."

"As long as you feel better," Garrett nodded, observing the resilient little hobbit. Then, he added casually, "After this… would you like to visit my stronghold?"

"I have several projects and ideas that could use your assistance. Don't worry, nothing dangerous, just some quite simple tasks. I have a few experiments and ideas that need your help. Don't worry, it won't hurt, just some very simple things."

"Certainly! I'd be delighted to visit your home," Bilbo replied without hesitation, not even questioning what kind of "projects" Garrett had in mind. This hobbit didn't consider that anything unpleasant might be involved at all.

"Thorin, it's time to summon reinforcements."

Finishing his conversation with Bilbo, Garrett turned and interrupted Thorin, who remained mesmerized by the Arkenstone's radiance, pulling him back to reality.

Thorin paused, then nodded reluctantly.

"Aye, you speak truly."

---

Moments later, at the Front Gate of the Lonely Mountain, a jet-black raven with distinctive markings took flight from Thorin's outstretched hand, flapping its wings toward the Iron Hills.

"A raven of Erebor,"

Seeing Garrett's curiosity, Balin stepped forward to explain, "They're long-lived creatures with a touch of ancient wisdom. They can understand our speech. The dwarves of Erebor once raised a few specifically for delivering messages. That one that just flew off must be several hundred years old, older than me."

He stroked his white beard, marveling at the passage of time.

"After all these long years... we've finally set foot upon this sacred ground again. Returned to our ancestral home."

"But..."

He glanced at Thorin, who still hadn't let go of the Arkenstone since the beginning, worry clearly written in his eyes.

"I just hope we don't repeat the same mistakes of the past."

"You won't."

"I hope you're right."

"I also hope so," Garrett said, adjusting his elytra. Then he turned to Balin, "You all stay here and prepare. I have some things to take care of. I'll be back soon."

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly jumped onto the wall, stretching and scanning the land beyond.

"The stairs are just over there," Balin helpfully pointed out.

"I know."

Whoosh.

Garrett jumped off the wall, causing an uproar. The dwarves rushed to the edge, peering down in shock.

ZOOM.

The next moment, with a burst like a firework igniting, they all looked skyward to see Garrett soaring high above, causing another round of gasps and exclamations.

"Are those... wings? I want to try that," Bombur said, staring wide-eyed at the rapidly diminishing figure.

Bofur glanced at Bombur's perfectly rotund form and offered a diplomatically complex expression.

"...Perhaps not. For everyone's safety."