LOTR: The Mincraft Player

The people of Lake-town quickly returned to their homes and began packing up whatever belongings and provisions they could carry.

This time, no one was harmed or killed. Everyone was preparing in orderly fashion to evacuate and journey toward the promised sanctuary.

"This might be the beginning of a new life."

"Honestly, I don't feel anything different."

A townsman grumbled, "Almost all the wealth is in the hands of the Master. Other than having a house to live in, have we ever really had anything else?"

"If Bard hadn't been fighting for benefits, many of us wouldn't even have enough to eat."

"Exactly so."

"I heard that near the Lonely Mountain is the valley city where our ancestors lived. The people there were once prosperous and happy, the city thriving, I really wish I could experience that kind of life."

Listening to the townsfolk's discussion, Bard remained silent.

He thought of Thorin's royal promise, perhaps that pledge could be used to rebuild the people's former home and restore the glory of Dale.

Even without the invasion of the orc army, Lake-town wasn't really a great place to live.

After all, it was a floating city built in the middle of a lake. Due to limitations in materials and construction methods, and because it hadn't been properly maintained for years, Lake-town had been shrinking in size year after year. It could house fewer and fewer people, and sooner or later, it would require major renovation, either reconstruction or relocation. Trouble was inevitable.

If they could take this opportunity to move some of the townspeople to live on land, that would be a good thing.

---

While Lake-town was bustling with preparations... In the Woodland Realm, on the very same day, the elf messenger who had been sent out returned to the king's throne and gave a detailed report.

"Mount Gundabad..."

Thranduil muttered the name with a pained expression.

Why go to wander there? Don't they realize that place teems with orcs?

He let out a long sigh.

At least nothing had befallen them yet.

Knowing that Legolas was relatively safe, and accompanied by Tauriel, he finally continued asking, "Any other news?"

And with that question, things escalated.

The dragon had been slain by Garrett and another Man, and the dwarves had successfully reclaimed Erebor. Upon hearing this, he immediately felt the urge to dispatch troops to reclaim what rightfully belonged to his people. But then came even more significant news, tens of thousands of elite orcs were advancing.

He fell into deep thought.

Gandalf had mentioned this too, pleading for the Woodland Realm to send aid.

Erebor and Lake-town were very close to the Woodland Realm, even closer than Garrett's stronghold was to Bree. They were practically neighbors, close enough to visit within a day's journey.

If anything happened, no one could escape unscathed.

If the Lonely Mountain and the Dale region both fell, then the Woodland Realm would become truly isolated, surrounded on all sides by orcs and the spawn of Ungoliant.

Besides all these problems, there was one more thing, Legolas was still there. With his stubborn nature, there was no way he'd choose to flee. He would definitely be seen on the battlefield.

Unacceptable.

Thranduil immediately stood up and ordered his captain, "Prepare armor and weapons. Muster our finest warriors. We shall reclaim what is rightfully ours, and aid our allies."

"Allies?"

The captain looked puzzled, weren't they just dwarves?

"Garrett, Gandalf, and the Men of Lake-town. They will require assistance. As for the dwarves, if they're willing to return what belongs to us, and sincerely entreat our aid, then helping them isn't beyond consideration."

And so, an elite army of elves set out, carrying a large amount of aid supplies.

---

Far to the east of the Lonely Mountain, in the Iron Hills, Dáin Iron-foot listened to the news brought by a raven of Erebor, his weathered face grim.

"Looks like Thorin needs some help."

"All those whose axes have been bloodied by orc necks, come with me!"

The dwarves roared as they donned armor and prepared war-chariots, mounted their battle-rams and boars, and marched toward the Lonely Mountain.

This force was smaller in number than the elves, but far more seasoned in warfare.

The reason the Iron Hills bore that name was because the region was rich in iron deposits. However, other metal veins, especially gold and silver, were scarce.

They had more than enough weapons, armor, war-machines, and heavy crossbows, but if you asked them for coin, not a single piece could be squeezed out.

One could say, they had everything save money.

And so, two armies advanced toward the Lonely Mountain, one following the other.

---

Meanwhile, at the Lonely Mountain, Garrett surveyed the vast valley and the ruins of the ancient city, feeling like he was about to go grey from stress.

To build a defensive wall capable of real protection in this place was no small feat, not some minor project involving a few hundred thousand blocks. Even if he used lava and water, the amount of work involved was enough to make anyone's head spin.

But it wasn't a big problem, Garrett's resolve wouldn't falter.

Covering the entire battlefield with walls wasn't realistic, but building a single well-defended stronghold was certainly doable.

It was time for the orcs to learn what a "Wall of Despair" really meant.

In a few days, he wouldn't be able to build a massive, multi-layered fortress, but a single ring of effective defenses was within reach.

Standing atop the ruins of Dale, he attempted to claim the area as his own territory, but a notification quickly appeared:

[Claim Failed]

"It already has an owner?"

He couldn't claim lands or structures that were already owned or occupied, just like the various settlements and faction strongholds he'd encountered so far. Those were all considered someone else's "territory."

Of course!

He smacked his forehead.

Although Dale had been destroyed and reduced to ruins, its rightful heir, Bard, was still alive. He possessed the world-recognized legal inheritance to Dale.

"Bard... luckily, it's Bard."

If it were Bard, all Garrett would need to say was, "You don't want to see the townspeople suffer, do you?"

And Bard would certainly relinquish territorial control. But that would have to wait until he arrived.

For now... With lava bucket in his left hand and water bucket in his right, and an inventory full of materials, Garrett began constructing the wall. While building, he would occasionally return to the Lonely Mountain to request the dwarves help smelt additional lava.

---

"What do you require so much lava for?"

In the great forge, Dwalin wiped sweat from his brow as he operated the mining cart system, dumping stone and slag into the massive furnace with thunderous rumbles.

"It's for a marvelous contraption I'll need in a few days."

"A few days? Don't tell me you plan to incinerate the orcs with this lava. With all respect, even if they're not the sharpest tools in the armory, they're not foolish enough to leap in voluntarily."

"No worries. Just keep smelting, it'll be useful," Garrett replied, then asked, "By the way, where's your mineral storage? I might need to use some."

"Minerals, eh... You'll need to consult Balin or Thorin. They know the layout better than anyone."

---

"Minerals?"

Before the royal throne, Thorin pondered for a moment.

"I can escort you there. Are you planning to forge something?"

"Yes, something for dealing with the orc army in a few days."

Thorin nodded and added, "If you require assistance, I can lend my expertise. Though I've wandered for many years, I've never allowed my smithing skills to grow rusty."

"No need, I'll handle it myself. I just need to know... do you have enough mineral reserves? I'll probably need a lot of iron, and a fair amount of gunpowder."

That question made Thorin chuckle heartily.

"Garrett, you may not realize it, but even though Erebor was occupied for over a century, none of its mineral or metal reserves were ever disturbed. If you possess the skill, there's enough here to forge thousands of suits of iron armor. It's merely a bit of ore. Take whatever you require, that's my royal word."

What a joke.

One person, just a few days, could he possibly exhaust the entire Lonely Mountain's reserves?