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Middle-earth Adventure Journal! - 1
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 16:01:50 +0000 UTCChapter 1: Changing the Fate of Becoming Food
Where am I?
Aedric blinked away the haze of unconsciousness. This definitely wasn't a hospital. Gray creatures moved around a campfire, arguing in harsh voices he somehow understood.
As his vision cleared, he caught more details that made his blood run cold. Squat, broad figures with flat noses and wide mouths full of yellowed fangs. Long arms that nearly reached the ground. Bow-legged stances and sallow, mottled skin.
"No way..." Aedric's voice was barely a whisper. "Those look exactly like..."
He'd read Tolkien countless times, seen the movies, and played the games. These creatures matched every description he'd ever encountered.
"Could it be that those gray, shabby creatures are orcs?" Aedric frowned, muttering to himself as his eyes darted around, taking in the primitive camp, the crude weapons, and the medieval setting.
"But that would mean..." He breathed the words barely above a whisper. "I've actually arrived in Middle-earth!"
Night had just fallen, with hazy moonlight hanging low among the treetops. Two groups of upright-walking, ugly creatures were shoving each other around a campfire.
One hunched figure with short legs, long arms, and skin resembling rotting bark raised his hand to wipe away drool, pointing at Aedric and shouting loudly: "Broken-tooth, we should chop him up and throw him in the pot to make thick, rich meat broth!"
"We're sick of that maggoty, moldy bread—now we want meat!"
Behind him clustered over a dozen followers.
Aedric was neither deaf nor blind. Taking a closer look, he recognized that the thing clamoring to eat him wasn't human. It was a Snaga—creatures from the lower ranks of the orc race that despised sunlight, preferred darkness, had broad diets, and when desperate enough, would even eat their own kind. According to legend, they were worthless beings that couldn't even beat hobbits in a fight.
"Grashk!" From the other side, a tall, broad-faced figure chimed in, shouting: "You'd better shut your mouth! The sorcerer's research needs materials. Bringing the human back intact will get us more meat and allow the sorcerer to contribute more to our master!"
Coincidentally, Aedric also recognized the large, dark figure speaking. They were Uruk-hai—an improved breed that the Dark Lord Sauron had developed during the Third Age. Stronger, smarter, and more obedient than Snaga, they were even capable of tolerating sunlight. By the end of the Third Age, they had been further enhanced by the industrial pioneer Saruman. Commonly called "strong orcs," these current ones were basically a budget version.
Though they numbered only four, they looked down on the more numerous Snaga with contemptuous gazes.
Now, these two groups of orcs had been arguing for half an hour over whether or not to stew Aedric, and they might come to blows at any moment.
Aedric scratched his head, feeling he should do something, or he'd be finished. Good luck: get stewed into soup. Bad luck: that damn sorcerer would probably take a knife to him for practice.
But what could he do to escape?
Aedric lowered his head and smiled bitterly. His hands were bound by crude shackles, trapped in a wooden cage where each bar was at least as thick as his wrist. Add to that the rough lock and black iron chains—this completely eliminated any possibility of breaking out by force.
Aedric couldn't understand why he was suffering like this. He had simply been taking a morning walk on the street, saw some thugs bullying a student, and stepped forward to stop them. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
Most of the time, when the thugs saw him—six feet tall with solid muscle—they'd mouth off for a bit and then choose to run. Occasionally when conflicts arose, the police would come and deal with the thugs according to law. As for Aedric, he'd just be doing good deeds and leave gracefully.
Today felt different, though. During the argument, the young leader suddenly pulled out a butterfly knife and stabbed directly at him. It was his first time encountering such a reckless fool, and Aedric hadn't reacted at all.
When he tried to dodge, his chest went cold. Before his adrenaline could surge, it retreated due to oxygen deprivation in his brain. Finally, his body went limp and collapsed. His consciousness fell into darkness amid a chorus of crying.
"Damn it, a sneak attack, huh? When I get out of the hospital, I'll beat the crap out of you!"
Then when he opened his eyes again, he was already in the cage. This change of scenery was rather hard to accept.
At first, Aedric suspected this was a dream—a hysterical fantasy before death. But after checking, he found his clothes unchanged, while the wound, blood, and butterfly knife had vanished. Dreams couldn't perfect such small details.
What karma!
"I've been doing good deeds my whole life—why couldn't I encounter someone nice like Bilbo Baggins? Opening my eyes to find myself captured by orcs—what's that about? And there's not even a golden finger!"
[Adventure Log is opening.]
[Common Westron has been added.]
[Physical condition restored to peak performance.]
[You have now arrived in Middle-earth. Please live to your fullest and write one adventure story after another that belongs to you.]
[Based on the excitement level of your stories, the log will provide rewards for you to choose from.]
[First Entry: Escaping the Cage.]
[Time: Some point during the Third Age. Location: Some region of Middle-earth.]
[On a dark and windy night, you open your eyes to find yourself trapped in a wooden cage, with a group of orcs nearby clamoring to eat you. What do you plan to do next...]
So suddenly?
Aedric blinked. "So this is my golden finger? And the reason I can understand what the orcs are saying? Do you have any other uses? Like producing a knife or opening locks?"
Faced with hopeful questioning, the log showed no reaction or response whatsoever.
"Still have to rely on myself!"
Slapping his forehead hard, amid the clanking of chains, Aedric's gaze passed through the cage bars to look at those orcs again, his eyes flickering with contemplative light.
Even without this golden finger, he wouldn't simply accept his fate so easily. Want to eat me? Choke on it!
The orcs' argument continued.
Grashk's face darkened as he said displeasedly: "Broken-tooth, don't forget—I'm the one who caught the human!"
The Uruk called Broken-tooth curled his lip. "So what? I'm in charge here now!"
Seeing the other's disdainful attitude, Grashk jumped up and down in anger, shouting: "If I'd known, I should have brought back a corpse!"
Broken-tooth lowered his head and responded: "You wouldn't dare, because you're afraid—afraid that when I find out, you'll become a corpse too. And I will definitely find out, because you're a chattering, gluttonous, lazy fool who wants to brag about every little thing."
Spraying saliva, his tall frame kept moving forward threateningly, baring his teeth: "Now, you worthless scum better lift that cage and follow us as we set out. Anyone who doesn't obey..." Broken-tooth's lips split into a grin, revealing incomplete, menacing fangs. "I'll tear them apart and stew them, throwing their bones to those four-legged creatures."
Grashk wanted to say something more but was intimidated by the other's terrifying gaze. His feet unconsciously retreated half a step.
Seeing their leader cowed, the other noisy Snaga also quieted down one by one. That's just how they were—when it came to real fighting, they could be fearless, but when intimidated, they were also very straightforward about backing down.
The scene suddenly became quiet.
This wouldn't do! Seeing the orcs' dispute about to end, Aedric's expression changed. He immediately lowered his head and began feeling around the cage.
In such a short time, he had actually thought of a method. To escape this situation, he needed to buy time. Even if it meant gnawing through the rope binding the wooden cage with his teeth, he had to keep the orcs arguing.
To make them continue arguing, he needed to provoke the disadvantaged Grashk into causing trouble for himself. Then, Broken-tooth, who considered himself the boss, would likely stop Grashk to maintain his own authority. This way, the conflict between both sides wouldn't end—it might even escalate!
Of course, if they were soldiers of other races, Aedric wouldn't use this trick, as they probably wouldn't fall for it. But they were orcs. They'd normally fight over something as trivial as stepping on each other's feet, let alone with someone egging them on from the sidelines.
As for whether it would work, he had to try. If he just kept waiting, surely no beautiful elf maiden would jump out of the forest to rescue him. What wishful thinking!
Soon, Aedric found two smooth stones on the ground. He crouched in the cage, aimed for three to five seconds, then threw one at Grashk with a "whoosh." Fearing he'd miss, he immediately threw the second one.
He wasn't Bilbo, who could take down several of Azog's bodyguards just by throwing stones. Throwing two would be safer.
Smack.
As if some divine spirit was truly watching, the first stone hit Grashk right in the side of his face.
"Who?" He cried out in surprise, turning to look.
At that moment, the second stone smoothly entered Grashk's open mouth, rolling toward his throat with a "gurgle."
"Cough, cough, cough—Ugh!" Grashk coughed painfully, crouching on the ground, gagging and spitting until he finally dislodged the stone.
Aedric smiled. For him, this was already performing beyond expectations. Now, let's see if the other side takes the bait.
"Damn creature!" Grashk roared angrily at the cage.
Aedric stared back provocatively, his chained hands clanking against the wooden bars as he loudly taunted: "Come on, you worthless piece of trash! Didn't you want to eat me? Come on!"
Grashk was furious. Veins symbolizing anger bulged back and forth on his forehead. More importantly, when he turned his head, he caught glimpses of his subordinates' expressions from the corner of his eye. Some disdainful, some thoughtful. Others were even sizing him up sideways, wearing strange smiles that suggested they planned to kill him and take his place.
Grashk was all too familiar with that expression—because that's how he had risen to power.
Remembering the poor wretch he had stabbed to death, Grashk's brow furrowed tightly. His murky eyes revealed ruthlessness and determination as his right hand gripped the knife handle so tightly his knuckles showed white.
The crisis of feeling like he had a target on his back, combined with erupting fury, burned away his fear of Broken-tooth along with what little rationality he had. He stepped toward the wooden cage.
While walking, he kept shouting to pump himself up: "Broken-tooth, I'm also a captain! I have the right to dispose of my own spoils!" With that, his left hand pulled out a key from his chest. "I'll just cut off one of his arms and throw it in the pot to stew; let the brothers taste some fresh meat."
Seeing the captain getting tough, the Snaga also noisily chimed in: "Yeah, missing one arm won't kill him!"
"Eat meat! I want meat!"
"Eat meat!"
Broken-tooth's expression instantly turned to rage. He rushed past the Snaga and caught up, roaring: "Damn stinking rat, you're challenging me! You're looking for death!"
Moving extremely fast, almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he reached Grashk's side. Sharp, hook-like claws grabbed Grashk's neck tightly. With a great shout, he threw him straight back.
Poor Grashk only had time for one scream before flying through the air. Then Broken-tooth turned back and glared fiercely at Aedric.
"Stay put!"
Aedric smiled fearlessly at Broken-tooth, showing his neat, white teeth.
Broken-tooth drew a short whip from his waist and began lashing through the wooden cage. His right hand instinctively tightened around the scimitar that could protect him. But the small key in his left hand flew from his grasp. With a gust of wind, it landed perfectly beside Broken-tooth, less than a meter from the wooden cage!
Something's not right! Originally, Aedric had been cheerfully using his chains to block the whip, but seeing this scene, his eyes immediately widened in disbelief as he looked around. He tried to spot something in the sky full of brilliant stars.
Middle-earth was a world with higher powers. It had gods. The one controlling wind was Manwë, King of Arda and Chief of the Valar. Legend said this fellow only needed to sit at his bedside to see everything happening on the planet.
Could it be that when he crossed over, this garden-watching big shot had noticed him? No way, right?
Aedric looked at the key with uncertainty. The key to freedom was right before his eyes—within reach! However, he couldn't act rashly yet. After all, more than a dozen pairs of eyes were watching in his direction, and Broken-tooth was nearby.
"Bang!" Sparks flew.
Perhaps Broken-tooth hadn't controlled his strength properly, or more likely it was intentional—Grashk was slammed hard into the campfire. The orcs scattered, dodging the flying sparks.
Grashk's clothes caught fire. The intense pain made him shriek: "The filth wants us dead! They'll gut us all and feast on our entrails! You maggots, take up your blades and spill their black blood!"
The piercing screams were like sparks falling into boiling oil. The Snaga drew their weapons one after another. Relying on superior numbers, they snarled with savage fury:
"You stinking dung-eaters—we'll carve you up!"
"Move and we'll spill your guts across the dirt!"
"We outnumber you, you rotting meat!"
The Uruk-hai also drew their blades. Watching a group of "worthless maggots," as they called the Snaga, challenge them, their faces darkened with murderous rage.
Aedric's heart was blooming with joy. There would be a good show to watch.
Broken-tooth snarled deeply, apparently not expecting these worthless maggots to dare resist. A savage bloodlust flashed in his eyes. He wheeled around and, with a guttural roar, strode toward the agitated Snaga. Then he raised his broadsword and hacked off two heads with savage efficiency.
In the blink of an eye, black ichor sprayed in arcing streams, and the reek of spilled entrails choked the air. All the Snaga and Uruk-hai witnessing this butchery froze in shock.
What savagery...!
Grashk's face twisted with vicious glee, then he reacted with predatory speed. He sprang up from the blood-soaked ground. While the others still gaped at the carnage, he drove his scimitar deep into an Uruk's kidney, grinding the blade viciously before ripping it free. His victim crumpled, gurgling blood.
The remaining two Uruk-hai bellowed with murderous rage and raised their weapons to slaughter. Several Snaga were immediately butchered. The other Snaga instinctively scrambled to flee, but Grashk's savage snarl stopped them: "Run and I'll gut you myself! We can still tear them apart—rip out their throats!"
Then they surrounded the remaining two Uruk-hai completely, even splitting off a few to block Broken-tooth.
"Gut the bastards!"
"Hack their legs!"
"Tear them apart!"
The Snaga snarled with bloodthirsty savagery, occasionally darting out from behind and the sides for vicious strikes. The two Uruk-hai kept getting wounded in the siege but still fought with murderous tenacity, trading blood for blood. Roaring "worthless maggots!" and "filthy scavengers!" they butchered several more attackers who had successfully ambushed them.
The scene instantly became a savage melee.
"Ha!" Evan excitedly grabbed the key, unlocked the iron lock, and crawled out of the cage. Just as he was about to sprint away, he stopped and lifted the iron chains with both hands to avoid making too much noise and attracting unwanted attention.
"Finally out." He crouched low, tiptoeing to the two headless corpses, and bent down to pick up a scimitar.
With the weapon in hand, his heart immediately felt much more at ease. In the current situation, nothing was more reassuring than having a weapon in hand.
"Got to get this thing off." Aedric looked at the shackles on his arms, his eyes shifting as he turned his gaze toward that extremely lively campfire.
If he wasn't mistaken, the key should be in Grashk's hands. He was the one who had discovered the unconscious Aedric during patrol and dragged him back to camp. He'd wanted to show off, then eat him—that's what led to the conflict with Broken-tooth.
He had to kill him. No—kill all the orcs!
Making this decision in his heart, Aedric lowered his body and carefully approached the battlefield.
At this moment, Broken-tooth was savagely hacking his scimitar as he charged into the melee, only to be blocked by three Snaga. His scarred face twisted with murderous fury as he bellowed: "Die, you worthless maggots!"
He raised his broad, heavy sword high and brought it down with bone-crushing force. As the blade fell, the Snaga charging at the front was split from skull to groin, his entrails spilling across the blood-soaked earth. Steaming black gore drenched Broken-tooth from head to toe. Illuminated by the flickering campfire, he looked like a demon crawled up from the deepest pits of hell.
The remaining two Snaga were so frightened they immediately stopped, their faces showing terror. Just like mice seeing a cat, they stood there dumbly, not knowing what to do.
Aedric had quietly approached. Seeing this scene, he knew these two fellows had been scared out of their wits.
Orcs were just like that. If they had a strong leader, they could also be bloodthirsty and warlike, rushing onto the battlefield regardless of everything to fight any enemy. It could be said that elves, men, and dwarves had all suffered at the hands of orcs.
However, once they lacked the restraint and inspiration of a powerful leader, they would become creatures with neither spirit of sacrifice nor courage against strong individuals. Specific manifestations included deserting in battle, standing by and watching when their leader fought one-on-one with enemies, fighting fiercely with their own kind over trivial matters, and acting absurdly with many bizarre behaviors ordinary people couldn't understand.
"Hmph, worthless." Broken-tooth didn't continue the slaughter. Instead, he spat and quickly passed between the two, rushing toward the battlefield. Probably planning to keep them as laborers to carry that now-empty cage, or more simply, as emergency rations.
"Kill!" The other two Uruk-hai saw their leader charging over and also shouted loudly, wielding their weapons and fighting hard to break through the encirclement, trying to regroup with Broken-tooth.
"Don't let them escape!" Grashk poked his head out from behind his companions, roared once, then quickly disappeared back into the shadows.
The Snaga swarmed forward, making the scene even more chaotic.
Aedric crept closer step by step, coming up behind those two Snaga. At this moment, they were crouching on the grass like quails, trembling, their attention completely absorbed by the battle around the campfire, completely unaware that someone was now standing behind them.
"They're orcs, Sauron's minions. They just wanted to stew me—killing them is perfectly justified!"
When the moment came, Aedric encouraged himself mentally. Previously, he hadn't even killed a chicken. Even fish he caught were handed over to cooks for preparation. Although he enjoyed playing with cold weapons, he had never harmed any living creature.
Facing the impending slaughter, his heart pounded loudly. His right hand gripped the knife handle tightly, his knuckles slightly white from the excessive force.
"I can do this!" Aedric took a light, deep breath, then suddenly swung his arm.
