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Middle-earth Adventure Journal! - 2
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 16:01:55 +0000 UTCChapter 2: An Unexpected Guest Suddenly Appears
Whoosh.
The blade sliced through the air, followed by a body dropping to the ground with a wet thud. The unusual sound made the other Snaga turn his head, only to see the blade growing larger and larger in his vision.
Just as he opened his mouth to shriek a warning, searing agony erupted in his chest. His head lolled sideways, his body crumpled, and he became the second corpse.
"Whew." Aedric looked at the dead orcs and let out a long breath. Surprisingly, he didn't feel sick. Instead, the adrenaline surge made him somewhat excited, causing his knife-wielding hand to tremble with anticipation.
"Could it be that I'm naturally suited for the battlefield?"
When making the first cut, he still felt somewhat awkward, but by the second strike he was much more composed. Faster, more precise, more deadly—he had dispatched two Snaga with exceptional efficiency.
"Was I this capable when I was young?" A flash of excitement crossed Aedric's heart as he immediately looked toward the battlefield by the campfire. The orcs were still fighting savagely, with no one paying attention to what had happened a few meters away.
Two Uruk-hai wielded their weapons, driving back the nearby Snaga and preparing to break through by force. One of them moved slightly faster, and after butchering two Snaga, he took a blade to the back but rolled out of the encirclement, black ichor streaming from his wounds.
The other Uruk-hai wasn't so lucky. Being slightly slower, he was grabbed around the thighs by three Snaga who rushed at him like rabid beasts. He desperately swung his curved blade, the sharp edge carving through flesh and bone as he tried to break free from their grip.
But after killing one attacker, he was dragged to the blood-soaked ground. Grashk emerged from the shadows like a predator, seized the opportunity, and drove his blade through the Uruk's heart with one vicious thrust.
The narrow blade was pulled out with a wet squelch, foul blood gushing forth. Then Grashk circled around the campfire to stand among his subordinates, looking up at Broken-tooth with cold, mocking laughter. The sound carried smugness and savage triumph.
At this moment, seven Snaga were still alive on the field, while only two Uruk-hai remained, one of them wounded. He felt victory was within his grasp!
Broken-tooth's eyes burned with murderous fury. He didn't retreat but let out an earth-shaking roar, stepped forward, and raised his sword to kill.
The heavy blade whistled as it cleaved off a Snaga's head in a spray of gore, then struck down hard again, splitting another Snaga in half along with his weapon. Entrails spilled across the blood-drenched earth.
Without hesitation, he charged directly at Grashk, his mouth wide open as if he wanted to devour this stinking rat alive.
Seeing the situation turning dire, Grashk quickly hurled his curved blade, then grabbed a torch and threw it over, trying to hinder Broken-tooth's pursuit. Then he darted to the side, retreating behind his teammates and melting into the shadows.
Facing the curved blade flying toward him, Broken-tooth dodged to the side, but his eyes were dazzled by the flying torch. While running, he tripped over a corpse on the ground and fell with a bone-jarring crash.
"Gut him, you maggots! Don't let the filth get up!" Grashk's shrieking voice was heart-wrenching. The remaining Snaga were encouraged and, like dying beasts, howled as they pounced on Broken-tooth, who had just turned over.
The only standing Uruk-hai dragged his wounded body over to block them, but could only stop most of the enemies. One Snaga flashed past him, gripping his knife handle with both hands and stabbing straight at Broken-tooth's heart.
However, he was caught firmly by a pair of strong, powerful hands. The blood-stained curved blade reflecting firelight froze in mid-air, motionless.
"Die, you maggot!" Grashk snarled wickedly as he emerged from the shadows, grabbed a burning stick from the campfire, and smashed it down on Broken-tooth's broad, scarred head.
Sparks flew everywhere, and angry roars echoed through the air.
The battle on the other side had also ended, with only the wounded Uruk-hai standing at the end. He was bleeding black ichor all over, his breathing as heavy as a bellows, with three Snaga corpses at his feet. Even so, he planned to support Broken-tooth.
His steps staggered, his form swaying. Suddenly, cold steel flashed, and a snarling head flew skyward in a fountain of gore.
At this moment, Aedric held chains in one hand and gripped a curved blade in the other, having quietly crept up. He had no intention of letting the balance on the field be broken. The orcs' deadly show was still going on.
"Ah, damn rat!" Facing the threat of death, Broken-tooth roared continuously, yanking away the curved blade stabbing at him. Then he suddenly rose and embraced the Snaga pressing down on him, opened his mouth wide to bite the other's neck, and viciously tore away a large chunk of flesh. Black blood gushed out like a fountain.
The Snaga convulsed twice, then went still. The blood-covered Broken-tooth also stood up from the ground, dragging the corpse step by step toward Grashk.
Grashk was so frightened he staggered backward, threw away the stick in his hand, and turned to run. As soon as he turned around, he was knocked down by the flying corpse.
"I swear by the great Dark Lord that I will cut off your hands and feet, stew them into soup, and then make you swallow it yourself!" Broken-tooth's voice carried the malice of Barad-dûr's darkest dungeons.
"No, no!" Grashk screamed in terror, then his pupils contracted and his face showed surprise. At that moment, a blade tip emerged from Broken-tooth's crude armor, piercing through his chest with black blood.
In severe pain, the Uruk-hai turned his head and saw a grinning face showing neat white teeth. It was that damned human!
"Ah!" Broken-tooth opened his mouth to roar, raising his arm to deliver a final strike, but felt all his strength leaving through the wound in his back.
Aedric jerked the knife back, ignoring Broken-tooth who had become a corpse, and strode toward the only living orc—Grashk. It was time to end this absurd battle.
"Don't kill him!" A clear voice suddenly rang out. Aedric's whole body tensed, instinctively holding his curved blade vertically in front of his chest while quickly turning his head to look.
A dark shadow emerged from the forest. The newcomer wore a hood, was cloaked in green, carried a bow and sword, with a slender and well-proportioned figure. Judging by height, at least around six feet three.
Walking with ethereal lightness, the dark boots made almost no sound on the grass.
"Friend, skulking in shadows isn't very courteous," Aedric called out loudly while lowering his curved blade to show he wouldn't attack.
The person had bow and arrows, and judging by that build was clearly a skilled archer. If they had hostile intentions, he would have been shot through the heart already. He understood this much at least.
Hearing this, the figure immediately stopped and without hesitation reached up to pull down the hood. Instantly, a cascade of golden hair poured down like a waterfall, framing a pale face that shone with the hazy light of dawn.
Under the firelight, her expression was as calm as lake water, unchanged. But her trembling eyes and pressed lips indicated the anxiety and tension deep in her heart.
The leaf-shaped ears behind her hair also revealed the newcomer's identity. An elf! Gray eyes? Golden hair? And a Noldor at that!
Originally, all Noldor had dark hair from the moment of their awakening, but after the first Noldor queen gave birth to her only son, Fëanor, her life force was consumed too greatly, and she passed away. Later, the High King of the Noldor married a Vanya and had descendants, so the Noldor also came to have golden hair. The Lady of the Golden Wood was from this lineage.
Now, all Vanya lived in Aman, so the golden-haired elves living in Middle-earth were theoretically only the Noldor. This was knowledge Aedric had summarized from consulting relevant materials. Though not absolute, it was close to the truth.
Various things about elves quickly passed through his mind. Aedric raised his eyebrows. Even though he had seen many beautiful women, including quite a few dressed as elves, he was still amazed. She was beautiful, as if she were glowing!
But it was only for a second or two before Aedric recovered, also dropping his last bit of wariness. In Middle-earth, the relationship between humans and elves had always been good. For nearly ten thousand years, they had fought side by side against the forces of darkness as steadfast allies.
Coming to Middle-earth as an ordinary human, he naturally inherited this friendly relationship.
"I say, Child of the Stars," Aedric smiled, speaking fluent Westron: "I've experienced too many strange things today, but I never expected to see an elf pleading for orcs. Could you explain the reason?"
You should know that the hatred between the two races ran bone-deep. If told in detail, it could probably fill dozens of movies plus hundreds of TV episodes.
"Sir, it's not pleading," the female elf frowned slightly, explaining rapidly: "I've been tracking them all the way here because I have very important matters to inquire about. Now he is your captive, so naturally I need your agreement. I hope you can agree to this presumptuous request."
"No problem," Aedric agreed without thinking, continuing: "Humans and elves made an alliance thousands of years ago; helping each other is natural..."
Before finishing his words, he suddenly widened his eyes. He saw the female elf across from him frowning for some reason, her right hand lightning-fast drawing a willow-leaf-shaped dagger from her waist, then throwing it like a projectile.
"Eh? Did I just say I disagreed?" Aedric was startled, hurriedly raising his blade to block, but was half a beat slow due to the suddenness.
Knowing he couldn't block it, Aedric lamented, "This doesn't make sense!" and watched helplessly as the dagger got closer and closer, finally brushing past his body and flying by.
"Ahh!" A scream rang out. The dagger precisely stuck in Grashk's leg, interrupting his escape plan.
"Thank you, generous sir. Just call me Luna, from the house of Finrod," the female elf said as she rushed over like a gust of wind.
"Aedric, from the South," Aedric lowered his blade and shrugged as he introduced himself, then turned back to see Luna pulling out the dagger. The sharp blade brought out a spray of black blood, and amid the orc's screams, she ruthlessly stabbed it back in.
"Speak, which direction did the group with children go?" Luna asked while forcefully twisting the knife handle, her face full of coldness.
Grashk screamed: "No, I can't say! The master will punish me, make my soul suffer endless torment!"
"If you don't speak, you'll suffer endless torment right now," Luna's eyes flashed with cold light as her right hand continued twisting the dagger, constantly inflicting pain.
Grashk wailed continuously, the sound particularly miserable in the quiet night.
My goodness! Can't mess with her, can't mess with her.
Aedric shook his head and walked away. He wasn't particularly interested in interrogation and excitedly prepared to clean up the battlefield.
Fighting without looting bodies—what kind of decent person would that be?
Even though most orcs had a certain beauty in their intellectual deficiency, they were equally enthusiastic about collecting shiny objects. Tribes traded with each other not only through barter but also used human or dwarf currency as general equivalents—so-called gold coins, silver coins, and copper pieces.
As a newcomer who was flat broke, what was most important for Aedric to survive well in Middle-earth, meet familiar characters, and participate in various plots?
Was it fearless courage? The determination to fight against darkness? Or prophetic wisdom and insight?
Undeniably, these were all important, but for Aedric at this moment, the most urgent thing was making money!
Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, used most of his lifetime to prove that without money or housing, even a prince had to pick up a hammer and work as a blacksmith.
In terms of money-making ability, Aedric was far inferior to the dwarves. He was as poor as a church mouse right now.
So he better hurry up and see if he can scavenge some spoils of war.
A few minutes later, Aedric inserted a dwarf dagger at his waist, then looked unhappily at the small handful of coins in his hand. To be precise, four silver coins of different sizes and styles.
"Poor as death!" He complained, trying hard to recall the Middle-earth prices he knew.
In Bree, Frodo Baggins and his companions spent twelve silver coins to buy a skinny, listless pony from Bill Ferny. And that was triple the original price.
From this calculation, his current four silver coins could probably buy one pony. Simply converting, in Bree these coins might sustain a month of living, including rent and food. Maybe longer?
But to buy weapons and equipment, plus some personal items like water bags, cloaks, daggers, medicines, and such, it would probably fall short. As for a house, don't even think about it!
"Still need to find ways to make money. Can't possibly buy a fishing rod to go fishing, right? Forget it; just the bait would bankrupt me."
Aedric shook his head helplessly, looking at the curved blades covered in foul blood and the tattered crude armor on the ground, wondering whether to carry all this back and find a blacksmith or leatherworker to exchange for some spending money.
But who would want orc stuff?
"Master Aedric." A greeting interrupted Aedric's wild thoughts. He turned to look. It was Luna. She had finished the interrogation and walked over.
"Done with questioning?" Aedric stepped back two paces to meet the elf's eyes at the same level, saying: "Just call me by my name; no need to be so formal."
He had caught a few fragments earlier. Based on guessing and speculation, it should be that several orc teams had sneakily infiltrated elf settlements, then got lucky and captured two underage elves.
This... whose family wouldn't search when their children went missing! Especially the elf race, who valued family and kinfolk extremely highly.
Luna was one of the search party members.
"Mm." Luna nodded, looking somewhat anxious as she replied: "Sir, I have another request. I hope you can agree. Would you be willing to accept employment?"
In terms of souls, elves had innate special abilities. She could vaguely sense that this man's soul hadn't been tainted by dark influence. That's why she dared to ask for help.
"I need a companion to rescue captured kinfolk. The enemy numbers around several dozen, all Uruk-hai."
"Ah?!" Faced with the sudden request, Aedric was stunned, then began considering whether his abilities could handle this commission.
Luna's tone became increasingly urgent: "I know this is dangerous."
