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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 261
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 11:36:29 +0000 UTCChapter 261: Stubbornness
When the Practice was completed, its template was also saved by Levi, designated as "Practice-class."
This would make future construction far more convenient.
However, so far, only Levi could build such flagships within the entire territory. Others were still learning, and no one had yet reached this level.
"Comparable to the largest ships in my memory, perhaps even more exquisite."
When the Practice was officially completed and Levi stood at the bow making his announcement, Círdan stood below as one of the witnesses.
Beside him, a very conspicuous grey hat stood out in the crowd.
"Indeed large enough. Just the number of people needed to operate and maintain it could form a full assault company," Gandalf said, looking left and right at the vessel, gazing at the light beam breaking through the sky. He could not help sighing with emotion.
According to Levi, every Practice-class warship had to be equipped with at least one beacon—it was simply a massive mobile fortress.
Looking and looking, old Gandalf grew thoughtful.
"The last time I saw such a large ship was long ago, but that ship sank, along with the throne upon it and the nation to which its throne's owner belonged."
"Trust in Levi," Círdan reminded the old wizard beside him.
He naturally knew whom Gandalf spoke of and which ship he meant.
Alcarondas—the Sea Fortress, the flagship of Númenor's last king Ar-Pharazôn when he attacked Valinor.
Of course, everyone knew the consequences of attacking Valinor—that invincible fleet along with all of Númenor sank, disappearing utterly from the world.
"Of course I trust him."
"I just feel... never mind."
Halfway through speaking, Gandalf shook his head.
"It's a good thing regardless."
News of the Practice's birth spread effortlessly, soon reaching distant lands.
Like Gondor.
When messengers returned with concrete news, many high officials felt their scalps prickle.
But Turgon pressed down on his subordinates, suppressing certain thoughts rising within them.
"Open Pelargir's harbor. Allow the Free Cities' fleets passage."
"But..." someone tried expressing their concerns.
Turgon cut them off.
"If he had hostile intentions, would he need any schemes?"
The entire hall fell silent.
Whoosh.
After the meeting ended, Turgon dragged his increasingly weakening body back to his chambers, taking up his pen to write a letter.
He needed to convey Gondor's decisions made in response to their ally's development—primarily goodwill—to that distant city-state, that newly established port city.
Year 2952, spring: A messenger departed with letters and royal gifts.
"What do you mean, your lord is absent again?"
However, when he traveled for weeks and finally reached Riverside Keep on the western side of the Misty Mountains, he received such news.
"Not at Roadside Keep either."
"Then..."
"Do not ask me, friend."
The citizen replied, "No one knows where our lord is, and please do not mind—this is our lord's normal state."
"Then I will wait here."
"Of course. You are very welcome to stay for some time."
The messenger helplessly settled at Roadside Keep.
As for Levi... he and the messenger had practically brushed past each other.
When Gondor's messenger headed west, Levi was running east.
"What are you looking at?"
On the Old South Road, Levi was riding when suddenly a group of locals dressed in animal furs, holding axes and spears, emerged from the grass.
Dunlendings.
They were not particularly polite.
When Levi was startled by the suddenly appearing hill-folk, they were equally startled by him.
"Nothing, my lord. We are hunting, just happened to pass through here."
The Dunlending leader stepped forward to speak.
Regarding these people, Levi did not recognize them at all, but as for Levi, they knew him too well—their ears were weary from hearing various stories.
"Hunting?"
"You look more like you are about to commit some crime."
"Absolutely not, my lord."
The leader lowered his head somewhat guiltily while others remained silent.
"State your purpose and who directed you."
Levi dismounted and stood before him.
Simply looking at him.
Cold sweat fell unceasingly. The leader finally could not withstand the pressure and said, "It is Lord Saruman. He told us to watch people passing through here, but I promise we absolutely did not intend to attack, whether it was you or anyone else!"
"Oh, Saruman?"
"I was just going to find him. What you said better be true."
"I swear to you, my words have no falsehood."
"Acceptable. Go back, and wander around here less in the future."
"Yes!"
They retreated hastily.
Levi mounted his horse and continued east, all the way to Isengard, before Orthanc's gates.
Many years had passed, yet this place remained unchanged—lakes clear, trees lush, sky azure.
Just that old face atop the tower was not particularly welcoming.
"Saruman, open up, open up!"
"It is me, open the door!"
Before the empty gate, Levi knocked loudly. As he knocked, a crack appeared above, and as the knocking continued, this crack kept widening.
"Enough! Can you not wait? I also need time to walk down!"
Seeing the door about to be knocked off its hinges, a voice called out.
Saruman quickly stopped Levi and opened the main door.
"I thought you were not here."
"I have always been here. The doorkeeper just happened to be called by me to do other things."
"Oh, how inconvenient—just as I arrived, you called him away to do something else."
"Very inconvenient."
Saruman maintained a straight face with a flat tone, seemingly not hearing any other meaning in Levi's words.
"So what brings our 'great shipbuilder, master of the Angle's grand shipyard' to visit here?"
At the tower's upper level, Saruman brewed a pot of fine tea and poured Levi a cup.
"I must say, the tea is quite good. It seems the White Wizard Saruman truly deserves the title of 'Wise'—his taste alone shows his excellence."
Levi rarely praised this fellow.
But Saruman did not respond.
Because the tea was imported from Roadside Keep.
Seeing his silence, Levi stopped the pleasantries and got straight to the point. "I am actually here with a request. I need an item from within your tower."
"What?"
"The Star of Elendil."
Saruman narrowed his eyes.
"I do not know what you are talking about."
"No need to hide it. I know it is here."
The visitor meant no good.
"So?"
Seeing Levi's resolute attitude, Saruman simply stopped pretending.
But setting pretense aside, Saruman felt somewhat puzzled now.
The exposure of this matter did not concern him much, but how this matter was exposed was very important.
For millennia, no one knew the Star of Elendil was taken by him, and no one had suspected this place.
As for someone sneaking into Orthanc's secret chamber to see that gem—even more impossible. The secret chamber's key had never been given to anyone, and magical protections guarded the door. Never mind ordinary people—even Nazgûl could not break through.
"How did you know?"
"I guessed."
Hearing this answer, Saruman's hand stiffened, nearly crushing his teacup.
"It is not here. I was just making things up earlier."
"It is definitely here."
"Not here."
"It is."
"I said it is not."
"I said it is."
"Alright, I am not here to rob you."
Levi set down his teacup. "Name your price. I am taking it with me."
Oh, so it was a misunderstanding.
Saruman's expression improved slightly.
"Since you put it that way, I must properly tell you the arduous story of how I have preserved it..."
