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Middle-earth Adventure Journal! - 22
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 14:18:04 +0000 UTCChapter 22: Coming Out in Full Force
They looked around, searching for enemies.
Swish! Another light sound as an arrow shot from the tree canopy overhead, precisely piercing the Snaga holding a short bow. The fellow with his heart pierced didn't even scream before falling dead.
"Take cover!" The Snaga scattered, hiding behind thick tree trunks, completely leaving the archer's line of sight, yet failing to notice three tall figures rising from the undergrowth.
Leading them was a human bearing a bright longsword. Toward orcs, Aedric's consistent attitude contained only one word.
Kill!
He believed in the principle that only dead orcs were good orcs. His feet moved swiftly, and halfway through his charge he raised Mithreleth high overhead. The meter-long blade flickered with cold light in the gradually brightening forest as both arms gathered power, aiming at one Snaga's head before striking down fiercely.
Heavy footsteps quickly drew the Snaga's attention. Big humans were like this—even Aedric was no different in noise-making ability compared to orcs.
The pitch-black ugly face instantly looked back. Fierce sword-light bore down overwhelmingly, growing brighter in their eyes.
The Snaga targeted by Aedric had no time to dodge. With a swish, the head and half the body directly departed. One strike successful.
Aedric quickly turned, Mithreleth previously hanging toward the ground now becoming a horizontal sweep from bottom to top with his body's rotation. Both arms suddenly exerted force as sword-light covered at least a meter-and-a-half fan-shaped area before him.
Seeing his kind cleaved in half and fierce sword-light sweeping toward him, the Snaga within the sweep's range panicked and raised his short spear, trying to block the attack. His pair of pitch-black eyes rolled wildly, seeking escape opportunities.
However, he only saw one fool trying to flee getting shot down the moment after running from behind the tree trunk! Another idiot tried resisting, raising his curved blade while howling as he charged the human nearly twice his height, only to be knocked down by the longsword.
Another coward seemed scared stupid, hiding behind a tree trembling with his head buried in grass, thinking he wouldn't be discovered, then a gleaming spear-point pierced his chest.
He'd decided to block the attack and then crawl through the human's legs into the opposite undergrowth. This way, he could both avoid arrows and gain escape opportunities.
Crack—a crisp sound.
This Snaga stared wide-eyed at his spear shaft broken in two pieces and the black blood and organs gushing from his wound, finally realizing he too was a fool!
He'd clearly blocked a curved blade attack last time! Aedric, having delivered one sword stroke, didn't check results but quickly rushed toward the next enemy.
From the slight resistance his arms felt, the opponent was certainly dead! Then the battle ended.
The remaining two or three Snaga were either caught and killed while fleeing or pinned by arrows from overhead.
Aedric tore cloth from a corpse to wipe the slight blood staining Mithreleth clean, then looked up. Meeting Luna's eyes as she poked out her head, he said nothing, just smiled and nodded before leading Torg and another Dúnedain Ranger named Tom away from the scene.
Leaving only blood-stained corpses scattered on the ground.
This was Elrohir's plan. The twin brothers, Aedric, Torg, Luna, plus ten supporting Dúnedain Rangers divided into three teams, searching Woody End and slaughtering orc foraging squads.
This would force the enemy to send out large forces seeking the killers of their subordinates. Then execute the next phase.
This was an open strategy. For tribes still dependent on gathering and hunting for survival, it struck at their foundation.
Even orcs needed to eat—maggoty bread would do, but they couldn't expect to fill their stomachs with stones, sand, and leaves.
When Aedric's group returned to camp, the other two teams were exchanging results. Besides the twin brothers, ten grave-faced, weathered Dúnedain sat around the camp's perimeter maintaining their longswords, war-spears, longbows, and other weapons.
Like stones weathered by wind and frost. Young Torg seemed out of place among them.
Halladrak hadn't come. According to Elladan, he was gathering more kinsmen while trying his luck contacting other elf squads returning to the Grey Havens. Perhaps he'd return in a day or two.
In this era, assembling warriors was extremely troublesome. Nothing like instant communication was achievable. Constant running and gathering were required.
"Too unlucky—I led people around the forest's south side most of the night, only encountering seven or eight pests. By the time we finished them, dawn had broken."
The speaker was Elladan, complaining about the night's meager kill count. Even with elves' excellent vision and hearing, finding ghost-like orcs in complex forest environments wasn't particularly easy.
"Not bad. We encountered no orc foraging parties all night. Near dawn, we found two small squads together—they seemed to have discovered rabbit warrens. Eliminating them didn't take much effort."
After sitting, Aedric briefly described his team's harvest while Morgan handed over provisions and water. They'd spent the entire night running through forests without eating or drinking. They needed replenishment upon return.
"About right." Elrohir pondered briefly: "If Morgan's intelligence is correct, they must send out at least a hundred pests daily seeking food. Missing a third will definitely draw their attention!"
So their team had eliminated at least ten orcs.
"Why such trouble? Just guard the cave entrance—kill whoever comes out, kill pairs who emerge together. Or we guard the entrance, then quietly follow those pests after they leave. Surely faster than aimlessly searching the woods."
Elladan raised his hand in suggestion.
"No good." Elrohir shook his head in denial: "Too easily exposed. We can't let the orcs know someone's targeted their lair. Instead, we must gradually wear down this orc band's strength until their leader can't endure it and brings large forces from the cave."
"Don't forget innocent captives enslaved by them. We must... right, draw the snake from its hole." Here Elrohir glanced at Aedric—this was the first time he'd heard such a phrase. Yet it perfectly fit the current situation.
"The orcs won't emerge during daylight. Though Woody End's trees are lush, they can't block all sunlight—hardly dark enough. So tonight we continue as before?"
Aedric inquired.
"No, tonight we monitor those pests' reactions." Elrohir glanced at Luna quietly returning to camp before turning back: "Aedric, you and Luna handle surveillance, then adapt as needed. Elladan and I'll lead others in ambush."
Aedric looked back at his new teammate, finding Luna also nodding, and replied: "Fine, no problem."
"No, I must go too." Morgan jumped forward: "If those orcs hide in their cave, refusing to emerge, I can slip inside to see what's happening."
"Right, exactly." Elrohir nodded in agreement.
"Mm, alright." Aedric nodded his consent.
Night quietly fell, shrouding Woody End. The moon hid behind clouds, half-concealing its bright face, while many stars also concealed themselves.
Aedric glanced at Luna close beside him, her pale face hidden beneath her hood, expression focused. Suddenly she also turned back, her eyes clear and bright, her mouth curving up as her eyebrows arched in a smile.
Aedric nodded without speaking while trying hard to steady himself. At this moment, human and elf stood in a great tree seven or eight meters high, quietly watching the distant orc cave.
Aedric's footing wasn't very stable. Whether psychological or factual, even without wind, he felt unsteadiness underfoot. With wind, it became even worse.
Like standing on a small sailboat experiencing storms! He wasn't afraid of heights, but needed solid footing!
Yet Luna beside him remained perfectly motionless—truly enviable racial talent. If only I could do that too.
Aedric felt very envious yet quite cheerful. Being with a beautiful elf, even without speaking, felt quite wonderful.
Only the chasm between humans and elves remained too distant. Lifespan alone differed vastly. One would be dust in a hundred-odd years; the other would experience reincarnation only when the world ended.
Somehow Aedric suddenly remembered another story. Elrond's ancestor, also Celorn's creator—Tuor. This fellow accomplished something different, marrying the Noldorin High King's daughter. After experiencing Gondolin's fall, he sailed seeking Aman.
He succeeded, even changing fate to become an elf and flying off with his wife. Accomplishing such things would be extremely difficult?!
As Aedric's thoughts wandered, thrum, thrum drumbeats suddenly came from below. From that pitch-black cave.
Even the tree branches underfoot seemed to tremble along. Chaotic, noisy footsteps followed in succession, especially clear mixed with drumbeats.
The cave entrance soon grew lively. Masses of orcs with completely uneven steps, bearing shields, curved blades, long spears, short bows, and carrying bundles poured out like a black flood.
Aedric and Luna exchanged glances without tension. This scene was within their expectations.
Last night Aedric's group had hunted several orc foraging squads—they'd certainly react today. If not, that'd be strange.
According to Aedric and Elrohir's estimates, after these orcs left their cave, ideally they'd split into three parts heading to where foraging squads were eliminated. Then carefully investigate and track.
Now the twin brothers led Dúnedain Rangers in ambush at one location, waiting for an orc band to enter the trap. If not, no matter. Days were long—the enemy in light, us in shadow. Eventually we'd wear them down!
Under moonlight, the orc column continued endlessly.
"How are there so many? This exceeds three hundred already!" Aedric carefully counted orc numbers—in rows, actually quite easy to count.
This commotion was rather large! Beyond his and Elrohir's estimates.
Suddenly Aedric frowned, looking at the orc formation and thinking: "What are those things?"
Among the Snaga-filled ranks, over ten tall figures mixed in. They clustered together, not as tall as trolls but still over two-and-a-half meters high. Their gait wasn't as clumsy and bulky as trolls.
Appearance differed little from Uruk-hai—broad faces, protruding tusks, fierce expressions, and black eyes with red glints. Solid muscles all over, wearing crude leather armor, both hands gripping thick-to-thin wooden clubs whose thickest parts nearly exceeded a normal person's thighs.
One blow could send three to five Snaga flying. Somewhat like Bakus after berserking. Only fiercer, stronger, bigger!
One seemed to carry a small Snaga on his back.
"What new improved thing is this?!" Aedric drew a sharp breath, pupils suddenly contracting.
"Eh? There are more?!" A string of thin black shadows rushed from the cave, soundlessly running quickly along both sides of the formation.
Those weren't wargs. Much smaller and more slender, whole faces like inverted triangles. Open mouths could grin to ear-level, teeth sharp, hair abundant—black fur floating with their running.
One stopped at least two hundred meters from the great tree, then raised its head, sniffing, before walking toward the tree step by step. Blood-red eyes moved back and forth, actually showing human-like wariness.
It seemed to smell something.
Aedric instantly refocused while hearing slight movement beside his ear. He turned left to see Luna slowly drawing an arrow from behind, using extremely gentle motions to nock it, then raising her hand to aim at the hound below the tree.
Don't! Aedric directly placed his left hand before the arrow.
Luna looked over in confusion. Aedric shook his head, indicating no rush, while his right hand drew a small vial from his pocket, soundlessly uncorking it to apply some to himself before passing it to Luna.
Scent-masking potion. Luna complied but raised her war bow again.
If the potion didn't work, she'd take the creature's life immediately! Then this time she'd carry Aedric and run!
