Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Thank you..." Nyx gently held the staff close to her chest, her tear-filled eyes shimmering with gratitude.

"It's nothing. Why are you crying? Who dared upset my dear Duchess?" Rynar chuckled as he reached out to wipe away her tears.

"By the gold coins! We're doomed!" Jessiava groaned, clutching his head in despair.

"This is bad. Our supplies are in serious trouble!" Lance's face darkened as he surveyed the situation.

Earlier, as their ship navigated the waters of the Loningelrion region, an unidentified water-based magical beast stirred up a massive wave in the river. 

Thanks to the defensive battle aura of the accompanying Lordaeron Rangers, they narrowly avoided capsizing.

 However, a deluge of water splashed into the cargo hold. 

The Beornish ships, designed for calm inland rivers, lacked the resilience to withstand such challenges. The result? All their flour was thoroughly soaked.

"We need to dock and salvage what we can from these provisions!" Lance said, his tone filled with helpless resignation. 

Sometimes, natural disasters proved far worse than any man-made calamity.

"Head for the west bank!" Lance instructed, massaging his temples.

The eastern bank led directly to Dol Guldur's vicinity, a place still teeming with scattered Orc remnants despite the Allied Forces' significant victories there. 

Lance's small detachment couldn't possibly confront such dangers.

"We'll bake what flour we can salvage and then search for villages to replenish our supplies," Lance added, adjusting the longsword at his hip.

"As you command, my lord!"

"Wait... we're going ashore? Oh no!" Jessiava cried out in horror. Goblins, naturally averse to the surface world, were now trembling at the thought of stepping foot near the Misty Mountains.

"Seriously? I always thought goblins were quite bold," Lance quipped, eyeing Jessiava.

"Well, they are... when it comes to stealing," Lance muttered under his breath.

"Ahem! We goblin warriors are also courageous and steadfast!" Jessiava puffed out his chest, though the effort only highlighted his scrawny frame.

"Goblin warriors..." Lance couldn't help but imagine a group of green-skinned, one-meter-tall creatures clad in flimsy steel armor. 

Who could bring themselves to harm such... adorable little creatures? 

Believing in goblin warriors' valor seemed as plausible as expecting skeletal soldiers to rise as champions of justice. At least necromancers had offensive spells.

"Fine, I believe you. But for now, we must focus on saving our precious food supplies!" Lance calculated their needs. 

The group of over a hundred people had only about ten days of provisions left after half their flour dissolved in the water. 

Resorting to hunting wouldn't sustain such a large number, especially once they reached the plains with scarce game.

"It seems we'll need to find a town or village to restock, or we won't make it to Rohan," Jessiava sighed, glancing at the soaked flour sacks and the mess in the cargo hold. 

His original plan to resupply in Rohan now seemed impossible.

"Let's bake this into bread for now," Lance groaned, his head pounding.

Half a day later, with their ships secured, Lance's troops set off at sunset in search of a village. Each warhorse carried several makeshift loaves of bread.

Without new supplies or fresh game, this would be their sustenance for the coming days.

"Damn it! How did I miss this waterfall?" Lance cursed as he studied the map. The Anduin River downstream featured a waterfall, making their journey to Gondor's capital by boat impossible.

"So, we're abandoning the ships and walking to Gondor?" Jessiava asked, his lips twitching.

"Afraid so," Lance replied, his headache worsening. Although the route avoided Orc territory, the trek across land would take at least a month to reach Gondor's borders.

"Good news, my lord! There's a village ahead!" After trekking several dozen miles along the river, the Lordaeron Rangers scouting ahead returned with the best news of the day.

"Let's pay them a visit," Lance said, tidying his appearance to look more presentable.

"I hope they have a tavern. I could use a beer to reward myself!" Jessiava wiped the sweat from his brow. Even on horseback, the journey had taken a toll on his delicate constitution.

"If they do, I'll buy everyone a drink!" Lance's coin pouch jingled cheerfully, a testament to his noble status.

Ding-ding-ding! 

A rusty copper bell rang out as panicked villagers rushed to the walls. 

A motley group of militiamen, wielding rusted and warped spears, watched in terror as an iron-clad force approached.

"Halt... halt... s-strangers!" A stammering militiaman finally mustered the courage to address Lance's party at the village entrance.

Lance cut an imposing figure, far more commanding than Rynar's first village encounter. 

With a hundred heavily armored knights and fifty Lordaeron Rangers at his back, Lance had every reason to feel confident.

"We are soldiers of the Zaltarion Kingdom from the north. We seek food and shelter in your village and are willing to pay. Bring your leader to me!" 

Lance jingled a small pouch containing ten gold coins, the sound echoing enticingly.

The villagers, unaccustomed to such wealth, were utterly overwhelmed by Lance's noble bearing. Even sitting quietly on his horse, his aura dominated them.

"Village Chief! A noble lord has come to our village!" one militiaman wailed as he ran toward the crowded village square.

"You're from where?" The village chief, now trembling, examined Lance's retinue and felt utterly powerless. The iron-clad knights alone could flatten their village. Resistance was futile.

"Let them in..." the chief muttered in defeat. In the face of such overwhelming strength, even the thought of defiance was extinguished.

"Thank you. We only need a place to rest and resupply. You know how those goblins love causing trouble in the dead of night," Lance said with a shrug.

"No problem, my lord! Let them in! But we don't have many spare rooms, so you'll have to camp in the square," the chief replied hurriedly.

"No worries, any space will do!" Lance nodded in satisfaction. Finding such a cooperative village was a stroke of luck.

"By the gods! What's going on here?" Jessiava's sudden scream shattered the moment.

Lance's instincts flared as he drew his sword, shielding himself with his arm. Had he been too careless entering unfamiliar territory? His thoughts raced, imagining an ambush.

"What's wrong, Jessiava?" Lance asked, scanning the area, his sword ready.

"Lance! You need to see this! These despicable scoundrels... look what they're doing!" Jessiava shouted angrily from the square.

Lance hurried over and froze at the sight. A young girl, battered and bruised, was bound and tied to a wooden stump. Her tattered clothes did little to conceal the deep wounds covering her body. Blood trickled down her legs, pooling in the dirt below. Beside her lay a stack of firewood.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lance demanded. Even without investigation, he could sense the magical energy radiating from the girl. 

She was a naturally awakened mage, untrained in controlling her power, which made her aura unmistakable.

"Milord! She's a curse, an omen of disaster! Just yesterday, she brought a magical beast upon us!" The chief pointed at the girl with trembling hands.

"Lies!" Jessiava snapped. Though his magical rank was modest, he was a spellcaster and outraged at such backward superstition.

The blood-stained stump and pyre revealed the villagers' intent to burn her as a witch.

"Unbelievable! I can't believe such archaic nonsense still exists—burning witches for bringing bad luck?" Jessiava snarled, cutting the girl's bindings with a small knife.

The executioner raised his axe in protest, only to be greeted by a wall of leveled lances. He quickly learned the art of diplomacy: drop the weapon and kneel.

"This girl is coming with us," Jessiava declared, glaring at the chief. He ordered the girl, unconscious and battered, to be carried to their camp.

"Humanity is truly vile!" Jessiava muttered, his heart burning with righteous anger as he watched over the girl. How could anyone mistake a natural magical awakening for something so sinister?

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