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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 291
🕑 Added 2025-10-27 14:00:00 +0000 UTCChapter 291: As Always
Heat waves rippled across the battlefield, stirring hair streaked with black and white.
On the watchtower behind Levi, Bard lowered his great bow, nearly as tall as himself, breathing deeply to calm his racing heartbeat.
Under Levi's enthusiastic double thumbs-up, he showed a proud expression.
At this moment, the descendant of Dale's former lord Girion, Bard the Bowman, seemed to return to his youth. He was still that archer whose skills even elves would praise, without the slightest decline in ability.
However, along with pride, Bard also breathed a small sigh of relief.
"My friend, this time I could finally help you, even if just by a small measure..."
He spoke quietly, then turned to look at another watchtower, raising his voice to shout, "How many points do you think that shot of mine earned, Bain?"
After gaining recognition, the old father immediately went to show off to his competitive son.
And Bain was clearly stunned by this audacious move.
You could do it like that?
"All right, never mind the score. You win!"
This time, he was thoroughly convinced, to the point of unconsciously using respectful language when addressing his father.
"Son, you still need more practice."
"Fine, fine, you're absolutely right."
Bain looked helpless but amused.
Looking at the old man who remained his role model, he suddenly smiled warmly.
So much still to learn from him.
True warriors dare face blood dripping from their faces and the cruel reality without flinching. Even facing a terrifying enemy almost undefeatable, like a walking natural disaster, as long as its target is what he wants to protect, he will stake his life on the outcome.
It's either you die or I die, with no middle ground.
Precisely because of this courage, he's like a true leader.
Whether evil dragon or Balrog, or even if someday facing Sauron at full strength, or even darker beings more powerful than the Dark Lord himself, he would unhesitatingly stand forward to resist, even if it meant marching toward death.
Fortunately, such apocalyptic events had low probability of occurring.
Below the walls, Levi's gaze swept over the system notifications one by one, then looked at the Balrog's massive corpse.
This creature had dropped quite a bit of useful material.
Levi crouched down, first grasping the crimson-black flames still leaping across the Balrog's body.
[Flame of Udûn]
This was the very item Sauron had used to summon the Balrog from its slumber.
Udûn meant hell in the Black Speech. Calling it hellfire was no exaggeration.
These flames burned without any support or foundation, seemingly solid yet somehow particle-like in nature. Their temperature was slightly higher than that of ordinary wood-burning flames. Direct contact would definitely cause severe burns, but fortunately, the inventory could contain them safely.
However hot they burned, entering inventory meant behaving themselves.
Besides a pile of Udûn flames, the Balrog dropped nothing else particularly useful. Its body parts—skin, claws, wings, tail, bones—weren't exceptionally strong materials compared to what Levi already possessed. Not much practical use there.
Only that horned head looked intimidating enough. It could be preserved as a trophy specimen.
Though the drops were limited, many things could be crafted from what remained.
These dark flames had other applications. In the crafting table interface, they could be smelted with iron into a new alloy called Netherite Scrap.
This material was originally dropped by another creature not existing in this world, called a "Blaze," which can be crafted through normal means.
But it seemed the Balrog's immortal dark fire shared similar mystical properties with this metal. The recipe had been automatically unlocked.
One Udûn flame could make one netherite scrap. This Balrog had dropped five total.
This was the beauty of the Looting enchantment at work.
No matter the original drop amount, the enchantment forcibly extracted additional materials.
Five flames total. Upgrading from netherite to dragonfire steel armor would leave one remaining for other purposes.
Besides making netherite scraps, these flames could also be attached to weapons as enchantments, giving them a new attribute similar to Fire Aspect.
But that was unnecessary. Completely redundant for his current loadout. Better to keep them as rare mementos of the battle.
After collecting all the spoils, Levi dragged the Balrog's massive corpse away from the city walls to avoid frightening citizens unnecessarily.
So the legendary demon of the ancient world was unceremoniously tossed by the roadside, dead and discarded like an oversized insect.
"Hey, Thorin!"
Returning to the walls, Levi waved energetically.
"Glad to see everything ended smoothly, Levi."
Thorin walked over and embraced Levi tightly in a warrior's hug.
"Remarkable. I saw the entire battle. That Balrog was completely outmatched against you."
"You don't know, when it first emerged, I felt the sky itself darkened. My vision filled with fiery red mist and heat shimmer. I couldn't even see your figure clearly through all that. I truly don't know how that father-son pair managed to aim their shots..."
"This also reminded me of something. If we'd reinforced and thickened Erebor's main gate beforehand, that demon wouldn't have had any chance to escape outside, or reach these walls at all."
"Hahaha." Levi laughed with obvious awkwardness, a nervous sound that contained both discomfort and helplessness.
Thorin suddenly had a very bad premonition about what was coming.
Levi continued carefully, "Regarding that particular matter, I believe you'll have sufficient time to reinforce everything properly. Mm, including all of Erebor's interior, top to bottom. Actually, don't you think the original decor was becoming somewhat dated anyway? Those inns, markets, forges, great halls... all used continuously for thousands of years. Replacing and renovating them would probably be good for morale, right?"
"You have some valid points there. Things lasting thousands of years do prove their fundamental sturdiness. Wait a moment..."
Midway through his response, Thorin suddenly realized the implications.
He looked sharply at Levi, dawning horror on his face.
Levi pointedly averted his gaze toward the distant mountains.
At this moment, the dwarves still didn't know that Erebor had been thoroughly renovated into battle-damaged ruins by two extremely diligent combatants.
Not to mention the interior spaces. The exterior was a complete disaster zone.
Nearby rivers had evaporated into steam, trees were baked into charcoal husks, and Erebor's once-proud gate billowed with black smoke.
BOOM!
The great alarm bell above suddenly fell from its mounting, the crash shaking Thorin's brain until it buzzed.
The moment the Balrog's death was confirmed beyond doubt, dwarves throughout Dale erupted in jubilant celebration, jumping and cheering this legendary feat.
Some boldly approached the corpse, observing this terrifying monster up close with morbid fascination. Others gathered near Levi, bursting into spontaneous cheers of gratitude. Still more immediately headed for celebration, running toward taverns to drink freely in victory.
A joyous, lively atmosphere of survival and triumph.
Only Thorin and the senior leaders rushed back to Erebor first to assess the damage. They looked at their ancestral home with barely one intact surface from top to bottom, standing in stunned silence.
"They must have fought incredibly fiercely."
Glóin made a diplomatic assessment of the devastation.
Balin shrugged with dark humor, agreeing dryly, "Yes, Moria after its fall might actually be more structurally intact than this."
"If I hadn't witnessed the battle personally, I'd think the Balrog had fought an entire dragon inside here..."
Fíli scratched his head in bewilderment, looking at Thorin, who stood with lowered head, closed eyes, rubbing his temples in visible distress. "What do we do now about all this?"
"What else can we do?"
Thorin's voice trembled slightly with suppressed emotion.
He took a deep, steadying breath, then suddenly spread both hands in surrender.
"Let's go have a strong drink first."
"But what about repairing here?"
"We'll talk about it tomorrow!"
"All right then. Tomorrow it is."
