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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 364
🕑 Added 2025-12-13 14:13:21 +0000 UTCChapter 364: Threefold Assault
“Why has Levi not come back yet?”
While Levi was venturing into the Northern Waste, Elrond and Glorfindel were waiting at a Free Cities outpost west of Dol Guldur, where they met Radagast the Brown.
The beast-loving wizard was one of the Free Peoples’ strongest sources of intelligence. Any bird or beast could be his eyes and ears. Even Saruman had been forced to rely on him for news, however much he might sneer at him in his heart.
They had long since agreed to gather here.
Now, a host strong enough to meet anything that crept out of Dol Guldur had assembled at the outpost, but one man was missing: Levi.
He was to be the spearhead of the rescue, and the army gathered here was also his to command; without him, little could be done.
Questioned about Levi’s absence, Radagast frowned, searching his memory.
“The Great Eagles tell me he went north,” he said. “Beyond the Grey Mountains.”
“Beyond the Grey Mountains… there is only one land I know of there,” Elrond said.
He stood in bright, finely worked mail, fully armoured for war. His brows drew together as he named a wide and bitter region.
“The Northern Waste.”
“That is no place for any to wander. What is he doing there?”
“I do not know,” Radagast said, shaking his head.
“Even the Eagles’ sight cannot pierce beyond those peaks. There is still some foul power clinging to that land, and the conditions are too harsh. No small creature lives there. No bird, no insect, no beast can cross it. I can learn nothing from it.”
“Then it seems he will not be back quickly,” Elrond said.
He thought a moment, then went on.
“But we must move as planned. If we wait too long, I fear some unforeseen turn.”
“Alarm. To arms!”
The shout and the crack of a warning rocket cut their talk short.
They lifted their heads as the outpost guards approached. In the forest, a tide of shadow was moving. Some shapes prowled along the ground, others swarmed through the branches, making the trees shake and rustle.
“They dare to strike first,” someone breathed.
The deputy commander chosen by Levi was already stepping forward to lead the counter-attack when the oncoming creatures suddenly wheeled.
They did not charge the Vale of Anduin outpost after all. They swung south instead, racing towards another target.
“No,” the deputy said at once.
He read their intent in a heartbeat.
That way lay the twin fortresses of the North Vales.
Their walls were not as mighty as the Vale‑city’s or Roadside Keep’s, but, as key crossroads, they were far from lightly held.
Judging by what was pouring out of Dol Guldur, even if one counted Orcs, Olog-hai, spiders, and Warg-riders separately, there could be no more than ten thousand of them. That made for a serious nuisance, but it was nowhere near enough to storm the two forts.
To put it bluntly, they would be throwing their lives away.
Yet after all these years, exposed day after day to Levi’s teaching and to the lessons of history, the deputy had learned one thing: the masters of the Orcs were no fools.
They did not do things for nothing. If one of their hosts went to die, it was either to buy some greater gain, or…
It was only one of several attacking armies.
An Eagle’s cry rang out overhead. Radagast looked up as a Great Eagle wheeled down and alighted, bringing news.
“So that is it,” the deputy murmured.
It was not only Dol Guldur. Mordor had unsheathed its claws as well. From the Black Gate, a great army was marching west and north across the Brown Lands, aiming straight at the twin forts. Flying above them were several Nazgûl.
Dol Guldur in front. Mordor behind. A pincer from two sides.
But not only two.
The Eagle went on.
“Wait…” the deputy said.
“I can understand Mordor’s troops. But you say a strong Orc host has swung round along the edge of Fangorn, slipped past Rohan’s patrols, and reached the North Bridge?”
“Where in all Arda did that lot come from? Are we looking at a three-way strike?”
Even Elrond and Glorfindel were at a loss for a moment.
“It seems Levi’s realm is in some trouble,” Elrond said at last.
He stepped forward.
“We cannot stand by.”
Glorfindel rose and nodded.
Mordor had chosen its time well. It just so happened that reinforcements were close at hand.
Strictly speaking, there were only two of them. But from the light that shone round even one, any Nazgûl who dared draw near would have to be counted very brave indeed.
“The Enemy’s numbers are beyond what we expected,” the deputy said.
And still Levi did not return.
Remembering the last orders Levi had given before he left, the deputy wasted no time. He marched out with the host, turning south with Elrond and Glorfindel to make for the twin fortresses of the North Vales and shore up their defence.
At the same time, all Rhovanion began to rouse.
In a matter of days, the whole of the lands east of the Misty Mountains were in a state of war.
Meanwhile, in the Northern Waste.
Following the urging in his heart, Levi kept going until nearly all the rockets in his pack were spent. Only then did he drop from the sky again and walk the last stretch on foot, coming at last to his destination.
It was a great pit, a vast shaft that sank into endless dark. If you dropped a stone in, no sound ever came back.
It was that deep.
At the ragged edge of the darkness, something was climbing up.
Ancient malice blasted from the depths of the pit like a wind, straight through the top of his skull.
For the first time in a long while, Levi felt a prickle of battle hunger. His body tightened, just a little.
Shing.
He drew the Dragonflame Steel greatsword and swept the creatures clambering up back into the hole. They fell away, burning, tumbling into the dark, but still no sound ever rose from below. It was as if they were falling forever.
“This is not good,” he said at last.
He could not go on like this. He could not let them climb forever.
After a moment’s thought, he sheathed the sword and pulled out a pickaxe instead, and set to work cutting stone.
Half a month later, the pit was sealed. Above it rose a new fortress, and inside its walls a few dozen iron golems paced their rounds. They would stand guard here, on and on, over this place.
Here, where no one came, where only the wind and snow passed, in a land barren and cold and cruel.
“That will do for now,” Levi said.
It was not that he was unwilling to make more golems; he had simply not brought enough iron. Even the pumpkins had to be grown on the spot.
Thud, thud…
Blows sounded from beneath the fortress. Levi knew this was no lasting answer.
So he took a deep breath, clenched his fists once, then lifted a torch and stepped into the black throat of the pit, heading down.
No one could have said how long he walked. Not even Levi himself could reckon it clearly.
Here, everything was the opposite of the snowfield above. Where the Waste was nothing but white, the shaft was pure darkness. Only the path at his feet could be seen.
In that depth, Levi was the only source of light.
Who knew how many eyes turned towards him, only to draw back again out of some primal fear, or for other, darker reasons. None dared rush him.
The dull march went on and on.
At last, when even Levi’s legs were beginning to feel numb, a faint glow shone ahead from the depths of the earth.
