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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 322
🕑 Added 2025-11-13 18:27:04 +0000 UTCChapter 322: The Possibility of Restoration
“Feasibility report on a complete sweep of Angmar.”
In 2992, at Roadside Keep, Levi perked up as he read a new proposal from the ranger legions.
After decades of effort, and with Levi’s direct intervention, the Ettenmoors that border Angmar had been largely cleared years ago.
The mountain trolls and Orcs that once plagued that wildland had been hunted down, with the remainder driven deeper into the ranges.
As for the forest once named the Trollshaws between Roadside Keep and Rivendell, so called because trolls often roamed there in former days, the name no longer matched reality.
There were no trolls left.
This was not guesswork. Over the last few decades, rangers had swept that shadowed wood hundreds of times, and not one troll was seen.
It had been marked as a relatively safe area. Many merchants and travelers cut through to take a look, mainly to visit the three stone trolls frozen in terror.
So many came that the path from the roadside to the trolls’ camp had been trodden flat, becoming a foot-worn track.
Behind the Trollshaws lies the Ettenmoors, and beyond the Ettenmoors lies Angmar.
In the past, danger rose step by step across those three zones. No one wished to look twice, fearing some man-eater might lunge out in the next heartbeat.
But now the Trollshaws and the Ettenmoors had been thoroughly cleaned. The former was relatively safe, the latter largely empty of enemies and, for the most part, clear.
As for the final remnant, Angmar itself…
Even Levi felt a headache coming on as he read.
If one thought of these three regions as dungeons, then the Trollshaws would rate as a modest challenge. Find the right methods, and you could clear the foe safely.
The Ettenmoors behind it would rate as Hard. There lived many mountain trolls, plus Orcs and packs of Wargs that roamed in bands. Even with enough men, it demanded careful planning and sufficient preparation before any move.
Levi’s Long Wall works had lowered the difficulty a tier, giving the ranger legions a virtually unbreakable line of retreat.
After the Ettenmoors came Angmar.
In truth, the sweep of the Ettenmoors did not cost the rangers much time. For many years now, they had wracked their brains for ways to handle a place so dense with enemies.
From the mouth of a legion champion:
“Enemies are everywhere. Great ones, small ones, trolls, Orcs, Warg packs… move a hundred paces inward and it is like sinking in mire. When you finally hack down the foes in front of you and raise your head, there are eyes on the slopes, in the trees, in the pits, ahead and behind. It makes your scalp prickle.”
Angmar’s difficulty was Inferno.
According to the Feasibility Report on a Complete Sweep of Angmar, if one wished to minimize losses and take the smoothest course in war, it would take a further ten years of grinding before launching the final purge.
That was the lowest cost plan. A more aggressive approach could greatly shorten the time.
Levi never adopted aggressive plans that risked heavy losses.
“There is no need to rush. Nothing is driving us from behind.”
He closed the report with that summary.
“Value your lives. Misplaced haste is not worth needless harm.”
Roadside Keep’s way was conservative.
Very conservative.
Though in the eyes of many beyond, it seemed radical enough to scrape the sky.
In this age, no power but the Free Cities would even contemplate wiping out the mountain trolls and the lairs of masses of Orcs and Wargs down to the root.
Just imagining the manpower consumed would numb the mind. After such a war, there would be no strength left to grow, only to disband and drop from a realm to a tribe.
As the wanderers had done.
“Speaking of it…”
One night on the wall, Levi found Falodan, who happened to be at Roadside Keep for rest.
He was still watching the stars.
“You have met Aragorn, have you not?”
“I have, and I have seen the Star of Elendil.”
Falodan smiled broadly.
“Once more, thank you. Truly.”
Levi clapped his shoulder.
“You and I need not say things that make my skin crawl.”
He returned to the point. “What do you make of Aragorn?”
“He is a leader one can trust.”
Falodan’s answer was certain and crisp.
Levi nodded and said no more.
Silence settled on the wall.
After a moment, Levi said, “Have you ever thought of restoring a kingdom?”
“Restoring…?”
“Yes. To rebuild Arnor. Rebuild your realm.”
At that, Falodan’s gaze drew in and fixed on Levi.
“You know you are called the Lord of the North.”
“Of course.”
“Then you know that while Arnor still stood, it was called the Northern Kingdom.”
“These do not conflict.”
Falodan fell silent.
Indeed, the whole of the Lone-lands was directly administered by the Free Cities, and a wide ring around them had come under their cities’ reach, growing peaceful.
Yet Levi had not pressed on with sweeping expansion or proclaimed more lands his own.
Minhiriath is north of the Shire on the sea. The Barrow-downs, the North Downs, the South Downs, and Bree set between.
Those places had once been Arnor’s lands, dotted with the ruins of the kingdom’s cities, forts, and watchtowers.
Levi had left those landmarks untouched.
“I have always remembered. That was your home.”
Not just Levi—people remembered, and even the libraries of the Shire recorded that the Kingdom of Arnor fought for the Free Peoples. They resisted the Witch-king’s Angmar with all their strength until they broke themselves and dissolved.
The Witch-realm in turn was beaten to ruin, its remnant scattering to skulk and survive.
One could call it mutual destruction.
As for why the Shire’s histories remembered this, one must note that the hobbits took part. They sent a company of archers to aid in the war.
It was fit and right. The Shire itself had once belonged to Arnor, and later, by grant of the then-king of Arnor, the hobbits settled there.
The king asked only that the hobbits maintain roads and bridges, swear fealty, and let the king’s messengers pass unimpeded.
There was no more to it.
That the hobbits had marched to the war against Angmar must have surprised the Dúnedain of Arnor somewhat.
Those people were braver than they seemed, and always had a way to brighten the eyes of those who looked down on them.
“If that day comes, I will lend my support.”
“As a return to the wanderers of these lands, and to your chieftain who has served at my side for so long.”
