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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 22
🕑 Added 2025-07-10 02:32:32 +0000 UTC"Scrub, scrub, scrub away..."
Inside the cave, Garrett poured a bucket of water, grimaced, and placed the grime-covered rod into the puddle. He beat and knocked on it with effort, then scrubbed it vigorously until most of the accumulated filth finally came off. Moments later, as the grime on the sword's blade completely fell away, he looked at the now gleaming, radiant sword, unable to contain his joy.
At that moment, the "Filthy" tag had vanished from the sword, and the item description officially changed to [Ancient Elven Blade].
Attack +9.
"Holy crap!"
Two points stronger than a diamond sword! Basically equivalent to a diamond sword with Sharpness III.
He had really struck gold this time.
But this Ancient Elven Blade... if it had both "elven" and "ancient" in the name, it must really be old. After all, elves had endless lifespans. What might be a centuries-old family heirloom to Men could still be younger than their everyday cutlery. This thing probably dated back at least to the previous age, or even the one before that.
You had to admit, the forging techniques of Middle-earth were truly extraordinary. Some weapons didn't fade or corrode even after thousands or tens of thousands of years.
After cleaning the sword, he glanced at the puddle, now murky with floating grime, then looked at the empty bucket in his inventory.
Forget it, this water's no good anymore.
Looking at the glowing sword still emitting light in his inventory, he felt that this journey had definitely been worthwhile. This one blade alone was far more valuable than any gold or silver.
Wait a moment.
He suddenly noticed something.
Has it been... glowing this whole time?
A sense of danger surged in his chest. He immediately went on high alert, quickly left the cave, crouched down, and hid in the shadows of the nearby undergrowth, scanning his surroundings.
Rustle rustle...
Sure enough, not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed. An orc almost ran right past him, heading toward another orc mounted on a warg, and immediately began reporting:
"I saw firelight in a cave over that way."
"Don't worry about it. That's troll territory."
"Yes," the orc retreated.
The warg beneath the orc twitched its nose and looked around, seemingly uneasy.
"What is it? Smell something?"
Its crimson eyes darted back and forth before finally locking onto a patch of shadows beneath the bushes.
Sometimes, Garrett really hated these wargs. These beasts not only had noses sharper than hounds but could also climb trees and scale walls.
Following the gaze of the passing orc, he quickly spotted a small squad of orc cavalry not far away. A rough count: about twenty warg-riders.
Gripping the sword in his hand, he assessed the combat strength on both sides.
This might be challenging.
If he had diamond armor on, he would have the confidence to take them head-on. Even if he couldn't win, the full protection of diamond gear would at least let him force his way out. But iron armor... it just wasn't sufficient. Truth be told, his combat experience wasn't exactly extensive, and his skills weren't masterful either. Aside from handling trolls, most of his fights were just slugfests. Once the enemy count went above ten, he'd start to feel overwhelmed.
Should I retreat?
No way. I just got this blade, how could I let it go to waste like this?
I've got to take them out!
However, most Minecraft veterans, when facing a large group of enemies, didn't choose to fight head-on. Seeing a warg heading in his direction, he quietly withdrew, moving away from the area.
The warg dove into the bushes, but only found some lingering scents.
"Something was here?" the orc squad leader asked.
The warg panted, which seemed to count as confirmation.
"Stay vigilant."
---
Elsewhere, after departing, Garrett immediately pulled out his shovel. He started digging a tunnel system nearby.
Meanwhile, the squad of warg-riders continued advancing, unaware that Garrett, having finished his tunnels, was now silently following their trail.
"That direction... should be the Misty Mountains."
The orcs were probably heading back to their stronghold. But today would not go smoothly for them.
Garrett quietly drew the glowing Ancient Elven Blade and suddenly burst from the undergrowth, leaping into the air with a vicious slash.
Thud!
A heavy, crushing sound rang out, it was a solid critical hit. The last orc rider in the group was instantly killed by the blow, taken out in a single strike. The warg beneath him didn't escape death either. Perhaps the warg's hide wasn't all that tough, or perhaps the blade was just absurdly sharp. With his full-force swing, the sword actually sliced the warg clean in half. The poor beast let out a pitiful howl before dying on the spot.
"Enemy attack!"
The riders up front finally realized what was happening. One of them roared and charged at Garrett, raising his scimitar.
In an instant, Garrett pulled out a shield with his left hand and blocked the incoming strike, knocking the orc back. Not bothering to stay and fight, he turned and fled, taking advantage of the confusion as the main group began to wheel around. Of course, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't outrun a warg. Even with a head start, the beast closed in quickly.
Just as it was about to catch up, he suddenly leaped into a thicket. The warg lunged in after him. But in the next moment, it froze in confusion. There was no sign of a human in the clearing, no footprints, no movement, nothing. As if he had vanished into thin air.
The rest of the orc troop soon arrived.
"Where did that scum go?!"
The orc squad leader snarled, scanning the area furiously. The warg sniffed the ground, but all it picked up was the fresh scent of overturned earth.
Not far away, Garrett pushed aside a patch of dirt and climbed out of a hidden tunnel.
"What was that?"
A scout went to investigate. After scanning the area, the only odd thing he noticed was a perfectly square patch of freshly turned soil.
Who in blazes is farming out here?
While the orc scout was still confused, a flash of silver light streaked past. The warg beneath him gave a pained yelp and collapsed instantly. The orc scout fell to the ground, only to be run through the chest the moment he landed. Executed on the spot.
"He's over there!"
The noise of the attack wasn't exactly subtle. Another orc quickly spotted Garrett. But as a group of riders stormed over furiously, they found, once again, no trace of him.
Thud.
Garrett had dropped back into the tunnel, immediately sealing the entrance behind him and heading to another exit.
"Damn human!"
The squad leader growled in frustration. He just couldn't figure out how such a large person could vanish into thin air.
"Ahh!"
Just then, another scream rang out from the rear, yet another rider had been ambushed and taken down.
"Over there!"
"Where'd he go?!"
"Aaagh!"
Just turning their heads was enough for a flash of light to cut through the chest of the last isolated orc.
"There's more than one enemy!"
The squad leader now realized the gravity of the situation. The strange, coordinated ambushes couldn't be the work of just one person, there had to be more. But probably not many. If they were confident in a frontal assault, they wouldn't be relying on sneak attacks.
"Cowards! If you've got the spine, come out and fight face-to-face!"
But there was no response. Garrett quietly pushed aside the dirt above, replaced the cover, crouched in the grass, waited for the perfect moment, and lashed out with another sword strike.
"Found you!"
Whoosh!
A sharp sound tore through the air. Garrett felt a sharp pain in his chest, an arrow had struck him. After so many ambushes, even the dullest orcs had started to wise up.
"Hah hah hah!"
The orc squad leader laughed triumphantly.
"I'll gut you like a pig, eat your flesh, and drink your blood!" He hadn't even caught Garrett yet but was already fantasizing.
But Garrett, unfazed, cut down the orc in front of him, then calmly pulled the arrow from his chest and tucked it into his inventory.
"My thanks," he said. Then, as if completely uninjured, he turned and ran.
Whoosh!
Halfway through the dash, he flipped and dove into another thicket. The squad leader immediately felt something was amiss. When they rushed into the undergrowth, they once again found no trace of the human.
Staring at the undisturbed ground, a chilling sense of dread crept up in the squad leader's mind. These repeated vanishings were far too unnatural. There were likely numerous traps around. Staying here would just lead to more casualties.
The relatively sharp-minded orc leader made a quick decision, "We're withdrawing from here—gah!"
Before he could even finish his sentence, an arrow came out of nowhere and pierced straight through his shoulder armor, wounding him severely.
And the source of the arrow?
Right beneath his feet.
As a perfectly square hole and tunnel entrance appeared beneath him, the squad leader finally understood everything.
