Hill Giants

"Full speed ahead! We're a day behind them!" Roland urged.

"My lord, there's really no need to worry too much. They don't have horses, and we're much faster than they are," Caslo reassured Roland.

In return, everyone looked at him as though he were an idiot. Following their gazes, Caslo looked over and froze. Good grief... two hundred fully armed Swift River Infantry were trudging along with their spears in hand and shields on their backs.

"Fine! Pretend I said nothing!" Caslo said helplessly.

Incidentally, the Swift River Infantry were not named for Swift River merely because they were recruited in its region. More importantly, they trained quickly, were physically strong, and possessed remarkable endurance. Long-distance forced marches were their specialty, though that did not mean they could match cavalry in speed.

Carlos: I feel offended.

"Boom—" Thunder rumbled through the sky as silver serpents coiled among the clouds.

"A torrential downpour is coming!" Reno said gravely.

"Perhaps everyone should take shelter from the rain and rest for a while." Roland looked up at the sky.

"Whoosh—boom!" A massive boulder suddenly fell from the sky and crashed down not far from Roland's group. Everyone hurriedly raised their shields against the shards of stone spraying everywhere.

"We're under attack! Stay alert!" Caslo was the first to react.

"Holy shit! Look up there!" Roland casually glanced toward the nearby valley, then nearly fell apart on the spot.

"Hill Giants!"

"Run!" Reno shouted.

Everyone immediately wished their parents had given them two more legs as they desperately fled out of the valley.

"How the hell could there be Hill Giants here? Weren't Hill Giants extinct?" Caslo said wretchedly, rainwater and dust mixing into muddy streams that ran down his body.

"Who the hell knows? This is ridiculous!" Reno said frantically.

"Are Hill Giants part of the evil faction or the lawful faction?" Roland could not help asking.

"They're neutral! Those brutes only know how to live their own quiet little lives. By all rights, they should have gone extinct in the First Age!" Reno said in confusion.

"Maybe they're survivors." Caslo looked back at the noisy valley with lingering fear.

"If I didn't see wrong just now, were they playing catch with mountaintops?" Roland asked curiously.

"Yeah. Those brutes especially love throwing rocks around during thunderstorms. Our luck is truly incredible..." Reno sighed.

Wait! Roland froze. Were those the stone giants from The Hobbit who played by throwing rocks? Roland had taken a glance just now. By his estimate, those Hill Giants were at least fifty meters tall. Every movement they made carried the force of world-ending destruction... Damn, that was terrifying. Thinking about how they had just passed right by them, cold sweat broke out on Roland's back.

"My lord, we can't go forward..." Reno frowned.

"It really is too dangerous. Don't worry, I won't disregard my people's lives. The Lagrange Empire is still waiting for me to restore it. After all, I'm the last Lord of Lagrange." Roland nodded, affirming Reno's judgment.

"Have everyone rest, and keep a sharp watch. We're already in the Misty Mountains. Orcs could attack at any time!" Roland ordered.

"Yes, my lord!" Reno turned and left.

Caslo had also set up the tent by then. He hurriedly escorted Roland inside to keep him from getting soaked and catching a chill.

"My lord, which route should we take today?" Caslo asked.

"Tomorrow, we'll see whether the stone giants have left. If they're still playing there, we can only take a detour. After all, we can't defeat them." Just thinking of those stone lumps gave Roland a headache.

Lying in bed, Roland tossed and turned, unable to sleep. This world was clearly somewhat different from the original novel, movies, and game. Perhaps because there were no players, the Middle-earth that had once followed the Ring System Game setting had fused with the original work, becoming some bizarre hybrid world.

"God, have mercy on me. Please don't mess with me anymore! Nothing can go wrong with the Battle of Five Armies." Roland prayed.

He could clearly feel that, because of his involvement, the number of pursuing Orcs had increased. Perhaps the enemy's troop strength in this Battle of Five Armies would be greater than he had expected.

"Maybe it's because I changed history and touched an important timeline." Roland pondered.

"We can't keep traveling with them!" Roland suddenly sat up.

"Something has to change. Since I can't reverse history, I'll change history! I'll arrive on the battlefield as reinforcements! Let this war become the Battle of the Six Armies." Roland made up his mind.

"Sleep, sleep. Staying alive comes first. If I'd known, I wouldn't have run out in the middle of the night. Rivendell was so nice, and it even had beautiful elf girls." Roland said regretfully.

After all, he had not stayed in Rivendell for long. He had not even had time to stroll around, experience the local customs, or perhaps do something enjoyable with a beautiful elf girl...

"Ah! What a pity! What a regret!" Roland deeply regretted it. Thinking about it now, what the hell did Thorin and the others have to do with him? He had merely wanted to find some reliable allies and make a little money along the way... Besides, Dain Ironfoot was an honest man. It would not be bad to let him become King Under the Mountain, just as history had it. Bard the Dragon Slayer was also someone worth befriending, and the Dale he had rebuilt possessed at least some potential for war.

Roland planned to first build a city in the Swift River region and establish the framework of the Lagrange Kingdom. That should let him harvest another wave of system rewards. At the thought of the rewards, Roland's delighted little devil tail practically wagged.

"Time is running out... I probably won't be able to gather a thousand men before the battle begins." After doing the math, Roland felt somewhat regretful.

"One Ring, One Ring! I'm not asking for a thousand men. Just give me another hundred Swift River Infantry. At least let me make up the three hundred men needed for the Swift River battle formation." Roland muttered to the One Ring on his hand.

Meanwhile.

"Gandalf! Think of something!" Everyone, driven up a pine tree by the Wargs, looked anxiously at Gandalf.

An obscure incantation rang out, and a hexagram magic circle formed before Gandalf.

"Go!" Gandalf opened his eyes and swung his staff. Dozens of fireballs the size of human heads shot from the hexagram, instantly turning more than a thousand square meters of land ahead—along with the Orcs and Wargs upon it—into scorched earth.

"Well done, Gandalf!" everyone cheered. After all, an advanced spell—Meteor Shower—had given them courage and confidence.

"Uh, gentlemen, I think we should wait before celebrating... It seems the Orcs ahead don't want us to be too happy..." Bilbo stammered.

"Oh! By the god of forging!"

"My heavens..."

Under the starlit sky, a black mass of Orc Warg Riders closed in. At their head was none other than the Pale Orc, Azog!

"Impossible!" Thorin went rigid.

"This one is mine! Kill all the others!" Azog roared.

"Fire-mark!" Just as in history, Gandalf began another baffling human maneuver—setting pinecones on fire.

Everyone lit the pinecones in their hands and hurled them at Azog and the other Orcs.

"Roar!" Seeing the Wargs blocked by flames and too afraid to advance, Azog let out an enraged roar.

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