Late in the year 2941 of the Third Age.
This winter was shorter than usual, and nowhere near as terrifying as the snow that had once blanketed a thousand miles, but it was still one of the hardest winters of the age to endure.
Just as winter was about to pass, the snow covering the Great Wilderness began to melt. Spring had yet to arrive when the giant insects suddenly began growing at an alarming rate overnight. They also seemed to have gained a commander, deliberately cutting off communications and food shipments between various regions, avoiding attacks from the armies of the various nations while targeting smaller forces. Their strategy was meticulous and remarkably intelligent.
"Look, the commander of the giant insects we've been worried about—the high-level giant insect—has finally arrived." Thranduil gazed at the dense forest outside, his tone somehow even calmer than usual.
"Your Majesty." The guard was clearly worried.
"These fierce beasts have finally become the giant insect army we imagined. But we have divine envoys, and we've been preparing for this all along, haven't we?" Thranduil looked at the guard, seeming to reassure him with his words.
"Yes, my king. The glory of Ayn Kofinori is with us," the guard said.
What they did not know was that the God of Origin they worshiped was the one directing everything. This time, the God of Origin would not protect them too much. This was a disaster sweeping across Middle-earth. Their faith could at most reduce the harm they suffered a little—provided they were wise enough to understand the situation.
The snow on the plains of Rohan also gradually thinned, exposing the withered grass stems. The thin ice covering the wetlands of Lothlórien slowly melted into water, signaling that the bitter cold was about to leave.
At that