Transmigrate to the world of The Lord of the Rings?

So, in the end, nothing changed," Aldril thought calmly, though his expression told a different story. His furrowed brow hardened his handsome features, reflecting the frustration he felt.

The dwarves didn't look much different. Some muttered curses into the air, while others preferred the heavy silence of resignation.

"Did Thorin really say that?" Dwalin asked, his face downcast, casting furtive glances at Balin. His voice was low, as if he feared hearing the answer. But when he saw the bruise on his brother's cheek, he decided not to press further. "Thorin, what's happening to you?" he thought bitterly.

Unaware of Dwalin's thoughts, Balin nodded solemnly, his eyes heavy with the weight of a difficult truth.

"Yes, but there's no time for explanations," he replied urgently, his voice vibrating with the intensity of the situation. With a quick motion, he grabbed Bilbo by the arm and pushed him toward Aldril.

"Aldril, leave now. Take Bilbo with you," he urged, glancing around as if fearing someone might overhear. "If Thorin sees him, he'll explode with rage, and Dáin's dwarves won't show the same mercy as we do."

Balin's voice, though aged, gained an unusual fluency, as if desperation had given it strength. His eyes locked with Aldril's, silently pleading for understanding.

Bilbo, surprised by the brusqueness, looked at Aldril for answers. But Aldril had already made up his mind. With a firm motion, he grabbed Bilbo and, in a decisive gesture, hoisted him onto Shadowstar, his loyal steed.

The horse neighed in protest, its ears flicking back momentarily, but being the intelligent creature it was, it quickly grasped the urgency.

Wasting no time, Aldril made an agile leap, rising into the air with a grace that seemed to defy gravity. He landed softly on Shadowstar's back, like a feather settling on the wind. With quick pats on the horse's neck, he spoke with a mix of urgency and confidence: "Let's go, friend. Get us out of here as fast as you can."

Shadowstar didn't hesitate. With a powerful bound, the horse began an unstoppable gallop, its hooves thundering against the ground like hammers on stone, each step an echo of power resounding through the nearby mountains.

Before the wind could carry him away from the scene, Aldril glanced back at the dwarves one last time.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, his voice firm but laced with a warning. Then, fixing his gaze on Balin, he added, "And be careful with Thorin."

Without another word, Shadowstar shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. Its gallop was a spectacle of strength and grace, the sound of its hooves a testament to its might.

Only a few minutes had passed when Aldril left Erebor's gates behind. Yet a chill ran down his spine. A persistent feeling made him glance back slightly, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

There stood Thorin, high above, his gaze fixed on him. His blue eyes resembled a stormy sea, his face shifting between an expression of contained calm and a distortion of rage or despair.

"What could Thorin be thinking?" Aldril wondered briefly, before discarding the thought. Whatever was going through the mind of the King Under the Mountain was not his concern, at least not for now.

---

His arrival in the valley did not cause a stir; a few days ago, they had gotten used to the presence of this wonderful man. Despite this, occasionally some fans would exclaim, "Dragon Hunter!" comments to which he would soon grow accustomed.

On the back of his loyal friend Shadowstar, Bilbo lay stunned. Everything had happened so suddenly that he hadn't had time to regain his senses. It wasn't until Aldril stopped that he reacted.

'What have I done?' he lamented. His eyes, glassy from disappointment, closed, his lashes fluttering. A small groan of sadness escaped him. "What have I done?" he repeated aloud this time.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Bilbo," Aldril reassured the little hobbit, who burst into soft sobs, which were heard by the wizard Gandalf, who was approaching them with concern etched on his elderly face.

"For the love of all the Valar, what has happened?!" Gandalf exclaimed, drawing the attention of some men nearby, who quickly averted their gaze, thinking it was just a drama that wasn't of their concern.

His staff glowed with a dim light, calming the sorrowful heart of the little hobbit, who wiped his hands from his face, revealing the dried tears and snot. Seeing his two friends together was like a flame that warmed him in the cold winter.

"My friends, Aldril, Gandalf," he said, opening his arms like a little child seeking comfort. He quickly jumped off Shadowstar, his feet nimble as a cat, running toward Gandalf. "I ruined it, Gandalf, I caused Thorin's madness," he said, as Gandalf gently patted his back in an act of genuine concern.

"No, my dear friend, I'm afraid Thorin's madness has been inside him for a long time," Gandalf explained, consoling the weeping hobbit. "But I'm curious, why do you say it's your fault?"

Bilbo, a little recovered, took a step back, ashamed of his childish behavior. It was an embarrassment to him. How could a hobbit his age act like such a child? Everyone in Hobbiton would laugh at him if they knew about it.

Small snot marks were left on Gandalf's gray tunic, but the wizard simply tapped his staff lightly. In an instant, the tunic was once again shining, something Bilbo had longed to learn; it would help him immensely in his chores.

But he shook his head, clearing those thoughts and focusing on what Gandalf had asked. At first, he hesitated, but after a breath, he looked at the old man and recounted everything in detail, leaving Aldril stunned. He exclaimed, "You gave the Heart of the Mountain to Thorin?!"

Bilbo, with his head down in sadness, nodded. "Yes, but Thorin said I had stolen it and tried to kill me," he explained, causing Aldril's surprise to take a step back. Many things had changed, so this didn't affect him much. What was important now was how Thorin would recover.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Bilbo," Gandalf said, unaware of Aldril's thoughts. "You did what you thought was right, and that's fine. Now, go rest. Tomorrow will be a very busy day, and who knows if we will survive."

"Yes, it doesn't matter, Bilbo. Now just try to rest," Aldril said, giving the hobbit a pat on the shoulder and guiding him to his temporary resting place.

---

The night was not as peaceful as expected. Many were awake, nervous about what was to come, especially in an abandoned house where Aldril was resting. His company consisted of a hobbit and an elderly wizard. Aldril and Gandalf were asleep, unlike Bilbo, who remained awake, deep in thought.

Had he made a mistake? Would it have been better not to give him the gem? Countless questions plagued the little hobbit's mind, who couldn't help but sigh. He wasn't in the mood for anything now. He simply closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He had already given the storage ring to Aldril, who had gratefully accepted it. He still hadn't told him about the helm and the gems he had stored, as he wasn't in the mood for that either.

With that, the little hobbit fell asleep. Only the silence and the soft crackling of the torches echoed through the air. By dawn, many were asleep, exhausted despite their anxiety.

It didn't take long for the soft, dim light of the morning sun to illuminate the ruined streets of the valley. Many were already awake, alert to any anomaly. The elves were already in position, accompanied by some men, including Aldril, who was beside Thranduil's son, Legolas.

They were joined by Gandalf, who was reciting a long chant. It had just dawned, but many were already preparing for the inevitable. At the top of the walls, Bard, along with a group of men, finished the last preparations when a deafening horn sounded.

"The horn of the scouts!" murmured Bard, a warning of what was to come. "To your positions, hurry!" His command was met by the nervous men, who quickly stopped what they were doing. Some had been eating breakfast and left their food half-finished, while others had been relieving themselves and had to pull up their pants without cleaning themselves.

In the distance, elven scouts rode, shouting in Elvish, "Orcs to the southeast (Yrch an-ninglor)." Thranduil, who had positioned himself with his legion, loudly indicated the direction to aim. The elves, demonstrating their great training and discipline, simultaneously aimed in the indicated direction.

"Try not to die, Aldril. Tauriel would be very sad," said Legolas, who was met with a smile from Aldril.

"You too, or Sigrid will cry, and I doubt Bard will forgive you for making his daughter cry," Aldril replied, both laughing at the unspoken understanding between them.

It didn't take long to spot in the distance a black mass moving, as if the very darkness were making its way across the flat terrain. There, an orc army moved in formation, their spears held high, signaling their intent, Death, and only death!

"Prepare yourselves!" Bard shouted, causing his men to draw their bows, ready to release a storm of arrows at the orcs. The orcs, with their horrific faces, stared at the valley and Erebor, roaring and growling in provocation. The trolls at the front growled even more fiercely, trying to intimidate the small humans entrenched in the ruined city.

In Erebor, Dain and his men, led by Thorin, were ready. Their tools were prepared to be fired, and their war pigs were ready to charge if ordered. The dwarves of the expedition, now armed with luxurious armor, were serious, there was no time for fun.

It wasn't until the orc host got closer that Bard and Thranduil, without hesitation, ordered to open fire. Countless arrows rained down, darkening the sky and blocking the orcs' view. The ones at the front had no time to react before being pierced like hedgehogs, significantly reducing the number of orcs at the front.

Chaos and death had broken out. The Battle of the Five Armies had just begun. The Warg clan arrived at the rear, waiting for orders. They were not as foolish as the first orcs, who had allowed themselves to be killed so easily.

Azog was nowhere to be seen, and Aldril couldn't remember where he might be. But now, that didn't matter. What mattered now was continuing to defend the valley, halting the orc advance, and reducing their numbers as quickly as possible before they were overwhelmed.

***

Filthy orcs!

Let's start the war!

15 advance chapters un "[email protected]/Mrnevercry"