When he opened his eyes, there was no one around Bilbo, and his eyes were as dark as if he had his eyes closed.
He heard nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing but the stone ground beneath his feet.
One can imagine the panic in our Hobbits’ hearts!
He only remembered that when the sudden change occurred, everyone was surrounded and pinched by at least four or five dirty and smelly orcs. But soon, everyone ignored him, just like a group of people walking, and suddenly someone disappeared, no one thought it was strange.
Then he was pushed by a force. Bilbo thought it was some orc, but he wasn't sure.
Bilbo screamed, fell into the darkness, hit the hard rock, and remembered nothing.
God, Bilbo Baggins, this is the adventure you want, look, look, this thing is gonna kill you one day.
Bilbo thought with self-pity.
His palms were bruised, his knees were bruised, and his head hurt, but no one knew. The surroundings were dark, like a nightmare. So he began to miss the warm and comfortable home of Bag End again, hoping that someone would discover that a hobbit was lost.
Then pay tribute to him.
Finally, Bilbo sat up slowly, cold and frightened. But he finally got up the courage. He groped around on all fours until he touched the tunnel wall.
But he could find nothing above or below the wall: nothing, no sign of orcs, no sign of dwarves.
His head was so dizzy that he couldn't even determine which direction he was walking before he fell. He reluctantly guessed a direction, and then crawled a long distance in that direction until his hand suddenly touched a small ring on the ground that seemed to be made of cold metal.
This was a turning point in his life and a turning point in Middle-Continent, but no one knew it at the moment.
Except Turka.
He knew that fate had chosen the Hobbit, just as fate had chosen him before.
Bilbo put the ring into his pocket without thinking. At the time, the ring seemed to have no special use. But in fact, this is the beginning of destiny.
Bilbo continued to grope. Suddenly, his hand touched the hilt of the short sword on his body - the one he had found from the Troll Cave before. Luckily it fell off too.
At this time, he pulled out the dagger, and the sword flashed pale and faintly in front of his eyes. "It turns out that this is also a weapon made by elves." He thought: "The orcs won't be too close, but they won't be too far either."
Regardless, the light gave him great hope.
Bilbo stood up, holding the dagger in front of him, holding one hand on the wall, and slowly groping forward, his heart beating loudly.
The tunnel seemed to have no end. The only thing he could be sure of was that the tunnel continued to go downwards. Although there would be a turn or one or two corners in the meantime, the general direction had not changed.
From time to time, Bilbo could be sure that there would be forks leading to both sides by the light of the sword in his hand or by touching the cave wall.
He kept walking and walking, going down. He heard nothing except the occasional bat snapping by his ear.
These sounds would startle him at first, but later he became accustomed to them after hearing them more often.
After an unknown amount of time, Bilbo was exhausted. He felt like he had already walked from today to tomorrow, even for several days.
His inner yearning for all good things supports him.
The light of Charles supported him.
Let him walk alone in the dark and lightless depths of the earth, until suddenly, without warning, Bilbo stepped into the water with a splash.
Well!
The water was freezing cold, making him shudder.
By this time, the sword had almost no light left. He stopped and listened attentively. He could hear the "tap-tap-tap" sound of water drops falling from the top of the cave into the pool below, but there seemed to be no other sounds other than that.
"It seems that this should be a pool or lake, not an underground river." Bilbo thought.
At this time, a pair of big eyes shining brightly in the darkness was staring at him from the corner.
ah.
This is Gulu.
A pitiful, but hateful guy.
He lives on a large rock in the middle of the lake and has not seen a living person for many years. Except for the orcs.
Out of some curiosity and desire for food, Gulu climbed on a raft that he used when fishing. He gently slid his fingers across the cold lake water and approached the lake quietly.
"My darling, a living piece of meat! A fine meal! Gulu!"
When he appeared in front of Bilbo with such a hissing whisper and gurgling in his throat, the hobbit almost jumped in fright.
"Who are you!"
Bilbo waved his dagger randomly, and Gollum was also startled by the elf-forged weapon. "I'm warning you, don't come near me. Yes, back off! Do you hear me? Back off!"
"Gulu, Gulu! He is not an elf, but he holds an elf sword. What on earth is he!"
When the two hobbits met in this fateful way.
The fate of another person has also come to an end.
When Turka left the north, he ordered Arasorn to be on guard against strangers who might be spies.
And this day.
Arathorn finally discovered a group of mysterious guys.
They were hooded, sneaky and mysterious. No one had ever seen them, but some people saw them in the fishermen's village near Nengweiao Lake in the middle of the night, and then disappeared again.
So, the Deputy Prime Minister immediately mounted his horse, ordered a group of guards, and chased after him.
Although he has not used a sword for many years, his bravery has never faded from him.
On the road, there are horse hooves.
The night breeze is cool.
Arazon looked solemn but determined.
He was thinking about who would appear in the north at this time. Thinking about the conspiracy contained in this incident.
The guards followed.
Sudden.
The sensitive nerves honed over many years as a ranger made his heart skip a beat. He leaned down and shouted: Be careful, there is an ambush.
The guards had not yet reacted.
The enemy stood up from behind a small hill. He held a crossbow in his hand, which glowed with a faint cold light.
"Don't let these stinky rangers get away." A familiar language sounded. It's an orc.
Led by a tall human, they attacked Arathorn and his guards. Arazon could even see a hint of dark skin color on the man's face.
"Black Númenóreans!"
This was the first thing Arazon thought of.
The enemy's arrows fell like raindrops, and several guards were shot in the face and fell from their horses with mournful screams.
"This is a conspiracy."
This was Arasorn's second thought.
Yes, Arasorn and the others encountered an ambush in a river valley more than ten miles away from Annuminas. It is thought that the person reporting to him was one of the slaves who was rescued. A sudden realization surged in Arazon's heart.
But more arrows flew towards Arathorn.
He no longer thought about the conspiracy, but drew out the royal sword of Arno and rushed forward heroically.
"If you think you can succeed like this, you are underestimating me." The King of Rangers danced his sword until water could not splash into it, and the autumn-like sword light almost covered the moon in the sky.
Arrows were shot down one after another by him.
His heroic demeanor even swayed his enemies.
Those orcs holding bows and crossbows pushed me and shouted, their eyes showing fear.
"kill him!"
The leader, the man in black robes with black Númenórean blood, shouted. These cowardly guys then bent their bows and nocked arrows again, preparing to shoot.
But Arathorn galloped up the hill and struck the leader of the black Númenóreans with his sword.
At this time, a tall wolf suddenly jumped up from behind the hill and pounced on Alasong who was on horseback.
Arasorn was caught off guard and fell to the ground hard.
He wielded his sword horizontally and pierced the short jaw of the evil wolf. The fierce light in the eyes of this ferocious beast gradually extinguished.
Recently, the wolf's fangs were almost at Arasorn's throat.
"Here you shall die, my kinsman from the north."
The man in black robe held a long black sword and said with a sinister smile: "The silver-white king can't save you! My master will return again!"
The fallen horse pressed down on his lower limbs, and Arazon was unable to break free for a while. The situation was very critical.
"grown ups!"
The guards rushed up the hill to protect him.
But there were too few of them.
Years of peaceful life have finally sharpened the Dúnedain's vigilance. He really shouldn't have waited for the elves before running out alone to track down the mysterious man.
The enemy comes prepared.
They attacked with crossbows and besieged with wolves. Soon, Arathorn and his guards were alone.
and.
At the head are the fallen Númenóreans, who are the same race as Arathorn's ancestors.
These Númenóreans were tempted by Sauron and hated the Elves and the Valar, and were called the Loyalists. He doesn't get along with the loyalists like Elendil.
After the island of Númenor sank into the sea, these fallen and rebellious nobles devoted all their hatred to the Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor in the south established by Elendil and his two sons.
These separatists and corrupted western humans eventually merged with the pirates of Umbar Port and became a cancer in the heart of Gondor.
For centuries, they have been entangled with the white city of Minas Tirith in the south, and countless wars have broken out between the two sides.
It is these men that Ecthelion now fights in Umbar.
But no one thought that as the Gondor army pressed forward step by step and Umbar retreated step by step, these depraved guys would dare to run to the north and carry out some kind of shady conspiracy.
They were not as brave as Arasorn and the others, and they had the advantage of the terrain, and were assisted by the arrows and crossbows of wolves and orcs.
Although the Dúnedain were not afraid of death, everything soon settled down.
Arathorn was hit by an arrow in the chest. The black arrow body and the poisonous arrowhead all proved that this poisonous arrow came from Mordor.
He knelt down on one knee, his sword hitting the ground, and a stream of black blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.
"You won't succeed!"
The Vice Prime Minister said his last words, and his once proud head hung down.
Around him fell a circle of Orcs and Black Númenóreans. Their corpses totaled nearly twenty people.
The guards who followed Arasorn all surrounded him heroically and fell to the ground facing outward.
More orcs fell around them.
"But you can't see it anymore."
The man in black robe said that he was holding a long sword and was trying to cut off Arasorn's head.
An arrow shot through the darkness and hit his sword accurately.
It's an elf.
Reinforcements finally arrived.
