Dark_Peace
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Chapter 59: Blockade Again
🕑 Added 2025-06-28 04:00:00 +0000 UTC“They should be waiting for us,” Gandalf said, standing at the mist-choked pass.
“It was part of the plan,” he added.
“That’s the problem with plans,” Eric replied, eyeing the terrain warily. “They don’t account for rainstorms and goblin hospitality.”
The narrow pass through the Misty Mountains looked the same as last time—gloomy, treacherous, and entirely too quiet.
“Well,” Eric continued, “even if they didn’t wait, with this downpour, they’ll need shelter. That buys us time. We can catch up.”
“Hmm?”
Gandalf halted, his gaze falling on a cave just off the path.
“This used to be the front hall of Goblin-town. The goblins built it ages ago as a shortcut to ambush travelers. No one’s used this trail in years because of it.”
“I once tried to get a decently moral stone giant to collapse the entrance,” Gandalf muttered, half to himself. “Couldn’t get the bugger to understand what I meant. Communication issues. Left it be.”
As the old wizard recounted the history, he knelt and ran his hand along the damp earth.
“There are fresh traces here. The mechanism’s been triggered recently…”
His face darkened.
“That’s bad. Thorin and the others… they might’ve been captured.”
“Well, that’s just fantastic,” Eric sighed. “So what now? We storm the place?”
He stepped forward, tapping the wall and rapping the stone with his knuckles.
“Save your strength,” Gandalf advised. “Goblin-town’s front gates are designed to be opened from the inside. Very clever engineering.”
“But…”
A sly grin crept across Eric’s face as he reached into his satchel.
“I brought a diamond pickaxe. Fully enchanted. You just point the way.”
Gandalf inhaled sharply, stroking his beard. “Ah… yes. I forgot what you’re capable of.”
“This way!” he said, stepping aside.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk…
With practiced rhythm, Eric swung the glimmering pickaxe. Stone crumbled before him in perfect, rectangular cuts. A tunnel two meters high and clean as a dwarven hall extended rapidly into the earth.
Eric led the dig, while Gandalf followed behind, torch in hand.
“Wait,” Gandalf said suddenly. “We’re close. Let me scout ahead.”
Raising his staff, he struck the ground. A shimmering pulse of light radiated outward, bypassing dirt, rock, and rubble. It expanded through the cavern system until it illuminated the goblins within, who were, unsurprisingly—completely unaware.
It was a rare moment: Gandalf casting a wide-range detection spell. Normally, wizardly power was tightly restrained in Middle-earth, especially in front of mortals. But in Eric’s presence, those restrictions seemed... looser.
Not removed, mind you. If Gandalf were fully unleashed, he could probably level a mountain. After all, in the ancient War of Wrath, entire continents sank beneath the sea.
“There,” Gandalf said, pointing. “Fifty meters that way, then dig down.”
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk…
The enchanted pickaxe made short work of the stone. Before long, a flicker of light seeped through a crack.
Eric leaned forward and peered into the opening.
He’d breached the central chamber of Goblin-town.
A corpulent goblin chieftain sat smugly atop a rock platform, questioning thirteen dwarves who were ringed by sneering goblins.
Their confiscated weapons lay in a pile on the ground.
Not content with just weapons, the goblins were now rifling through their belongings, unearthing several elegant silver utensils and candleholders—each inscribed with ancient script.
“Second Age work from Rivendell?” the goblin king scoffed, tossing the antiques aside like junk. “Elven trash. Worthless.”
Apparently, one of the dwarves had been souvenir shopping in Rivendell. Goblin looting instincts were simply superior.
“Well, well, well,” the goblin king sneered, his fat face splitting into a grin. “Look what the wargs dragged in. Thorin Oakenshield himself!”
“Your head’s got quite a price tag,” he said, licking his lips. “Dead or alive.”
“Send word to Azog! The dwarf-king’s mine!”
One goblin scurried away with the message.
Just as the king turned back, another goblin picked up a sword from the pile.
The moment the blade slid free from its sheath, he let out a horrified shriek and flung it away like it was cursed.
The goblin king glanced at the sword—and immediately went pale. He stumbled backward, accidentally trampling a scrawny underling.
“Biter!” he cried. “That’s Biter! The sword that’s slit a thousand goblin throats!”
Whoosh—
The crowd of goblins scattered, leaving a wide ring of empty space around the blade. None dared touch it.
Even though its former owner had long since perished, the sword’s reputation remained intact.
“You filthy lot!” the goblin king roared, half in fear and half in fury. “Torture them! Flay them! I want their skins peeled and their heads mounted!”
Crack!
A whip lashed down on one of the dwarves.
Another goblin tackled a dwarf, fists flying. One raised a jagged bone-blade, ready to finish the job—
“We move now!” Gandalf declared.
Without hesitation, the old wizard leapt down into the chamber.
The drop was dizzying. Even Eric, with fall damage resistance, would've hesitated.
“Mad man,” Eric muttered, biting into a golden apple before following.
BOOM!
Just before Eric could jump, a blinding white explosion erupted from below. A powerful shockwave blasted outward from Gandalf's landing, scattering goblins like autumn leaves.
The king’s ornate stone-and-iron throne was shattered, sending his massive body tumbling with a yelp of pain.
When the light faded, no one stood but Gandalf.
All nearby goblins were unconscious, flattened, or simply missing. Even the king was groaning from the floor.
“Gandalf…” Thorin opened his eyes.
The wizard drew his sword. The fire-ring on his hand glowed faintly.
“Arm yourselves. We fight!”
The dwarves surged to reclaim their weapons, hearts rekindled.
“That sword… that’s Glamdring!” the goblin king cried. “The Foe-Hammer!”
Say what you will about goblin royalty, but he certainly knew his lore. Gandalf might not have recognized every ancient weapon, but this goblin king? Practically a walking museum docent.
Then again, goblins could live quite a while. Azog himself had been around for over two centuries.
“Get them!” the king bellowed, raising a skull-tipped staff. “Kill the wizard and the dwarves!”
The initial shock wore off quickly. Waves of goblins surged forward, surrounding the company on all sides.
“Fourteen of us,” Thorin muttered grimly, “thousands of them.”
Just then—
SLAM!
A black-clad figure dropped from the opening above, sword blazing. With a single sweep, he carved a clear zone around him, goblins flying like bowling pins.
“It's him!” the goblin king howled, stumbling backward.
“That savage human—Orc-Bane!”
Eric stepped forward, eyes glinting.
He swung again. The blade skimmed a goblin’s throat—and the creature simply froze, eyes darting in terror, body no longer listening to commands.
Eric gave it a gentle pat on the head.
Thunk.
A head rolled.
This blade was far sharper than any normal weapon—its minimum damage was twelve, but realistically? Most foes didn’t even get a second chance.
At the tunnel mouth, Eric stood like a dark knight, each sword arc sweeping goblins off their feet like a reaper in the wheat field.
Every fallen goblin collided into the next, causing a domino effect.
This, Eric thought, is the true power of Sweeping Edge.
He made a mental note to consider adding Knockback later. Maybe in this world, it wouldn’t be as useless as in the game.
Behind him, the dwarves glanced back in awe.
The space between them and Eric… was completely clear. No goblin dared approach.
“Don’t gawk! Move!” Gandalf barked, though even he stole a glance back.
The goblin king, now heavily guarded by a wall of his kind, kept his gaze locked on Eric’s sword.
He didn’t recognize it. He had never seen it before.
But now… now he’d learn it.
Eric lightly ran a hand along the glowing blade, watching the hesitant horde.
He raised his voice once more, calm and clear:
“Come on, then. Try and get past me.”
...
Fun trivia: In The Hobbit, both Gandalf and Gollum refer to the cave-dwelling creatures as goblins, while the surface-dwelling, war-loving brutes are often called orcs. Technically, both terms refer to the same species, but this chapter makes a clear distinction: Goblins are the smaller, sneakier cave dwellers; Orcs are the hardened warriors of the open wilds.
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