Chapter 256: The Invasion of the Dark Army
When the three returned to the town, the sky had gradually darkened. Based on Elvin's memories, George greeted familiar faces with practiced ease.
After a simple meal at the tavern and tasting the unique wine of this world, he waved goodbye to Al and Appa and returned to the small house that belonged to him.
"Fortunately, this avatar no longer has any family; otherwise, it would be quite troublesome to deal with."
He pushed open the door, entered the house, cast a cleaning spell to tidy it up, and then sat on the bed to begin meditating.
Elvin's father was also a hunter, but when Elvin was twelve, his father was killed on the spot while attempting to hunt an Alawu Bison.
The Alawu Bison is said to be a descendant of the Alawu Bull under the great hunting god Oromë. It possesses massive white horns, and horns made from it are worth a fortune.
Had the hunt succeeded, Elvin's father would have become a hero among the human tribes, and his status would have risen sharply.
Unfortunately, he failed.
Elvin's mother was overwhelmed with grief and passed away within two years, leaving Elvin to live alone.
Unexpectedly, Elvin also died while hunting, allowing George to take over his body. One could only say that for ordinary people in such a fantasy world, the survival rate wasn't high.
"Meditation efficiency really is impressive!"
After only an hour, George felt the effect comparable to nearly three hours of meditation in other worlds.
Night descended, and the moon formed from the fruit of the Holy Tree slowly rose.
However, the moon tonight was not bright, as if a layer of black smoke had shrouded its light.
To the north of Gawsonian City lies the vast Adgarlan Plains, and at the end of the plains are numerous fortresses where the Noldor are stationed, stretching all the way to the foot of the mountains of Thangorodrim.
Opposite it is Angband, the stronghold of Morgoth, which has lain dormant for hundreds of years. It lies within the Iron Mountains, shrouded in poisonous mist and black smoke, making it impossible to see what lies inside.
To the left of Gawsonian is the towering Wiselin Mountains, under the domain of the second prince Fingolfin, who is also currently the High King of the Light Elves in Middle-earth.
The eldest prince Fëanor died as soon as he arrived in Middle-earth, and the third prince returned right after setting out, so only the second prince remains alive and active in Middle-earth.
To the right of Gawsonian is the Hill of Himring, guarded by the seven sons of Fëanor.
Together, these three forces form a perfect encirclement of Angband in the Iron Mountains, trapping Morgoth within.
Therefore, if Morgoth wants to unify Middle-earth, he must break through the joint defenses of the three factions.
And tonight, when the black smoke covered the moonlight, a massive evil golden dragon, an army of Balrogs, and the Orcs that Morgoth had bred for over four hundred years launched an attack on the three breaches simultaneously.
"It's the sound of a horn!"
George was awakened from his meditation by the deep and resonant horn outside.
This was no ordinary horn; it was the war horn of the House of Bëor.
He opened the door and stepped outside. Countless torches were being lit, and the chieftain, Bregralas, who was as strong as a bear, wore heavy armor made by Elves and shouted with a long spear in hand:
"The Elven city is under attack! Our House of Bëor has always been cared for by the Elves. Now it is time to repay that kindness!
All warriors, follow me to support the Elven city! The rest of you, pack up. If anything goes wrong, all the men will stay behind to hold the line. Women and children, retreat to the south!"
After quickly arranging everything, Bregralas led all eight hundred warriors of the town, riding fine steeds and charging with the resolve to die, heading toward the Elven city already rising in thick smoke.
"Looks like humans of this era truly are different."
Watching the eight hundred warriors of mankind roar without a trace of fear, George felt a small surge of emotion within.
The fearsome reputation of Morgoth was well-known in human legends. The fact that Bregralas and those eight hundred warriors chose to support the Elven city, fully knowing it meant certain death, was a decision made with full awareness.
They had even arranged for their aftermath.
If this had been in the future, it might have been a different story—perhaps they would have chosen to flee with all their kin.
After all, their small numbers wouldn't make much difference in the battle. With the powerful Light Elves holding off the enemy, retreating southward would most likely allow them to escape the war and find a safe place to live.
"Well, this is a perfect opportunity!"
George didn't see the attack on the Elven city as a stroke of bad luck; rather, he saw it as a golden chance to establish a relationship with the Elves.
If he could help them hold the central defense line, he would become a great benefactor to the Elves under the third prince's lineage. His plans to study magic and enchantment from them would basically be assured.
Anyway, Morgoth feared being caught by the gods again and wouldn't leave Angband on his own. Worst case scenario, he could just help a few key figures escape—no big deal.
"Elvin, Elvin, Old Jim is calling us to the northern part of town to set up defenses!"
At that moment, George's avatar's good friends, Al and Appa, ran over.
Their status in the town was that of hunters, not warriors, so they didn't need to support the Elven city but were to stay behind to defend the town.
If the Elven city fell, the remaining men like them would need to stall Morgoth's dark army, buying time for the women and children to evacuate. Now they needed to go to the northern part of town to set traps and defensive fortifications.
"Tell Old Jim I'm going to support the Elven city."
George smiled, spread his white wings behind him, waved at Al and Appa, and chased after Bregralas and the others who had already left.
"El… El… Elvin, how did he grow wings?!"
Al and Appa, along with the others busy in the surroundings, all stood frozen in place, staring at George flying away.
George wasn't flying slowly and quickly caught up to the troops ahead.
When Bregralas and the eight hundred warriors saw George suddenly appear overhead, they were startled. Fortunately, everyone recognized him—otherwise, arrows would have been loosed.
"Isn't that the hunter Elvin? How did he grow wings?"
Under the amazed gazes of the crowd, George flew up to ride alongside Bregralas.
"Chieftain, I've learned some magic. I want to help in the Elven city."
"Magic? I didn't expect you to have learned magic, boy! Good, you're a fine son of our House of Bëor! Come, charge with us!"
Upon hearing that George had learned magic, Bregralas no longer questioned the wings or his ability to fly. Instead, he laughed heartily and waved his spear.
As the chieftain of humans, he frequently visited the Elven city and had naturally seen all kinds of magic from the Light Elves. Some Elves could even turn into birds, so wings and flight seemed normal enough.
He just hadn't expected a human from his own tribe to have learned magic.
They galloped onward, and after about twenty minutes, they finally arrived beneath the Elven city. At this point, the gates had already been breached, and cracks lined the city walls.
(End of Chapter)