64 - Sting is Born

As the expedition entered Mirkwood, in the fortress of Dol Guldur, a pitch-black shadow appeared atop the high tower, overlooking the land shrouded in darkness.

"Azog..."

A terrifying voice echoed in the pale orc's mind. Azog's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for breath. Instinctively, he reached for his chest, finding that the massive wound running from his shoulder down to his waist had completely healed, leaving only a long scar as proof of the injury.

He raised his head, gazing up at the shadow atop the tower that had called his name.

At first, he felt anger rise within him, but upon closer inspection, he realized it wasn't the person he hated.

It was... the Necromancer, Sauron.

"Azog, you will lead the army. Prepare for war."

"What about the dwarf?" Azog asked the Dark Lord, not even sparing another glance at his healed wound.

"You promised me, he would die!"

Any other orc would likely be slain on the spot for such insubordination. But Azog had more of a cooperative relationship with Sauron, and he had earned the right to make demands.

Clearly, the Dark Lord had made some sort of promise, but now he did not answer Azog's question. Instead, he simply gave the command to lead the army.

Azog's chest heaved with fury, but he had no choice but to obey. He summoned his son, Bolg, and ordered him to continue the pursuit of the dwarves.

As Azog's offspring, Bolg had inherited his father's formidable physique, just as tall and just as strong.

"If you encounter that human," Azog growled, "you may retreat for now. But if you manage to kill him, the position of chieftain will be yours."

With his father's promise ringing in his ears, Bolg quickly set out with a war-band of orcs.

---

In the dense forest, the dwarves were drowsy and sluggish, grumbling about the dark and gloomy woods.

Even though the environment was dim, with no sunlight to be seen overhead, their journey had gone relatively smoothly so far, with no real danger. Soon, they reached a broken bridge.

"Don't touch that."

Garrett warned a dwarf who was reaching for the river. He himself tried collecting some river water with a bucket, but found nothing unusual, it was just ordinary water. Clearly, the magic in the river couldn't be taken away; it only worked within the boundaries of Mirkwood.

Following Garrett's lead, Thorin also called out loudly, "Didn't you hear what Gandalf said before we entered? This forest is cloaked in dark sorcery. The river carries a curse. There are vines over there, we could swing across. Best to let the lighter ones go first..."

"No, I don't think that's necessary," Garrett interrupted Thorin. "We can build a path across."

As he spoke, he retrieved some stone blocks and began placing them across the broken bridge with soft clicking sounds. He even widened the path in some spots to ensure the broader dwarves wouldn't fall through.

"Amazing," Balin marveled. The drowsiness from earlier faded quite a bit thanks to Garrett's display.

"Thank Mahal. To be honest, I really didn't want to trust those vines. I doubt they could support everyone's weight, especially Bombur's," Bofur added, earning a pout from Bombur.

"What incredible magic," Kíli said as he stepped onto the newly formed path, stomping several times to test its solidity.

Fíli followed up: "Anyone who can travel alongside Gandalf can't be all that normal. Oh, my apologies, I didn't mean that as an insult..."

Realizing how his words might be misunderstood, he quickly turned to explain to Garrett.

"It's fine, I understand," Garrett said, patting Fíli on the shoulder, signaling that no offense was taken.

Before they knew it, the dwarves had begun treating Garrett as someone on par with Gandalf, a natural leader, like a wizard.

By now, they were no longer surprised by Garrett's small miracles: conjuring food, producing blocks from nowhere, things they had grown accustomed to. Gandalf could summon lightning and fire and even scatter hordes of goblins with a single blast. In terms of raw magical power, the old wizard was clearly more formidable than Garrett, he just didn't use it often.

As for Garrett, even Thorin treated him with the same respect as the others did.

Thorin would scold companions who made errors, and lecture Bilbo when he expressed desires to return home. But he had never lost his temper with Garrett, just as he never had with Gandalf.

As the dwarves often said when talking about Gandalf: "He's a wizard, he does whatever he wants. Why bother trying to control him?"

They now held the same attitude toward Garrett, except in his case, he had signed a formal contract and had a duty to assist them.

On the bridge, watching Garrett's back, he nodded to himself. This man had been worth hiring. He was powerful, and like Gandalf, possessed magical abilities. If opportunity arose, he thought, it would be wise to cultivate closer ties with him.

At the rear of the group, Bilbo quietly observed Garrett conjuring the stone blocks, and unconsciously reached into his pocket to touch the ring hidden there.

Does this count as me knowing an invisibility spell too? he thought.

"Don't waste time. Let's hurry through the forest..." Thorin called out.

Not far past the enchanted river lay an area closer to where the woodland elves dwelt. But this section of the path was fraught with danger, with shadows stirring within.

Garrett looked at the spider webs hanging from the trees and resisted the urge to collect some silk. The spiders used vibrations in their webs to detect prey. If he truly did that, it would most likely provoke a swarm of them instantly.

He wouldn't have minded, but the rest of the expedition would be in grave danger, especially since, besides him, everyone else was in a dazed, drowsy state, hardly fit for combat.

Huuuh!

A low, sinister sound came from above.

Garrett instinctively drew his sword and slashed upward. A massive spider corpse dropped down, its body faintly aflame.

[Title Unlocked: Spider Slayer]

[Description: Killed a giant spider]

"What was that?" Thorin's eyes snapped open, instantly alert.

"Spiders. Manifestations of the shadow. They're corrupting this forest," Garrett explained, then asked, "Did someone touch a web? The spiders track prey by vibrations in their silk."

"Web? No, I haven't even seen one."

"Not me, I stayed right on the main path!"

"Nor I."

"No!"

The group of dwarves turned and denied it one after another.

It certainly wasn't Bilbo, he had remained close to Garrett the entire time, and he had been watching the hobbit carefully.

"So that means... this spider came looking for us on its own."

He picked up the fallen spider's remains, suddenly tempted to start hunting them down instead. These were valuable materials, after all, he'd be wasting Looting III if he didn't gather more.

"Prepare for battle!"

While Garrett was considering this, Thorin suddenly shouted from behind. Everyone immediately grabbed their weapons.

Bilbo also drew his short sword and glanced upward.

"It's not orcs, it's..."

He looked up and saw a thick swarm of massive spiders descending from the trees above. Their numbers were enough to truly blot out what little sky was visible.

"Run!" Realizing the situation was beyond what their small group could handle, Thorin shouted Gandalf's favorite command.

"Aaaahhhhhh!"

The largest and most rotund member, Bombur, instantly became the spiders' primary target. Screaming, he flailed wildly, smashing spider heads left and right, each impact bursting them like overripe fruit.

Garrett, naturally among the first to react, cut down the spiders around him with several swift strikes, then quickly moved to protect the main group. Running and slashing as he went, he barely paused, no spider could survive a single blow from his blade.

As the battle continued, his inventory filled with stacks of spider eyes. Behind the expedition, countless spider corpses accumulated, many still aflame. From above, it appeared as though someone had drawn a blazing line of fire through the forest.

Most of the spiders were blocked behind the group. Occasionally, a few would leap down from the treetops to attack, but the dwarves quickly dispatched them.

Squelch.

In the chaos, even Bilbo managed to thrust his blade through a spider's head. Just before it died, he thought he heard it speak, or perhaps it was his imagination.

The spider seemed to make a sound describing the sensation of being stabbed.

"Sting?"

"That's a fitting name. From now on, this sword shall be called Sting."

As spider after spider fell and the group appeared close to surviving this crisis, sudden whistling sounds echoed through the forest. Arrows began flying from every direction, at angles so sharp they seemed impossible, but every single one struck a spider dead-on, finding weak points and killing instantly.

Following the arrows came a group of elves clad in forest-green robes and armor. They moved gracefully among the branches, eliminating any remaining spiders with precise, fluid strikes.

However, they didn't sheathe their weapons. Instead, they turned their bows toward the expedition.

"Do not think I won't strike you down, dwarf. It would be my pleasure," said the leader, a fair-haired elf, as he drew back his bowstring and aimed directly at Thorin.

Though Garrett had never encountered him before, he recognized him immediately.

It was none other than the elven prince of the Woodland Realm, Legolas.

The temperament of the Mirkwood elves was far different from the gentle nature of the Rivendell elves. Their lands were dangerous, constantly requiring them to fight, and they regularly traded with the Men of Dale. All of this had made them more open, but also more quick-tempered, than other elves.

Garrett sheathed his sword and stepped forward.

"Do not move!" an elf warned.

Legolas immediately turned toward Garrett, aiming his bow at him. But upon clearly seeing who it was, he lowered his weapon, making a hand gesture for the others behind him to do the same.

"Lower your bows. He is our guest."