LOTR: Bringing an MC System to Middle-Earth

The weather was growing colder by the day.

The water in the well was ice-cold, nearly frozen.

"Hurry up and freeze already," Eric muttered, glaring at it.

It wasn't the water he was angry at, though. It was the biting chill that clung to everything and everyone. The water might not be solid ice yet, but the residents certainly felt like they were turning into popsicles.

Passing by the garden, Eric caught sight of a resident shivering as he harvested corn. The poor fellow would work for a few minutes, then dash over to a firepit to warm his hands before returning to the frosty field.

He wasn't alone. Quite a few people were doing the same. None of them seemed to own anything remotely warm enough for this kind of weather.

"That's not going to cut it," Eric frowned.

Just as he was about to head to the warehouse and check the stockpile for warm materials, he was intercepted by old Ved, the community representative.

His purpose? Identical to Eric's. Find a way to help the people survive the winter.

"My lord," Ved said, bowing slightly, "we'd like to request a supply of wool or leather. We can make warm clothing to get through the season."

"Approved," Eric replied immediately.

There was more than enough of both sitting in the warehouse gathering dust. Enough, in fact, to clothe twice as many people.

"Take whatever you need. As always, no need to hoard, but don't waste anything either."

"Take according to our needs... I understand, my lord," Ved nodded thoughtfully.

Eric unlocked access to the public supply crates for him. Ved, after completing a string of tasks and proving himself time and again, had already risen to the [Resident] tier of reputation. That allowed him to use communal magic chests Eric had set up, which to outsiders just looked like enchanted containers granted to trusted citizens by their lord.

The result? Productivity soared.

Wool, thread, leather—residents knew how to use them, but hand-sewing in the freezing cold wasn't the fastest way to make coats. In the end, Eric simply used batch crafting to produce dozens of identical winter outfits.

Three materials proved especially effective for cheap, cold-resistant gear: leather, wool, and warg pelts.

The last two had been added to his crafting table only after encountering the right resources. Lucky timing.

With everyone wrapped up and no one freezing to death, Eric finally turned his attention to the bigger picture.

Resources were flowing steadily. Residents were growing in number. Reputation points flickered above people's heads like cheerful status indicators. It was time to think about the next level.

At 50 reputation, a resident could become a [Craftsman], unlocking advanced tools and the option to choose a workstation and a profession.

Tailors, for instance, could use looms—actual functional looms, not just decorative banner-makers like in the original game. Here, the loom worked just as a loom should.

Of course, choosing a profession wasn't as easy as clicking a button. You had to learn the trade first.

This created a healthier path for development: from visitor to resident, from resident to tradesperson, and from there—who knows? Master artisan? Captain of the guard? Scholar of the arcane?

"Progress is looking good," Eric mused with a small smile.

Just as things were finally settling into a rhythm and the territory was thriving, a visitor arrived.

Gandalf.

It hadn't been long since they last saw each other. After dropping Bilbo back home, the old wizard had turned around and made his way straight to Eric's gate.

Whoosh—

Watching the newly completed city gate rise with a soft mechanical hum, Gandalf nodded approvingly.

"Finally," he said with amusement, "a gate that isn't just for decoration."

"I have a feeling something important has happened."

"You could say that," Eric said as they walked side by side. "I've taken in some new people, officially made them citizens. And… I formed a faction."

"A faction?" Gandalf raised a brow.

"Well, I can't exactly leave such a big territory unorganized. Needed some structure, you know. Otherwise it gets too quiet."

"Reasonable enough."

The wizard looked around at the workers and smiled. "These folk… their ancestors likely hailed from the old kingdom of Rhovanion, kin to the Riders of Rohan. That golden hair's a dead giveaway."

"They're a good choice—brave stock, proud and rebellious. Even the women won't hesitate to pick up weapons when the time comes. And I don't sense any darkness in them."

As he spoke, Gandalf paused mid-step, squinting thoughtfully.

"Wait… Did you just say you formed a faction? Not a new settlement?"

"That's right."

"…Hmph."

The old wizard sucked in a sharp breath.

"I haven't heard a whisper of this. Let me guess—it's brand new? As in, last-two-days new?"

"Exactly. I decided to unify all my territories under one name: the Free Cities."

"Eric, Lord of the Free Cities," Gandalf echoed slowly.

"Well. That's very you."

And just like that, he accepted it.

After all the time they'd spent together, nothing Eric did surprised him anymore. At this point, even if Eric sprouted wings and flew off riding a dragon, Gandalf would probably just raise an eyebrow.

Actually… no. That would be surprising. Hopefully not happening anytime soon.

"These people seem well-fed and full of energy," Gandalf noted. "I'm curious how you manage that."

"It's a long story," Eric chuckled.

He waved off the curious glances from passing residents and invited Gandalf into the castle. As they stepped inside, he asked, "So, what's next for you? More adventures and wandering?"

"Indeed. I plan to visit a few places." Gandalf's tone turned serious. "Eric, I have reason to believe that the Enemy's Ring of Power… was never lost at sea."

"Hmm?"

Most of the White Council had long accepted Saruman's theory—that the Ring had been washed away into the ocean and lost forever. Even if Gandalf didn't trust Saruman personally, he usually gave weight to the man's ideas.

"What makes you think otherwise?" Eric asked.

"My instincts," Gandalf said simply. "I feel it. Ever since I escaped from Dol Guldur, that shadow has been hanging over me. Sauron's power is stirring again."

"I plan to investigate the Anduin Valley and its surroundings. There may be clues."

Wizardly intuition wasn't something to ignore.

"Well then… good luck," Eric said. After a pause, he added, "Actually, I've got a little favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"If you run into refugees or people down on their luck… send them my way. Roadside Keep still has space. No rush—just if it comes up."

"Of course," Gandalf nodded.

"…And there's one more thing," Eric said, his voice quieter now. "Gandalf, if… someday, something happens to me. If I die—would you bring my body back here?"

The wizard's brows lifted slightly as he looked at Eric. There was a long pause.

Then, slowly, Gandalf nodded.

"I will. Of course I will. We're friends, aren't we?"

"And if that day ever comes… even if I'm not part of this world anymore, I'll find a way."