LOTR: Bringing an MC System to Middle-Earth

If everything Gandalf had seen before could be explained with some scrap of memory or faint resemblance to known magic, then this door was the first thing that defied all reason.

It didn't belong to this world.

Not magic. Not ancient souls. Not even the finest dwarven smithing. All of those, at least, had roots here. But this… this was different.

"This isn't supposed to exist here," Gandalf muttered, staring at the massive infernal gate before them. His eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his wide-brimmed hat. "And yet, here it is. Which means someone or something—approved its presence. A new verse in the song of the world, perhaps."

He paused, then sighed.

""Pity I won't be the one to hear it play."

"Nothing worth hearing in there anyway," Eric said, stepping forward. "Just lava, a few abandoned ruins, and whatever's left of the creatures that once called it home."

Though he made it sound mundane, the truth was a little more… dramatic. If the ancient records were accurate, the whole hellish expanse might be the remains of some long-dead colossal beast. And the ruins inside? Very likely remnants of an actual pre-historic civilization.

Gandalf rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Sounds like the Deep Pit of Moria all over again."

He glanced around and chuckled. "To be honest, I'm still recovering from the shock. This entire territory, its scale, the design, the resources—it's enormous. I expected a bustling stronghold full of settlers. Not… wandering automatons."

As if summoned, a nearby iron golem trudged up, tilted its head curiously at Gandalf, then reached into a compartment on its side and carefully presented a single, slightly crumpled red flower.

"Oh—why, thank you," Gandalf said, genuinely touched, and gently tucked the flower into his satchel.

Clank. Clank.

The golem turned and resumed its slow patrol with mechanical grace.

Eric gave a lopsided smile. "Not much help around here, so I tend to do most things myself."

He didn't elaborate further, but if there ever were people in need of shelter, he wouldn't turn them away. Maybe it was time to consider that more seriously…

Unlike the whirlwind visitor Farodan, Gandalf was quite content to stay a few days when Eric offered. In fact, he claimed a guest room immediately, though not without proper manners. He was polite, helpful, and answered Eric's questions with surprising thoroughness.

Spending time with Gandalf felt natural. The old wizard wasn't just knowledgeable, he carried the same weight of wisdom as Elrond, but where Elrond was serene and formal, Gandalf had a much looser, wandering spirit.

The days passed quickly.

One morning, Gandalf found Eric near the edge of the basalt garden, feeding a parrot with bread crumbs.

"Eric," Gandalf said, staff in hand, "thank you for your hospitality. It's been memorable, but I must be on my way."

Eric wiped his hands. "May your path be smooth and full of fresh pipe-weed."

Gandalf chuckled. "It truly has been a pleasure. Especially your cooking. I dare say I'm a little reluctant to leave."

"I've got a Hobbit friend who said something very similar."

"Ha! With your cooking, it's a wonder you haven't been adopted by an entire Shire village."

Gandalf slung a pack of travel supplies over his shoulder, Eric's parting gift—and turned toward the trail.

"I'm off to pursue a bit of adventure."

Eric's brow arched. "Adventure?"

"Yes," Gandalf said, eyes twinkling. "Something's brewing out there, and I intend to find out what."

Eric's fingers itched. Truth be told, aside from a recent brush with hellspawn, he hadn't been out properly in weeks.

Gandalf paused. "I could use a companion, of course. Always more exciting with company."

Moments later, Eric emerged from his armory.

He was clad head-to-toe in netherite-black armor, sharp and gleaming. A diamond-armored horse stamped impatiently beside him.

"So," he asked casually, "where are we headed?"

Gandalf stared, mouth slightly agape. "Eric, my boy," he managed, "We are embarking on an adventure. Subtle reconnaissance. Not marching to war."

"What? This is my adventure gear."

Gandalf pointed at the armored steed."I strongly suggest putting the warhorse back in the stable and maybe, dressing like someone who isn't about to lay siege to a fortress."

Eric blinked, then glanced at Gandalf's weather-beaten robes and unassuming staff.

Indeed, the wizard's cloak seemed ideal for travel: durable, comfortable, and utterly inconspicuous.

Reluctantly, Eric stashed his helmet and slipped a loose linen cloak over his armor. It was oversized and hooded, draping him like a wandering wizard. The netherite beneath was still there—but hidden.

Truthfully, the armor wasn't bulky at all. It was sleek, well-fitted, and didn't restrict his movements. If anything, it gave him more confidence. But, for Gandalf's sake, he went with the disguise.

Now he looked more like a rugged ranger, albeit one whose leather armor had been swapped with very stylish high-tier combat plating.

"Well," Gandalf sighed, eyeing the metallic glint still visible at Eric's wrists. "It's… an improvement. If the weight doesn't trouble you?"

"Not an issue," Eric stated flatly. The concept of 'heavy' seemed irrelevant to him.

"Then let us depart!" Gandalf gestured eastward.

Eric followed the line of the staff. "The Misty Mountains?"

"Precisely," Gandalf confirmed, his expression turning serious. "The Orcs there grow unnervingly bold, skulking near the very borders of Rivendell. They plot something, I am certain. Their purpose must be uncovered."

Eric shifted slightly, metal scraping softly under the cloak. "About that… I might have some insight. They were… rather fixated on me recently. Sent several hundred Warg-riders this way over the past months. Didn't end well for most of them. Things have been quiet since."

Gandalf stared at him. "Hundreds?"

"I didn't keep exact count. Lost track after eighty."

"And you… survived that?"

"Did better than survive." Eric pulled up his status menu with a flick. "Turns out I'm their sworn nemesis now."

[Reputation: Misty Mountain Orcs: -370 (Mortal Enemy)]

"…Good grief. What did you do to them?"

Eric shrugged. "Just what I said. Took out a few hundred of their elite cavalry."

Gandalf let out a long sigh. "Well, that solves one mystery."

He turned serious again. "But there's more. The orcs haven't just been prowling the western passes. They've also reclaimed ancient strongholds on the eastern slopes, ruins abandoned since the old wars with the dwarves."

"No idea what they're planning," he added, worry creasing his brow.

Eric nodded slowly. "Sounds like it's worth looking into."

Truth be told, he'd never traveled farther than Rivendell before. Having someone like Gandalf as a guide on this trek through wild lands felt like the perfect opportunity.