LOTR: The Mincraft Player

"Why are you here?"

In the vast and empty throne hall, ignoring Smaug who was furiously shouting "cowards" from behind the stone barrier, the company had gathered for urgent council.

"That's what I should be asking you, Garrett. What are you doing here?"

Thorin questioned sternly, "You shouldn't have acted so recklessly. Awakening the dragon prematurely, this wasn't what we agreed upon! Your actions have nearly doomed our entire quest. The key and map my father left behind would have been for naught!"

Garrett shook his head and began recounting what he had discovered, "No, Thorin. That plan no longer works. Your information is outdated. Smaug has already allied himself with a great enemy. Do you remember that necromancer Gandalf spoke of? He is the great foe of all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, the Dark Lord Sauron himself."

"He's already made contact with Smaug. They've formed an alliance. In fact, the dragon has never truly been asleep. He's just been lying in wait beneath the mountain, pretending to slumber, waiting for you all to walk right into his trap."

Hearing this revelation, the anger on Thorin's face froze, then slowly faded, replaced by an expression of growing dread.

Seeing Thorin's reaction, Garrett continued, "Also, the orcs and wargs from Khazad-dûm and the Misty Mountains have formed a vast army and are marching toward us, tens of thousands strong. They intend to crown Smaug as the new King under the Mountain and claim dominion over this entire region."

"Never! I am the rightful heir of Durin!" Thorin could not contain his outrage.

"Which is exactly why we need a new plan."

Taking a steadying breath to process this intelligence, Thorin declared, "Since the dragon is already awake, we must face him in battle. I declare our original plan void. Before the orc army arrives, we must slay Smaug, otherwise, all shall be lost!"

"And I must immediately seek reinforcements from our kinfolk."

He swiftly analyzed their situation and issued new orders with kingly authority.

"Balin, do you still recall how to craft fire-bombs?"

"Well, it's been quite a while since I last made those things, but once I'm in the workshop, I think it'll come back to me."

"Excellent. We shall head to the forges first and craft explosives. We'll use them to draw Smaug's attention, lure him to the great furnace, then use what he covets most to trap and destroy him in one stroke!"

After outlining the general strategy, Thorin explained in detail: the plan was to lure Smaug to a specific location and pour an immense quantity of molten gold upon him. Once it cooled and hardened, it would trap the dragon completely.

Hearing his proposal, the dwarves felt it had merit, worth a try. But then Garrett shook his head.

"It won't work. High temperatures don't bother him much. I tried lava against him, it was just mildly uncomfortable. Your method won't stop him. He'll break free."

"Then what do you propose? That we simply wait here while he joins forces with that army? Allow such a beast to claim the title of King under the Mountain?"

"Peace, Thorin."

Balin suddenly interjected: "There may be another path."

"What path?"

"Listen well. Regarding the fall of Dale, I once heard another version of the story, Lord Girion actually did strike the dragon. Though he failed to slay the beast, he managed to knock off a scale directly over its heart."

"If we could use the same kind of black arrow and strike that same spot again, we could definitely kill it!"

Balin spoke with conviction, looking to Garrett for confirmation.

"The tale is true."

Garrett's expression grew thoughtful, but he confirmed it nonetheless.

"I saw it with my own eyes, there really is a missing scale over Smaug's heart."

"But Lord Girion has been dead for sixty years. Where are we supposed to find another archer who could harm the dragon?"

One of the dwarves asked.

"There is someone."

Balin affirmed, "In fact, we've met him before."

The wise counselor then recounted his conversation with Bard, causing the other dwarves to exchange amazed glances.

"So that legendary weapon known as the Black Arrow still exists, and it's currently in the hands of Girion's heir."

"That man is Bard?!"

Thorin, who had been listening intently from the side, suddenly turned and said, "Garrett, might I ask you to remain here and keep watch over the dragon for a few days? We shall return with all haste."

"Of course, I can hold the line. That troublesome dragon won't be going anywhere while I'm here. By the way, I overheard you mentioning the workshop earlier, does it have a lot of gunpowder?"

"Yes. Do you need materials from there? I can give you directions."

"No need for the complete route, just point me in a straight line."

No need for all those twists and turns, it was easier to just dig straight through.

After giving Garrett a specific direction and distance, and confirming there were no other pressing matters, the dwarves hurried off.

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, then chose to accompany the dwarves, compared to Garrett, they needed him more.

---

Dawn to dusk.

Outside the jail in Lake-town, Alfrid looked down from his window at Bard below, speaking in mocking tones, "Behold our so-called champion of the people. How pathetic he appears now. Once the townsfolk adored and supported you. And how did you repay their trust? You conspired with thieves and helped them plunder the town's armory. Mark my words, Bard. The people will soon abandon and curse you. Your petty schemes shall threaten no one ever again."

"If anyone has been scheming, it isn't me."

Bard gripped the iron bars, his face dark and grim.

To frame an innocent man, one needed only an excuse.

This was nothing but a fabricated charge. They'd had their eyes on his life for a long time.

"Perhaps so, but regardless, don't dream of ever escaping this cell. This is your end."

Alfrid toyed with the keys in his hand, deliberately dangling them in front of Bard's face. Seeing Bard's deepening scowl, he smirked smugly and turned to leave.

THUD!

Suddenly, a heavy blow sounded. Alfrid's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious on the stone floor.

Click.

The cell lock opened with a soft sound. Bard looked down in surprise to see a company of fully armed dwarves.

"Bard, descendant of Girion, Lord of Dale. Now, a chance has come to prove your family's legacy. Will you seize it?"

Balin, the dwarf with the finest diplomatic skills and the best impression among Bard's acquaintances, was pushed forward to address the skilled bowman.

Just then, a young lad pushed through the dwarves and ran to Bard's side.

"Father!"

"Bain."

Bard hugged his son and asked, "What brings you here?"

"They said they were coming to rescue you, but they needed someone to guide the way."

Noticing Bard's questioning gaze, Balin sincerely praised the boy, "It's true. Your son is remarkable. He's taken good care of your home, made sound decisions, and never forgot where you were imprisoned."

Bard looked at the dwarves with a complicated expression, then looked at his son, and sighed softly.

"I understand. In truth, I never truly had a choice in this matter... did I?"