But as he drew his blade and led the charge, the wind carried their war-cries—raw, desperate, and entirely their own.
But Elric wasn’t done. He felt the stone pulsing, hungry. He tapped another rune: Elven Archer Battalion. A forest of Lothlórien bows materialized on the ridge, arrows nocked before they even had lungs to breathe.
Barrow traced a rune on the stone. A shimmering, impossible interface bloomed in the air—ghostly green numbers and symbols that no elf or dwarf had ever crafted. lotr bfme trainer
The shattered into a thousand silent shards.
“Pull back!” an Uruk captain shrieked. “Witch-work!” But as he drew his blade and led
“For the Mark!” he screamed.
The next morning, Elric mustered his real three hundred riders. They were tired. Their swords were chipped. Their horses were lame. And against the next wave of orcs, they would lose. Probably. He tapped another rune: Elven Archer Battalion
He raised the stone high, then brought it down on a rock.
Elric’s fingers trembled. He’d lost his brother at the Fords of Isen. He’d watched a warg-riders tear apart his childhood friend. The forces of Mordor were infinite. The Free Peoples were bleeding out.