Chapter 274: Untitled 6

Amidst the clear moonlight, Allen glided rapidly across the mottled mountainside, aided by the howling gale.

That's right, he had just crossed the Misty Mountains, which towered into the clouds.

A few days ago, he had left Heidelberg and returned to Feslate. He hadn't stayed long this time either, instead seizing the time to write several letters to his important allies and subordinates, briefly explaining the situation in the Grey Mountains.

The larger the operation, the more preparation required.

One letter was for the ruler of the Woodland Realm, the Elven King Thranduil.

Allen hoped the Elves could look after the Old Forest Road for a year or two, and if things became urgent, lend a hand to his territory near the Running River.

After all, he had withdrawn a large amount of military strength from Heidelberg and transferred away three adult Skin-changers, leaving the human defense against Dol Guldur too weak. Other places needed guarding too, especially near the High Pass, where the Goblins had begun to stir.

Thus, the strength Allen held in his hands was stretched thin, so to avoid affecting the development of events, he needed the Elves' help.

The second letter was to the de facto ruler of Calenardhon, his good friend the Prince of Rohan, Thengel. Yes, King Fengel, having recovered, was still alive; though at 81 years old he didn't handle much business, he had not abdicated and remained King.

Allen hoped Thengel could dispatch multiple scouting parties to keep a constant watch on the movements of Isengard and the Brown Lands.

Regarding the White Wizard, he had received not-so-good news: Orthanc had closed its gates in the summer, and Saruman no longer received any guests. No one knew what kind of schemes he was cooking up inside that high tower.

Keeping a slight watch was never a bad thing; if they discovered Goblins defecting to the Wizard, they could resolve it early. If they waited until Saruman evolved into an industrial pioneer, it would be too troublesome to deal with.

As for the Brown Lands, Allen was worried that Mordor would send a large number of Goblins to Dol Guldur to strengthen the evil forces in the south of Mirkwood, thereby forming a military threat to force him to withdraw the troops deployed in the Grey Mountains.

If such a thing really happened, Allen hoped the brave and sturdy Riders of Rohan could take the opportunity to weaken the enemy. After all, striking at darkness was everyone's responsibility.

The final letter was to his loyal vassal, his old friend of many years, now the Border Count, Fatis. Allen predicted that the area east of the Running River might not be peaceful in the near future, and urged Fatis to prepare for war.

If necessary, he could request the Elves' help. Allen felt that given Thranduil's personality, he would likely not tolerate the trade route being cut off by the Easterlings again, so the Elven King would likely help with this favor.

At the highest point of the Misty Mountains, the wind that blew was violent and bone-chilling, occasionally bringing large patches of dark clouds and lightning, forming an overwhelming thunderstorm.

Even with Allen's mastery of wind, he had to temporarily avoid the might of the Great King, the Lord of Arda's Air and Wind, the head of the Valar, Manwe.

Fortunately, mountain storms always came and went quickly; from the afternoon on, it had lasted less than two hours before ending. The crescent moon revealed its face, gazing down at the devastated mountains.

The downpour caused large swaths of rock to fall; these stones rolled rapidly down the slopes, some smashing trees to pieces, some creating large splashes in the mountain streams, and more still shattering against the cliffs.

This was the daily routine of the Misty Mountains; the higher the terrain, the more frequently it occurred. Allen had experienced it once over a decade ago.

At that time, he had stood beside a dozen Dwarves, a Wizard, and a Hobbit, watching helplessly.

This time, Allen's speed was countless times faster. Without the interference of the thunderstorm, he manipulated the natural winds of the mountains, descending toward the Mitheithel in Eriador, where a brightly lit human settlement lay.

In Allen's memory, the terrain there was quite good; the banks of the river were large stretches of fertile land, and dense forests spread all the way from the foot of the mountains, capable of providing large amounts of building materials and firewood.

The only drawback to this place was that it was too close to the Misty Mountains. There was much evil and darkness breeding in the tunnels, and they often left their nests at night to attack the good-hearted residents living nearby.

That's right, it was too dangerous here, which resulted in no residents choosing to settle here—at least, that was the case a few years ago.

Now, he didn't know who was bold enough to settle here. The Goblins of the Misty Mountains hadn't been wiped out yet, and the darkness of Moria was constantly expanding. Allen felt he should go and investigate; he didn't want some Goblins to have occupied this place.

Soon, his gliding figure landed near the village. The light in the darkness constantly emitted human voices—joyful laughter and conversation, though the accent was a bit strange, with some local slang mixed into the familiar Common Tongue.

However, Allen could still understand the meaning.

"Baviel, I heard your harvest was very rich today. You caught three full buckets of fish with one net. You should at least treat me to a beer today."

This was a very hearty voice, seemingly joking with a friend.

"You're not bad either, Ramsey. You chopped so much wood in one day. Don't think I didn't see it; Lord Tier gave you a bottle of good wine. Don't just stand there, take it out!"

"You've got sharp eyes. I must have a share of that grilled fish on the campfire."

"No problem, of course you have a share. Whoa, it's actually honey mead from the Prancing Pony. It seems you really performed well today."

Following the joking voices, Allen, his mind put at ease, gradually approached the firelight. If possible, he might be able to figure out the origin of these people and rest by the campfire for the night.

"Who goes there?!" a commanding voice suddenly rang out.

Subsequently, several figures flashed out from the shadows behind the trees. Several longswords shimmering with cold light surrounded Allen in an instant, and further away, a guard holding a longbow aimed at this spot.

"Don't be nervous. I'm just a passing traveler, very ordinary, and I won't cause harm to anyone."

These people had high concealment skills; even their breathing was barely perceptible. Allen had focused most of his attention on the voices coming from afar and hadn't discovered the people hiding in the woods at all, though small animals had been moving constantly.

However, the current situation was just a small scene for Allen. If needed, he could knock everyone here down in an instant, and he wouldn't need weapons.

"Your name, stranger. Furthermore, a person dressed elegantly but carrying no weapons dares to cross this dangerous wilderness—please forgive me for not being able to believe your words."

Under the moonlight, a young man with pitch-black hair, leather boots, and a grey cloak spoke up. His stature was tall and strong, far exceeding his companions. As he spoke, his bright, piercing eyes stared fixedly at Allen without the slightest relaxation.

At the same time, the young man appeared very polite; even when questioning, he was courteous.

"Allen, Allen Salian."

Allen carefully sized up the young man opposite him and, to ease the tense atmosphere, said his name with a smile.

Borrowing the clear moonlight tonight, he discovered a familiar object on the other's clothing: a silver pin shimmering in the moonlight. It was the "Star of the Dunedain." The person opposite was clearly a young Northern Ranger.

"No need to be so nervous, young man. Bright blades should be aimed at evil. I'm just an ordinary person wanting to head to Bree. If you mind, I can leave."

Since he had confirmed the other's identity, Allen felt it didn't matter much whether he entered this settlement. At this point, he just needed to hurry a bit, and he might be able to eat the Prancing Pony's signature grilled lamb chops before curfew.

Although the chef there couldn't compare to a Hobbit's, the tender and delicious lamb chops, plus the signature spices from the Shire and a cup of unique honey mead, followed by a good sleep, was much more comfortable than sleeping in the wilderness.

"Does anyone here know this name?" The young man didn't answer Allen's question, instead asking his companions if they had heard of Allen Salian.

"No." "Never heard of it."

Most people shook their heads, but only a middle-aged man with white whiskers fell into thought, then laughed to himself, saying as he laughed:

"I remember, on the other side of the mountains, there is a great ruler named Allen, but I'm not too sure about the surname. You wouldn't happen to be that King, would you?"

Clearly, this was a joke. Which King would cross the wilderness alone in the middle of the night? Even the recently famous Thorin Oakenshield had set out only after forming a small team.

Allen shrugged and answered with a smile: "Do I look like one?"

"Doesn't look like it. Which King is as shabby as you? You should at least have an honor guard with you."

This middle-aged man spoke much more bluntly. Allen's state at the moment was indeed not good; although his rain-soaked clothes had dried, the mud splatters here and there made him look quite disheveled.

"Alright, stop joking."

The young Northern Ranger interrupted the topic and waved his hand; the surrounding blades were sheathed one after another.

"Mr. Salian, I am very sorry for everything that just happened. Now, although the North is much better, the world is far from peaceful. There are always some evil fellows who harbor malice toward others. I hope you can forgive our presumption. Now, please let me entertain you properly to make up for our previous mistake."

The Dunedain exiles wandering in the North had guarded the peace of Eriador for many years, paying much toil and sacrifice for it. Although they appeared silent and serious to the outside world, it was undeniable that they were good people willing to help others.

After confirming that Allen was not carrying any overly dangerous weapons, the young man was no longer so guarded and invited Allen to be a guest in the village.

The Dunedain were at a critical moment, and an extra friend was always good. Moreover, the other party looked very kind and acted very normally, not like a bad person.

"Then thank you. A warm campfire and kind friends are much better than sleeping in the wilderness." Since the other party had invited him, Allen felt he had no reason to refuse.

A short while later, Allen followed the young man to the village's resting area and learned the young man's name from other residents: Halbarad.

If nothing went wrong, the other party should be that Dunedain Ranger who helped Aragorn carry the banner during the War of the Ring and walked the Paths of the Dead, eventually sacrificing himself at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

Allen hadn't expected to meet an "old acquaintance" in such a place. Halbarad looked older than Aragorn and should be in a position similar to a sheriff here, guarding the safety of the village and the villagers.

However, this young Ranger's subordinates were all ordinary humans, and there were very few Dunedain in this village, which made Allen a bit puzzled.

Either Aragorn was expanding too fast and had absorbed too many Northern humans in a short time, leading to a shortage of manpower.

Or the Dunedain had encountered some emergency and a large number of people had been tied up, leading to the current situation.

However, these had nothing to do with Allen at the moment. Since Aragorn hadn't requested his help, Allen didn't want to interfere in the Rangers' affairs.

"Mr. Salian, please."

Not long after Allen sat down, an elderly lady in simple clothing brought him dinner.

A bowl of meat broth, a piece of cornmeal cake, a cup of beer, and a piece of grilled river fish sizzling with heat.

Although it didn't look very sumptuous, it was a very good reception in this wilderness. Clearly, this was the result of Halbarad's instructions.

"Thank you for the hospitality, respected lady. May I know your name?"

Allen didn't rush to eat, instead wanting to inquire about some news.

"Call me Camille, sir. Do you need any help?"

For Halbarad's friend, Camille was very willing to provide some help within her power. After all, the stable life they currently possessed was thanks to those powerful Rangers.

"Camille, Halbarad just mentioned to me that there are some malicious people nearby threatening this place. I want to know some specific details. Is it convenient for you to say?"

Camille was a bit surprised and said: "Why don't you ask Lord Halbarad?"

Allen smiled and said: "He is always very busy. Look, now he's nowhere to be found, and I'm embarrassed to disturb his work."

Camille nodded. Indeed, Lord Halbarad was responsible for the safety of the entire village, and most of the time his whereabouts were secret; he was simply nowhere to be seen.

"Alright, actually it's like this. I think you should know that we also moved here not long ago. There was a camp nearby before, where some impolite people lived. They have harassed us many times, forcing us to provide food and money as protection fees. Not long ago, Lord Halbarad took his subordinates and just had a bloody conflict with them, injuring quite a few people."

Camille opened the floodgates, as if the person in front of her could help the village solve the current trouble.

"Although there are quite a few people in the village who can pick up weapons to fight, most haven't received decent training, and they will still suffer when fighting those bandits. We finally found a suitable place, only to be threatened by such things. If I had known, I might as well have stayed in the River Corner; life there was more peaceful."

However, soon, Camille realized she had said too much. After a hurried farewell, she left. Before leaving, she instructed Allen that the tableware could be left on the table, and someone would help clean it up.

Allen picked up the meat broth in front of him and fell into deep thought. ===== CHAPTER 275 =====