"There's big trouble in the north! How could someone like Master Sauron be concerned with a small place like Lonely Mountain? The troops of Mordor are all lined up!" Roland thought anxiously as he sat atop Carlos's dragon, thousands of feet above the ground.

"Sir, relax. Everything will pass! Lagrand's glory blesses you and me!" Carlos turned his head, attempting to comfort him.

Roland sighed. "Even if the elves join the fight, our chances of victory are slim," he said after a moment of reflection.

"Why?" Carlos asked, confused. "With your command, we can pull together 800 men. James can muster 500, Thorin over 1,000. Bard in River Valley City can contribute 500, and the elves have at least 3,500. That's a coalition of over 8,000 men! Surely, with the right strategy, we can defeat the orcs."

"But we're fighting on two fronts," Roland explained. "The only one who can support the south is King Dain of Erebor. The elves will intercept the goblins and orcs from the fortress of Gombarda. Bard and Thorin will defend their homes, but only the dwarves of Ironhill, led by Ironfoot Dain, can help us. And we're up against Azog, supported by the full might of Mordor."

Carlos's face tightened with concern. "What should we do?"

Roland's mind raced. Suddenly, an idea struck him. "Wait! Take me back to Rapid City! You head north to deliver the news!"

Carlos was puzzled but obeyed without question.

Did Roland think of a way to break the stalemate? The answer was yes. This world was eerily similar to the Middle-earth of *The Lord of the Rings*, a game Roland had played. If the hidden forces in that world existed here, too, then perhaps he could turn the tide.

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After whispering a few words to Reynold and Radiel, Roland hurriedly rode towards the pier. His mind raced with possibilities. If the star elves—the children of stars—truly existed in the dark forest north of Dogoldo, he might have a chance. They lived in a secret realm, hidden by powerful star-forbidden magic. If Roland could find and persuade them to join the war, he could tip the balance.

As Roland prepared to plunge into the forest, Reynold grabbed his arm. "King! Where are you going? That direction leads to Dogoldo! You can't be serious about facing Azog head-on!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Roland said, kicking Reynold away. "I'm not crazy! I'm not going to Dogoldo! We're going to find the star elves!"

Reynold breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, but we can't just ride horses into the forest. The hoofprints will give us away, and riding through the woods is asking for trouble."

Roland paused, realizing the truth in Reynold's words. "You're right. We'll go on foot."

As they set off, Roland glanced back at Rapid City one last time, then plunged into the dense forest with Reynold by his side.

---

Meanwhile, in the Woodland Realm, Thranduil stared at Carlos in disbelief. "Orcs of Mordor? How could they be in the north?"

"Yes," Carlos replied, his tone measured. "Our allies were ambushed by them and suffered heavy losses."

Thranduil's disbelief turned to anger. "But how? How could they reach the north?"

Carlos pulled out a totem flag from his coat. "This totem isn't from the Misty Mountains or Dogoldo. Our allies were ambushed while scouting the south. So, Your Highness, what other orc forces do you think are in the south?"

Thranduil's face twisted with fury. The memory of the final battle of the alliance haunted him. His father, Orofel, had led the woodland and golden forest elves against the orcs, only to be ambushed in the Dead Marshes. Orofel had died in that battle, and the old fortress occupied by orcs was once the capital of the woodland elves.

Carlos could almost hear his thoughts and couldn't help but think, *Why didn't you demolish the city when you left? Was magic too expensive to use, or were the elf mages all gone? You left a curse for everyone to deal with...*

"I understand your message. Tell King Roland that if the orcs of Mordor come, I will bring the army to support him. Light the beacons to show us the way," Thranduil said, his voice filled with determination.

Carlos shook his head. "No, Your Highness. Once the army of Mordor arrives, the goblin orcs of Gombarda will follow. The defense line in the north needs your stability."

Thranduil's eyes darkened as he realized the truth in Carlos's words. The battle for Middle-earth was far from over, and the coming war would test them all.