News about Lord of the Rings's unexpected shutdown was all over the 'net in a matter of minutes. Middle-Earth Enterprises released a statement later that same day, saying that their programmers and engineers were investigating around the clock to find what caused the AI to shut everything down so abruptly, and also that there would be further updates as the situation warranted.

It was Baranor who got word to them all first a few days later, when they went back to their video chats. "I talked to Serka, wanted to know what the hell was going on," he said, voice staticky over the less-than-stellar connection, "He talked to his buddies on the dev team - they already know what happened."

"So?" Talion asked, leaning in, "What's the word? What did happen?"

"Someone tried to hack the servers, malform the logout system so we couldn't get out of the game," Baranor replied in a voice barely above a whisper, which set the others murmuring and exchanging horrified looks around him, "Law enforcement's investigating - they think someone wanted to hold the players hostage, like with Ad Astra."

Ad Astra had been a full-immersion virtual reality game, same as LotR, but sci-fi rather than fantasy. It had been all about space exploration, theoretical faster-than-light travel (back when such a thing was theory and not very close to becoming reality), how humans might evolve to live on planets other than Earth and other species they might encounter in their journeys out into the stars. The game had been very popular when Talion had been a younger man, and he'd played a few times during the open beta; it had been interesting, but not enough for him to pay the game's nearly $500 price tag.

After that, he'd forgotten about it - until the now-infamous Ad Astra Hostage Crisis. The game and the technology needed to run it had been developed by two friends, who'd ultimately had a major falling out. The board of the company that sold the game came down on the side of the engineer who built the systems that ran it, rather than the programmer. He'd been punished, pushed out - ultimately unjustly, but by the time the unjustly part came out, it was already too late. He'd been ousted from the company, but he'd left himself a few backdoors in the system. He decided to prove that his code was just as important as the systems that ran it - by holding every player in the game hostage, preventing them from logging out.

Because of the full-immersion part of full-immersion virtual reality, the player's brain was literally connected to the computers running the games through incredibly sophisticated (yet now relatively inexpensive) equipment that stimulated their brains in a similar way that reality did, which let them live the games - but it also left them profoundly vulnerable. Stimulate the brain the wrong way at the wrong time, or do an improper disconnect...

They all knew the risks. They'd been required to actually read the terms and conditions, every last page of disclaimers and waivers and hazard warnings, the assurances of safety and modifications made specifically so the players were protected from such "hostage-taking" situations, but technology had come a long way since the days of Ad Astra.

Or so they'd thought.

"But the AI caught it?" Talion only half-asked.

"The AI caught it," Baranor confirmed, "It detected the upload - Serka said they think it was some kind of Trojan - and assessed the threat. When it determined that it couldn't run the game and fight the virus at the same time, it shut everything down and disconnected itself from the 'net before the download could finish. They're bringing the game servers back online tomorrow, but it's not gonna be reconnected just yet. Gotta run tests, make sure their security improvements are good first. Maybe sometime next week, they think."

"Any word on who did it?"

"Not yet. Serka heard that they're actually considering using the AI to track him, to test potential real-world applications."

"That sounds a little dangerous."

"More dangerous than letting the guy slip?"

Talion had to incline his head at that. Baranor had a point. Then he said, "Let's give them an extra week after the game comes back online, just to make sure security's squared away, before we dive in again."

"Fair enough," said Idril, sitting next to Baranor, "See you then, Dad. Love you."

"Love you all too."

Between then and their next log on, Talion managed to track down Torvin and Bilbo's contact information and sent them both messages asking if they were all right. Torvin answered right away that he hadn't even been online at the time and he didn't need some young punk worrying about him like he was going to keel over any second. Talion still knew the other man well enough that he was able to read between the lines, though; Torvin was fine, and was also glad he and his family were all right, too.

Bilbo took a few days to reply, but eventually he too answered, saying he was "doing as well as can be expected at my age" and how pleased he was to hear that they had all gotten out all right. He also agreed to the date and time they planned on returning to the game, and said he would meet them wherever they ended up respawning.

They all spawned back in the Prancing Pony, where they were soon swarmed by dwarves. "There you are!" said Fíli, "We were starting to get worried! You just vanished on us, and we didn't want to leave without you."

They all apologized to the dwarves and, since the NPCs wouldn't understand - or know - that their whole world was all technically just a simulation, they just said that some kind of magic had snatched them away. "Well here's hoping it doesn't happen again," Dwalin grumbled, "The last thing we need is the One vanishing you all again right as we're fighting the damned dragon."

"You should go see your elf friend, too, before we leave," said Balin, "He was worried about you too."

Tyelpë had indeed been very worried, because the instant he saw them, he dropped the red-hot sword he'd been forging and rushed to embrace them all, murmuring, "Thank goodness, thank goodness." He squeezed them all tight for a moment, then pulled back to examine them. "Are you all well? You vanished so suddenly, and then didn't return for so long…"

"We're alright," Ioreth answered, to smiles and nods from the others, "We gave it a bit before coming back, just wanted to make sure it was really safe, but we're alright."

Tyelpë's shoulders sagged in relief and understanding, and he nodded. "I spoke to a few of the priests of the Valar," he said, "It seems that Morgoth and his servants made a push to come east over the Blue Mountains, and the One Above All sent all the adventurers away for their own safety, for none yet have the strength to challenge him. Still, I am relieved to see you - all of you - safely returned."

Of course, they still had to face Smaug, so they bade the elf farewell and rejoined the dwarves. "That's kind of a nice little detail," Idril said as they got back on the East-West Road toward Rivendell, "The AI adding an in-universe explanation for the shutdown."

"You'd rather it didn't put anything in at all?"

Idril genuinely thought about it for a moment. At last, she frowned and said, "...I don't know. If no one said anything, it would... you know. Be pretty much like any other game or something, turned on when we wanted it and off when we didn't. But now that I think about it, the fact that the AI decided to make mention of it here, acknowledged it, added it to the history of this world…"

"We knew the AI was learning from its interactions with players," said Baranor, "but it was all… subtle. More about making the world more believable than anything else. But now it's altered the game world to acknowledge a real-world event in a way that roughly parallels said event."

"This AI was just a theory before now," Bilbo said quietly, "Just a thought in the back of your minds, something known in the abstract but never actually encountered. Perhaps intellectually you knew that it lived behind the eyes of every NPC you interacted with, but it still wasn't real - the characters it played were. But now the AI itself has overtly made itself known to you - to all of us - although still not directly, but enough that we have to adjust our view of this world to fit, to be actively aware of it in turn."

Of course, then they were attacked by another pack of goblins, but Talion had spotted them a long way off and warned the others. They were ready, and cut the creatures down with no more difficulty than they had before, even though the packs were growing more numerous and more dangerous the closer they got to the Misty Mountains. "There has to be some kind of nest or hive or something down there!" Idril nearly growled, staring off at the peaks in the distance, "Imagine the loot!"

"Imagine the trouble you'll have fencing it," said Baranor, "or even getting it up and out of those tunnels. Though the next update's supposed to be adding a kind of 'Grand Exchange' in some cities where you can put things up for sale."

"That'll be handy."

"Not just for offloading loot," Talion added, "Potions ingredients, crafting items - you could probably buy something from halfway around the world without traveling there yourself to get it, and receive it instantaneously. Not that that's nearly as much of a hassle as it would be IRL. We've got fast-travel lodestones."

"Dad, don't try to be cool."

"Idril, people were saying 'IRL' before I was born."

They finally reached Rivendell after three more attacks from goblins and even a trio of trolls who tried to eat them. Fortunately, Bilbo was able to delay the trolls by getting them to argue long enough for Gandalf to return to the party and turn the creatures to stone with a powerful spell cast by the first light of dawn.

The troll hoard they found nearby was no dragon hoard, but there were fresh weapons for the dwarves, a new set of robes and a few spells for Baranor, and a Rare sword for Dirhael that also doubled as a spellcasting focus through the gemstone pommel. There was also more than a little non-cursed gold for all of them.

Lord Elrond welcomed them in without hesitation, and already had rooms prepared for them to rest in before they began work on deciphering the secrets of the map. Talion shrugged off his armor and dumped it into a chair in the corner of the room; the elf lord had said he would send someone to collect it so it could be repaired before they set out again.

Ioreth entered the room soon after him, and pulled off her own outer robe, adding it to the repair pile. Then she sat down next to him on the bench and, even though he was decidedly less than perfectly clean, started teasing a few small braids into his hair. In real life, military regulations prevented him from keeping his hair the length he'd had it most of his life, but the game world let return it to the usual, even though the texture was a little off. Ioreth didn't seem to mind, though, and worked a trio of small braids behind one of his ears before the elf came to collect their gear and direct them to the baths.

They were public baths but underground and incredibly quiet despite the stone walls. Lanterns hung near the ceiling at regular intervals, illuminating the cavernous space. There was one massive pool at the center, steaming, which was where the dwarves were, splashing and chasing each other. Talion and Ioreth elected to claim one of the empty cubicle-like rooms off the main hall; the pools there were smaller, cooler, filled by little streams spilling from the main pool, but they were quieter, more private, and most importantly not full of dwarves cheering as some of their number tried to wrestle.

"They have so much energy I'm almost jealous," Talion sighed, undoing the tie to let the cloth door fall across the entrance, then dropping his tunic and trousers on a bench that ran along one wall before sinking into the pool.

"It's just the game that's making us feel fatigued, love," Ioreth said, pulling off her dress before joining him in the water, "You'll feel better when we log out for the day."

"Oh, if only," the man laughed softly, and gently gathered her against his side, leaning his head against her own.

"Rough week?"

"In a manner of speaking. The rebels have been stepping up their attacks. We're supposed to be getting more men soon to help, but it's slow going. Bureaucracy."

Ioreth made an irritated noise. "I'm familiar. Here's hoping they get off their butts soon and get to work."

Talion let his head fall back and actually laughed. "Hope springs eternal, love. You have more faith than I do."

"We can always dream."

They bathed each other using a bar of some kind of elven soap that smelled of nothing in particular but the absence of scent, then sat and just soaked in the water for many long minutes, letting the gentle heat soothe their muscles after so many days on the road.

As much as they wanted to, though, they couldn't stay there forever, so they got out, dried off, redressed, and sought out Lord Elrond together with the dwarves. They found the elf in his study, bent over his desk and examining the map. He was almost petting part of the parchment, towards the lower right corner, eyeing it intently with a slight frown. "There is indeed a hidden message here," he said to them all without looking up, "When I run my fingers over it, right here, I can just make out the impression of writing from long ago. But now the question becomes how to reveal it."

He murmured a soft spell, and the map shimmered but no writing appeared. The elf hummed and continued peering at it, lifting it up to get a closer look - but then he paused, and angled the map towards the window. Talion saw the ghost of silvery script in the corner Elrond had been examining. "Cirth ithil?" the elf murmured, "Can it truly be so simple as that? Come with me."

He led them all out to a hidden platform behind one of the waterfalls spilling into the valley below, Gandalf joining them on the way. There he laid the map on a massive slab of crystal there, which caught the light of the moon now shining down on them and refracted it up through the top. Now the script was clear for them all to read. "'Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole,'" Elrond read aloud.

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked, leaning in a little to get a better look at the map, "When is that?"

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, if I recall rightly," said the Istari, "when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together."

The dwarves began debating amongst themselves almost immediately. "We'll never make it," Balin was saying, "not this year. Summer is passing, and Autumn has already fallen on some places in Middle-earth." He gestured pointedly towards the valley below, which during the day was now a riot of green turning to gold and orange and red. "It's too far - even if we go through Khazad-dûm, it's too far south; it will add too many days to our journey when we already need to go around Mirkwood."

"There are other paths through the mountains," said Dwalin, "and we can cut through the forest. A straight shot."

"There is a reason those passes were closed, brother," Balin insisted, "and why the Gap of Rohan has only just reopened. These mountains are dangerous. And I've not heard anything good of Mirkwood either - rumors say that something now dwells in that forest, corrupts it, makes even the Elven Road unsafe."

"We can do something about that, at least," Dirhael said to the arguing dwarves, "Dad has a bow that's enchanted so he can't get lost in Mirkwood. He can lead us through."

Dwalin grinned triumphantly at that, and even Balin looked hopeful. Still, he said, "That doesn't change the danger of the mountains. I was talking with some of the guards here earlier; they say goblins seem to just keep coming up out of the rock here, and even if you think you cleared them out behind you, there will be more waiting when you turn for home."

His brother let out a disparaging snort. "We can handle a few goblins. We killed dozens on the way here."

Balin made a noise that said he wasn't so sure.

In the end, it was Thorin who broke the stalemate. He was determined to try for the mountain that same year, and declared that since they had a guide through Mirkwood, they would go through the passes of the Misty Mountains. Elrond did not think it wise but provisioned them anyway and sent them on their way.

Gandalf led the way into the mountains, following the same path that he had taken earlier to and from Rhovanion. Yet on the way they encountered a party of nearly two dozen goblins led by an Orc captain not too far beyond the border Rivendell's patrols maintained. It was a hard fight - made more so because the captain was resistant to magic - but their party took it down and kept moving.

The further they went into the mountains, the more common the goblins became, and eventually they had to stop for the night; it became too dark to see the narrow ledge they were shuffling along. Fortunately they encountered a small but dry cave not too long after full dark, and they hurried inside, glad to be out of both the rain and the stone giants hurling boulders at each other on a nearby ridge.

You are Chilled! Received Slow Debuff - Movement speed reduced by 10%.

Talion groaned but didn't dare remove his armor, even though the mail felt like ice where it sometimes brushed bare skin. The Third Cloak of Arachnida was completely waterproof and had kept a lot of the rain off - but only when it was falling straight down. Unfortunately, the mountain passes acted like funnels for the wind, sending the rain into their faces in needle-sharp bursts of cold. He was soaked through, and so was everyone else.

Gandalf waved his staff through the air in the cave, and the air rapidly warmed and dried, leaving them all much more comfortable than before. But their dinner was still cold that night; they didn't dare start a fire with so many foes around.

The adventurers sat on watch that night while the others slept, talking quietly amongst themselves - until both Talion and Bilbo sat bolt upright when there was a series of quiet clicks further back in the cave. They looked at each other in alarm -

-and the cave floor fell out from under the whole party, pitching them headlong into a line of jerry-rigged chutes ending in a haphazard wooden cage swarming with cackling goblins. Talion whipped Urfael (Level 4) from its sheath and took the heads off three of the creatures when they got too close. Gandalf had vanished at some point during the fall - and so had Bilbo? - but the rest of them were herded tightly together and jostled along a long, rickety bridge, through a series of rough-hewn tunnels, and out onto a creaking, precariously built platform, where the biggest, ugliest goblin any of them had ever seen waited for them, with dozens of attendants. There were thousands more goblins crawling over other platforms elsewhere in the massive cavern, but their attention was on the one in front of them.

The Great Goblin (Level 85): The king of the goblins in the Misty Mountains. Not the strongest or the wisest but by far the most wickedly devious - though that doesn't necessarily mean much; he is still a goblin.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" the goblin sneered, his deep voice echoing even over the shrieks and shouts of the other goblins, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

"Dwarves and adventurers, Your Malevolence," said another goblin, an adjutant of some kind who'd helped herd them along through the caverns.

"Dwarves and adventurers?" the Great Goblin repeated, eyeing the party with disdain, "And what are you doing in these parts? Speak!" When none of the party responded, still reeling, he snarled, "Well then, if they will not talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest."

He pointed to Ori, but then Thorin stepped forward. "Wait."

The Great Goblin was surprised, then deviously amused. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór; King under the Mountain." He gave an exaggerated bow, before looking up again as if in sudden realization. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And, you're not a king. Which makes you - nobody, really." His expression turned wicked, an evil grin displaying jagged, rotting teeth. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg."

Talion looked over in time to see Thorin stiffen. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed," the dwarf said fiercely, "He was slain in battle long ago."

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" the Great Goblin returned, and laughed before turning to one of his many attendants, this one tinier than any others, sitting in a basket on a line. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize."

The little goblin marked it down on his slate - Talion was briefly shocked it could read, let alone write - before pulling a lever and going whizzing off into the dark, cackling the whole way.

But then their party was chivvied into a corner while all manner of torture devices were hauled up from the depths, the goblins all singing horrible songs about all the gruesome things they were going to do to the party - until Thorin drew his sword, the one taken from the troll-hoard. Then many of the goblins shrieked and threw themselves back, trying to get away from the gleaming elvish blade. "I know that sword!" the Great Goblin screamed, "It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks! Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!"

Talion got Ioreth behind him as fast as he could with Dirhael, Idril, and Baranor on her remaining sides. With the four of them repelling attacks on every side, Ioreth was able to gather her Mana all at once, then cast several buffs over the entire party in quick succession - base health and health regeneration boosts, base stamina and stamina regeneration boosts, protect from melee, protect from ranged, protect from magic, and then a relatively new one she'd picked up on one of their recent quests, called Aura of the Valar.

Aura of the Valar (Mage Classes, 1500 Mana): This spell surrounds the target with a holy aura that causes unbearable agony in any dark or otherwise fell being in range, which is equal to your Wisdom score in meters. Dark creatures take 250 holy damage per second while they remain in range of the Aura, which does not heal naturally over time.

The goblins were in screaming flight, even before Gandalf returned in a blast of light that threw dozens of them off the edges of the platform. Then everything was lost in a furious blur as everyone started fighting to escape, though the Istari managed to organize the dwarves and adventurers into a group and led them through the rickety shantytown the goblins called home. It was a furious rush, and Talion lost count of how many of the creatures he cut down, only that it was enough that he was halfway to Level 37 when the Great Goblin burst up through the bridge in front of them, his skull-headed staff in hand. "You thought you could escape me?!" he roared, and swung his staff like a mace.

Everyone ducked, including the Ranger, but he also swung Urfael upward - and cleaved off the Great Goblin's arm just below the elbow. The goblin shrieked in pain and staggered back, clutching at the stump of his arm, which gave Gandalf the opening he needed. With the sword he'd taken from the troll hoard, the Istari cut him open at the waist, almost all the way to his spine despite his size, and then, when he fell to his knees, chopped the Great Goblin's head off.

Talion had dealt him some damage, and the party still had XP Share on, so there were several cheerful ding!s as the adventurers all leveled up-

Bronze Boss Great Goblin (Level 85) defeated! Received 500 silver, 350 copper. Received 5 rough amethysts, 2 rough moonstones, 1 rough garnet.

-and somewhere in the darkness below, a few answering chimes reached their ears.

Ioreth understood first. "Bilbo?!" she shouted down into the dark even as they resumed their run, but if there was any response, it was inaudible over the sounds of their pounding feet and the rattling of the makeshift goblin town. "Follow us if you can, Bilbo! Idril!"

The barbarian put her fingers to her lips and let out a deafening whistle that echoed through the caverns; with the way the sound traveled and bounced off the stone, it could probably be heard for miles. A sure draw for the more distant goblins, but the party needed to stick together.

The goblin town was a terrible maze that had to have been generated by the AI, Talion thought absently as they continued their sprint, because there was no way a human being had the patience to create this mess. It was a tangle of bridges and buildings and platforms layered dozens deep, one on top of the other, constructed of fragments of plank and bits of rope and bent nails in the rough image of human shantytowns from the old days when humanity had been Earth-bound-

Was it his imagination? Were the structures starting to thin?

"We're almost to the far side of the mountains!" Gandalf shouted, "Only a little farther! There should be an exit somewhere ahead of us and down!"

They were.

Idril whistled again, all of them hoping that Bilbo was keeping up somewhere below them, and they nearly flew down to what seemed to be ground level, through a series of jagged tunnels, and - daylight. There was daylight ahead, golden light slanting through an opening in the rock. The briefest check of the menu clock said it was nearing sunset in Middle-earth, but hopefully these last few minutes of light would give them enough of a lead to evade their pursuers; it seemed like they were carrying aggro for the whole goblin nation.

There was a shout off to one side, and Talion paused for only a moment to look.

There was a side tunnel leading off into the dark, and Bilbo was sprinting out of it towards him as fast as his legs could carry him, face pale and eyes wide. "Something's down here - it's chasing me!" he cried, and Talion scooped him up, turned, and triggered one of his magical abilities - Surge.

The world whipped past in a blur, the cave entrance vanishing behind them, and they slowed to a stop just in time to avoid crashing into those starting to lag behind, gasping for breath. "Assign your points, quick!" Talion shouted to the other adventurers, "The more you can put into stamina the better! We don't have much time before they'll follow! Ioreth!"

"Already on it!" The cleric refreshed their buffs as fast as she could - then stopped. "Oh no."

A Warg pack had crested a nearby hill, some with riders and some without. All the riders were orcs, led by the Pale Orc on a white Warg.

Azog the Defiler (Level 150).

Azog shouted something to the others, and many of them raced down the hill right for the party, howling in bloodthirsty glee.

"Out of the frying pan..." Thorin gasped.

"...and into the fire!" Gandalf finished, similarly winded, "Run! RUN!"

They all fled down the mountain as fast as they could, gasping and stumbling into a copse of trees before starting to climb. Idril was the first one up, and Talion called her name before tossing Bilbo up to her. The nobleman sputtered but didn't protest, knowing that with the height of the branches it was very likely he wouldn't have been able to make it up on his own. The Ranger made sure everyone else had scrambled up into at least the lower branches before accepting a hand from Ioreth and letting her pull him up into her tree. Once there, he pulled out his bow and took aim. It was hard to shoot through the trees in the growing dark, but the Wargs weren't exactly small or quiet targets.

He felt more than saw Ioreth stand up on the branches above him, and she shouted a spell-

A wave of white hot fire lanced down from above him and hit several Wargs head on, turning them to ash almost instantly. Others received only a glancing blow, but for some it was still fatal. They went down even as the fire started to spread, crackling through the dry grass. Baranor's voice joined Ioreth's, and the fire turned bright, electric blue like burning sulfur, fanning out in a line that divided their trees from the Wargs.

It wasn't enough. It seemed like the orcs had at least one spellcaster of their own, because before Talion could figure out which one it was and put an arrow through them, they shouted something, and a gap opened up in the fire line, letting the others through.

Ioreth cursed foully enough to make Talion look up at her with wide eyes; he hadn't realized she'd paid that much attention to some of the language his fellow soldiers used, because he knew she hadn't learned all of that from him. Then she pointed Ithildin and said another spell - and this one Talion recognized.

Hydro Blast.

The wide jet of water turned all the trees in its path to splinters, broke the bodies of the orcs and Wargs on the rocks of the mountain, but there were still more of them coming - not as many as before, but still enough to be a danger.

Whatever Baranor had done to the fire had turned it into a fully magical one, and so Hydro Blast failed to put it out. But where the spells met, the water turned to boiling hot steam, and it seemed that the orc spellcaster didn't know what to do about that. None of them could get through the sizzling cloud.

The dwarves hooted and hollered at that, and shouted insults in all manner of languages.

A soft white light washed over them all. When Talion looked back, he saw Gandalf had climbed as high up his tree as he possibly could and was holding up his staff, the crystal in the top glowing with a bright but gentle light. He seemed to be trying to signal someone-

A simply massive bird of prey swooped out of the night and snatched one of the dwarves from their tree, much to their alarm. More followed, and Talion was able to quickly tag one for identification - Great Eagles: Creations of Manwë and the lords of all birds, Great Eagles are one of the fiercest predators of the sky, known to hunt even dragons if they intrude on their territory. Though rare in Middle-earth, it is known that there is an eyrie somewhere in the Misty Mountains.

Well, it looked like their party had found it, or at least the Eagles that lived in it. When one looked to be coming for him, he hurriedly stowed his bow in his inventory so it wouldn't get damaged and let the enormous bird scoop him up in its claws.

He looked back in time to see the last - and apparently the only one with an actual name, "Gwaihir" - dive just so and let Gandalf jump onto his back. The orc spellcaster, whoever it was, threw some spells after them, but they fell short - especially when Ioreth threw another one of the fire spells back at them; that must have been the Flame Blast she received from the Balrog raid dungeon.

And then they were away, and Talion held tight to the Eagle's legs - though not tight enough to cause pain - and very pointedly did not look down. He wasn't afraid of heights like some people he knew, but that didn't mean he wanted to see how far he had to fall if the Eagle decided to let him drop.

But the Eagle didn't, and neither did any of the others. They brought all their passengers in for a gentle - or as gentle as possible - landing near a strange bear-shaped rock identified as "the Carrock". Gandalf thanked them in Quenya and spoke at length with Gwaihir, though what about Talion couldn't say, and he didn't want to ask Ioreth to translate and make obvious the fact that they were eavesdropping. Instead he did a quick cast of Create Food and Water and passed out the porridge-looking stuff it conjured.

It was just as bland and unappetizing as the spell had made it sound, and the pinches of salt and dried sage he added didn't do much to help. Still, they all choked it down; they were hungry and thirsty after their frantic flight through the goblin tunnels, and they needed every bit of strength they could muster to continue their journey. The Eagles had carried them a fair distance, but even so the orcs were on Wargs; once they collected themselves, they wouldn't be too far behind.

Gandalf finished his conversation with Gwaihir and led their party on, with Talion and Bilbo in the lead as scouts. He told them which direction to go and they did - until they stumbled across a bear just as alarmingly large as the Great Eagles. It didn't attack them, however; it seemed far more interested in the orcs following them from the west. They slipped past it and found the house Gandalf had spoken of, and Talion secured the area while Bilbo went back to get everyone else.

The enormous bear did not return before the others arrived, and the adventurers stood watch while the NPCs bedded down for what was left of the night. Talion and Ioreth sat on the roof of the house, the Priestess leaning against the Ranger's side. "I wonder how everyone's doing right now," she said softly, looking towards the Misty Mountains, "I remember you mentioned Torvin wanting to hunt dragons, so I sent him a message when we got back in. He said he and Deri were taking some of the newbies to see Tyelpë about some cheap but decent armor."

Talion hummed quietly, and Ioreth smiled. "Yes, I'm glad everyone likes our elf friend, too. I just don't see how any of them are going to catch up with us in time to fight this dragon."

"Well, the quest says we need to reach Erebor," said the Ranger, "Maybe fighting Smaug will be some kind of raid dungeon - or maybe an event, 'cause as I understand it this is going to be a one-time thing. Unless it's like - I don't know how to put it. A quest-restricted area? Where individual players have to complete a quest to get access to the location, and until then they can't enter?"

"You think Smaug is a quest boss? Respawns for each player? Or party, as the case may be."

"I have no idea. He might be." Talion checked the menus. "See, right here. It says we're supposed to have boss events too, but the only ones I've seen so far have been seasonal and holiday-themed. Maybe we have to discover the boss events - or at least this one."

"Maybe. But we won't know until we get there."

"Agreed."

The next morning they all had a rather harrowing meeting with the owner of the cabin, a skin-changer by the name of Beorn, who had been the bear they saw the previous night. But Gandalf was clever about introducing them all, so he welcomed them as guests in his house. "So you are the one they call Oakenshield," he said to Thorin, his voice a low rasp from all the roaring they'd heard last night, "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

"You know of Azog? How?"

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand," Beorn continued, "but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

Ioreth inhaled quietly, and Talion followed her gaze to see manacles still clamped around the skin-changer's wrists, a few links of chain dangling from the bonds.

"There are others like you?" said Dirhael.

"Once there were many."

"And now?"

"Now, there is only one." None of them knew what to say to that, but fortunately Beorn didn't let the silence linger. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes," Gandalf answered.

"You are running out of time."

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."

"A darkness lies upon that forest, and fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur; I would not venture there except in great need."

Gandalf seemed surprised and horrified at the news of the Necromancer, but whatever his thoughts were, he forged ahead. "We will take the Elven Road. That path is still safe."

"Safe?" Beorn snorted with disdain, "The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin who went West and then returned. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not."

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs and Wargs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive."

The dwarves' expressions were a mix of shock and resignation. Beorn rose from his chair and gently scooped up a pure white mouse that had been moving around between the plates, shooed this way and that by some of the company. "I don't like dwarves," the skin-changer rumbled, "They're greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." He stroked the mouse for a few seconds, then looked to Thorin. "But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?"

By midmorning they were on their way, riding some of Beorn's ponies with fresh supplies, since the goblins had taken theirs when they were captured. Still, it took them almost a full day to reach the Elven Road through Mirkwood - and Talion was the only one who noticed Beorn following them in bear form at a distance. He inclined his head to the skin-changer, and received a subtle nod in response.

The moment they arrived at the archway that marked the beginning of the Elven Road, Talion wanted to turn around and leave. Bilbo put it best; "This forest feels… sick. As if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?"

"Not unless we go two hundred miles north," Gandalf answered, "or twice that distance... south..."

Talion pulled out his Wildwood Elven Bow and kept it in his hand as he followed the Istari the first few steps down the path. There seemed to have once been a courtyard of sorts there at the entrance to the forest, with statues and arches and a fountain of cool water at the center. Now it was overgrown by dark and heavy vines, the cobblestones cracked, and the fountain was a stagnant pool of slime. Logically Talion knew (from vague memories of biology class in school some years ago) that algae such as this produced nearly a full 75% of the oxygen humans and animals breathed, and so it was of the utmost importance to life - but that didn't mean he had any desire to try and get water from the scum-covered fountain for their trek through the forest. He made a face at it, then returned his attention to the wizard.

Gandalf was warily approaching one of the statues and laid a hand on some of the vines, then yanked them back, revealing a symbol painted on the statue's side in red: a stylized eye. "The All-Seeing Eye of Sauron," the Istari murmured.

Sauron, Morgoth's servant in the east. "I thought he was hiding in Mordor," Talion said quietly, "That's more than five hundred miles away, and Númenor even further. What's his symbol doing so far inland?"

"I don't know," Gandalf answered, "but I mean to find out." He turned back and strode towards the archway. "Not my horse! I need it!"

"You're leaving?!" Dirhael yelped, "Now?!"

"I would not do this unless I had to," he answered, swinging back up onto his horse, "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me." He shot Thorin a sharp look, then continued, "This is not the Greenwood of old. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray."

"'Lead us astray?'" Baranor repeated, "What does that mean?"

"You must stay on the path; do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again," the wizard warned before turning his horse away and galloping south, "No matter what may come, stay on the path!"

"Talion," said Ioreth, and everyone looked to him.

"Right," said the Ranger, "We need rope. Everyone grab on in a line, wrap it around your wrist if it'll help, but don't tie yourselves up in case we need to fight. I'll be at the front. Dirhael, with me; Ioreth, Baranor, you two in the middle, and Idril, Bilbo, you're the rear guard. Keep a sharp eye; we don't know what's really in these woods."

When everyone was as secure as they could afford to get, they started through the archway and along the deeply shaded path. It wasn't long at all before the entrance vanished from sight, and barely a second later there were alarmed noises from all the adventurers - except for Talion. "What?" he asked, "What is it?"

"Heads-up display and a bunch of menus are disabled! Almost everything except for logging out!" Baranor called up.

"I can't pull up the compass or the minimap either," Dirhael added, swiping futilely at the air.

"Inventory?"

"Still got that, but it's manual only - no using the menu for searching or taking stock. What about you? You still good?"

The Ranger checked quickly. "Yeah, I'm good - whoa."

His bow - or more accurately its leaf-and-vine carvings - glowed with a soft green light under the canopy, and little motes of that same light drifted around the body of the bow.

Wildwood Elven Bow "Elven Clarity" benefit active: You cannot become lost in Mirkwood.

"All right," Dirhael said, drawing his sword and briefly rolling his wrist to ready himself for any fighting to come, "Lead the way, Dad."

Talion quickly set a waypoint on the far side of the forest, then looped the rope around his wrist, strung an arrow, and continued along the path snaking through the trees.

As the day wore on and they followed the Elven Road deeper into the trees, the light filtering through the leaves overhead became grey and gloomy. The air grew humid and unnaturally heavy, and Talion noticed a few of the others starting to stumble a little like they were getting tipsy. "Dirhael?" he whispered, "You all right?"

"Feels weird, Dad," the paladin mumbled, "Can't really focus on anything for too long, and even though I know it's gotta be dark as fuck and quiet as fuck down here, the sunlight's too bright, and our feet sound like gunshots. If we end up in a fight, you're gonna have to drop us, 'cause we're not gonna do anyone any good, not even ourselves."

"...I'll take that under advisement," the Ranger said finally.

In a couple of places, the path crossed a sluggish and soupy stream of dark water winding through the trees. Talion couldn't think of any way to describe it other than "it smells like sleep". In at least one of those places, the bridge had fallen into the river, and the Ranger had to physically carry the rest of the party across while keeping a tight hold on his still-glowing bow.

Yet as they continued to walk, Talion became aware that their progress through the forest - such as it was - was being watched. By who or what he didn't know, but he kept his bow strung and an arrow nocked, and glanced back frequently to make sure that everyone was still holding onto the rope.

By his estimate, they were about two-thirds of the way through the forest when he stopped abruptly, and felt the rest of the party run into his back at the sudden halt.

There was web starting to appear in the branches of the trees, and strung across the disturbed cobblestones of the Elven Road. It was too thick, and in too great a quantity to belong to any normal spider.

Great Spiders. Shit.

The Ranger was reluctant to step off the path to go around the webbing - and having no real way to tell which direction the nest was in certainly didn't help matters - but before he could make a decision, there was a scuffle behind him. He whirled around, drawing the bowstring back in preparation - only to come face to point with an elven arrow.

The party had been suddenly surrounded by Sylvan Elves, all dressed in woodsy greens and browns, homespun cloth and hand-worked leather, and all armed to the teeth with bows and arrows and daggers and swords. Every other member of the party had been disarmed in seconds, and just as fast, there were arrows pointing at Talion from all sides.

"Drop it, adventurer," said the elf who was apparently the leader - a Sindarin Elf, going by the pale gold of his hair and bright blue of his eyes, in bright contrast to the dark browns and rich reds of the others.

The Ranger gritted his teeth, then relaxed his grip and lowered the bow. He flicked the arrow back into his quiver with the others, then unstrung the bow and tossed the string and the quiver at the leader's feet. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't want to leave my mind at the false mercy of your forest."

The elf huffed but allowed him to hang onto the glowing body of the bow while another elf scooped up the string and quiver and a third took Urfael from his belt. Then they were all escorted off the path and into the trees.

The elves moved at speed, and herded the party along between them until at last they reached what looked like a small mountain in the middle of the forest river, which had swelled to a torrent. They were led to another bridge, this one in much better repair than the others they had seen, over the river, thundering past under the narrow arch.

Beyond was a set of thick doors set between stone pillars, standing open for the moment, though heavily guarded by more than a dozen elven archers, all watching the forest intently as they emerged. Their party was herded through the doors and into the cavern beyond, which was elegantly carved in the image of the forest when it had been known as Greenwood the Great. Sunlight filtered in through skylights in the ceiling and lanterns hung on long lines of fine rope, illuminating the massive space. The river, flowing clean within the halls, ran below stone bridges carved like winding root systems. Thick pillars carved like tree trunks rose to the ceiling hundreds of feet overhead. It was as if the Sylvan Elves had uprooted an entire petrified forest to be their home inside the cavern.

Talion peered around as much as he could, trying to get the lay of the land in case they had to fight their way out - and spotted a familiar arch off to one side.

Received 50 gold, 500 XP.

So there was a portal here. Their mages had gotten faster about casting the portal activation spell, so they could use it in a pinch if they needed to get out right away - but it would mean failing the quest and quite possibly having to wait until next year to retry. Even so, Talion nudged Ioreth and jerked his head, and when she saw it, she nodded.

The elves led them down to prison cells in winding tunnels below the main cavern, and there they finally took the body of Talion's bow from him, the glow fading from the carvings the moment it left his hands. The younger members of the party protested their imprisonment, but the older members took the time to rest while they could. "Leave it! There's no way out," Balin called to them, "This is no Orc dungeon; these are the halls of the Woodland Realm! No one leaves here but by the king's consent."

They were treated courteously enough, though; some elves in plainclothes, apparently servants, brought food and water for each of them - but guards came when they had finished, and took Thorin away, though where they were taking him they wouldn't say.

They brought him back an hour later, mad enough to spit nails. When he was locked in his cell again, Balin leaned out. "Did he offer you a deal?"

"He did," Thorin growled, "I told him he could go 'Ish kakhfê ai'd dur rugnu!' - him and all his kin!"

Balin sighed heavily. "Well...that's it, then. A deal was our only hope."

"Not our only hope," the dwarf prince answered, and fell silent, watching as Talion was escorted from his own cell up to the throne.

The chair itself wasn't that impressive, but the presentation more than made up for it: the throne and the stairs leading up to it were carved from a living root stretching down through the rock from some enormous ancient tree somewhere above, and the throne itself was framed by the largest pair of antlers Talion had ever seen, every tine honed to a deadly point. Six pillars of stone ringed the platform where it stood, branching up to the ceiling far more artfully and elegantly than anywhere else in the cavern.

The king - one of the Sindar, like the patrol leader who stood at attention nearby - was seated on the throne in fine robes of velvet cloth and silver thread, running his hands over Talion's bow, now restrung and perhaps oiled a little, if the gleam of the light off the wood was anything to go by. When the Ranger came to a stop at the foot of his throne, the king was silent for a long moment, making him wait, before finally saying, "It is not often we encounter someone bearing one of our bows - but never before have we met someone bearing one of our bows that they did not receive from our hands." The king lowered the bow, and looked Talion dead in the eye. "How did you come by this?"

It was worded as a question, but the tone left no room for refusal. "I won it in a fight against a Balrog," the Ranger answered.

That caused a stir, and Talion used the brief distraction to identify the king - Thranduil Oropherion of Mirkwood, and the other Sindar was his son Legolas. "A Balrog?" Thranduil repeated, incredulous, "There are no Balrogs this far east."

"There is one under the Misty Mountains, in the dwarven city of Khazad-dûm," he replied, "We've been rewarded with random things for keeping it from clawing its way to the surface and making itself everyone else's problem. I got that bow, and this cloak." He turned to show the Third Cloak of Arachnida.

Thranduil seemed to recognize it, or at least guessed what it could do from the spiderweb motif around the hood, shoulders, and bottom hem. "You can speak with the Great Spiders?"

"Supposedly, but I've never yet encountered one to test the theory."

Thranduil hummed, then leaned back on his throne. "Legolas tells me you were at the edge of their nest in the forest when the patrol came upon you. I'm sending them out again, and I want you to go with them, catch one of the spiders and speak to it, find out where they're coming from. Do this, and I will release you and your… companions, despite their appalling disrespect."

"Just me?"

"You may take your fellow adventurers if you think them necessary, though at least one must remain behind."

"Bilbo," Talion said immediately, "the halfling. He's someone of culture; I imagine he'll make a more pleasant hostage than a dozen grumpy dwarves." Because he was a hostage; Thranduil was relying on them to come back for him and the dwarves, rather than just abandoning them in his dungeons.

New Quest Received! World Wide Web: Follow the spiders. Reward: 5000 XP, release from the Elvenking's halls, +100 reputation in the Woodland Realm.

The hobbit was indeed perfectly content to remain behind in the cells, and was happy to have his gear back as well, pulling out a book he'd bought in Rivendell to read. "Keep an eye on the dwarves," Talion murmured to him, "Don't let them get out of hand."

Bilbo had nodded, and the rest of them had set off with the elves, moving as quietly as they could through the forest toward where the spiders' webs fanned out between the trees. Once they reached the edge of the webs, the bulk of the patrol halted, and Talion and Legolas continued on alone. The Ranger used Pass Without Trace like clockwork, and also the Spider Cloak's ability to climb into the trees without the use of his hands, which he used to keep an arrow nocked.

The web got thicker the further they went, and the remains of the spiders' meals started appearing tangled in the strands, left to mummify where they hung from the branches. The Ranger pulled a disgusted face, then slowed his pace further when he started hearing voices up ahead.

"Hungry!" some of the spiders were hissing, "Hungry, hungry, hungry! Need food!"

"No more travelers on the road," one whined, "No more creatures in the woods! Hungry, hungry, hungry!"

"The others in the mountains have started eating each other," said another, "Soon there won't be any of them left. We can go back there in time."

"But still no food! We left because there's no food, while those fools stayed!" a third snapped, then turned almost wistful, "It was better when we lived in the old fortress. There were always travellers coming up from the south, and a few always disappeared on the road. We could snatch them up and take them back into the trees to feast at our leisure…"

"Until that Thing came," hissed a fourth even as more started a chant of 'Feast!', "The Shadow out of the East. It and its army of orcs - good eating, but too many for us! If only Mother was here, we could have taken them!"

"Even Mother wouldn't have been enough!" the third returned, "That Shadow is no mortal Necromancer - it would have destroyed us all. But it draws attention unwisely, unlike us. Someone will soon be along to drive it out, same as it drove us out, and then we can go back and spin our webs again."

Talion looked to Legolas, then jerked his head back.

They returned to the group, and the Ranger told them what he had heard. "It looks like you are correct, Tauriel," Legolas said to a red-haired elf-woman, "They are coming up from the south."

"Indeed," she answered, "but I take no pleasure in it. The king will not permit us to go even to the mountains to crush the last of the spiders here, much less all the way to Dol Guldur to destroy this Shadow that has taken up residence there."

The king's son nodded grimly. "Still, we can put an end to these here, and any we find nearby."

They all fanned out through the trees around the nest - and attacked.