The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth.

Chapter 1071 Camping in the Snow (Happy New Year's Eve, Family!)

“Alright!” Aragorn nodded. Although he didn’t think the wandering orcs could defeat the gathered northern nomads, he remained vigilant and cautious, keeping Roland’s words in mind.

"Then I'll set off first!" Aragorn said goodbye to the group. After all, it would take time to organize the troops, and it wouldn't be easy to gather the wandering nomads of the North.

"Go on! Be careful on the road!" Roland waved to Aragorn and watched him walk away quickly.

"This... he agreed so easily?" Thranduil was impressed by the efficiency of humans.

"What else? That kid has his eye on Elrond's daughter! Not some country bumpkin! He's not good enough for her now, being a chieftain of a nomadic tribe in the Northrend. This is a chance for him to change his fate!" Roland shrugged. Although Aragorn is the first in line to the throne of Gondor, it doesn't mean those nobles accept him, a northerner with no connections. He hasn't humiliated himself by going to Gondor to claim the throne. Historically, he spent decades gaining the support of a group of nobles. Young Aragorn is well aware of his own limitations.

"How can elves and humans have a future?" Thranduil couldn't help but complain. Compared to the long lifespan of elves, the short lifespan of humans was nothing more than a fleeting moment in life. The death of humans was undoubtedly a long torment for elves. Immortality was a curse at this moment!
“You don’t understand that’s love!” Roland said, feigning profundity.

“Whether it’s love or not, I don’t know, but I know that the other one will live the rest of her life in long agony!” Thranduil said bitterly.

"Tsk!" Roland clicked his tongue and glanced helplessly at Thranduil. Didn't they know that lovers could live and die together? In history, after Aragorn's death, Arwyn ultimately chose to give up the immortality that belonged to the elves, and soon passed away along with Aragorn... After all, Arwyn's name also had another meaning—Twilight Star!
"It's none of the young people's business anymore. You're not Elrond! They're not after your daughter. We've rested enough! It's time to get going!" Roland patted Thranduil on the shoulder and said earnestly.

"If it were my daughter, I would probably break that kid's legs..." Thranduil muttered to himself.

"..." Thorin glanced at Thranduil, pursed his lips, and didn't say anything. After all, his nephew had taken a fancy to the elves of Thranduil's family. Back then, Thranduil's face was longer than a donkey's!

……

"Prepare to move out!" Roland looked at the heavily armed army behind him, his heart churning. This was probably the strongest army in the North right now, at least in terms of professional diversity, unmatched by anyone, a fusion of the most elite professionals from the dwarves, elves, and humans! Now Roland was just hoping that some fool would dare to come and test the power of this Middle-earth version of "Gundam" army.

"Your Majesty Roland!" Lind moved closer with a dark face. Although he didn't like Roland, he still showed the proper respect and courtesy expected of an Elf.
"Get your troops moving too! There's not much time to march in winter, and we can't advance in the dark... We have to make the most of the daytime!" Roland said, glancing at the sun. Winter suns don't provide much warmth; they just make the white earth even brighter, making the vast expanse of snow almost dazzling.

“Yes, King Roland!” Lind nodded. He agreed with Roland’s words and was glad that the current supreme commander of the allied forces was not some strange chosen one. At least he was somewhat human in terms of command. If they had to march in the dark, Lind would have died on the spot.

"Whoa!" The dwarves excitedly swung their axes and warhammers, kicking up snowdrifts along the way in the snowfield, their laughter echoing throughout the land.

"How optimistic!" Bard rubbed his hands together enviously. Humans didn't have the thick layer of fat and sturdy build of dwarves. In the cold wind, human soldiers carried their weapons and held their cloaks over their heads, advancing silently. Only the sounds of armor clashing with weapons could be heard.

"You can't envy that, dwarves have very high resistance!" Omske looked at Bard with pity and shook his head regretfully. As a sixth-tier hero, he was naturally not afraid of the wind and snow, but other ordinary soldiers and low-level professionals were in a bad situation. They could only rely on their clothes and battle aura to tough it out.

"Thorin! This won't do! Send the dwarves to the front to clear the way!" Roland was at his wits' end looking at the human alliance, who were stumbling through the snow. Even the usually arrogant Lagrange knights were behaving themselves, dismounting and leading their horses as they moved through the snow.

"By Turin! I swear on my beard I have never seen such a comical sight!" Thorin shook his head, barely suppressing his laughter, as he watched the procession struggling like penguins through the snow. "Children of Turin! Warriors of the dwarves! Forward!" Thorin drew his Oakrist, took a deep breath, and roared.

In an instant, the dwarf army split into two groups, jogging around the human army in front and quickly blocking the way. With the dwarves clearing the way, the army's speed increased significantly, while the elves gracefully lagged behind, following at a leisurely pace.

"Seriously, putting on airs!" Marquis Al-Tegran Franz looked at the nonchalant elves. They carried scimitars and longbows, wore green cloaks, and held their right hands outstretched in front of their chests in a gesture of resistance. A transparent shield surrounded them, keeping the wind and snow at bay, and the elven rangers inside didn't even have their hair disheveled...

“What is that?” Roland asked in a low voice.

“Ring of Resistance! It was originally a skill meant to prevent close-range attacks, but they’re using it to block the wind! With this kind of consumption, can they even hold out until they set up camp?” Marquis Al-Tegran Franz muttered.

"It's alright. Elves value style over life. Let's ignore them. Thranduil treasures his people like the back of his hand and won't let them freeze to death. The Valley Elves are even less of a concern! Lind knows what he's doing!" Roland waved his hand. Elves are a race with elegance ingrained in their bones, so it's normal for them to value style.

……

"No! The snow is too heavy! Set up camp! Stop advancing!" Roland roared from his horse, his voice echoing across the wasteland amplified by his battle aura.

"What's wrong, King Roland?" Linde rode up from behind and asked Roland.

"What happened?" A snowball rolled over quickly from the front line. Everyone looked closely and saw that it was Thorin, who was covered in snowflakes!
"We can't go any further! The snow is too heavy! Let's set up camp!" Roland repeated.

“We can hold on! We can travel for a few more hours.” Thorin looked at the sky; it was still quite bright. He then looked at Roland and said.

"Humans can't hold on! Humans can't take it anymore!" Roland shouted as he approached, then pointed at the staggering human soldiers. Just because the dwarves and elves are alright doesn't mean the fragile humans are alright!

"Are you sure! This is the area of ​​the Troll Forest! We're in danger!" Lind warned, frowning.

“If we keep going, we’ll suffer non-combat casualties!” Roland said with a dark face. He could accept combat losses, but he could not accept losing combat effectiveness due to environmental factors.

"Strengthen vigilance tonight!" Roland finally said through gritted teeth. Did the ogres dare to sneak out in the middle of the night?

P.S.: Happy Lunar New Year's Eve, brothers! Please send me red envelopes as a reward!

Brothers, I'm back! Here's my New Year's Eve update. Please send me red envelopes and tips! Wishing you all good health, all the best, and continuous success in the new year! Happy Year of the Horse, brothers!