Forge the sword and set off

At the end of December, on the day known as Christmas in many worlds, a team of ten men was about to set out from Rivendell in the direction of Mordor.

For more than two months, the customs of Rivendell consumed all the dangers and tensions experienced by several small hobbits from the past period, and this magical elven kingdom made them forget the difficulties and obstacles they encountered on the way they came, and also made them abandon the unknown journey that was coming, they were immersed in laughter and laughter all day long, and fully enjoyed the hope of each day. And those futures have never disappeared in their hearts, but whether they are beautiful or dark, those things that have not yet come cannot affect these happy little hobbits. They begin to feel energetic and hopeful, enjoying life to the fullest every day, tasting good food, listening to every line of dialogue and song.

Of course, apart from these carefree hobbits, the rest of the people are not so optimistic about what is to come. Aragorn gathered a small group of rangers, and he surveyed the road ahead with the scouts sent by King Elron, the last of whom were the two princes of King Elon - they did not arrive until Zhao Mian had extinguished the fire in the furnace, which was already the middle of December.

No minions from Mordor were found in a large area, and the Ring Spirits who had been chasing Frodo had lost their traces - Zhao Mian had heard that an elven nobleman named Grofendale had taught them a lesson, and he had used the power of the river to expel them. Of course, the Ringwraiths themselves would not die so easily, but their horses, though they were the best of a thousand, were no match for the roar of nature, and the Ringwraiths, without their mounts, seemed to have returned to their base under the evil command - the demon king there should have made other arrangements for them.

Two months is not a short time, and Zhao Mian has prepared enough weapons for this team - of course, although he can't make bows, Zhao Mian has made a lot of armor-piercing arrows from the few remaining Saron Evil Iron on his body, and these arrows have demonstrated their great power after being tested by the elves. But in fact, the equipment needed to build the team didn't take that long, and even counting those Saron Evil Iron Arrows, the number of two hundred was only three days. But Zhao Mian was also stumped by other things, he spent a whole day thinking about how to rebuild the Elendil holy sword that Aragon had always carried with him, he was not familiar with the forging techniques in this world, and he didn't know how this weapon was forged, so he spent a month studying the forging techniques of the elves, and then with the forging process of Azeroth itself, he reforged the holy sword.

Although the holy sword has become fragments, Zhao Mian can still feel the strong smell of magic emanating from it, this weapon must have a very powerful protection before it is shattered, and even now it is broken, it is still ensuring that the sword body is not tainted by mortal dust. Zhao Mian threw the fragments into the furnace - but the churning flames couldn't melt the fragments easily, so he added some Eternal Flames to make the weapon more receptive to change. But it was not enough to simply reforge on the basis of the past, those broken fragments were already missing some fine fragments and could not be recovered, so Zhao Mian thought for a long time - until those fragments completely melted into a liquid state, he reached out and took out the few remaining demonic essentia ingots from his space bag and put them into the blazing furnace.

It took Zhao Mian three full days to get out of the blacksmith shop and hand a sword in a scabbard made entirely of Mithril to the hands of Aragorn, who had been waiting for a long time. For three days, there was not a single pause in the tapping of the blacksmith's shop, and one could even see bursts of bright light erupting from the blacksmith's shop from time to time, the same light that had appeared in all of Rivendell more than a month ago.

Aragorn looked at the sword in his hand.

The sun and moon shone faintly on the hilt, and near the scabbard a jewel that seemed to burn with flame separated the blade from the hilt - no, maybe not, Aragorn could even feel the scorching power coming from there, the inside of the jewel was burning.

He grasped the hilt of the sword—the heavy leather that had been wound around the handle was so sweat-absorbent that it was very comfortable for his hand—and he paused for a moment, and then, without hesitation, he drew the sword which he had worn all along, and which had remained largely untouched except for the three days.

For a moment everyone felt that all the light around them had dimmed, and a quiet light with a heart-warming power was shining in Aragorn's hands, and the two pedestrians who were arguing not far away stopped arguing abruptly, and they were silent for a moment, as if feeling the light, and then one of them turned away.

"Order, bravery......" Aragorn came back to his senses and looked at the blade of the sword, on which Zhao Mian engraved some words in some unknown font, Aragorn did not recognize, but as if some kind of power was guiding him, he muttered these two words - with his words, the jewel set in the hilt of the sword began to burn violently, not only in it, but the whole sword burned, as if someone had poured a layer of oil on it and then ignited it. Aragorn looked at the flames wrapped around his hand with some amazement, the white flames seemed to urge him—he swung his sword lightly, and hit a stone pillar not far away, such force did not cause any damage to the stone, but the flame set the whole stone pillar on fire at once, as if it was not a stone pillar that was burning, but a pile of hay.

“…… Anduriel. Aragorn stroked the blade of the sword with his hand, the pure white flames wrapped around his arm as if they were spiritual, but did no harm to him, "This sword is no longer properly named, it should be called Anduriel - the Flame of the West!"

"That's your power. Zhao Mian shrugged his shoulders, stretched a little tiredly, and turned to leave, "As for me, I think the warm bed in the hotel is a good choice." ”

December 25 is not as much anticipated as Christmas on Earth. It was a gloomy day, and although the climate in Rivendell was always the same, the chill of nature could be felt as you stepped out of the city—the east wind swept through the bare tree trunks and through the dark pine forests of the hills, and the broken clouds rolled low and dark in the sky.

The point of this trip was to act stealthily, not to fight in a strong way, so with the exception of the dwarven representatives Jin Li and Zhao Mian, everyone was dressed in some light clothes - although even the lightest in such a harsh climate could only look very bloated. However, King Ailong still looked at Zhao Mian's heavy plate armor and frowned - everyone present tried the plate armor provided by Zhao Mian, especially Boromo and Jin Li, but except for Zhao Mian, no one could wear such a heavy plate armor and be able to travel long distances, because it was too heavy.

The sky was getting darker, and the time to set off was almost there.