Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

Minas Tirith.

After throwing his longsword, Gandalf no longer paid attention to the battle in the sky.

His two-meter-long staff swung with force, showcasing his superb martial skills that continued to drive back the orcs.

In mid-air, Ino launched two successive powerful spells before retreating on his flying broomstick.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flying towards him.

Although protected by the Iron Armor spell, it was unnecessary to take risks when he could avoid the threat.

However, the incoming object seemed to have a homing system, changing direction to follow him.

...

A longsword floated beside his broomstick.

The entire blade was over a meter long, ornate and elegant. Intricate runes were carved into the blade, as if imbued with the essence of countless stars.

This was Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, forged by the High Elves in the Second Age.

Time seemed to flash back a hundred years, to Beorn's courtyard in the early morning.

But now, the sword had returned to him in a different manner.

Unlike the previous rejection, this time Ino naturally grasped the hilt.

With his wand in his left hand and the sword in his right, he didn't waste any time, charging towards the Witch-king of Angmar with the Iron Armor spell still active.

In the sky, seeing Ino abandon his magic seemed to relax the Witch-king, whose Morgul blade ignited with dark flames.

"Foolish! No man can kill me!"

The leader of the nine Ringwraiths finally spoke.

Ino didn't bother to respond to such crude provocation.

The Witch-king's taunt aimed to make him abandon magic and engage in a sword fight, which was exactly what he intended.

Perhaps under the influence of the Ring of Power, the Witch-king could be immune to all weapons' damage, but he forgot that some weapons were naturally effective against dark creatures.

Just as in the original story, when the Hobbit Merry delivered a fatal blow with a dagger forged by Westernese smiths.

As Ino gripped the sword tightly, the aerial battle shifted from long-range to close combat.

...

At the same time.

The battle on the ground was also turning decisively.

The Rohirrim cavalry, cutting through the orcs, made them seem like lambs to the slaughter. Naturally cowardly, the orcs offered no resistance.

Meanwhile, in the defense of Minas Tirith, despite the humans being vastly outnumbered, their high morale led to an orderly and effective clearing of the orcs.

Just as everyone anticipated victory, a horn sounded from the southwest.

Unlike the bold horn of the Rohirrim charge, this one sounded eerie.

The ground trembled slightly.

On the battlefield, all the Rohirrim cavalry witnessed a shocking scene.

A gigantic figure over a hundred meters tall, with six thick tusks bound with blades, the Mumakil of the Haradrim had joined the fray.

More than twenty war elephants formed a line, resembling a moving mountain range. This apocalyptic scene struck fear into everyone's hearts.

The fear stemmed not just from their immense size, but also from their indiscriminate bloodthirstiness.

The massive Mumakil trampled over everything, orcs and trolls alike, crushing them into pulp, some impaled on the blades affixed to their tusks.

Despite the seemingly insurmountable odds, Théoden blew the horn to rally his forces.

The scattered Rohirrim regrouped on the Pelennor Fields.

From an initial five thousand, the cavalry now numbered just over three thousand, thanks to their superior armor.

Although they had achieved significant results, Théoden knew that against the enormous Mumakil, only a fraction of his men would survive. A charge was inevitable; the bravery ingrained in the Rohirrim made them fearless against any foe.

"Théoden! Lead the cavalry to retreat; I will deal with these giant elephants."

Ino's booming voice echoed across the battlefield as he charged again towards the Witch-king of Angmar.

"Rohirrim, fall back!" Théoden decisively ordered a retreat.

At the same time, Fide appeared on the battlefield, carrying a vintage suitcase.

As the suitcase hit the ground, its latch sprang open.

One, two, three... hundreds of giant spiders emerged once more in Middle-earth.

Standing over four meters tall, bearing long spears, these figures might intimidate humans, but they were dwarfed by the hundred-meter Mumakil.

However, these spiders showed no fear, deftly charging towards the Mumakil.

In the sky, Fide glanced dismissively at the spears. The familiar scent explained why he had been crying uncontrollably recently.

Similarly, Ino, upon seeing the giant spiders, no longer focused on the ground battle.

When he modified these spiders, it was specifically to counter the Mumakil and also to ensure he wouldn't be tied down.

The orcs were not the real threat; the true casualties among the Rohirrim came from the Haradrim and their Mumakil.

Their elevated archery, the tusks armed with blades, and their massive legs crushed many cavalrymen with each step.

Against such overwhelming odds, only an equally overwhelming solution would work.

The giant spiders and Fide's tears.

Born of despair, the Phoenix's tears were a lethal poison. Even when diluted, they were potent enough to fell these giants.

...

The Pelennor Fields.

The giant spiders agilely charged towards the Mumakil.

Their defenses, enhanced by magical creatures, made them impervious to the Haradrim's arrows.

Although some of the spiders were trampled or impaled by the tusks, most of them reached the Mumakil's legs.

Their sharp, poisoned spears easily pierced the Mumakil's skin.

"Boom~"

A colossal creature fell, shaking the ground and raising clouds of dust.

With the first Mumakil down, the others followed like dominoes, one after another.

The Mumakil, which had only managed to trample many orcs, quickly fell on the Pelennor Fields.

At the same time, pirate ships sailed down the Anduin, marking the end of the ground battle.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, leading the Dúnedain and a thousand elite soldiers from Gondor's southern fiefs, appeared.

Behind them, the spectral army of the Dead followed.

The ghostly green figures flooded the battlefield like a tidal wave.

...

In the sky.

Fide suddenly appeared beside the Witch-king of Angmar.

Despite his small, two-foot frame, he flapped his wings furiously, pecking at the Witch-king, trying to create an opening.

While the Witch-king remained unaffected, his mount, the Fellbeast, began to thrash wildly, seemingly encountering its natural enemy.

With the Witch-king off balance, his fate was sealed.

The Elven-forged weapon pierced the undead flesh.

Glamdring not only shattered the Witch-king's malevolent will but also severed the unseen tendons binding his enchanted existence.