Ohtacárë i nwalmë úquétima: The March from the North

[Snaga]

In the Far North a great force was mustered, and was ready to march.

It came in three great hosts: a force of dwarves from the citadels of the North-East was eastern-most. 34,000 of them there were, marching tireless, clad in the finest mail, bearing axes and swords, and great round shields. And they were crafty engineers too, cunning in siege-craft and the like. On the western side came an army of orcs, 20,000 all told. Many rode on wolves, in light chain mail with scimitars, and small bows with poison darts. Others of a larger stronger kind wore heavy armour, and carried great bows and shields, and swords of cold steel, and in their midst strode huge olog-hai. And set between came a host of Easterlings. In front rode horse-men 12,000 strong, swift and fast, wearing stout armour with bows, and swords. Behind came 17,000 stout men, clad in mail, bearded and fierce with great axes. All were schooled in the military code of Mornclaur: loyal, cunning and mighty in arms.

From the Ice Bay for 50 miles ran a Great Wall: 50 miles to the feet of the Hills of Angmar. Word had come too of traps laid in the Misty Mountains. But this was of little account, as the armies passed over the Hills of Angmar, far to the west of the last of the Misty Mountains, and descended into Angmar. They came in the dark of the long nights of the north, for the winter months had not yet passed.

Dark creatures circled in the air seeing everything before them, going even as far south as Forogond, Fornost and Antothore to bring news, and wolf-riders scouted the ground.

The orcs went south-westward, while the host of men came south towards the northern most hill of the North Downs. Behind them came half of the dwarven forces who turned eastwards.

And they sent messengers to the castle of Lorien, saying: The forces of the East are come. Here is the last chance for ye, and all those who follow ye. For many an age thou were loyal unto the darkness. Then in folly, thou placed thyself at the service of the Emperor of Arnor. Even now he retreats to the innermost reaches of his kingdom caring naught for ye or your fate. Thus choose again: return to the darkness, and march with us, or the darkness will overtake ye!

[Azog]

And out of the mass, a small band was led by Azog the great orc. They rode on the Wargs of the Mornclaur Federation, and were skilled in the art of battle. They weilded great swords and great spears and were clad in great mail. They rode with fury as did their Wargs. They had archers, whose arrows burned with fire as they sunk deep into the hearts of their enemies. Their accuracy was exact, and their bows of strong wood. They had daggers, and were trained to fight with the sword as well as the bow. They also rode the Wargs and were skilled in melee combat, with bow or knife. Finally, there was Azog, their leader. His sword glimmered in a twisted evil as he rode. Many of his enemies had been overcome by fear of him and fled, only to be trampled by the Wargs under Azog's command. This small century rode on the front line of the orcs and were dedicated servants of the Mornclaur Federation.

[Ciryaher]

The order was give for the city of Forogond to evacuate, and the citizens fled south to the walls of Annuminas.

The now-burgeoning army or Arnor was split into two distinct groups. One--a force of 40,000-- was positioned along the Baranduin east of Evendim to guard Annuminas. The other--a force of equal size--occupied the hills of Fornost Erain and guarded that large city.

[Ciryaher]

The Emperor of Arnor grinned slightly. Hidden was much of his satisfaction with the enemy's delayed invasion, and he had had more than enough time to turn his borders into an iron curtain of defense.

The three largest, northernmost cities of Annuminas, Fornost Erain, and Antothore were now bastions of defense, and a leaguer of troops was scattered in Rhudaur to espy any advance through that area.

The obelisks had been no great loss, although Ciryaher regretted the time they'd taken to be hand-crafted by local artisans. No great loss, though. He had been reactivating a group that had been recently disbanded, and was preparing to put them to use once more.

[Snaga]

No word came from the castle of Angmar, and time passed, tedious waiting in the cold of the north.

The dwarves in the hills about the fortress set great siege engines in readiness, in crafty locations high overlooking the castle, and before the gates.

Then Borin, Lord Engineer of the Iron Hills, craftiest of all the dwarves of the northwest of Mornclaur took counsel. For word came to him the a new force was come unto Angmar. A muster of orcs from Ostmor, Gundabad and Mount Gram was come. Rashdug of Gundabad lead them from their mountain fortresses. These were guarded still by the troll guards, and a small force of orcs in each, but such a mustering of the northern orcs was recalled in tales of the battle of Erebor, that followed the death of Smaug. Here they he had 16,000 at his command, and they came ready for a great siege.

And Rashdug came to Borin and said: 'You dwarves and folk of Mornclaur are wasting your time 'ere. Get gone to the south, where your real foe lies. We'll deal with the renegade.'

Borin looked at him, impassively. 'We dwarves can master this citadel. Our siege-craft will reduce it rubble! And we have our Orders!'

'This is a Dark Legion dispute, and we are a Dark Legion force. The renegade of Angmar will be crushed by the Dark Legion.' replied Rashdug. 'He only has this land 'cos it was given to him by Lord Cygnus, the greatest of the Necromancers, 'afore he took off to Rhun. Whether I do it by fire or starvation, or I blow down 'is gates and slaughter every last one of 'em... what is it to you?'

At that moment an aide came and spoke urgently to Borin, whispering in the secret tongue of the dwarves. 'It seems you are right, orc!' rumbled Borin. 'I have new instructions from Lord Gonnilclaur.'

And he saluted in the fashion of the Mornclaur Federation army, and went to order his troops for marching. As he did so, with a clamouring yell, the orcs took up the trebuchet and catapults of the dwarves, and began to hurl an unending barrage of burning missiles high over the walls and into the castle....

To the south, two great encampments were begun by the advance guard of the approaching armies: one on the northern most hill of the Hills of Evendim, and one on the northern-most hill of the North Downs.

And another thing befell: a band of 100 orcs fell upon the deserted town of Forogond. Any foods they found they took away, but set fires amongst the buildings that rose high in skies, and were seen far away.

[Ciryaher]

Celegram, Captain of the 3rd Infantry of Arthedain, peered over a rock and beheld the camp upon the northenmost rise of the North Downs. He looked over the rolling conglomeration of tents and nodded, then ducked back down and stole back over the ridge.

"Lieutenant, prepare our men. We will teach the scum to seek shelter upon the Downs!" he said spiritedly. The others nodded and grinned, then moved out to call up their men. A good five thousand men crept back over the ridge, clothed in grey raiment to match that of the stones. Like stones come to life, they rose to their feet and raised their steel bows--indeed those of the same rediscovered art of Numenore. Nocking long arrows, they waited.

Then, an eagle high above cried out, and the men bent their bows. Many deep, low horns shouted out a terrible note, and the air was filled with a sharp droning sound as the bowstrings were released and arrows tore through the sky. A storm of barbed and poisoned arrows rained down on the camp, piercing and impaling. A second line of archers stood behind the first, who knelt, and fired another volley as holes opened in their ranks. A rush of four thousands swept out, wielding torches and bottles of oil. "Forogond!" they shouted, and hurled the torches and lit firebombs into the tents and pavilions with their swords and axes drawn.

[Snaga]

'Ahhhhh!' the Easterling proctors sibilant whisper savoured the smell of battle and war. 'Those ten centuries fight well! I sacrifice them, without remorse, bait for my trap! But e'en as small pieces cast aside, they die with great reluctance!'

'Aye!' said the scout, a long-sighted man. 'I saw upon the crest of the hill, the Arnor's accurssed bowmen fire uphill at our advance guard. Strong are their bows, but the slope was against them somewhat, though our defence was not ready. Yet though the first arrows found many marks, their drill was beyond compare and they made their shield wall strong. The next wave was less damaging. Arnor has not yet made the summit, and they become easy prey of those left when they try to hurl their fiery devices.'

'So it is, as I have forseen. I have long seen in my mind all you see with thine eyes. For were ye back upon your steed, master scout, you would see that now two companies for light cavalry charging around the flanks of the hill. And more infantry climb the hill.'

And so it was, that the bowmen of Arnor found, as they knelt to fire at the foes above them, that the pincer sprang shut. From about the cover of the slope of the hill came, from east and west, two groups each a thousand strong that broke upon their flanks, hewing and slaying. And from atop the hill, the next company took position, and they sent kindled arrows down, as they fired from behind the shield wall. And the Arnorian men were easy prey: swords and axes in one hand and flaming brandings in t'other they were shieldless as they laboured up the slope. And soon the very grass was aflame, as kindled firebombs ignited halfway up the slope in the reek of the fallen.

'But tell me, Lord Proctor!' the scout said, as he prepared to go. 'What is that plume of smoke I see rising thither?' He pointed westward.

'Ahhhh!' the proctor breathed. 'You percieve the wrack of Forogond. It is but a small ecstacy, in the beauty of war!'

'Nay, lord. I speak of the second burning, beyond yonder hills. Perchance your eyes do not see it...'

The proctor licked his lips slowly, his eyes half-closed with pleasure. 'Soooo....... an orc band has set Helkamardi ablaze. A kindness to the cold Lossoth-hai! I had word that a band of five hundred raiders were to be sent hence. Swift are the legs of the wargs, when the riders have the scent of death in their nostrils.' He paused, and breathed in slowly. 'Ahhhhh! Yes.... a sweet aroma it is!'

[Lorien]

Lorien paced impatiently within the walls of his council room and threw things about in a furious rage. He screamed himself hoarse and destroyed the entire dressings of the room. When his trusted second-in-command finally broke down the locked doors of the room his eyes met a strange sight as he beheld Lorien sitting in a circle of roaring fire, evidently his lord had seen it fit to burn all the tapestries and curtains in the room and place himself in it. Spying Morgwathion through the flames, Lorien said, "Scared? I am I think, this decision is harder than I thought. Who would have believed that the Lord of the Necromancers, nay, the ex-leader of the Necromancers would have trouble in choosing an alliance between the Dark and the Light? But come, you must know, you've always known, which side do I choose my faithful?" Looking at Morgwathion's face, Lorien laughed and said, "You hesitate too! That is good, I am not alone then."
Giving a few hasty orders Lorien rode under the shadow of the night with only 20 men accompanying him. Often narrowly avoiding companies of orcs they made their way towards the southern borders of Angmar.

[Arathin]

Arathin impatiantly paced about her newly gotten home. Mithlond's militia had all finished their training and were looking for battle, as was Arathin. Suddenly, two of her special Dunedain warriors brought a man into her chambers. He had burns and slashs all over his body, and was on the verge of death. "M'lady Arathin," the man's every breath rang in her ears as if it were his last. "The city of Helkamardi has been destoried utterly. Orcs, 500 hundred, on Wargs, taken by surpris-----" With that the brave man died. "We found him two miles from our borders, m'lady. He was brought to you immediately as he refused medical attention." Arathin closed the man's eyes and called to her people to prepare for battle. ~This brave man's death will not be in vain, nor will the deaths of all those the accursed Orcs of the East have killed.~

The Mithlondian militia, men and women, set out in many small groups of 250 to a unit. Twenty such units were under Arathin's command. Two of Arathin's special Dunedain commanded each unit. Arathin led her own group of 250 Dunedain, while 210 Dunedain stayed to guard Mithlond's board. These remaining 210 were spread thinly, but effectively in groups of 5 making 42 groups about the border of Mithlond.

Arathin and her twenty attack units rode out to engage the Orcs of the East, but not in battle as the Orcs fought. In such battle Arathin could have no hope of victory. But Arathin had her own ways of doing battle.

After having their fill, for the moment, of death and plunder, the Orcs and Wargs now in Helkamardi were all resting or keeping a sparse lookout, for they expected no trouble. Arathin and her unit of Dunedain hid within the edge of the forest by the once standing, now mere ashes of the city. She separated her party out and soon they had the remains of the city surrounded, though the Orcs didn't know it. 25 groups of 10 surrounded the city and the Orcs and Wargs within, but as the Orcs had burnt the city, they had no defences against Arathin's Dunedain. Suddenly, her group attacked a small group of sleeping Orcs, killing all of them. Arathin sent up a call like the scream of an eagle, and all of her groups attacked. Each one moving in as silent as moonlight, killing all they could find, and slipping away with the dark as if each had their own magic ring. Soon all the Orcs were skittering this way and that as sudden Dunedain warriors would spring up, as if out of the ground and kill them.

At dawn, Arathin and her people left the remains of the city. A few of her other units had joined them in the night against the Orcs and Wargs. In the end, five units marched back to Mithlonds main borders, their weapons covered in the dark blood of Eastern Orc and Warg.

[Ciryaher]

The Emperor rapped lightly upon a heavy oak door. War was but a threat at the time, and Angmar had not yet been besieged, and the city was dark, though not blacked out entirely.

The door was to that of the home of Goldram, one of the ten or so dwarves residing within Annuminas, who also happened to be a cunning weaponsmith.

The door was opened slowly, and a stocky, red-bearded dwarf stepped out rubbing his eyes wearily. "Look, mate, it's bloody past midnight," he said in a grumpy fashion, then looked closer at his guest, "Penn! I didn't know it was you, sir! Do come in, friend, and have a mug of this fine ale I bought. Then you may tell me what it is you'd like."

Bowing deeply before the dwarf, Ciryaher entered quietly as his somewhat bewildered host fetched two mugs of ale and sat down after serving one. "Well, now, Mr. Penngristion," he began after a long sip, "What can I do for you?"

"Goldram, I need you to make a weapon," the Emperor said after a similar drink, "It must be the strongest, keenest, and most magnificent axe to ever be wielded by a human. I know you make axes for the people here, but I want one made with your secret dwarven arts."

The dwarf made a doubtful face and leaned back a bit. "You ask much, Lord. What will I receive for such a task?"

"Name it, and it shall be yours," Ciryaher replied earnestly.

Goldram immediately knew what he wanted. "Five hundred lauren and...I want to be with your personal company. With the big darkie and the red-bearded man."

"You wish to be in my personal escort? Very well. Your price and request shall both be granted. When will the axe be ready?"

"Within two weeks, Penngristion, I will give you an axe that will cleave helm, shield, plate, and blade! Do not fear!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And so the next day, the dwarf began selecting metals. He chose a beautiful blue metal that could deal terrible blows and would not shatter under force, though it had low tensile strength and would snap if subjected to a lateral blow. To counter this, he created a special core of copper with silver veins, and then beat the blue metal onto it. He locked this blade into place within a strong handle of a steel handle with a trace of mithril mixed into it.

Then, using the hidden magic of the Children of Aulë, he enchanted the axe, so that nothing save the Flames of Anar could destroy it. On it were tooled runes of nobility, vengeance, and purity. No evil could mar or withstand its blow when wielded by a pure heart.

And so, as the castle of Carn Dum was being sacked, and the archers of Fornost released a storm of arrows upon the camp of Mornclaur, Goldram Onyxhelm the weaponsmith presented his creation to the Emperor. He was clad in a hauberk of his own making, and wielded a similarly styled axe (though the blade was gold-tinted rather than blue) as he knelt before Lord Penngristion and presented the axe to him.

Ciryaher bid Goldram rise, and saluted him. "This axe I shall name," he swung the axe about and saw the blue flame as light caught the metal, "Bregoldramb Naurlhûn...the violent blow of blue flame!"

The dwarf grinned slightly, "It has my name in it, so you know it will be mighty!" He laughed, and so did all present...it was a light moment in heavy times.

[Dengen-Goroth]

There was amide the rear gaurd of the Mornclaur Assault marshalled a pillaging force of slight number. Foward they went till they were able to reach the Emyn Uial, for the might of Arnor was spred and certain areas were left wih minimal defenses. At dusk they quickly entered that land, cloaked by a fell parallel to the cloaks of Lorein.

[Ciryaher]

Two runners came to the camp of the 1st Army of Arnor and reported to their commander, who in turn reported to Ervurkea. Grinning, he dispatched the 8th and 11th infantries (about 6,000 troops combined) and sent them to form a screen of archers and blitz infantry in all the passes and strategic points in the hills. There was no way that the intruders could pass through their unblinking eyes.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Nawael glanced over an outcropping of rock towards where his companion had indicated. There, quite a distance away, lay yet another Arnorian gaurd. He slide back dowanward and crept northward till he reached the entrance to a cave. It was well hidden by greenery. Within it ran far, and solemnly the two proceded through winding natirual corridors. At last they reached a light, a sentry stood at watch.
"Greetings General!" They procedded. The incline grew steeper and the walls above vaulted ever higher. The flicker of the flames soon was incappable of illuminating the ceiling. Naweal paused and ran a hand through his black hair. Voices echoed dimmly. The two continued, at a rapid pace. Soon, upon rounding some corners and passing through a very narrow hall they reached another open chamber, with a pool of water in the center. About the walls there were placed torches and foods and supplies littered the floor. Matts were rolled to conserve space. Yet upon them sat great men from the east and south, men in service of the Dark Lord. All wore raiment of battle, scabbard at their sides. One man with a great red beard stood and saluted.
"General, we feared you were lost."
"Nay men, I fare well. However our course of option is limited. They have succeded in blockading the exits, we are neath their girdle."
"Can it be so General."
"Indeed it may and is. However we have discussed this option prior to setting forth. All here knew of the potential for utter failure within our excursion, and now it is no longer hypothetical."
"As is our course of action of course."
"Yes indeed that is, but now as it is to be tested let us hope it does not fail."
The General strode towards his matt and quickly unrolled it. He procedded to sit upon it and grasped a goblet, which he then filled with wine.
"Not quite Dorwinion, but as near to as we will get here."
"And this pool is as near to the Sea of Rhun. I have spent many a month within those mclear azure waters. To be there now, bathing neath the eastern sun."
Another man grunted in disbelief.
"What greater endevour is there within the confines of our world then war. Where is your mind."
The conversation continued as such, however the man who had accompanied the General had not awaited further instructions, he quickly left after entering. It was deep within the nigh when a small pass gaurded as were all others, was assaulted with a great volley of flaming arrows.

[Arathin]

The Archers of the Dark Lord got no response. Suddenly, the night's gloom about them began to move and shift. A flash of light, as if a ghostly sword unseen, struck down the captain of the archers. As if on signal, hundreds of thousands on ghosts appeared to the men of the Dark Lord. These ghosts struck down a man and then vanished into the night, until all of them were dead, with the exception of one. Stained with his fellow's blood and dazed by his terror, he had fallen to the ground. In his hazed confusion, he ran and ran to the first place he could think of that would be safe. The cave in which the Dark Lord and his men were in. Arathin and her "ghosts" followed. Now easily finding the cave enterence as the man dashed into it, she called to one of her eagle pets, and reported the placement of the cave to the Arnorian captain by eagle letter post. Squatting down to wait with her men, she set archers to kill any that came from the cave.

Deep within the cave the survivor fleed. Upon reaching the main area. He demained to see the Dark Lord. Permission was granted and he told his tale of blood, flame, death, and ghosts. Doubt neared the Dark Lord's heart.

[Ciryaher]

Thelion heard a cry above him and held out his arm. With a flutter of wings, a noble eagle perched upon his arm. He took the note out of the creature's beak and quickly read it. He grinned to his lieutenants, "Ahh, so they have found the Felyamande? We shall show them the meaning of its name!"

The force stole through the night, and Thelion raised his hand in greeting to Arathin. He wordlessly gestured to the mouth of the cave, dim, though showing light from fires within. She nodded, and the Arnorians scattered, going to their positions.

The commander returned with the severed head of one of the Mornclaurians and forced a white stone into its gaping mouth. He flung it into the cave and then whistled.

Men crept down into the backmost bowels of the cave through secret passages and espied the enemies. Stones were lifted in the roof of the main chamber, and flaming vials of oil were thrown down into and behind the clustered Mornclaurians. There was a storm of arrows from the back of the cave, and they had no choice but to stay and die or try to flee out the mouth of the cave.

They ran out in a frenzied attack and hewed down at least six of the Arnorian sentries, but the Mithlondian and Arnorian archers shot them down so that not one of the enemy survived.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Dawn, the early rays of light flickered about the great banners of Mornclaur, of the Dark Lord. The Proctor reclined in a great seat which had been acquired from the sack of Fornost.
"They came unto our force with fell apparitions, and hewed all. I was at that moment about with a scout group, venturing back northward to find a suitable means of retreat if need be."
"General, your account is credible, though your actions less then. Behold, we have hewed many an archer and swordsman of the infidels, and a loss of eighty men, though troubling, is not to great a defeat nor does it hinder our effort. It has been thus ordained that upon the coming of Warmaster Aei, who is near, we are to have the following positions."
The proctor indicated several lines on a map near to the two.
"What we have gained from your excursion, however, is information to which no sum can be placed. Their fear rises with fell ardor, and permeates from their citadels. Let us first engage in an entertaining enterprise." A fell grin came upon the Proctor.

As dusk had long descended, and now it was near the first hour of the new day there came unto the Arnorian Encampment perplexing sounds, and then the great gallop of numerous steeds. The Sentries glanced to and fro, and quickly drew their blades or fit arrow to bow. And yet from the northwestern passage there was a great onslaught of cavalry, and they drove into the camp and hewed the sentries. Arrows glanced off of their armor. The Arnorians, however, were not taken fully at unawares. Quickly those who had slept awakened and formed a defensive ring, and great spears were thrust forward to prevent an effective cavalry charge. The Mornclaur cavalry continued to move beyond the ring, for as told arrows did little harm. Some did strike steed and thus dismount rider, but few hampered man. A rider drew forth a horn and thus struck a great note to which came a response, though some thought but an echo. From the north there came flowing forth warg divisions and then infantry columns. Arrows flew from the Mornclaur lines against the ring, yet few were hampered as well. However it was then that the Cavalry seemed to retreat, turned and began to gallop as quickly as possible towards the ring. Just prior to the spears the steeds reared in unison and the riders hurled at the Arnorians the severed heads of those who had fallen in the assault upon their positions. And when the heads fell, like a morbid rain, the cavalry hurled yet another wave. An infantry charge was sounded, and a great column charged against the wall of the ring. And when a third volley was hurled there came another note, and the cavalry retreated, and the infantry retreated. Yet the archers remained firing flaming arrows at tents and crude buildings meant to store munitions.. However the Arnorians did hew many, and it seemed as though the assault was greater folly for they had lost numbers due to their sleep but very few fell from the ring. And yet they then glanced upon the faces of their comrades, many with whom they had spoken days prior and had formed friendships. And they did bemoan the fate of those gallant souls. And a wrathful fire grew ever greater in their hearts. Yet it was at a certain moment, when there came over those hills the cry of a bat, that the heads were rent apart by flame, for by a dark art of the east within their mouths and nostrils were placed explosive elixirs which were held in glass such that the shrill cry broke the flasks. And incredibly great were the explosions for the size of the that which created them. Many fell to their knees in horror, for they were singed or burning, and felled by the face of their friends. Some ran about as flames and heat consumed them. And then there came a third note, for the cavalry had retreated, and then turned and charged towards the camp again. Now though the fires had caused considerable chaos, and many flew about not knowing their destination. And the cavalry simply slew at will, beheading and then hurling those heads at others who cried out in pain and fear, for they knew not if those to would explode. Yet there was marshaled a force of determined and utterly enraged Anorians who made battle unto the cavalry, and hewed steeds, dismounting the riders. Yet they bore their blades unto the Arnorians and such fierce battle was naught seen within those hills prior. However the cavalrymen knew well that they were far outnumbered and that their task was complete, so they did retreat, some steeds bearing two riders. The cavalry returned to the Mornclaur camp at dawn.

[Arathin]

An eagle flew into the tent where the generals argued with a note. It dropped note and waited for a reply to it.

Rangers and our new allies,
Lord Ciryaher has informed me of your approach. I must insist that you come to my city. If you try to attack Mornclaur's forces you will interfere. Please come to my province of Mithlond. You will be welcomed most graciously and will be given many supplies and weapons. Also we might discuss tactics.

The message was sealed with the Lady Arathin's signet as every Ranger that saw it knew it was from her. Also the eagle was the same as the one that had been bringing her messages to the Rangers for the past few days.

[Ciryaher]

Ërvûrkeá ran his hand over his face. "If you would consider my advice," he spoke for the first time, having long stood in the corner of the generals' pavillion, "I would tell you to heed the insistance of Governor Arathin. Mithlond is in need of...guerilla forces. Archers, and small, lightning-fast attack groups would be able to wreak havoc upon the enemy's raiding parties in that heavily wooded province. If we return south, to Fornost Erain, we can take the High Road to Annûminás, and there we may take the South Pass through the Emyn Uiál, and come into Mithlond in less than 3 days. There, we may replenish our supplies and be always near the North Watch of Arnor, and be able to aid them."

He crossed his arms and continued running his hand over his goatee while he awaited the others.

[Mablung]

'I respectfully agree with this. We are fine warriors all but more than outnumbered in a head on fight. There is no way we could attack the bulk of the Mornclaur by ourselves, and if we stay here so near to them we risk being wiped out.' Lolik watched the other's faces to see what they were deciding to do.

[Anamatar IV]

"Heren Istarion will aid Mithlond and we hope Mithlond will aid us," Ingolemo said. "The banners of the Alliance will fly high in the air and we will come to Mithlond."

"Were it not for the havens I would come less grudgingly," Nenya spoke. "But I will harden my will and come to Mithlond."

[Ciryaher]

"Ye need not worry of seeing the Havens," said Ërvûrkeá, "Where Governor Arathin defends her land the Blue Mountains bar the sea, and the Hills of Twilight are nigh. Nay, ye needn't fear the calling of the sea. Look here at this map (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/attachment.php?s=&postid=137299)."

He spread the parchment out on a table and pointed just to the west of the Emyn Uial. "That is where we should head first."

[Ecthelion]

Nain nodded as he scanned the map. He looked up to Ërvûrkeá and said "The Rangers will also go to Mithlond. Will you come with us? If not a guide would be helpful just in case." While waiting for an answer from Ërvûrkeá he stroked his black horse and spoke to the army of where they would be going shortly.

[Arathin]

Arathin's eagle nipped Ërvûrkeá's wrist. It was getting impatient to bring a message back to its master. The look it gave Ërvûrkeá was enough to say that Arathin's palace was a long ways deep within Mithlond and they would have a long trip. They must leave soon if they would go to help.

[Ciryaher]

The tall northman whispered something to the eagle and then pointed back to the west. As the eagle departed, he turned to the others. "Yes, I will be staying with you perhaps for the remainder of the war...or until my Lord bids me return or go whither he commands. We will pause for a rest on that place I have shown you, but we must ride hard there, rest, and then continue on until the Governor contacts us again."

[Ecthelion]

2 Hours earlier:
A mighty horn blew and the flags of The Rangers and Heren Istarion marched toward the Arnorian camp. In front of the 1000 or so army was The Generals of the two mighty groups. Awaiting them was Ërvûrkeá. Nain and the others got off their horses and said their hellos when an eagle flew in from the sky....
_______________________________________
Present Time:
Nain nodded at Ërvûrkeá's words and he blew his mighty horn. With Ërvûrkeá leading them the army of The Alliance of Sudden Wrath marched on to reach Mithlond as soon as possible.

[Arathin]

Arathin sat in her private chambers gazing out the window at her land. She knew where the Alliance would be resting thanks to her friend Ërvûrkeá's message through her eagle which sat on her shoulder. The only light in that tower of her palace was the one in her room. The people were by now accustom to their lady's light being on late into the night, her mysterious comings and goings, and her eagles which at times seemed to fill the sky. As Arathin gazed out the window another eagle came in and dropped a letter in her lap. A letter long awaited by the lady of Mithlond. She took it and retired to bed.

[Ecthelion]

The great company finally made it to Mithlond. The group halted at the gates as a man at the top yelled down "Who goes there?" Nain answered "I am Nain Ironfoot, friend of Arathin, General of The Rangers Army. Along with me is Ingolemo, leader of Heren Istarion and Ërvûrkeá one of Lord Ciryahers greatest Generals. Lady Arathin has been expecting us for long. Tell her of our coming and let us in." The man answered "We cannot let you enter yet. I shall first send a messenger to inform the lady." Nain nodded and an eagle flew to Arathin informing her of the arrival of her friends. Nain and the company waited impatiently for the returning eagle.

[Arathin]

An Eagle flew through Arathin's window, she had already started toward her province gates in expectance of her friends and allies. She was staying now in a cabin near the gates. Upon recieving the eagle, she immediately thanked the cabin owner and mounted her stallion, Gildar. She headed straight toward the gate with the eagle over head. Upon reaching the gates, she ordered them to be openned. "But My Lady," called down the guard. "We don't know anything about these people... If they are lying." But her eagle had seen them and spotted Nain. "It is them! Now open this gate!" She yelled. The guard did so reluctantly and Arathin welcomed her friends, hurriedly, into Mithlond. Once all were inside and the gates were once again shut, Arathin turned to Nain, Ingolemo, and Ërvûrkeá. "We must talk of stratagies soon. These new renforcments to my numbers are greatly welcomed as mine are by themselves not overly large. I ordered the set up of a village of tents about three miles from here. If you will all follow me, these people can be refreshed and rest. Also we can talk in the main tent I have had set up." Arathin, who hadn't even dismounted, turned Gildar and led them to a huge flat land covered with tents and the thick smell of fire, steel, leather, horse, and cooking food.

[Ecthelion]

The large company was quite happy at the smell of food and to see tents already made for them. Nain stayed with Ingolemo, Ërvûrkeá and Arathin. Arathin lead them to her cabin and they sat. Arathin offered some drinks and Nain asked for some simple tea as did the others. When the drinks were passed around Nain spoke," By how the Mornclaur armies fight best I believe we should try at all costs to stay away from all out hand-hand combat. I beileve we should spilt our armies into many groups of men and stick to using camoflauge and quick attacks. Your thoughts?" Before anyone answered Nain got an odd feeling. The dwarf asked in a weird voice,"Arathin may I borrow an eagle, I must inform a friend." She nodded catiously and whistled. An eagle flew in. Nain jotted something down and the eagle flew off.

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo took no drink. He stood slowly.

"I believe others of Heren Istarion should be present," he said. "A council they form and grand counsel they give." Ingolemo stepped out of the tent and turned towards Heren Istarion's. But the council was already coming towards him.

[HLGStrider]

Elgee cautiously knocked upon the cabin door. Recognized by her comrades, she was allowed in.
She took her place and a drink and waited for the rest of the council to arrive.

[Arathin]

Arathin sat back watching Nain after he sent out her eagle. She waited for the council to enter, hoping it wouldn't be large as only ten people could fit in the small cabin. "How many people are in the councils together?" she asked thinking of moving to the larger meeting tent.

[HLGStrider]

"I wouldn't expect more than five Rangers but the Heren Isitari are a little more expanisive," Elgee commented. She glanced around the cabin. "We might be all right."

[Ecthelion]

Everyone files in with some left standing up, but all is well. Nain repeats his earlier said plan about the quick and small camoflauge attacks and waits for the thoughts of the others councling with him. Nain sips his tea some more as he thinks silently in his mind.

[EverEve]

"Mi Lady, Nain is right. We have to move fast, secretly, and hit Mornclaur where it will hurt them the most," said Eve, moving out of the corner, where she had been at first. "We aren't the largest group Arnor has against the enemy, but we are fastest and stealthiest. We must use our skills as Rangers, and cripple these Dark scum."

[Ecthelion]

Nain turned to Arathin and asked "Lady Arathin, we must act quickly. Mornclaur could attack any moment. We are well guarded, but we must keep Mornclaur on the defensive. Shall I start ordering my men into groups for attacks now mi lady?"

[Anamatar IV]

"Let us not be hasty!" Alkorr spoke for the first time as he entered the tent.

"Yes, let us rest and replenish. There is yet time to sharpen our swords," Ingolemo said.

[Ecthelion]

Back in Mithlond Nain answered "You stand correct Ingolemo. We shall replenish and rest, but still I believe we should start orginizing our armies into many groups, each group about 20 men approximately," Nain turned to Arathin and spoke "Arathin, I thank you for the welcoming and I hope to see you in the morn." With that Nain exited. A step out of the door and the eagle he had borrowed flew back to him and cawed. He took the parchment it held and the eagle flew off. Nain shoved the paper quickly in his pocket and walked to The Aliance of Sudden Wrath's army camp. He began grouping them into groups of thirties and had them stick together, soon Nain had 36 groups of 30 warriors prepared to attack Mornclaur, the other 220 were to stay behind(200 dwarves and 20 melee fighting men). Nain finally sat down on a log and began reading his letter. He soon shoved it away in his pocket and went to get some food.

[Arathin]

Arathin senced something coming on her borders and went outside. She called to an eagle and whispered something to it. Then, as it flew away, she reentered the cabin. "I already have been attacking Mornclaur with guarilla tactics. We all knew from the start that was the only way to battle Mornclaur. As for Mornclaur trying to attack this province... It would be like when Saruman tried to attack Helm's Deep. My brother told me about that battle, though not for many years afterward. The province is too big to seige, too easily guarded, and we have too many guarded places to retreat to. Not to mention that we have already moved all our crops to such safe places."

[Nenya Evenstar]

Footsteps were heard outside of the meeting tent in which the leaders of battle were debating. The door parted, and Nenya emerged from outside, her breath visible in whisps of air.

"Ingolemo," Nenya said quietly. Ingolemo jumped, for it had been only a few minutes ago that Nenya had been at his side. Now here she was emerging from outside. "May I have a word with you?" the elf continued, oblivious of the bewildered look on her leader's face.

"Yes, if you must," Ingolemo said standing from his seat and making his way over to Nenya. "What is it?"

Following Nenya out the door, Ingolemo listened as she began, "My Lord, I have been requested by Elbereth Queen of Gondor to take her place while she is unnavailable. I feel that it is my duty, therefore, to no longer remain here but to make my way to Gondor as quickly as possible. I understand that things are not going so well in that section of the world, and they need leadership. Will you grant me leave to go to Gondor in this time of need?" A sense of urgency was laid upon Ingolemo's heart.

[Anamatar IV]

"I grant you leave. Take a swift steed, it is many days to Gondor." Ingolemo spoke these words quickly. "Go now! Do not tarry, you have not had time to unpack anything. Mount your horse and ride." Ingolemo watched as Nenya ran to where she had left her horse. He turned and entered the tent.

"Urgent events take place and one of the members of the council will not be here," he said to the people in the tent.

[Nenya Evenstar]

"My Lord?" A voice broke through Ingolemo's thoughts once more. Turning around, he saw a young man who was obviously trying hard to please his superior.

"Yes?" queried the leader of the Heren Istarion.

"I have a message for you from the Lady Nenya, my Lord," the man continued awkwardly, clamping his teeth shut.

Ingolemo stopped walking in the middle of the dirt path he was in and gave the man his attention. "What is it?" The young man handed him a paper sealed with a white swan and the golden star of Heren Istarion. Oh, so good! Nenya hadn't sent a message with this man! Probably a good think considering his lack of confidence. "Thank-you, my good man," was all that Ingolemo said aloud. The man bowed, a silly smile playing across his face as Ingolemo left him and walked down the path once more.

Inside his tent, Ingolemo broke the two seals and took out a thin sheet of paper engraved with golden leaves. It read:

My Lord Ingolemo:

It has come to my ears that there have been given counsels to counter the Mornclaur Federation in Arnor by means of guerilla warfare and small groups. Contrary to this opinion, I would counsel you to by all means ingore such a strategy. This is what we are expected to do, and this is exactly what the Mornclaur is prepared to counter. We cannot resort to simple tactics, but must engage the Mornclaur in open battle and open war. Our only hope is to face them head on with our armies. I am not saying that we should completely ignore the smaller guerilla tactics, but that we must engage in a bigger scale war. The Mornclaur Federation is far too well trained and will easily resist all attempts at a small-scale war. We must try bigger. We must meet them head on with a great strength. The greater part of Gondor has fallen because they failed to use big-scale tactics. We must turn from the pursued to the pursuer! We cannot rely on hiding or we will be crushed. We must come out into the open. I would counsel you to make contact with the Emperor in all your efforts here. Please pass this message on to the Lady Arathin and the Lord Nain.

Yours faithfully,
Nenya

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo sighed and walked back out from the tent. An old man is not for walking to and fro. He came across a soldier clad in the likeness of the Rangers.

"Tell me, where is Lord Nain of the Rangers? And the Lady of Mithlond, Arathin?" Ingolemo asked. The soldier gestured with his arm. "Thank you," Ingolemo said as he walked in the direction the soldier had pointed in. Soon he reached them.

"Do not start ordering groups yet, for I deem there is still council to be held." Ingolemo passed the note to Nain.

[Ecthelion]

Nain nodded, but left his men in groups for he would not like to end up grouping them again. After eating a fair of food a man of Mithlond ran up to him," Lord Ironfoot, a man is here to see you, he says he comes from Gondor and you called him." Nain nodded and beckoned the man to inform Lady Arathin that this was a friend and to let him in. Soon after a tall man of 6 feet 6 inches, with scraggly brown hair about shoulder length cloaked in grey grabbed Nain on the shoulder from behind and yanked so as to scare him. Nain spun around and laughed for he knew the man right away. It was Ecthelion II, man once of Gondor. Nain said his hellos and quickly took Ecthelion to a secluded area and they spoke for a quite long time.

[Arathin]

Arathin glanced about her in suspiction. She didn't like what her eagles were telling her and she certainly didn't like all these strangers in her lands. She took the letter from Nain and read it. Then turned to Ingolemo. "Her advice is good. If it were given to Gondor, Rohan, or Arnor in themselves, but given to me... It is worthless. I know she is trying to help, but we have not a force great enough to go against Mornclaur here. We have not even any Arnorian soldiers. Only my 500 Dunedain whom only do what I command them to do, 5000 Mithlond militia men and women, and then 1000 strong Allance soldiers. That is a total of 6500 men and women, most of them militia. I will not let my people go head to head against Mornclaur. The only way I would let them is if Lord Ciryaher sent Arnorian troops, but they are all needed elsewhere. I have enough men to defend my lands, and that is all I must do. Trying to go head on against Mornclaur's over 20,000 trained troops with 6,500 troops 5,000 of which are not properly trained for open war, is folly. I refuse to risk my people thus. If you wish to send the alliance head on against Mornclaur fine. Do so, but you will not risk any of my 5,500 men over it. We will stick with our small based guerilla attacks unless Lord Ciryaher himself tells me to do otherwise."

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo nodded.

"If no aid comes swiftly I see no reason to place open war in the councils," he said. Turning to Nain he spoke, "Please resume ordering the army. I must seek out the rest of the council, wherever they may be now." With that Ingolemo turned and paced back towards the tents.

[Arathin]

Arathin watched Ingolemo walk back to his tent and Nain order his men into groups. Her heart was heavy from this endless war. She sighed deeply and turned to take council with Ervurkea about the best course of attack. She knew that he would help her in place of her lord in this time of trials. The two stood in the corner of her cabin deep in conversation.

[Ecthelion]

After finishing with his army and talking to Ecthelion Nain searched for Lady Arathin. Soon he found her talking to Ërvûrkeá in a cabin and strode in saying "Pardon me mi lady, but my friend Ecthelion tells me of a victory at Rohan and that Lord Ciryaher is traveling west to Gondor, perhaps he could spare some men from the fight at Gondor or send some after if another victory comes forth, it would take awhile for the men to make it, but we are greatly guarded and can defend ourselves for a long while I think. Just a thought Arathin." Nain waited to see what Arathin had to say about this.

[Arathin]

Arathin glanced over at Nain. "Go and get Ingolemo. I have something to tell you and he. Don't bother with the councils just yet. You may call them after I have told you what I need to tell you two." Nain left and soon reappeared with Ingolemo, as requested the councils had not yet been called. She and Ërvûrkeá were again in discussion when they came back. Arathin nodded and turned to Nain and Ingolemo. "This is why I have called you here. I have decided that it is too dangerous to sit here. It is too near the border for my liking. I am moving almost everyone deeper into Mithlond. I will tell you exactly how many will stay to guard the borders when the councils have been called, but untill then just know this. I am moving us all to the western part of the Dark Forest. There I feel we will be save. If Mornclaur tries to attack us, they will find us harder to defeat then they might think. Go and gather your councils now." Arathin dismissed Nain and Ingolemo to get their council men and went back to her discussion with Ërvûrkeá. She shivered slightly as a very strange feeling passed over her.

[Ecthelion]

Nain nodded and strided out the door with Ingolemo following. They split up and went to find their councils. Nain soon came back with his council of Rangers which included Elgee, EverEve, Ecthelion, and himself. Nain and his council entered the door and waited silently for Heren Istarion to return.

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo did not need to go far, for the Council of Heren Istarion was never far away from their leader.

"Hail, Council. We are needed for counsel once more. Let us go now, the Rangers await us in a nearby cabin," Ingolemo called to the others. As they walked towards the cabin Ingolemo told all that Lady Arathin has said to he and Nain.

Just as the Council of Heren Istarion was about to enter the cabin the ringing of silver trumpets was heard. All eyes gazed to the north. Riding like the wind a legion of horsemen rode. Men of Mithlond rushed to arms but Ingolemo halted them.

"Stop, stop, do not fire shaft!" he called. "Wait for them to draw sword before attacking." As all watched the riders a sudden cry of joy shot out. The banner of Heren Istarion raised high into the sky and the star of gold upon it glinted off the sun. At the head of 200 riders of Heren Istarion, 150 swordsmen and 50 archers, were two Grand Captains, Rasec Elf-human and Dain Ironfoot, Dwarf of the Lonely Mountain.

[Arathin]

Arathin shoved her way out of the cabin to find out what was going on. Upon seeing Heren Istarion's banners, she hesitated. Then sent up an eagle. The eagle circled over the 200 forces three complete times and returned to Arathin's arm. After consulting with the bird a few brief moments, Arathin ordered the gates be openned to allow them entry into Mithlond. She then reentered the cabin and began to study a map of all of Arnor given her by Ërvûrkeá.

Soon the entire alliance council had gathered in the cabin. Arathin looked around, meeting the eyes of each council member before she speaks. "I have examined Mornclaur's troop movements and with Ërvûrkeá's help come up with a plan of troop movement for the best defence we could come up with..."

[Ecthelion]

Arathin finished the council and let everyone go to get their armies ready. Nain exited the cabin and headed to his armies he told one of his men to tell everyone to prepare for battle. Within half an hour the army of The Rangers were all armored and ready. Nain then went to his cabin and waited for the other Rangers to come so he could give a word to them before the battle.

[Anamatar IV]

As the Rangers went to hold council amongst themselves Ingolemo and the other members of Heren Istarion stood infront of the 500 soldiers of Heren Istarion. 150 archers, 200 spear men, and 150 swords men sat, mounted on their restless steeds listening to Ingolemo. Ingolemo gave a lengthy speech of courage and fearlessness. He paused and gazed slowly into the eyes of the warriors. A fire burned in the most steadfast ones yet much fear was in the eyes of others. But they trembled not. This legion of Heren Istarion would not show fear. They would bend a bow and face an army of Mornclaur on their own if need be.

"Do not fear the Corsairs of Umbar, their might is matched by Dunedein of Mithlond, the spears of Heren Istarion, and the might of the Rangers."

When he finished he spoke to two riders in front, both bearing a banner of Heren Istarion.

"Rasec, Dain, lead your soldiers." The two captains spurred their horses and led the galloping horses past the Council of Heren Istarion and soon had joined the other armies of the Alliance.

Ingolemo stood in thought with the others of the council.

[Arathin]

Arathin called upon her guard of her five most trusted Dunedain and told them of her plan for Mithlond's forces. They spread word of it through out her Dunedain, and then returned to her side. She called Ingolemo and Nain to her. "I wish to secure our place of strength before our main forces arrive." The two men nodded in agreement. Arathin placed a hand on each man's shoulder. "My Dunedain and I shall ride ahead of you, to secure our strong hold. Follow when you can. I have sent out the call to arms. All Mithlond's militia are on their way there. Some will be there before me, but most will be there as you are or shortly after. Make haste, I sence an evil rising in my lands, and I will not let it take hold. Not even the smallest toe hold will be surrendere to them." With that she mounted Gildor. "Keep me informed of your movements with the eagles." She tossed both Nain and Ingolemo each a whistle. "These will call one to you when placed to your lips. You have no need of a written message, merely tell the eagle the message as you wish me to have it and I shall get it. Fare well, and may Eru speed."

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo stirred swiftly in his horse. He turned to Nain and Ecthelion.

"I will ride ahead of the rest of the army. I wish to speak to Lady Arathin before the tide turns ill. The others of my council must stay here but I will ride" With that Ingolemo spurred his horse asnd was off.

Dirt kicked up behind his horse and Mithlond flashed by. Startled warriors turned in surprise at this lone rider. Others stared in awe at this elderly man, one who has seen the leaves fall too many times, riding his glissening white horse vigorously.

Ingolemo looked ahead. Far away he saw the shores...and tall black masts.

[Ecthelion]

Nain and Ecthelion nodded as Ingolemo rode of into the distance. Nain stood up on a log and shouted "Now is the time we go to war, get your weapons and sheilds swiftly and we shall head off. I wish you all good luck and may your arrows and swords strike true. Now then, we are off!" With that Nain, Ecthelion, and the other leaders of The Alliance of Sudden Wrath marched to the stronghold with their armies right behind them. Nain couldn't help feeling nervousness in the pit of his stomach.

[Arathin]

Arathin and her Dunedain rode over Mithlond with such swiftness as only the horses of Rohan could beat. As they reached the city, she called to the gate guard. "Your lady has come to you. Open the gates." The gates swung open, and Lady Arathin rode through the city to the captial building followed by her Dunedain. The silence that met them was unmatched in the city's entire history. All knew that war had come to them.
_______________________________________

Lady Arathin stopped in the center of the city. Her Dunedain continued on to the stables and unbridled their horses. The city's inhabitants gathered about their Lady as she called out to them. "Indeed, my people. I know what your silence enbodies. It enbodies the realization that war has come to you, and I'll not lie to you fore it has come..." Low shock waves of astonished murmurs ran through the crowds. "I have come to hold this city and all of Mithlond against the evils of Mornclaur, but to do this I need men. I have sent out the call throughout our lands. The militia are coming. I ask that every man or woman able to hold arms and with the courage enough to try to save their families and homes and lands join the militia. I ask you to fight for Mithlond! I ask you to fight for Arnor! But most importantly, I ask you to fight for your family, for your friends, and for yourselves." A monumentous cheer went up through the peoples, and most every inhabitant of the city went to the Dunedain to be armed. Arathin stood on the outer walls of the city, ill at ease. Ërvûrkeá stood beside her as she spoke with the head of the city's guard, Hamling. Facing the sea, she could see the black ships coming, but while they were truely there or just a vision of their coming, she could not discern.

[Ecthelion]

The Alliance army trudged along at a quick pace and would make it to the city by nightfall at the latest. They soon met up with the Mithlond militia and together they walked to the stronghold to defend themselves from the Corsairs that would soon be assailing them. Nain could only think of bad thoughts in his head and as much as he tried not to he still did. He turned to Ecthelion who walked next to him and said "Ecthelion, if something happens to me in the war I want you to takeover my position as General of The Rangers." Ecthelion replied "Nain do not speak like something will happen to a great dwarf like you." Again Nain spoke "Ecthelion, I am getting old, even if I do live, I still want you to take my position. I shall stay at Weathertop, but only as a friend and only fight if I must." Ecthelion was to in awe to speak, he just nodded.

[Arathin]

Arathin turned her back on the water and looked over the lands of Mithlond. Suddenly her heart rejoiced, and she called to the people. "Open the gates! The Alliance of Sudden Wrath has come to our aid!" The people shouted for joy as the gates openned and row upon row of HI troops, Ranger troops, and their own militia marched into the city to aid them against Mornclaur's fleets.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

"Horses were never my favorite thing to ride, and are known to dislike Dwarves!" complained Dain Ironfoot, rubbing his sore legs. They rode long and hard, not stopping for so much as a water break. Peril and death was soon come to this fair city, and Dain was determined to do all in his power to defend the people of Mithlond.

Dain Ironfoot was a Captain of Heren Istarion, hailing from Erebor, and was no stranger to war. His armor was that of mithril, its individual gleams gleaming in the torch-light, making the Dwarf appear like a star that had fallen upon the earth. His large helm was copper in color, it resembled the face of a terrible Dragon of old, and his bright brown eyes blazed forth like the forges of Aule himself.

"Alright men! Set up your camps and take your rations!" the Dwarf bellowed, and the soldiers of Heren Istarion were glad to obey his command. Ignoring his own command, Dain dismounted his steed, as did the Elf at his side, Rasec. Together, they departed for the city wall, where the Lady Arathin was to be found.

"Hail! Captains of HI! We are to report to Arathin as well, lead the way!" yelled another Dwarf, Nain Ironfoot of the Dunedian. At his side was Ecthelion, a grin was upon his face. The four found their way to the city wall, at the camp of Lady Arathin. Dain was amazed by the woman's sheer beauty, her face was like a perfect gem, clear and unmarred by outside forces.

"Lady, I am Dain Ironfoot, Captain of Heren Istarion. At my side is Captain Rasec, also of HI. I am sure you know the Dunedian, M'Lady," spoke Dain, adding an awkward bow as he was finished. "Our armies are trained and ready to battle the Mornclaur, and my service is yours." The Dwarf then laid his axe in front of him, its smooth surface shone like pale moonlight, yet the clouds had covered the sky.

[Arathin]

Arathin had embraced Nain and Ecthelion when they came upon the city's wall to join her. She laughed aloud at Dain's introduction of himself. He seemed to take offence at this. "No no, my dear dwarf. Pray do not take offence." She laughed, her voice filled the air with the sound of music which seemed to lift the hearts of the men further. "Please I laugh not at you, but it has been many a year indeed since I have been met so graciously. It is indeed a great honor to meet you and your elven companion Rasec." She knelt down to the dwarf's level. "I am sure that you and your men will be a great asset to us against Mornclaur." Then standing again she looked about her, and asked of the four. "Where is Ingolemo? Fore I can see him not amoungst you."

[Anamatar IV]

At that moment a wrinkled hand was placed on Arathin's shoulder. She turned around swiftly and saw Ingolemo standing behind her.

"Milady, I have been in the city for hours if none have noticed me. My horse is in the stable as have I for some time but I come to you now, again, as the front of war arises," Ingolemo spoke softly. At that moment Alkorr, Caneleo, and Valanthe rejoined the others. Alkorr spoke.

"Ingolemo, are last member of the company is rousing the men. He chose not to come with us but to stay with the gathering militia. We muct organize the soldiers swiftly, for the as the tide rises ever closer will the black ships be."

"Indeed, I have seen the tall masts," Ingolemo replied, "and they draw ever closer. We must defend the city as long as possible. I still feel a strand of hope in the winds from the North." Ingolemo's words trailed off. "But I am not a man of war. You all must decide where to place soldiers."

"But none of us are men of war, milord," said Alkorr. "Only one in Heren Istarion is but Súlimë would not join us here."

Ingolemo replied: "Then we will seek Sulime and ask for is counsel."

[Ecthelion]

After metteing with Arathin Nain asked her "Arathin shall I begin positioning my men into their places?" She replied soon after,"Yes that would be good, for the black ships get closer and closer every minute." Nain nodded and with Ecthelion headed off to their army.

Nain and Ecthelion got a map of the stronghold from Arathin and studied it looking for the best way for them to position themselves and their army.

[Arathin]

After Nain walked off to place his men, Arathin turned to Ingolemo. "You may yet be of use even without the war tactics in your minds." Arathin placed her arm around Ingolemo. "We will need wise words to lift the hearts of the men and women fighting ere long I fear. I am good with words and they all love me as a leader, though I have not led them long..." A distant look came to Arathin's eyes a moment. Coming back to herself, she continued to Ingolemo. "I may at times not be enough in my attempts to lift their hearts." Ingolemo nodded and Arathin followed after Nain to see if he needed her help.

[Ecthelion]

Nain turned to Arathin as she came,"Arathin may we position your militia? For they will be great help if they are together with my men." She agreed and Nain began get people in position. Nain put up on the ledges of the wall that faced the water his 450 archers and his 350 light armor melee men that had bows and would come down when or if Mornclaur forces breach the wall, also with them were 3,000 of the miltia that would also go down and fight with swords when or if the Mornclaur forces breach the wall. Behind the gate and a few yards back from under the ledge stood 100 Heavy Armor Men Warriors and 100 Heavy Armor Dwarf Warriors, behind them were the other 2,000 militia that were better armored than the ones that were up on the wall. Ecthelion stood on the ledge with a bow and arrow and was going to be leading the archers. Nain was down below by the gate leading the heavy armored forces with the other Rangers. All they could do now is wait and hope for more miltia and some luck.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

After they had parted from the counsel with Lady Arathin, Dain left Rasec to walk amongst the people of Mithlond. Arathin had give the order for the civilians to leave for Bree, but many had stayed, inspired by their Lady's courage. Everywhere Dain looked, the citizens were preparing for war. Men and women of all ages and social classes were working together to prepare for an attack upon their city. A small old woman was carrying quivers of arrows, freshly made. A young lad no more that eight was carrying various metalwares to be melted and forged into armor for the militia. Everyone was worried and fearful for their lives, but they were determined to prevent the destruction of the city at all costs.

Men were an enigma to Dain Ironfoot. At times they were rash, power-hungry, and ununited, but nay, in times of war they bonded closer than any race on Middle Earth.

When Dain had reached Heren Istarion's camp, the moon had pierced through the clouds, shining pale beams of light onto the sea. The black masts appeared, like terrible wraiths they came, bearing a doom which Dain could not foretell.

"Alright men! The black sails come upon us in the black of night! But we will be ready for them!" the Dwarf shouted. The soldiers were already clad in armor, their weapons at their belts. "Archers: position youself with Lord Nain's troops upon the walls! Swordmen are to be inside the city, in front of the militia! Spearmen: follow me! We will be at the front of this storm!"

This was their first battle, they had been trained well, and they were ready.

[Anamatar IV]

As Arathin parted with Ingolemo he and the others of the Council of Heren Istarion went to a tent alone. Ingolemo lifted his sheath with his rapier concealed inside of it and hung it at his belt.

"We have minds for wisdom not for war. I do not request valiant deeds of you but to keep despair away from the armies!" Ingolemo spoke. "If one man cowers before the might of Umbar or loses hope for the masts blocking out the moon comfort them and put hope back into their hearts."

The Council left, each holding a banner of Heren Istarion. They walked to the walls of the city and joined the archers. They planted their banners firmly on the stone gloor next to the banners of the Rangers. Ingolemo turned towards the inland. The 200 spearmen of Heren Istarion, led by a battle-ready Dward, Dain Ironfoot walked a few final steps and halted. They stood in 5 rows of 40 spearmen. Ingolemo spoke to an archer of the Rangers who was quivering. His words were unheard by any yet the man stood still. And pride came into his eyes.

[Arathin]

Arathin nodded in satisfaction to Nain. He had placed the troops well. She herself took her Dunedain to the the inner mid-level of the city wall. Here she set them with their bows before many tiny slots through which they could fire at Mornclaur's forces, while being able to get to ground level quickly enough to defend the wall be it breached. Arathin herself left to the stables and shortly returned amoung her Dunedain. She was now clad as they in leather pants, leather boots, cotton shirt, and an worn cloak. Rauko Umbar, the Demon Slayer, was hung about her waist and a full quiver over her shoulder with bow in hand. Her visage was hard and cold as she stared through a slot onto the black ships. Her hand went to her sword and she unsheathed it. Turning to face the people in the city, she rose her sword high. With one graceful sweep, she brought it down. As she did so, a small 9 year old boy upon the tallest tower of the city rose Mithlond's flag high over the city. The flag caught high in the night breeze and a ragged cheer went up from all in the city as a flad of Mithlond was then raised from every tower within the city. Arathin turned back to the sea and watched the black boats coming.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

A ship landed at the entrance to the Branduin, and from it flew the banner of a fist. At the prow of the ship was a man, tall and terrible, and his eyes peirced the fog. 'Damned Arnorian winter, the fog is to our advantige now, but later it will hinder, no doubt." He looked to the first man on his right. His face was painted with yellow and red stripes, and the elblem of a fist on his right cheek. There were some twenty stripes, the highest he had allowed anyone to adorn. He was his leutenant. "Let me see the scroll from the dark lord agian." He took it in his hands, and read over it again. The ships sould be here within the hour. The legions of the Morhir were always punctual.

He ordered that the ship be emptied. The long months at sea without proper repair had done it little good, and it now rode low in the water. The men quickly emptied themselves and their few supplies from the ship. Once all were assembled on the shore, he nodded to two archers, who had hoisted themselves into trees (each of them had ten stripes, not a bad number). They nodded in return, and drew their bows to the ship. He could not burn it, the fog would carry the light all the way to Annuminas. The arrows flew. They each hit a seperate rope on the upper layer of the ship, and each of the ropes broke. Two huge, crude boards had been fastened to the side of the ship, to replace rotten ones, and each of them fell into the water. The ship lurched, and in twenty minutes had sunken completely beneith the water.

It was nearing noon, and the fog began to receed. And in the distance there could be seen, two small ships of Mornclaur. They began to unload their troops upon the shore, and their animals too. The first of their small boats to reach the shore contained the emmisaries, and the person who was to be the captain of his Mornclaurian regement. They stood from their boat and looked in awe at the men assembled upon the feild. They were in a triple-file line along the coast, and numbered somewhere near four hundred. Each of them had some sort of adornment, wether it be face paint, battle scars, or the imprint of the fist in their breastplate. And their armour was all painted red, which was matched to the crude banners flowing from different points in their ranks, banners of a bloody fist.

The hunter was pleased with Moraara, the captain that the Dark Lord had sent him. But his troops were far too... prettyl. He immediately set his own men to work on the six hundred Mornclaurians. They ame iwth paint, and with hammers with the imprint of the fist. Finnaly, as the men began to fall back into their respective ranks, the Mornclaurians looked like the mauraders they were to be. And, indeed, many of them thought that they felt like it, but they would truely know the power of the ferocity once they saw the hunter in battle, and once they partook of the blood of those to whom the hunter had been assigned. As soon as night fell, they moved out, each with dark mounts from the far east. The group of roughly one thousand riders made their way northward, following the river. To the east he could barely make out the remains of Eargond, the city destroyed by his first leutenant. After that failed campaign he learned that it would be better to run with the pack. They came on the eastern side of the river, and rode well into the night, and on to the next day. And there presence through this area, the nearly-destroyed Earhwesta, was never known.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The ride had stopped with the lowering, once again, of the sun. There was a large circle, some fifty men in width, that encompassed the hunter. He stood in it's center, where he looked over an old, tattered map. They had followed the rivers course, the latest leg upon the nearly-horizontle passage of the river. But, when it made a sharp turn northward, the raiders of the Hunter did not. They, instead made an easterly rout, which was slightly drawn up to the north, with an aim for the cross-roads of the Great South Road. They reached the road in the beginning of the evening, but had found themselves slightly south of their destination, where they were now standing.

He turned, and ordered that the men let loose their mounts in the circle, and to make the pattern larger, so that it made for nealry a quarter mile in diameter. The men were all on post, but they all ate, and they all rested. Men of the hunter do not need sleep, only time to rest their pounding hearts.

[Ciryaher]

The scouts reported to the Breeland commander, and he immediately gave the orders to his large garrison. The armies shifted in the darkness of night, the companies of archers and infantry moving silently in the darkness.

In the morning, there were a great many of the hobbit archers missing, but the fears of those remaining were lessened by the solemn nods of their commanders. Bree was now protected by a tight crescent of troops. Word had been sent to Annuminas, as well.

[Ecthelion]

Ecthelion squinted his eyes in the morning light looking over the water, most men were resting near their positions, few stood here and there talking or thinking. Ecthelion could see the black boats of the Corsairs, some stopping at the mouth, others traveling on. Something was up, Ecthelion got down the ladder and went to find Arathin. She was of course awake thinking to herself leaning against a wall ," Arathin," Ecthelion spoke in an almost confused voice ," The Corsairs, their stopping, some seem to be staying at The Mouth of Lhûn, others are sailing to other places that I cannot tell from here. I doubt that all the Corsairs are still aboard, maybe they need more time to plan or maybe they have already let off warriors that were not seen in the night, either way we should be on our toes." Ecthelion soon after went to wake Nain and tell him about the Corsairs.

[Arathin]

Arathin nodded to Ecthelion and turned to look out the arrow slot in the wall at the boats. Indeed they had stopped moving. Arathin was troubled by this, and sent the word about the Dunedain to keep a closer watch about the city.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

The soldiers were ready for battle, yet none came. A slender archer of Heren Istarion called down to him, her Elf eyes saw that the Mornclaur forces were sailing past the Gulf. Recalling a tactic he had used to trick Ghandar, the first Dragon on Erebor, Dain ran to Lady Arathin immediatly.

"Lady, I fear the Mornclaur are preparing to attack us from the rear of the city, no wall will get in their way if they have Dwarves with them!" he cried, fear and excitement in his eyes.

Perhaps I am being too rash, he thought to himself, But better to bring up the thought now then when we are being stabbed in the back!

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The men of Bree waited and waited, but the Enimey they half-expected did not come. And for the next week there would be no more reports, but they did not breath any the easier.

[Ecthelion]

Nain walks to Dain and Dain tells him his news. Nain ponders a little then says to Dain,"Yes it would be smart to put men in the back, but we have not many men even on the front. Perhaps just 100 miltia archers and 100 Ranger archers along with 50 dwarves will do well. Then if we are attacked there i will blow my horn and Ecthelion will now that help is needed or armies are coming." Dain nodded, Nain said again,"I will tell Lady Arathin on our way over, let us go." With that Nain, Dain, and 200 archers and 50 dwarves marched to the back of the city. The positioned the archers and dwarves and waited.

[Arathin]

Arathin saw Nain moving and learned his new positions. "Good idea." She replied. "If you blow your horn in need, I will send the second line of my Dunedain to aid you as well." Nain nodded and moved on to place his men anew.

[Ecthelion]

Ecthelion only watched for a moment as the Corsairs fired the Arnorian siege weapons. He quickly got together a plan in his head, but should he go through with hit, as he hastily thought a message came to him by bird. He read it and quickly shoved it in his pocket. He yelled, "Everyone get down to the gate we are going to stop the Corsairs!" Most looked happy and determined, but stll some were shaking. Ecthelion gave orders to have the gate opened. Ecthelion took off to get Arathin as he was blowing his horn to call Nain to join them. When Ecthelion made it to Arathin he spoke quickly, "Arathin, The Corsairs, the captured some siege weapons on the coast not far from here, they are attacking the Arnorian fleets. I recieved a letter from Jahdur, we must go help now! I am going to take the most of the miltia with me, my men and 325 of Heren Istarions forces, The Heren Istarion leaders wil stay behind in the city with their other men, also 800 of your miltia and 100 of my heavy armored men will stay behind just in case, you may stay here with your Dunedain or you may come with us." Ecthelion quickly ran off back to the gate. Now the gate was finally open. All warriors walked out under the gate Ecthelion leading them, every once and a while he would pick up the pace. As he walked he spoke a plan he had to all leaders of the armies as the walked at a good pace. The were walking past the mountain side now, the siege was having its way. Ecthelion stopped them at the edge of the mountain to position. Ecthelion looked over his shoulder at the siege weapon that had started burning. Ecthelion and the other leaders slowly walked forward with about 2,500 of the miltia 325 men of Heren Istarion forces and 750 of the Ranger Army. The other 1,500 militia and 150 Ranger Heavy Armored Warriors walked with Nain a little farther North. They would attack once Nain gave his horn blow signaling he was ready. Ecthelion looked behind him and thought he saw the Dundedain coming. he hoped they were. Minutes later Nains horn blew loudly and mightily. The Corsairs were just finishing their burnings when they heard it. Ecthelion and his men charged from the west and Nain and his men from the Northwest.

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo turned to Alkorr.

"This city is defended enough. We must go South and East as the others did. We may be tardy but we must be there!" Alkorr nodded in silent agreement.

The Council of Heren Istarion started organizing the remaining forces of Heren Istarion into a cavalry. 50 archers, 50 swordsmen, and 125 spearmen were assembled, with Ingolemo at their head. They spurred their horses and passed East through the gates. They rode hard to the havens.

[Snaga]

In the high places of the Misty Mountains, a new evil awoke. Its coming unlooked for, yet no less horrible for its long dormancy. Beneath the shroud of night, came a hammer blow, a cruel and sickening assault. And it was set against the ancient refuge of Imladris. For an age and a half this place had been a waystation for the weary traveller and source of counsel and merriment for the troubled mind.

That epoch was now shattered, as the troll guard descended by night.

What stealth is needed besides the dark of night and the endless of roar of a raging mountain torrent? Even a vast gathering of trolls, beyond all that were seen before and mayhap since, can in these circumstances make surprise their ally. The more so when they are aided by the dark arts of the Olosingolë

Thus, from a shimmering shadow to a bellowing tide of destruction they were transformed like a whisper, right on the very threshold of the house that had been Elronds.

Doors thrown down. Oak timbers strewn like matches.

Walls shattered. Rocks crushed.

Lintels fall, steps cracked, statues disfigured, artifices marred.

And defenders tossed aside, their skulls smashed, limbs ruined, throats mauled. A reek of blood dripping in the black of night, and crying of sad voices of beauty, then the anguished wails cut short. Boulders flying, clubs swinging, vast axes crashing on brittle heads. And the bellowing deep and raucous, yet not mindless but filled with malice and cunning as though poured from the heart of Mordor itself.

Some defence there was, but arrows skittered from the trolls scaly hides, bereft of purpose in their very flight. Swords notched, spears thrusts rebuffed, the shafts shivered and failed. Shields buckled beneath appalling blows. And in their wake a swarm of orcs, thousands strong jeering their derision at the long awaited downfall of the hated name of Rivendell.

Some refugees on fast horses made their way west along the great road, perhaps pursued by marauding wargs and some few outrunning pursuit to bring at last belated news to the men of Bree. Some could not speak still mute with terror, and only the aghast expression telling more than even elven words could say. Yet those who did in their clear and troubled voices, made clear a new woe had befallen the west.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The mists of battle rose in a ghostly shade on the morn after the battle. The trolls had found themselves places within the ground to spend the day, and the Hunter looked out from a ruined wall over the city. His forces now occupied it, but soon they would move again. The grass here, or what was left of it, was good for their steeds, and the ale was rich, and the fine wine richer. He would hearten his men here, for a day maybe. But after that it would be too risky. After that other garrison's from other cites could arrive, and their numbers were unknown to him.

But for now he stood on the wall, and for now he looked to the westward sunset, and it was not yet as bloody as it would be in the days to come.

[Snaga]

Snaga sat in the castle of Angmar, darkly brooding, watching a slow plan unfold. Irontooth grinned balefully at his feet, as messengers came and went, bringing fearful reports.

Since the flight of Lorien, and surrender of the castle the northern campaign had slowed. But Snaga was patient, and used the time well. Angmar, evil from the earliest of days, was a land that fell smoothly under his control, apt to his hand. Dark-hearted men, cowered at a new lords surveying their endeavours, sharpening their swords, and hardening their hearts. And they prepared for battle.

In the fortress itself, built on a high rocky crag, the loathsome army of the Necromancer was no more. Without his dark arts to bind sinew to bone and undead flesh, the ghastly patrols of deathly soldiers ceased. Carcasses had fallen, and lain hideous upon the icy stones.

Snaga, coming last to the scene, when all was safe, had called upon his old ally Artos, Wolf-tamer of that land. And they brought a pack of ravening wargs, and fed them on the unnatural meats, and succoured them, and they grew to be stronger and evil than any, even than Irontooth himself. Only a hundred there were, but that would prove scant consolation.

And still the great armies of dwarves and Easterlings of Mornclaur stood ready. While the north of Eriador, outside the ring, was all but deserted outside those few towns that yet had militia. Deserted save for gangs of orcs that looted and burned in wild delight.

'Bring to me the commanders!' Snaga snarled at an aide, who fled immediately to do his bidding.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

Dawn had come and past, and so had the hours of noon, and now dusk was falling over the land of Arnor. He called to the commander of the soldiery of Khazad, and there he was told that the men of the dwarven realm had neither received nor been given any orders, save to take the valley. And that in that valley they would stay, until their superiors spoke otherwise.

The hunter nodded. This would play well, for the great mass of soldiers of the dwarves would keep the city from the hands of the Arnorians, and he was free to go on his way.

Suddenly, though, as quick as a fly he turned on his heels, and looked to the east. His stare was hard, as though he was trying to pierce the mountain with his bright green eyes. He smiled. He now knew something that he had wondered as of late.

As the sun set, the hunter and his mass of war-painted soldiers arose from the valley. They made their way off to the west, and dissapeared into the darkness and gloom. Until at last their hoof-beats faded to silence. For not even the insects had withstood the ferocity of the battle the night before.

[Anamatar IV]

The soldiers of Heren Istarion rode on at a quick pace across the grasses. The sun glinted off their spears and the grasses sprang up from under their hooves. A strong blast of wind blew back the horses mane.

Though Ingolemo looked not over his shoulder at the seas he thought of his allies fighting the black ships. But soon his mind trailed back to his own soldiers. The horses were tiring and the riders were weary. They would have to stop and rest soon. But for now they rode on.

[Anamatar IV]

After a short rest the company rode off again. Ingolemo rode ahead of the others. Soon the soldiers saw Bree loming ahead, with rolling hills and dense forests. It would be some time before they reached the villages, but seeing Bree gave a lift to all hearts.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Careful not to show his discomfort, Dain grumbled to himself as his horse carried him across the undulating terrain. This horse especially seemed to dislike the heavy burden upon its shoulders. A young lieutenant of Heren Istarion, his spear gleaming in the fading sun, rode next to Dain, despair on his face. "What troubles you, young one?" asked the Dwarf.

"My fellow soldiers were prepared to fight to protect Mithlond, yet battle never came. We fear for what may lay in store for us at Bree. Perhaps it was folly for us to travel to Mithlond and leave Bree undefended. My heart warns me of trouble ahead and terrible power, and I pray to Eru every waking moment that the refugees will still be alive when we arrive," he said softly.

"Young one, I do not think it wise to think with such despair in our time of need. I sense you and your comrades will have their chance in battle before we return to Heren Istarion. May Mahal bless you with the strength of his forges, for I fear we will need it when our trial is at hand," Dain replied. The lieutenant nodded and rode ahead to his platoon, for Dain was at the rear. The sun had started to sink in the open sky, its rays pouring over the horizon lighting the grass on fire with its orange glow. Dain's face was grim and foreboding, for in his heart he knew he would be tested before the end.

[Anamatar IV]

Among the councils of Heren Istarion an air hung about Ingolemo. An air that had not been felt before from him. A change of heart in deep matters, maybe. Or a tempest of the mind, perhaps.

"Excuse us, Ërvûrkeá," Ingolemo said. "The council and I will leave you for a moment to discuss matters our own briefly." All but Ërvûrkeá left the tent.

Moments later Ërvûrkeá heard the sound of horse hooves beating quickly. He sped out the tent to see the last of the soldiers of Heren Istarion riding away from Bree.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

Noon rose in Arnor, and the men of the hunter gleamed in their armor. And all over the land, the wind brought whispers of death, and of evil. And the first news of the fall of Imladris began to rise to the ears of the war-torn nation...

[Ciryaher]

Ërvûrkeá narrowed his eyes. "His Majesty will hear of this," he said, mocking the figures now fading into the distance. Taking a look around, he stepped back into the tent.

From a small pouch he pulled a small yellow stone along with a cylinder of plain stone with a small indentation on the top. The Northman set the pedestal upon the ground and then placed the tiny golden globe in the indentation. Sitting cross-legged on the earth before the stone, he closed his eyes.

His mind reached out to the east, and then swung south as he connected to the stone's maker. Lord...

Yes? a voice came back, as if through a tunnel.

There are strange goings on. The Heren Istarion has just left, even though the Emperor ordered me to remain with them.

I see. I will continue to monitor them, Ërvûrkeá. Do not fear betrayal, for that would only give strength to our side of the struggle. The voice reassured sternly.

Yes, m'lord. Ërvûrkeá opened his eyes and collected the stones and replaced them as he rose to his feet.

[Arathin]

Arathin, her Dunedain, and her militia traveled along the bay until they saw the navel fleet of Umbar ahead. Remaining hidden in a forest, they watched and waited so see what would happen to these people in their land. Arathin called down an eagle and instructed it to fly toward Bree and check up on her militia that had been lent to HI.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

Two forces of unknown power and position rode through Arnor. And little did they know how close they would indeed become.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Dain was proud of being a part of Heren Istarions finest moment, in which they openly disobeyed the orders of the Lord of Arnor. He did not care for such large Empires, and especially the West. Erebor was his home, and there was his only feelings of security and trust. The West was full of deceit and lies, and Heren Istarion had just embarked on its own personal goals; this would prove to be their greatest moment of triumph- or utter defeat.

The troops rode hard into the night, desperate to leave the lands of Arnor before being cut off and slaughtered by the oppressive Arnorians. Dain's axe gleamed with a deathly glow of white, and no stars shone in the dark sky.

[Arathin]

An eagle circled for a few moments above the fleeing forces of HI, then turned and winged with the wind back to Mithlond. When it gave its lady, Arathin, its news, she was in a silent rage. She immediately sent an rested eagle in search of Ërvûrkeá. This betrayal of HI would never do... Also, she wanted to make sure HI hadn't made off with her people whom she had sent with them.


Ërvûrkeá saw the eagle overhead and lifted his arm. It landed upon his wrist with a message of Lady Arathin's concern and inquiry.

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo and the others of the Council of Heren Istarion rode with sixty soldiers behind them. Twenty spearmen, archers, and swordsmen.
Ingolemo knew where he had told the other groups to go, yet he did not know where they were, which route they took, or whether they took rode or plains. But he would lead his company over the roadless grasses slightly south eastward from Annuminas.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

And there, some two miles before them, lay a segment of the horde of the Hunter. And indeed, the hunter was with them. From the direction they were headed, the Heren Istarion could see an inverse light coming from the distance, a dark blackness that clung to the sky, and suck the light and joy from the hearts of those who beheld it. They came at last over a small embankment, and before them they saw 300 men, all of them painted like blood-thirsty savages. And Ingolemo knew that these where the ones he was told about that these were the ones who had sacked and destroyed Imladris.

With a cry of savage insanity, the horde began to lurch foreward.

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo halted the soldiers. The horde was coming at a moderate pace, so they had time.

"Knock your arrows!" Ingolemo cried. His band of archers whipped their long wooden arrows with red feathers out and put them to the long, green string of their bows. Without command, the spearmen rode their horses between the archers and pointed their pikes straight. The swordsmen divided into two and rode to either side. Ingolemo planted the banner of Heren Istarion firmly into the soft soil. He glanced at the other leaders of Heren Istarion: Sulime held his axe aloft, taking glee in the oncoming battle. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the coming of the soldiers outnumbering they greatly. Ingolemo drew his rapier.

"To the fore!"

[¤-Elessar-¤]

as the horde advanced, it split into three distinct sections. One came on a straight path, and it was a group of the hunter's own, his first men, and his highest captains. The other two were of his newer men, and of the men of mornclaur. Each of them split from the main group, and headed to the right or to the left. They rode oh fell horses of the far east. The hunter drew, for the first time in months, his fell sword. The flames forged of blood flamed in the sunlight. And with ferocity unmatched in the histories of the west, the horde came within one hundred yards of the Heron Istarion.

(my men are at 10, 2, and 12 o'clock. Just in case that confused you)

[Anamatar IV]

The riders of Heren Istarion swiftened their pace. Once in range the archers bent their bows and let fly a hail of arrows upon the middle group of the horde. The two groups of swordsmen branched off and attacked the two side groups. The spearmen, though, followed no order and drove into any battle that they felt fit for they were the dominant force in the army of Heren Istarion.

[Ciryaher]

As the forces of the Hunter and the Heren Istarion clashed to the southeast, the gates of Fornost Erain opened and a host marched out.

Their armour was of a blue shade, just as the Emperor's axe, Bregoldramb Naurlhûn. Upon their blue and silver breastplates was the Crest of Atannore emblazoned, and their blue swords were covered with silver runes. Their silver helms bore each an azure plume (ooc: think corinthian) and they word pale blue capes. These were the dreaded elite of Arnor, the Praetorian Guard of the Emperor, the Makarlhûn.

They marched at steady speed towards the city of Bree.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The center group paused in their march, for that was the design of the hunter. They did not lick their wounds, though many of the small volley of arrows had found marks. Any wounds that were not mortal were quickly forgotten.

The two side groups were still advancing quickly, but the hunter blew a great black horn across the snowy field, and they paused.
The two sections of the horde stood there, a few mere yards from the men of the Heren Istarion, and for a moment, the fog of their breath mingled in the air, and danced it's way toward the weak sunlight.

All muscles were tense, and all minds were racing. With a single-word omen, the men of the hunter disgarded their mounts. And with a ferocious cry, the first two sections of the horde threw themselves at the Istarion, and with sword and axe and tooth and nail, they began to slowly claw their way toward the centre of the ranks.

The fighting progressed a mere minute or so before teh lust of the hunter overcame him. He turned to his own company, and gave the signal for them to advance. With thundering force they came, with sturdy mounts and drawn blades, into the frey.

The hunter lept from his horse, now slain, and ran through the flying sinew and blood until he came within the protective ring. And there, before him, was Ingolemo the great, and the hunter wiped the blood of his blade on his torn pants.

[Anamatar IV]

The archers of Istarion fired into center group more often and with more precise bolts. Though the infantry of Heren Istarion was greatly outnumbered the advantage of the Hunter was lessoned when they dismounted. The mounted swordsmen charged into the oncoming horseless attackers and broke their lines with little loss. The spearmen attacked in the same way but with much less loss, for their pikes were long.

Ingolemo looked at the Hunter with a long gaze and held up his rapier, ready to spar.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The hunter grinned, even as the blood of a man of the west dripped from his dark bangs. Though he looked it, he had not yet had his first blood. And his sword hungered for it.

He lunged at Ingolemo, and but was deflected by the megre rapier. His second blow was directly overhead, and the rapier was not massive enough to completely stay the blow of the massive broadsword. It was enough, and yet it failed. The hunter's blade, while missing the vitality of it's foe, had found flesh, and in that flesh it tasted it's first blood.

The hunter withdrew his assault, and stood back from Ingolemo. He raised the jet black sword to the sky, and the pure blood ran down it's length, igniting the flames, wrought in blood of evil, and sending a high-pitched sound across the battlefield. The sword was calling for blood, calling for death.

And now the Hunter's eyes were not his own, for he was firstly bonded to the sword, and it's command was his life. And all of the slaves of the hunter heard the sound too, and the bloodlust came upon them renewed, and in a greater force. For they were also bonded to the blade, through the will of the Hunter.

The blade called out, too, beyond the battlefield, and a few miles to the south, the other half of the army of the Hunter came speeding, in search of pleasure and in search of blood.

It was flee or die for Heren Istarion. Ingolemo could see that his numbers, though their strength were high, were no match for the awe-inspiring wreckless abandon and thirst for blood of the horde. Neither side had yet to take great casualties...

[Anamatar IV]

Ingolemo looked up from his searing pain and lifted a great horn. He wound it with a long clear note. The soldiers of Heren Istarion retreated back to him. It seemed that they would retreat but that blood did not run in Heren Istarion.

When all the soldiers of Heren Istarion were together Ingolemo sounded his horn once more and the horsed fighters charged together into the flanks of battle once more. And as the Istarion met the attackers horns sounded to the North and South. As these horns sounded clear in the cold airs the Hunter's soldiers were dismayed. A banner of Heren Istarion flying high in the wind appeared behind the attackers.

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Dain's army rode towards the Hunter's men with the force of a hundred men, all brimming with eagerness to slay their foes. Dain blew once more on the silver horn, its song was deep and terrible, yet full of pride and strength. The men of the Hunter were trapped between two deaths, one as painful and terrible as the next. They were trapped between the deadly scissors of Heren Istarion, and the blades were closing in around the head of the Hunter's army. Dain's axe, Kheled-bruk shimmered with a pale blue light, its radiance biting into the eyes of the enemy soldiers. It sunk deep into its first victim, resounding with a noise of triumph and glory, and drowning out the shrill cry of the black blade of the Hunter.

[Anamatar IV]

As Dain Ironfoot, galant captain of Heren Istarion and his men charged into the back flanks of the hunter's soldiers a smaller band of horsemen came from the North. 50 men there were, all spearmen.

All three groups of Istarion attacked from three sides and closed about the hunter's soldiers. The noose was set. Its knot was being pulled tight.

[Ciryaher]

The Makarlhûn arrived in Bree by the end of the same day that they had set out. They spent a short time seeing to the increase of the city's defenses, and then took to bed.

In the morning they broke their fast and marched out of the city, heading east. The morning sun reflecting off of their armour threw ferocious glints of light over their path.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

But the Hunter was not yet overcome. And the horde was in a frenzy for fresh blood. They formed a circle, some ten men deep (for they still outnumbered the Heren Istarion 2:1). And from the innards of that circle, men came flying over, and crawling under legs, just to taste the pure blood of the west. And...

The blade called out, too, beyond the battlefield, and a few miles to the south, the other half of the army of the Hunter came speeding, in search of pleasure and in search of blood.


From the south, were the men were of Dain, and were numbered in the few, came a full force of Five Hundred of the Blood-Thirsty men of the hunter. They had come as quickly as their strength would prevail, but their passion for blood had risen, as the time from the calling had increased, and now they were as animals. They came down the southern bank in a frenzy, in no certain line and in no certain order. But they were all mounted, and they all brandished swords of lethal intent.

They clashed with Dain's fifty men, and from both sides the noose was drawn on Dain. And one by one his men began to fall. From the opposite sides of the field, the men were no longer attacking, but defending with their great painted shields.

Now the numbers were a stacked 4:1, and the men of Dain were falling, however gallaintly, like flies. And soon, it seemed, Dain himself would meet the harsh blades of the Hunter's Men.

And a presence coming from the west was known...

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Dain was a veteran of many a battle, but he was not one to let his men fall without a valiant stand.

"Do not let them close around us! Clear a path to the setting Sun! Follow her rays of hope!" Dain bellowed to the remaining troops, forty at most. Not far from his position fought Ingolemo, his number still strong, yet his own casualties beginning to rise as well. He heard the Dwarf's desperate command, and made eye contact with Dain amongst the fury and passion of battle. Dain's eyes trailed to the man with the black sword, the Hunter, the one who had frenzied their troops into a bloodthirsty rage set on death and revenge. Ingolemo nodded, he knew what they must do, and Dain fought his way through the evil Men towards the Hunter, Kheled-bruk now shimmered like the dawn, for its surface was marred with the red life of the Hunter's men.

Dain's men fought to the widening gap, their desperation and anger slicing through the Men of the Hunter. Yet their final stand was not enough, for by the time they reached their goal, naught but ten men were left, and they all fell in turn to the bloodlust of the Hunter's Men. But their last stand had done more damage to the Hunter's Men than even the Hunter himself could expect. For the fleeing men of Heren Istarion had drawn the attackers away from Ingolemo and his troops, leaving them utterly trapped within the surronding remaining forces of Heren Istarion, though their numbers were greatly lesser.

Whilst all this occured, Dain hurled a throwing axe at the Hunter, and Ingolemo charged with his blade.

[Anamatar IV]

Gindorg rode at the head of his cavalry. He was the captain of the larger group of Heren Istarion. There were 40 swordsmen and 30 archers and spearmen. They rode to the aid of the squabbling remains of Dain's forces.

In the mean time, the Guard of Heren Istarion, the 60 best trained soldiers of Heren Istarion of which Ingolemo was in command drove into the forces of the Hunter. No matter how great the odds were, Heren Istarion would not back down until The Dark Lord himself came forth and broke the ground asunder.

The company of Gindorg felled many of the Hunter's men. Gindorg himself rode into battle with a lance and many a fell person he slew. Where were the others of Heren Istarion? I deem that if they do not come we will be at a fault in this battle. He thought as he drove his way through the ranks of savages.

Ingolemo clashed blades with the Hunter as Dain's axe came hurtling towards him. Ingolemo was out for the blood that the Hunter had stole from his with his devillish sword.

********************

The greater part of the army of Heren Istarion arrived in Bree that day.

"What do you mean they have not yet come?" Rasec, a captain of the army said. "They should have arrived before us! Why has Ingolemo not come?" Rasec was speaking to a scout of Bree. At that moment another Bree-man walked up to Rasec.

"Excuse me, lord, but I couldn't help overhearing. There's been talk of a battle away north. Might your comrades be in it?" A look of grave danger entered Rasec's eyes. He mounted his horse and led his soldiers with as much haste he could.

[Ciryaher]

The Makarlhûn were now due south of the battle. Less than a league they stood from the clash of the Heren Istarion and the forces of The Hunter. The sounds of battle were carried to their ears by a breeze from the north.

In a united voice, they uttered Death. Almost instantly, the massive column began to split into several sections, each of which was rectangular. The groups of men lined and covered themselves with shields and formed each into the testudo. All of the groups arranged themselves into a broad diamond shape.

With another cry, this time Vengeance, they began marching forward; their spears, swords, axes, and bows bearing the fear of death and slaughter upon them.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The hunter realized of the new enimy, but it seemed too late. With an angry cry he began screaming orders, and his men were stumbling over each other in an effort to please him. Very soon, though, he had a signal from all points that they were ready. He drew his horn to his lips, and let out a long, high note. And, as though by some foul, evil, magic, the entirety of the Hunter's force turned, and they split into two smaller groups, and then headed to both the east and the west.

When the great troops of the emporer arrived, they found nothing but tired, dying, and dead soldiers of the Heren Istarion.

[Anamatar IV]

The soldiers of Rasec came up quickly with swords drawn but it seemed they were too late. The battle was over. The grass was stained black with blood and moans of pain and tire were heard across the plains.

Rasec dismounted and ran in search of Ingolmo or, at the least, his body. He found Ingolemo as well as Dain and Gindorg in a nearby tent getting treated for their wounds.

Rasec dropped to one knee.

"Lord, I fear much hurt has come to Heren Istarion. The moaning of the soldiers outsides tells me this." Ingolemo replied sharply.

"Indeed no. Hurt has come to us but not a crippling hurt. Our men died valiantly but only some have indeed fallen. Many are hurt (such as I) but those moans you hear are more the cries of wariness. It has been a long and hard battle and we are tired." At this point Ingolemo shifted in his chair and spoke again. "I believe that if not for the might of Gindorg's company and the valiance of Dain's Heren Istarion would have fully perished and you would have come to the battle field and faced all odds against you." Ingolemo rose as the healer strapped a cloth to his wound in his arm that the Hunter's fell sword had given him. Ingolemo's arm was limp at his side and could not be moved easily. The other captains of Heren Istarion followed him out and began to order their soldiers. They would ride again soon.

[Ciryaher]

The Makarlhûn divided into two groups and immediately set out after the fleeing enemies. The only contact that was made between the soldiers of Arnor and of the Heren Istarion was when an armed man of great height and a red beard said simply, "We will return. Meet in Bree, if you wish to join."

They then sped off, with the red-haired man seeking and following the tracks of the leader of the enemy.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The raiders of the hunter had fled in two distinct groups, one to the east and one to the west of the battle. There, those that had dismounted were re-united with their beasts, and quickly they were both off in a northern direction. Each army was assigned a different curve to follow, so that each of the two met at the top of a great arch, with the men of Arnor following in close persuit. The hunter could see that his men still numbered somewhere near 900, but knew that one thousand of the greatest fighters of the west would easily slay them, for they were tired, and the bloodlust had drank a healthy dose from their will and from their spirits. He turned to his first commander, an old general of the east, who still had the fire of the lust in his eyes.

The hunters instructions were complete, if breif.
"Go now north, and wait for me where the might of the west once stood."
The man nodded, knowing exactly as to what the hunter was referring.

The hunter sat there. And, atop his black steed with