Ohtacárë i nwalmë úquétima:The Girdle of Goroth

[Dengen-Goroth]

The pallid glint of the moon cascaded down the slight slopes of that which was once known as the Brown Lands. Now, neath that morbid halo there stood in behemoth spans the armies of the Dark Lord. Torches danced and flickered as a night breeze flew through that plain, which was before the feet of the Mountains of Ash. The long foreseen rising of the East was nigh at hand. A great choir of drums echoed, announcing the arrivial of warmaster Lachadaw Saew before those assembled. A great spectacle met the soldiers’ sight. Five Oliphaunts strode forth, in a formation which from the perspective of one looking from the heavens towards the earth formed a pentagon, and betwixt them there was a platform, which they all carried upon their backs, a burden which was set with the Warmaster as well as some aids. This was an observation platform, its intent to allow the Warmaster to view the battle above the heads of the soldiers and cavalry. It was escorted by a century of High Cavalry, which were masters of warfare both with blade and bow, and had command of a steed which was developed over years. Their black armor concealed their presence well, as did their helms conceal their expressions, for a mask was over the face, once which was molded to form a stern, impartial expression. The Oliphaunts halted, and Saew rose and strode towards the side of the platform which faced the massive hordes of legionaries, awaiting his decree and call for battle.
“Akin to the rising of the sun our time hath risen, and our Eastern horizon is behind us, but our western destiny afore. The call for blood hath arisen from our Lord whose power is invested in us, whom we have not the option to fail. Behold, for Noon is nigh!” To this he took up a horn which rested by his right side and that great triumphant tone rang across wild valleys and placid meadows, a note was reached as had not been heard, and it made the army roar with fresh wrath, admiration, pride, but most of all determination. The March to Gondor had begun, and the beginning of what would be the Girdle of Horror was sown.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The hunter laughed, his body conceled behind a rock. He was bare, now, having stown his cloathing into his pack. Suddenly, the entire army seemed to turn and look, as the arrival of an officer of Mornclaur proceded. There was a man(rather large in the waist), seated on the outskirts of the boulder-field. The hunter snuck up behind him, a small metal wire in his hands. The wire had two wooden handles. He gripped them and twisted the wire around until it made a loop. In one fluid motion he dropped the wire over the man's head, and pulled it like a tight noose. He pulled harder... the man's large amounts of fat were making him difficult... But at last he got the leverage to slick the mans head from his body. He quickly pulled the man's neck downward, so not to soil the clothing and armour with blood. He dressed himself, and was quick to note that his sleek, muscular body did not fill out the armour. He sighed, it would have to do for now.

[Elbereth]

It is well before dawn as the companies of Greater Gondor, Lebbenin, Anorien, and Belfalas ushered into Minas Tirith joining the muster of troops already in the city. As each company files in,the crowd cheers loudly, pleased by the grand parade. Thosands of troops resplendant in uniforms of many colors marched by, the flag of the White tree waving proudly, serving as the common thread that binds them together as one nation.

Upon a balcony on the seventh tier of the city, Valar and his most trusted General, Maedhros watch the troops enter from above.
"I see that five of the seven companies have arrived, Maedhros...but what of the last two?" Valar asks not looking up from the scene below.

"We've gotten word that the companies from Anfalas and Andrast are but five hours behind the last troops of from Belfalas. They will be arriving at Minas Tirith by mid-morning, Sire." Maedhros replied promptly

Valar looked weary, but a glint of fierce determination burned in his eyes as he looked over his men below. "That leaves us with approximately 64,000 troops to send north. We shall not delay. Dengen's forces have already gathered in the Brownlands and have started their march toward Gondor. I will lead the first of the troops to the North, while you stay behind until the remaining troops arrive...do not delay...we will need reinforcements. I will send word when a rendevous point has been established. Until then continue up the northern road toward Ithlien."

"Yes sir!" Maedhros replied stolidly.

Valar then left the balcony and made his way down to the gates of the city to begin the trek northward, General Maedhros following closely behind. Along the way, however, Maedhros noticed that with every flight of stairs they descended, Valar became more and more weary, until his breathing became forced and labored and his face became flushed and moist with perspiration. Finally Valar stopped. He had but one flight more to descend.

"Maedhros, I can't go on. A strange weariness has come over me...I don't know what it is...but you must lead the troops to the North in my place. We have no time to spare."

"Your Highness, are you quite sure?" Maedhros questioned, very concerned for he had never seen his King in such a state.

"Yes, go...I shall recover and follow behind with the two remaining companies.", Valar replied hoarsely.

"As you wish your highness. I shall send word once we have reached Ithlien." Maedhros replied.

Maedhros then continued down the flight of stairs toward the muster of troops below, as two of the guards from the second gate of the city help take Valar to the House of Healing.

[Elbereth]

Flying above the northern road from Minas Tirith on a majestic silver eagle, Elbereth witnesses, the spectacular armies of Gondor march toward Ithlien, their helms and spears sparkling in the early morning sun. At the front line of men Maedhros atop his white stead catches sight of the great bird and recognizes it as Elbereth's and calls his men to a halt. Dismounting his grand horse, Maedhros meets the queen as she descends on the road in front of that splendid army. The General offers his hand as Elbereth dismounts the grand eagle.

"My Lady, it is indeed an honor to be visited by the royal highness herself." says Maedhros bowing to kiss her hand.

Elbereth bows slightly, "Thank you General, however, there is no time for pleasantries, I have seen Dengen's forces moving swiftly through the southern end of the Brownlands. It is a massive force and I fear if we delay much longer, Ithlien will be lost."

"I shall push our forces to reach Ithlien before dusk then."

"I urge you to reach there sooner, but I have confidence that you shall make it through." She then looked beyond Maedhros searching concern and worry written on her face. "General, why is the king not here leading the troops?"

"He has taken ill, my lady, and quite suddenly. A strange weariness overtook him just before we reached the last decent to the courtyards of Minas Tirith. He has commanded that I lead the Gondor until he has recovered."

"Strange indeed...I sense foul play in this illness. I shall go to him directly." Elbereth thinks to herself. Then to Maedhros, "He is wise in sending you ahead. There is no time to lose and you are his best commmander. I have full faith in you. But alas! I must not delay you any longer. Good speed General Maedhros, May Eru be with you...Namarie, Nai hiruvalye i dacil.

"Farewell, Queen Elbereth." Maedhros says bowing.

Elbereth then mounted the Silver Eagle who carried her to Minas Tirith to tend to the king.

[Elbereth]

Arriving in Minas Tirith an hour later, Elbereth finds that indeed the king ails of a mysterious illness and is lying unconcious in the house of healing. By his side is the herb-master who is busy preparing kingsfoil in a pewter bowl of steaming water. However, the kingsfoil has no effect, and the king remains unconcious.

Seeing this, Elbereth instructs the herb master to remove the kingsfoil and return with a fresh bowl of boiling water. Reluctantly the herb master does as he is instructed, unsure what the Queen could know about healing, but unwilling to argue. As the herb-master leaves the room, Elbereth places her hand an inch above Valar's body and then proceeds to run her hand over him scanning his body from foot to head. Reaching his forehead, her hand then stops abruptly, as if not by her own will. Then closing her eyes, Elbereth fallsinto a trance and begins speaking in a tongue unknown to all in the room.

Returning to the room the herb-master, places the bowl of boiling water on a table near the bed and steps aside as Elbereth continue her foreign monologue. She then opens her eyes and sighs deeply.

"I am afraid there is not enough kingsfoil to heal the evil that afflicts the king."

Elbereth then pulls a green pouch from under her cloak, and pours its contents into the steaming bowl besides the bed. A cloud of silver and gold begins to rise from the bowl and fills the room with a sweet fragrance unlike anything the herb-master has ever experience. The colorful cloud then circles about the room, settling above the body of the King Valar. Momments pass with no response, but just as the herb-master is about to speak his objections. Valar's eyes open, and he sits upright, as if awaken from a long nights sleep.Then from the doorway a messenger enters the room:

"Your highness, the troops from Anafalas and Andrast have just arrived and are awaiting your command. Shall I tell them you are on your way?"

[Valar]

*Valar looked strangely around the rooms, everyone was coming into focus. He looked to his left, and Elbereths beauty shinned through. His heart and resulution regained their former vigour. He smiled..*

"My dear it seems i took a most unfortunate turn. And i am no more blind to the evil that can surround us. A few days ago, as the tides of war was stiring. I looked towards mordor, and vail seemed over my eyes, and as i my mind tried to peirce it, i felt a sharp pain in my head and it by some unknown blow, i was struck down. Every since i have not felt myself, until now that is."

*He stood up and he wavered for a second, and healer rushed in to steady him, but Valar held up his hand firmly.*

"I am fine, i shall take the troops from Anafalas and Andrast, after a few alterations, i trust they have arrived"

"Yes they are awaiting you orders my dear" Elbereth spoke softly

"Then all is ready, We shall depart before dawn tomorrow" he looked at a guard "Fetch my Armor and see too that Menelus is ready"

*The guard gave him an uneasy look as he departed, fearing the kings health*

*He looked out the window towards the white tree, with strengh in his eyes*

[Valar]

*Valar thought long and hard through the night, and at dead midnight a thought came to him. He woke up Elbereth*

"My dear can you do something for me....."

*As he looked out to the clear night, an Eagle swooped down from a higher window, and headed north. He Put on his Armor and stepped outside. The guards all snapped to attention, but with a wave of the hand stood at ease. Turning to one*

"Get the majority of the troops inside the first inner wall, make ready our anti seige weapons, and fetch all weapons from the crafters, i sense a change in the tides of war, we must prepare to be ungulfed"

[Maedhros]

"Have the sentries and scouts been dispatched captain?" Maedhros asked.
"Yes general, as per your instructions, do you think that we will reach our destination in time?" Captain Marcus replied.

"We have no choice, Marcus. I sense that we stand in great peril. There is something strangely odd about this. We must be ready for everything. Are the supply lines and the materials that I requested well ordered?"

"Yes, sir! The supply lines are ready, as well as the other materials, but I wonder why would we need such things in the upcoming battle."

"Marcus, we have been in to many battles together, you should know by now that war is an art of deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
The time is coming my friend, yes it's coming."

[Eomer Dinmention]

A messenger rides to Gondor. As he reaches there. He is taken to Maedhros and Valar.

*Messenger kneels down.

"My lord, Eothain, sent me here to say, that an army of Rohirrrim, willl be aiding Gondor in its fight soon. They are about to leave Erech"

[Valar]

Nodding his head, Valar thanked the messenger. Turning to Maedhros.
"I'm glad the Rohirrim will once again be at our Aid, the i feel i do not deserve it." To the messenger "Please tell King Eomer that, his friendship touches my heart and is greatly appriciated"

"Maedhros, i feel we need to stratagise more, let us talk in private" (I.E PM me!)

[Dengen-Goroth]

“Warmaster Saew, perhaps I am mistaken but we should not delay longer unless it is the ring of our fall, not our triumph, that we desire.”
“Your intelligence has not devolved to the point where it would be mocking the speaker who would compare it to a rat, however you are nearing that point with all due haste. I have had it well known, I believe, that it displeases me to be addressed with anything but Warmaster. If this error is repeated, your barbaric flesh shall find its end with the utmost of remorse. However, sound the march!”
Within moments the General who had thus spoken to the Warmaster retreated to give the command to begin the march. The great force of the Warmaster was descending into North Ithilien. The roars of beasts resounded through the lands, and it would be with haste that they would be upon sight of Cair Andros, if they were not delayed.

[Eomer Dinmention]

*As Eothains army rode. A day passed and they were still 2 days away from reaching Minas Tirith. Though they rode steadily and swift

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The hunter began the march. He laughed to himself. He was marching... in an army... as a mere infantryman. Ha. He knew where they were going, though. And he knew the ways of that city. He had a memory of being there, of seeing the crowning of the new king, he thought. They marched onward, for days that melted into a blur. Every few minutes or so they would pass a body lying on the ground, some poor fool that could not keep up, and was trampled. He would take joy in making his bootprint in the bloodied flesh. They walked on and on, along the rim of the mountains, and the blur continued... days after their beginning, the mountains of Ash ended. To the south streched the mountains of shadow, and too the east lay the dead marshes, where the spirits of souls lost in battle still dwell....

[Dengen-Goroth]

Saew strode towards the bank of the Anduin and beheld before him Cair Andros. Already ,as it was, a number of his forces had crossed onto those banks and a crude bridge, to be replaced within days if not hours, was being constructed to allow passage onto that isle. A young man, with dark skin and brown eyes approached him, his black chestplate with it's reliefs in silver of the Dagor Bragollach, the river's of fire a striking gold.
"General, what word do you bring?" Saew inquired, his tone barren though with a tinge of reprimend. For the same man who stood before him had blundered in one of the slight skirmishes in the far east with those who could be considered naught more then crude Barberous beasts.
"Soon our scouts shall have moved over all of Cair Andors, and if there is any opposition we shall know of it. There is little to fear, however, for though our foes may have appeared in tales of yor to have held strength of mind and body now they appear to have withered in both. Had they had mind they would have-"
"To underestimate the foe, General, is to lay bare your neck at their feet. Your insolence is disquiting, if not revolting. Pride hath been the undoing of great legions, it shall not be ours."
"Yes Warmaster."
"We are in the midst of a War, the most glorious of enterprise, yet I hear talk amidst Centurions of the waters of Rhun, of the Dorwinion wines, focus. Concentration. Where have these elements departed to. Hither is whence they should lay." He paused, gazing southward deeper into Ithilien. The great wood gleamed with an emerald hue neath the overhead sun. Then he slightly turned on his heel and beheld the great Legions under his command, red banners with dark serpents or beasts of strange frame. "The legions of peace and those of war." He spoke to himself, brooding over his current position. The cavalcade of sounds about him eased his mind, and slowly he turned towards the General.
"You understand the planned coarse of action, correct."
"Yes Warmaster."
"Excellent, by dusk the appointed land is to be cleared, by dawn of the morrow I wish to see the outline of the complex, by this time on the morrow there is to be walls in place. Failure in this regard is not an option." With that he dismissed the General, who bowed deeply as was the custome of the East laying bare his neck, in effect offering his life if he had dissapointed, and then quickly went forth to comply with the command.

[Talierin]

By noon Talierin had gathered her small force of 375 troops in Emyn Arnen for the short march east to Minas Ithil, where they were to join with her troops there. She sent a messenger ahead to Cirith Ungol, ordering the 750 troops there to meet her in Minas Ithil. She hoped that her small forces would all be together by dusk.

[Elbereth]

*Maedhros is reviewing war plans as a sentry enters*

"General Maedhros, the companies of Belfalas and Anorien are in position sir and ready for your command." Bellowed the sentry.

Looking up from his plans Maedhros nods an approval. "I will be sending the commands to General Narya shortly sergeant...What of the troops from Lebennin? Have they arrived at Minas Ithil?"

"They will be arriving at Minas Ithil an hour before dusk, General Maedhros. We have also received word that the troops from Andrast and Anfalas have arrived in Minas Tirith and are preparing for battle." The sentry replied.

"Very good sergeant. That will be all."

The Sentry saluted the General abruptly and exited the War tent. Maedhros then jotted a quick note on the map in front of him, rolled up the plans, and headed toward the main camp.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

As the warmaster stood in his tent, brooding over scrolls, he saw a shadow move, and thought he could distinguish the outline of a man agains the wanning sunlight.The man, if man it were, seemed to have been listening to him.

[Elbereth]

It was mid afternoon when Maedhros arrived at the main camp located just ten miles north of Osiliath. The sun was strong in the sky, and shined brightly off of the helms of the long lines of Infantrymen that stretched before him. Passing by these troops regal soldiers, Maedhros couldn't help but feel pride to be a part of such a grand army.

"Greetings General Maedhros!" Captain Marcus said with a salute.

"Greetings Captain. Have you received any news from the Scouts?"

"Yes sir, General Maedhros! We have just received word that the enemy forces have moved into the area of Cair Andros. The scouts report that several legions have already entered onto the island and have been clearing the land in and around Cair Andros. "

Maedhros remained silent in thought for several momments, his gaze hardening to anger as he looked upon the lands northward.

*to himself* "The Dark Lord has been allowed to manuever through the fair lands of Gondor far too freely. And all we have done is sit idly by, collecting our men. BUT NO MORE! "

He then turned to the Captain, "Captain, we will delay no longer. Prepare the troops for battle. We shall move out just before dusk sets in. "

"Yes sir, General Maedhros, we shall move out right away." Then with a quick salute, Captain Marcus leaves to prepare the men for their trek northward.

Maedhros then called a messenger to him, gave the boy discreet instructions, and then handed the messenger a parchment scroll. Then quickly saluting the General...the messenger hopped on his grey steed and traveled northward toward the armies of Anorien and Belfalas.

[Elbereth]

The sky is bright pink, reflecting off of the pale marble walls of Minas Ithil as the sun sets into the western horrizon. However in contrast, a threatening dark shadow falls across the mountains to the east, a omen of what may come. Already gathered, the small Ithlien army have set up camp about the city walls awaiting the arrival of the reinforcements.

At the main camp, Talierin is in council with her men when she is interupted by an eager young scout. "Governor Talierin, the forces from Lebennin have arrived, and are awaiting your command." He then hands Talierin a scroll that is sealed with the Gondorian stamp of the White tree.

Nodding an approval she takes the scroll and proceeds to review it with great attention. She then takes the scroll...and throws it into a nearby fire. "Commanders, prepare your men. We move out before nightfall."

She then dismisses the Generals and proceeds to the north end of the camp to greet the newly arrived troops from Lebennnin.

"You made good time General.", Talierin greets the Lebennin General.

"Indeed Governor Talierin. Although we hoped to get here sooner. We have no time to lose." *Talierin nods an approval* "I am confident you will find our men to be the finest cavalry and swordsmen in Gondor. You will have great strength behind you regardless of the numbers."

"I have no doubt General. I trust that your men are ready to move out?" Talierin replied

"Indeed we are Governor. We are merely awaiting your command." The Lebennin General replied earnestly.

"We move out before nightfall."

The General then saluted Talierin and returned to his troops and prepared them for the march ahead.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Their labor, ineffable in scale, their determination, unyielding, their resolve, unfettered. The progress is beyond doubt ahead the time restraints you have endowed unto us. The platforms are being made ready, the two bridges you requested near standing (They may hold not six but seven Oliphaunts abreast). The indicated orders for the banks are hours from completion. This concludes my report. May the dawn shine upon thee.
Saew placed the scroll upon a crate which was, for the moment, holding a map of the surrounding region. About Saew was a great tent, serving as a headquarters for that moment, and within it stood a number of aids as well as one General whom he had requested to describe the cultural conditions of the region.
"What word comes, Warmaster?" spoke the General, in an attempt to strike a conversation he was at ease with.
"Good word."
"Wonderful,” A pause as was often had with the Warmaster. Though he was held as a God by the men who served under him at times those who were in his presence would not worship him as so, but fear him as such. “Yes. Well, as I was saying, those who live about Southern Ithilien-"
"Warmaster Lachadaw Saew, direct correspondence from the Morhir."
The messenger wore but black, and over the area whence lay his heart there was the emblem of a crimson flame with twin emerald serpents arching over it to bind together directly above it. The emblem a new order in the forces of Goroth. Saew nodded absently and awaited the messenger to come before him, but he did not. After a silence which hung in the air with increasing unease an aid went to retrieve the black cylinder which the messenger held. With that the messenger bowed stiffly and left.
“Those Inquisitors, they know no bounds! From the moment those damnable Monks of Darkness or whatsoever they are named came about I knew they would be contemptible, them with their haughty manners. And now these, dark and mysterious are they, more like gaunt fools with haunted expression because of the fact that they know they’re good for nothing.”
“Is that all General, for this is truly enlightening. Perhaps this should be shared with Morhir himself, for it would certainly interest him what opinions are held about his most prized force. You, bring me that cylinder, what are you deaf or dumb, or both in one body!”
The aid to whom Saew had spoken quickly brought the cylinder to him, who grasped it and quickly broke the seal. Then he allowed for the fine parchment to slightly drop. Within moments he had broken the seal which bound it, and began to read with such solemnity that one would have though he was indeed grave within, though within he was astounded. In most cases Lord Gonnilclaur would convey to him command, though only on rare occasions the Dark Lord. However as he continued reading he was visibly becoming forlorn. He quickly placed the parchment again within the cylinder it had arrived within and strode towards an opening within the large tent. His gaze turned towards the south, over the bright Andiun which gleamed with the resonance of the sun’s rays, towards whence he knew Osgiliath to be. He grinned and within thought, "The fowl hath wings, excellent. Though its mind lacking, all the better for the hunt which is second only to the kill." The tent was upon Cair Andros' southern tip, and as he turned he saw to the east all going far beyond what he had envisioned, indeed the task he had appointed for the bank was near complete. He heard a quartermaster roaring, enraged at a blemish within the foods that he had need of use.
“General, have you heard of a General Maedhros?”
“Perchance, the name is familiar Warmaster.”
“Perhaps from tales told to you by your mother.”
A slight laughter moved about the room, though all knew the comment was not intended to humor.
“Nay, not he of tales. The one within service to the infidels, correct?”
“Your intelligence within the field of the affairs of the infidels is inspiring. You are correct, I now know that they are preparing some sort of possible counter-assault. What do you think of this.”
“I have no fear Warmaster, Maedhros has not attained much renown as of yet, and if new to command all the more reason do we have to consider him inept as well as weak within stratagem.”
“Interesting, for now I have learned all which I need, and shall at least understand what not to do within Anfalas.” He allowed a grin to pass over his face, to the relief of the General. Saew remained by the entrance, gazing towards Osgiliath.
“Come, the hunter awaits.”

[Talierin]

An hour later the entire force was ready to move out. Talierin rode at the front, flanked by the Lebbenin General and his commanders, and her own three commanders. The rest of the troops double-marched behind them, in their regiments.

They pulled out of Minas Ithil heading west until they reached the crossroads, then they turned to the north, marching throughout the night until they came a little bit above the path to Henneth Annûn. Then they turned northeast into the woods, slowly spreading into a line as they neared the Anduin. A couple hours before dawn they had reached the last fringes of the forest, and Talierin commanded them to halt, form their attack positions, then rest for the little time they had. Talierin did not, spending the precious time going over their attack plans with her general friend and commanders, all the while silently praying that Mithrandir would get there soon.

At dawn, the force was in place, awaiting the signal...

[¤-Elessar-¤]

A velvety dark voice laughed outside the tent. "I am not the only one who holds no advantige of surprise, Mr. Warmaster. The West has knew of your plan before your first soldier laced up a boot. Those 'infadels' are strong, and intellegent, and more than capable of whiping out an unprepared army of imbaciles like those you have defending this tent." He drew his sword, and pointed over to a patch of bushes, "You might also want to do something to make sure that those spies don't repeat what they've heard." Two men, dressed in earth-toned cloths made a dahing run for it, but they had tried to hard to learn the secrets of the east, and were slain in a hail of arrows. The man smiled to himself as the warmaster finnaly immerged from the tent. "And yes, I am the Hunter"

[Mithrandir]

Tensions rose, as dawn arrived and general Talierin waited for the signal. Sweat grew on her brow, as her husband had still not arrived. She sat staring at the sky, every minute seeming like an hour. Then out of no where, there was a sound, a rumble in the bush.
"Guards see what that is immediately, "but the skilled soldiers were already on the danger leaping into the bushes, swords drawn.

When they returned they had in their hands a hooded man, cloaked completely in white. Talierin knew who it was in an instant.
"Release him immediately, do you not know the great Mithrandir when you see him."
The guards let go of the stranger in a flash, a touch of embarrassment on their faces. "Lady Talierin, "Mithrandir said with a touch of relief," me and my men have traveled for days without food or water, I request a small meal for them if it can be spared, and may I had that you are looking more beautiful than ever." A light seemed to glint in his eyes as he finished his last thought, for it had been too long since the White Wizard had seen his wife.
"I thank you my dear, but what is this of forces, we surely would have seen you had they been with you."
"Indeed you would have, but we are small I number, and have taken extra care as to how we traveled the forest. The enemy must not know I am here if it can be helped, it is not something I believe they planned for, having me here to fight, nor the likes of the legendary Mithril Knights."
With that Mithrandir clapped his hands, and 20 lightly clad men fell from the trees around the general and her groom. Each carried a short, double-edge sword and a small bow and quiver on their back. Their cloaks were like that of Lothlorien, blending in with the background around them.
Talierin never looked so happy on the battlefield, "You have done it again Mithrandir. Guards feed these men something light and give them water, we do not have time for anything else." The Knights and the guard left at the signal.
"Now, my love we shall wait."
"Yes, indeed we shall. I have long feared the bloodshed we will see today, but it is for the right cause, and I have no regrets." He said that with a glint in his eyes, and as the words crossed his lips he squeezed his wives hand and looked up at the sky, praying that the enemy had not caught sight of him....

[Dengen-Goroth]

Warmaster Saew stood, glancing about the sight of the men who lay afore him.
"Infidels, it is a heresy to lay eye upon their blasphemous cadavers. the Inquisition shall come unto their lands, and they shall burn and lay ruin and slaughter these beasts as they should be, as the One should have, and then their lore masters will sing no more, and their ways of life, those of true heretics, shall be purged from the earth."
A movement and words to the side caught his attention, and with the keen eye of a hunter and proud warrior he beheld the man. Saew glanced over him, and in an instant his whip was about his waist, driving him into the earth. Saew flipped within the air, landing so as his knee was upon the man's neck and his other foot placed at the lower end of his spine. A yataghan was held at the ready in the other hand, near to the back of his head.
"Ah, but prey correct. Interesting, of what breed are you creature, to taunt my men who are trained in such arts as the western apes would quiver before. I have little time for errands such as these, though I assume by your raiment you are some sort of rogue, correct. Not held in favor by the Westerners much are we?" He allowed for a cruel laugh to escape from his lips. He pressed his knee against the neck till it was driving against the very head. But the man was not foolish within himself, for in a convulsion he rolled unto his front and flipped into a crouched position. Saew leapt at him, his left arm seizing the man as he was to roll to the side. Now the Yataghan was pressing against his neck.
"You have prowess, most interesting. I do not assail my own, and thus I have become weaker then I was. This sport enlivens me. Now come, either present use for yourself or you shall be purged from this Earth." Quickly, unheard, came a column of twelve guards, who seized the man and bound him tightly, and held him before the Warmaster.
"You amuse me Warmaster, and are quite livid game, though still not much challenge for my prowess. And I assure you, these men who hold me now are nothing, inconsequential you might even say. I have made my way from situations far more...challenging then these. Do not tarry your time with this sort of-"
"Silence, speak your purpose or meet your demise." Saew was quickly handed a blade which he now held before the man, who was now surrounded by an ever increasing amount of guards.

"Morhir, Maetha hath been made ready."
"Most excellent Inquisitor. The orders have been given, and I do hope you have not failed." The tone was lifeless and barren, had death a voice it would have been kindred to that which spoke. neath the cover of night word was spread.

[Talierin]

They conferred with their commanders one last time, then Talierin and Mithrandir slowly snuck up to the very edge of the forest, where from across the Field of Cormallen, once a place of battle, and soon to be another, they could see the island in the Anduin, the construction already beginning to show on it. Before them on the banks of the great river lay half of the Enemy's troops, and the Mumakil.

Talierin gazed on this sight for a minute, half in terror, and half in rage, then squeezed her husband's hand and kissed his cheek. "Let's do this..." she said quietly.

Spreading their free hands out, they called up their magic of earth, blending their strength together. The island and the bank seemed to tremble, and within minutes the earth seemed to break apart as many hundreds and hundreds of growing things thrust their way up and out. They grew faster than seemed possible, and with the strength of the elusive ents, broke through the buildings the Enemy was building, and the camps. As the minutes passed, they spread out great branches, and their trunks spread, becoming trees that seemed to have been there many hundreds of years. Beneath their leafy bows up came huge thorn bushes, some with thorns as long as a man's arm, and needle-sharp.

Chaos broke out amongst the Enemy's troops as they tried to escape the growing things, and seeing this, Talierin cried the hunting call of a hawk, calling her forces to the battle. First the archers came out in a line, 10 men, then a space, then 10 more, all the way down. Talierin gave the cry again, and they began to fire a hail of arrows down on the Enemy, piercing through armour and flesh. Then she whistled another sharp cry, and then the calvary came charging, followed by the infantry, through the gaps between archers. The Mithril Knights each lead groups of 300 infantrymen.

The commanders came up to Talierin and Mithrandir, bringing their horses with them, and as soon as they were upon them, they rode forth into war...

[¤-Elessar-¤]

He bowed his head, and with his yellow teeth he gripped the bounds. In one swift motion he bit a chunk out of the sturdy rope, and it fell to the sides. After spitting out the horsehair, he addressed the warmaster. "My purpose, as you asked, is to slay the armies of the west, and have their leaders die at the tip of my sword." He drew the fell blade, and held it at the ready. "One in particular draws my eye. His name is Elessar." He said the name with great distaste, and his voice sounded like the hissing of a snake. "You are a lucky man, I have chosen to go with your army. You will not fail when my army weilds this blade for your side." The man ran the palm of his hand over the swordblade, and a blackish-silvery blood ran from his hand. He walked over to the fire, and flicked the bood off of his hands and into it. The fire roared with the noise of a dying dragon for an instant, and then it's flames turned black, and the logs were no longer burning. The warmaster suddenly looked from the hypnotysing flames to the surrounding area, and saw that the man was gone, and that there were sindarian runes inscribed the the dirt where he had stood.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Night had drawn upon the great legions of the Dark Lord, their minds at rest for their command had been issued, they knew well what to expect of the dawn. However they were not prepared for the great greenery which thrust itself, as a cancer, over their camps, they at first began to panic, at first till the hail of arrows blossomed in the skies, still streaked with light blues and striking hues of orange and crimson, intertwined in a celestial portrait of the image of the One, glorious in its simplicity, powerful in its scale, unfathomable, unattainable. A great horn pierced the silence, the men began to form and hack at the trees, the thorns, with little concern, and in most cases went uninjured. Soon however the brush, trees, and other that had sprang began to wither and crumble to naught. They formed within ranks, and stood facing the offence. Archers began to unleash volleys of arrows, which were so crafted that upon impact they would combust, in a slight burst which, if the arrow struck well, would inflict mortal wound, in least the burst would make the prey cease movement for a moment, to regain from the shock. It was especially fruitful upon the steeds.

Saew awoke, prior to dawn and moved as a phantom amongst the aids which now rested the others which were entangled with duties. He began to flip, twirl, swing with his great axe, unexpectedly. This all occurred, of course, when he had left the company of other beings, and was alone in a clearing overlooking the south, the enemy. Saew, prior to dawn, would go forth and complete these, what he called, enlightening routines. In such a way he would pay homage to the One, to whom he had sworn his life unwavering. In that pre-dawn he lingered midstep, as he was to bring the axe down vertically, and roll as such. An enchantment cast a veil upon his sight, voices rose in choir from the east. Theirs were words of lament, radiant within its serenity. They wove about certain areas, only discernable by their words, for they were cloaked in a black as infinite and unperceivable as the void. Saew was in awe of these seemingly ethereal beings, weaving about as if the Final Battle was nigh, and the envoys of Him had come unto the lands, to bestow the words which would enlighten the lands, and bring at last the age of peace. Saew issued upon himself a harsh reprimand, “To cease now is to debase Him. I am doing injury on His name when I should pay but Homage.” He returned unto his routine, though by the conclusion he was exhausted, not by it within itself, but by them, their voices bidding peace. He then sat upon the ground, and allowed time for thought, as the first light of dawn struck him. Moments passed in a tiresome march, his mind weaving theories and structures which fell instantaneously after being uplifted, some remaining, others firmly set. Afore him came three men, in the armor of a General and aside him an Overlord.
“Hail Warmaster! We have news for thine eyes only.”
He paused, remaining in peace, that moment where there was but the rapture, the ecstasy of the divine boon of thought which was his most capable bow, his most puissant blade.
“Yes Overlord Thaunsaw, speak.”
The Warmaster and General began to grin, for that was the name given to the Overlord from the moment he had made outlandish claims of finding a brook of sweat nectar within some wood dense with pine trees, within one in fact. In truth it was Aglarebhador, far to long for most to bother the burden of naming.
“You may rest assured we do not have before us the forces of Ereinion, not at this point.”
“Yes, never will we be faced with such a force as he had, perhaps in number, never in honor and strength of mind. Continue.”
“The few from this native land are now afore our lines, and some peculiar man in white had been taken by them. Tidings also come from the south, Lord Morhir hath begun-“
At this moment a great rumble permeated from every pore of the earth, and the very isle and its surroundings began to rupture. From each orifice sprang green claws, grasping for the heavens in determination. Saew remained seated, an increasing grin blooming upon his features as he beheld the shock and then utter fear of the two men before him.
“Come now Overlord Thaunsaw, do you fear these trees which sprout about you. Watch for the thorns, they shall bloom upon the bark soon.”
The overlord turned to the Warmaster, his eyes enlarged, his mouth open, though no word would come forth.
“Yes, I did know of this, though not well admittedly, in fact scantly. Our Lord sent to myself a correspondence, here it is if you wish to view it.” Saew produced the black canister and handed it to the Overlord, in truth the man commanded much respect from both the Warmaster as well as his men, and the Warmaster had naught but utter resolve that this man was as keen in mind, or near to, as the most learned. He simply was a bit strange, what with the mad tales. His eyes seemed only to bugle more, and, his hands racked with shudders, attempted to place the parchment within the cylinder upon completion of overview, however he was unable to.
“Allow my Overlord.”
The general spoke in earnest.
“What are you, we, doing here simply lying about? We must go to the men, they must be in panic!” The overlord began to speak, his voice rising higher with every syllable.
Calm yourself, this is a boon which comes unto us. Now our fire will come from unknown locals, as their own sorcery conceals it. Our mages have seen to that.”
Saew was referring to the procession of the cloaked figures prior to dawn, which had allowed powerful enchantments to allow select regions to be held in peace whilst others were utterly ruined by the strength of the greenery.
“Overlord, would you by any chance have some form of horn?”
“A horn. What in the name of Goroth-“
“Overlord, you know well how I am most devoted to our Lord, and how I find it that if his name is to be used in such a manner it deserves but contempt.”
“Yes, here, here. Take it. Blast those westerners, them with their infernal tricks. “
The remainder of his words died as Saew, who had quickly stood and accepted the horn, sounded a note which could be heard quite a distance, in fact as the Lady Talierin and White Wizard Mithrandir mounted their steeds to proceed to the war, the note rang, and they paused, for to them it was low in tone, and out of place. However their charge continued.
“Now then, unfortunately we have no time for pleasantries for there is quite simply, a battle to direct. I have confidence you will find a way through this, correct Overlord.”
The Overlord turned towards the south and spoke with utter unction, “Why, yes Warmaster. I shall strike those damnable Westerners with fire in my heart, lord, and I assure you none shall live to speak unto the offspring of their children of this day.” He gripped the hilt of his blade, secure in an ornate scabbard, and turned to go in follow of the Warmaster. They quickly wove about the wood, and appeared before the Anduin. About them the wood began to wither about them, the chant of the “Mages” was audible, eerie amide the pantheon of horror which is war. Not so to the Warmaster, he relished it.
“Ah, look there Overlord, how our men have already formed in lines, and are now preparing for the cavalry onslaught. And look there, the archers are in position, and the cavalry is mounted far to the east, excellent. Come, the bridge is far northward, let us exercise our physical matter as well as mental.” With that he dove into the waters and began to seemingly glide through the water. At that moment catapults which had been installed in pits, the same that had been enchanted to restrain damage and had been dug but days earlier, thrust the first projectiles towards the lands before the lines of Saew. The ground quaked neath this first barrage, leaving pits of varying depth, but scarring the approach path of the enemy well, the line of these impacts was becoming broad, and to curve would take time, and possibly cost lives. Lady Talierin became grim, turning towards Mithrandir. Words were not needed. Both paused simultaneously, as though one mind, and within moments more quivering of the earth. The power of the Mages was great, but theirs was greater. Many of the pits housing catapults were brought to ruin, but others, by the utter concentration of numerous mages, were saved. Silence fell on the filed, as they waited for the Ithilien force to draw close. Then the hail of arrows would begin anew.

[Elbereth]

As the Mornclaur federation began their strike against the forces of Ithilien in the East of Cair Andros, from the Southwest appeared a single silver eagle of great majesty and might. From a great distance, it appeared to be but a shining star in the early morning sky. Therefore the first witnesses did not pay it any mind, dismissing it as a celestial illusion and nothing more. However, as it drew closer, none could ignore the enormity and power of such a grand eagle as it approached the battlefield with great speed. Flying high in the firmament above, the majestic Silver Eagle began to fly circles over the Mornclaur army, like a carrion bird over its prey.

Distracted, many of the Dark Lord’s men stopped their fight and looked up at the circling Eagle with curiosity and hate, for they had no great love for Eagles, who had long been an enemy to the forces of the Dark Legion. Such distraction proved fatal, as Talierin’s forces rallied and rained arrows upon the unsuspecting men. In anger, many of the Mornclaur troops, ignored direct orders to fall back in formation…and began to shoot arrows into the sky in a desperate attempt to fall the large silver beast. However, their efforts proved unsuccessful as the eagle circled high in the air and let out a great scream, mocking the enemy forces below.

“Ignore the Winged monster! Get back to your positions” screamed a commander of the Dark Legion.

However, his screams were ignored as the Silver Eagle swooped down at incredible speeds, a hail of Mornclaur arrows trailing behind it. The eagle then positioned itself in front of the rising sun…it’s vast wings stretched out…beams of light radiating from behind its massive form. Then from the heavens a clear voice sang out:

Utulie ‘n äure!
(The Day Has Come!)
Aiya i Eldalie ar Atanatari,
(Behold the people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men)
nai ortane!
(May it be lifted up!!)

The fighting ceased momentarily, as the armies of the East and West gazed up at the brilliance of this winged wonder. Then from the empty fields, surrounding Cair Andros from the south and west, a chorus of voices rang out in response:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel
(O Star Queen Star Kindler)
O menal palan-diriel,
(from firmament afar-gazing,)
Le nallon si di’nguruthos!
(to thee I cry here beneath death horror!)
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!
(O watch over me, Fanuilos!)


The Eagle then fell away from the blinding sun, revealing the radiant white figure of Queen Elbereth Gilthoniel, Star Queen of Valinor and High Queen of Gondor, standing atop the majestic bird. She then stretched out her arms toward the southwest, and as she lowered her arms slowly, a filmy cloud lifted from the seemingly empty fields just below Cair Andros, to reveal the vast armies of Gondor surrounding the Mornclaur forces, General Maedhros’ army to South and General Altaira Telquiare's army from Belefas and Anorien to the West.

Without haste, General Maedhros sprang to action, sending a hail of boulders catapulting into the enemy’s camp, knocking over three Oliphants and killing dozens of unsuspecting enemy soldiers. Those first to fall from this unexpected siege, did not even see their fateful demise coming. From the west, General Altaira Telquiare called out the skilled archers of Anorien. who rained hundreds of arrows upon the western flanks of the enemy, each arrow fatefully landing in enemy flesh.

And as the Gondorian armies continued their siege upon the Dark Lord’s army, Elbereth departed southward atop her majestic silver eagle unnoticed.

[Narya]

For Gondor!!! Shouted the heavily clad army of Belfalas. Heading them was a mighty warrior reknown for her valor, courage, and strength though woman she be. And though she is an equal to any man in her infantry when it comes to agility and power, she can match any elf queen when it comes to beauty, though her heart has been sealed with a memory so bitter it concealed her soul. She is both dark and heartless toward the enemy, yet kind and tender toward her people. She has just been appointed as the new Governor of Dol Amroth. Now she heads Gondor's attack from the west. Down they came like a hurricane on their unsuspecting enemy. They fled from the light in her eyes, though not fast nor far enough, for the edge of her sword caught their bodies as they fled and their dark blood spilled, and if one was cut too lightly and was able to stand or crawl, she goes back to hack it again until the life is out of it's nostrils.

Cair Andros belongs to the west, you fowl worm!!! she cried and slashed the enemy between its eyes before it can cry out for mercy.

As the silver eagle of the Queen sped towards the mountain tops, Altaira Telquiare looked up and renewed strength returned, for her love was for the Queen, like a sister she was to her, dearest of all counselors, she would die for her. She fitted an arrow unto her bow, and upon her command another storm of arrows filled the enemy camp.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Saew looked about the filed of battle as he emerged from the water.
"Interesting, they are greater fools then I would have imagined." He spoke, with a grin spreading over his face. For the entire field southward of Cair Andros was filled with craters from the aforementioned bombardment. The initial assaults made by the forces of Belfalas took many injuries as well as deaths. The initial men who had broken from the onslaught reformed, malicious grins upon their faces.
"For the Dark Lord, for your People! Smite the Infidels!"
With this rally cry the first two lines of infantry charged forth in a wedge formation, driving through and splitting the Belflas force. Catapults, now re-aimed, were bombarding their counterparts, and as the Warmaster had spoken, their rivals could not do the same, for they were covered by the thick wood which even seemingly distorted the initial point of launch. From air it was cloaked as well, by the canopy. The men tied very great ropes about the trees directly about the catapult site, and when it was time to strike they would pull and bend them, many to one tree. Not even the sight of the eagle which had "stirred" the men so could penetrate, for the magery of the Black Robed beings ensured the beast would only behold natural foliage. There was success, as many catapults fell silent as their operators fled in terror, or the machines themselves were ruined.
Saew strode forth, the Overlord slightly behind as he was not as capable a swimmer and had emerged after the Warmaster. At the sight of the two the few men who had been foolhardy to subdue to the magery cast by the beast above their heads reformed quickly, and the lines were more powerful then prior. For wrath over the sorcery of the Western Witch on her flying hag, as it was from then on known, drove them. Archers began a centralized assault, their arrows meeting the enemy from three sides. The foes of Belfalas wavered, having been divided. A horn blew and a century of cavalry charged the eastern section of their forces. great black steeds with armor about them, and mace men atop, fell upon the enemy cheering, "Death to the Heretics, Death to the Blasphemous Swine!" They themselves were armored, and wore masks which instilled fear in the heart of their enemy. Saew strode behind the seventh infantry line, between every infantry line there was a stretched line of archers. The flank to the east consisted of cavalry and hearty axe-wielding men with stout hearts. From Cair Andros' tip, nestled on great branches, lay archers who were unseen, but began to fire on any who were foolhardy enough to come on assault by the banks of the Anduin. Thus they were forced to curve around the land rent apart by the bombardment, else wise they would be within the line of fire from the enemy for ever more period of time. Oliphaunts began to make great sound, which brought fear to the steeds of the enemy, as they were not accustomed to those beasts, unlike the steeds of Mornclaur. Great broadswords glinted in the sun, as two centuries charged within the western division of the Belfalas assault. Great cries of death and agony flew as the wind about that field of battle, for in that region there were more numbers then in the whole of the War of the Ring. Saew moved quickly amide the lines, enhancing the moral of the men, who thus would no longer venture to look towards the heavens if a creature was above least ordered to. Their training, superb and superior to that of the west, was never more evident. When one century would inflict a certain amount of harm they would retreat and another two would move forward. And thus there would be a rotation, they themselves not burdened with the leaguer of consistent assault, however still aiding by guarding the flank of the two assailing. Saew quickly strode towards what was known as “The O Post”. Basically his observation post, which was mounted upon the backs of the elephants. From there he would quickly behold the lines of the enemy, and fathom their assault plan. As he ascended he beheld a glorious rally of the Belfalas force amid one warrior which began to drive through the infantry and cavalry and near the front lines of the Mornclaur defense. However they were halted s the cavalry wound about and struck at the flank and rear of that force driving them forward, and the infantry charged the front of the force. They were thus pitted, and soon broke and ran, many being slaughtered by arrows. However soon Saew realized this was a calculated retreat, that the enemy knew what impression would be made if they would retreat in the fashion, and thus they reformed southward. The lines held well, far beyond expectation, which was high. Saew noted the Gondorian lines, southward and westward by the banks. All went as planned.

Lord Drygo gazed upon the city which lay before him, it was not near empty though once it had been rich with folk from many lands. The triangulare design was indeed captivating, and the great pillar set within the apparent middle of this city was easily visible. An inspiring city, though it had been with the enemy for far to long.
“Commence bombardment!” He yelled, and then numerous trebuchets and catapults began to deliver their devastating barrage upon the city. His men stood at the ready, and soon began to charge towards it, encountering till that point no resistance. A small militia sprang from the outskirts and began to fire arrows, in vain. The men quickly formed amide the light of dawn, which was not needed for great fires burned now within the city and the plumes of smoke were as pillars of warning to any and all who would oppose the Dark Lord. The bombardment only intensified, there was not a moment when ten to fifteen blasts did not herald yet more damage. By mid-day there would be nothing left of the city whatsoever, simply leveled ruins. However Drygo had been instructed to take it with the least amount of damage. Indeed he wished to spare it from great grievance, it would serve Mornclaur well, though by mid-day it's fate would be well known.

[Narya]

Altaira rode on and faced the enemy that had now overwhelmed her forces. But this was to their expectation as was planned earlier by the queen, she went forth and wounded their ranks but as more poured out from the mounds of the enemy, she went back with all speed to the gathered horsemen that were awaiting her command. The archers of Anorien have lessened the onslaught and though they bombared the city with their catapults and their oliphaunts, Altaira Telquaire told her soldiers to hold until it is time, they have managed to break a part of its proud white walls but Gondor will not fall, not today.

The archers have spent their arrows well, for though it was well-planned by the dark Lord himself he was not wholly undeceived. With a battlecry and the sound of horns, Altaira lead her men in another wave of attack against the beliguered enemy, for their came in stealth, hidden by the power of the Queen, and they were unnoticed until they were about 50 yards away. The sounds of the horses made the enemy turn about and the catapults stopped, and the oliphaunts that raged on, were halted for they could not see where the hooves were coming from. Then, like a vision of death the army of Dol Amroth went forward in blazing rage, and their general stuck the banner of the Queen inside the oliphaunt that had managed to cut a crevice in the mighty wall. She struck the large creature and it fell and along with it was crushed some of the enemies horsemen. The onslaught was staggering that even the dark lord from his high seat felt doubt in that hour.

[Eomer Dinmention]

As the Rohirrim army ride through they ride through Linhir and go the crossing at Pelargir where they ride swiftly and faster to the crossings of Erui. They then ride off to Minas Tirith

As the trumpets sound. Guardsmen at Minas Tirith, could see a huge army of around 30 000 troops. Riding and marching onto the fields outside Minas Tirith. They stopped and ate. Regained their strength. And waited for their orders.

Eothain got up and rode off into the inner walls.

"Get my your lady or lord. Tell them that the Rohirrim are here"

[Talierin]

Talierin, astride her steed Talemi, pulled back from the heavy fighting and surveyed their progress. Her forces were smaller in number, given, but not as bad off as their enemy. Still, they were outnumbered 5 to 1, even with the reinforcements from Elbereth and Narya. She wiped the blood that was trickling in her eyes from a shallow cut on her forehead, grimacing.

Mithrandir walked up besides her, his horse long dead. His robe was torn and dirtied, but other than that her husband seemed to be unharmed, besides a little grimy. "Are you alright?" he asked her quietly. "Yes, just weary. But come, listen to my plan..." She spoke quicky, for time was short. As she finished, a smile came on his face, and then he swung onto Talemi behind her. She then kicked the horse into a gallop northwards to the end of the battlefield, where, halting, Mithrandir grasped her hand and they began to work magic again. Soon a thick black cloud appeared and a loud humming in the air was heard in the north. It aproached the battle quickly, and descended onto the enemy. Soon shrieks of pain were heard from them, for the black cloud was millions of small biting insects from The Dead Marshes. Oddly enough, they seemed to only attack the enemy, the forces of Gondor were entirely unaffected, and they picked up hope as their enemies began to drop their weapons and slap ineffectually at the insects biting them, making them easy targets for the Gondorians.

The Enemy's mages tried to ward the insects off, but it was no use. Talierin and Mithrandir had used a magic far stronger than their own corrupted version. The insects would not be commanded by anyone except the pair... even the strongest men of the enemy were being driven mad by the tiny creatures endless bites...

[Dengen-Goroth]

"Magery, magery, magery! That General who told me these fools had honor, they had strength, Lie! These are nothing more then weak apes who resort to magery for they can not overcome strategy! Bring them here!" Saew roared enraged. Soon a great procession of dark cloaked men appeared.
"Stop with your damnable procession! Listen and understand, for this must be done now," His voice was decisive, there would be no contradicting. The cloaked men nodded and turned. Their chant increased in volume ever greater to it overcame all. The land whence the enemy stood buckled and collapsed in on itself, into a great pit. Though now a storm came unto the heads of the enemy, and this was not the work of the cloaked men but the Dark Lord, whose wrath spread over them, and all the enemy succumbed to fear. Their great charge faltered in dismay, and began to collapse anew as great arches of lightning broke the silence of the heavens. A great tongue of lightning struck the forest from which the enemy had come, and it burst into flames. Yet another struck, and within moments an uncontrollable fire spread upon that wood. The enemy was beginning to reform, the courage in their hearts driven now by the lust for revenge upon the enemy. However with the same sorcery as the forces of Dol Amroth had struck against the Saew's force, so did a great cavalry charge of some 6,000 come unbeknownst from two directions and sweeep the enemy backward. Death overcame some, others fell within the pit, or the numerous trenches formed by the bombardment. For the cavalry had been cloaked, and had come from directly by the banks and the other by curving about the line of ruin. This was a massed onslaught, and soon an infantry charge of some 10,000 men came, followed by an Oliphauint century, their hides being impenetrable to any but the most able of assailant, and not many in the enemy were fitting to that description. The rain had in effect disengaged numerous hoards of the insects, and men were regaining arms and reforming the defensive lines. Five Centuries of cavalry made an astounding push, and drove numerous Ithilien foes into the burning wood, whence they were trapped within that inferno. This was the strategy used by many, and many were driven within the gapping maw of doom. The infantry arrived moments later, and horrid combat was wrought, with such fury and malice from both parties that it was indeed a sight. The dark sky, wrathful, bearing down rains to cleanse the earth of the blood shed, the fire illuminating all about, within it the primordial avidity for destruction. Saew called a second charge of cavalry, now 3,000. They drove the enemy to despair, as now met at last with such numbers they had no time for council nor to regain formation. They did battle then with the whole of the enemy cavalry of Ithilien, and that was the most fell of battle which had cursed the land, for their animosity knew no bounds, and it was naught more then butchery. Blood and dirt came to be as one in a union which was an epitaph to the bereavement of life. The great storm made it so that the dirt, once solid, had entered a stage of semi-liquidity. As men were smitten they found burial within that groping abominable lake of dread. However the utter number of the Mornclaur force in comparison to the Gondorian and Ithilien force within that section of the battle made it not possible for them to hold the few scattered position some of them made. Great numbers of them were slaughtered, the infantry aiding for some struck at the steeds themselves, and those would be injured and madly run about into the burning wood, never again to return. The pit into which great numbers of the enemy had fallen was now of the same semi-liquid material, and many were dying from asphyxiation. None would be moved by their pleas, their cries of desperation. Others, employing their brethren as stepping stones, slowly moved out of that abyss of utter ruin. A horn smote the fetid cries of death, marking the cavalries return to the bulk of the Mornclaur force. Some few had gone about after fleeing ithilien forces, or Gondorian, dealing out death and then hurling their corpses into the Andiun. This in Minas Tirith would be known as the flood of the dead, for from those fair walls the bodies were seen moving with the current towards the great sea. The Infantry remained longer then the cavalry, then returned as well. The earth was becoming difficult to move within, their purpose was complete. The remaining forces of Gondor, though great in number, would not venture far for the conditions were atrocious.
"Warmaster, all went better then expected. They have suffered very grave numbers of casualties and deaths, simply you may see, behold how great their numbers have once been, and how they are now!" This was the voice of the Overlord, who had been among the cavalry charge and upon their return had gone to report, though it was not his duty to.
"And our own?"
"We suffered as well my lord, they are tactful when in such a situation, and fought with admirable reseliance. I was, how do you say it, impressed for the lack of a better word. We would have suffered far greater losses, if we had not driven them to despair with the appearance of the storm, the fire, and the pit. Many more are injured, for as we began to the first charge they dispensed a dark hail of arrows which met many a man and beast. However by striking at those divisions near to both flanks we did quite well. Many still remain, though our current location will make it very difficult for them to proceed. I must congratulate the Warmaster upon his ingenious pit idea."
"I knew they would come there, it was not challenging to accomplish. I was surprised they did not know they stood above hollow ground, our men are quite skilled in their craft. All that it took was for those robbed men to use their sorcery to break the supports and expose the pit. Though there was a fault, if you had noted that when the men fell within the upper sides of the wall fell unto them. That was not expected. Prepare the final assault. At times such as these I dwell on the memory of being a mere infantry-man. To strick with strength against your enemy, to smit them. This command allows myself little of those days." Saew's eyes gleamed from the fire of the forests of Ithilien, in his mind made resplendent with the souls of the deceased. The enemy was at last trapped betwixt the wood, the enemy, Mordor, and the Anduin. They had no place to escape to, no hope of reinforcements. A volley of fire from the catapults struck a group who had re-assembled. The battle was near ended, no magery would prevail now. Though he knew well that many cavalry and infantry had fallen needlessly, the infidels had strength in arms and valor, indeed they merrited some respect. Curse them.

Lord Drygo entered the Eastern section of the city on horseback, his legions had secured it, and were near securing the western section. He gazed before him, at the great pillar which had struck his eye earlier, it still rose above all else within that city, the white stone glistened with purity in the noon day sun. As of now none had come to save this the most crucial Naval city within Gondor, and some of its navy vessels had fallen neath the waves moments prior, to the delight of his men, and admittedly himself. The Dark Lord would be pleased.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

The hunter looked down upon himself. He was badly injured, but that did not bother him. The men around him were still shouting. He had been in the lead of the charge of the infantry, and had watched the fear in the eyes of the Gondorian commanders, once tall and proud, as he had seperated their heads from the rest of their bodies. His sword was glowing brightly, stirred to life by the blood of the innocent and good. The runes were awake, and their image was alight on the blade. The few amongst the easterners who could read it whispered the word, and throughout the first wave of infantry the word hunter was chanted as though it gave them extra strength. He was one of the few that had survived that first wave, as it crashed against the dug-in forces of Gondor. By the time the second wave of the Mornclaurian's had come he was glowing with a red light, as blood covered him and stirred to life the seed of Morgoth that rested where his soul should have been. The west was horrified, for it seemed to the educated amongst them that a Balrog of old had awoken. He fought with feirocity unmatched, even by the Mornclaurian general whom he had seen, who was riding on horseback. He laughed at the memory, of such a fine looking man riding in battle, only drawing his commander's sword for effect. He could not remember all of the men he had slain, he only knew that there was a pile of the dead around him, wherever he went. He turned and looked to the men who were sitting and standing around him. He had neglected them until now, but he knew that they must be dealt with. They had procrastinated in filling out their orders, letting the rest of the infantry run to finish off the Gondorians. One fo them stepped foreward. He was a scarred man, who looked as though battle had been a part of his life since his childhood. He smiled a grim smile, and spoke through broken teeth with a bloody mouth. "You are a most exceeding swordsman, Hunter. We are your's to command. Consider us your own fighting force, as long as we are permitted to stay within the bounds of the Mornclaurian army... Will you accept us? Will you take us with you wherever your sword arm may stray?" The hunter laughed on the inside. He liked this laughing thing... perhaps once he had slain his demon he would be able to know what it meant. He turned back to them. "Line yourselves up, and clear a place on your breastplate. He took the helmet of a fallen warrior, and filled it with blood. He dipped the very front of his fist in it, and slammed his fist into the left breast of the man in front of him. The man looked down, to his breastplate, and smiled at the dent that took the form of bloody knuckles. Seventy-three times he bent metal with his fist, and seventy-three men were his to command.

From the field nearby they heard a cry. They found a man there, wounded badly, wearing the colours of Ithilien. The man was moaning for help, and one of the clan of the fist, as they reffered to themselves as, stepped to slit the man's throat. He was haulted by a cry from the hunter. "Let him lie! His meat will still be alive tonight, when the carrion birds come, they will eat him alive before they take the dead meat." The man stopped, and looked down, and then back up at the Hunter. "But, he is but a man, like us. No man deserves such a-" And his words were cut short, for the hunter had pulled an arrow from his torn flesh, and threw it into the man's eye. Seventy-two, he thought to himself...

The men around him looked shocked but hardened their eyes and their hearts when the hunter looked that way. That man would be the only of them to second guess the pure malice of the hunter, and they were his until their deaths, though they did not know it. The hunter shouted that they should move on to where the battle was still, and they came over a small hill, overlooking the still raging battle against the west. The hunter's eyesight was sharp, and below him he could make out the forms of Talerin and Mithrandir, still commanding what little of the western forces that there were.

The hunter raised his sword, and let out a cry that was heard even on the bastions of Annuminas in the north. Mithrandir caught sight of the man, and thought he looked oddly familiar, and the strength and ferocity of the rage that consumed the bloody face did not yet let the west know just what they were up against.

The force on the top of the hill swarmed down into the frey, and they fought in a frenzy that could only have been blessed by the lingering wrath of the ancient evil. Not one of them would fall or fail, and as they fought new men saw the imprint of the fist, and they knew only that they wanted to be a part of it... his ranks were swelling, though they were under the Federation still.

[Eomer Dinmention]

*Back in Rohan, Eomer left with his own troops.
He rode through the Paths of Dead, into Erech.

There he he stayed the night, with his own people.

He then continued down the road to Calembel, to Ethring, then to Linhir. They there rest.


With him rode his 300 Calaviers and Knights.

Back in Minas Tirith, Eothain rode swiftly off back to Rohan taking the same route he had before to get here.

[Dengen-Goroth]

"For the Morhir!"
A horn was sounded, and the charge ensued. Cirith Ungol appeared like to a stern mountain over a sea, as throngs of orcs and dark men charged about it, entering it with ease. Within moments it was secure and they continued westard. Minas ithil was in sight, and great siege weapons opened fire, raining death upon that fair city. The massive assault force had soon burrowed neath the city, and sprang forth unto the streets.
"For the Morhir!"
The cries rang through every heart who opposed them, as they sacked and pillaged the city. Soon it would be theirs entirly.

[Talierin]

A messenger, nearing the point of exhaustion, ran up to the edge of the battlefield, looking desperately for his lady Talierin. Spotting her easily, for she was one of the few still mounted, her steed being of the rohiric lines, he ran bravely through the hail of arrows to her side. He half panted half yelled to her over the roar of the battle, raging on around them. "Lady, Minas Ithil is taken! They came over Cirith Ungol, we could do noth...urgh..." his voice stopped, an arrow piercing his side. She stared at his limp body a minute, tears coming to her eyes, then raised the horn at her side to her lips. Taking a deep breath, she blew a single long, loud note, signalling retreat. An arrow pierced her hand as she lowered it, red blood spilling over her armor, and she screamed, then stopped, fighting back that urge as she wheeled Talemi around and galloped as fast as possible to the edge of the forest.

It took but a minute for her force to gather back to her, for there was only 3,000 out of the original 11,000 left. Holding her hand gingerly, the arrow still in it, Talierin waited till Mithrandir, the five remaining Mithril Knights, and the only commander left had come to her side. Mithrandir expressed concern at her hand, but she waved him off, saying there was more important things at the moment than it.

"My fellow comrades, I have just received word that Minas Ithil has fallen. It's only a matter of time before the Enemy reaches Emyn Arnen, Osgiliath, Minas Tirith. They have already taken Pelargir. Gondor is lost, as far as I am concerned. I say we head forth into Arnor. The Lord Ciryaher is a good friend of mine, and I am sure he will shelter us. What say you, my friends? Shall we abandon Gondor?"

[Mithrandir]

Mithrandor thought seriously for a moment, when the reality of his surroundings hit him. They were defeated. There was no reason for them to stay, unless to die, but today was not their day.

"Talierin, we must leave, there is nothing left for us here."

The lady understood immediately, and with a single nod she ordered all of her troops to retreat.

Mithrandir met up with his five remaining Knights, the leader brought to him a horse that had lost it's master in the battle. As he mounted the stead many emotions shifted through his head. The anguish of so many people close to him, and so many of his own brethren slain. Vengeance reighned through his blood. It was then that he heard the horn of the Hunter high above him. He looked up, and a chill ran through out his whole body. Who was he, so odly familiar, so evil, so...
but it was gone, the man disappeared into the frey. With that he galloped up to Talierin, knights with him, and commenced the retreat with what was left of their army.

[Talierin]

Their force limped down the eastern edge of the Anduin as fast as possible, coming to Osgiliath at dawn. In the east they could see the smoke from Minas Ithil welling up over the green forests of Ithilien. Talierin watched for awhile, bandaged hand resting on her leg, spoke quietly to her country. "Oh Ithilien, my green and leafy home, I leave you in much sadness of heart. I pray that you might fare well, and that I may one day return," then turned her face to the west, where Arnor awaited her.

Gathering all Gondorians and people of Ithilien willing and able to follow, numbering about 600, they crossed to the west side of the great river, passing through the Pelennor southwestwards. Some of the people of the Tower of Guard joined them as they fled, swelling their ranks to 3,800. From there they marched along the feet of the Ered Nimrais down to Edhellond, a march of 5 days. A scout troop of 50 men were sent south to Linhir in the name of Talierin to see whether there was any of the Gondorian Navy left there, and if so, to sail them around the coast to Edhellond, where they were to meet the main force.

By the fifth day, weary, foot sore and heart sore, the force of 4100 marched into Edhellond to see a welcome sight. Some of the Gondorian Navy was still here, about 25 light warships. And by midday, the sight of 15 more ships coming into the harbor greeted them, all that was left of the Linhir Gondorian Navy. On the sixth day, Talierin and Mithrandir and the Gondorians sailed forth with the 40 ships for Arnor, refugees from a country that was soon to be overrun...

[Dengen-Goroth]

Saew breathed slowly, glancing to and fro as the enemy departed.
"They have mind enough. Let them be, do not stay their retreat. We have won this day through much bloodhsed, may it forever be remembered by the East and West as the first of the Last war till the End.We shall soon began the march south, for now there will be little of the great forest before us, as it burns."
He turned now to behold the remnants of the Gondorian force.
"They shall pose little risk, as they are now outnumbered."
Saew then went forth to view the men first hand. The day was won. Cair Andros would not be taken by the enemy, there was no way for them to do so. Their moral was in ruin, their fores now less in strength, and never before had the enemy as they called them been more powerful, for they had taken and won Cair Andros. Soon all was made ready, the island securly fortified. The march south would begin all to soon.

[Elbereth]

At Minas Tirith, Valar and Eothain are busy gathreing their troops together and reorganizing. They had gotten word that Monclaur troops were heading toward Minas Ithil...therefore, they set to work restrategizing.

As mid afternoon approached, and the troops from Minas Tirith were ready to depart, a dark cloud began to form in the east. Elbereth, looked toward the cloud...and became very still...her muscles stiffening as she listened to the wind shift.

"Minas Ithil...it's too late. Hold your troops here!"

Valar looked at his wife, with great concern, not fully understanding what she was saying. Elbereth then looked toward the east...and saw the destruction of what was Minas Ithil.

"Valar hold your troops here...Guard this city...it may be our only hope. I shall go to Minas Ithil...it is destroyed....but it shall not be lost!"

She then called her great eagle to her, and traveled at great speed toward the city of Minas Ithil.

[Elbereth]

High above Minas Ithil, upon her silver eagle, Elbereth watches in despair as the forces of orcs and dark men pilage and destroy the unsuspecting city. A fierce anger wells in the pits of Elbereth's stomach, knowing she had come too late. As her emotions take over, dark storm clouds form above, blocking out the once clear sky. Harsh rains begin to fall upon the burning city, smothering the fires.

Then Elbereth's gaze falls upon the evil dark men of the Mornclaur region...pity and anger fills her. "Those foul ignorant men! How can Illuvatar's second born be so blind! To rally behind such retched fell beast, and smite their fellow man. It is not to be born!!"

Then in a clear, resounding voice Elbereth cries out to the heavens, "O Mandos of the Houses of Dead! Take thee heretics so that they may see the true light of the righteous lord, of Ea!"

Then through the storming clouds, a blinding light fall upon the troops of Mornclaur. A silence rips through the land violently, and the world appears as if it has stopped about the lands of Minas Ithil. Not a soul moves nor makes a sound. Then abruptly the light is taken away and the rain begins to pour upon the earth once more.

No one moves for many momments, still unable to comprehend what happened. However, as reality sets in...they realize a most peculiar thing has happened. Scattered about, in every legion and company of the Mornclaur army, thosands of dark men, the entire lot of them, have fallen to their knees and now look up to the heavens with regret and fear in their eyes. Disgusted by the scene, an orc general commands the men to stand up and take their positions, but the men remain unmoved. The general then grabs one of the men by the arm and attempts to stand him, but when he does the man falls to the ground dead. Angered, the general tries to lift more of the kneeling men to their feet with the same result.

Fear and confusion begin to fill the ranks of orcs ...and a cry is heard among them, "THE CITY IS HEXED! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Chaos begins to fill the ranks of the dark legion's army as the orcs begin to retreat from the city, their commanders yelling after them...but their yells are drowned out as the rain pours down harder and thunder fills the air. Torrential winds begin to sweep through the lands about the city, knocking the orcs to their feet as the flee and lightening strikes down upon several unsuspecting orcs in their escape.

By nightfall, not a single living soldier of the dark legion remain in Minas Ithil.

[Dengen-Goroth]

However they did not go far, for the Morhir was with them, and unlike any he was a Maia. A dark cloud descended over all, and those who had remained steadfast in looked towards the heavens were awakened from there thoughts to the reality of their quest. By dawn the city was fully occupied, and with the end of the fires men were now able to ransack in peace of mind that they would not be caught by fire. A chant greeted the new dawn.

[Narya]

Altaira regrouped her knights at Minas Tirith and upon hearing that Minas Ithil had fallen decided to return to Belfalas for it was near South Ithilien and the enemy might enter it and thus might break into her land. She took leave of the King. Dearly wanting to see the Queen Elbereth again, but so little time was given to her. She mounted on her faithful steed Ximaron and together she called her army of mounted Knights and they returned to Dor-en-Ernil.

She gave complete instructions to the infantry at Belfalas, and 4,000 of her mounted knights remained with her at the front, while the other half went back with all speed into the capitol. She called for the Governor of the Dunadan, and he will arrive at the camp site at the coming of the second day with his archers.

She ordered a large ditch to be dug all around the battlement and placed in them her secret weapon. They will not get in so easily nor will they get out. she thought. Looking into the open sea she saw that the Naval Fleet of her mother's kin have now arrived and they are watching the bay.

Altaira then ordered her men to patrol the entirety of the state until the seige was over. Still Awaiting for the queens' instructions Altaira remained at the camp.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Great cheers rose from Pelargir as the immense Flotilla comprising numerous fleets began to come within view. The great masts seemed to radiate strength, the promise of victory. By mid-day had one stood facing south they would have seen naught but uncountable masts. Soon operations reached their apogy. The time was near. A number of scouts had been dispatched to the Emyn Arnen.

It was growing past dusk, as Pushdug at last fell unto the earth to rest from the saddle, it had been a road he would dare wish unto any.
"Glob!" He heard hissed behind him. He swirled about to view the mutilated features of an orc.
"Greetings Pushdug. You have arrived late. The men from Saew's force came at dawn. What delayed ya." It was spoken more as an order then a question.
"Ya try ridin on a overgrown wolf for the whole day, then we'de see."
"Silence you filthy pig. Búbhosh-ash will be angered by this delay."
"What arr the forces arroung here?"
"Not enought to stop what we're sendin." A vile burst of cackling ensued from those two creatures.

"I ask a question and you hand me a syllogism!"
"Nay Warmaster, that was not my intent whatsoever."
"Of course not. Look there, it has been two days from their retreat and the men are well rested. In fact in higher spirit then I have viewed them from my appointment to this command."
"Yes my lord, I'll answer bluntly. We are ready."
"All that I asked. Thank you, how fare the repairs?"
"All well my lord, all goes well."
Saew glanced towards the battlefield. Fallen men lay about blanketing the earth like to fallen leaves in autumn. Some banners remained, torn, in some cases scorched. The rains had long since passed and under the noon day sun the stench was nearly unbearable to most. However some still went about with malicious delight brining together the enemy's remains, tying them together to form an appalling raft of flesh, and then pushing them into the Anduin which swept them southward. However the stricken forces of Mornclaur were being placed into a well organized mound within the center of Cair Andros. That night, as was custom of many eastern lands, they would be engulfed by flame in an immense funeral pyre. However what would remain, the armaments, would thus be left to remain on the earth till it would be broken and the End would come.
"We move at dawn." Saew spoke in a barren tone.

The host of Morhir arrayed itself before Minas Ithil in glorious columns. Black and red banners furled in the morning wind with grace, and on the ninth hour of the third morning from the Fall of Ithil the great cry went forth amung the ranks.
"Inexpugnable no more! The veil hath fallen, the blade hath risen, the end is nigh!" The great generals rode with stern countanence amide the forces, their black armored steeds themselves seemed to reverberate with the promise of victory. And as it is known, on the twelth hour of that day the note was rung, and as one entity the force began to march. By noon of the fourth day from the Fall of Ithil Osgiliath was in view.

[Narya]

Altaira went straight from Belfalas back to Osgiliath, with her came her mounted knights all 8,000 of them, the bay of Belfalas was swarmed with her naval fleet, and Edhellond's navy has surrounded the entirety of Dor-en-Ernil. With her also went 10,000 dunadain Archers, and the Infantry of Belfalas which was placed under her command by the Queen of Gondor. All in all, Altaira's army that marcher forth toward Osgiliath was 30,000 strong, and 8,000 catapults. All armed, and by the light of the next day, they reached Osgiliath and camped themselves round the area, awaiting the further command from their leaders.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Saew beheld the sight before him, Osgiliath. At last it was before his eyes, the center of Gondor of old. Once it had been the West's very heart, then wars with the dark power brought it to desolation. The Westerners had since rebuilt it to overshadow in glory that which had once been. He halted his steed and turned to face the slight group who had come with him, behind he saw the glint of armor and weaponry, encircled by great clouds of dust they unsettled with their march. Slight wisps of smoke still rose towards the heavens from what remained of Ithilien's wood.
"Have any messege come from the western division on the progress of the Wall?" Saew inquired with a disconcerned tone.
"Nay Warmaster, though I assure you all must go well. The Girdle tightens as the days progress."
"Assure me why it is I should believe what I have no evidence of. Though the Overlord will pay more heavily for any error then you. He believed it to be a viable plan." Saew allowed what could pass for a laught to slip from his mouth. "At the end of this I will go to Dorwinion and drink heartily, but prior to sampling the wines of Tirith, quite reknown, and of course Annuminas." Now a grin conquered his features.
"A far greater land, Arnor is said to be. In size that is." Spoke another of the group.
"They all will fly there, whomsoever remains here. It is their last bastion, or soon shall be." Saew allowed the last word to ring in the air and then urged the steed foward towards the immense force a'fore him, the force of the Morhir. Behind quickly followed the group, one carrying Saew's personal banner, a crimson gold falcon on a blue background. Quickly over slight terrain he entered that great Host. Numerous trebuchets and catapults were being aligned, as one would later describe it, it was like to a great plain of men with behemoth trees of siege weaponry.
It was as Saew crossed the many ranks, who gazed in awe at him, that he witnessed the first sail to the south. A part of the Flotilla was moving northward to aid in the capture of Osgiliath. On the eastern bank parallel to the fleet came a number of Lord Drygo’s forces to reinforce the standing positions about Osgiliath. At the same time others from Drygo’s force were upon Emyn Arnen.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Shouts rang through the air from the flotilla, and for a moment silence enveloped the land. Yet then the great catapults discharged the first volley, and yet this was one of corpses from those fallen in prior conflagrations as well as those of civilians whom were slaughtered during the marches of those three great hosts. Horns sounded all about the forces, and the second volley struck the besieged city, quickly followed by a third and fourth volley. A time of wait was come, and seemingly to many of the men the cries of horror from the inhabitants of Osgiliath populated the skies. Yet then a fear was come unto the heart of man and beast, and day was felled neath the grip of night. For rumor ran through the rank of the coming of the Dark Lord, and it was as such. Far from the east it was heard the great groan of the earth, and neath the dark clouds which hung o’er Minis Tirith, Osgiliath, and the surrounding lands there came bright tongues of crimson, from massive engines of siege devised within the smithies of Mordor, like to those of the fall of Gondolin though it is said that none such would wrack the earth till the End. And indeed it was so, for unto the plains came the Dark Lord, and he was cloaked in the dark of the abyss. A slight force was sent forth to strike through slight breaches within the walls of Osgiliath.

[¤-Elessar-¤]

But there was one group that no one noticed was present, and, amongst the hundreds of thousands of men, they were not entirely missed. Early that morning, before the main attack had commenced, the Hunter had led himself and his followers, now ammounting to somewhere between three and four hundred, to the edge of the camp. There was a wide assortment of men. Many of them simple infantrymen, who, in seeing the skill, and-dare they think it-pure evil, of the hunter, were inspired to sell their helpless souls to the dark being. They each did as they were told. One of the higher ranking officials, still amongst those sworn to the hunter, came to the captain of one of the lesser warships. He spoke for a second, trying to persuade the man that his orders were changed, that the ship was to go further down the river. The man gave a bit of resistance, and the blackling (as many of the men who followed the hunter were afterwards called) back-handed the man, and shouted words that felt of authority, and of impatient anger. The guardsman bowed his head, mumbled an appolagy, and went aboard the ship. The ship had not yet been boarded for the upcomming battle, and was quickly emptied of most men. The three hundred boarded the ship, all of them looking grim, before the plank was raised.

The guardsman's uneasiness was releaved when the ship went off to join the rest of the first fleet. But he did not know what would happen later that day. He did not know how the ship would briskly sail eastward once the battle commenced. How it would easily pass from the eyes of the warmasters and great generals, who's eyes and minds were set to the intricately planned battle. It reached the sea later that day, at a speed to rival that of the swiftest of the ships of Mornclaur, for it seemed that the Hunter was a great sailor, also. Once out of the sight of land, he gave the wheel to an experienced mariner of the blacklings, and went to the flagpole. He quickly lowered the banner of Mornclaur, ripped the center out of it, and tossed it to the sea. He whistled a command, and a man brought forth a hastily wrapped package. He broke the paper surrounding the stiff cloth inside. He then hauled that cloth up the pole, and the banner of a blood-red fist against a black background was proudly displayed, cutting like a bloodly blade through the air.

The hunter laughed to himself. He knew where the ship would land. He knew that his enimies had been asailed already by his northern minions. Although, that northern campaign had failed. His men had been cut off from him, and they had gone off on a rampaige without him, going far beyond the bounds he had set... it was a rather long story, and he didn't wish to relive it. He remembered the destroyed, bloody cities and villages. He knew that that now sparcely-populated place would be abandoned by it's king, in this time of war...

[Dengen-Goroth]

“War, the sport of the Gods.” Spoke Saew as his glance flickered about the battlefield and the city beyond. He rode upon a great white steed, accompanied by his brother who had progressed through many a rank and was now a Grand Admiral, though he had left his flagship to greet his brother that morn.
“Indeed Brother. Long has it been from our own campaign against the raiders of the east.”
“But in scale that can not compare to this, which we view before us. And these westerners are a greater obstacle then those primitive hunters.”
“Speak as you will Brother, though I shall remember that as the apogee of my youth.”
The steed halted, and Saew quickly glanced towards the east. The Dark Lord had come. Saew quickened the pace of his steed, and as did his brother, who rode upon a black steed of similar stature. He quickly came upon what he had desired, a great tent was set upon a hill. This served at that point as the gathering for the high command. Saew dismounted in an instant and strode forth, his brother remaining. Two guards quickly saluted and moved from their position of barring the entrance. Within there was a reserved silence, as aids stood peering at a great map of the near region and of the layout of the city of Osgiliath. They quickly saluted the Warmaster.
“Ease. The hour is nigh and our lord is come unto the battle plain. The Grand Admiral’s armada is barraging the defenders and the plains of the Pellanor. We have discussed the actions necessary. I hope nothing vexes you of this.”
Silence remained as it appeared the light grew dimmer ever still. For a storm was come from Harad. A general from Harad spoke.
“Warmaster, the one question I pose now is when may we return to our forces.”
The Warmaster allowed a brief smile to glance over his features.
“If there is naught else return to your men.”
They did as spoken, and the Warmaster spun upon his heel and exited yet again. Mounting the steed he made westward at a brisk pace, his brother as well. As they went they viewed before them the great banners of Mornclaur flying from the great ships which now bombarded the city as well as the defender’s positions. Overhead flew the first true volley from the trebuchets and catapults, many which were far greater in size then was usually. To the north and south there were born the siege engines. And yet as they rode there was made a divide within the many great lines, to allow them passage, and it appeared then like to the parting of a sea, for indeed there were such great numbers of men and if one would glance to their right or left they would not view an end to them. The slight attack was producing favorable results, as some slight resistance was felt. Upon the twelfth bombardment a slight portion of the outer wall collapsed. Those who pressed the attack retreated. The bombardment intensified, both from the seas and land. Fires now crept throughout the majestic city, and many citadels which had shone with gold, emerald, azure now collapsed upon themselves or were veiled from sight by pillars of smoke. A wind crept from the east. The bombardment continued, till there seven great pillars which rose into the heavens and curved towards Tirith. Saew remained, glancing over the assembled men and exchanging slight remarks with his brother. Soon they exchanged farewells and the brother rode to again board his flagship. The great brooding clouds were now near to the hue of the smoke. It appeared then as though above Saew’s view was the abyss itself. The great glow of the city was growing ever greater, and illuminating all. The white walls of Minas Tirith were tinted with crimson, as were the walls of Gondolin err its fall.

[Narya]

"My lady, we cannot win this battle if the forces of the dark lord were to bombared us with everything that they have got!" Cried the captain of Altaira's army, "Silence!" she cried out, feeling the desperation of the moment and the anxiety of the absence of the Queen of Gondor and the herald of her palace has gone to recall Gramir, and they have not yet arrived. Then a loud cry from one of her soldiers rang atop all the voices, "The ships of Arnor have arrived!" She reeled and saw indeed an armada of the emperor have come to their aid. "He was called by Talierin and Mithrandir, I believe." she said to herself. "We should do what we can to keep the enemy at bay, they must not enter the great City, if it will mean all our lives!"

As the first flank of bombarders enter the perimeter of the garisson of Altaira, she beaconed to her general and the front ranks of Catapults let fly their fireballs and the enemy was in flames. But the enemy replied and soon the battlegrounds were filled with blood and fire. Altaira strained her eyes for Gramir, still no sign of his arrival, and so she made a decision to charge the enemy that has now moved forward, though flank upon flank and rank upon rank of their inumerable forces fell down at the fierce assault from the princess of Dol Amroth, still the dark lord claimed victory it seems over the plains.

Taking her bow and arrow made of mithril, she took off her coat and with the aid of her trusty steed Ohta, she charge on the coming onslaught and struck 3 arrows simultaneously at the attackers. Her men followed her example and soon, the bows of the Eredrim started singing a victorious song in the battleplains and the dark lord and his generals Saew and his brother finally felt doubt in their hearts. But Altaira's forces weren't enough, and they only managed to push back the enemy, more help was needed and time was running out.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Saew glanced at the skirmish force as they were driven back neath the great flame of Osgiliath, which was now fully encompassed in merciless tongues of fire. He spurred his steed and they went forth at a great pace till he found at last the front rank. He went further forward, ever at greater pace, disregarding the need to issue orders. The Dark Lord was undoubtedly commanding as it was. And then the great sound smote him and his steed, and the two halted. For the earth did rumble and it appeared the heavens did balk. A great explosion within the city was followed by another, and then the full strength of the catapults and trebuchets was at last revealed, and there were many beyond count upon those battle plains, and they unleashed a volley as had naught darkened the plains of Arda marred. For indeed it was so, the sky grew dark for an instant as a thick broad line passed o'er Saew's head. Then yet another. A line of mounted archers rode forth to him. Saew glimpsed and saw the tunnel which had been dug neath the plain and into the city, one of the siege weapons. That which would burrow neath the earth, and when come neath target, by some dark art, powders from the east some said, it would explode in a most destructive fashion. And indeed it was so. That had occurred towards the north of the city, and now Osgiliath was no more a city, but a burning brand. Saew brandished his axe and spurred the steed. The slight numbers that remained were bloodied and singed. Saew glanced towards the archers. Some of the pursuers had not abated, and the twang of arrows released was by far miniscule to the immense thuds which emanated from the broken city as well as the whistling sounds permeating from the massive projectiles. Saew dismounted, axe in one hand and whip in other. Arrows struck down many a man, yet others proceeded. The survivors formed about Saew and prepared to push the assault unto them anew. Had Saew glanced toward the massive ranks he would have seen a great column of heavy mounted cavalry galloping towards his position. The bombardment continued. When the first enemy was near Saew sprang into the air and vaulted over the man, yet as he did so his whip sprang to life and caught the man by the torso. When Saew landed he pulled the man towards him and then with a mighty oscillation rented head from body. He pivoted on his right foot to face the oncoming enemy. Behind him the survivors charged as well with a livid ferocity. The archers continued to fire. At last the two sides met and there was fierce combat. Saew moved about that battle with such grace that indeed it may be said battle was an art. For he glanced from blows while delivering them with complete precision. The axe hewed limb and head with no end. The whip would wrap about neck and as the cursed man felt himself moving, yet not of his own accord, he would note a chill sound, like to a crack. Saew did not note the onrush of the mounted cavalry, though they did in fact stem the tide, for had it not been for their arrival the force assembled about Saew initially would have fallen. Two more great explosions erupted like geysers of fire and wrath from the bowels of the city. The group which had drive ever forward was now utterly in ruin. Saew leaned upon his axe, and glanced about him. The dead were strewn over quite a stretch of land, and there also lay steeds form the heavy cavalry. Saew exhaled and then turned to look upon the city. There was now one immense pillar rising and billowing towards the White Mountains. Turning towards the south he saw the ships which had been there had slightly moved, so as to not encounter any flaming debris from the city. Yet they did continue to bombard the Pelinor. Saew began to stride eastward, towards the great host. There would be no passage throw the city, it was in far to great ruin and the flames would not subside for days if not more. Time which would not be granted.

[Narya]

As Altaira weilded her sword hewing rank upon ranks of orcs and unnamed creatures in the service of the Dark Lord, she looked up and saw the great captain of his evil forces, Saew and beside him was a multitude of corpse, from her beloved knights, and some from Gondor. She felt for their untimely demise yet, no tear ran down her fair face for at the sight of slaughter and murder her heart grew only stronger, fiercer and her might, more destructive. The earth rumbled about her and hither and tither there were explosions that at last she and a handful of her men were surrounded by fire and the tongues of which leaped up and sprang into life. "It is a good day to die! Men of Dol Amroth, fear not death, for in dying we bring honor to ourselves and thus gain the praise and love of our fellowmen and elves." Then to herself she whispered, "May Nanno bring me back if only to smite that evil captain and give his body to carrion fowl!!" And in her heart she said a little prayer, asking for deliverance, if only for the lives of her knights whom have served her faithfully.

Then as if in response, a great eagle flew into the air, faster than the wind, it's feathers gleaming in the morning sun like silver. And upon it was the Queen Elbereth, her body now glowing like the sun, and all those who saw her had their hearts gladdened for at the last stretch she emerged and in her anger her full power she used against the enemy of middle earth. With a cry that none could comprehend, the Queen who was now a burning figure, brighter than the sun raised her hand and when her eagle manouvered behold, lighting bolted out from the sky! It hit the catapults and the trebuchets of Saew, and another streak of fire went spewing from her spread hands, and the flanks of orcs, men, and half-breeds, even their evil steeds were burnt to a crisp. Yet her anger was not consumed for she saw the destruction that layed Osgiliath in desolation, and so she stirred once more and the enemy cowered. And the dark force was divided into two, but the group that was burning Osgiliath and borrowing underneath its beloved ground was now charred beyond recognition.

Altaira saw that the Queen had given them a chance to attack the enemy, so she manouvered her horse, whispered into his ear, and turned and made him run faster than the wind, and he jumped the crevice that was dividing her and the enemy and her knights followed soon after.

[Narya]

And as though new hope was filling her heart and soul, she went through the ranks of the enemy like a hot knife on cold butter, and they lay there were she hewed them dead, or dying. And Saew, felt a tremor ran in his army, for the Queen had now pierced the ranks about him and she through another bolt of lightning in their midst, not more than a 20 yards away from Saew, and though some in their blindness fired arrows upon her and her silver eagle, they did nothing to hinder her, for the eagle was now clothed in pure Mithril. The bolt exploded in the middle of Saew's company, and Saew was thrown down from his steed.

And though Altaira and her knights, of whom were the only ones who ventured to follower her in the middle of dreaded colony were few, and very outnumbered still she felt like they were more than enough. For the Queen was with them.

Altaira then sheated her sword and took out her crossbow and arrows of Mithril and they gleamed with fire and she pierced the ranks of the armoured knights of Saew.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Saew roared in rage, "Magery, damn them to the pits of Mordor for eternity!"
Yet the magery of the Queen was instantly answered by the fell sorcery of the Dark Lord, who responded in turn. Knights fell limitless, and the ranks of those who attacked withered and fell neath his otsretched hand. And he did cie forth then to go forth, and they did. Saew pressed forth with such wrath as none had in that age, and he slew countless in slight time, for his rage ever increased. And about him those who viewed him were granted but slight slimmer of that wrath, more then enough to come upon Gondor with such tact and skill that they faltered and fell back slightly with fear. For Saew appeared then as all those from myth, and yet he fought against them. Thus many fled in fear, for the Dark Lord turned his gaze unto the Queen in the skies, and did blanket her magery. And the forces of Gondor lost view of her neath the overbearing clouds. And the Dark Lord charged then himself, and such fear went before him that the enemy balked entirly. Many fled into the fires of Osgiliath.

[Narya]

The menacing dark cloud hovered over the legions and legions of foul beings under the command of the Dark Lord, though high up in the heavens the silver eagle cried aloud and the lightning that was hurled downwards could not pierce the dome of dark cloud that the Dark Lord has placed, but the Queen's rage has heightened to its peak, and with her power to cause halucination she made the armies of evil see through the veil the reality that Osgiliath was still standing and that the fires that bellowed were from the myriads of burning bodies and decaying corpses of their comrades. Saew screamed in defiance, but the Queen would not be daunted for this was her hour and though the King of Gondor raced through the fields of Osgiliath to her aid, she swooped down once more and the armies were once again filled with dread.

Altaira saw the danger in which the Queen is in, and though she knew they can never harm her, daughter of Eru, she charged in the ranks and slew the enemy that came in her way. "A, Elbereth Gilthoniel!" She cried as she weilded her sword with swift ferocity. Like a ray of sunlight piercing through dark storm clouds she sped her steed bolting in the midst of the enemy like lightning! She unsheated her sword, and struck the dark Captain through his sinews, and her sword pierced the armoury in which he was clad!

But Saew was a foe beyond her skill and strength, and as she came near him, his glance pierced through her helm and she felt a stinging pain like a sharp knife cutting through her, but her will to get his attention away from the Queen was stronger than her will to live, and as Elbereth swooped low in fiery anger, Saew caught Altaira by the neck, and he squeezed the life out of her. Altaira struggled but saw the Queen with outstretched hand purging the air through the blanket of shadow that was protecting the enemy and through it she spent her fire and it burnt the enemy from within for the dome would not let the fire out, and as Saew stood there burning, cursing the Queen for her magery, Altaira was thrown down to the ground, gasping for air, he remembered her, and not wanting to retreat with just the agony of defeat, he took his sword and struck it through her, though his blow went wide, for she was able to stagger about, it caught her back and the blade went through her innermost parts. And Saew went back away from the might of the Angered Valier, while the King and his horsemen charged the remnants of the enemy that were not charred. So it was that they saw the princess of Dol Amroth, and all were angered and saddened for they knew she was lifeless.

[Ciryaher]

There was a streak--like a meteor through the dim skies--that shrank and slowed until it was a faint glow near the stricken form of Altaira. A body slowly came into vision, and it soon became apparent that it was indeed the Emperor himself. He strapped his buckler onto his forearm and drew his great axe, Bregoldramb.

The battle seemed to have stopped as the Emperor Penngristion and his radiant aura of white light stood in the midst. Saew glared at him, but made no immediate move while Ciryaher stooped down beside his fallen niece. "Alas, Altaira, brother-daughter! Rest for the while, until you are again strong, and then return to the aid of your people," he said, touching her forehead. Two of the knights of her household quickly lifted her and bore her away from the fray as her uncle looked on.

Turning to the warmaster of Mornclaur, Ciryaher took a step forward. He grinned and made a strange motion with his hands, and then returned to the form of a glow. With a noise like a soft breeze, the light shot into the sky and arced back to the west.

[Dengen-Goroth]

Goroth beheld the work of the Queen and did then raise unto the heavens his hand, which gave forth a fiery glow. And all who had been afflicted with flame were healled, and a great arc of lightning roared about the skies, which now roared with wrath. Magery would not harm the Dark Lord's legions.

[Dengen-Goroth]

The flotilla was now in the guise of an immense bridge, with planks connecting the numerous vessels from one shore of the Anduin to the other. Legion upon legion began to settle upon the western bank. This continued without relative interference as the bombardment harried most all attempts to strike the Mornclaur forces.

[Dengen-Goroth]

The Sun did not rise, for the skies were ebon. The Anduin ran red into the Great Sea, for terrible had been the spilling of blood. Osgiliath lay broken, deprived of all vestments of her former glory. The flames of wrath lingered, encompassing all which they could, engorging the great halls of the West. The fair walls of Tirith shone burgundy. Yet unseen as it was, it had come, the dawn of a new age.

“Warmaster, we are well encamped, and the siege-fare is made ready. Messengers from Emyn Arnen have reported that it is more a fortress of the craft of the east then a work of the earth.”
Lachadaw Saew glanced at the man in approval. He was dark, and his raiment was one of the elite horsemen of Harad, few they were indeed. Though he had made great haste, still did the aureate horse of Harad gleam upon his breastplate; still did his helm retain the resplendent gleam of silver which made it so distinct. The two stood at the last section of a great ramp which decended from a Mornclaur Galleon. The great fleet now had ramps connecting ship to ship, and likewise one bank of the Anduin with the other. Saew, from his vantage point, saw the great mast of that ship as the wind from the west billowed it. A tempest was rising within the Great Sea, and would soon be upon the lands of Gondor. He swayed and looked upon the sand a stride from him. It was amber and crimson, greatly trodden from the weapons of siege, steeds, beasts, and men which had passed o’er it. Yet this was the Western Bank, he had come at last upon it. Saew dismissed the rider from Harad, who sunk to his knee and placed his helm at the feet of Saew, a simple act of ceremony for which Saew held some distaste. Saew gripped the helm and placed it again upon the Harad rider. With that the man stood, bowed once more, and strode unto that sand, that land, the West.
Never before had he been upon that land, ever hither. He reproached himself for this hesitation, for that sand and all west of it was his to take not to fear. With a bound he landed upon it.

The great catapults unleashed their first volley upon Minas Tirith. And so many of them did fire that the resonance from the impact was heard in Minas Ithil with clarity, that it echoed through the valleys and precipices of the White Mountains, and even in the land of the horse-lords of Rohan did the earth lament the agony of Tirith