In the meanwhile did the Valar defeat the second gods together with the united host of Elves.
But as they looked back towards our world, they discovered,
that Man and the lands were at war with one another.
Many in the name of Melkor, others in the name of the Valar.
That saddened them greatly,
for they knew now that the time of peace had come to an complete
end for our world.
So great was their pain that they sought to turn away and retreat.
Melkor saw how his siblings were fleeing and he laughed loudly about his victory.
But Ilúvatar, the One,
granted the Lords of the West new powers, so they stood in a last war of wrath
against their brother.
Before Melkor could have acted, he saw that most of his followers and gruesome
abominations had been vanquished. Now it was the burned god who sought flight.
The Valar chased after him,
fought with him and tore him apart into small pieces that were thrown into
the void. His glowing eyes were set behind the wall of night and unseen behind
the star-light of Varda they would remain for all times upon the firmament.
- War of the Gods, Chapter 2
Ered Luin, Rath Teraig, Early Spring in the Late Third Age
Three weeks had passed since the agreement between Hirgonui Curugirion and Lord Asudrom of the Dwarves. Together they had forged an alliance between the two so different people.
The reason for doing so had been revealed to be the marauding hordes of Goblins, enforced through a strong Dourhand presence from Rath Teraig out. The Mithdirith and the Orc-kind of these lands had been in war with one another all too often already, but as many times the Elves had held the Goblins back, it would not take long, ere they would begin to crawl out of their caves again.
But this time it was different. There was talk of a massive force that had poured down the hill, reinforced through trolls of Sarnûr that with their strength could crush easily a dozen soldiers at once. The Elves and Dwarves had to answer this threat together, would they not wish to risk that both their lands would come to fall beneath these threats. Since one week, the two folks were mustering now at Gondamon, a fortress set before the entrance to Rath Teraig, overlooking the plains and hills of the Low Lands. Though even this fortress would not hold on itself.
Two days ago there had been an incident causing a great stir in the encampment of the Elves. Loud anger and fiery exchange of words had sounded from the tent of the Hirgonui and an exceptionally offended Aearandir of Thamas Lorn stormed out just shortly after.
One hour later did he leave the encampment with good fifty Knight-Wardens in their magnificent, blinking armors and three-hundred more squires and armed retinue, much to the joy of the Goblins on the other side of the plains who were welcoming the pullout loudly.
Following rumors, one of the Dwarves must have tried to give orders to the proud Elven-lord for the upcoming battle which he had strictly rejected. After it had not come to an mutual agreement, the host of Elves and Dwarves seemingly lost this vital part of their force. Adequate dismay came after almost instantly, and it had required the entire skill of words of Cirionar of the Circle who had gone with the troops, to hold the two people together.
And another rumor had begun to make its round. In the shine of the campfires and the candles, a tale came up one night, that a second group of Dourhands would sail down the river Lhûn to enforce the army at Rath Teraig.
The remaining Conin let instantly pidgeons fly to the settlements near-by, asking for their safety, of whether they had seen anything that would indicate a second army on the way. But they had received no answer yet.
After almost two weeks came the time of decision. At a misty morning, the sun penetrated hardly the haze, that had been summoned above the grass, the Goblins, Dwarves and Trolls began with their battle formation.
The first line was made from infantry and archery blocks that had literally barricaded the narrow entrance into the ravines of Rath Teraig, a little bit set off to each side awaited the trolls, behind which the rest of the host had gathered.
»That looks quite interesting«, Istuir commented the movements of the enemy. He was clad in a heavy armor, that still left him free to move about by foot. The large shield strapped to his left and the spear in his right, the lord appeared ready for battle. »I have seldom seen them so well ordered and disciplined for Goblins.« He turned around to look at Hwethlenn. »What would be your suggestion?«
The young elven squire had been equipped with a chain mail and armor of leather above to protect her in the upcoming battle. As mentee of a knight, she had not yet earned the right to join the fight on horseback. Hence she had been integrated into Istuir's infantry banner. »I would position our cavalry to our flanks, so that they can hold the trolls at bay and if needed share their power with our main body«, she explained her thoughts at the sight of the army ahead. »And the Dwarves and our people could take care of their infantry.«
»Then you would have countered with exactly the same formation. But that is not the aim, Hwethlenn«, Istuir replied. »We would need an advantage over them. In numbers we are fewer.«
Quietly the two observed how the Dwarves took in their formation. They had brought no horses, their folk is one that fought best on the ground. They also missed a block of archers. Only a few bow-carrying soldiers had arrived. The rest and hence the majority wore the heaviest armor they could have probably found. Aside from massive shields that were almost as large as themselves, they carried hatches and short swords. From afar, Hwethlenn could see the figure of Asudrom leading them.
She shifted her gaze back to her lord, who stood with his back to her, looking over to the archers of the Mithdirith that had also begun to move. Hwethlenn and Istuir just waited now for their own signal.
»Do you worry about Lady Hallothel?«, the squire asked.
Istuir appeared to straighten his posture, but he did not speak a word to reply to her. That was enough an answer for Hwethlenn, however.
Her lord was a strict one, but from time to time he turned out to be a hearty friend, forgetting the differences of ranks within the herth. In one of these moments, he had told her of a lovely maiden called Hallothel. She was an archer of great skill.
Of course, he worries for her, Hwethlenn thought, I would worry myself if friends and loved were at risk. Suddenly she frowned. The was no if and no maybe. It was certain that many of the Mithdirith and the Dwarves of Durin's folk would not return from this battlefield. Hwethlenn gulped heavily as the realization hit her that this fate could just as well be her own.
Istuir was at her side, slapped his armored hand on her shoulder. He checked once more every buckle of her armor. »Remember to stay close with me. And no matter what it will sound, you will follow my orders, understood?«
Hwethlenn would have almost given in under his friendly meant strike. Her knees felt weak, like they were made from slowly melting sugar. Her heart was pounding in her chest that she had difficulties to her what Istuir said.
»Understood, Hwethlenn?«
»Yes, milord!«, she finally answered him. As his squire it was her task to carry his banner into battle and to support his efforts in every way.
»Good. Then follow me. The time is upon us.« With these words Istuir let a horn sound and his banner of good fifty Elves began to move. With wide steps they marched into direction plains where they would face the Goblins.
The plan was, to strike a rift into their army, through which the Elves and Dwarves could pass. Like a loop they intended to force the enemy out of the vale and rob them of their advantage of their narrow entrance to Rath Teraig, into which they could retreat any time.
Another knight came up to Hwethlenn, whom she knew as Faelach. He whispered to her that he would watch for her back, but even such re-assurance could not manage to dispel Hwethlenn's worries.
The form of the Hirgonui Curugirion appeared in front of the assembled host of the Mithdirith, while Asudrom seemed to speak to his Dwarves.
»You fight not for me, Elves of the Flower«, the grand master called. »You fight not for your Hirgonui, not for any master of this land. When we soon march into combat, we will do so allied and watchful for one another. Always remember: We fight the Goblins and Dourhands, because they attacked us. They threaten us and burned down the settlements of Dwarf and Elf alike! So it will continue if we will not be victorious today!« He stood up in the stirrups of his saddle. »We will send them back into the darkness from which they came. Let us show them that we are not to be trifled with! We defeat the enemy and earn our freedom! The Lords of the West are on our side!«
The Elves cheered to their leader, while a quiet buzzing was the harbinger to the first volley of arrows. A few of the herth fell to the ground but most of the army had risen their shield above them in time to deflect the deadly tips. The Hirgonui rode back to his position.
The own archers answered the fire and so the two armies exchanged a long enduring battle of taking turns of shooting volleys at one another, until the impatient officers of the Dwarves finally moved their leaders to give the order to attack the enemy infantry.
A shield wall of the sturdy folk advanced. A formation they called the Dragon. Shields in front and above their heads, they formed an impenetrable protection, like the scales of the once so terrible Úroloki. Wardens of the Mithdirith were protecting the flanks of their allies.
Shortly before they reached their foe, the Goblins and Dourhands evaded to the right and left, through the gap rushed a number of Trolls upon the Elves and Dwarves. At the signal of a horn, also the two troll units to each side of the enemy's host began to move and went to undertake assaults against the flanks of the soldiers of Curugirion and Asudrom. Their formation was broken and in the face of the tremendous power of the trolls, they threatened to disperse into all winds.
So was the elvish cavalry forced to rush to the aid of the infantry and the archers, instead of passing through behind the main body of the foe as it had been intended.
On the other side of the battlefield, the Dragon and the Wardens stood on lost ground, for now also the Goblins had arrived and threatened to surround them.
Istuir and Hwethlenn fought side by side and send so some Dourhand and Goblin to the ground. The fright that the young squire had experienced to the beginning had faded and all that remained was the movements that Istuir had taught her, the weapon of her foe in her vision. She blocked with her shield, retaliated with the sword that her father had made a gift to her. Next to Istuir's spear, Hwethlenn's weapon described an silver arc and together they brought devastation upon whoever they met.
The bodies of horses were pressed together in the mass, the clashing of blades was ear-deafening loud, in between echoed angered calls or the screams of pain of those who were wounded.
With the bravery awoken from desperation did the banner of the Wardens and the Dwarves hold their ground, the Goblins and Trolls attacked with the fury of the near growing victory ever again. Friend and foe were mixed, fallen ones were buried beneath the metal-clad hooves, projectiles whistled through the air and hit random targets.
Hwethlenn saw how a knight on his horse was aiming a strike at an Orc, as he straightened up with a groan, there the next arrow hit him right below the first. Also a third shot sat, the Elf-Knight was sliding from his saddle and disappeared beneath the mass of enemies.
»We should turn to the north and help the Dwarves and Wardens«, Istuir called towards her. »Otherwise we will loose even the rest of them!«
The lord gave order to signal Curugirion what he planned and another order sounded through the battle, that the herth would form its body a new, until it had become complete and could loose itself from the flailing enemy. Istuir ordered a part of his banner to stay back to protect their archers, then they hurried to the other side of the battle-field, to come to the aid of the Dwarves and the remaining Elves.
The lines there had become menacing light, only the half of the set out warriors stood still and was by now completely surrounded.
Something dazzling blinded Hwethlenn briefly on the way to the second field of battle, as if someone would have thrown the shine of the light into her eyes. Protective she held the hand before herself, to look through the small gap of her fingers, what was shining there so brightly.
Above all the clamor she thought to hear something like a horn, then the ground seemed to shake.
»There comes our rescue!«, Istuir pointed to the south. Also the Goblins had partly become aware and turned towards the new danger.
A living wall of blinking steel was milling down the plains, heavily armored knights and bodies of horses rolled in a line towards the coverless flank of the enemy's infantry. Behind that stood a second line of riders, that however had not begun to move yet. Hwethlenn estimated that one phalanx was holding well a hundred knights and squires.
»That is Seneschal Aearandir and his knights!«, the young Elf called loudly and felt how her strength had suddenly doubled. »Now there will be a bloody morning for our foes!«
The first waves of the knights of the Mithdirith broke with lowered lances into the throng of the Goblins. The effect of the impact was terrifying and fascinating at the same time. The pressure and force of the charge traveled forth to the back and pressed those that had not been impaled by the spear-tips together like small puppets. The crude metal and leather armors could not withstand.
Then the knights went with their long swords into melee and beat from the backs of their horses upon the terrified enemies.
Another horn-signal sounded up and the second phalanx rolled in an attack, that mowed down the infantry on another spot with the same success as the first assault. The Goblins, Dourhands and even the Trolls had nothing to oppose the armored warriors, too great was still the shock over the sudden assault. With the third signal, the armed squires of the Mithdirith ran roaring into battle to support their lords.
The discipline and precision with which these warriors were erasing unstoppable line for line, was too much for the enemy. The Goblins ordered the quick retreat, especially now that also the rest of the Dwarves was at them and entered the fray. The victory of the day was hence decided for Asudrom and Curugirion, who were loudly celebrated by their soldiers.
The last remains of the Goblins drew back into Rath Teraig, while the knights of Aearandir were covering the ordered retreat, should the enemy yet dare a sudden lunge.
The seneschal, from head to toe wrapped into a now battered, blood splattered armor and only recognizable by his banner, rode by.
»Outdated, too cumbersome and little of use, yes?«, he called already from afar and repeated hence the assessment that the dwarven officers had uttered. »It seems like some were quite mistaken?«
»I am glad that you yet decided to return, friend Aearandir«, Istuir greeted him smiling. »Without your support, the enemy might have won this day.«
»Forgive me my comedy, that we had to play before you. But so the surprise was greater for our foe.« The knight opened the visor of his helmet, his sweat-covered face was now to be seen. The fire of battle was still burning in his eyes.
»Comedy?« Hwethlenn sheathed her sword. Her arm was aching from the constant parrying and striking. Much longer she would not have endured. »What do you mean with that?«
»The Hirgonui, Asudrom and I have arranged that the knights seemingly part from the main-host in spite«, Aearandir explained. »The goblins should not expect that we would interfere into the battle. With even our own soldiers believing that, they would not sense any danger for themselves and be drawn to bold maneuvers.«
»A good feint«, Istuir praised his brother in arms.
»Still the victory had been costly«, Aearandir pointed with a nod of his head towards the plains.
On the once green grass lay the dead next to one another. Wounded ones groaned and wailed, hurt horses neighed agonizingly or tried to get up despite their injuries. The first crows came flying by already and hopped along between the fallen, to save themselves a piece of the corpses.
Dread engulfed Hwethlenn's heart as she saw the many, often mutilated dead bodies. Dwarves and Elves had fallen in great number this day. The rage of the trolls had been devastating.
»We will need to carry the dead off the field«, Istuir said. The sight that this land had long been spared with, seemed to mesmerize everyone of them and effected them with a saddened horror.
Tonight and the coming day they would rest. But Hwethlenn knew that this was just the victory for one day. They would have to advance not too late into Rath Teraig and grant the Goblins time to recuperate. Otherwise their resistance would cost them again dearly many lives.
