Two days went by without incident. Tugratz's men were getting edgy, eager to fight. The surprise attack had whetted their appetites but they craved more. He felt the urge too, but the Master had given strict orders. Take the bridge and hold until reinforcements arrived.

Immediately following the action Tugratz had his orcs form a barricade around the guard tower. They scrounged around for rubble and timber to construct a cordon. It took most of the first day to erect the wall. Once they were done however, Tugratz was proud. The wall was thirty feet long and three feet high at the lowest point.

Their rations were running low. Several hunting parties had been sent out over the past couple days. None returned. Something bad was about to happen but Tugratz did not know what. His orcs felt it too. The camp was eerily quiet and fidgety. Not even Flirsgar was looking for a fight.

Tugratz climbed unsteadily up to the top of the guard tower and scanned the surrounding area. It was still too dark to see far. The woods just a mile away swayed ominously in the sharp breeze. Everything indicated danger. He decided to stay on watch and sent down the other orc.

About an hour later Flirsgar scaled the ladder and took a position by Tugratz. Neither acknowledged the other. Mutual respect bonded them, but Tugratz knew better than to push his luck with an uruk. They got nasty when pushed. For now he was content to humor the younger beast. After all, he was exceptionally cunning and strong for an uruk his size.

"They are gathering in the trees." Flirsgar spoke with little emotion. The thought of the coming battle was foremost on his mind. "I can smell them. They are fearful."

Tugratz could not sense them himself, but took Flirsgar for his word. He had a knack for sensing enemies before others. When he thought someone was there they usually were.

"Shall I deploy your orcs?" His tone was slightly condescending as he addressed his orc-leader. Rebellion flickered in his eyes as he struggled to ask for permission.

"Not yet. I want them to think we don't know they are there. Let them come closer. You can deploy whenever you want once they leave the trees. I don't want them getting away."

Flirsgar paused. Tugratz could tell he was reviewing the plan. A good idea; Bad plans could get them all killed. Together they turned from the woods and hopped on the ladders.

Flirsgar and Tugratz had just reached the ground when a throng of men dashed out from the cover of the trees, shouting their war-cries. The number of men surprised Tugratz. This was clearly no relief garrison. This had to be a full battalion. They were doomed.

Flirsgar leapt into action. He drew his two-handed sword and roused the orcs, slapping left and right with the flat of his blade. The orcs quickly rose and scrambled for cover behind the hastily erected barricades. There were only a dozen orcs on this side of the bridge, give or take a few. Looking back across the river, Tugratz could see the dust trails of incoming orc columns. They were so far away.

An arrow skipped past his head and embedded itself in the thick timber frame of the barricade. His mind snapped back to the present situation and he looked for the two archers still with him. They had positioned themselves on top of the tower along with one of the orc scouts. They eyed the advancing host nervously and watched Tugratz.

"Fire."

Two arrows shot from their strings and found targets in the throng of men. One of the forerunners fell heavily and did not rise. The archers fired again, taking down two more. It was not enough.

The two forces met with a resounding crash of steel on steel. Tugratz and Flirsgar led the orcs forward and hit the men's charge dead on. An arrow slipped through the melee and pierced Tugratz's shield, scraping his hand. He contemptuously snapped the arrow off at the head and threw the shaft back.

Flirsgar ducked under a spear blade and swung his two-handed sword in a mighty arc. The blade crushed the helm of one man and embedded itself deep in a second man's breastplate. Blood spurted out in a stream and blinded the uruk as he wrenched the blade free. Two orcs fell beside him as they were overpowered by five men. Glancing over his shoulder, Tugratz caught a glimpse of the scout's corpse at the bottom of the tower. The archers were frantically shooting down man after man as a clump fought their way up the tower.

The main body of men crashed into the melee. Flirsgar ran a captain through with his two-hander before succumbing to a flood of white blades. His last battle cry sent a chill down Tugratz's spine. He gradually gave ground to the press of men as they pushed him back. On either side orc after orc fell to the hungry blades of the Gondorian soldiers. At last he was the last one standing. His back bumped against the barricade they had erected and he felt a measure of comfort. With his back protected he challenged the men to advance, crying out with all his might. Three men rushed forward to meet his challenge. His sword sliced through the armor of the first and he fell backwards grasping his innards. The blow continued on and caught on the neck-guard of the second man. The man stumbled into the path of the other and Tugratz pounced. His skinning dagger slid easily into his hand and he plunged it deep into the man's unprotected neck. The man let out a grunt and fell heavily. His move carried him too far forward, however, and he found himself beset with swords on all sides. Angry blades darted in from all sides and Tugratz felt pain lance up and down his body from a dozen places. Then his leg exploded with pain and the world went black.