The first enemy attack came an hour before dawn. Five thousand Orcs were sent over the Glanduin, east of our encampment, while two thousand mounted light armored Southron warrior's were sent directly over the marsh, which is no obstacle for their light weight and small horses. They have the same numbers as we do.
Sauron is obviously telling me that he knows everything about my forces. Despite being called the Deceiver, he really lacks subtlety. Our scouts warned us in time. Our cavalry forces are sent against the Orc. Celeborn leads them. The plan is that he tramples them when they start moving on the plains.
My task is harder, for I have to defend the camp from the riders of the enemy. They do not expect resistance. After crossing the marsh they slowly and silently make a wedge formation. Spread for maximum damage. The only thing visible in the night is our camp-fires. They charge forward screaming their battle cries, eager to spill the blood of their unprepared and sleepy enemies. They are nearly at the tents.
So focused they are that they do not see my pikemen lining up in porcupine formations in front of the encampment. I ordered them to dress in black and paint the blades of their spears with ashes, so light doesn't reflect off their weapons. The horses crash into a wall of spears, their riders not even realising their mistake until it was to late.
The wedge formation they took makes them vulnerable. The Southrons that try to return are forced into the spears by their compatriots coming from behind. It is a massacre. They can not see as well as my elves, and their light armor offer no protection against our blades. Their rearguard tries to flee back across the marsh, but they run right into our hidden bowman. Tarborn has no mercy for them. After a few volleys, the night is quiet again. An entire cavalry force dispatched in one silent strike.
I smile to myself. Attempting to catch a veteran of the battle of Tumhalad off his guard. Preposterous! But I wonder how Celeborn is faring. Around dawn a messenger arrives. My friend moved so swiftly that he managed to catch them while they were crossing the river. The one's that passed to our side were trampled by the horses of his men, and the rest were pushed back. Celeborn sends word that around half of the Orc are dead, and that he will remain at the river bank to spy on the enemy's movements. The first encounter went well for us. But this is only a test of our strength. When he hits next, it will be to destroy. But we are safe for some more time. Orcs canot move during the day.
A shame the same can not be said for the heavy Easterling cavalry. While I rode to meet with Celeborn, my men noticed that he was engaged in a bloody battle. Our elven riders used their speed and agility to move beyond the range of the spears of their enemies. The Easterlings are using a tight formation. Almost like a mounted phalanx formation. Where elves have fallen, they lie alone, having been caught and cut down by cruel scimitars. Where the men lie, they lie in groups which we managed to isolate and destroy. The fiercest battle rages at the gaps. Cavalryman move and circle each other on the shallow sand, careful not to fall into the water.
Among the elves, I see the crescent moon of Thingol on the tallest banner. My friend lives yet ! At once I order my man to push to the gap. A battalion of Moredain has seen us and they move to trample us. At once my men raise their spears in a compact formation. The Easterlings run away seeking easier prey. We are left to move freely, and I order my battalion to charge into the flank of the enemy formation. When the Easterlings switch directions to counter this new threat, Celeborn charges them from the front. Assailed by elves from both sides, they flee back over the gaps. But before we can exchange greetings, they return in much greater numbers. We have to act quickly. The infantrymen of my guard take the most heavy parts of their armor off and move into deeper water. Some died by arrows, but most pulled through. Celeborn and I quickly move with our surviving cavalry, and retreat to the north. We do not want this armored menace to follow us to our camp. A group of them breaks away from the main body and cuts off our way to our encampment anyway. So, it was a trap all along. Put enough pressure, wait for me to come, then deploy forces to capture me. I berate myself for my foolishness. Never again shall I underestimate Sauron.
We can only outrun them slightly, but against such a force there is little we can do in combat. Our horses are tired, while theirs are fresh. Soon they will catch us. My men prepare for a last stand around our banners. And in this hopeless hour, a new army moves to the field. The sun is glinting off their polished armor and their countless spears and axes.
A battle cry breaks through the chaos of the battlefield:
" Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"
The Dwarves are here. Durin has come to our aid! I see a nasty grimace forming on Celeborn's face. From this day forward he will owe his life to a dwarf. Our tired cavalry moves behind the protection of the dwarf spears. The Easterlings decided to charge them. But this is no mob or ordinary army they are charging. These are dwarves. And they charge back. I can only watch with my mouth open as a dwarven warrior shrugs off the charge of a fully-sized war horse and moves in to finish his rider off with a quick stroke of his axe. In mere minutes, all of the Easterlings are dead, except the ones that ran away.
" Catching flies, lad?" A deep voice comes from behind me. I turn to face Durin himself. Not giving a damn for proper etiquette I hug him and grip his hand in a warrior handclasp.
" You saved the day, my friend!" I shout unable to contain my excitement.
" It is the least we can do for a stout friend of Narvi and all of the dwarves." he tells me in a voice that sounds like the earth itself is speaking. " It was our honor."
We take council while my man are resting. The surviving Easterlings fled, and their horses are given to my warriors who lost their mounts in battle. They really are beautiful animals. I pick a black stallion for myself, for my horse started limping. I tended to it and it will heal in time, but I need a horse. The dwarven army moves with us to the gaps of Glanduin. Durin will protect them while we return to our camp. The night has fallen. The riders that I sent to check the situation at the camp return with news of an attack there. But they can say nothing specific. I order my soldiers to move at once. We ran into my soaking wet guard on the way back. They are quickly given horses, and move with us. We ride hard, but maybe we are to late already. Smoke rises in the distance...