In An Age Before – Part 191
Chapter One Hundred twenty-five
Annúminas – The Third Age of the Sun
On that same night, in the north that the wolves now disdained, the Witch King drove his host onward towards Lindon. 'Twas the second night of their campaign. As on the previous night, their march was inaugurated by the rising of the Tor. The lumbering creatures hauled themselves out of the earth and straightaway gathered 'round the ram with single-minded purpose in preparation to continue their labor of pushing it forward. Fearful of accidentally being crushed, Yrch and Men leapt to their feet and scattered out of their way. Tindomul, of course, had been careful to order the weapon parked in the center of the camp.
The combined host formed up in separate companies with those from Carn Dûm ahead of the ram, and those from Gondmar behind. Within those companies, each race kept to their own, for stragglers seldom caught up. Yrch, Hillmen, and Easterlings, new host and old, all had brought their foes with them, and each kindred was eager to victimize the others. The march was contentious, whilst on the flanks some fell, shot by the arrows of unseen archers in a ceaseless culling.
Now on the first night of their march, the Nazgûl's host had made but three leagues, for they were repeatedly required to free the ram when it became mired on the backcountry roads. On the second night of their march, the roads were no better and they suffered the same trials. The ram sank as deeply as possible into any patch of mud available. Then Tor, Men, and Yrch heaved and hauled, and taxed their strength for to advance it 'til it bogged down again. Well 'nigh every length of rope in the host had been affixed to the ram's carriage so that long lines of soldiers could haul on them. At the fore of the column, the wraith welcomed their tribulations, for if 'naught else, it forced them to work together. Their groans, gasps, cries, and curses were as music to his ears, for they told of suffering. Had he still a mouth, he would have chuckled.
Ere the dawn of the 22nd when the Tor again buried themselves to avoid sunlight, the host had traveled just o'er another three leagues. They were still a night from reaching the Baranduin. The exhausted soldiers cast themselves down to rest, disheveled, depressed, and tinged with the green of despair. Thirteen Yrch and Men had been crushed 'neath the ram's wheels, another six trod on by the Tor, and seventy-one shot by the Laiquendi. At least they ate well that day with ninety corpses to dispose of.
Whilst the Host of the Witch King struggled to make headway 'cross country, the allies had no such difficulties. Following their unexpected meeting with Mórfin Laiquende on the night of the 21st, the hosts of Gondor, Arthedain, Rhovanion, and Lindon had decided their strategy for prosecuting the campaign. An hour past dawn on 22 Gwirith, thirty-six thousand five hundred cavalry, with their squires, grooms, and other support personnel, rode due north. 'Neath the guidance of the same Knight Commander who had ushered the people of Fornost to Mithlond, the combined host of riders entered the Emyn Uial two hours ere noon. There they vanished from any prying eyes in the flatlands north of Sûza, and on woodland trails forgotten by most, made their way first north and then east 'til 'round noon they saw the long shores of Lake Evendim. There they struck an ancient road, its verges unkempt after many centuries of neglect, yet it ran straight and well paved still. It bore them east whilst slowly curving north. The Hills of Twilight had risen increasingly taller and more steeply the closer they had come to the lake, and the road, in places elevated where it crossed ravines and streambeds, was the only comfortable passage for wains and riders, or massed companies.
"Whence leads this road?" Prince Arne asked as they ordered their companies. He eyed the o'ergrown riding tracks along the north and south sides. "Though 'tis long abandoned, I deem it as broad and level as the road from Anórien to Minas Anor."
"'Twas of old the king's road from the quays that lay at the upper landing of the Fennas Annún, the grand canal that raised and lowered ships from the Lhûn to Nenuial. Traffic of merchants, citizens, and soldiers used this road 'twixt the town of the same name and Elendil's ancient capital," said Hírochon¹, the Knight Commander of Arthedain. ¹(Hírochon, Lord Knight = hír(lord) + rochon(rider, knight) Sindarin)
"So then this road leads to Annúminas?" Eärnur asked.
"Aye, my lord," the knight said, "some ten leagues hence."
After two thousand years, what could remain of Elendil's city? Prince Eärnur wondered. We saw the ruins of Lond Daer as we sailed hither. I wager 'naught but broken foundations and tumbled walls mark the site of Annúminas in these latter days.
The cavalry rode four hours and came some sixteen miles. They were then but twelve miles from the outlying districts and fourteen miles from the city proper. There the vanguard halted and beheld the four-league gate, once a roadhouse for travelers, and the outermost post of the City Guard of Annúminas on the west road. 'Twas a sturdy but utilitarian construct of grey stone, three stories in height and crowned by a battlement, that rose just 'cross the causeway o'er a deep ravine. The actual gate was long absent, but the massive hinge plates remaining in the frame spoke of robust doors.
"We shall encamp on the further side this night," Hírochon told them.
The riders and their support personnel filed through the gate and an enclosed, high-arched way beyond, emerging into a courtyard bisected by the road ere it continued on to the east. The road divided the courtyard unequally, the larger yard to the north. All 'round both yards rose thick walls set with many windows, attesting to the presence of rooms within the wall's thickness. On the ground level adjacent to the yards were open stalls capable of stabling many beasts and parking many wagons. In the center stood the low, circular wall of a well.
"'Tis said that the northern courtyard held rooms for merchants and travelers, stables for their beasts, a kitchen, common room, and some shops. T'would seem there was once sufficient traffic to support a smithy, leather shop, and wheel-wright. The southern courtyard was a mustering place for the garrison of the gate," the knight commander told Eärnur and Arne.
Two hundred soldiers of Arnor had once been posted at the gatehouse, but the cavalry army of twenty-six and a half thousands and their ten thousand supporters o'erflowed down the road east of the gate, parking their wagons and pitching their tents in an encampment that stretched on for 'nigh a mile. Surprising to the officers of Gondor and Rhovanion, the rooms of the gatehouse were still sound, their walls stout and their rooves and floors sturdy. Though whatsoe'er furnishings of wood or fabrics that had originally been present were long decayed, to Men accustomed to campaigning afield, the accommodations seemed lavish. They spent a comfortable night in what was not at all a tumbled ruin.
"I marvel that the gatehouse still stands so well preserved," Eärnur told Hírochon the following morn as they prepared to set out. "The road and causeway too remain remarkably sound."
"They were built with the aid of the Elves, my lord," the knight commander said, as if that explained it all.
During their march on 23 Gwirith, the cavalry passed a succession of gatehouses at three, two, and one league from the capital. As the count of travelers and soldiers long ago had risen with increasing proximity to the city, so each gatehouse had been built larger, its courtyards and stables more spacious, and its accommodations more numerous. Each rose where the road crossed a natural barrier, for unlike other cities of the Dúnedain, Annúminas had no defensive walls that distant. Instead, the Tower of Sunset had been laid out to take full advantage of the terrain. Through all those miles, the king's road had remained sound, its causeways, bridges, and cuttings level and unobstructed. Where steep ridges had been pierced by tunnels, the masonry lining the walls was dry, close fitted, and completely intact. Though the riding tracks to either side were now o'ergrown, within the curbs, the paving was still flat and unbroken. The longer they rode, the greater was the wonder of the Men of Gondor and Rhovanion.
The gatehouse one league from the city had been built with its outer face projecting from a 'nigh sheer cliff face on the eastern side of a deep gorge crossed by a high span of two shapely arches. Behind that facade was bored a tunnel that ran fifty yards through solid rock ere emerging from the hillside o'erlooking a pleasant dale. From there the road descended by several switchbacks ere continuing straight on to the northeast.
Below them, great stands of trees wherein single species predominated stood hither and thither and spoke of ancient orchards. Now, in late Gwirith, the valley was bright with the blossoms of cherry, apple, pear, and plum. Lower growing, untended and now sprawling bushes of currants promised pendant clusters of red and black berries later in the summer. 'Twixt these, the more open spaces of long abandoned fields hosted varied saplings, weeds, and wildflowers. Mid-valley astride the road a town had grown up, long emptied now and yet with its houses, shops, tower, and waterworks marvelously intact. As aforetime, riders marked the decay of woodwork, the doors, window frames, and interior furnishings long crumbled into dust. The failing of rafters meant that some rooves had caved in, yet the stonework remained.
Forested hills rose west, east, and south, whilst to the north lay the banks of Lake Evendim. The late morning sun painted the valley and town with light, as shadows cast by the clouds o'erhead drifted slowly 'cross that peaceful landscape. A gentle breeze off the lake ruffled the leaves, the horses' manes and tails, and Men's hair. No few amongst the host felt a longing at that sight and hope was kindled in many hearts, to find for themselves such an idyllic setting in which to pass their years and raise families once their time as warriors was done.
The column descended into the valley and took the road towards Annúminas. It seemed they rode softly and even the clop of the horses' hooves sounded somehow muted, as if all sought not to disturb the tranquility that they felt enveloping the dale. Many amongst the Elvish host of Lindon were lost in memories recalling this land in better days.
"E'er was Annuilad Erain¹ a desirable place to abide, or so thought the Dúnedain of Arnor," Bregedúr Candon told Eärnur, Arne, and Hírochon as they rode together at the fore of the column. "Even Lord Elendil had a retreat 'nigh the lakefront where he would summer with his family ere the war. Ahhh, the valley was vibrant in those days, with the harvest celebrations, the craft fairs, music festivals, and trade markets," he recalled. After a pause, he sighed and added, "Still, it hath weathered well the years of silence." ¹(Annuilad Erain, Western Valley of Kings = annui(western) + lad(valley) + erain(kings, pl of aran) Sindarin)
The three mortals stared at him a moment ere Hírochon asked, "Came thou hither oft?"
"I came many times to Annúminas by way of the king's road from Fennas Annún, and so passed through this valley. In those days, I was a military advisor to the court of Arnor in the service of my lord Ereinion," he said with a subtle dip of his head at the mention of his late high king.
He recalls what passed in this place two thousand years ago, Eärnur thought, and such I shall long find most unexpected. Yet Hírochon asks after his memories as if they happened yesteryear. Again, my father spoke true. The Men of the North are different from us now, close cousins though our peoples may be.
'Round noon the column stopped for a meal. Riders dismounted and grooms attended the horses. The host had gathered 'nigh the ruins of the town and many regarded it with great curiosity. 'Twas 'naught extraordinary in its layout, or the style of its buildings, and indeed, it could have been any town in Gondor that had fallen into disuse and disrepair. Close-up now, they marked the damage of time and the evidence of long centuries of abandonment. Trees and smaller plants had encroached on the town. Hedges were growing wild 'round once tidy lawns and even forcing their branches through empty windows and doors. Vines had covered walls and fallen leaves carpeted the ground. And yet many could see that should Men come to renew their occupation of the valley, the repairs would not be prohibitive in cost, time, or labor. They would not have to raze and rebuild, only trim back and replace.
The meal finished and the host remounted. They rode out of the town and 'cross the eastern side of the dale. The last gate they passed had been set a league from the city, and so when they left the valley and entered a cutting that pierced the eastern hills, they were indeed drawing 'nigh Elendil's city. Nearer now upon their left were the shores of Nenuial, whilst the road clove through the last half-mile of the hogback ridge that rose higher as it ran south from the lake. A quarter mile that way ran 'twixt high retaining walls of stone, with pine clad slopes looming up on either side. Sounds echoed there and shadows lay deep, but soon the sunlight returned as the eastern face of the hills dropped.
The vanguard of the cavalry felt they had burst from the cutting even though they were only moving at a walk. The change from deep shadows back into afternoon sunlight had been so abrupt as to leave the sensation of staggering out of a cave. Men blinked as their eyes adjusted, and then they stared in mute amazement.
The road exited into a broad valley where it widened immediately from a two-lane track of five fathoms breadth into an avenue a hundred feet wide. This avenue was intersected almost immediately by another, somewhat narrower, which ran to and from the lakeshore. The riders saw sprawling parks and walled gardens interspersed with fine mansions and stately homes. Market squares bordered by shops and neighborhoods of row houses stretched east towards what was obviously a royal precinct. There, a mile off and reaching inland from stone boat slips and the foundations of quays along the strand stood tall, imposing buildings of many stories, lofty towers and massive halls with domed or high peaked rooves, colonnades and flying buttresses, porticos and grand staircases, all built of white stone and visible o'er the canopies of great trees. Most of those domes and rooves were leafed with bright gold that shone in the sunlight. White too were the statues lining the avenues, standing amidst the basins of fountains, or set in o'ergrown parks. Of the same white stone were the balustrades and foundations of many broad terraces and vast plazas paved with multihued marbles and just visible amidst the riot of foliage.
At the head of a long mall situated with its back to the lake stood the walled citadel, within which rose the royal palace and the majestic Tower of Sunset from which the city took its name. Rather than the tall square tower and rectangular Hall of Kings in Minas Anor that Eärnur and Arne knew, Elendil's palace and tower were both round, the palace recalling the Dome of Stars in Osgiliath, whilst the tower recalled the Mindon Eldaliéva in Tirion. Both were fluted upon their exteriors with reinforcing ribs that accentuated the verticality of the structures and lent them an airy delicacy absent in the designs of the South Kingdom.
Beyond the royal precinct, northeast up the shore, the sharpest eyed marked the remains of a town at the head of the River Baranduin. There crumbling wharves were swallowed by the water where once a fishing fleet had docked, and from whence barges had traveled downriver bearing merchandise to the commerce of Eriador. All there was silent now, and 'naught moved save the flowing waters. In that place, the days of Men had passed.
Annúminas had once hosted o'er a half-million souls, mostly Dúnedain and their allied Men of Eriador, along with visiting Elves, yet now it lay deserted. Eerie seemed the silence that hung o'er Elendil's city. Save the sounds of their own Men and horses, the cavalry host heard 'naught but the breeze amongst the leaves, the songs of birds, and the occasional cry of a hawk.
Sharper were the senses of the cavalry of Lindon. They marked amongst the parks and gardens many trees and shrubs that had survived the centuries since they were brought out of Númenor. Some had arrived during the long years when the Faithful were fleeing the growing oppression of the kings, whilst others had come as cuttings or seedlings in the holds of Elendil's four ships. They had been lovingly tended during the habitation of the city, and following its abandonment, they had continued to thrive.
Along with the imported olvar, the Elves also heard the songs of birds that were to be found nowhere else on the Hither Shores, for they too had their origins 'cross the Sundering Sea. From the many olvar and the fewer kelvar, the Elves perceived a faint aura that enveloped the city. 'Twas an enchantment of preservation bequeathed thrice removed, for those creations of the Valar had their origins in the Blessed Realm, from which they had been brought first to Tol Eressëa and then to Númenor, thereby conveying a divine virtue to Mortal Lands.
In their hearts, the Elves felt that so long as that legacy of the Immortal West endured, Annúminas would in some measure resist the Ages and the decay of time. The abandonment of the city had abetted a subtle yet more profound effect upon the Dúnedain. Drawn e'er further from the influence of the West, their stature and the spans of their lives continued to wane. Bit by bit, one-step at a time, the Númenóreans were being withdrawn from the blessings of the Valar that had separated them from other Men. As the Elves faded in Middle Earth, Men would diminish. Perhaps one day they would be physically indistinguishable; their blood intermingled with that of lesser Men. Yet just as the fëar of the Elves were timeless, so too a strain of nobility might persist in the hearts of Men. Like death, the spirit was e'erlasting, a gift of Ilúvatar.
Silent reverence stifled the tongues of the mortal riders. In awe, the Men of Gondor and Rhovanion followed Hírochon and the cavalry of Arthedain to the crossroads, and there they turned south to skirt the city. They camped that night in what had once been a park and spent the hours of darkness 'neath shapely trees whose leaves and blossoms sweetly scented the air with what Men perceived as hope.
On the morn of the 24th they awoke refreshed and in higher spirits than they could recall during the long weeks of riding and sailing since they had left Gondor. They followed the road to the southeastern corner of the valley of Annúminas and there took a road that branched off to the southeast. Many cast glances of longing back towards the city as it disappeared 'twixt the Evendim Hills, but soon the column was swallowed up amidst the shadows of the trees that blanketed the hills and valleys. They rode most of that day, and by evening had come to the end of the Emyn Uial. There they pitched a camp with Baranduin flowing just to their north, and they saw the plains west of Fornost stretching out to their east towards the North Downs.
Now in the morn of 22 Gwirith, as the cavalry rode north to the Hills of Twilight, the infantry column prepared to march. Companies of scouts were sent northeast towards Fornost to espy the march of the Host of Angmar. Save for the carts and draft animals of the supply train, these were amongst the few horsemen remaining 'neath Prince Aranarth's command, and they would range a day's march or more ahead of the foot soldiers. In a few more days, 'twas expected that some would even meet with the cavalry to trade tidings for the coordination of the attack.
The infantry of Gondor, Arthedain, and Lindon marched in the second hour past dawn. They made their way east-northeast, thereby paralleling the foothills of the Emyn Uial that lay ten miles north. At the feet of the hills lay the North Moors and these Aranarth avoided, for atop their underlying granite were poorly drained soils given to forming marshy bogs of peat. Rather, the prince led his troops to the south, just north of the outlier of the White Downs and the town of Long Cleeve. The land there was gently rolling hills upon which grew a lush carpet of grasses and some copses of trees that followed watercourses running down from the hills. This area was within the furthest bounds of the North Farthing of Sûza, sparsely inhabited in the best of times and now deserted by the flight of the Periannath from the war.
The allied host advanced unchallenged and untroubled through that day and the next two, 'til in the evening of the 24th they encamped just north of the bounds of the Shire. During that time, they had covered another seventy-five miles and were but five leagues southwest of Baranduin. Ten leagues to their north-northwest the cavalry was encamped.
That night, Prince Aranarth received his scouts and harkened to their tidings. Their words left him astonished and he could not help but shake his head in amazement. Then laughter welled up in his throat.
"And ye are sure this travesty is no feint? Such a deception created to draw us in would be much to the Witch King's liking," he asked. 'Round him, the scouts shook their heads 'nay'.
"Aye, my lord, the full count of his host labors at this task, and no few have died in the struggle for its achievement. I deem them fully committed to fulfilling the Witch King's will and I doubt not his earnest."
"Very well, I thank ye for your tidings. Has the cavalry also been informed? This, Hírochon, Arne, and Eärnur must hear."
With a broad smile, the lead scout nodded 'yea'.
"Not only are they aware, but their own scouts were met by ours and watched a while together. Hast thou some further orders we should convey hence?"
"Aye. Say thus to the Lord Eärnur, that on the morrow the infantry shall advance and take up concealed positions 'nigh Baranduin and the foe. The cavalry too may spend the morrow in preparation. We shall cross the river and attack an hour past dawn on the 26th, and may the Valar bless our campaign."
With a nod of understanding, the scouts took their leave and rode off into the night, conveying hence the battle plan for to coordinate the actions of the infantry and cavalry of the allies.
Now the night of 22 Gwirith came and the Host of the Witch King continued their laborious march. Tor pushed the great ram forward whilst Men and Yrch strained at the ropes to add their strength. As on the previous two nights, they were repeatedly forced to free the weapon from the muddy country road. Yet more of their host fell, some from accidents, others by opportunistic murder, and many from the sniping of the Laiquendi. The Ringwraith paid it all no mind, save to cajole his troops at any sign of flagging resolve. Ere the approach of dawn, they were seething with frustration, fear, and hatred of their master. The Tor buried themselves for the day and the ram sat in the midst of the host's camp, just one hundred yards shy of the bank of the River Baranduin.
With the Regent of Carn Dûm, Tindomul surveyed the banks on the 23rd.
"T'would seem we have not come to the ford," the Nazgûl observed. With glee, he marked the brightening yellow of fear that colored the shape of his servant.
"I deem the ford was here indeed, master, for the banks show the cuttings that carry the road down to the water," the Man said with quavering voice. His master was not known for indulging setbacks, regardless of cause. "The ford has been washed out o'er the past year, my master. Absent the locals, it hath not been repaired after the spring floods."
The wraith nodded his empty hood, accepting the regent's reasoning. He has still his uses, but his demise was ne'er in doubt.
"I trust then that thou shalt arrange the repairs, my servant," he said. "We shall proceed upon the setting of the accursed sun. In the meantime, set Men to work, for they can labor by daylight. The Yrch and Tor shall relieve them at nightfall."
"T'will be as thou command, master," the regent said, though both he and the wraith knew the Men would ne'er complete the repairs ere nightfall.
The Men of the host had scarcely finished their morning meal and cast themselves down to rest when the regent came amongst them and rousted them back to their labors. With many groans of exhaustion and bitter complaints, they rose to their feet and trudged to the riverbank to appraise the damage. The regent cajoled them and the Ringwraith loomed o'er him adding the incentive of fear to their despair. Slowly, and with seething resentment, they set their hands in the water and mud, seeking for and laying whatsoe'er stones they could find upon the roadbed where it descended into the river. With a length of trunk from a fallen tree, they tamped down the makeshift pavers lest they sink 'neath the weight of the ram.
Throughout the course of that day, they perfected the near ramp of the ford so much as they could. Lack of proper tools and materials exacerbated by their exhaustion made the labor many times more miserable than it needed to be. By nightfall several Hillmen had collapsed and they were promptly hauled off by the Yrch lest their meat be wasted should they fall into the river and be carried away.
Through the night of 23 Gwirith, Yrch and Tor labored to extend the work done by the Men. The Tor carried boulders that they set into the riverbed, creating a surface so uneven that 'naught on wheels could have crossed it. The Yrch bickered and cursed each other, accomplishing little whilst trying to avoid being crushed 'neath the feet of the Tor. They added miscellaneous stones 'twixt the boulders, trying to stabilize them and smooth somewhat the surface of the ford, yet they were too lazy to achieve that goal.
On the bank, Tindomul stood enjoying the wash of despair that colored them green, the occasional flashes of red when pain afflicted some, and the o'erall tinge of yellow that attested to their fear. Dawn approached and he assessed the night's work. 'Twas obvious that the ram would not advance, and another day and night of work would be required.
24 Gwirith dawned and the Men of the host were commanded back to their labors on the ford. They found that the efforts of the Tor and Yrch were a disaster. Through the hours of daylight, they worked to fill in the gaps 'twixt the boulders, tamping the aggregate into a more solid mass that might withstand the passage of the ram. By day's end, they had advanced the usable section of the ford to two fathoms beyond the bank whilst another twelve fathoms lay ahead. They had no idea what could be used to create culverts for the passage of water 'neath their contrived masonry. The Witch King marked that the green of despair was their predominating color. They had begun to doubt that they would e'er finish this task and build a usable ford.
"I deem they require encouragement and motivation," the Nazgûl told his regent. "Furnish them proper incentives ere their next shift."
"Leave it to me, my master. I have in mind just the inspiration required," he said.
That night the Tor and Yrch resumed their labors with no better results. The Tor hauled boulders from the riverbed and set them to extend the ford another two fathoms. The Yrch filled in the spaces 'twixt the boulders in careless and haphazard fashion.
Ere the Tor retreated to their burrows and the Yrch to their cook fires, the Regent of Carn Dûm ordered the Tor to implant a dozen posts 'nigh the bank. He then ordered the Yrch to strangle six Men of Gondmar and impale them on the posts. They would be the first sight greeting the Men as they came to their day's labor, and the increasing stench of their rotting flesh would be a reminder throughout the day of their expendability. When they realized that another six would be added for each day they lingered on the northern bank of Baranduin, they would be well motivated to hasten their labors.
Dawn broke on the 25th and the Men were enraged by what they found at the riverbank. They were only slightly appeased when the regent commanded them to slay six Yrch and impale them on the remaining unoccupied posts. As an added treat, he had them dig out a Torog so that sunlight shone down into its burrow. It turned immediately to stone.
In truth, the regent was unsure if such incentives would affect the remaining Tor at all. Perhaps they were too stupid to infer 'aught from the execution of one of their number. He thought to seek counsel from his master, but also feared that perhaps he had misjudged the situation and would only incite his wrath. In the end, he had the Men rebury the Torog and hoped t'would not be missed.
That day, the Hillmen of Carn Dûm chopped down many trees, cut their trunks into sections two fathoms in length and dragged them to the riverbed. These they laid into the rushing water in the same direction as the current and with gaps of a yard 'twixt them. The water flowed easily through the spaces. Then they covered the trunks with branches and limbs so that boulders and stones could be laid atop. They deemed that they had solved the need for culverts. Both the regent and the wraith deemed that the Men had taken their inspiration from the impaling and their motivation was successful.
That night, the Yrch and Tor added boulders and stones atop the branches and trunks that the Men had set into the riverbed. Ere the dawn of 26 Gwirith, the ford had been extended to five fathoms and nine remained.
All that day and night's labor was closely watched by scouts from the allied infantry and cavalry. They calculated that the ford could not be completed and the ram would not advance ere month's end. The host of Angmar had run out of time.
A league to the south, the allied infantry had marched through the 25th and then set their camp on the southern bank of Baranduin where a country road forded a shallow place in the river. They were eager and well rested when dawn broke on the 26th.
After quickly breaking their fast, they donned weapons and armor and ere the end of the first hour, marched to cross the ford. They numbered thirty-nine thousand Men and two thousand Sindar infantry, but with the addition of their armed auxiliaries, their count was closer to fifty thousands. They crossed Baranduin and marched west, a furlong from the bank. After two miles, they were met by scouts on horseback.
"Prince Aranarth, the enemy waits 'nigh the bank a mile ahead. As expected, they continue their labors on the ford. With the rise of Anor, Men prepare to work whilst Tor and Yrch retire. They expect 'naught and all is as 'twas when espied aforetime," a scout reported. Then, after a shiver and a deep breath, he added, "the Witch King is amongst them."
The last brought a grim clenching of teeth from the prince. Scant were the chances that they could slay that evil, yet his host they could indeed worst, and perhaps with that defeat, the Ringwraith would withdraw. Finally, he nodded and thanked the scout for his tidings.
Then Prince Aranarth called his captains and spoke to them, and so many of the soldiers as could gathered 'round to hear what he would say.
"Form up in a front of a quarter-mile's breadth, stretching inland from the bank to the north," he ordered. "Maintain our advantage of surprise for so long as possible. We shall engage them suddenly, first 'nigh the bank, and then sweep inward with the rest of the line. By virtue of our numbers, we shall drive them in a rout to the northwest, straight into our cavalry.
Many ills have we to redress this day, for many have been lost and much sorrow has been visited upon us," the prince said, and 'round him Men and Elves nodded in agreement. "Men of Arthedain, we shall reclaim our lands, free our people, liberate our city, and avenge our king! We shall strike a blow against the Great Enemy and drive his servant from the north."
Whilst only a subdued cheering followed, Aranarth marked the fire in the eyes of the host and the strength and certainty in their stance. Boisterous they were not, but committed they were, and he deemed them all the more deadly for it. The chance to avenge what they had suffered brought no joy, only grim determination. The host spread out to form a battle line and then they marched forward, their footfalls soft upon the ground.
After another third part of an hour, they came in sight of the ford and the host of their enemies. Almost, some felt pity for the condition of the Hillmen and few remaining Easterlings as they slaved at the construction of the ford. Then their eyes shifted inland, to the cook fires and the companies of resting Yrch who hid their heads 'neath their cloaks to escape the sun, and their hearts hardened anew. Beside the river, bodies were impaled on posts and rotted in the sun. The whole encampment was barbaric, its inhabitants hateful, and they felt the craving to defeat them and drive them from their lands.
They were but a fifty yards from the foe and still unmarked, for none kept watch. Archers knocked arrows and soldiers unsheathed their swords. Spears were leveled and shields raised. There was no shouted command to charge, no call of trumpets or beating of drums. Instead, Prince Aranarth set his fingers to his lips and let forth a piercing whistle, and then the allies charged.
To Be Continued