In An Age Before – Part 204
Chapter One Hundred thirty-three
Dagorlad and the East Bight – The Third Age of the Sun
On the following morning, Bláinn and Norðr-vestandóttir rode to Nýr Vera after breaking their fasts with hot cereal and boiled eggs. Fortified thus, the survivor from the East Bight was able to ride a docile mare without a saddle, stirrups, or reins. 'Twas unfamiliar, and not just a little harrowing for him on unfamiliar terrain, but they went no faster than a trot and arrived safely in the first hour after dawn.
O'er their breakfast, the woman had enquired of Bláinn's time as a slave.
"How long wast thou oppressed?"
"I was born into servitude," he had said, and she could hear the anger in his voice. "My parents were taken in the defeat of their village in 1856 and labored thereafter to grow food for the Easterlings. I was born in 1861, and ere my tenth year I was in the fields with them, dawn to dusk."
"'Tis hard labor, farming," she said, "and I wager it feels harder when others take from thee what thou hast grown."
He nodded to this with his lips set in a grim line.
"When I was twenty, Brodda took me from my village to serve him in his camp," the Man said. "He was constantly moving from one village to another collecting tribute for his father, a vicious warlord who called himself a king, skreyja oskilgetinn¹! I learnt he was but one of many who made that claim." ¹(skreyja oskilgetinn, incompetent bastard Old Norse)
Bláinn was gritting his teeth and his fists were clenched. Norðr-vestandóttir thought it a good sign that he was recovered enough to feel rage.
"It became my duty to attend his piss pot, presenting, carrying, emptying, and cleaning it many times each day. Great humor that brusi bacraut¹ reapt by peeing on my hands or worse whilst I held up the pot for him as he sprayed like a cat. For that, I lost my name amongst them. They called me Piss Boy and 'naught else for eight years." ¹(brusi bacraut, goat asshole Old Norse)
Fury and shame warred on Bláinn's face and Norðr-vestandóttir felt thankful that she had awakened with no name. He was still shaking with rage when they went out to mount the horses and ride to Nýr Vera. During that ride, he said 'naught.
Straightaway, they came to the home of Captain Hrólfr, finding the lord but recently risen. Whilst he joined his family for their morning meal, the escaped slave shared his tidings. After the first quick telling, the captain rose from the table, went to his door, and ordered the sentry there to gather his guard.
"And bring a horse for Bláinn. We ride to Nýrheim at once!"
The captain's wife found an extra woolen tunic and a fur-lined cloak to keep their guest warm, for his own cloth was ragged and thin after his years of servitude. The Man was very glad when he saw that the horse he was to ride bore a saddle, as the prospect of racing forty leagues bareback had been a source of anxiety.
Within a half hour of arriving at Nýr Vera, Hrólfr's company mounted and took their leave. Norðr-vestandóttir shared a grim nod of acknowledgement with the captain's wife ere she collected her horses and rode back to her farm. During that ride she was alone with her thoughts.
She had felt all things peaceful and ordered at the previous sundown, and by dawn, she was filled with foreboding that war was soon to come. Though Bláinn's alarming tidings spoke of a threat to far away Gondor, she doubted not that King Marhwini would ride to the Dúnedain's aid. His father Marhari had been slain at the last King of Gondor's side, and now the kings of the current generation would contest with the same foes. Yet perhaps where Marhari and Narmacil II had fallen, Marhwini and Calimehtar might be victorious. One could wish.
Words spoken in years past came to her from memory.
One day, we hope that they can rise up against their foreign masters, and on that day we would stand ready to aid them.
The woman could not imagine a better time for a slave uprising than when the slave masters had ridden off to war far afield. Yet whilst the Wainriders would be distracted and their forces split, so too would the Northmen be if they followed their king to war on Gondor's behalf, and also tried to support their enslaved kinsmen in the East Bight. She wondered who would prove more capable of fighting on two fronts.
Now as the lore of Gondor recalls, King Calimehtar did indeed receive timely warnings of the gathering Wainriders and their premeditations of war. With Captain Hrólfr's voucher, Bláinn son of Glámr came before King Marhwini and proffered his tidings of the East Bight. Brodda's Piss Boy revealed the schemes of the Easterling chieftains, to cross Anduin at the Undeeps and conduct raids through Calenardhon. 'Twas a logical bid to expand their empire west, for the Wainriders had held all the lands east of Anduin and south of the forest since their great victory at the Battle of the Plains in 1856. Only the river Anduin and the uninhabitable Plain of Dagorlad, lay 'twixt Gondor's fair province of Ithilien and the invaders. Of those, the Undeeps were the easiest route. South of the mouth of the River Limlight, Anduin twice bent west, and in those places the water spread and ran shallow o'er many shoals and beds of gravel. Save during the spring flooding, both were easily forded by Men afoot and horses.
Calenardhon, the Green Province, was in those days but sparsely populated. The Great Plague had emptied its people in 1636 and they had ne'er recovered. 'Twas a broad plain of grassy and rolling land that lay north of the Ered Nimrais, unforested save in the foothills and mostly flat, and therefore ideal for mounted forces. If the Wainriders could seize it, they would have easy access to the heart of the Dúnedain kingdom, whose great cities were located close by the eastern border of that land down a well paved road. The jeopardy of Minas Anor and Osgiliath was great indeed.
King Marhwini listened to Bláinn's rede with a mixture of alarm and hope. King Calimehtar would have to be warned and the road to White City was long, but he would send messengers swift and well-known to the king's court. Then he would marshal his Men and ride south to Nýr Vera, there to refine his plans to support Gondor and an uprising in the East Bight as well. Once Calimehtar decided his strategy, Marhwini's messengers would return bearing a plan with which to coordinate their actions and crush the Wainriders. That outcome was dear to both kings after their peoples' stinging defeat forty-three years aforetime. Aside from land lost and friends fallen, each had a father to avenge.
The ex-slave had barely finished his tidings when Marhwini called for his captains and his heir. Prince Forthwini and two veteran Northmen hastened to attend their king.
"Father, thou hast summoned us," the heir said as he and the captains bowed before their king.
"Just so, my son. Welcome, my friends," Marhwini said, dipping his head to acknowledge his captains. "We have much to discuss and time presses. Hearken to me now."
The muster of Nýrheim began an hour later, but by then, Forthwini and five bodyguards had drawn rations and two spare mounts apiece to ride in shifts, and then they made their farewells to their families and took the road south. Two hundred and twenty leagues that way led, six hundred sixty miles. Should they not meet mishap or treachery, they expected to stand in the citadel of Minas Anor a dozen days hence. There they would give their respects to the Dúnedain king, and offer a parchment written by their king detailing what was known and what was hoped.
The following day, having learnt his king's will and needing some time to prepare all things, Captain Hrólfr and his guards rode for home.
At dawn a week after Bláinn's coming, King Marhwini and the captains Æthelred and Kveld-Úlfr led eighteen hundred spears south. Another two hundreds they expected to enlist at Sunnan Hǫrgr, whither word had been sent six days earlier, and where most of the army would encamp. After the migrations but a couple years aforetime, there were many buildings available in which to billet troops and stable horses, and t'would be a lesser strain than having Nýr Vera host all their numbers.
To Nýr Vera the king and his guard would come, there to take council with Captain Hrólfr and await the return of his heir bearing word from King Calimehtar of Gondor. From the New Refuge would come five hundred riders to bolster his numbers, and many wagons filled with provisions for the campaign. But just as important to his heart, in Nýr Vera would muster soldiers and hunters, four hundreds strong, who would cross the forest afoot to fight in the East Bight.
Now in the evening of the third day of their ride, the army from Nýrheim arrived in Sunnan Hǫrgr. There, King Marhwini found the arrangements had been made and many buildings were provisioned with firewood. Many troughs had been filled with water, and many mangers filled with fodder. Men and horses would have shelter whilst they awaited word of battle. The riders settled in for what all expected would be a fortnight to a month of boredom. In the morn of the fourth day, King Marhwini committed the command of the host to the Captains Æthelred and Kveld-Úlfr, and then with a company of bodyguards, rode the twenty miles to Nýr Vera.
In New Refuge, King Marhwini was received by Captain Hrólfr and his family. The Men of his guard went to berths in the barracks of the local riders whilst the king took the quarters in the captain's home that had been built for official visits.
"How stand our preparations, my old friend," the king asked the captain.
"My lord, the riders are preparing to deploy on thine orders, five hundreds horse to ride with thee to the relief of King Calimehtar. They are the best soldiers we have.
I next asked for volunteers to fight in the East Bight should a revolt there begin. My lord, well 'nigh e'ery able bodied Man, youth, and even some of the women put their names forward, hoping to find again some lost kin, or avenge our people on the hated Easterlings. I chose four hundreds as ordered, the best hunters and fighters amongst them, explaining to the rest that some must remain to defend our home should the need arise. I cannot be sure that some of those rejected shall not go east on their own account."
Marhwini nodded in understanding. Were he not king, he would go to join the fight in his old homeland, despite having reached the age of three score and seven the previous winter. Yet his part was to command, to ride at the head of his hors earm and come to the relief of his allies in Gondor.
"I understand their desire, for the same fire burns in my heart as well," he said.
"As it does in my own," Captain Hrólfr confirmed. "If thou hast not yet named a commander to lead our Men into the east, I put forward my own name. Little save honor and duty eclipse this desire in my heart, to avenge the loss we sustained so long ago."
Again Marhwini nodded in understanding. He and Hrólfr, and two others who had not survived, had been charged by their fathers with safeguarding their people whist they rode to war beside King Narmacil II. But Marhari and Narmacil had been slain on the plain south of the forest. The Wainriders had come to the battle from the north and northeast, ravaging the lands of the Northmen along the way, and against such a horde, Marhwini and Hrólfr had been forced to give way. Routed, they had led the remnant of their people west, to the Vale of Anduin, and then removed further north. For a short while, more refugees had come to them after fleeing through the forest, but that tide had ebbed ere the year ended. The defeat had left a bitter taste on their tongues and a fire in their hearts that made rest difficult, for it drove their counsels like a goad.
"My friend, thou art now three score and nine and that campaign shall be fought afoot. 'Tis fifty leagues just to reach the East Bight. The year is young, and though the weather turns, 'tis cold yet. Besides, should thou go east, who shall order Nýr Vera in thy stead?"
"My lord, my son Rekkr is a Man of a score and nine years, a leader of riders and accustomed to the duties I have held, for he hath seen them from his first days. All here know him. He can govern Nýr Vera during the campaign, and I hope he shall serve thee when I am gone."
For a while the king sat silent. Truth be told, he would breathe easier with so trusted and experienced a comrade commanding the campaign in the East Bight; one as committed as he himself, and for the same reasons.
"So, t'will be two old Men who lead our last campaign, eh, my friend?"
"'Tis our last chance to conquer and regain our honor in our fathers' eyes, if they hold that we indeed lost it aforetime. I deem we both know better than most for what we fight. 'Naught more can a rider ask than to war with courageous heart in a righteous battle, win or lose, ere the years slay us all."
The king was silent. Time is our bane, he thought, Urðr¹ inescapable. He sighed and decided his counsel. ¹(Urðr, Dire Fate Old Norse)
"Ride to the forest," Marhwini finally said, "and Rekkr shall swear allegiance to Forthwini on his return from Minas Anor."
Captain Hrólfr dipped his head to honor his king's will, and then wondered just how to tell his wife of their decision.
On the next day, that being the twelveth since Bláinn had come to the king with tidings, Prince Forthwini rode into Minas Anor and was announced in the Hall of Kings. There he was greeted by King Calimehtar and honored as a friend and ally, and the lord of the Southern Dúnedain received the missive from his counterpart, King Marhwini. The prince of the Northmen watched whilst the king's eyes grew round as he read the words. When he looked up from the parchment, he smiled.
"Join my council and meet my captains, Prince Forthwini Marhwinisonr," King Calimehtar said, "and then return north to thank thy father for his most timely tidings."
Straightaway the king sent pages to gather his captains, and he bid his steward cancel the day's remaining affairs of court. Then he led the prince through a door behind the dais to his council chamber and there offered refreshments with his thanks. They were still seated at the table when the captains arrived to attend their king.
Maps were spread on the tabletop and a plan was sketched. The enthusiasm of the king and his Men grew as the site for the battle was chosen and the movements of the troops determined. A timetable for the operation was decided and the logistics reviewed. Mileage was plotted and the necessary support personnel were tallied. When all was committed to parchment as orders for the mustering and deployment of the Army of Gondor, the prince and the Dúnedain wore broad smiles, for each could foresee their victory in the tokens arrayed on the map.
Prince Forthwini spent but a single night in the White City, and at the crack of dawn, he and his company rode north in haste. Their spirits were high, for they had been told of the plan, and they looked forward to playing their part in the great battle to come.
On the ninth day, they arrived at Nýr Vera and met with King Marhwini. Within the hour, messengers were dispatched to Captains Æthelred and Kveld-Úlfr in Sunnan Hǫrgr. Great was the rejoicing of the Northmen when they learnt that they would indeed ride to war. 'Twas by then mid-Gwaeron and the weather was warming. The following day, wagons were loaded with supplies, tents were packed, gear checked, and weapons sharpened. The next day, two thousand riders mounted their steeds and rode to Nýr Vera. There on the north-south track, they met the king and five hundred spears. And finally, the full hors earm of the Northmen rode south.
As the dust of their horses hooves settled, four hundred heavily laden hunters, soldiers, and skilled woodsmen slipped out of the town and made their way east towards the distant forest. Only one of that number rode, as he had been ordered by the king. Each of those four hundreds carried his personal weapons and two others, swords, maces, axes, and bows, enough to arm another eight hundred fighters in the East Bight. On their backs they bore packs filled with rations, and 'neath their cloaks they resembled Dwarves as much as Men. Two days they spent marching through the grasslands to the eaves of the forest, fifty miles.
One their third morning out from Nýr Vera, Captain Hrólfr dismounted and sent his horse back bearing an empty saddle and a note.
Rekkr, my son. Thou hast sworn fealty to our king's heir, and I have faith that thou shalt serve Prince Forthwini as I have served his father, and my father served King Marhari. Thy oath shall steel thy heart, birthing courage for to do the duty we pledge to our people. Be strong, keep hope, and bow to no fear. I am proud of thee, my son, more than words can tell. ~ Hrólfr Arnesonr, Captain of the South and Regent of Nýr Vera
He watched just long enough to be sure the horse was galloping west and then followed his Men into the forest.
'Twas as twilight 'neath the trees. The Men found it a strange change from the open lands they knew, but their determination allowed no doubts to take root. They marched on, bearing their burdens and their hopes. Thirty leagues they had scouted through the forest to the East Bight, and now Broddr and others who had mapped the paths and marked the trails aforetime led the way. They reckoned t'would be a march of four days. During that time they would light no fires, and the somber nature of the forest hushed their voices.
Along the way they sustained themselves on dense biscuits called cram, a Mannish waybread of flour, salt, and a meal of stone ground oats. The cram carried on this campaign was not intended to last more than a fortnight, and so it included either pounded, dried meat, or honey and dried berries. 'Twas more nutritious and more flavorful than the rations to which most riders had been accustomed. Too, they had sausages of mixed meats and small wheels of cheese, both smoked for flavor and drying.
With the trails discreetly marked, Broddr and the other mapmakers had no trouble leading the four hundred warriors through the forest. They met no foes, nor even saw much wildlife save squirrels and birds. For four days they walked seven or eight leagues a day, 'til on the sixth day after leaving Nýr Vera, they saw from the verge of the wood, the grasslands stretching out to the east, bespeckled with hamlets and towns. They had come at last to the East Bight.
Now during those same six days, King Marhwini, with the captains Æthelred and Kveld-Úlfr at his side, led the hors earm south. Two hundred eighty miles they rode down the Vale of Anduin, and they came beyond the southernmost verge of the forest. There they passed through the downs that lay 'cross the river from the Field of Celebrant, 'til they came 'nigh the North Undeep. There they pitched a camp, setting scouts and sentries to watch for the enemy, and they awaited the coming of their allies.
Following his council of war in Minas Anor, King Calimehtar mustered from Gondor's Northern Army, fifty thousand foot and twenty thousand horse, and he divided his companies according to the plan. On the third day after the council of war, they marched from Minas Anor. With his infantry went a vanguard of five thousand cavalry, and ten thousand support personnel. They crossed Anduin at Osgiliath and marched north through Ithilien to the barren plain of Dagorlad. Slow was their progress and they took no notice of Wainrider scouts seen in the distance, nor of the dust their own feet raised. At night they lit many watch fires 'round their camps and many campfires so that with patience, a sharp eye could guess their count. Despite being espied and their numbers reckoned from the depths of their ranks and files, the Easterlings did not mark that within each block of infantry were archers totaling ten thousand. Their attention was focused on the vanguard of horsemen and the forest of spears held vertically by the marching Dúnedain.
On the same day they had marched, fifteen thousand cavalry left Minas Anor, riding through eastern Calenardhon. They galloped past the northern foothills, Amon Dîn, Eilenach, Nardol, Erelas, Minrimmon, Calenhad, and Halifirien, forded the Mering Stream, and continued on one hundred forty miles 'til they forded the Snowbourne in the shadow of Mt. Írensaga. There they finally turned north, taking a track that led fifty-five miles to a ford crossing the River Onodló, the Entwade. From there the track led along the east bank of the Onodló, skirting the downs and the Wold. Where the river bent sharply west, half the cavalry peeled off eastward, to run 'twixt the downs 'til they reached the South Undeep upon Anduin.
The remaining cavalry continued up the track, following it west then north alongside the river. The grassy hills of the Wold passed on their right flank, but finally they found a long-known but seldom used path through that undulating landscape that led to the North Undeep. There, a fortnight and three days after the king's council of war, they crossed Anduin and soon met their allies, the Northmen.
Great rejoicing there was in that meeting, and indeed some of the warriors upon both sides met friends long sundered. No few of the Northmen deemed that this would be their last campaign, for they could now count six decades and more. Young warriors they had been in 1856 when the Wainriders had the victory. Like their king, they now believed that no better chance would they have to avenge their defeat and go to their fathers having conquered their foes. The forty-three years since the Battle of the Plains had wrought its changes upon them, for now they were aged. Yet now they met again knights they had known in battle aforetime. Despite some maturing, a line on a face perhaps, or a thicker moustache or brows, the Dúnedain looked much as they had aforetime. They years had not passed them by entirely, but it had been stingy in its toll.
Now aged riders introduced their sons to knights they had met decades ago, and their sons marveled that these Men, who looked little older than themselves, were of an age with their fathers. They had been easy for the Northmen to recognize. Not so for the Dúnedain. Though they all knew the swifter aging of the Middle Men, for they saw it amongst the subjects of their realm, they labored to hide their shock at how the years had changed their comrades.
Amongst the Northmen, a few pondered what they now saw. Of the five hundred from Nýr Vera were no few who had met Norðr-vestandóttir.
"Now I believe 'tis as thou hast said, father," a young rider said quietly when they were alone. "She is like to these Men of Gondor, and so she must surely be kin to them in some measure."
The father nodded to his son, but to himself he thought, Nay, she is not, for even I can see the changes the years have wrought on these Dúnedain, scant when compared to us, yet she is wholly unchanged from the night I saw her come to the massacre of Gamall Vera, twenty-eight years. Our lord said she claimed to be unchanged since 1856, and his counsels were troubled after.
On the morrow, scouts of the Northmen joined with a dozen scouts of the Dúnedain, and these had doffed their knightly armor and wore leather jerkins and cloaks. Now, rather than lances, they bore bows and quivers of arrows, black steel heirlooms of the South Kingdom patterned on the Númenórean war bows of legend. In an Age before, no few of the original weapons had come from lost Atalantë in the holds of Isildur and Anárion's ships, yet on even these, the years had brought ruin. Centuries of use had slowly changed the crystalline structure of the metal¹, and eventually the bows began to fail. Yet in the years whilst the kings still ruled in Gondor, the craft of their forges was wrought with great skill, and they reproduced their bows, identical in forging and temper. If they were in any way lesser, 'twas that the ore of the Mortal Lands was not quite so fine, but in use, they were indistinguishable. Any differences, only the Ages would tell. ¹(An antiquated and debunked notion of the cause of failure due to metal fatigue.)
Now the scouts went forth and they sought in the downs and the Brown Lands for the scouts of the enemy. These they found, and company by company they slew them silently, by ambush, or from such distances as the heavy broadheads of the Gondorian archers could fly. For two days they cleared those lands, advancing 'til the flat, dun, arid expanse of the northern Dagorlad stretched off to the south and east. Upon that ruined plain where 'naught grew, none could move without raising clouds of dust to mark their passing. The scouts kept watch from the crests of the highest downs and in the distance they soon espied clouds raised by many riders, and many chariots, and many wains. These were moving south in a great mass. Men looked to each other and grinned. The Wainriders had taken the king's bait and his gambit had drawn them far south from their homes.
"Knowing the horizon for a Man standing on flat ground to be 'round a league, or a mile more for one standing a fathom higher on a wagon bench, we shall follow just distantly enough to remain out of sight," King Marhwini said to Huor, the Knight Commander of the Dúnedain cavalry, and received a nod of agreement.
The ten thousand Northmen and the Dúnedain who had crossed Anduin at the North Undeep rode south two hours later. They kept to a walking pace so as to raise the minimum cloud of dust and so as not to approach their enemies too closely. On their second day of stalking the Easterlings, they came abreast of the South Undeep and met those Knights of Gondor who had crossed Anduin there. Now numbering seventeen and a half thousands, they followed in the wake of the Wainriders and tried to gauge their strength from the abundant hoof prints and wheel tracks. Their best estimate was seventy-five thousand, giving the foe a small o'erall numerical advantage, though they were unsure of how many in their count were warriors and how many were support personnel.
The pursuit continued through another day, the third, but on the fourth day they saw a great cloud of dust rising to the south, and with it, columns of smoke. From the details of King Calimehtar's tactics in his plan, they knew that battle had been joined. Now they hastened forward at a trot, and in an hour, they came within sight of a massive battle.
There on the plain of Dagorlad, wagons burned and the dead and wounded, of Men and horses, littered the hard-packed earth. Easterling riders fired hails of arrows and charioteers cast javelins at the Dúnedain infantry's shield wall that bristled with spears. On the western flank, horsemen of Gondor and Rhûn contested in a cavalry battle that went on almost as a separate conflict. The charges with lance and spear had passed and now 'twas swords engaged at close range.
As they drew closer, the Northmen and the knights of Gondor marked a growing count of fallen Easterlings, shot from up to three hundred yards by the ten thousand Númenórean style war bows. The enemy's great wains had drawn back to a safe distance, a precaution they had learnt at the cost of many such that still burned, ignited by the first volleys of flaming arrows from within the Dúnedain ranks. One other factor the newcome riders marked. The Wainriders attacked in swift, independent companies rather than charging en mass.
For the Easterlings, the battle was not going according to their hopes. Their battle doctrine included hit and run tactics based on companies that attacked from the fore and the flanks in a bid to confuse their massed foes and whittle away at their defenses. But the wall of broad, lapped shields still held against them and any who approached too close were shot. The Wainriders had seen arrows pierce the wall of a chariot to kill the warriors within, or pass through the base of a horse's neck to kill its rider. Their wains, filled with archers and accustomed to approaching within bowshot, had been held at bay or set afire at distances too great for them to be a valid offensive force.
The cavalry of Gondor was comparatively sparse by their standards and should have been quick to fall, or be driven off, but they were supported from within the infantry ranks by the long-distance fire of the Dúnedain archers. Aforetime, the Wainriders had ne'er been met by so many, and aforetime they had ne'er been a determining factor in a battle. Now 'twas as if they provided an invisible shield 'round infantry and cavalry alike. Victory would come in time, but at a greater cost than expected, and o'er a far longer term of engagement than anticipated. They could not but remain focused on the enemy before them and exercise extreme prejudice. Occupied thus, they failed to mark the pounding of hoof beats from the north and their northwestern flank.
The Northmen and the Dúnedain cavalry had watched the battle and slowly advanced close enough that their final charge was of but a half-mile. They galloped en mass, half against the rear of the Wainrider army and half against its western flank. As the Northmen bore down on the gathered wains, they flung flaming torches against their canvas sides and onto wooden beds, or fired cold arrows against the archers standing within. Set afire, some of their teams panicked and charged forward, bearing the wagons they drew into firing range of the massed archers within the infantry ranks of Gondor. Other wagon drivers who retained control of their teams began to withdraw east, towards their own left flank, in hopes of escaping attack.
Now when they had marked the charge of their allies, the mounted vanguard of Gondor disengaged and retreated, falling back along the western flank their own infantry, and well within the covering fire of their archers. Left alone on the battlefield, the Wainrider cavalry could not but withdraw north in hopes of escaping being shot. When they turned to retreat, they beheld the unexpected charge of many foes that were already assailing their wains and rear guard. They paused in fatal indecision, and well 'nigh as soon as their own cavalry was clear, the Dúnedain archers loosed volleys of arrows into their midst, slaying many and wounding more, for they were but a hundred yards from the outer files of the infantry. Choosing what they thought to be the lesser of two evils, the surviving Easterlings fled back towards their own lines and into the maw of the mass charge of the Gondorian cavalry.
The vanguard lay alongside the west flank of their infantry as the Wainrider cavalry withdrew north, and the footmen of Gondor handed o'er many spears to their horsemen, rearming a great count so that they could join the attacking cavalry and reengage their foes.
During that time, Marhwini and his Northmen assailed their foes with maniacal fervor. They raised their voices, taunting and screaming insults as was their tradition. Here at last was that chance they had craved for decades, and now battle fire burned hot in their veins. With arrows and spears, and finally swords, axes, and clubs, they embattled the Men of Rhûn with deadly intent. Surprise they had in their favor and the heat of their hatred as well, but one other advantage they enjoyed, their horses.
The Knights of Gondor wore full plate armor and seldom dismounted to fight afoot, but 'twas e'er possible to be pulled down and remounting unassisted in a suit of armor forced them to restrict their horses to sturdy mounts of 'round fourteen hands in height. The Eastern mounts were similarly sized, but lighter of build, though great in speed and endurance as Helluin would learn when she befriended Barq seventy-five years later. But the horses of the Northmen bore large Men encumbered by little armor, mostly hard leather with some mail or a few steel plates. Their horses stood up to seventeen hands high and were bred for size and endurance. They were as much as a foot taller and four hundred pounds heavier than their Wainrider counterparts. (Think an ancestral war horse akin in size to a modern Friesian or Shire breed)
The Northmen shied not from galloping straight against a foe and forcing him to yield either by fear of the collision of the horses, dint of a weapon, or both. With their size and ferocity, and combined with the numbers of their Dúnedain allies, the Northmen drove their foes east with great loss. They shot wagon drivers and speared charioteers, for neither of those could outrun them, leaving only the mounted cavalry as a hostile factor to be driven from the field.
Behind the Wainrider withdrawal, the infantry of Gondor charged forward to slay with arrows those archers stranded in their wains or chariots. Faced with arrows that could pass straight through a Man to slay the Man behind him whilst still beyond their own range, many Easterling archers abandoned their embattled wains to take their chances fleeing afoot, and many of these were shot down as they ran. Yet more were cut down by the Gondorian cavalry if they survived beyond archery range.
For a while the Wainriders tried to regroup and counterattack, but they were relentlessly hounded by Knights of Gondor and Northmen who charged any companies as they tried to mass, scattering them again and forcing them to renew their efforts. The attrition the Wainriders had sought to inflict on the Dúnedain infantry was being inflicted instead upon their wheeled forces. The wiles of King Calimehtar and the ferocity of the Northmen carried the day, and after an engagement of four hours, the remaining Easterling cavalry broke off and withdrew north with their mounted foes in pursuit. Eventually, the endurance of their horses allowed the survivors to escape the field and the Northmen and Dúnedain turned back south. The defeated would return to their holdings on short rations and thirsting for water, for they had only such supplies as they carried in their saddlebags, and not a single one of their wains returned with them.
Somewhere in that melee, an incompetent bastard and his goat asshole son were slain, and thereby Bláinn son of Glámr, Brodda's Piss Boy was avenged.
The allies had won a great victory that day. From the plain of Dagorlad, but one in five of the Wainriders who had come to the battle returned home, demoralized and seething with hatred, whilst eight in ten added their bones to the slain of an Age before. For o'er four decades to come, the threat of the Easterlings was reduced and Gondor would have peace.
In the aftermath, the kings Calimehtar and Marhwini met, and they surveyed the slaughter and then rejoiced together at the outcome. For two miles north from where the infantry had engaged, the dry ground was stained with blood and littered with the carcasses of horses and the corpses of Men. Soldiers of Gondor were already retrieving spent arrows that in some spots protruded from the ground like the quills of a porcupine. Others they wrenched or cut from the dead. They recovered their spears too, whilst some took enemy weapons as trophies of their victory. With the Northmen, they shared the surviving horses. The wains and chariots they gathered and fired in a great burning. The enemy wounded, they put to the sword.
"At last our fathers are avenged, my lord," Marhwini said, "and soon I shall face them without shame."
"I too shall visit the tomb of my father with a lighter heart. I hope that both our realms shall enjoy a measure of peace at last."
"A dearly bought gift that shall be to my son," Marhwini said. "May thou live to enjoy it."
King Calimehtar sighed as he looked to his old friend. Aye, being a Dúnadan, he would likely survive to savor the peace this day had bought, whilst his friend would pass from the world in what to him would seem but a few years. He dipped his head to honor Marhwini's words.
"We shall both enjoy this peace for howe'er many years we have," he finally said. "Though my people are long lived, who may truly know the will of the Valar? We are both mortal and subject to death in our own time. Only the Elves truly live fore'er, and even they can be slain."
To this, the king of the Northmen nodded in agreement.
"Whate'er our ends may be, today was a good day."
And to that, the king of Gondor nodded in agreement.
"We take our leave upon the morrow, my lord," Marhwini said. "I hope our luck holds, for we have still a battle to wage in the east."
"My hopes and the hopes of Gondor go with thee, lord. I know the liberation of thy people and thy homeland is dear to thy heart. I shall pray for thy victory, for I would have friends again to my north."
The securing of the battlefield continued into the evening, and then both armies set watches and encamped for the night. There, Men and horses rested, for on the morrow, both armies would march for home. Dagorlad was not a wholesome place to linger.
The night was chill and a breeze blew from the west as Anor sank behind the Ered Nimrais. And some swore they saw ghost lights wavering dim in the south whither lay the Dead Marshes, thirty leagues distant. Others swore they heard faint whispers, enticing, that drew their eyes thither in troubled dreams. Few slept well that night and all were eager to be away with the first hint of dawn.
As a faint light grew in the east, the Dúnedain and the Northmen exchanged farewells, and they parted with much honor and well wishing, and many pledges of friendship. Marhwini led his riders north, and behind their supply wagons were tethered o'er four hundred and fifty horses captured from the Wainriders, a great spoil of war.
From the eaves of the forest, Captain Hrólfr and his company kept watch on the East Bight. They marked the rising of smoke from the hamlets and the hastening of many Wainriders 'cross the grasslands. A great host was moving south, gathering its strength as it passed each habitation and drawing off the warriors stationed there. Whether for better or for worse, the enemy had taken the advancing army of Gondor as a challenge to smite, and so they massed for war. By the next morn, the wains and chariots and the companies of cavalry were gone, leaving their families and a few guards to maintain their occupation and watch o'er the slaves. They had won these lands forty-three years aforetime and they had enjoyed them in relative peace since. Little jeopardy did they deem their absence would create.
Now as the morning progressed, a company of four Men made their way a half-mile from the nearest hamlet to the eaves of the forest. Northmen they were, tall and golden haired, yet gaunt from too much labor and too little food. Two of these bore woodmen's axes and another pair drove a small cart. They were detailed by their masters to chop firewood, and with the fifth part of what they brought back, they could cook their food and heat their homes.
The cart followed a faint track through a field of stumps to its end, ten yards from the trees, and there the Men dismounted and walked a short way to the nearest tree, a field maple of a foot's thickness with many spreading branches bearing dark winter buds, but yet to leaf or flower. T'would supply logs of manageable size from its trunk that the Easterling o'erlords would no doubt claim, but also many smaller logs from the branches, and innumerable twigs for kindling. The Men set to work swinging their axes, and 'neath the ringing of their strokes, a dozen of Captain Hrólfr's Men moved 'nigh. They waited within the shelter of the trees 'til the maple fell and the second pair of Men took up the axes to begin breaking down the tree ere a half-dozen slipped forward to meet the slaves.
At first the four reacted with shock to see some of their own appear from the forest, for 'twas forbidden to them to venture thither. They assumed they were watched, perhaps not constantly, but certainly checked on from time to time. The Men from Nýr Vera could but hope the distance would fool the watchers' eyes.
"Pray continue chopping that the sound of your axes continues to tell of your labor," one said, and the chopping hastily resumed.
Now the four Men from the East Bight had grown to manhood 'neath the yoke of slavery and had ne'er known freedom from their Easterling o'erlords. Meeting free men of their own race was a great surprise. Yet all of them had felt the condescension of their masters and resented their servitude. All had parents who recalled the days of freedom that had been aforetime, and all had heard the tales of their peoples' defeat and subjugation. And so they yearned for freedom that they had ne'er known.
The Men from Nýr Vera spoke to them of their plans and beseeched the slaves to join with them in revolt, and to spread word amongst their kin when they returned to their hamlet. The time was ripe, they said, for in the south, the King of Gondor threatened war, and the warriors of the Wainriders had ridden to meet him in battle. 'Twas the first time in their lifetimes that so few of their masters' people o'ersaw them, and no better chance would they have to reclaim their freedom. Words of hope they offered to inflame the hearts and desires of their captive brethren, and those words were eventually received despite the fear and hesitation long ingrained by their hereditary status. When they loaded up their firewood, they turned their cart for home with two short-hafted battle axes, a sword, and a studded club concealed 'neath their cargo bed.
No other slaves came 'nigh the forest during the remainder of that day, and so Captain Hrólfr set a watch and let his Men rest 'til nightfall. During that time, some farmers were seen plowing under manure to enrich their soil now that the ground was thawed. They worked close by the hamlet and kept to their labors. Other activities were marked in the settlement, but 'naught of any remark. It seemed that no alarms had been raised and the wood cutters had remained safe.
Evening came and the Northmen roused and prepared for action. They took water and rations and checked their weapons. As full dark fell, each took a second weapon from the hoard of supplies that they left hidden in the forest, and then with such stealth as they could manage, advanced to invade the hamlet.
When the Northmen came 'nigh, they espied a pair of watchmen circling the homes. These were mounted Wainriders, charged with ensuring the peace and foiling any attempts at escape. On their second circuit of the hamlet they were shot down from close range and their bodies hidden. Their horses were caught and taken to the forest.
The invasion continued to the closest home, a wooden hut of two rooms at the end of a dirt track, occupied by a family of four, husband, wife, and two sons of teen years. Captain Hrólfr tapped softly on the door after his Men had watched through the windows to make sure no others were present. The husband came to answer, hesitant and wary, for a knock in the night could betide only threats. He expected Easterlings and was shocked to find three well-fed and well-dressed warriors of the Northmen. Quickly he ushered Hrólfr and his Men inside, checked the yard outside, and then shut fast the door.
In haste, the captain questioned the family about their state and the state of the hamlet. Eighty-two souls called the settlement home. The count of foes was heard and the homes that the Easterlings claimed were identified. By their best reckoning, only a couple dozen remained; eight warriors and four families.
"Six warriors now," Hrólfr said, "for two mounted sentries shall trouble ye no more."
His tidings brought nervous smiles from the family, for should the newcomers fail, the revenge of the Easterlings would be bitter.
"As ye live closest to the forest, would ye be willing to lead your neighbors hence? I can send Men to guide them to our camp," the captain asked.
The family looked to the father, and after a few moments of indecision, he nodded 'aye'. Having been born into slavery, he was glad he was not being asked to fight, yet his heart bid him do what he could in hope that his sons could live free one day. When their council was done, Captain Hrólfr and his Men slipped out, skipped the next house where the family had said only an elderly couple lived, and came to the larger home of a larger family.
They were greeted at the door by a farmer whose family was gathered 'round their hearth, wife, a son, two daughters, the wife's parents, and the farmer's mother. The three elders still recognized warriors of their kindred and welcomed the Men of Nýr Vera, leaving the younger family members to nervously watch the windows.
"Long have we hoped to see some of our own, free and armed," the wife's father said. "I am only saddened that so many years have passed and my time for bearing a sword is done."
Hrólfr dipped his head to the old Man and said, "had we come a few years earlier, I would have been proud to fight beside thee."
"Perhaps my son-in-law shall fight to honor our family's name, as was the way of our Men when war threatened the Kingdom of Marhari. My grandson could use a couple more winters though…"
The farmer turned from the window and nodded 'aye'. He walked o'er to the hearth and pried up the first board, and from the small space 'neath it withdrew a long parcel wrapped in oiled cloth. This he unwrapped and produced a sword with a horse-head pommel, and he began rubbing from it a protective coat of grease.
"Father, I beg the use of thy sword," he said to his father-in-law, to which the old man nodded 'aye'.
Eyeing the weapon, Hrólfr said, "thou wast a soldier upon a time."
"I was," the old Man said, "a rider and vassal of my lord Álfvinr¹." ¹(Álfvinr, Elf friend Old Norse)
"Lord Álfvinr was known to me," Hrólfr said. "Alas for his fall. With Prince Marhwini, Eikinskjald¹,and me, he was charged by the king to defend our lands. Alas for our failure." ¹(Eikinskjald, Oakenshield Old Norse)
The old Man nodded and said, "I pray our fathers grant thee victory now, Lord Hrólfr."
Now the farmer finished the cleaning of his father-in-law's weapon, and he bid his family a farewell, and then, donning a cloak, followed the captain and his Men out into the night. Of him, the Northmen learnt which houses were the homes of Men able to bear arms and willing to support a rebellion. To these they went one after another, and with the introduction of the farmer, enlisted two dozen slaves.
As the night grew old, the rebels assailed the homes of the Easterlings, and with whole companies to attack each house, they slaughtered all the o'erlords and freed the hamlet as dawn was just coloring the eastern sky. That morn, they bid the townsfolk gather, and many were shocked that they had been freed whilst they slept. And they saw their neighbors bearing weapons, with blood on their hands, but alight with victory, the first in their lives. Then they took whatsoe'er supplies they had, and 'aught that they could glean from the homes of the Wainriders, and Men of Nýr Vera led them to safety in the forest.
So the rebellion of the East Bight began, and from the freeing of a single hamlet the Northmen gained knowledge of the surrounding villages, and some horses, and some additional fighters. With the knowledge of the villages closest by, they repeated their success on the next night, though they were also forced to slay a trio of Wainriders who came to the second village on routine duty. On the third night of the rebellion, three villages and a larger town were freed of Easterlings. The count of the rebels was now increased by a hundred liberated slaves, and as a company of five hundred, they spread rebellion and attacked enemy checkpoints and slaughtered their garrisons, which at that time were depleted of warriors who had ridden south to war. Many horses they took, and store of weapons and supplies to aid their cause, and their numbers grew.
The rebellion spread, though not without loss, for the few Wainriders who remained in those lands fought ferociously, and their families too, old Men, women, and young boys. All were well fed, strong, and well equipped. Against previously starved and untrained slaves they proved deadly, yet by their sheer numbers, the Northmen prevailed. The call of freedom spread like a wildfire through the East Bight.
During that time, each day, a Man from Nýr Vera would return to the forest, and he would lead hence those sheltering there so that after a week, refugees began to appear at New Refuge, and they were welcomed by the free Northmen.
Now the rebellion had been successful enough at its start. Most of the villages in the East Bight were liberated, and most of the slaves there were ushered west to freedom. But as they approached the mouth of the bight, not only did the theater of war greatly increase, spreading the rebels too thin, but also the resistance from the Wainriders stiffened. The strategy that had worked well enough in the isolated confines of a pocket gouged out of the forest failed in the wide open grasslands of greater Rhovanion. Word of the rebellion did not spread east as fast as tidings of the insurrection. So 'twas that companies of rebelling slaves were met by cavalry and many were slaughtered.
The spread of the rebellion stalled, and then bit by bit 'twas reversed as increasing numbers of Wainriders counterattacked. By then the survivors of the war with Gondor had returned. They were furious o'er their loss and the taunting of the Northmen in battle. With great hatred they fell upon the rebels, caring not if any survived to work their fields and enrich their o'erlords. The pendulum of revenge had begun to swing against the Northmen.
Finally in Lothron, after two months contesting their ancestral lands, the casualties climbed too high for Captain Hrólfr to justify maintaining the combat. His Men set broad fires in the grass and put to the torch each village as they vacated the bight. By then, most of the enslaved Northmen had fled west or been slain. The Men withdrew to Nýr Vera and the rebellion of 1899 ended. No land had been reclaimed and many slaves had been slain, but many Northmen had been liberated, and many lives of Wainriders had been taken. Though they knew it not upon that day as Hrólfr took a last look back at the burning hamlet, the first to be freed, and then walked away into the forest, his people would ne'er recover their ancestral homelands, and ne'er again ride those grassy plains.
To Be Continued