A cold wind blows in from the east, bringing with it the foul smell of orcs. Faramir shivers under his cloak and armour, but stands tall, a pillar of strength and fearlessness. It is for the benefit of his men; he will never allow what fears exist within him to show. For if he wavers, even for an instant, his army will break behind him. They are militia, given rudimentary training and thrown into garrison duty. But this day, they are the first defense against the greatest threat Gondor has seen in decades, an army of orcs led by not one, but two Nazgul. The swishing of oars can be heard now, as the orcs come across the mist-covered river in boats. An oppressive silence hangs over the battlefield, dragging down the spirits of the already frightened Gondorians. It is this silence which Faramir breaks, his voice booming over the city to be heard by friend and foe alike.
“Men of Gondor!” he shouts. “You did not ask to be here. You did not choose to face the wrath of evil which we now face. But it has fallen upon you. And you will hold! We will stand here, and make the river run black with orc blood. As we speak, my father, your Steward, is gathering the reserves in our great city. He will come! My brother, Boromir, leads our main army south with all possible haste. He will come! And you will HOLD!!! For your honor, for your wives and children, you will hold! For GONDOR!!!”
A great cry goes up, so loud and fierce that the orcs on the boats look at each other and feel doubt for the first time. But they still fear their leaders more than they fear their enemies, so they come. Battle is joined. Hundreds of orcs and men perish, soaking the ruined city in blood. The Gondorians make the orcs pay for every inch of ground, but they are slowly pushed back by superior numbers. Still they fight on, Faramir himself slaying dozens of orcs with bow and sword. Denethor’s arrival bolsters the defenders, as the Steward leads a devastating charge into the southern flank of Mordor’s army. But it is not enough, and by late afternoon Gondor’s forces are pushed to the brink.
At last, horns sound from the north, and over the rise appears a glorious sight—the main Gondorian army has arrived. Elite troops experienced in combat and clad in the finest armour, they ignore their own exhaustion from their long march, and join the battle in earnest. The orcs resist for a time, but the number and desperation of the Gondorians proves too much, and what remains of Mordor’s army breaks and flees back to the eastern side of Osgiliath, harried all the way to the boats their jubilant adversaries.
Denethor and his sons hold a council of war, and quickly decide to annihilate the defeated orcs before they can be reinforced. Sentries are posted to ensure that the orcs do not attempt to sneak away during the night. The rise of the sun will bring another glorious day for Gondor!