"Where is lord Dinethor? I have been told that he did face the orcs in a terrible battle but still lived to tell the tale. Yet nobody seems to know any details."
"All will be explained, Cirion."
"Yes, please forgive my impertinence."
"Indeed, Dinethors fate is not to be shared with anyone outside this present company. The reasons will become quite clear. But first, I should continue where Daugon left. Arador did find the orcs ready for him, now occupying the hill and ridge that they had so neatly circumvented early that day. Seeing their line of spearmen unsupported by archers in the front Arador reacted according to protocol and paused to let his archers do their work. Unfortunately his force was like the others severely outmatched in terms of ranged capabilities.
Arador himself fell to a bolt from a ballista. So did his second and third in command, having taken up their prescribed stations next to him. Without proper leadership, fear was infecting the army and none had the stomach to sound the advance against that imposing hill. Casualties were mounting and everyone covered behind their shield waiting for the flames to stop raining.
It was a disaster, no, this was nothing else than humiliation.
When the orcs eventually charged and scattered the remains less than 400 escaped of an army of over 2800. The enemy casualties were by all accounts negligible, probably no more than four dozen.
Dinethor, meanwhile, had been readying his southernmost forces near Tir Ethraid. He was met by the scattered remnants of his three northern armies. He has assured me that he did not for a moment disbelieve them, their despair was so profound and so sincere that it dispelled all possible doubt. He marched his men north immediately, with little hope except for revenge for the great shame suffered at the orcs hands."
"But why didn't lord Dinethor call for reinforcements, now that he had had word of the magnitude of the threat the enemy posed?"
"That he should perhaps had done. But far easier is it to realize from far away than in the moment, when the failure overwhelms you and the men under you. Dinethors force was the core, with the highest proportion of professional troops, seasoned regulars with good equipment. They marched swiftly expecting battle to be joined soon but found the orc army returning north again. Dinethor sent word for the few settlers to prepare to evacuate Ithilien in case he would fail and continued north with all speed, to catch up with the orc at every cost, to the point that he did not even stay to retake the burned shell of Ostithil that now served as an enemy encampment. And eventually they did, or if the orcs had been reinforced and turned south again. For whatever reason, both armies met in the highlands north of Ostithil.
The highlands are as you no doubt know quite barren, with only grass and stubby bushes growing, between the occasional valley with a stream and trees around. On one such stony hill the orcs held the high ground but this actually worked in our men's' favor. For the hill was so steep that their catapults could not aim at our men below and even their archers had great trouble to aim properly, letting many arrows fly inaccurately from the sky.
Dinethors cavalry managed to surprise the orcs and initially charged the catapults and scattered the orcs manning them. However, they soon came upon those manned by trolls, and orcs with axes and long hammers surged around them. To make matters worse, the catapults themselves acted as an effective barrier, impeding the advance of half of the companies.
Further down, our infantry marched up in a dense column, which worked well now that they could not be hit by the enemy artillery. Dinethor had many mailed infantrymen and troops from the fleets in Pelargir and from Lossarnach, seasoned marine infantry and city guards. Their advance was a slow grind upwards, bleeding with each step, but so did the foe. Orcs with axes and bows blocked the trail, aided by the great trolls. but our men cut a path up to the plateau.
Here the resistance stiffened and Dinethor sent his reserve cavalry and his bodyguard to break the orc lines. Their infantry was spent and almost broken, and some of them indeed turned and ran from his wrath."
There was a deep silence in the room. None of the listeners had heard how the story truly ended.
"The enemy then withdrew his archers, keeping our men occupied with the trolls meanwhile. A few of them seemed more eager to close in than others, it would seem that not all are trained for handling their catapults. Their strength was terrible and Dinethors ranks were thinning out dangerously. Still his men stood fast against Mordor and our own archers were sending torched arrows against the enemy, hoping to make the trolls run amok. For a time it seemed that our force might still break through but then the arrows and the clubs of the trolls were thinning out our lines more and more. Our push had lost its momentum in the blood and dirt on that now very slippery slope.
Even in defeat, our soldiers held together to the last. For myself, I believe this to be in no small part due to lord Dinethor still being alive. But they were taking grievous losses and being forced down the hillside step by step. Lord Dinethor attempted to cover the retreat as best he could but he had his horse cut down under beneath him and fell to the ground with many wounds, being dragged along by the orc chieftains bodyguard.
With the army broken, the enemy ran down some of our men that were retreating but luckily they lack any cavalry and their trolls, while fast, were exhausted. Dinethor has told that he was dragged to the orc chieftain himself."
The listeners shifted uncomfortably. The notion of having a senior commander taken captive was something unheard of for decades, let alone by filthy orcs.
"This chieftain is of course of colossal interest to us given the grief he has inflicted upon our people and our lands. I am therefore very glad that Dinethor choose to accept his offer."
"What are you saying!? My lord, pardon me, but I know about lord Dinethor, he would never..."
The tall officer nodded with a grim expression.
"Contrary to previous battles, where thankfully few of our men ended up as prisoners, the orcs did spare them this time. Their chieftain sent four of Dinethors closest retainers yet alive with demands of gold for the lives of the prisoners."
"How would they do that!?"
"Treason!"
"Flaming curs!"
The collective outbursts earned each speaker a disapproving glance.
"Have you not already grasped, gentlemen, the magnitude of this? Have not Daugons tale left at least a speck of impression on your minds that this is something we have not seen before? Be thankful that we have the knowledge that we do, and that 151 of our brothers could return home. Besides, would you rather this army was known but as the ghostly bringers of fire that it had so far been? Dinethor, while he failed, did prove that whatever the novelties of their organization and tactics the enemy is still just orcs and trolls and they die like any other."
"With all due respect, my lord, is this perhaps not colored by the wishful thinking of the defeated?"
An odd smile seemed to twitch in the corner of the lords mouth.
"If our side is not to be taken as a credible source, what would you say about the other ones opinion, Aravir?"
"Please, I do not follow you at all, my lord."
"Believe it or not, Dinethor actually spoke of the orc chieftain commending the viciousness of our men, speaking with what seemed like pride and admiration of the fact that over 500 of his men lay dead, even though it had come at the cost of above three times that number. In his words, he was pleased to have found a whiteskin worth fighting and would not see such an opportunity wasted.
But Dinethor is not a cur, nor a traitor, that can be flattered or intimidated by mere words. However, he did out of pride and defiance declare who he was when brought before the chieftain, and the chieftain argued that only by accepting the offer of ransoming would he be able to save the people of the now exposed and defenseless Amon Eithel from complete destruction. None other of the prisoners with ties to the town had the rank and influence that would be required to convince the people of the necessity to abandon their homes and flee west and north to Gondor proper. So Dinethor in the end sent trusted companions to ask his kin in Amon Eithel for the gold to ransom him and his men from the orcs. And that they did."
"I do not know all that took place and what was felt or heard by those who were there. It is not my place to judge them. But whatever we may think of lord Dinethors actions it is a relief that the town was saved, for the men and women of it should not suffer for the deeds of another."
A round of approving nods and murmur seconded the statement.
"A noble sentiment, Cirion. Alas, it is already too late for that. Whether it was due to carelessness or treason, or simply the sight of so many families leaving hurriedly, word spread to the Haradrim tribes of the south and seeing how little of our troops were in the area a band of the Southrons mounted an attack one night. The few defenders were cut down. The town was looted.
Dinethor arrived with a handful of retainers a few days later after hard riding and was greeted with nothing but the despair and shame of the ruined town. Do not judge Dinethor harshly. Thanks to him, we know what we are facing. And for whatever faults of his, the man has suffered enough.
Now, it falls to us to avenge our fallen and remove this blight upon the world that takes the shape of an orc!"
"Yes, lord Duinhir!"
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to rede I me delyte
Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Orcs Tale - Chapter I - VIII
Being tortured by heartless ghosts is such a nuisance!
Frothy Goodness
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