"M'lord, we cannot advance further! They have us trapped!" A nearby captain shouted as arrows whizzed overhead King Brand's head. Their forces had advanced far, wiping out the enemy in the first three lines of trenches. The fighting had been brutal, and the Easterlings had made the Dalemen and dwarves pay in blood for every inch of ground they took. The first trench had been seized relatively quickly, but Haradrim reinforcements had bogged them down in the second trench, drawing out the fight for most of the day. 

It was now dusk, and still there was no sign of it letting up. Many of the Easterlings had fallen back, but now that it was dark the orc forces of the Sorceress had taken their places. They fought with the strength of fresh soldiers, while the men and dwarves of the Free Peoples were exhausted from a long day of fighting. Brand knew that it was only a matter of time before the enemy made a counterattack into the trenches, and when that happened... Well, it was inevitable that his men would be forced back, possibly beyond the point of recovery. 

"Give the order to dig in, we cannot retreat now," Brand said grimly, surveying the bloody ground in front of the trench. A company of heavily armored dwarves had attempted to move up to the fourth trench, only to be met with withering arrow and crossbow bolt fire. It had been a horrible sight, for every single dwarf was cut down almost immediately. Brand could hear the faint moaning of several who still lived, even though it had now been several hours. The healers would not risk going to their aid, for the enemy was indiscriminate in who they killed. 

He could see several of them in a small room built into the trench, working desperately to save a wounded Daleman. Several men and dwarves waited outside, each of them injured in some way. One man had a bloodied bandage covering both eyes, and one of the dwarves was cradling the stump where his leg once was. There were too few healers... If the fighting continued on much longer, many men would die from loss of blood or infection. Brand wondered if the situation was any better for the enemy. 

He turned and picked his way carefully down the trench, stepping over the mangled bodies that hadn't yet been thrown over into no-mans-land. His boots sank deep into the mud, which was tinted dark red with blood. He passed several soldiers on his way, their hollow, haunted gazes following him as he went by. The light of a full moon made them look pale and ghostly; He gave an involuntary shudder and quickly looked away. He had ordered them to stay awake and battle-ready, and already his choice had affected them for the worse. They were already tired from a long day of fighting, and he had no doubt they resented him for denying them a night of rest. But the enemy was less than a hundred yards away; They couldn't afford to let up their guard. 

The dwarves, for the most part, were encamped on the side of the trench closest to the gates, but they fared little better. Most of them huddled in small groups, grumbling among themselves as pipesmoke rose above them. Though they didn't look nearly as exhausted as the men, many of them were asleep, and those that weren't leaned on their weapons for support. Brand shook his head. They weren't ready for the enemy. If the Easterlings launched a counterattack, the dwarves would be ill-prepared to defend against it. 

He found Dain in a wooden dugout, where most of his strongest warriors had gathered to plan their next move. 

"Ah, Brand! Come in, come in, this information is important to you as well!" Dain said, waving the king in. Gloin and Dwalin both gave slight bows, and the other dwarves followed suit. 

"We can't rightly continue the assault through the night," Dain began with a huff. "The boys are tired, they won't do much more good out there. But when dawn comes... That's when we'll move." 

"Half of your men are asleep," Brand replied somewhat angrily. "What if the enemy-"

Suddenly a cry rose from far down the trench. 

"They're coming! To arms!" 

Brand looked over the lip of the trench, his eyes widening in fear. Nearly two dozen armored trolls were rushing over the burnt ground between the trenches, clubs raised high. Behind them, hundreds of Easterlings took up a shrill, eery battlecry as their armor shone in the light of the full moon. They looked inhuman in their bronze helmets, their scaled armor giving them an almost reptilian appearance. 

The dwarven forces scarcely had time to reach for their weapons before the enemy was on them. The first Easterling to leap into the trench immediately impaled a dwarf who had removed his armor to sleep. He screamed as the halberd pierced him, falling into the muddy water with a splash. Two more Easterlings jumped down, and as they advanced forward they drew long scimitars. Several of the unarmed dwarves turned and fled while others who had time to secure their weapons covered them. The first Easterling let out a fierce cry as he thrust his weapon at another dwarf. The dwarf, who had been asleep moments before, reacted with an exaggerated block that missed the halberd completely. His life too was cut miserably short, and the Easterling gave a shout of triumph as he pulled his weapon free. 

Brand ran forward, locking blades with one of the other Easterlings. The warrior leapt backward, slashing quickly as he moved. Brand blocked the attack and advanced with an aggressive combination that put the Easterling in retreat down the trench. The uneven ground caused him to stumble, and as he fell Brand quickly covered the distance. He rose his sword to strike the killing blow, but a massive foot stomped down on top of the Easterling and crushed him. At the same time, a meaty hand slammed into Brand's chest, knocking him into the trench wall with a sickening crunch. The last thing he saw before his vision darkened was the ugly grey face of a troll. 

==============================

The Next Morning

"Look at me! Look! It's going to be okay, you're okay, you're safe!" 

Gilian shook uncontrollably, her eyes red with tears. Gerithor knelt beside her, attempting as best as he could to help her. He held her hand in his own, and with his other hand he attempted to slow the bleeding in his side.

 Though most of the townspeople had escaped, Gerithor and several other rangers had been cut off by the orcs when they had reached the narrow pass the rest had taken. When it had become clear that they would not be able to get through, they had fought their way back to the postern gate itself, and after a day and a night of fighting, they had finally managed to bar it shut. 

They had barely made it. Gerithor had been stabbed in the side as he attempted to close the gate. Gilian had fought bravely, but now that there had been a short lull in the fighting the horror and brutality of it all had taken their toll. Ingold, Malbeth, and Thorongil had fallen outside the gate, brave rangers all. Now, only four still lived, and they stood against a countless horde of orcs. 

"Gerithor, it's hopeless," Duilin, one of the surviving rangers, said. He had suffered a slash across the face, and his arm hung limp at his side from a club wound. Hallas, the other ranger, nodded in agreement. 

"We might as well open the gate and fight, we will not survive to the sunset," he said. He was an older ranger, and often took a realistic, if not often negative, approach to most things. Gerithor, however, shook his head as he ran a hand through Gilian's hair. She pulled away, her eyes filled with fright. 

"Gilian, it's me! You're safe here," he said gently. 

"It's too late," Duilin said as he watched grimly. "The battle fear strikes the young ones hardest. She won't be of any use to us now. We might as well leave her." 

Gerithor spun around, anger flashing across his features. "Hold your tongue. We never leave each other behind, and so long as I draw breath we will all stay together. Is that understood?" 

"Aye," Duilin said, his eyes not meeting those of the other ranger. 

"Gerithor..." Hallas began, running a weathered hand through his long grey hair. "As much as I'd like to hold to our ideals, we have to be realistic about this. Here we stand, four rangers against an army. For all we know, the Dalemen and dwarves could be dead by now. Two of us are injured, and the third is in shock. I'd rather die a gallant death in battle than die holed up in a dark, gloom-ridden hallway like a cornered rat, hunted down by our enemies. I'm going out there."

Gerithor looked down, his eyes welling up with tears. Had he failed them all? Was this the loyalty he would be repaid with? 

"Go then. May Eru watch over you." 

Hallas nodded to Duilin. "Let's go. Good luck, Gerithor." 

The two rangers disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, leaving Gerithor and Gilian alone. Gerithor wiped the tears away, struggling to keep his composure for Gilian's sake. He couldn't tell if she was even aware of where she was, but if she was he wanted her to feel safe. 

Suddenly he heard a cry down the hallway. He recognized the voice as Duilin's. 

Before he even had a chance to react, a large orc barreled down the hallway. How he had gotten in, Gerithor didn't know. But it all happened in a blur. The orc saw Gerithor and charged. The next moment, the orc was impaled on Gerithor's sword, and the ranger was crying uncontrollably. He let the orc fall to the ground with a crash and collapsed to his knees, letting the tears flow freely. Images flashed through his mind of the men and orcs alike that he had killed that day. He saw Ingold, his face nearly severed in half and his eyes wide with surprise as an Easterling pulled his blade free of his skull. He saw Gilian kill her first man, and the look of horror that crossed her face when she saw what she had done. 

He slowly crawled to Gilian's side and slumped against the wall, raising a bloodied hand in front of his eyes. He watched as it went in and out of focus, his head thundering with pain. 

"Are you there?" Gilian suddenly asked, her voice filled with fear. Gerithor nodded and reached for her hand, his voice hoarse as he spoke. 

"I'm here, don't worry. You're not alone." 

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Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is a little shorter, wasn't sure how to divide the next section up. The battle spans several days, so it's pretty long. Hope you guys like the first part! Even if it's a little brutal.