The keen thrill of battle still coursed through my veins, even after the last of the enemy had retreated. However, as I glanced around and began counting our losses, it began to slowly recede, leaving me flushed and breathless.


Still scattered on the battlefield, three of our men lay dead, crimson blood tarnishing their armor. Around twenty green-clad men littered the field, their bodies stained heavily with their own blood, seeping into their cloaks and hair. It had been a relatively clean victory for us, fortunately. But how had they found us in the first place? How had they known where we were camped? Suddenly hearing footsteps, I turned to see a soldier approaching me. He wore the distinctive red scarf of an officer, the thin cloth fluttering loosely in the wind.


"Your bravery today is commendable," he said in a thick Rhunic accent that I almost couldn't understand. "I shall tell Lord Khanar of it. Well done son." Heartily, he clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it in praise. And, though I couldn't see most of his face, the wrinkles around the man's eyes indicated that he was smiling.


"Thank you sir," I said, and saluted crisply. The officer readily saluted back, then turned on his heel and trotted off; to check up on the rest of the men, I assumed. Sighing, I glanced around once more. Hadar stood over the body of an enemy soldier a short distance away. A mournful look was on his face as he stared down... almost guiltily.


Brow furrowing in slight confusion, I made my way over to him, sheathing my sword. Around us, Easterlings took the bodies away one by one.


"It is a sad thing," Hadar murmured as I approached, almost as if talking to himself. "That one should die so young, and so far from home." Interested in my friend's train of thought, I followed Hadar's gaze to the enemy soldier's face. The man was no older than me, and had flowing brown hair. What once would have been rather well-kempt, was now matted with dark blood. The young man's countenance was frozen in fear, as though he had felt much pain in his last moments.


"Why must we fight one another endlessly?" Hadar asked rhetorically. "Nobody wins. This man lost his life, was cut down before he could truly live his life. And I survived. But next time it may be me that dies. Someone always dies." Sighing softly, he looked meaningfully up at me.
"Are these men truly evil? Are they responsible for the sins of their ancestors?" Feeling a spring of emotion well up in my stomach, I didn't answer, instead looking down at the ground. I wasn't quite sure why his words were so... meaningful. They were just said with so much conviction. But more than that, I knew deep down that he was right.  Wincing, I pushed the thought away. If it were true, I had the blood of innocents on my hands... And that wasn't something I was willing to accept at the moment.


"Listen to me Rukil!" Hadar exclaimed, firmly placing a bloodied hand on my shoulder. He shook me gently for emphasis. "Why are we even fighting? What possible reason is there for this to go on?" My head snapped up and I locked eyes with him.


"Because we have a sense of duty to our country! Our country relies on us to keep them safe! You may not understand, you're a mercenary... but I do." Hadar's eyes widened in disbelief.


"The country that enslaved you? The country that killed your friend? You're choosing to side with a country that has done more evil than you can account for! When did you deceive yourself into believing you owe them anything? They murdered someone close to you, and you're just going to stand with them?" His words burned, and I felt the familiar feeling of defensiveness rise within me, tying a knot in my stomach. 


"Do not speak of that. Do not!" Eyes flashing in rage, I turned stiffly and strode away. Who was he to speak like that? He didn't understand... However, deep down, there crawled a small worm of doubt. Something that could not be ignored. But I pushed it away, not willing to believe that I was fighting for an evil cause. If I believed that, I'd have nothing to fight for. And I had to fight.


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


The next morning we continued our march. The sun rose in the east as it always did, its soft, golden light fighting to break through the thick fog that rested idly on the plain. It was almost beautiful.


As we walked, the brittle dirt crunched under our feet, creating a cloud of dust behind us. At first no one minded at all; however, it did become an issue at midday.


We had just come to an area where the road grew wider, and the landscape was greener. Suddenly, we heard the orcs take off at a run, hurrying past on either side in a blur. Disregarding the marching order. they loped past us into the front of the line, causing the whole army to falter. The steady march stopped.


"Halt!!" An Easterling officer shouted. The lines paused in their step -at least the ones who hadn't already had to stop because of the interference. We all stood in confusion, unsure of what would take place.  


The orc's leader was a brute named Urgbûz. Despite his hunched, bowlegged stance he stood a full head taller than any of us, making him a rather intimidating Orc. He stepped forward confidently, approaching Lord Khanar.


"We wants a spot in the front of the line," Urgbûz declared, making a strange choking sound in his throat. Lord Khanar looked demeaningly down at him from atop his black steed.


"I have assigned you to the back. You're under my orders." Obviously unsatisfied by this, Urgbûz growled and spat on the ground near the Lord's feet. Khanar didn't even blink.


"Ach! I don't much like yer orders, and neither do my boys over here." He sneered disrespectfully at the Easterling.


"Immediately, as one great crowd, we all drew our swords in defense, the sound of steel being pulled from its scabbards filling the air. It was rather intimidating, and we numbered more than them. Now uncertain, the Orc looked at us in fear, and with no small amount of disgust. But he wasn't going to risk his life. Not now.


"Fine!" He muttered stiffly. "But know 'dis, a happy soldier is a good soldier." With that he ordered his foul company back, and they passed us with growls and sneers. We kept our swords in hand, brandishing them at the orcs.


"We'll have no more insubordination!" Lord Khanar shouted to still the clamor. "The next to disobey or challenge orders will be executed!" He glared back at Urgbûz, who suddenly started studying a spot on the ground below him. Seeing the sudden quiet, Khanar nodded and swung his horse around. We continued our march. Naturally, there were no further incidents.


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

Third person

Boromir watched carefully, staring over the white walls of Cair Sirion with a trained eye. The land around the city was unfamiliar to him, as he hadn't been there often. Below him, he could see the Anduin flowing along the northeast of the city, and he listened idly to the sound of its constant roar.


This was a beautiful city. Cair Sirion, tall and majestic, was one of the northernmost cities of Gondor. And being in the north, it had its fill of strange characters. Dwarves often came through, selling wares and purchasing the fine jewelry that the city was known for. And on occasion, they even came to live there. Men and women of Rohan were also a frequent sight. The city was situated at the meeting of the Entwash and the Anduin, and so many people found it an easy place to come and stay. But its distant location also made it a prime target for enemies.


It had been pillaged and rebuilt too many times to count. However, the people were proud to say that it was now the strongest it had ever been.


Despite this, Boromir was still worried. Gondor's forces were stretched thin as it was. But if they won here -and that was a big if- they could possibly be strong enough to retake Osgiliath. But that was a far distant hope. That was something that would only happen if they didn't lose too many men. Yet, if they lost... the Anduin would be under Sauron's control. Boromir couldn't let that happen.


He was pulled away from his thoughts when he saw movement outside. Ten men approached the city gates at a run, clearly tired. Their cloaks were torn and bloodied, and some of them ran with distinct limps. One of the men in particular, he recognized well.


"Faramir! What happened?" Boromir cried from atop the wall, his voice booming across the plain. The gates creaked open and Faramir ran through, looking disheveled and fearful. He had obviously come from a fight. Quickly, Boromir descended the stairs and met him in the courtyard.


"Their forces are strong, very strong. And well trained. These are no mere tribesmen we face," Faramir explained breathlessly, distress written on his face. It was clear he and his men had run the whole way.


"Slow down brother. How many are there? Were you able to get a count?" Boromir asked, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Faramir looked him in the eyes.


"Yes, but it isn't good. There are around six hundred Easterlings. They have Southron mercenaries, perhaps about fifty. And there are a hundred orcs. They have more than doubled our own forces here." Faramir looked at his brother grimly. Nodding, the older brother observed Faramir's garrison. Or, what was left of it.


   "How did so few of you survive?" He asked, changing the subject. There was less than half of what he had sent his brother out with.


   "The Easterlings recovered from our ambush quickly and launched a counterattack. We wouldn't have survived but for..." He trailed off thoughtfully.


   "But for what?" Boromir pressed, his brow furrowing.


   "It's nothing." Faramir said evasively. Boromir frowned, but respected his younger brothers space. When he wanted to tell him, he would. And rushing it would do nothing for him.


   "I'm glad you're alive, at any rate." Smiling, he put an arm around his little brother. He didn't know what he'd have done if Faramir had been apart of the casualties. It would've likely killed him inside.


   "We should send a messenger to tell father," Faramir said meekly, averting his gaze to the ground. Boromir sighed quietly. He knew his little brother couldn't possibly take another lecture from their father. Not now.


   "Nonsense, he doesn't need to know. We'll just tell him that an enemy army is on the move." Boromir waved it off with a shrug, leading them to the top of the wall.  


   As they both watched the forest on the other side of the river, there was a small silence. A good silence, despite everything they were going through.


   "They'll need boats if they mean to cross," Faramir observed suddenly. "That, or they'll cross north of the city, and attack from the west." Boromir glanced over at the western wall, which was significantly smaller and weaker, and silently agreed. Faramir had a point.


   "Then we can't let them cross," He added firmly.


   "You're right. But we do not have enough men to face them in open battle. We'll have to send what's left of your men to harry them if they attempt the crossing." Faramir raised an eyebrow.
   "I don't have enough men to effectively hold them."


   "You have enough to make the crossing difficult for them. Then you can retreat back to the city and-" he stopped abruptly.


   "What is it-" Faramir anxiously followed Boromir's gaze, and his jaw dropped. The Easterlings had come.


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


Rukil's POV

   The city stood tall on the far side of the river, gleaming white in the sunlight. I stood calmly with the rest of the formation, watching from our vantage point on the bank of a river. We looked expectantly out at the city across from us, observing its exterior and surrounding lands. It had to be admitted, the structure was impressive. Large, white sunbleached walls were the first thing I saw, followed by a dark banner that bore a White Tree. It waved proudly on the ramparts, whipping and fluttering in the crisp wind. I could also see the outline of two men atop the wall. They seemed to be speaking to each other.

At the moment, they seemed oblivious to our arrival. But suddenly we were noticed, and one of them jumped in surprise, pointing and yelling at us. His voice alerted other soldiers.
Pushing ahead of us, Lord Khanar rode briskly to the front of the line, ten of his bodyguards trailing behind him. The feared Kataphrakts. Their horses were massive, heavily muscled from flank to neck and covered in scaled golden armor. Two curved horns protruded from their metal masks, giving them a demonic appearance. They were something to be feared. While the horses seemed menacing and evil, even they could not compare to their riders. The men on top were just as, if not more, intimidating than their dark steeds. They wore helmets similar to our own, though horns protruded from them that matched those of their mounts. The armor on their shoulders spiked upward, making the men appear taller than they already were.


The Kataphrakts carried long, cruel lances that bore the banner of Rhun. They were a fitting bodyguard, especially to one so majestic as their lord. At the head, Khanar turned and faced us, his eyes filled with fire and determination. He knew how he wanted this day to end.


"My loyal men! Today, we have the honor of being the vanguard! The first to fight! Take pride in yourselves." He paused, as if to savor the moment. A buzz of uncertainty and excitement ran through the group. "For after us, after what happens today, war will follow! A great war! Some of you have never been in a battle. Some of you have never killed. Some of you don't want to take lives." Once again Khanar paused in his speech, drawing it out meaningfully. He wanted to make sure everyone understood, and heard him clearly. This was not a speech made on a whim. This was important.


"But today, you will! Killing is not desirable, nor is it always right. But, you must understand; sometimes, it must be done! Sometimes, we have no choice. And that is not shameful. Today is one such time! Blood will be spilled, many on both sides will die! But, I will do my best to assure that the city runs red; not with our blood, but with theirs! Remember your families! Remember your people! And most importantly, remember this day which will be remembered as the beginning of the Final War!" The crowd cheered, the roar rising to a deafening clamor. I readily joined in with my comrades, the cries sweeping me away. Together, as one unit, we raised our mighty weapons and shields, rattling them together. I was sure the people of that city were shaking in their boots if they hadn't been already. Wearing a look of steely determination, Lord Khanar raised his sword into the air... and the Battle of Cair Sirion began.