I sat atop my horse, Sirdal, on a tall plateau overlooking the plains of Redoir. Beside me was Nadow, who was watching the plains below nervously.

   "Do you think this will work?" He asked, turning to look at me. He now wore full battle armor, and all I could see of his face were his eyes through the visor of his helmet.

   "I pray that it does," I replied, casting my gaze upon the rest of my army. They all were there, together. And they were all there because of me. I saw Taryi at the front of the line, wearing newly acquired armor that looked at least two sizes too big for her small frame. She frowned as she fought to adjust her helmet but quickly looked up and smiled when she saw that I was watching. I returned the smile. She was brave, but young. And she had never been in a battle before. I hoped with all my heart that this wouldn't be her last.

   Hadar was at her side, reigning in his feisty steed. Since we began the march here he had been right beside Taryi, never letting her stray far from his sight. He was taking my request to protect her seriously, that much was clear. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement, then went back to calming his horse.

   The two Blues and Caledorn were with General Tariq. The general had lent me several hundred of his men, and they stood in disciplined lines next to my army. They had made little effort to fit in, instead keeping to themselves and barely talking the whole march. They probably thought us odd, since we had quite a variety of individuals in our group. From the beast-riding Bleak Riders to the heavily armored Death Bringers, our group was about as diverse as it got. But at this moment, all of them shared the same feelings: Excitement, anticipation, and fear. Even I felt those same feelings, for the battle that was to come would be the biggest I had ever been in, as well as the most important. This battle would decide the fate of the East.

   Just as that thought ran through my head, a loud horn sounded from down below in the valley. I looked down to see a massive army snaking its way towards us, the voices of officers echoing into the air. I could see that there weren't just Men in that army, but many orcs and even trolls as well. The dull thud of their marching grew louder and louder, until soon the army was just out of arrow range. There it halted, and an ominous silence settled over the battlefield. The only sound to break the silence was the mournful caw of a single nearby crow, and the occasional whinny of a nervous horse.

Three riders broke off from the enemy army and made their way toward us, one of them carrying a white flag. Nadow and I rode ahead, accompanied by our own banner carrier who held the flag of my tribe. As we closed the distance I immediately recognized Lord Khanar, as well as a warg riding orc that I had never seen before. He wore the furs of several different animals, and his jagged armor made him look even bigger. He wore no helmet however, something that was strange for an orc chieftain. Usually their helmets were trophies taken from other chieftains they had killed to climb the ranks.

   "You are an imposter. That flag will be returned to its rightful place when I rip it from your man's lifeless corpse," the massive orc growled.

   "Enough Gothmog! There will be time for that later. And while I agree with you, we have come forth under a white flag. No blood shall be spilt unjustly here," He said. Gothmog rolled his eyes, and it was clear that he thought this whole discussion pointless. "Now, why are you here? And with an army, no less?" Khanar asked.

   "I come to claim what is rightfully mine," I said evenly. Khanar frowned at my words, but immediately forced a false smile.

   "But you have what is yours. You do not have any claim to the throne," Khanar purred.

   "Is that so?" I asked. "Then why did you say that I did? That I would have to 'claim my throne' eventually? Your words, not mine."

   "I'm afraid the throne has been put into my capable hands now. The only heirs to it are my sons, not you. You are no longer anything but a vagrant."

   "Murdering the ruler and taking his throne does not make you leader of the tribe. You are the true imposter, not I!"

Khanar glared at me. "You will see how wrong you are in the battle to come. I have Sauron's host at my command, led by Gothmog, strongest of the orcs."

Mordor's your ally now? When last we talked you said that you were no ally of Sauron as I recall," I said with a smirk. "Yet now here you are, with an army given to you by the very dark lord you scorned and plotted against."

   "Enough! I won't have you lying to my allies in this way," He growled. Gothmog seemed angered by what I had said, and glared at Khanar.

   "We will speak of these allegations after the battle... In Mordor, with my commander, the Witch King." He gave Khanar a twisted smirk, and Khanar paled visibly. Suddenly the third rider, who had until now remained quiet, rode forward. He sat a whole head higher than even the orc Gothmog, and his dark armor accentuated his muscular form.

   "I am Lord Dengesh, ruler of Redoir, the fortress that you are so kindly besieging. I don't care about whatever petty squabbles you and Khanar have. I don't even care if you're the true heir to some pathetic tribe. All I care about is that you have an army at my gates. I will not have that. So prepare your men. They will soon meet their end." With that all three riders turned and rode away, though both Gothmog and Khanar gave me withering glares before they did. I rode back to my army, satisfied that I had managed to get under both of their skins so easily. Their alliance was fragile, that much was clear. Silence returned to the valley, and the wind itself was stilled as though it too was waiting in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Then, a single drum began to beat. A massive troll pushed its way to the front of their line and continued to beat the drum. Then, another troll answered. Soon, the valley was filled with the drumbeats, and the orcs began to chant to the beat. Many of my men began to murmur among themselves, and some were visibly shaken. Taryi was one of them, but when I smiled at her encouragingly she straightened up and narrowed her eyes in determination. I realized that I'd have to boost the morale of the rest of the men somehow.

   I rode to the highest point of the plateau, turning to face my army. They stood before me, men whose faces I recognized, men who had been at my side through all of my struggles to get here.

   "Men of Rhun, Harad, and Khand!" I shouted, drawing all attention to me. "Today we stand on the precipice of battle! And I know that some of you are filled with doubt, fear even, fighting in a land far from home. But I say it now; the fate that is decided here will echo all the way to Khand, to Harad, even into the West! Today, we will decide the course of the future of Men!" I drew my scimitar, raising it into the air. "So today, we fight not as Haradrim, Easterling, or Khanding. Today, we fight as Men! United in purpose against the darkness! For glory! For honor! To victory!"  My horse reared up, and I let out a cry that was echoed by a thousand voices as I charged forward. The ground shook as the Death Bringers took up their places at my side, Nadow to my right. Bellows echoed through the air at the Bleak Riders goaded their war beasts forward, and Ryuna gave me a nod as he rode up to my left.

   "Victory! Victory and honor!" They shouted as one, surging across the plain like an unstoppable flood. I joined in the cry, raising my scimitar aloft and spurring my horse to go ever faster.

   I saw a mass of arrows rise from the enemy ranks, and watched as it descended upon us like a great dark rain. But we would not be hindered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw several riders go down, but none stopped or turned back. I could now see our enemy clearly as we closed in, and I saw that they were afraid. The Death Bringers let out their inhuman battle cry, rushing ahead of the rest of the army in a final burst of speed.

   We collided with their ranks fearlessly, cutting them down where they stood. Howls of fear rose from the orc ranks as they fell in swathes. The great war beasts of the Bleak Riders trampled them underfoot as if they were no more than grass. Cries and howls filled the air as orcs fought each other in a desperate bid to flee, for they would not stand before our fury.

   Suddenly, a great roar sounded loudly over the din of battle. Several heavily armored mountain trolls charged toward us through the fleeing orcs, giant clubs the size of trees in their hands. One swung at our foremost rank, and many of the Death Bringers were thrown clear of their horses. The war beasts of the Bleak Riders did not sway however, and I even saw one rush forward and impale one of the trolls on its massive horn.

   The orcs had turned and were now fighting again, for their resolve had strengthened with the coming of the trolls. I rode toward one with my scimitar in hand, beheading him in a single swift stroke. As I turned to search for another opponent I felt a force hit me, sending me flying into the air and causing me to lose my breath. As I hit the ground I saw a mountain troll approaching me, and Sirdal lay on the ground motionless behind him. I scanned the ground desperately for my scimitar, finally seeing it a few yards away. I ran towards it in an attempt to get to it before the troll got to me, but tripped on a corpse and fell forward. The troll roared and swung his club, barely missing me as I fell. I hit the ground and immediately dove for my scimitar, feeling the cold metal of the pommel against my fingers as I reached for it. I grabbed it and executed a forward roll, avoiding a second strike from the troll. I spun around and leapt back towards it, slicing and managing to land a hit on its stomach.

   It growled, more from anger than pain, and swung a fist at me. I ducked and swung at its arm, cutting deep into its flesh. Though trolls had nigh impenetrable skin on their back and legs, their stomachs and the inside of their arms were unprotected. This had been taught to me by one of my trainers, who had had an interest in the beasts. Though him telling me had seemed pointless at the time, it was now aiding me immensely. As the troll grabbed its arm in pain, I took the opportunity to leap up and slice the massive creature's neck open. It let out a gurgling howl of pain, then collapsed to its knees as blood flowed freely from the fatal wound.

   I didn't take the time to watch it die however, turning to face an orc that was rushing me from behind. I blocked his reckless swing and impaled him on my sword so quickly that he didn't have time to recover. I yanked the scimitar from his lifeless body and searched the battlefield. Nadow and the surviving Death Bringers had almost all been dismounted and were now in a defensive circle, fighting off surging hordes of orcs. Hadar's men, who hadn't had steeds in the first place, had just now reached the battle and were rushing to Nadow's aid. Hadar and Taryi were at their head, leading them forward as they cut down any orcs that got in their way.

   I was somewhat relieved that so far they had only sent orcs to fight us, though I knew this was only because they were disposable. Khanar was using them to exhaust us, and would then send fresh men of his own in to finish us off. Or at least, that's what I assumed he was doing. It was a clever strategy, though he was unaware that we had taken that into account ourselves.

   I ran my fingers along the horn at my side, eager to use it. But I knew that I should wait until the time was right.

    As I surveyed the field one of Nadow's men that had been separated from the rest of the Death Bringers rushed to my side, relief on his face.

   "I'm glad I found you, my prince! I feared that I was alone out here!" He exclaimed breathlessly, his eyes darting back and forth.

   "Well I'm glad you found me as well! We should try to get back to Nadow before we're cut off completely," I said, looking across the field. I saw with relief that Hadar and his men had reunited with Nadow, and they were all fighting as one. The orcs rushed at them, but Nadow and Hadar led their men forward side by side, pushing the enemy back.

   "Quick, let's go!" I cried, turning back to the man who was accompanying me.

   A look of frozen shock was on his face as his eyes widened. He looked down at his stomach, and the jagged blade of a sword was sticking through. I opened my mouth in surprise as he fell forward lifelessly, revealing the crooked grin of his killer, who stood behind him.

   Gothmog.