By David Kuijt
Come now ye people of fair Minas Tirith,
I'll sing you the saga of Forlong the Fat
Ring-giving lord, land-loving and loyal,
Kinsman of Gondor, oath-keeper, orc-slayer.
Yo! This is a battle report!
Came now to battle the liegemen of Lossarnach,
Spearmen of Harlond, hardy henchmen, harness bearing,
Woven war-sarks. Axemen also, two-handed halberds,
Hearts welling with war-hate, hasty blood-spillers.
Some bore cruel crossbows, deadly dart-throwers,
War-cunning warriors, clever-planning, cool-headed.
Some few of these rode warsteeds, ever-courageous
Fleet-footed, Sleipnir's offspring
On one side was the Gondor Army of Lossarnach (DBA Later Swiss, in this case): 4x Pike, 5x Blades (halberds), 2 Psiloi, and one Light Horse.
Arrayed against them hateful hordes of Mordor,
Invading army, sheen-mailed spoilers, bloody-toothed foes,
Goblins, base bondsmen to the Lidless Eye.
Dark were their banners, keen weapons, foul breath.
Not alone stood they, but allies stood with them,
Scale-skinned monsters, terrible trolls.
Teeth-gnashers, dread horse-tall foes, body-devouring,
Longest-lived of loathsome race in fleshly fold!
On the other side was an Orc army, as follows: 4 Warband, 4 Auxilia, 2 Psiloi, 1 Trolls (DBA Elephant), 1 Heavy Chariot. The Orcs set up with the Uruk-Hai and one supporting unit of Goblin Archers in column on a road lancing at the heart of the expected enemy formation, a wall of Auxilia/Trolls/Chariot/Psiloi on the clear side of the river, and a small wall of 3 Auxilia ready to support on either side (but starting on the far side from the enemy).
Sage counsel took Forlong, wise he in war-ways,
Arraying his forces against these foul foes.
Outnumbered badly, betting on boldness,
Gave orders of cunning, danger and risk.
"Forces against us are split by the river,
so must we strike them before They are joined.
Even afoot we must march forward boldly,
trusting to Ash-shafts 'gainst goblins and trolls.
"Small are our chances if orcs get behind us;
the brook blocks our flank well, but here is a bridge.
This bridge is the key to the heart of our war-plan,
if we can hold it for just long enough.
The field was split by a creek with two roads running across it, and several small patches of woods dispersed along its length.
"Come now the hunters, wielders of war-darts,
Your role is simple, harrass and delay.
Hold the brook-banks down there by the bridge-side;
If orcs would cross it, with their lives make them pay.
"One company of axemen is needed there also,
To stand at the bridge-crest and pay with their lives.
Heavy hangs my heart for a war-plan so cruel;
Small hope can I offer that these men shall return."
The Swiss took one stand of Blades, flanked by two stands of Psiloi, and blocked one bridge.
Now brave-spoke the ranger, Mablung of Ithilien,
Experienced war-leader, Faramir's kin
Long had he battled 'gainst orcspawn and Southron,
Never before councilled any retreat:
"Speak not of danger, do not be down-heartened.
The foul touch of orc-feet burns Ithilien's soul.
Make up your bridge guard, and I will command it.
Mourn me not if I die there; your success will avenge me."
Orc-drums then thundered, calling to battle,
Driving the ravens up into the sky,
Waiting they were for the onslaught of war-play
Harsh cawing fought loud against bold battle-cry.
The orc Warband charged down the road at a tremendous pace, slowing only just as they reached the bridge so as to widen their formation. They crossed the bridge to be met by the bridge guard of one Blades and two Psiloi.
The fighting at the bridge raged heavy -- initially the human Blades threw the Uruk-hai back across the bridge, allowing them to take the most defensible position possible in spite of the initial orcish rush. To one side a Psiloi held back two stacked Uruk-Hai units at the river, but their bravery could not last forever, and soon the Uruk-Hai had pushed across the shallows and threw back the Psiloi, only to have it come forward again, and again, attempting to delay the Orcish charge.
Now came hand-fray of heroes, gladding the ravens.
Sword-song ensued; spear-play and slaughter.
Onward marched Forlong, abandoning his rearguard,
Heavy his heart for what he must do.
On the opposite flank the remaining Pike and Blades trundled forward, attempting to close with the units ahead of them before their flank was entirely turned and vulnerable by the fall of the bridge.
On came brave Forlong, dread foe attacking;
Battle-line ready for the game to be played.
Against him were arrayed the demons of darkness;
Foul goblin archers, trolls and yet worse.
War-wains came forward, wheels rolling thunder,
scythe-wheeled and deadly, pulled by fierce boars.
Sharp-tusked they were, red-eyed and nasty,
bristled and noxious, straining to fight.
Orcs rode within them, heavy-armed and hardy;
Shield-walls had they splintered, often before.
Spear-orcs and bow-orcs with black shafted arrows,
Red fletching sprouting like flowers from throats.
The trolls were desperately unmanageable, and finally the two lines met. In a fierce bid to end the battle at once, the Orcish Chariot charged the human Commander, Forlong, and his axes. Note that the battle used the house rule that Blades are quick-killed by Knights! The whole flank hinged on this one attack (+3 Knights to +4 Blades, with the Knights having a quick-kill).
The orc-wall came forward, battle-ready and raging.
Axemen of Lossarnach thought death would o'erwhelm them;
Quailed at the sight, no longer doom-seeking.
Then forward came the stout Lord of Lossarnach,
Stern he of mood now at crux of the battle,
Wakening war-hate with words like these here:
"Stand, Liegemen, Stand! No horse now can save you!
To turn and run now would surely mean doom!"
The Blades rolled a 1...
Stout blows he gave to the heads or the backsides
Of those who were shaking, fear-ridden or base.
Heartened, his men held, haughty henchmen of Harlond.
Drove back the war-wains, a brief respite gained.
...But the Blades held (Orcish Heavy Chariot rolled a 2). It was a push (nobody recoils or dies).
Beside them the pikemen made up a great slaughter,
Spear-dance of death, sinking spear-heads in troll-guts.
Troll-fierceness took them quickly to battle-rage;
Unheeding their commanders they charged and were slain.
Beside the Blades the Pikes slaughtered a unit of Trolls (+7 to +3 -- don't try this at home), and the Orcish Bow were driven back by the Blades they faced.
Then shouted Forlong with joy and new orders;
Orc-line was broken, war-wains given pause.
Spear of Lossarnach charged in at their flank-sides,
Attacked in concert with the axemen ahead.
Thus fell the War-wains, and goblin-bow beside them,
Hemmed in by spear-hedge, chopped down by halberds.
Orcs fled toward river, cowardly curs,
Craven throats choking on vain boasts and fear.
The next turn everything fell apart for the Orcs -- a double overlap against the Chariot put it at +1 to +4 with no retreat, and it died. The Orcish Bow (Psiloi) were hit in front by Blades and from behind by the Mounted Crossbow (Light Horse) and at +1 to +5 died.
The far flank was looking very shaky, though, and finally the Uruk-Hai broke and destroyed the Blade that was holding the bridge. The Orc Commander finally demoralized and routed one human Psiloi unit, and it ran to half-way towards the human camp. A single Psiloi was blocking the flank.
But the human main force had the advantage. A wall of spears charged the orc auxilia trying to find refuge in the rough, and the predictable happened -- (doubled pikes +6 against lapped auxilia +2). The orcs had lost four units, and they withdrew. The Orcish commander, Shagrat, gnashed his teeth -- he had won his flank, but lost the battle. Even with the enemy baggage almost within reach, he had to withdraw or be caught on the wrong side of the river. He'd lost four elements.
Great was the victory, and the Orc-horde retreated.
But the price was not easy for Lossarnach men.
Huntsmen of Harlond brought Forlong a litter;
inside it lay Mablung, near to his death.
"Weep not, Forlong! For it is as I foretold,
And we were o'erthrown, but never in vain.
For the Uruk-hai reached not the flank of our army,
And their assault on the bridge will burn them like a glede.
"I have bite of brand in my blood and must slumber.
Sorrows were wrought here, but I am avenged.
Bright billows welled blood in all the brook's shallows,
Many the hero that died there that day."
Barrow was raised there, close by the bridge-fight,
Green grew the grass where Mablung was laid rest.
Many the orc-corpses dragged to a bonfire;
Flames touched the lowering clouds when they burned.
Hastened the hardy one, henchmen walked with him,
Hale from the hero-play homeward they strode.
With haste in the hall, by Denethor's order,
Room for the rovers was readily made.
Bright burn the beacons still down in Ithilien,
Orc-horde turned back there, but only for a time.
Soon come more hordes across mountains from Mordor,
Southrons and goblins attack Pelargir.
The campaign isn't over yet.
Last Updated: July 15, 1998
The author may be contacted at kuijt@umiacs.umd.edu