Continued from: Of the Fifth Battle, Chapter 1
Anfauglith started shaking as thousands of warriors marched. The dust clouds which covered their view started to clear away, as if it fled from the army of Himring. So, Sons of Fëanor could see the battlefield clearly, but their army had become visible to friend and foe alike, for their banners were high, their numbers great and trampling of their feet raised the sands of Anfaughlith, clearly showing the direction of the army.
At the very front, there was a battalion of heavily armored Noldor Knights, mounted on their warsteeds, impetuous to start the attack. They were followed by three valiant Vanguard battalions. Vanguards were the most heavily armored and battle-hardened elite of the Noldor. They were to assail the enemy following the cavalry charge and split the enemy host into two. Behind the vanguard was the main force of the army, consisting of thousands of warriors of the House of Fëanor. Most of them were armed with long spears and bright swords yet their most dangerous weapon was the fire that burned in their eyes. A fire of vengeance and hatred for Morgoth had fallen into their hearts and they had taken a terrible form. Among these Noldor, were some of the Laiquendi of Ossiriand who had chosen to fight against Morgoth. They marched among the Noldor archers with their light bows. In the midst of the main force rode the sons of Fëanor. Tall Maedhros in the middle, Maglor and Caranthir on his either side. On the left rode Amrod and Amras. On the right were Celegorm and Curufin. Their bodyguards and bannercarriers surrounded them. Right behind the main force were the subjects of Maglor and Caranthir; Bór and Ulfang and the Men of East. They had a dislike for battle formation and they marched scattered with axes resting on their shoulders. And at the far back was Azaghal of Belegost. Behind him, marched thousands of mighty dwarves, wearing the most durable armor in middle earth and they wore fearsome masks as helmets. The might of their axes was unmatched.
Such was the army of Maedhros. Sergeant Veryacano marched at the very front of the center vanguard. To his side were his kinsmen and companions of many battles, the Noldor of Aman. Their leader was the noble Orommen, walking alone in front of them with his high helm. Veryacano had gone quiet now, focused in the battle ahead. He held his shield close and grasped the hilt of his sword. With tall steps they passed over the plains of Anfauglith and came close to the fortress of Morgoth.
With his view open, Veryacano could now see the battlefield. He looked up and saw the walls of Angband and the towers of Thangorodrim. When he looked down inspecting the indestructible defences of the enemy, he saw a cloud of dust and a chaos by the gates of Angband. The battle had already started. He turned his head south-west and saw the army of Turgon, which looked like a river of silver in the twilight of the morning. With tall spears and banners of white and blue they marched to war. In the west, the elves could see the armies of Morgoth. Beyond them were the white banners of Fingon and in all their majesty, yet the battle seemed to be moving away from them as if Fingon was retreating towards Hithlum. Maedhros immediately turned west and bid the army to make haste. There was long a distance and a wide plain between his army and Fingon’s, and thousands of orcs were pouring into these plains. Big and small, clad in black armor, these were the orcs of Morgoth. With twisted swords and crude spears they stood infront of the army of the east, to prevent Maedhros from merging with the army of the west.
Now hour of battle had come. Maedhros sounded his horn again and stopped the army. Noldor at the front turned around to see him. Rearing his horse, Maedhros hailed them and spoke in the language of Noldor with a voice of crystal:
‘Here brave Noldor, the battle to determine our fate has come! The enemy is across this field and knows not of the doom that is upon him. Now is the time for vengeance, now is the time for justice, and the time to stand as one!’ He said and drew his sword. A crimson fire within his eyes seemed to reflect upon his sword. He reared his horse again, and the tip of his sword pointed west as he cried:
‘To Fingon!’ Then the attack horns blew, sky and ground shook, hearts kindled. The Vanguard altogether drew their swords with a clear ringing of metal and assailed the enemy. The knights rode to the enemy lines as the Vanguard followed behind them.
‘Faster! Leave mercy behind, Faster! Now is the time for vengeance!’ Yelled commander of the Vanguard and a clash was heard. That was the sound of splintered shields, crushed iron and broken spears, mixed with the battlecries of Noldor and the dying screams of fell orcs. The cavalry had charged the orc host head on. Veryacano could see the knights being knocked off their horses one by one. Some were killed right there and some kept fighting. Seing this scene, his pace quickened. Many a battle had he and Noldor beside him had seen together. Countless enemies they had defeated and their assault was terrifiying. The orc lines were in chaos with the cavalry charge and they could not look the vanguard of the east in the eyes.
Orcs unlucky enough to be at the very front were slain instanly by a flash of steel. With a furious battlecry, center of the vanguard stormed the enemy lines. Like a sharp dagger on a weak piece of cloth, they penetrated orc lines in their fury, slaying, smashing and trampling everything on their path. Veryacano was one of the elves at the tip of this spearhead. Right behind him were the three thousand warriors of the vanguard. Fighting their way through the orcs, they hoped to reach the surviving cavalry before the orcs overwhelmed them. It only took a second to penetrate the first orc rank, now they were attacking the second. Veryacano swinged his sword in a wide arc and slew the first orc that he came upon. Without cease, he moved on. The orc ranks did not get a moments peace to thicken and were scattered. With an upward swing he dispatched another orc. With the corner of his left eye he noticed another lunging towards him. He knew he had not the time to turn and react. Instead, he supported his shield with his shoulder and battering low and left, he slammed his shield at the orc, casting it away behing him. Veryacano continued. With his powerful arms he swinged his sword again and again, with different angles, his strong steel piercing and tearing apart the iron armor of the orcs.
One after another orcs fell before him, he left their corpses behind and charged on. Orcs he threw aside or ones that tried to attack behind him were slain by the advancing Noldor. They were now slowing down, shoulder to shoulder, fighting the thickening orc ranks. Sounds of metal upon metal, screams of slain enemies and sound of arrows flying overhead all died down as he saw a kneeled orc infront of him, slice the neck of a fallen warsteed. The orc turned his head at him with an obvious sense of pleasure, only to see a glimpse of Veryacano’s sword behing driven through its skull. Veryacano then put his foot on the creatures shoulder and pulled his blade out, blackened with blood. As he pulled his blade out, through the chaos of battle, Veryacano saw two knights, one mounted other on foot, trying to fend off many encircling enemies. As orcs tried to lunge at them with their short spears, long swords of the knights deflected and avoided. Quickly, Veryacano yelled in the ancient language of Noldor lords:
‘Daelanthe! Daenaro! Follow me!’ Amidst all the chaos, Daelanthe and Daenaro found Veryacano and three warriors rushed forward, fighing their way to the encircled knights.
Continued in: Of the Fifth Battle, Chapter 3
