A few days ago, many Gondorian soldiers have been summoned to Eastern Osgiliath. Rumors persist within the troops, claiming that steward Denethor fears an assault on the City after receiving reports of orc-activites in Ithilien. Most of the soldiers do not want to believe in these; yet they have prepared the city for battle. The observation posts on top of the old towers are permanently manned, the ruinous parts of the walls have been jammed with countless stones, small and big ones.
The sun rises early on the clear summer morning of June 20th, 3018 TA. The man at arms are woken by bellow echoing through the city. „Get up, get up! Rise and shine! Come on now, get up!“ The soldiers do as they are told, some head towards the wall to relieve their comrades at the observation posts, the others start having breakfast – some bread, meat and cheese, and a piece of cake for every man.
„Listen to me, brethren – this is going to be a good day! A piece of cake, as sweet as that one, can only be followed a great day!“ says one of the soldiers, Carathir, while eating noisily. „Why the good mood, Carathir?“ – „Oh come on, Ingbeld, you know that his son was born yesterday!“ The one named Carathir smiles. „Aye, that is true! I should not be here, I guess, but rather with my beautiful wife in Minas Tirith – but I am glad to spend a morning like this with comrades like you!“
A few hundred meters away, two young men are arguing over a girl from Minas Tirith that both seem to like. „I should be with her! I‘ve know her ever since we were children!“ – „But she kissed me, when I came to say goodbye before we redeployed to Osgiliath! Anyway, we will find out about that as soon as we are back home!“
„That would be better, soldier!“ a cold, hash voice answers. It belongs to a high-grown Dunadan in the rank of a squad leader. „Get this girl out of your heads and concentrate on the present. You will have time enough to talk about this when we will finally be summoned back to the White City. Fall out!“ – „Yes, commander!“
The day goes by, everything seems to be as usual. As the sun begins to set, campfires are lit, when suddenly a terrible, jarring cry intersects the nightfall. The soldiers on the observation posts stare nervously into the darkling night, desperately trying to spot the cause of the gruesome noise. Vainly.
In the darkness they are also not able to notice the orc-archers taking up positions in the adjacent forest. As they do, it is too late. Most of them tumble and fall to the ground, arrow-pierced, others howl with pain.
Another cry shrills through the night. It is followed by another one, reverberating from north-east.
The soldiers arm themselves just in time. Orcs climb over the lithic blockades; the Gondorians do not even have a chance to form a battle formation. “Hold your positions! Fight for Gondor!” can be heard over and over, answered by countless voices. “For Gondor!”
The cries now can be heard at increasing intervals, seeming to approach.
Suddenly the orcs seem to grow stronger and bigger, their numbers becoming endless. The hearts of the Gondorian warriors get heavier, they picture scenes of death and slaughter in their mind’s eye. Fear and desperation spread among the men, a loud voice commands “Fall back! Fall back to the great bridge!”
Most of them should never reach it. Rains of arrows hail down on the man, the last to flee get killed by the furious orcs. Suddenly, a noble voice resounds, causing the remaining men to stand still and turn around. It belongs to Captain Boromir, commander of the resorting soldiers, standing at the great bridge. “You are Gondor’s soldiers! You have sworn to protect your land and your family from every threat! Fulfil this oath now, Men of Gondor, and do not fear or hesitate. FIGHT! Fight for everything that is worth fighting!”
The attackers seem to be overwhelmed and stop dead in their tracks, while the Gondorians take heart. Few are they, but suddenly fear and desperation decrease. The imminence now seems less, and with roaring battle cries they dash against their enemy.
But superior forces are mostly victorious.
They were pushed back, have now nearly reached the defensive line at the bridge, held by Captain Faramir and some man. “We have to destroy the Bridge! Fall back, you brave warriors! The eastern shore is lost!”, their Captain shouts. “You there!” He looks at a squad leader next to him, wounded, but with a sturdy expression in his eyes. “Muster up your man. You stay with me and Faramir. If it is for us to die to defend the western shore, we will make this sacrifice. For Gondor!” The deputy commander nods resolutely. “Yes, my captain. For Gondor!”
The fight continues, long and exhausting. For every orc slain, two more seem to appear from the eastern shore, now glowing red from a broken out fire. Suddenly the attacking orcs fall quiet and start to holler out a saying in their black tongue. Five trolls set foot on the bridge, coming slowly up to the brave Gondorians. “Olog-hai!” cries one of the defenders. Another voice answers: “That’s it… Fall back! Fall back to the western shore, and plead for the bridge to collapse under their weight!”
They hare to the other side, but not fast enough. As the first of the huge trolls has reached the middle of the bridge, the old stone starts to crack. It withstands the second troll, and caves in at the third. Stones rain down on the Anduin, sending orcs and trolls to their watery grave.
As a sleepless night is finally over and as dawn is breaking, the survivors gaze to the eastern shore. The day before, Gondor’s flags where hoisted there; now countless black banners with a red eye on it fly, protruding out of the grey-black smoke that still rises. Someone finally starts talking. “I did not think we would make it. Swimming to shore, with a bridge collapsing over our head…” – “Well, actually most of us did not make it. Be glad.” – “This was the beginning of a war, wasn’t it?” – “No. I think this was to test our strength, nothing else… The remaining warriors told me about Men from the South and East being part of that army. We have to report to father, Boromir.”
The man looks at Captain Faramir, thinking about the fear he felt and the gruesome cries he heard, but resolves to not say anything.
