[Manôphazân]

Excellent! thought Lan’Kâsh, watching the action roiling around him. The untrained men following Jinan swarmed recklessly around the tower, each screaming at the top of his lungs as they chased the few remaining Gondorians away. Most of the northmen had retreated into the security of the treeline where they had turned and form a temporary line of defense. Even as Lan’kâsh watched, Gimilzôr’s experienced force drove into the right side of the Winger line, and it immediately began to crumble.

Above the lieutenant the watchtower burned violently, sending a pillar of black smoke into the morning sky. Excellent! he thought again. Not a Gondorian in Harondor can miss that signal, and every peasant farmer for 50 miles will poor into Poros Crossing. By the time we get there, the place will be packed to bursting and ready for a crushing defeat. A few hundred settlers squeezed into a wooden box will be no match for Haradrim fire and iron!

He noticed with satisfaction that Jinan’s men were now fighting strongly, though several had fallen in the initial charge of the tower. Gondorian bowmen were deadly marksmen from prepared defenses, but as the Harad force had surrounded and ignited the tower and the few huts around it, the Wingers had been forced to abandon their lofty position. With the archers fleeing instead of firing at them, Jinan’s force had rediscovered their courage and chased their foe with deadly vigor.

Frôzhal was not to be seen, though his men were. A burly fellow, who even now was urging them to the forest line, where a few Gondorians still stood, led them. Several of the peasants in his group lay wounded or dead between the tower and their current position, but like Jinan’s group, they were clearly now in control and enjoying their first taste of battle.

As the last Gondorian fell or fled, Lan’kâsh signaled for his bugler to call everyone to do a quick regroup. The northmen were now on the run, and a fast pursuit through the forest would be unnecessary and dangerous. Anyways, he knew where they were headed.

“Sergeant Benel,” he shouted, and the faithful soldier soon was at is side, his spear covered in blood and a bright gleam in his eye. “Advise Gimilzôr that we will loot this position and then proceed cautiously. Our first goal of alarming the Gondorians is accomplished. Now we must engage them at their fortress and keep them pinned down until our main army arrives.”

Walking the battlefield with the sergeant still in tow, he told him, “Less than ten dead, and that many again wounded. Not bad, not bad at all. Those peasants fought better than I had thought possible.”

Sergeant Benel nodded agreement. “Yes, sir. They did fine, but I thought they were turnin’ right when the first arrows flew in.”

“I saw that,” answered the lieutenant, “but they held together. Smart. Now they know what victory is, and they’ll be better soldiers for it. This attack did more for us than just let the enemy know we are here, as I was commanded to do. This battle made us stronger.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lan’kâsh looked around again as if searching for someone. “Sergeant, after you talk to Gimilzôr, see if you can track down Frôzhal. I haven’t seen him since the battle began, and I fear the poor fellow may have fallen. Go!”