[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“Hold until they are upon us,” Ambarturion cautioned his students. “We used many arrows in our battle with the goblins, and must take care not to squander what we yet possess.”

“They have shields,” Coromswyth said quietly. “And they know how to use them. The Men in particular seem to know how to protect themselves.”

“Yes,” Ambarturion agreed. “All the more reason to wait until we have clear targets to shoot at.”

The orcs stormed the hill first, with the main body of the beasts making a full frontal assault. It was as Ambarturion had known it would be: the expendable orcs would come at them first, to reduce their stock of arrows and tire them with combat, while the more powerful Uruks and Men would attempt to approach them from the cover of the hollow upon their flank. It was an obvious strategy but an effective one – it is what he would have done in their position. There was little time to speak, and not much to be said, but Ambarturion sought to give his students what aid he could before the battle was joined. “Do not throw away your lives in fury or despair,” he told them. “Remember that you are warriors of the Golden Wood and the equal in might to at least a dozen orcs. Remember as well all that I have taught you. Fight with patience and in an even temper. Think of where your blows will do the most harm to your enemies and aid to yourselves. Watch for each other.” He did not remove his eyes from the approaching enemy as he spoke but he could feel their sober response to these words. He wondered what Coromswyth was thinking, but dared not distract his attention from the trial ahead.

The orcs rushed up the hill, their cries becoming roars of blood-hatred as they neared the Elves at its top. When they were twenty paces distant, Ambarturion give the order to loose, and at his word the four leading orcs fell. As quick as thought they restrung their bows, and four more fell, but the mass had come much closer. A third volley killed three, for Caranbaith’s arrow had missed its mark, but it was enough – the orcs, tired by their run and in terror of their losses, faltered. Ambarturion dropped his bow to the ground and drew out his sword. “Laurelindórenan!” he cried, and his voice rang across the land like the silver trumpets of Fingon. “Auta i lome!” And like a bolt of white light from the starlit sky of Elvendom his sword flashed in the sun as he ran at the orcs. They stopped their advance entirely, in dismay of his fury, and some looked as though they might flee, but their Captain, a great hairy brute with but one eye, drove them forward to meet the headlong rush of the Elves.

The red mist descended before Ambarturion’s gaze, and he forgot his own counsel as he met the beasts upon the hillside. His sword rose and fell and two orcs were immediately slain, their black blood staining the offended grass. He rushed forward, slaying orc after orc as he ran, caring nothing for his safety and paying no heed to the cries of his students and of Coromswyth behind him. The fey temper that had come upon him in the battle with the goblins descended once more, and he roared with inchoate rate and hatred and he swept the head off an orc, and the legs from beneath yet another. The orcs came upon him in a mass, but he beat them back, yearning only to reach their Captain and destroy him.

Ambarturion had no hope that he would prevail. Already his charge had been stalled, and the orcs were pressing in about him ever more closely. Driven beyond the terror of his blade by their hatred of his race they threw themselves at him recklessly. His run had carried him far beyond the aid of his companions and he was soon encircled by enemies. Still he fought on, and still he killed the orcs, but all the time that he did so, he knew that the more powerful Uruks and Men would be upon them soon, and then all hope would surely be lost. At last he struck down the last two orcs that stood between him and the one-eyed captain. He rushed at the orc with his blade singing about his head and dripping black gore, but his attack was met and rebuffed, again he spun and drove at the monster, batting aside his ragged blade and slashing at his neck. The orc, however, was cunning and quick and stepped aside from the attack. Now, however, he was off balance and easy prey to Ambarturion, but it was too late, for the enemy had pressed in about him in a tight wall and he was soon separated from the captain by an impenetrable wall of steel and leather.