[Nerindel]

The sun burned a reddish, orangey glow across the evening sky. Standards of Gondor and the Poros fluttered in the cooling easterly breeze. The Poros was still, poised and ready, the anticipating silence was deafening. All had been set in order and now there was nothing left but to watch and wait. Archers like marble columns; Tall and erect, lined the main forward wall, Their golden helms glistening in the fading light, Long bows in hand and arrows comfortably within reach. Several men now walked the walls silently lighting the torches and Astalder watched them all trying to engrave every brave and determined face into his memory. He knew that the wall would eventually fall to the Haradrim’s monstrous machines and that many of the men he now watched would fall with it, they were good men, but their keen sharp eyes were needed to delay the enemies advance and lessen their numbers before they finally breeched the wall, but even knowing this didn’t make it any easier to swallow, his throat tightened as he thought of the sacrifice these men would make for their home.

His gaze then turned to the main gate below them, it was closed tight and heavy wooden struts reinforced it, strengthening it against possible attack. Here also were the Roquen, they would meet any breech of the main gate, Dispatching as many of their enemies as they could. Their number was small, less than a third of the size of a full contingent. Thirty he reckoned at a glance and at their head he could just make out the tall proud figure of Khalad and Josef, The former having been promoted to first lieutenant of the Poros Roquen and the latter his second. It was odd looking down on his fellow knights, he should be down there with them sat upon his horse, ready to die with them as one of them, but the Captain had insisted that he would be needed as his second, reluctantly he had accepted and hoped, no prayed that there would be no need for him to take command. He could willingly march into battle risking his own life, but to ask, no order others to do so; he wasn’t sure he had the stomach for it.

His gaze then shifted to the Poros’ main body of Defence, a hundred or so men, all armed with swords and spears. Among them he could make out a few familiar faces, His friend Talfas the large innkeeper of ‘The Poros Crossing,’ the blacksmith, the baker and even a few of his wife’s stable hands, lads no older that boys. He could easily distinguish between the villagers dressed as soldiers and the Poros guard, the Guard stood tall and proud ready to die in their defence; they knew what they were about to face and what was expected of them. But the settlers did not and it showed in their faces, fear and apprehension. They where right to fear for he had see what was coming and even he could not deny the desperation of their situation. But soldier were taught to hide their fear and Astalder buried his deep and would not allow it to enter his mind.

He looked back across the settlement, in the direction of the rear gate were the women and children would make their escape, his wife and son among them. He did not know if he would ever see them again in this life, but he took some comfort in knowing that they at least would escape what ever fate was to befall the Poros.

“Are you ready?” Anhelm asked, his steady eyes still watching the horizon. Astalder turned from his thoughts and regarded his captain. Anhelm stood tall and proud, his sword in his right hand and his left balled and settled behind his back. He stood defiantly his grey eyes burning with unwavering determination and in that moment he felt proud and gained a new respect and love for his captain, Anhelm would remain defiant to the last and so would he.

“I am!” he replied confidently, drawing his own sword, the towers of the moon, engraved on each side glowing eerily in the torch light.

A horn sounded as the last rays of the setting sun caught the silvery gleam of helm and spear as the Haradrim army crested the horizon. Several men shifted uneasily as the ground shook and the two Catapults rumbled into view.

“Steady!” Captain Anhelm ordered, confidence bolstering his command.

“Archers ready!” he cried and every archer fluidly knocked arrows, pulling the string taunt and ready, their sharp eyes watching keenly the advancing lines of their enemies, waiting for their Captain to give the order to fire.

Astalder’s grip tightened on his sword, their was little for him to do until the wall was breeched, so he thought through his training and the many battled he had fought and won, letting the lust for battle grow within him, so that when the time came he could use it’s strength to crush his enemies.