Diary of sergeant Pedhaer, squad leader of the second Evendim Squires. Summary of March, Third Age 2983.

It's the end of March and I finally have time to write and compile a report. This was a... Very busy month, all things considered. A quarter of the unit is dead, half of it is in the infirmary and the rest of us didn't get out of that little cock-up unscathed either. I got lucky. The arrow hit my left arm so I can still write without a problem. I'll start with the beginning.

I joined the unit in the beginning of the month and I found a capable group of men that had seen a fair bit of combat before, which was a first since joining up with the Dúnedain forces. They all sported an assortment of scars and held their weapons with the easy-going confidence of men who knew how to wield them. Despite that it was easy to see that these were not grizzled veterans. They had experience, a fair bit of training, but their horses were not warhorses and they did not possess the armour or equipment that marked them as proper cavalry. Still, it was nice to meet them and I received a warm welcome in their midst.

We set out the very first day. Apparently a large force from Orcs had set out from the cold north and was making their way to Fornost under the command of a particularly nasty Orc chieftain. The men, upon hearing this, had different reactions. The ones who had fought the Orcs from the old Angmarim regions showed ill-kempt concern. The ones who had fought with the Goblins from the Misty Mountains were more confident and were looking forward to the battle. The latter failed to notice the mood of the former and those men did not seem keen on sharing their thoughts. So, with my newly minted stripes of sergeant freshly sewn onto my outfit, it fell to me to dampen their spirit. In hindsight it would prove good that I did.

We met up with several more companies on the way there. A few were like us, but most were either Footmen or Archers. Rangers were gathering in great numbers as well. It seemed like this would be a large scale battle, but numbers on the exact size of the enemy host were still lacking, which concerned me. It meant that the Orcs weren't letting the Rangers get a clear reading on their numbers. Smart Orcs always equalled trouble for us. Luckily enough by the time we reached Fornost that had changed and we now knew the strength of our foe. Unluckily enough it wasn't a good number for us. Still, it mattered little. I was strangely excited at the prospect of killing Orcs again, even more so as I vividly remembered their heavy outlines against the fires that consumed my village. I noticed that several men shared my grim, eager outlook and knew them to be dependable. Their lust for blood did not subsume them, but gave them clear purpose.

The Rangers had us take position near the edge of where the battle would take place. Out of the way, but still in the city, near a gaping hole in the wall. It was a smart decision as it afforded us the mobility we needed to strike and be gone. I did not see many others during that brief time, but from what little time we spent at the mess hall I got a good idea of how our forces were positioned. Rangers were stationed across what towers that were still usable. That was good. The range advantage the height granted them wasn't for their bows, but for their ability to give orders and direct the troops. The Archer companies were hiding up on the walls. Given how hard it was to get up the ruined structures, that meant they were surprisingly safe from counterattacks. Then there were the Footmen, who were holding key points in the city to box the Orcs in, provided they held the line. I kept those worries for myself. The Rangers knew warfare better than I did. I just knew how to kill the Orc in front of me.

It was at the dawn of the third day that the Orcs reached us. They did not waste much time, forming up in decent lines before marching onto the city. Our Archers opened fire as soon as they came within range, but the Orcs hefted shields and kept up their advance, picking up speed to close in faster. Still a fair number of Orcs fell. A shield could only take so many hits before it became too unwieldy or simply fell apart and enough arrows squeezed through the gaps to wound or kill a goodly number of the beasts. Then their own archers came into range and our men were forced to switch targets. Or so I heard, at least. I wasn't there. I heard that afterwards.

When the Orcs finally entered the city the battle rapidly spiralled out of control. Companies of Squires thundered across the streets to aid besieged Footmen, who fought to the best of their ability to hold the line. It was a closely fought battle and at no point did either side seem to gain the necessary momentum for a victory. Then a unit of Warg Riders came through the breach we were guarding and they seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see them. They paused and that was a mistake. I roared a battle cry and within moments our entire unit was barreling down on them while they were still pressed between the walls. We used our mobility to our advantage in close conjunction with the handful of Rangers on the walls with us. Whenever it seemed to devolve into a melee, I had the men pull out. They obeyed me for some reason, likely because our captain had found himself headless quite early on, but it was good that they did. This had become a hunt and I knew how to lead those.

We ran away, the Rangers shot down a few Wargs or Riders, until a number of them lost control and turned around to deal with them which was the moment we turned and charged again. We managed to slaughter their entire unit that way, but it wasn't an easy victory and many of the men lay bleeding, or worse, dead, on the ground. Still, the majority of the unit was alive and somehow I ended up in command. With all the mayhem rapidly unfolding the Rangers on the walls couldn't give me clean commands either anymore, so I took matters in my own hand. I didn't know much of battle, but I figured that the Orcs weren't stupid so I took the men out of the city and rounded it, towards what I hoped would be the unprotected enemy archers.

As fortune would have it, that turned out to be the case. With their own Warg Rider units having sent out to flank us, they had clearly not expected to be flanked in turn and our unit took them by surprise, reaping a heavy toll amidst the lightly armoured archers. When the first unit broke and began running away, I refused to let myself be drawn after them and after some harsh words I managed to convince the others to do the same. If the city was lost it would not matter how many Orcs we killed out here. So we charged, even more diminished, into the next group. These had seen us coming and loosed a volley into our charge, crippling many horses and killing several men outright, but we still crashed into them. It devolved into another bloody, close ranged melee and I took the men out again, rather than get bagged down and let their numbers overwhelm us. Speed was our watchword. Luckily enough for us our own Archers had been paying close attention and waited just long enough for us to clear the immediate surrounding before another volley slammed into the disoriented Orcs, who broke lines and ran. We performed this two more times, until we decided that the enemy ranks were sufficiently thinned, before thundering into the city at best speed. A good number of us were dead and only a few didn't sport injuries. I had managed to get myself shot in the process of routing their archers but I did my best to pretend I was fine and hoped nobody could hear my curses or hear my teeth grind themselves to dust as I bit back the pain.

Then we were in the city and our now unpinned Archers were wreaking a heavy tally on the enemy, who had their backs turned to them. Later I was told that our Archers picking off the enemy was what turned the battle, as their fire arrows burned more than just hides, but at the time I only remember seeing a frightened enemy as one of the Rangers had managed to decapitate the Orc chieftain while their rear was being perforated. So I did what any red blooded man would have done, completely lost my cool and charged into them like a man possessed, amidst several dozen of men stuck in the same mindset.

Let me write down now, while it was the final straw that broke the pony's back, as they assumed more units were coming after us, it is never a good idea to put less than a score of men in between a fleeing army. If the Orcs hadn't been so busy running for their lives and if our Footmen didn't rush to close the gap as swiftly as they could, we would have died to a man. As it was they were content to pull us off our horses and see us crash into the ground, before running away again. Squires are meant to run down a fleeing enemy and that the Orcs were, but put a light shock unit like ours in the midst of a swarm of enemies and we go down like flies. A lesson learned the hard way. I should have never steered the unit into that mess. I reckon I'll feel the consequences of that soon enough. The Orcs were on the verge of routing anyway, a few more salvos and they would have run. Our charge made little difference and only got more men killed and even more wounded.

I have been called to meet with the Ranger Council tomorrow. A message that was delivered by two very Rangers who looked grim, even by their standards. I do not believe they will kill me, but I will admit that the thought of running away has been on my mind for a while now. I think if I try to sneak away while they are still cleaning up the surviving Orcs that are too stupid to run back north, I might have a chance. I won't though. I am not a coward and I can't stand the thought of leaving behind another place I am trying to call home, even if I likely will have to do so anyway by the end of that meeting.

Oh well. We shall see what happens. I am off to find Rubir now. I got more kills than him and that means he owes me a bottle of that swill they call ale here. I just hope that this won't have been my last entry.