"My lord, we cannot take that fortress."
At the rear of the army, the orc chieftain ran to the Nazgûl to protest.
"The wall is too strong, even when we break through, it's swiftly repaired."
"Their supply of materials seems endless, while our soldiers will eventually be spent."
The few remaining war-beasts and a company of trolls had already been pulled back by the orc chieftain, held in reserve awaiting orders.
Even an orc could see that continuing this war of attrition was folly.
There seemed to be no hope of victory whatsoever.
"The siege ladders are useless. Their arrows and those strange explosive devices are more plentiful than stones on the riverbank. The moment our troops approach, they're struck down by concentrated fire."
The orc chieftain raised his eyes pitifully toward the Nazgûl, who showed no reaction to his report, and asked tentatively:
"My lord, should we withdraw?"
"No. Continue the assault."
At last, when the orc chieftain suggested retreat, one of the Nazgûl rebuked him.
"Then what should we do next?"
"Attack."
"But our assaults achieve nothing. If this continues—"
"I said... attack."
The Nazgûl sounded impatient.
"My lord, I fear that approach will fail. You must give us a strategy, otherwise every orc in this host will simply be wasted—"
Gah.
Halfway through speaking, the orc chieftain's throat was seized, and he was lifted into the air.
"What gives you the audacity to defy my command?"
"I only think... your order... is flawed..."
The orc chieftain managed to choke out the words with great effort.
"Your duty is to obey, not to question."
The Nazgûl loosened his grip slightly as the orc foamed at the mouth.
But then came words that made him regret the mercy:
"You... are not our true master."
"Even your master, he is only your lord. Ours is far greater, more terrible, born of the depths below—"
Crunch.
Before the sentence was finished, the orc chieftain's neck was crushed to pulp.
Thud.
The head struck the ground first, then the lifeless body collapsed after.
The other two Nazgûl showed no reaction to this execution.
The one who had killed him immediately grabbed a passing orc soldier and said:
"You. You will be the new chieftain."
"Me? Chieftain?"
The one-eyed orc, who didn't look particularly bright, pointed to himself in disbelief.
"Yes. You."
The Nazgûl looked at him and nodded.
"Now go lead the army to attack."
"Yes, my lord!"
The orc immediately dropped to one knee in response.
Clearly, his simple mind lacked capacity for complex thought.
"Kill them all!"
The new chieftain bellowed as he charged forward, passing the order to the army.
The Nazgûl did not merely stand by either.
"Let us launch a full assault," one of them suggested.
The sooner it was done, the sooner they could return.
The other two nodded. The quietest of the three stepped forward, raised his hand toward the sky.
Upon it, a ring glimmered with malevolent light.
He was the only Nazgûl present who wore a Ring of Power.
Boom!
Thunder exploded overhead, the stars faded, and a vast shadow was drawn across the land by unseen force, plunging everything beneath into darkness.
At that moment, everything beyond Riverside Fortress became invisible, swallowed by absolute night.
Only vague shapes shifting in the gloom hinted that something still moved outside.
On the walls, the defenders drew their bows, not knowing where to aim, unable to tell whether an attack was even approaching.
Inside the fortress, the lanterns and torches flickered uncertainly, their light no longer reaching as far as before.
The three Nazgûl radiated a sickly, twisted green light; standing there, they looked like three malignant stars risen over the battlefield.
Panic spread like plague among the defenders.
Then, against the corruption of darkness and that unholy glow, a brilliant flame suddenly blazed forth.
"Fear not! Their power has not grown, what you see is mere illusion!"
Gandalf raised his staff high, its shining light driving back the shadows around him, revealing, too, the siege towers that had already reached the walls under cover of darkness.
Thud!
The orcs swarmed up like vermin, spilling over the battlements, and the soldiers rushed to meet them in desperate combat.
"Stand firm! Stand firm!"
Gandalf ran along the walls with his staff, scattering darkness wherever he went.
Crash!
Balin kicked an orc from the wall and couldn't help exclaiming, "Their tricks are endless, if this were any other realm, it would already have fallen!"
"Fortunate indeed our foes in the old days were mostly from the Misty Mountains, and more fortunate still the Nazgûl never joined them."
"They never could have," Gandalf said, striking down another orc with Glamdring.
"You should thank Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and the White Council, it was they who drove the Nazgûl from Dol Guldur, keeping such terrors from roaming free."
"This is the first I've heard of it..."
"Whether you've heard or not, it all ends here."
Hooo.
Gandalf drew a deep breath and turned to Halbarad.
"Leave this dark sorcery to me. Watch for my signal, then lead the countercharge!"
"Understood."
Flash.
Before his words had barely faded, a piercing white light flared at the far northern horizon.
A signal rocket, one white burst ignited in the sky, briefly revealing the land below.
There, on a rise, stood a figure. He drew a longsword that shone with brilliant blue radiance and pointed it toward the battlefield.
Behind him stretched an endless host of silver-armored cavalry.
The light of the rocket faded, and darkness returned, but all fear had vanished.
Aye. No bonfire, however fierce, could illuminate the whole night.
But now, a sun had risen in men's hearts.
"Huzzah!"
The soldiers' hesitation melted away. Strength surged through every limb. Not only did the countless orcs scaling the walls now seem like mere vermin, but even the three Nazgûl, cloaked in terror, no longer appeared so fearsome.
The shadow above was pierced by the hope welling up from within.
Halbarad could not help but cry out, "Your signal works wonders!"
But Gandalf, still holding aloft his staff, stood frozen.
"That wasn't my doing."
Rumble...
From the north came a thunderous sound. The orcs looked about in confusion, uncertain what new doom approached.
Now it was they who stood blind in the dark.
"Charge!"
At the fore shone the blue sword, and behind it thundered the vast silver cavalry, weapons raised high, their armored destriers galloping at tremendous speed.
"Ride them down! Ride to victory!"
"Death to the Enemy!"