Gondor's proud capital of Minas Tirith was built directly into a mountainside in terraced layers, its back protected by the towering White Mountains.
The city rose in seven distinct tiers, each with independent defensive walls and fortified gates. The gates were deliberately not aligned in a straight line—the winding road into the fortress spiraled tortuously around the hill, designed specifically to delay and exhaust any enemy advance.
Minas Tirith was famously easy to defend and notoriously difficult to attack, never having fallen to conquest since its ancient establishment.
It had always been considered Gondor's most impregnable fortress, the jewel of their kingdom.
But now Mordor's vast army pressed menacingly at the gates. Seeing those dozen massive cold drakes advancing like living siege engines, all soldiers and citizens showed expressions of terrified despair.
Just then, Gandalf rode Shadowfax at full gallop, rapidly approaching from behind Mordor's army with his grey robes billowing.
Shadowfax's legendary speed proved swift as wind itself, leaving only a silver blur in his wake—giving the orcs absolutely no chance to intercept.
Gandalf rode through Mordor's densely packed forces as if through empty air, weaving swiftly between ranks with supernatural grace.
He raised his staff high in one hand, releasing dazzling holy light that blazed like captured sunlight.
The radiance made illuminated orcs and trolls retreat in fearful terror, raising clawed hands to shield their eyes. Even the Uruk-hai and Olog-hai trolls specially bred by Saruman and Sauron to withstand sunlight dared not approach the searing brilliance.
Far behind him followed an army of thousands of Gondorian soldiers—troops Gandalf had personally reorganized and rallied during his journey.
He had rekindled their courage and hope through words and example. Now wielding weapons with renewed determination, they charged fearlessly at Mordor's overwhelming army.
Even though Mordor's forces outnumbered them nearly tenfold, these inspired men remained utterly undaunted.
Gandalf led the charge personally, plunging deep into Mordor's forces with calculated precision.
He held his staff blazing with power in one hand and his ancient sword Glamdring in the other.
Blinding holy light prevented surrounding Mordor soldiers from opening their eyes properly. His other hand swung the elven blade with deadly efficiency, cutting down enemy soldiers along his path.
Finally reaching a massive cold drake's side, he leaped athletically from Shadowfax's back directly onto the beast, climbing nimbly and agilely up the drake's scaled back despite its thrashing.
The cold drake noticed Gandalf's presence and turned its massive head to bite with jaws that could crush stone.
Gandalf did not dodge or retreat. After temporarily blinding the drake with concentrated dazzling light, he used his staff to forcefully prop open the drake's powerful jaws. Then he thrust Glamdring fiercely upward into the soft upper palate until the blade nearly disappeared completely inside the beast's skull.
With a brutal twist of the ancient sword, the drake's enormous body instantly stiffened before collapsing lifeless like a felled tree.
Gandalf withdrew Glamdring carefully and removed his staff from the drake's gaping jaws. After catching his breath briefly, he pulled a flying broomstick from his enchanted space pouch and took to the air toward another cold drake actively attacking the city walls.
As for his beloved mount Shadowfax, Gandalf felt no worry—the legendary horse moved like swift wind incarnate through Mordor's forces, giving them absolutely no chance to catch or harm him.
The Steward atop the highest city walls, witnessing Gandalf so decisively dispatch a cold drake, felt his spirits soar with renewed hope.
He immediately ordered troops guarding the city to sally forth and coordinate attacks with Gandalf and the arriving reinforcements against the enemy.
Simultaneously, Gondorian soldiers positioned on the walls provided crucial support with volleys of arrows and devastating catapult strikes.
Gandalf rode his broomstick with expert control, moving swiftly among the remaining cold drakes, constantly drawing their attention and rage toward himself.
With agile flight maneuvers and sudden changes in direction, the lumbering drakes could not catch the nimble wizard.
Then when the drakes were unprepared and distracted, he would release concentrated bursts of searing white light to blind them temporarily.
Suddenly losing vision, the drakes became violently agitated and disoriented, lashing out blindly at everything around them in maddened fury.
The primary victims were the surrounding Mordor soldiers themselves—massive drake tails swinging wildly sent orcs and trolls flying through the air like broken dolls while their enormous bodies trampled countless orcs beneath their thrashing weight.
Facing over a dozen cold drakes simultaneously, even Gandalf could not kill them all immediately through direct combat.
So he changed tactics, flying swiftly to Minas Tirith's highest tier and reaching the seventh level's palace to find the Steward urgently.
"Lord Steward, quickly have flammable oil barrels catapulted onto those cold drakes. We must use fire against them—it's our best weapon!"
The Steward did not hesitate for a moment, immediately ordering the collection of every oil barrel stored within the city to be brought to the defensive walls and launched at the drakes via the heavy catapults.
Oil-filled barrels arced through the air before smashing directly onto the drakes, shattering on impact and thoroughly dousing the beasts in flammable oil.
Seeing this preparation complete, Gandalf activated Narya's divine power, causing flames to ignite spontaneously on Gondorian soldiers' swords and arrows throughout the ranks.
At his commanding signal, thousands of flaming arrows shot toward the oil-soaked drakes in coordinated volleys.
Gondorian soldiers wielding supernaturally burning swords charged directly at the orc army with renewed courage.
Though individual fire arrows could not penetrate the drakes incredibly hard scales, they successfully ignited the oil coating covering their bodies. Flames spread rapidly and intensified dramatically, effectively transforming the cold drakes into living "fire drakes" consumed by burning agony.
Surrounded and engulfed by spreading flames, the drakes howled in excruciating pain, rampaging madly and uncontrollably through Mordor's tightly packed forces.
They not only trampled countless Mordor soldiers beneath their burning bulk but also ignited all combustible materials along their destructive path.
Within minutes, towering flames shot skyward throughout Mordor's army, completely shattering their morale and cohesion.
Seeing this dramatic reversal of fortune, the Steward felt joy surge through him. He immediately ordered Gondor's full-scale assault while the enemy remained disorganized.
Though Mordor's chaotic army still outnumbered Gondor's forces several times over, their broken morale proved decisive. Caught between converging Gondorian forces attacking from multiple directions, they began retreating steadily eastward.
Gandalf rode his broomstick through the air, constantly dodging the incoming arrows that sought him while searching intently for Mordor's commanding officers.
He quickly spotted the orc chieftain directing operations from what he thought was a safe position in the rear and charged directly toward him.
Seeing Gandalf flying toward him with deadly purpose, the orc chieftain showed fearful alarm across his brutal features. He frantically ordered concentrated volleys at the approaching wizard.
Dense clouds of arrow rain shot upward at Gandalf from hundreds of bows.
But this desperate attack clearly could not stop the determined wizard. Glamdring became a silver blur in his skilled hands, deflecting the concentrated attacks with supernatural precision.
He charged toward the orc chieftain without giving him any opportunity for escape. Amid the chieftain's rising terror, Gandalf cleanly beheaded him with one powerful stroke of his ancient blade.
He simultaneously cut down Mordor's black battle standard with a contemptuous slash.
Now completely leaderless and surrounded by flames, Mordor's army utterly collapsed. No longer caring about organized combat or orders, they fled in pure panic toward distant Mordor.
Gondor's inspired army pursued the routing forces relentlessly.
But Gandalf redirected his primary attention back to the still-dangerous cold drakes.
Though thoroughly engulfed in flames and clearly suffering, these incredibly resilient drakes still lived, continuing their destructive rampage through both armies.
Cold drakes possessed legendary defensive capabilities—the flames caused excruciating pain but could not deliver fatal damage to their vitals.
Perhaps Mordor army's panicked retreat eastward gave the drakes directional purpose, reminding them of the life-saving Anduin River flowing to the east.
They immediately charged eastward frantically with single-minded determination, desperate to reach the river and douse the consuming flames in the Anduin's cold waters.
Gandalf naturally would not allow the valuable drakes to escape and recover, pursuing them through the air relentlessly.
During this aerial chase, Gandalf successfully killed two more cold drakes by diving close and driving Glamdring through their eye sockets into their brains.
But before he could continue systematically hunting the remaining drakes, Mordor forces previously garrisoned at Osgiliath, spanning both banks of the Anduin, launched an unexpected counterattack.
These fresh Mordor reinforcements included not only additional orcs and trolls but also disciplined Easterlings from distant Rhûn, plus fierce Haradrim warriors and corrupted Black Númenóreans from the far south.
Several cold drakes stationed at Osgiliath even used their massive bodies as makeshift living bridges, allowing Mordor forces completely free passage across the Anduin's breadth.
The pursuing Gondorian forces suddenly found themselves unable to take fortified Osgiliath against this renewed resistance.
Gondor's hard-won morale plummeted sharply at this devastating setback.
If Osgiliath could not be recaptured and held, future Mordor attacks on Gondor's vulnerable capital and other settlements would face absolutely no natural barriers or obstacles.
Gandalf could not simply watch Gondor's army falter and break at this critical moment. He immediately rejoined their ranks personally, rallying flagging morale through presence and words.
Meanwhile, the flame-surrounded cold drakes finally reached and plunged into the blessed Anduin, extinguishing their fires in the river's cold embrace.
As Gondor and Mordor forces settled into a tense military standoff across the ruined bridge, a hippogriff arriving from the distant north suddenly broke the battlefield's precarious stalemate.
"King Théngel! What an unexpected and pleasant surprise!" Gandalf spotted the familiar Rohirric king riding the magnificent hippogriff and flew over on his broomstick to greet him warmly.
"Does your presence here mean Rohan's crisis has been successfully resolved?"
King Théngel, an old trusted friend and ally of Gandalf's, smiled broadly and nodded with genuine gratitude, "Thanks to the heroic efforts of Wizard Kael and the brave Dunlending warriors, we successfully repelled Mordor's forces attacking Rohan. We then traveled to support Isengard before finally arriving here to aid our allies in Gondor."
"Support Isengard?" Gandalf's weathered face frowned with grave concern, asking in genuine surprise, "Did Saruman dare to attack Isengard directly?"
King Théngel nodded seriously, then shook his head, speaking with lingering fear still evident in his voice, "Not just Saruman operating alone. He brought an ancient frost dragon at least ten times larger than the legendary dragon Smaug, plus dozens of bred evil dragons and all eight of Mordor's dreaded Black Riders!"
Hearing this catastrophic news, Gandalf felt shock course through him like lightning.
But seeing King Théngel's living presence here before him, his anxious heart gradually settled.
"Your safe arrival here means Isengard ultimately achieved victory against such overwhelming odds?"
King Théngel nodded with visible pride and reverence crossing his weathered features, "Wizard Kael proved incredibly formidable beyond all expectation! He personally killed that ancient frost dragon and slaughtered all the evil dragons—only the cowardly Saruman managed to escape with his miserable life."
With a reminiscent tone, he added warmly, "Moreover, Wizard Kael most generously hosted us with dragon meat afterwards. We are all still brimming with strength and vigor from that remarkable feast."
"What a pity I missed that legendary feast," Gandalf said with a genuinely regretful smile and a shake of his head.
After efficiently updating each other on their respective situations and current status, they did not waste further time chatting. Both immediately joined the ongoing battle with renewed purpose.
King Théngel opened his magically carried box, which instantly enlarged to reveal an exit wide enough for two horses to ride abreast comfortably.
Rohirrim cavalry continuously poured forth from the enchanted box in organized formations, their horses' hooves thundering.
King Théngel also mounted his own magnificent warhorse. After bidding grateful farewell to the helpful Dunlending warrior and hippogriff who had transported him such distances, he led the assembled Rohirrim cavalry in a devastating charge directly at Mordor's surprised army.
With these unexpected Rohirrim reinforcements arriving, the Gondorian alliance's collective morale surged dramatically upward.
Gandalf flew purposefully to the great bridge of Osgiliath that spanned both banks of the mighty Anduin. After forcefully repelling numerous enemies crowding the bridge with powerful strikes from his staff and deadly slashes from Glamdring,
He struck the ancient bridge's stone surface with tremendous force using his staff, channeling immense power through it. The broad stone bridge instantly collapsed along with hundreds of Mordor soldiers still standing upon it—all plummeting helplessly into the cold river below with screams.
Only Gandalf remained hovering calmly in mid-air aboard his broomstick, untouched.
Then he turned his full attention to the cold drakes recovering in the Anduin's waters. This time he did not attack them directly through physical combat but instead faced the flowing river while chanting ancient incantations.
As the powerful chant echoed continuously across the water in the old tongue, the majestic, turbulent Anduin suddenly fell eerily quiet and still.
The cold drakes recovering in the water felt instinctive unease first, trying desperately to flee toward either shore.
But before any could escape the river, towering flood waves rose impossibly from upstream with terrifying supernatural momentum, sweeping the massive drakes helplessly into their churning embrace.
Facing the magically summoned flood, even these massive cold drakes could not struggle effectively or mount any resistance.
They were carried by the raging floodwaters downstream along the river's course, ultimately being swept far out into the distant sea.
The ocean itself seemed unwelcoming to their arrival—powerful surging undercurrents dragged them relentlessly into the lightless deep sea, where they ultimately vanished without trace beneath the waves.