Before the black walls of Dol Guldur the plain lay strewn with carrion. There Kaen, at the head of his mailed horsemen, had crushed the last resistance of the Orcs. Thus ended the Battle of the Mirkwood, a victory wrought by cunning design and the gathered strength of six kingdoms.
Fewer than ten thousand among Men, Elves, and Dwarves had fallen; but of the creatures of shadow, five to six times that number were slain. Their corpses filled the earth like a foul harvest.
Kaen dismounted, pulling free the helm from his brow, his hair damp with sweat and battle-dust. About him came the kings and their captains, flushed with triumph.
"Ha!" laughed Dáin Ironfoot, his beard bristling. "Kaen, we have won a great victory! The whole Mirkwood lies beneath our heel."
Thorin Oakenshield's face, stern and proud, softened in rare mirth. "The beasts are scattered. Once Dol Guldur falls, Rhovanion shall know peace again."
Rhovanion—that was the Elvish name for the wide lands of the North, as Eriador was of the West.
Everywhere joy flickered. The victory had lifted spirits higher than ever before.
But Kaen's voice cut through, calm and grave. "Rejoice on this day, but be not deceived. What lies ahead is darker yet. Within Dol Guldur wait thirty thousand or more—the true chosen of the Dark Lord. The Mirkwood was, but his first defense. The citadel is our true trial."
The mirth faded, replaced by solemn nods.
Celeborn spoke first. "You are the commander of this war. Speak, and we shall act."
Galadriel inclined her head in assent, her eyes like cold starlight.
Kaen drew breath, then set forth his will. "Dol Guldur rises upon a hill. At its foot lie the forges and storehouses of war, girded with stone walls hard to breach. The battle to come will be long. We must prepare.
"First: clear all trees around the hill. Let nothing hide nor flee. Encircle Dol Guldur utterly.
"Second: we shall not waste lives in rash assault. Hundreds of engines we have brought. Let them hurl stone without ceasing, day and night, until the walls fall.
"Third: when the walls are down, the host shall storm the heights, seize the fortress, and cast down Sauron's shadow."
Not one king demurred. Messengers sped forth. The armies moved to their tasks.
That night a grisly mountain rose upon the field, piled of tens of thousands of carcasses. Gandalf the Grey murmured words of power, and crimson fire leapt high, consuming flesh and spirit alike, purging the taint.
Kaen stood beside him, and his voice rang to all: "Dol Guldur lies before us. Here, before the cleansing fire, swear with me: we shall not rest until this shadow is burned away. Victory shall be ours, for evil cannot forever hide from judgment!"
"Justice shall prevail!" cried Bard of Dale, and a thunderous shout followed from every throat.
Upon Dol Guldur's walls the red-eyed Orcs shrank from the glow of the pyres, trembling at the defiant roar of the host.
High in the castle, Ringwraiths hovered, silent and watching. Behind them a scarlet shape writhed in flame, and a dreadful voice rumbled: "Let darkness be gathered… let it reign!"
The very air quailed beneath Sauron's will. Even the Wraiths bent low, and all the spawn of shadow bowed before the unseen master.
At dawn the siege began. The allied armies felled trees until a vast ring of bare ground lay about the hill. They pitched their camps just beyond bowshot, with riders patrolling ceaselessly, hemming Dol Guldur round.
This was no sudden onslaught to be won in a night. Sauron had forged Dol Guldur into a fortress of war over centuries. Yet Kaen had foresight. Provisions for a month lay ready, and Lothlórien was near enough for the roads of supply.
For three days they labored, building lines of earth and palisade, raising barriers of warding light by the might of Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel, so that none might escape by land or air.
When all was set, the assault began.
Horns sounded, deep and long.
From the woods were rolled forth the engines of war: hundreds of catapults, wrought by the smiths of Erebor, carved with runes that gave their stones greater flight and force. Eight Dwarves bent to each, their arms like iron.
Thorin himself gave the signal, sword bared.
"Load!"
"Aim for gates, walls, towers!"
"Loose!"
Great stones, heavier than oxen, flew through the sky. They struck the walls of Dol Guldur with thunderous crashes. Stone shattered, rune-carved defenses splintered, Orcs upon the ramparts were crushed.
The Wraiths shrieked in fury. Orc engines answered, loosing bolts and rocks in return. Yet their losses far outweighed the allied host's. The soldiers of the Alliance stood back, only the crews of the engines in reach of harm.
Day after day the bombardment continued. By Kaen's command it never ceased, night nor day. If one faltered, another took his place. If an engine failed, a new one was wheeled forth.
After a week, Dol Guldur's walls were pocked with craters, crumbling in places. By the eighth night the Orcs tried to sally forth, creeping beneath the dark. But they were met by arrows and bolts from hidden lines, and the attempt was drowned in blood.
On the tenth day the walls gave way at last. With a roar like mountains breaking, the outer defenses tumbled. The runes cracked, their light fading.
Kaen gathered the kings and captains. His eyes burned with the light of wrath.
"My lords," he said, voice carrying to every ear, "the hour has come. The final battle is upon us!"
-------------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters: patreon .com / ElvenKing20