"Drive out the darkness, let the light endure!"
Thousands of voices thundered as one. The roar rolled like storm and sea, shaking the very earth. In the black forest beyond, creatures of shadow shrieked in terror, bats wheeling madly into the skies.
At Kaen's signal, the host divided. Thranduil, Elrond, Gandalf, and Legolas led Woodland warriors and men of Eowenría westward into the shadowed woods. To the south marched Galadriel and Celeborn, fifteen thousand of Lórien with them, and close behind came Yenagath and Tauriel with ten thousand Caladhîn. These wings would reach their places and, at dawn, strike from both sides.
Kaen himself remained with Bard, Thorin, and Dáin, at the head of sixty thousand: the heart of the host, set to hold the front and draw the Enemy's eye.
The host formed in ordered ranks.
First line: archers and crossbows, five thousand Dwarf range-troopers and ten thousand bowmen of Eowenría.
Second line: infantry, two thousand heavy spears of Eowenría, fifteen thousand Dwarf heavy infantry, and ten thousand soldiers of Dale.
Third line: cavalry, two thousand knights of Eowenría, six thousand mounted archers, and ten thousand Dwarf goat-riders.
"Ready!" Kaen's voice rang out.
The bowstrings tightened. Ten thousand arrows and five thousand bolts gleamed in the light.
"Loose!"
The sky darkened with shafts. They fell in a storm upon the forest; from within came shrieks and howls.
"Again!"
Five volleys thundered, until the woods lay silent.
Kaen raised his sword. "Forward, shields!"
The heavy infantry closed their ranks, shields locking, steel ringing as they pressed toward the tree-line.
A hiss of air—sudden black arrows flew from the woods.
"Hold the line!" bellowed Dáin. The mail of the heavy ranks turned the shafts aside. A few men fell, pierced at eye or joint, but the wall of steel did not falter.
Into the ranks Kaen rode, with five hundred of the King's Guard about him. His sword flared with golden light. It leapt outward in a great wave..
The black fog hissed like fat in flame, rolling back, revealing heaps of Orc corpses—thousands slain by arrowstorm. The radiance widened, a circle of clear ground in the gloom.
But now the Enemy came in force. Orcs in their tens of thousands, trolls with iron clubs, and beasts wreathed in shadow. Yet those that bore the mark of Sauron's power did not wither in Kaen's light; they roared and charged.
"Shields!" Dáin cried. The front rank drove their shields into the earth, a wall of iron.
"Spears!" shouted Thorin. Blades thrust forth, piercing the first wave of Orcs like a thicket of thorns.
A troll lumbered forward, hammer swinging, and smote the wall with thunder. The line shuddered but held; spears jabbed into its hide, until it crashed down in blood.
"Forward!" Kaen's voice cut like steel. The wall pressed on, grinding the Shadow's servants back, step by step.
"Bard!" Kaen turned in his saddle. "Take Your men,cut these trees!"
The soldiers of Dale were ill-suited to stand in such press. Better they labor than fall. Bard knew it, and though he grimaced, he obeyed. He led ten thousand to fell the dead and twisted trunks. The work was swift; the wood was rotten and dry. Soon they had carved a road a hundred paces wide, stacking the felled trees as ramparts to guard against flank attack.
By afternoon, the fortress itself loomed in the murk—Dol Guldur, dark and forbidding. But the Enemy thickened: Red-eye Orcs, wolf-riders, troops of the Dark Lord's best. The press grew heavier, the advance slowed to a halt.
Here the Shadow was strongest. Even Kaen's light struggled, dimmed by the nearness of Sauron's will. To push further would be folly.
"Form the ring!" Kaen commanded.
The host drew into a great circle, shields outward, halting the tide. In the midst, Bard's men felled more trees, clearing the center for open ground.
Kaen closed his eyes, calling upon the power within him. When he opened them, light blazed.
"Radiance of the world, hear my call! Pierce the darkness—shine forth!"
A wave of brilliance burst from him, a shock like thunder, and for miles the forest was blasted clear. Within the circle, black vapors fled, leaving open air, a sanctuary of light.
Around its edge, Thorin and Dáin, with their captains, set their warriors in iron lines. Orcs rushed again and again, but were beaten back with axe and spear.
Then Bard came before Kaen, weary but grim. "My lord," he said, "my men grow restless. They tire of hewing wood. They yearn to fight and win their honor."
Kaen's gaze softened. "Tell them this: the road they cut will be the path of death for the Orcs. Tomorrow, when our cavalry thunder forth, this ground will become their grave. Then every man shall have his battle, and his glory."
Bard bowed his head. "I will tell them so. Yet know this-the men of Dale desire not only the clash of steel. They long to fight in your light, Kaen Eowenríel, for they deem it the highest honor."
Kaen's eyes blazed with gold. "Say to them: I will not withhold my light. But remember—glory is won by their own hands, not granted by me."