As the sun was rising the ranks of the rangers could slowly be seen in the distance, as they were marching on the bridge of Tyl Annûn, among them were several others, some of them came for the noble cause of the war and others for the fun of the fight. The air was cool and the rain had just stopped, so the ground was slippery, which would make the battle more difficult that it already was. An Angmarim guard saw the advancing men and started chiming the bell on the tower, calling his comrades to get ready for the oncoming fight. The rangers heard the alarm but continued it, the time to strike had come, the time for the final battle was now, all able bodied men and women were there. On their mind there was only one thing, to retake Tyl Annûn, avenge their fallen brethren, and, if fate has it, die for that great cause. What they failed to see was that several Angmarims ran down the bridge and waited, waited for the signal to strike.
Into the city everyone was running to get their weaponry and armour, once they did they took their places on high towers if they were archers, or in front of the bridge if they were holding axes, swords and other close ranged weapons. The rangers reached the end of the bridge and stood there, their grey eyes were serious, betraying no emotion, as well as the others who were there, everyone was serious, waiting for the charge. From the distance they could here the shouts of the Angmarim, drums and the moaning of the trolls, as they were chained on the walls, till the time for them to be unleashed would come.
The Captain of the rangers held his hand high, that was the signal for the archers to release the first round of arrows, after that they would send another round and the others would charge. The first round was released and the Angmarims in the front lines dropped dead in an instant once the arrows reached them, but the second wasn't that powerful... The moment the Captain raised his hand for the second time a horn sounded, somewhere close to the force, below the bridge... It confused them and some looked around them for the source of it, to their surprise they saw arrows and spears flying from their flanks, finding their way to the archers's bodies. That made the Captain shout "Charge!" and they all ran towards the enemy.
One would say that the bridge was shaking that day, from the pounding of the warriors as they attacked the enemy, as a fist, a force, a killing machine. The first lines collided with each other and the air filled with the sound of metal hitting against metal, screams and shouts of pain and orders echoed in the distance, who knows, someone may say that a fisherman on the other side of the lake heard those sounds... As they traveled with the wind... That fierce was the first contact. They managed to break the first ranks of the Angmarims and those behind split from the main body, they ran under the bridge to stop the enemy skirmishers from attacking again, from behind, if they would the matters would get really bad. The enemy's back lines retreated some steps to form a second line of defense, should the first line would break. The rangers fought hard and managed to push the Angmarims back, but their archers were high and struck in several spots, killing some worthy rangers, causing their left side to break. A shout was heard among the rangers and all those that carried shields made an impenetrable line on the left, keeping the spears and arrows at bay, as well as everyone else that tried to break into the left side. The force that left had now returned, after clearing the enemy archers and using their bows cleared all high points of the Angmarims that held them. Now the rangers had the advantage.
They were closing in to the heart of the city, pushing the enemy back, their blood was flowing towards the water, mixing with the blue of the lake... Suddenly from the sides, drums pounded and they heard the sound of steel breaking, but at that time they paid no heed to that, the enemy was fighting with what was left. The rangers pushed once more, attempting to place the Angmarims between them and a wall and hammer them down, the way a hammer hits the steel against the anvil. They almost managed that when a wall fell and some trolls charged at them from the left, those that held the shields in the middle of the left line were hurled away by the troll's clubs, and others got grabbed and thrown, away or towards the rest of the force. The archers who, till now, were on the right side, now ran to the back and started shooting at the trolls, filling them with arrows, but the trolls still stood, though now slower and weaker. That gave them the opportunity to attack with the spears, pierce straight into their hearts, while the main force was finishing off the Angmarims.
It was almost afternoon, Tyl Annûn has fallen into the hands of the rangers, with a price of course, that day and the previous many brave men fell, fell for the cause, to retake the glorious city. Now it was time to mourn and feast for the victory, all in time, as much had to be done, first of all to fortify it and make sure that it would not fall again. Three times cheered the rangers, for the King, for glory, and for victory! Rivers of blood flowed all around them, countless bodied were lying on the streets, maimed, burnt, cut in half, with their intestines making the breathing difficult. The rangers stood and looked around and sighed, almost all together, at what has happened to the city, but now it was time to start again...
