At the very hour when both flanks loosed their wrath upon the Shadow, Kaen and his host stood poised before the southwestern marches of the forest. The air was heavy, the gloom thick as smoke, yet the armies of Men, Elves, and Dwarves waited in stern silence.
This time the host bore with them great engines of war: catapults, rams, and towers of iron-bound timber. With a single command they could be rolled forth along the broad road that had been hewn from the wood the day before, to grind their way to the very walls of Dol Guldur.
Dáin Ironfoot was restless, his eyes blazing. He hefted his warhammer and muttered, "Kaen, when do we strike? My hammer grows hungry."
Kaen's lips curved in a faint smile. "Patience, my friend. We must wait until the wings close in. Only then shall the jaws of the trap spring shut."
So they held their ground through half the day, until at last tidings came: from the west, Thranduil and Elrond had driven a horde of Orcs before them toward the center; from the south, Galadriel and Celeborn had carved a bloody swath, pressing their foes northward.
Kaen's eyes gleamed. "Our allies have not failed us. The Orcs are entering the snare. Now it begins.
"Send word! Fifteen thousand Dwarven heavy infantry, ten thousand bowmen, and five thousand dwarven crossbowers—advance from the forest edge in a line!
"Thorin, take the left. Dáin, the right.
"Cathril, Mundar, Zakri, Reger, Caden, Sigilion—and you, Bard—lead two thousand heavy troops and the men of Dale down the central road.
"Hold your advance until the foe is within the circle. Then close the trap in concert with our wings.
"When the circle is sealed, sound the horn. Then I will ride with the cavalry and strike the killing blow."
"Understood!"
"It shall be so!"
"As you command, my lord!"
The vast host shifted its ranks, forming a wall of steel and bow stretching five leagues, and pressed into the gloom.
Kaen did not ride at the fore. His place was the eye of the storm, the commander rather than the vanguard. Behind the advancing infantry he held the reserve: five hundred Golden armored Guards, two thousand heavy horses of Eowenría, five thousand dwarven goat-riders clad in mail, six thousand mounted archers, and the remaining light-footed men of Dale. They guarded the war-engines, awaiting the signal to unleash ruin.
Soon the dark pressed close. Out of the murk Orcs and trolls leapt upon the heavy shield-wall—but the line held firm. Whenever one point faltered, the bows and bolts from behind scythed the attackers down. The forest groaned with the clash.
Down the central road Bard and the captains of Eowenría led their men into the thick of the mist. Warriors and heroes walked beside him, their presence alone enough to unnerve the enemy. Yet even Bard did not squander his strength. They pushed forward with measured pace, not to scatter the foe but to herd them inward, as Kaen had willed.
At last, the left wing joined with Thranduil's warriors. Tens of thousands of Orcs and spiders were caught between, three Ringwraiths among them battered and fading, their forms flickering like shadows about to vanish. The Elves pressed close, sealing that flank.
Then the right wing closed with the host of Lothlórien and the Caladhîn Elves. Two Wraiths fled in haste, and the Witch-king himself was cast down beneath Galadriel's wrath, her form shining like a goddess of light amidst the fog. Her radiance tore through Orcs as if they were smoke, and none could stand before her fury.
At last the jaws closed. The circle shrank. leagues of iron and silver drew tight, compressing the foe. A ring of death was wrought, and within it thousands of the enemy were caught.
The Ringwraiths had vanished into the dark—but their hordes remained.
"Ready!" rang the voice of the kings.
From every quarter Elven archers,Bowmen of Eowenría, and dwarven crossbowers drew their strings taut.
"Loose!"
The sky darkened as a storm of arrows fell. Down they rained upon spiders, bats, trolls, wargs, and Orcs. Hulking beasts were pierced as if by a thousand spears, collapsing into heaps.
Three volleys they loosed. Of the fifty thousand trapped, less than twenty thousand still stirred upon their feet.
The horn of Dale sounded, echoing like thunder.
Kaen heard and rose in his saddle. "Form the wedge! Five hundred Guards in the fore, two thousand knights behind, five thousand goat-riders in the rear! Prepare to charge! Six thousand horse-archers, guard the engines and press on to Dol Guldur!"
The ground quaked as hooves and hooves alike struck the earth.
"Open the path!" Bard and the captains cried, and the infantry drew aside, leaving a gap. The Orcs, thinking to break through, turned their eyes upon it—only to behold terror.
For out of the gloom blazed gold and silver light, and a king astride a white steed. Behind him thundered seven thousand and five hundred in mail and steel, a living torrent.
Kaen raised his sword, his voice ringing like a trumpet. "Courage and glory!"
"For Eowenría!" cried his warriors until their throats broke.
"For Durin's sons!" roared the dwarves.
"Never shall we yield!"
"Kill!"
Then the tide struck.
The charge swept into the remnant of the horde, an avalanche of steel and light. Horses trampled Orcs beneath iron-shod hooves; goats gored and crushed; lances shattered troll-flesh; spiders and wargs were dashed aside like leaves before a gale.
Nothing lived where the wave passed. The darkness broke beneath it, utterly destroyed.