Here's my entry - in the nick of time.
In the war between Gondor and Mordor, two locations hold vital strategic importance as major crossings of the Great River Andiun – Osgiliath in the south and Cair Andros in the north. Both are currently under Gondor’s control, but Denethor, Steward of Gondor, places much greater importance on Osgiliath; hence, Cair Andros is undermanned and vulnerable. To the north east of Cair Andros lies a small outpost, tasked by Denethor with keeping a watchful eye on the border between Northern Ithilien and Mordor. Here, a bridge, critical to the protection of Cair Andros, spans a small anabranch of Andiun.
Over many days, the outpost has been subject to constant incursions by orcs as they probe for weaknesses in Gondor’s defences. A small group of civilians, hastily co-opted into the military, and war weary soldiers from Osgiliath have fought bravely to defend the river crossing and hold the bridge.
But today is different.
The orcs have grown bolder and stronger as Sauron’s power intensifies. Dark clouds blot the sun, easing their passage, and today they make a major thrust against the weakening defences of the outpost. A blood-thirsty band has breached the outer walls and marches relentlessly across the bridge. The northern bank of the small river is all but lost. Civilians, slaughtered like innocent lambs, lie strewn across the ground. An orc shaman urges his soldiers forward, as his rabid warg feasts on the flesh of a brave defender. The shaman’s chants strike fear into the hearts of Gondor’s finest.
But something worse has appeared today – a Great Beast of Gorgoroth lumbers across the bridge causing mayhem among Gondor’s warriors. Chained to its back, a makeshift howdah carries a small group of orcs, its height above the battle giving strategic advantage to orc bowman who rain down arrows with monotonous menace. Tiring war veterans thrust their pikes into the legs of the great beast, but with little effect. Soldiers fall by the wayside, plunging into the river below, as the waters turn a bloody red.
A captain of Gondor, emboldened by blood lust from a recent orc slaying, rallies the men onwards and calls his banner man to the foe. A horn of Gondor rings out across the outpost ruins – mournful and desperate. Who will answer its call? Has the outpost finally fallen - its brave defenders tossed onto the waste pile of a failing kingdom?
The dark clouds part. A sliver of sunlight illuminates the ruins – and the Prince of Ithilien charges his mount unflinchingly into battle.