It was a bright and sunny day, a hot wind blew from the Ered Lithui into the faces of Athaulf and his army as he surveyed the host arrayed before him. Only poorly armed and armored Orcs and Goblins stiffened with some even more poorly equipped Trolls to face his well armed armored and mounted warriors he thought. His troops forming up behind him seemed eager for the battle to begin.
Suddenly dread came upon Athaulf as he realized this was not some poorly led rabble as four dark robed figures rode forth from the enemy ranks and stopped within earshot of he and his nearest warriors. From the dark robed figure on the deathly white steed came an unnatural voice. “You come to my demense without my leave foolish ones.” “The Mouth of Sauron asks is there any of you brave enough to face the wrath of Urzahil in Single Combat?” Athaulf fealt fear as he seemed to feel the glowing eyes of the Nazghul upon his very soul. He backed his mount away from the party of dark robes, to the jeers of the massed Goblins and Orcs. Now unease began to spread throughout his once confident army. As horsmen shifted and horses whinnied a great flight of arrows fell among the massed cavalry ranks. Commanders strained to maintain control of their units when Amber globes of power erupted withing the already shaken horsemen killing many and disrupting command even more. Athaulf knew his men were beginning to dispair, only success in close combat might restore their confidence. Standing in his stirrups for all to see he screamed the order to charge and the mass of horsemen gathered momentum as they moved up the slopes. Arrows continued to rain upon them as they strove to close with the shield walls before them. The Eothraim warriors rode down the Warg riders that counter charged them and continued on to shield wall which buckled but never broke. Magic seemed to make the blows of their heavy weapons to have no effect on the lightly armored Goblins while the heavy clubs of the Trolls felled many a hero. In the end it was too much, the surviving Horsemen broke contact and ran. Athaulf badly wounded himself finally admitted his army was broken and joined the routed horsemen fleeing the site of slaughter. Thus ended the first battle of Thuringwathost in Game 85.