On Rohan's eastern border, a fierce and brutal war was underway.
Tens of thousands of Mordor troops poured out from the Black Gate, crossed the Dead Marshes, and pressed toward the Anduin River.
The surprise attack was too sudden—Rohan's border defenses along the eastern Anduin were insufficient. Despite desperate resistance, the disparity in numbers soon put the Rohirrim at a disadvantage.
Seeing the dire situation, Rohan's commander immediately destroyed the river bridge, attempting to halt Mordor's advance.
But Mordor was clearly prepared, producing countless boats to cross the Anduin under Rohan's arrow volleys.
Mordor's army was too numerous—though they killed some crossing orcs, many more successfully reached the far shore and attacked Rohan's garrison.
As more Mordor forces crossed, Rohan's defenders could not hold. They were forced to retreat.
The Rohirrim fell back to Rohan's second natural defense line—the banks of the Entwash River.
After crossing to the west bank, they destroyed the river bridges and made their stand.
Beyond the Entwash lay endless grasslands—if Mordor crossed here, they could drive straight to threaten Rohan's capital, Edoras.
Therefore, Rohan concentrated most forces here, determined to fight Mordor decisively without allowing them to threaten the capital.
King Théngel personally came to the Entwash, organizing the army against their enemies.
But Mordor's sudden, swift arrival prevented many scattered Rohirrim forces from quickly assembling.
At the Entwash, Rohan's army numbered only a fraction of Mordor's forces.
Mordor advanced quickly to the opposite bank, facing Rohan's soldiers across the water.
At a horn's call, Mordor repeated their tactics—forced river crossing by boat.
Moreover, because the Entwash had less flow than the Anduin, massive trolls jumped directly into the river, holding up planks to form bridges for orc armies to cross.
"Quick! Shoot arrows! Aim for those trolls!" King Théngel urgently commanded.
The Rohirrim shot at the bridge-holding trolls, but this posed no threat to their thick hides.
Only when Rohan deployed massive ballistae aimed at troll heads did some fall with pierced skulls into the river.
King Théngel also successfully shot a troll's eye with his bow, causing it to throw off planks and orcs while knocking down neighboring trolls into the current.
Even so, Mordor's assault never ceased—dense masses crossed the river.
"Your Majesty, retreat! Mordor has too many—we cannot hold!" a herald shouted to King Théngel after killing a charging orc.
King Théngel wielded his great sword, cutting down an Uruk-hai, then shook his head with determined resolve.
"Behind us lies Edoras. Once we retreat, we will have no advantages left. Mordor will capture our capital and Rohan will perish!"
Edoras had no strong walls and insufficient defenses—it could not mount effective resistance.
Moreover, countless subjects lived there. As a worthy king, Théngel would not endanger his people and family.
Théngel gazed westward with hopeful eyes.
Only the lord of Isengard could now reverse their crisis and save Rohan.
He only hoped that wizard would aid them.
But watching more Mordor soldiers cross while his own numbers dwindled, King Théngel's heart grew heavier.
Would Rohan face destruction this time?
Just as King Théngel prepared for a desperate final stand, over a dozen piercing eagle cries came from the distant sky.
This sudden sound drew everyone's attention.
The next moment, over a dozen hippogriffs streaked like lightning toward the battlefield. Their massive bodies and wings swept over the ground like scythes, carving swaths through Mordor's army.
Sharp talons like giant hooks pierced and flung trolls away.
Atop the hippogriffs, led by Dunlending chief Brog, warriors wielded bows—each arrow felling an orc or Easterling.
These hippogriffs' appearance dramatically changed the battlefield, especially with Dunlendings commanding aerial advantage, targeting Mordor's officers.
Soon Mordor's forces fell into chaos.
Mordor troops shot arrows at the airborne hippogriffs, but ordinary missiles could not harm them.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! It is me, Folcred! I am here!" Folcred, sharing a hippogriff with a Dunlending warrior, shouted upon spotting King Théngel.
His Dunlending companion quickly spotted an orc attempting to ambush the king and shot it dead.
This sudden intervention startled Folcred, who nearly drew his sword, thinking the Dunlending meant to kill the king.
Seeing Folcred's reaction, the Dunlending warrior snorted coldly, landing to drop off Folcred before taking flight again.
"Folcred, what is the situation? Has Wizard Kael come?" King Théngel asked hopefully upon seeing his cousin's return.
Folcred shook his head. "Your Majesty, Wizard Kael did not come, but he sent Dunlendings to aid us!"
King Théngel's hopes fell.
He had hoped Kael would appear riding his legendary dragon—then these Mordor forces would be no problem.
Looking skyward at the dozen unprecedented half-eagle, half-horse creatures and Dunlending riders, his expression remained tense. "Where are the other reinforcements? Just them?"
These alone could hardly change the battle's tide.
Folcred shook his head excitedly. "Not just them—the Dunlendings brought over ten thousand fully equipped elite troops!"
Théngel showed joy and hope, quickly scanning the western plains. "Are they behind us?"
Before Folcred could answer, the airborne Dunlending warriors began dropping boxes from their mounts.
The boxes crashed down, expanding massively under countless amazed gazes before automatically opening.
Dunlending warriors on warhorses wielding sharp weapons poured out, charging at surrounding Mordor forces.
The burly, battle-hardened Dunlendings struck like spears into Mordor's army, cutting through continuously.
But Mordor's arrows and blades could not harm the Dunlending warriors, who wore spider-silk armor—soft and light yet impervious to ordinary weapons.
Emboldened, the Dunlendings fearlessly slaughtered orcs and Easterlings.
Trolls were left to the hippogriffs, who seized them in sharp talons, flew high, and then dropped them onto Mordor forces.
This not only crushed trolls but also crushed many orcs and Easterlings below.
Witnessing this, King Théngel was shocked and delighted, decisively ordering the Rohirrim to join the assault and eliminate all Mordor forces that had crossed.
Airborne, Dunlending chief Brog ordered half his hippogriff riders to block further Mordor crossings at the Entwash, destroying boats and makeshift bridges while cutting off retreat.
The remainder, led by Brog, struck directly at Mordor's rear command.
Seeing Dunlending warriors on hippogriffs approaching from behind, Mordor officers panicked, frantically ordering troops to shoot skyward with little effect.
On the ground, Dunlending warriors charged fearlessly into Mordor ranks with their invulnerable spider-silk armor.
The Rohirrim, led by King Théngel, attacked from the perimeter.
Mordor's forces fell into chaotic panic, retreating steadily.
Desperately, they found boats and bridges destroyed by hippogriffs that had seized and smashed them from great heights.
Cut off from retreat, Mordor forces lost all morale. Under constant pressure from Dunlendings and Rohirrim, panicked orcs and Easterlings jumped into the river attempting to swim across, only to be swept away by swift currents.
When all crossed Mordor soldiers were eliminated, Dunlending chief Brog successfully killed Mordor's commanding officers with arrows and cut down their battle standards.
Leaderless, Mordor's army fell into complete panic, scattering eastward in retreat.
The Entwash prevented Rohirrim and Dunlendings from swift pursuit—they could only watch the defeated army flee.
But eliminating nearly half of Mordor's forces in victory brought excited cheers.
Especially Rohirrim soldiers, who had thought themselves doomed with their nation facing destruction.
The Dunlendings' arrival completely reversed the situation, saving them from annihilation.
Therefore, Rohirrim who had previously considered Dunlendings uncivilized barbarians gained new understanding.
When Dunlending chief Brog landed on his hippogriff, King Théngel's eyes flashed with envy before he stepped forward with solemn gratitude.
"Chief Brog, thank you deeply for aiding Rohan. We will remember this friendship—Dunlendings and Rohirrim will remain neighborly and peaceful, warring no more!"
Brog dismounted his hippogriff, his sharp, penetrating gaze studying the sincere Rohirric king, eyes flickering.
Finally, he extended his hand, clasping the king's.
Accepting this friendship.
Thus the centuries-old blood feud between the peoples was officially resolved.
But before Rohirrim and Dunlendings could celebrate their victory, the sky suddenly darkened.
The hippogriffs became agitated and restless as if sensing danger—even their riders could not calm them.
King Théngel and Chief Brog looked up gravely.
Dark clouds shrouded the sky without a single ray of light breaking through.
With an earth-shaking roar, a thousand-meter black dragon emerged from the clouds, emanating frigid aura—wherever it passed, bitter cold followed as if winter itself had come.