They came upon the first Balchoth stragglers two leagues south of the Limlight.  The mighty fist of the Eotheod scarcely paused, churning the hapless easterners into the mud, obliterating them from existence. 

Despite a lifetime of mostly quiet watching and patrolling west of the Misty Mountains, Aragost now found himself caught up in the moment.  The smell of sweat on his horse mixing with his own, the rumble of thirty thousand hooves shaking the plains.  The sheer power of the unstoppable wall of steel and death tapped into deep roots of the line of kings that preceded him, men who had faced battle in kingdoms long gone.  He now knew some of what they had felt. 

Today he would take part, bear witness and lend support to the kingdom of men in this age, Gondor.  To his right Borondir was grim faced, strained, desperately hoping they would be in time to save the day, the Steward and many a soldier he called friend.  To his left Eorl had blue fire in his eyes, golden hair streaming back from a face lit up with expectation and victory. 

The scattered stragglers grew in number.  They were nearing the rear echelons of the Balchoth now visible as a dark stain on the plains just a league short of the Limlight.  The horses saw them too and picked up the pace, just as eager to fulfill their destiny.  In another ten minutes they would be upon them.

Eorl blew his mighty battle horn, the signal to close upon the enemy.  The wing commanders responded.  They were now free to execute the plan and make such adjustments as the battle dictated.  All along the line the men now began to shout with excitement, their blood up, a collective mind hurtling across the plain.

Ahead of them the faces of the wild men turned in panic and astonishment at the sound of the horns, the trembling of the earth.  Wide eyed faces screamed then were trampled to oblivion. 

Now the wings began to separate.  The right wing would skirt the main body of Balchoth yet to cross, to quickly make haste over the Limlight to the aid of Gondor’s besieged army.  The center wing would eviscerate the marshalling Balchoth at the river's edge.  The left wing would protect the center’s flank and pursue any stragglers out into the empty plains to the west and south cutting them down to the last man.