“Lord Eowyldor,” the young Elven warrior Lenwe pleaded, “if we leave the remaining Orcs to their devilish ways, they will surely try to take over Mirkwood before long! We must attack before our time has run out.” The Halls of the Elven King were splendidly decorated for the banquet celebration of the Dark Lord Sauron’s moving south to Mordor, but the pressing issue of the few Orcs that remained behind dampened the festivities.

“Very true, the threat of this remnant must be done away with,” a Man of Éothéod agreed as he stepped forward. There was a harshness about this newcomer that made Lenwe suspicious. “I am Thengel, captain of the armies of Éothéod. Chief Frumgar of my homeland near The Great River Anduin greets you and has sent me to aid you in this very task, for, being that we are close neighbors, this matter concerns us greatly also.”

“Mae govannen,” Eowyldor greeted him, “Frumgar and I were good friends of old and have made many treaties together. His assistance is always welcome.”

Apprehensive, Lenwe interrupted, “Frumgar’s assistance is always welcome here, but I met with him recently, and he made no mention of your name or of aiding us in this expedition. Surely, if he had sent you he would have mentioned something of it to me?”

“The orders where given last spring–I was to fulfill my present mission before coming here–and now is the middle of autumn. With such a great time lapse between your visit and mine and with the many, many other things on the king’s mind, he simply forgot to mention it.” Everyone seemed satisfied with this explanation, but Lenwe was not convinced; he had been with Frumgar for ten days, and they had had much time for discussion of even trivial subjects. No, in his mind there was no doubt, there was something going on here. If Lord Eowyldor did not see it, then Lenwe would have to find a way to make him see it.

“Yes, that sounds very likely indeed,” Eowyldor was saying, “Now about the Orcs. They have been pressing on my mind for some time now. What approach do you advise us to take, Thengel?”

Very pleased at the Elven-king’s confidence in him, Thengel began, “The Orcs are camped just south of the Mountains of Mirkwood. We should march down as soon as possible and attack them from the north to fight in the valleys. This is to our best advantage; they will not be expecting us, and we can hide in the crags near the bottom until they come out. By then it will be too late. They will be trapped, and the victory will be ours!”

“Yes, yes,” Eowyldor contemplated, “I think it just might work.”

“Certainly it will! But we must begin preparations immediately. I advise you to set out in one week. You should be able to gather up enough warriors by then.”

“Very good. Lenwe, give out the orders. We shall prepare to leave on the 19th, eight days from today. We will march south to the mountains, and there put an end to this threat.”

“My Lord,” Lenwe respectfully argued, “Please listen to me! I do not trust this man. Lord Frumgar and I discussed this very situation. He would have told me if he had already sent us aid.”

“Lenwe, my lad, you have no reason to fear. Thengel, appears to be a good Man and a courageous warrior. His counsel is sound. I shall do as he has advised and we shall be rid of these dreadful Orcs.”

He wished he could be so confident, but he could not. Lenwe would just watch and wait.

Three days later, it happened. In the dark of night, Lenwe was aroused from his thoughts. Something was moving stealthily in the shadows of the forest. Quietly, as only an elf can, Lenwe followed it through the trees along the Forest River, and finally to the mouth of the Enchanted River. There it stopped and glanced over its shoulder to make sure it had not been followed. Though the glance was brief and though it was the darkest hour of night, Lenwe’s Elf eyes perceived. The figure was undoubtedly Thengel! Lenwe climbed a near-by tree, from whose heights he could watch without fear of detection.

Four hideous figures crept out from behind some near by rocks on the ground. One of them was strong and bulky, obviously the leader, next came a tall, lanky one, and finally two scrawny little creatures wallowing on the ground. Lenwe partially unsheathed his Elven-blade. Sure enough, it glowed blue; these were Orcs.

“Roshnik, I have good news for you,” Thengel offered.

“Good, my troops have been craving some fresh meat. If you had not brought good news, they would have had to be satisfied with you,” the leader replied.

“But, Roshnik, one man will not feed all of us?” one of the little ones questioned.

“Shut up, Progdish! Now, Thengel, what is this good news you speak of?”

“Eowyldor accepted my counsel and will arrive in the Mountains of Mirkwood in six days on the 20th of this month. He plans to arrive there, hide in the crags surrounding the valley, and lie in wait for you. You, however, will enter the night before and hide in the same crags he plans to use. In doing so you will use his own strategy against him when he arrives. Send a messenger to Sauron in Mordor telling him that his plan to over-throw the Elves of Mirkwood is in place.”

“Erurt, go!” Roshnik commanded the lanky fellow as he took off. “We will be ready for them when they get there. Progdish, Ving, get-up! We must go as far as we can before the sun rises.” Lenwe had heard enough; he ran as fast as his Elf legs could carry him. He must come up with a plan that would save his people, destroy the Orcs, and not alert Thengel–then the task of convincing Lord Eowyldor. Would Eowyldor trust him now that he had significant reason? Lenwe could not be sure.

The next morning he rose early–he had to wait until he was sure Thengel had returned but was also fast asleep–and went in to see the Elf-King Eowyldor. After relaying the previous night’s events, he introduced his new plan, “In order not to arouse the suspicion of Thengel, we should carry on with our preparations as planned; however, two of your best captain, their troops, and 200 of your finest warriors shall leave a day early and hide at the tops of the mountains on the east and west above the crags. The Orcs will arrive at night to position themselves in the crags below, so they will need to be in place before dark. Then when Thengel and the rest of your army arrive the next morning at the appointed time, it will be the Orcs who will be trapped, on the east and west from the warriors in the mountains and on the north from your faithful army. Those who follow Thengel will most likely try to flee, but they will be trapped also, their only escape to the south. We will pursue them south to the Orc camps, and burn them and the camps to the ground.”

“Yes, that is what must be done,” Eowyldor replied, “It distresses me to hear talk of Sauron, but this time we will be rid of him once and for all.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lenwe humbly answered.

Six days later Eowyldor gazed across the land as smoke billowed from the piles of burning remains. “Yes, my lord, all the Orcs that fled south have been routed out. Not one remains,” Ciras, second in command of the army of King Frumgar, reported, “However, Captain Thengel has fallen in the battle, and we cannot find his body.”

Eowyldor looked long into his eyes, “If only he had been killed, he could have been left with at least a noble death, but it was not to be. Thengel fled at the start of the battle as soon as he realized that his plans had been found out.” Eowyldor conveyed to Ciras all of Thengel’s treachery and betrayal.

Ciras’s eyes grew with horror, “We must pursue him! We must bring him to justice! He must not get away!”

“No,” Eowyldor directed, “he will suffer far worse at the hands of Sauron than even he deserves. But you and your Men have proven faithful. Continue in that faith and report this matter to King Frumgar so that Thengel will never be able to show his face among Men again.”