Gandalf rode down the mountainside at a frightening pace. His hairs whipping in the wind as he flew down the hill hoping to reach battlefield the in time. The stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils and he choked down the urge to vomit.
On the battlefield below all he could see were two things, hordes of living orcs and burning masses of dead ones. Gandalf's old bones ached as he descended the hill, but he knew it would all be over soon enough. Gandalf’s horse panted for breath, his heart was racing, but he still pressed on toward his goal.
Suddenly the sound of war cries filled the air. At first Gandalf thought it was the orcs yelling in victory, but alas it was his comrades screaming with joy at the site of Gandalf and the reinforcements. Gandalf's mouth watered for the sweet taste of victory that he knew was to come.
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