Summer had never been a suitable season for migration or warfare for the seminomadic, semiagrarian Easterlings.
Their livestock needed this season of growth to replenish the fat they had lost during the cold months, while the people had to tend most of their crops, hoping the land would yield enough come autumn.
This year, however, something unusual happened in the Rhûn Region. At first, the Easterling tribes closer to its center noticed frightened, destitute refugees frequently heading east.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, many chiefs took in people who had lost their homes to strengthen their own rule. Some even organized slave-catching parties, selling isolated stragglers farther inland in exchange for considerable wealth.
But as time passed, the situation changed. Armed groups numbering over a hundred began to flee through the region. Some refugee bands were even led by Easterling chiefs driving chariots, who fled with their Personal Guards in organized units and began to throw this relatively peaceful land into chaos.
When these men had fled the battlefield, they had brought almost nothing besides their weapons, horses, and themselves. Now, if they wanted to survive, they could only fill their bellies by robbing others.
Several tribes that got along reasonably well sent warriors into the wilderness together to crush this band of marauders. After the fighting, they questioned the prisoners fortunate enough to survive about what had happened in the west.
"Those... those people living west of the great river formed a cavalry force and ambushed us in the name of revenge. Yes, they ambushed us. But they were too strong. It was as though... as though they weren't afraid of death. Just a few hundred dared charge our combined army of nearly ten thousand. Then it was all over. All over..."
The prisoner's account sounded like a drunken