Isildur Read online

  Then Elrond rode to the gates and called out in a loud voice. "Behold, the Galadrim are come to Osgiliath. We would take counsel with your king." Then were the gates thrown open and the clarions rang out. Meneldil greeted them and welcomed them in the name of Isildur, then led them through the streets to the Tower. Isildur, Elendur, and Gildor came down the broad stairs to greet them.

  "My Lord and Lady," said Isildur in his powerful voice, "you are well come indeed to this our city. My people thank you for your offer of aid in these evil times. I believe you already know my eldest son Elendur, and of course Gildor of Lindon. Master Elrond, my friend and kinsman, my heart is gladdened that you should come at long last to see Osgiliath."

  And Celeborn replied, "Well met again, Isildur King. Good day, Elendur. And greetings to you, friend Gildor Inglorion. So the two far travellers are united again, and their efforts may at last bear fruit."

  Then some of Meneldil's guards led the Galadrim host to the walled fields of the Westbank, where they made their camp nigh to that of the men of the south. But Isildur led their lords into the Great Hall to seats of honor beneath the Dome of Stars. After they had broken their fast and shared their news, the Elves expressed their interest in seeing this new city, which none of them had ever visited before. Isildur led them up into the Tower of Stone and they stood at a high window and looked out over the city stretching out on either side of the broad river Anduin.

  On all sides, the sun gleamed on white buildings and red tile roofs. Many tall buildings and towers stretched to the sky, for this was the commercial center of the city. To the south, between the last residential street and the high walls of the city, lay the green fields of the Westbank, now covered with rows of brightly colored tents and the streaming banners of many lands. But to the east across the River, the scene was not so fair. There many walls were scorched and blackened, and some of the towers were broken like jagged teeth. Hollow windows and burned houses spoke of the war that had raged across that part of the city in the first assault of the orcs. Through the midst of the city flowed the placid brown Anduin, spanned by the many-arched Golden Bridge. Once that bridge had streamed with people and wagons, a life-giving artery across the city. Now it stood empty, with barricades at each end guarded by strong parties of soldiers. On the near bank, the homes and shops were abandoned and a rough boardwalk had been built across their roofs, forming a parapet for a sort of second wall in case the enemy attempted the bridge again. Men paced there and their arms glinted in the morning sun.

  From the streets below the Tower came the cries of vendors and the rumble of wagons and carts. The market in the central square was thronged with people and the scene seemed normal and peaceful. Yet rare was the sound of laughter and now and then a smith would look up from his forge or a woman set down her child and they would look to the east, to the guards on the parapets. For just beyond lay the land of the Enemy, and those walls marked the frontier. Beyond lay the grey-shrouded Mountains of Shadow, looming high and dark yet in the early morning light, casting long shadows like fingers groping toward Osgiliath. Banks of clouds hung above them, threatening a summer storm.

  Between the city and the mountains lay the land of Ithilien, the former fief of Isildur. It lay now all in darkness. There all was still and no motion or life could be seen, save only that a keen eye could mark, far off in a high valley, the faint smokes where orcs made their foul meals of luckless things they had caught in the night.

  Long the Lords looked out over that scene in silence, then at last Celeborn spoke. "This is a noble city you and your people have built, Isildur. Though it is yet new, still it has the potential for greatness. I remember that this was a fair site ere the Edain returned to Middle-earth, but your labors here have made it a place of much beauty."

  "It shines yet, does it not?" said Isildur fondly. "It was intended to remind us Dúnedain of Rómenna in Númenor. Would you had seen it when it was fair and clean. It was once gay and proud and many shapely towers stood where all now is blackened and burned." He looked sadly at the ruined parts of the city. "I fear the damage will never be fully undone. Can that which Sauron has defiled ever be completely clean again?"

  But then Galadriel spoke, and her voice was like moonlight on rushing water. "It is not her white stones that make your city noble, Isildur, but her people. Long has the valor of the people of Gondor been a shield wall, defending the West against our enemies. We honor them."

  And Elrond said, "And if our plans go not amiss, new towers may rise in Osgiliath and all will again call it Fairest of the Cities of Men."

  "Such is my dream," replied Isildur, "though many might deem it foolish in these dark times."

  "Nay, Sire," said Meneldil, "it is only foolish to despair. Surely with these good people as our allies we may dare to hope again. Do not Elvish eyes pierce the future? Is there not bright victory before us? Can you not see it, my lords?"

  But Celeborn sighed. "Alas, no. Our eyes may see beyond those of mortal men, but the future can not be seen with certainty by any eyes, not even the Lidless Eye of the Enemy. Therein lies both our fear and our hope. We must build our own future with such tools as we possess."

  Isildur looked up sharply at that and Galadriel caught his eye and nodded. "Aye," she said. "We have fulfilled our trust and have done as bid by Gil-galad. We come not empty-handed, though this is not the time nor place to speak of such things. For now we would rest from our journey and walk in your city. Farewell for now." And the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien descended from the Tower. But when Isildur rose to leave, Elrond bade him stay.

  "Isildur, I would speak with you. You know the Lady referred to the Rings of Power. She herself bears Nenya, the Ring of Water, and wondrous indeed are the powers it bestows on its wearer. But few even of the Wise know this." And he pulled a fine gold chain from around his neck, and behold, it bore a gleaming ring of burnished gold with a single immense sapphire that shone with a clear blue light like a ring around the sun.

  "This is Vilya," said Elrond. "The Ring of Air, and mightiest of the Three."

  Isildur could only stare. The ring sparkled and glowed. Elrond dropped it again into his tunic.

  "It was given to me for safekeeping by Gil-galad when he rode away to war. He bade me keep it until he called for it. But he also told me that he hoped he would not call for it while the war lasted, for it was very perilous."

  "And so it is," agreed Isildur. "Sauron forged his One Ring especially to draw the Three Rings to him and to absorb their power into his. If it were to fall into his hands, he would be immeasurably stronger and all the good works made with Vilya's powers would fade and die."

  Elrond nodded. "Aye. It was intended that the Three should be kept separately, far from Mordor, and would not be brought against him."

  "Except in the most desperate need. And the need is upon us now. This must be the final battle against Sauron. If we fall, there is not strength enough in all of Middle-earth to mount another attack. The time has come to use our last weapons."

  "I know," said Elrond. "And I believe that Galadriel is ready to risk using Nenya in our cause. But she fears for Vilya. As the mightiest, it will surely be drawn most strongly. We do not know the true power of Sauron's One Ring, but we are told that he might even be able to sense the presence of the Three at a distance, to know when they are approaching."

  "Still, we have no choice but to make the attempt. And Vilya is Gil-galad's ring. He wore it long and built many wondrous and marvelous works with it. If he can wield it against Sauron, then Sauron would most likely be drawn forth from the Barad-dûr. Perhaps if he is distracted by Vilya's presence, we may yet…"

  There was a sudden commotion on the stairs and a guard rushed out onto the balcony and fell on his knee before Isildur.

  "Your pardon, Sire," he gasped. "An envoy has come from Pelargir. He seeks the most urgent audience with you, Sire. He says that Pelargir is under attack."

  Isildur leaped forward in alarm. "Pelargir attacked? I'll se
e him in the Dome of Stars, at once, do you hear?"

  "Aye, Sire." The guard ran to the stairs, but Isildur was there before him, leaping down the winding stairs like a goat. The others followed as best they could.

  They reached the Great Hall just as the guard led in a haggard man in the livery of Barathor, though it was difficult to make out the colors, so covered was he with dust. His pale face was lined with exhaustion and he seemed ready to fall. Isildur bade him sit and called for wine to wet his throat, but the man shook his head.

  "Isildur King," he gasped, "we are undone. Pelargir is besieged by a great host. The enemy is upon us. Fire and slaughter is at our gate. You must return before it is too late."

  "The enemy, did you say? Did you mark their livery?"

  "Aye, Sire. They wore scarlet and black and bore the banner of Herumor. It is the Corsairs right enough, Sire."

  Isildur struck his fist against his own brow. "How can this be true? We left but five days ago, and the Elves were no more than a day or two away." He sprang to his feet and began pacing distractedly. "What can have happened? There was no sign of an attack. The picket ships were still on guard at Ethir Anduin."

  "Sire," blurted out the messenger. "Forgive me, Sire, but there is no time to be lost. The attack was well under way when I left. The city may already have fallen."

  Isildur glared at him then, his eyes hard. He was not accustomed to being ordered about by a soldier. But as he looked, the man swayed and would have fallen, had not Elrond caught him and helped him to a chair.

  "Yes, you are right, of course." He called to some officers standing nearby. "You there! Find Lord Barathor and bid him come here at once. Elrond, summon if you will the Lord and Lady, and Gildor, too. Find Ohtar and have him bring all the chief captains. We must hold council at once. Make haste!"

  The room was suddenly empty, save only Isildur and the messenger, slumped in his chair, his head down on the table. Isildur stood long, staring at his heaving back, thinking, calculating distances and marching speeds.

  Barathor rushed unheralded into the hall with several of his officers. He was still straightening his clothes and he looked angry at the peremptory summons.

  "What is it?" he bellowed. "What is the sudden hurry?" Then the messenger looked up at his lord and struggled to his feet. Barathor saw him and started.

  "Arador? Is that you? What are you doing here?" Then seeing the look in Arador's eyes, his heart froze in his chest. "What is it, man? What has happened?"

  Arador struggled to Barathor and fell to his knees before him. "Oh, my lord. Forgive this poor messenger. It was the Corsairs, my lord. They have burned the fleet. They are even now besieging Pelargir, if it still stands."

  Barathor seemed to shrink. His face went white. "By all the Valar…" he began, then he collected himself. He bade Arador return to his seat. "Tell us what happened," he said.

  Elrond came in with the Elven lords. They stopped when they saw the stricken faces of everyone in the hall.

  "Two dawns past," Arador began, "a great fleet came up the River in the dark to our quays. We went forth to greet them, thinking them to be Cirdan and his Elves…" He looked quickly up at Isildur, then away. "As you had told us, Sire," he added.

  "But then arrows flew and fires sprang up among our ships and then we saw that the ships were black and filled with our enemies. They fell on us with great slaughter. The horns were sounded to call the people back into the city, but many were cut down before they could gain the gate, for few bore arms. My lord Duitirith sent me after you to bring you back. I have ridden here without stopping, hoping to catch you up on the road."

  The Pelargrim looked at one another in horror.

  "What was the situation when you left?" asked Barathor.

  "A large number of people had gone down to the quays to greet the ships. Many died on the dock and along the quays, but the greater part were fleeing to the gate with Duitirith and some of his knights guarding their rear. They should have reached the gate. The Corsairs were still disembarking and unloading their siege engines."

  "How many were they?" asked Gildor.

  "I do not know. But many, many. They came in many large ships. It was still dark when I left, hard to see in the smoke and confusion, and many had not yet landed. But when I reached the rise of the road I looked back. I could see three score at least of biremes in the river and perhaps a dozen large galleasses."

  "But that must be every ship in Umbar!" cried Barathor. "That could be twenty thousand men at least, perhaps thirty. It will be ten to one at best."

  "You say it was still dark when you left," said Gildor. "How can you be so sure of the number of ships?"

  Arador looked at the king with a cold eye. "They were easy to see by that time, Sire. The river was lighted up all the way to the far shore by our burning ships."

  "All of the ships?" asked one of the Pelargrim captains. "Did not one get away?"

  "No. It all happened so suddenly. The Corsairs hurled burning skins of oil amongst the ships. All were alight in moments. If any men reached their ships, they died in them."

  "Think you that Duitirith can hold the walls?" asked Meneldil.

  Arador looked up proudly into the Steward's eyes. "He will hold them or die in the attempt. His men are well-trained and they are fighting for the lives of their families. But they are so very few. And the Corsairs have siege engines. I would not think they could hold out for more than a few days."

  Barathor shook his head, envisioning the Umbardrim host around the walls of Pelargir, his son fighting the hopeless battle, the city in flames, the terrified women and children hiding in their homes.

  "But what of Cirdan?" he cried. "Was he not guarding the river?"

  "Nay, my lord. We saw no sign of the Elves."

  Barathor wheeled on Isildur. "You said the Elves would be there! You said the River would be guarded!" Isildur stared at him helplessly, unable to answer.

  "Ah, my city!" wailed Barathor. "My son!" He swung about aimlessly, like a caged bear unable to reach his tormentors. "Why did I leave? Oh, Eru, why did I leave? What are we doing here while Pelargir burns?"

  "We all came here to defend Gondor," said Ingold of Calembel, who had come in with the other captains while Arador was finishing his report.

  "Yes! We came here to defend Gondor. We guard Osgiliath and we left Pelargir unguarded. But all the time the attack was to be against Pelargir, not Osgiliath. Oh, Isildur, what have you done to us? And now fair Pelargir is destroyed. I have betrayed my trust and delivered my charge into the hands of our enemies. May my ancestors forgive me, for I will have no descendants!"

  Then Arador cried out. "Do not despair, my lord. Captain Duitirith sent me to you not to bring you news of defeat, but to seek your aid. I rode one mount to death and had to steal another, but I could not overtake you on the road. At every turn I prayed I would see you ahead and we would race back together like the wind. Always my last sight of the city was before my eyes. But each mile was another in the wrong direction. Now I have found you at last, will you not ride with me at once to Pelargir? The city may yet stand!"

  Then Barathor looked to Isildur, standing with bowed head. "Arador is right, Sire," said Barathor. "We have made a terrible error by coming here. We may perchance yet save Pelargir. Or if not," he added grimly, "we shall at least avenge it."

  But Meneldil stepped forward. "My King, you must not leave Osgiliath now. If Pelargir is indeed fallen, the Corsairs will not long tarry there. They will strike here next. They may even now be sweeping up the River to assail us. Pelargir may be but the prelude to a concerted assault from the south and the east. It is too late to save Pelargir, but not Osgiliath. You must stand by us here."

  Barathor turned to the Steward, his fists clenched and his face dark with anger. "My city is burning and my people cry to us for help, Meneldil. Would you have us stand idly by while they die? Can you think of nothing but Osgiliath? Is Pelargir but a worthless pawn to be sacrificed?"

  Menel
dil stepped back a pace, but he did not stand down. "I am Lord of Osgiliath, Lord Barathor, and this city must always be my first concern. But I am also Steward of Gondor, and we must now think of standing together against our foes before we are all swept away. Pelargir is a staunch ally and her people are our brothers. My wife's family is there, and my brother's. My heart is heavy with grief. But this is not the hour for incaution and rash actions. Stay a moment and think what this could portend.

  "If Pelargir is truly taken, then not only the Anduin is unguarded. The River Poros also is open to the Corsairs. If the border garrisons at the Crossings of the Poros be not taken already, they shall surely fall soon as well. We knew the Haradrim were strengthening their forces near the border. They could be pouring across the border into Harithilien already, marching to attack us. The Úlairi, those most fell servants of Sauron, hold Minas Ithil, but ten leagues from where we stand. We are threatended from the south and east. If the army now goes south to Pelargir, Osgiliath will surely share her fate. It is possible, as you say, that a great error has been made. History shall decide that, if there be any left to write it. But let us at least learn from our error, not repeat it and again draw our forces away from the point of attack."

  "You are too quick to concede the loss of Pelargir, Meneldil," said Barathor. "If Pelargir has not yet fallen, then a swift blow from us now could yet save her and vanquish the Corsairs. Then the River could be guarded and Osgiliath would again be safe from attack from the south. We must ride at once."

  "The attack was already two days past," said Elendur. "It will take two more to return. Could Pelargir stand for four days against so many, Lord Barathor? Undermanned and with her fleet destroyed? I know well your agony, but do you think it possible that Pelargir yet stands?"

  "My people are brave and fierce in battle, Prince Elendur, and they are led by my son Duitirith. They will fight to the last man. They could yet be holding the walls. And if so, even now they will be looking over their shoulders to the River Road, watching for our return. Would you have us simply drink another glass of wine and let them be slaughtered without trying to come to their aid? No! I shall go to them at once, if I have to ride alone."