Isildur Page 15

  Barathor turned to Isildur, who had still not spoken. "What say you, my king?" he asked. "Will you not ride with us?"

  Then Isildur looked up and met the eyes of Barathor and Arador and the other Pelargrim. His own eyes were filled with anguish and sorrow.

  "My friends," he said. "This is an evil choice. How can I choose between two cities that I love? Osgiliath is my own capital, the heart of my kingdom. But Pelargir too is part of Gondor and I am responsible for her safety as well. The people of Pelargir welcomed me and succored me when I was cast up on their shore on the wings of storm. They ceded me this land on which we stand, and they helped to haul the stones of this tower. Now, at my own behest Pelargir has left herself in mortal danger. Can I now ignore her calls for help in her hour of greatest need? How can I refuse my aid to either city?"

  "Sire," cried Meneldil, "this is your own city. It was conceived by you and my father. You laid out its very streets. If you leave us now you are casting away our only hope. For eleven years now we have fought and prepared, always waiting for the blow which must surely come. And all that time we knew we would not be able to withstand a concerted attack. With our kings and most of our fighting men away in Gorgoroth, what hope could we have against an all-out attack from Ithilien?

  "It was been a most anxious wait. Now at last you have come back to us, and with an army that could repulse the enemy, drive him from Ithilien, perhaps even throw down the Dark Tower itself. For the first time in years, we have felt true hope again. Now as the Black Hand is stretched forth for our throats, would you ride away again to leave us to our fate? Do not let the agony of Pelargir draw you from your true duty. The main attack, when it comes, will be against the capital. Your place is here in Osgiliath."

  Then the king rose up tall and menacing and he shouted, "Tell me not my duty, Meneldil! You are my Steward, not my master. I am King of Gondor, and I take orders only from Elendil, High King of the Realms in Exile."

  Meneldil fell back and bowed. It had been long since he had had to bow to any man. But still he was not cowed.

  "Sire," he said. "I do not presume to tell you your duty. But this is a momentous decision. The fate of us all could ride on it. Perhaps if you consulted with your father…" He let his voice trail off, not sure how much he should say before all these foreigners.

  "Yes," said Isildur. "The plans of the Lords of the West have gone all amiss now and we must plan anew. They must be made aware of what has happened."

  "But Sire," said Barathor. "We must ride at once or Pelargir is lost."

  "We have a means for speaking with Elendil in Gorgoroth, even from here in the Tower, Lord Barathor. I say to you, prepare your men to ride to Pelargir at once. I will give you my decision within the hour."

  Barathor stared at him a moment, not understanding, but then he wheeled and hurried from the room, with Arador and the other Pelargrim close behind. Isildur watched them go with anguished eyes.

  "My heart tells me to join them, Ohtar," he murmured privately. "But Meneldil is probably right. My place is in the capital." He looked then at the Elves standing near by. "My Lords of the Eldar," he said. "I would have you accompany me. We must take counsel with Gil-galad and my father. We must make the greatest haste. Come, into my private chambers. Ohtar, get thee to the camp and see that all is ready for a quick departure. Meneldil, look to the defenses of the city. Double the guards along the quays and riverbanks. The Corsairs could appear at any moment. The orcs too could take advantage of our confusion to attack at once. War is upon us, whether I stay or go!"

  Then Isildur and the Eldar retired to the king's apartments, close behind the Dome of Stars. He led them into a small dark room without windows, lit only by a small hanging lamp. The only furniture was a marble pedestal in the center of the room, supporting something round covered by a cloth of gold. They gathered around it as Isildur closed the door. He stepped up to the pedestal and carefully drew off the cloth, and behold, atop the column was a great round crystal as large as a man's head. Dark it was, and yet something seemed to move within it, like a fire smoldering within a shroud of smoke. They stared at it in wonder.

  "This is a treasure beyond value," whispered Celeborn.

  "It is very beautiful," said Elrond. "But what is it?"

  "This is a palantír," said Isildur. "One of the seven Seeing Stones, heirlooms of my house. It may be the oldest made object in all of Middle-earth."

  "The palantíri were wrought by the hand of my uncle, Fëanor Firespirit himself, in Aman when the world was young," said Galadriel. "They remained long the pride of all his works, and it was a sign of the special esteem in which the Eldar hold your house, Isildur, that they were given to Amandil your grandsire."

  "They were an aid and a comfort to us Faithful of Númenor," said Isildur, "and they remained there until its fall. My father brought them to Middle-earth, where we now use them to speak one to another, though vast distances separate us. This is the Master Stone, that can speak to each. I had another at Minas Ithil and took it with me when I was forced to abandon my city at the beginning of the war. My father now has it in his camp in Gorgoroth. That is the stone I must contact."

  Then he laid his hands on the globe. The mists inside swirled at his touch and the red glow brightened, lighting Isildur's intent face. He bent his mind upon the stone, willing it to speak out to its mate in the plains of Mordor.

  The others watched silently. The smoke writhed within, and images began to form. Tiny they were, as if viewed from a great height. Each cloudscape formed but for a moment before swirling away. The light grew and the images became clearer. There were mountains in the clouds now; black crags thrusting through a swirling reek. The red glow pulsed, as if a heart of fire beat beneath the clouds. Then another dark pinnacle appeared, but this was no mountain summit. High it reared, higher than any mountain, with sheer black sides and a jagged crown. Looking closer, they could see that it was a mighty fortress, with battlements on the parapets, and many turrets and a myriad of tiny windows glowing orange and red.

  "Behold the Barad-dûr," said Isildur softly, and the room seemed to grow chill at the sound of that fell name.

  The image grew, swelling larger and larger until it filled the globe, and it was as if they were descending through the clouds toward the Tower. Finally a torn and tortured land appeared far below. It was all a somber ash gray, slashed by deep cracks and crossed with black tongues of old lava flows. There on the very edge of a smoking chasm lay the only spot of color in all that wide land — a small square patch of many bright colors, like a scrap of embroidered cloth dropped near the brooding walls of the Tower. As the view continued to descend and grow, they saw that the bright square was in fact a huge city of tents for a vast army that now could be seen moving about the slag heaps.

  The globe settled toward one of the larger tents, a pavilion of gold and white silk. There was a disorienting moment as the view seemed to pass through the roof of the tent. Then it was if they were gazing not into the globe, but out of it, at a group of men in armor. A tall man with long silver hair came close until his face filled all the globe. Like Isildur, he wore upon his brow a circlet set with a single glowing gem. This was Elendil, High King of the Realms in Exile, and eldest of Men.

  "Ah, Isildur, my son," he said, his voice ringing clear in all their heads, though no sound emerged from the palantír. "I see you are with Elrond and the Galadrim. Are all then gathered for the council on the morrow? Did Elendur arrive safely?"

  "Yes, father, but evil unlooked for has befallen us. Pelargir is assailed by the Corsairs."

  Elendil's face showed his dismay. "Umbar? Oh, that Númenóreans should turn against Númenóreans in such times as these. Curse their black hearts. I wonder that they dare the attempt. The fleet should be more than a match for the Corsairs, as long as the wind holds."

  "The fleet of Pelargir is already destroyed, Sire, and the city but lightly defended. It is not likely that they yet stand."

  Elendil's eyes glar
ed. "Why? Did the patrols not give ample warning? Were they not prepared for the attack? What was Barathor about?"

  "My lord, Barathor and most of his warriors and seamen are here in Osgiliath. At my behest."

  "You told them to leave the Gate of the South open to our enemies? But why?"

  "Because I needed them here. You sent me throughout all of Gondor, and we had hoped to have fifteen or twenty thousand in our host by now. But at every turn we were thwarted. I told you from the Orthanc stone that Calenardhon and Angrenost had but few to spare from the raiding orcs. And at Anglond and again at Ethir Lefnui, the Corsairs attacked and slew many, and we had but few volunteers.

  "Even Romach and the Eredrim have refused us. We had but three thousand when we reached Pelargir. There we met Gildor, just arrived from Mithlond. He told us that Cirdan's fleet would be at Pelargir in a day or two at most. And so Barathor agreed to withdraw the fleet and send every available man with us to Osgiliath. It seemed a necessary risk for a day or two."

  Elendil's face stared grimly from the globe. "Oh, my son, these are terrible tidings indeed," he said at last.

  "Father, I knew the importance of our mission here. What hope would we have trying to attack Minas Ithil with but three thousand men, even with the help of the Elves? I deemed it essential that Barathor ride with us, even though it left Pelargir stripped bare. And loëndë was fast approaching. Cirdan's ships could guard the River, but we could not wait for him. Father, did I do wrong?"

  "No, Isildur," said Elendil. "You did not do wrong. It was a desperate gamble, indeed, but necessary. I suppose I would have done the same in your place. It is a token of the love and loyalty of Barathor that he would even consider leaving Pelargir undefended. But you were correct: if you do not have sufficient force to take Minas Ithil, the entire plan will fail, and we shall be certainly lost. What is the situation now?"

  "We have just learned of the attack, and Barathor is returning to Pelargir. I urged him to remain, but he would fly to Pelargir at once and I didn't feel that I could in conscience try to prevent him."

  "No, of course not."

  "He wishes me to go with him, to take the whole army back to Pelargir. And as he only left at my repeated pleading, I feel responsible for the people he left behind."

  Elendil looked at his son with compassion in his eyes. "And you are torn as to what you should do?"

  "Yes. If I stay here, Pelargir is almost certain to fall if it has not already."

  "And if you go with Barathor, Sauron could choose that moment to attack Osgiliath."

  "Yes. If Pelargir is taken, the Corsairs will be at our gates in a few days. They could attack while we are on the road back to Pelargir. Either choice could bring disaster." Elendil nodded his head, a humorless tight smile on his lips.

  "It is at such times that the crown wears heavy on the head, does it not?" he said. "What do you intend to do?"

  "I will bid him go, but I shall remain here with the rest of my men. We shall continue with the plan as best we can."

  "Yes, that is probably the best. You should not leave Osgiliath unguarded now. You could find Pelargir sacked and return to find Osgiliath burning, and probably Minas Anor as well. But it is not easy to stand idly by and see our friends fall." He shook his head sadly. "May the Powers be with you, and with the Pelargrim."

  "My lord," said Galadriel. "Is Gil-galad nigh? I would speak with him on a different matter, though no less grave."

  "Aye, he is here." A proud and stately Elf appeared, clad in silver mail and a long blue cloak. "Galadriel," he said with a smile. "Greetings to you, cousin. You grow more beautiful as the yén flow by."

  "Elen síla lúmenn omentilmo," she replied. "It is good to see you well. My king, I have done as you bade me." And she held up her hand. Nenya glinted like the Evenstar on her hand. "And Elrond Halfelven is here, with your Vilya. We expect Cirdan any day with Narya."

  "Good. Then the Three are gathered together at last, as has never been since the day Sauron's treachery was revealed."

  "That is my concern," said Galadriel. "Perhaps you are right and the time has come to use the Three against him. But is it wise to bring them all together? Was this not Sauron's whole purpose in this war: to draw them to him so he could take them all together?"

  "It may well be so, Lady. But we know not if we still have the strength to oppose him. All our force of arms, great as it is, we fear insufficient to stop him if he emerges from the Tower in his full strength. We shall have need of all our weapons if that should occur."

  "But if we should fail; if he were to take the Three?"

  "Then all would be lost and the West would be helpless against him."

  "Exactly. Can any reward be worth such a risk?"

  "We have long debated just this question, Lady. Our thought was that if he knew the Three were near, he would be drawn out of his fortress and we could at last test our strength against his. We are sick and weary of this waiting. It has been too long, especially for our allies the Men."

  "You would risk all for this one confrontation?"

  "We cannot hope to defeat him by waiting here. He is in no hurry. He can wait until we are so weakened and dispirited that our alliance founders. We must draw him out now. It is that or withdraw."

  "But would not one of the Three be sufficient? I will bring Nenya and we shall fight together, shoulder-to-shoulder as we did against Morgoth. But let Vilya and Narya remain here in case we fall."

  Gil-galad shook his head. "We considered that path as well. We fear that any single ring might prove insufficient against the One. And perhaps be insufficient bait, as well."

  "But to reveal the Three! This is a desperate chance."

  "It is indeed. A desperate chance for desperate times."

  Galadriel bowed her head. "We have great reservations about this course you have chosen, Gil-galad. But we will do as you bid."

  "Thank you, Lady. And thank you, Lord Celeborn. I well know what you are risking by bringing your rings here."

  Celeborn bowed his head grimly. "Yes. All the good that we have done in Middle-earth could be undone in a moment. Lothlórien would cease to exist. But we defer to your judgement, O king."

  "Elrond, a word," said Gil-galad.

  "Sire?" answered Elrond, stepping forward.

  "I would have you bring Vilya to me here. But I caution you against its use except in the most critical need. It is the mightiest of all the Three, and I fear lest any wear it save myself."

  "It shall be done as you say, Sire," replied Elrond.

  Trumpets sounded from without. "Barathor is preparing to depart," said Isildur. "We must go."

  "Yes," said Gil-galad. "And you must come to us here as quickly as you can. Orodruin's rumblings increase with each passing day. We suspect Sauron is preparing to attack. May Eru be with you."

  "And with you, Lords. Goodbye."

  The stone grew cloudy again and the light faded. Isildur covered it again, his face grave.

  "It is as I thought," he said to Elrond. "My duty must be here in Osgiliath. Yet if I were free I would fly to Pelargir as fast as Fleetfoot could run."

  They returned to the Dome of Stars and thence to the portico that fronted the Great Hall. The dark clouds they had seen at sunrise were now covering the sky, though here and there light slanted down, highlighting a gilded dome here, a white tower there. Just as they emerged, Barathor rode into the square with Arador and some others of the captains of Pelargir. They rode to the foot of the steps.

  "We are ready to ride, Sire," called Barathor from his saddle. "Will you not come with us? We need your strength."

  Isildur looked sadly at the Lord of Pelargir. "My friend, I fear your choice is ill. The attack on Pelargir may well prove to be but the first stroke of Sauron's attack on Gondor. If so, it will not be long before the plains yonder will be black with orcs. Then will Osgiliath in turn need your strength. I would have you here when that attack comes. But I cannot stay you against your will. In your place I would n
o doubt do the same.

  "I love you as a brother, Barathor son of Boromir, but I cannot ride with you. My place is here. If you must go, I beg you to part as friends and allies still. And when your task in Pelargir be finished, whether relief or revenge, I ask you to return to us. For the mind that directed the attack on Pelargir is not in that city, but there before us, in the east."

  "I understand, Sire," said Barathor. "And I shall return when I can. Farewell, Isildur Elendilson."

  "Farewell, Barathor. Ride faster than the wind, and may you find the sea-blue pennant still fluttering from the walls of Pelargir."

  Then raising his sword, Barathor called, "Ride, Men of Pelargir. Ride as you have never ridden before." His horse reared and gave a great cry like a call to war, then wheeled and plunged down the road to the south gate. His officers followed in a cloud of dust and a thunder of hooves.

  Isildur stood and watched them go, then he and his party returned to the hall and ascended again the great tower. They stood looking out over the city. Isildur was deep in thought, his face as grave as it had ever been.

  "My mind is much troubled," he said to no one in particular. "Did I well or ill this day? I stayed here, dooming Pelargir to fire and pillage, so that Osgiliath might be protected. But now Barathor takes the greater part of my forces. It may be that his force is now too weak to save Pelargir and mine too weak to protect Osgiliath. Should I have tried to stop him? Might it not have been better to remain united and pursue one course or the other with our full strength?"

  "Nay," said Galadriel. "Fault not yourself in this. You could not in faith leave Osgiliath — you saw that well enough. And yet you could not stay Barathor. He would not have been swayed by any words of yours or ours, and you cannot bind an ally to you against his will. You have done well at least to preserve the alliance. Perhaps he will yet return in time."