Isildur Page 20

  "Who are you strangers to ride thus armed in Gondor?" he called. "And if you came from Pelargir, what do you know of its fate?"

  Then Cirdan urged his horse forward. The man's eyes widened as he realized he was addressing not Men but Elves.

  "From your haste, sir," said Cirdan with a smile "I take you to be Lord Barathor. I am Cirdan, called the Shipwright, Master of Mithlond in the land of Lindon. And as for your city, it is safe."

  Barathor's people cried out in amazement. Their astonishment and the change in their faces was wonderful to behold.

  "But…," Barathor stammered, at a loss for words. "But we heard the city was besieged. We have ridden with images of fire and slaughter before our eyes. We feared it already lost."

  "The fleet is destroyed, it is true, but your banner yet flies from the Blue Tower. The walls are blackened and many defenders have fallen, but your son and his people held the walls until we arrived."

  "You saw my son?" asked Barathor, his voice tight with tension. He paused, as if afraid to ask the next question.

  "He is alive and unhurt. We left him feasting in thanksgiving this hour two days past. Your Lady was with him."

  Barathor's relief was evident in his face, but he quickly asked, "And the Corsairs?"

  "We fell on them from the rear as they attacked the city. They are utterly destroyed. The Black Fleet will trouble you no more."

  Then Barathor's dark face was split by a wide white grin. He whipped out his sword and threw it spinning high above his head. It glinted and flashed in the bright sun before he caught it deftly by the hilt. The Men back in the main column were staring at him in wonder. No doubt they thought him struck fey. But two of the knights were already spurring their horses back to deliver the news. In a moment a great cheer broke out in the foremost ranks and rolled back through the column as the word spread.

  Barathor directed his men to fall out in a field beside the road and the Elves joined them to tell what they knew of the battle. The mood was festive. Flagons of wine were broken out and passed around. Amroth soon realized that many of the soldiers were in fact mariners from the fleet of Pelargir. There were many downcast faces when they were told of the burning of the fleet, but they asked the Elves over and over to tell them the details of the naval engagement. They laughed aloud at the confusion of their ancient enemies when the White Fleet had appeared completely unlooked for at their rear. But the listeners' mood became more somber as they came to realize the losses suffered by the defenders.

  "And what of young Foradan?" asked Barathor. "He was at the bridge over the Sirith.It was his first command."

  "I know not, my lord," replied Cirdan, but Amroth shook his head.

  "Lost, my lord, with all his garrison," he said. "I heard the tale at the feast. The quays were so crowded with the ships of both fleets, many in flames, that some of the Corsairs landed on the other side of the Sirith. Many of the Pelargir people who had gone down to the docks were still rushing back to the gates. If the Corsairs had won across the bridge quickly they could have cut them off. The situation was desperate, because the gates were of course still open. Foradan's men held the bridge long enough to allow the people to escape and to close the gates before the Corsairs could reach them. It was a hopeless struggle, but every man of them held his ground until he was slain. They delayed the Umbardrim just long enough.

  Barathor shook his head sadly. "Foradan dead? That noble young man? He was so eager to ride with us, but I ordered him to hold the bridge."

  "From all accounts, my lord, he did all that could be done."

  "And you say losses were heavy? Do you need medical assistance? I have several skilled physicians with me."

  "No, my lord," said Cirdan. "My own healers are among them now. They can get no better treatment anywhere in Middle-earth."

  Cirdan assured them that his own ships would soon be on station at the Ethir and patrolling the River, and that his people were helping Luindor to begin rebuilding the fleet.

  "Then there is no need for us to go to Pelargir?" asked Barathor.

  "None whatsoever," replied Cirdan. "Your son told me particularly to tell you that he has everything well in hand. And it is true. With the people that I left there and the supplies we brought in the fleet, they lack for nothing. The mood of the city is one of thanksgiving."

  "Then we shall return to Osgiliath at once. These injuries we have suffered are the work of Sauron. Let us ride with Isildur and repay these debts. We shall take the war to Sauron's door and let him taste his own bitter medicine."

  His men cheered and clashed their weapons together, eager now for revenge.

  "Come, my lads," he roared. "Back to Osgiliath, and thence to Mordor!"

  And so the column formed up again, back the way they had come. But what a difference in their manner! Instead of galloping at full speed, they now cantered easily, their helmets slung at their saddles. They laughed and called to one another and asked endless questions of the Elves. They passed through a few brief rain showers, but no one minded.

  And thus after a hazardous voyage and a long ride, Cirdan and his Elves arrived at last at many-towered Osgiliath. Topping a small rise, they saw below them the capital of Gondor within its walls. It was the largest city many of them had ever seen. It stretched for over two miles along the banks of Anduin, with street after street of stately mansions and temples and public buildings. Domes and towers and minarets bristled into the sky. The wide Anduin wandered through the city, and across its heart stood an immense many-arched bridge like no other in Middle-earth. It was so large that it was lined with houses along both sides, each with several balconies and cloistered walkways out over the River. And beyond Anduin the city continued again, stretching away into the distance.

  Amroth had been surprised by Pelargir, but he stared in wonder at this immense city, much larger even than Mithlond, and yet all so new in comparison. Few of the buildings had seen their first yén. It was as if it had sprung up overnight. Amroth wondered how mortal Men could build so much in such a short time, and all without even the most basic Elvish arts, that they in their ignorance call magic. He spurred his horse and caught up with Cirdan, now jogging along a little apart from the others.

  "My Lord," he said. "This city the Men have built is a wonder to behold."

  "Aye," he agreed. "Isildur and Anárion have made much progress in a few short years. And Elendil's city at Annúminas is nearly as great."

  "Does it not surprise you, Lord, that creatures as ephemeral as these Atani find time enough in their brief lives to create such beauty, and on such a scale? Generations must toil and die that their descendants, whom they will never know, should have a fair home. It is as if they forget that they are mortal."

  Cirdan's eyes moved over the city, taking in detail after detail. Each tower seemed lovelier than the last; each house more stately; each monument and arch more impressive.

  "Perhaps it is because they are aware of their mortality that they build so feverishly," he mused. "Though they will be gone, the builders will be remembered as long as the buildings themselves stand. Perhaps it is their way of grasping at the ages that are our birthright."

  Amroth considered this. "You may be right, my Lord," he conceded. "But do you ever wonder, if our roles were reversed, would we Quendi do as well?"

  "That we shall never know. The Gift of Man is forever denied us."

  "The Atani do not call death the Gift of Man but the Doom of Man."

  "It is because they do not know so much of life or death as we Quendi. They see death but as an ending, and they are reluctant to end."

  "And who is the more fortunate, I wonder? Their experience of life is brief, but is it not more intense for that? These Atani die quickly, but they also live quickly. They move and change more easily than do we. They have not our ancient wisdom, but they are clever and adaptable. They bear children when they are little more than children themselves, still in their tweens or even teens. Their numbers are constantly growing,
while ours do not. And when we take the Straight Road and leave the circles of the world, they shall remain."

  Amroth thought about this for a while. "I wonder what will come of the world when we Quendi have all sailed away and the world will be ruled by Men?"

  "Only Eru knows that," Cirdan answered, "but for my part I think it will be a sadder and less fair place when the lore and the arts and the music of the Elves has passed from the world. I am glad I will not be here to see it. But for now, the Atani are loyal and valuable allies against the Enemy. They are our only hope of casting down Sauron, as should have been done when his master was expelled forever from the circles of the world."

  Then they were approaching the gate and they turned their attention to the city. The gates were thrown open and they rode in to the cheers of the people of Osgiliath, for they had seen the Elves among the Pelargrim and knew what that signified.

  Barathor led them through the city to the stairs of the great hall where the king dwelt. Isildur himself came down to meet them. He looked from Cirdan to Barathor's beaming face.

  "My Lord Cirdan," he said. "What news of Pelargir?"

  "We arrived but a few hours after the siege began," replied Cirdan. "Eru saw fit to give us the victory. The Corsairs are defeated and the city is safe. We left our people there and hurried to Osgiliath with all speed, for we knew Barathor had been summoned. I feared the alliance would be dissolved."

  "Welcome news at last," said Isildur, standing up straighter and a smile lighting his face. "Welcome, Lords, to Osgiliath. Our undying thanks to you for your aid in our darkest hour."

  "We know not how dark our hours may yet become, Isildur. We have won a battle, but the war is yet to be decided."

  "True that is, but still we are much heartened that Pelargir is saved. And we are most happy to have our friend Barathor and his brave men with us again."

  Isildur and Barathor clasped arms. Amroth stood looking on, smiling at the relief in every face. Then a tall figure came down the stairs behind Isildur, and to Amroth's surprise he recognized a friend.

  "Elrond Peredhil!" he cried. "Are you here as well?" He looked at Amroth and smiled.

  "Is that Lord Amroth?" he called.

  "It is, and a changed Elf you find me, for I have sailed upon the Sea and my heart is moved."

  "The Sea is always dangerous to the Noldor," said Elrond. "Welcome to Osgiliath. You will find many here that you know, some even from your homeland. There are a number of Sindar among us." He bowed to Cirdan.

  "And welcome to you, Lord Cirdan. It would seem you had an eventful voyage."

  "So we did. It is good to see you again, Elrond. I last saw you marching from Lindon in Gil-galad's host, ten sun-rounds ago."

  "Aye," he said. "Much has been accomplished since that day, but not all that we had hoped."

  "I see we will have many tales to exchange," said Isildur. "Now come into my hall, if you please, Lords, and we shall endeavor to make you feel welcome." And he led them up the broad stairs to his hall.

  "This is a wondrous fair city, Isildur," Amroth said. "We marvelled much when we first saw it. The towers seem to scrape the sky."

  "There are more wonders within," said Elrond. "You have yet to see the Dome of Stars. I have never seen a more beautiful hall. You would think you were in Eldamar."

  "Such a sight I would gladly see," said Amroth, but Barathor took his leave, saying he wished to deliver the glad tidings himself to those of his people who had remained in Osgiliath.

  "Farewell, Lords of the Firstborn," he called. "And to you and all your folk goes the honor and praise of a grateful people. You will not be forgotten while Pelargir stands upon its hill."

  "Your thanks are not necessary, Lord Barathor," said Cirdan. "Your enemies are ours. For are we not allies in a common cause? Your steadfast courage is known even in far-off Lindon, and we know you would come to our aid at need. And indeed you may get many opportunities in the days to come."

  "Farewell, Barathor," said Isildur. "And the council will be in the Dome of Stars at the second hour tomorrow."

  "I shall be there, you may be sure. Farewell, my king." And Barathor led his men back to the fields near the southern gate where they had decamped but a few hours before.

  Isildur showed the others into his hall, and there they were met by Celeborn and Galadriel, both dressed all in white. Celeborn wore a simple circlet of mithril about his brow, and the Lady had a garland of blossoms twined in her hair. She smiled at sight of them and came forward with open arms.

  "Welcome, cousins," she said in her melodious voice. "Elen síla lúmenn omentilmo."

  Lord Cirdan bowed deeply. "Surely, lovely Lady," he said, "a star does indeed shine on our meeting. I am heartened to see you and your people here in our common need. It has been many yén since last we met."

  "So it has, Shipwright," said Celeborn. "We none of us travel so much as we were once wont, since these evil days have come upon the world. May all soon be again as it once was."

  "And Amroth," said Galadriel to the Sindarin lord, "our neighbor of old. Long have you been away from the Golden Wood."

  "Yes, Lady," he replied, "I have travelled much since I left my home in Lothlórien, and I have seen much of the world — some that was fair and some that was horrible to look upon."

  "There is something fair in the Golden Wood that pines for a sight of you, Amroth," said Galadriel with a smile.

  Amroth flushed. "How is my Nimrodel?" he asked.

  "Lovelier than ever," said Celeborn, "and when any traveller comes to the Wood she asks for news of you."

  "I would that I could come unto her again, but this war sends me ever hither and yon. I shall not return to Cerin Amroth until either Sauron is defeated or I lay slain."

  "Let us pray it is the former," said Celeborn, "and not long delayed. Too long has that spawn of Melkor defiled the land. We too are come here to Osgiliath to see this through to the end."

  "And I," said Cirdan.

  "And so for all of us," said Isildur. "But that is for tomorrow. For tonight let us rest and take food and wine and such comforts as I can offer you."

  "Yes, certainly," said Amroth. "But first let us see this famous chamber that Elrond praises so highly."

  Isildur led them through several wide passages until he came to a pair of great oaken doors that stretched nearly to the high vaulted roof. He set his hand to one of the doors and it swung back silently and effortlessly. They entered the Dome of Stars and stopped, struck by the beauty around them.

  They stood in silence, heads craned back, slowly turning about to view the entire sky.

  "Look there," Amroth said, pointing. "There is Menelvagor the Swordsman with his belt. How the Pommel Star shines in his upraised hand. It must be a great ruby."

  "And there above him the netted Remmirath," exclaimed Cirdan. "Isildur, I have gazed at the stars a thousand thousand nights, but they have never appeared more fair than this. Their beauty rivals nature's."

  "It is my father's design," Isildur smiled. "He built it to honor the stars for guiding us safely back to Middle-earth after the downfall of Númenor. The stars are as they were when seen from the peak of Meneltarma in the midst of Númenor."

  "This is a great treasure, Isildur," said Cirdan.

  "Other treasures the Gondorrim have in this hall," said Celeborn. "Isildur showed us the great master palantír of Fëanor."

  "That is rumored to be among the greatest of all the works made by the Elves in the Elder Days," said Cirdan. "Would it be permitted to view it?"

  "Of course," bowed Isildur. "I have it in my inner sanctum. And perhaps that would be a safer place to discuss other matters close to our hearts."

  A significant glance passed among the Lords. They accompanied Isildur into a small dark chamber lit by a single hanging lamp. In its center stood a short marble column shrouded in dark velvet. Isildur drew away the cloth, revealing a crystal globe..

  "This is the Master Stone," said Isildur, "the only palan
tír that can speak to each of the others. Watch you the globe." He stood by the column and laid his hands on either side of it. They all gathered around and watched intently as the darkness within the crystal swirled and cleared. Tiny shapes seemed to move and form within the mists. Then Amroth found himself looking out from a high place over a walled city. The city clung to a steep rocky slope at the head of a mountain valley. It dropped down step after step, each level ringed by its own wall. A road wound down from level to level, emerging finally from a massive gate and stretching away across a wide rolling land. In the distance he could see an even greater city with many towers and a river flowing through it. Suddenly he recognized that distant city.

  "Why that is Osgiliath!" he cried. "I am over a mountain fortress, but I can see Osgiliath in the distance. I can make out the dome of the very hall where we now stand."

  "You must be seeing the Anor stone, Lord Amroth," said Isildur. "That is in the city of Minas Anor to the west, in the Ered Nimrais. You may have seen it high above you as you approached Osgiliath."

  "I see a great rocky valley," said Galadriel, looking into the stone from the other side. "A mighty spire of black rock thrusts up from its midst. That can only be Orthanc, in the valley of Angrenost. It is as if I were flying high above it."

  "I see something different," said Elrond. "I see a wide land of brown hills amid scattered forests. One hill, standing alone, is crowned by a stone tower. I seem to be flying toward it. Why, surely that is Amon Sûl, not far from my home in Imladris. How strange to see it from above."

  "I see a great walled city beside a lake," said Celeborn. "That can only be Elendil's city of Annúminas by Lake Nenuial."