Isildur Page 21

  Cirdan stood in silence, then he murmured quietly. "I see beyond this mortal world, to the mountains of Eldamar, far Elvenhome across the sea."

  "That would be the view from the Tower Hills," said Isildur. "On the western borders of my father's kingdom of Arnor. From that stone alone can Eldamar be seen from Middle Earth."

  Isildur too looked in the stone, but he saw through the Ithil stone, now on the plains of Gorgoroth, and of what he saw he spoke not. Then he took his hands away and stepped back and the stone again grew dark.

  "You have shown us great wonders, Isildur," said Cirdan, "Yet I believe that the stone is perhaps not the greatest treasure in this chamber today."

  Galadriel looked at him gravely. "Have you then brought your burden as Gil-galad asked, Shipwright?"

  "I have," answered Cirdan, drawing forth from his pocket a small leather wallet on a chain. Reaching in, he withdrew a golden ring with a great glowing ruby that seemed to shine with its own light in the dim chamber. "Here is Narya, the Ring of Fire, kept hidden since it was given to me by Celebrimbor more than twelve yén ago."

  Amroth looked at it in wonder. He had heard of the Three Rings of Power, of course, but they had been hidden so long and their location kept such a closely guarded secret, that he had never thought to see one. It loomed so large in the Elves' history and councils that he was somehow surprised to find it but a ring after all, though the loveliest he had ever seen.

  Then Galadriel drew forth a fine silver chain from between her breasts, and lo, it bore a great ring of mithril with a single white adamant that sparkled like the Evenstar on a clear evening. "And here is Nenya," she said, "the Ring of Water."

  Amroth stood staring, shocked at the display of so much power gathered in one place. Then to his amazement, his friend Elrond beside him drew a similar chain from around his neck. It too bore a ring, this a startling sapphire blue the color of a summer sky. "And here is Vilya," he said, "the Ring of Sky, mightiest of all, which I bear for my king Ereinion the Gil-galad."

  The Ringbearers held them up and the small chamber was filled by the combined light of the Three, their colors mingling into a radiance that shimmered and scintillated, lighting their faces as they stood looking on in awe.

  "And so the Three are together again," said Galadriel, "as has not happened since the day Sauron forged the One and his treachery was revealed."

  "They are beautiful," breathed Amroth.

  "Beautiful indeed," said Celeborn, "and also mighty, for they embody the power imbued upon us Quendi by the Valar in the Beginning of Days."

  "Beautiful and mighty," said Galadriel, "but also most perilous, for all that we have wrought in the world is made through them. If they are lost, all the good that we have ever done will be undone. The fate of the world lies in these Three Rings, my friends, and in that One Ring now on the hand of Sauron.

  "For remember the words that Celebrimbor heard the day the One was forged: " And her lovely clear voice turned harsh and cruel.

  Ash nazg durbatulûk,

  Ash nazg gimbatul,

  Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!

  They all stared in horror at the change that seemed to have come over Galadriel at these words. Her voice had become like the harsh croaking of some huge carrion bird. Cirdan started back aghast, Elrond's hands went to his ears. But Galadriel was unchanged, and her voice returned to normal as she translated:

  One Ring to Rule them all,

  One Ring to find them,

  One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them!

  "You see," she went on, ignoring their horrified looks, "Sauron desires the Three to be brought to him, so he can meld them with his own and absorb all of their power into himself. This has been at the heart of all his devices and stratagems from the beginning. I remember well the words of Celebrimbor the day he gave us the Three: 'Take these Rings, each unto your own lands, and guard them well. Best that they lie unused, for when wielded they may draw Sauron's eye unto them. Above all, they must never be brought together again, for in concert they are more clearly perceived. Would that I had never made them, or that they could be unmade. I cannot keep them, for Sauron knows they are here and even now prepares a stroke against me, a stroke I fear I will be unable to withstand. But I give them unto the steadiest hands still to be found this side of the Sundering Sea.'

  "That stroke he feared came soon after, and both Celebrimbor and all his land of Eregion are no more. Sauron has sought for the Three ever since. I ask you then, are we not playing into his hands to bring the Three into Mordor? Would he not rejoice to know of it?"

  Cirdan shook his wise old head sadly. "Those were black days indeed, Lady. But I fear these are blacker still. Long have we kept the Three hidden and Sauron is stronger than ever. He waits now within his Tower as we gradually weaken, until such time as he deems us sufficiently helpless. Then he will fall upon us as he has done in the past. He was rash when he razed Eregion and he was humbled at last and driven out by Tar-Minastir and Gil-galad. He is more cautious this time.

  "But our time is near at last. Our strength will never be greater. We can only decline and diminish. Even now ships are sailing from Mithlond, bearing the Eldar back over the sea. No more will ever come. Sauron knows that and bides his time.

  "If there is any hope of casting him out, we must strike now, united with the Men, and using all the weapons we possess. If the Three cannot defeat him together, how can we hope to stand against him alone? It is most perilous, but we cannot afford to not use the Three."

  "You speak wisely, Master," Galadriel replied. "But the chance is great. If we fail, all the west is lost, the Atani shall be enslaved, and the light of the Quendi shall pass forever from the world."

  "All the more reason we should not falter or grow overcautious now, Lady," said Elrond. "Think back to the Elder Days, when we fought Morgoth in Thangorodrim. We were cautious then, and it availed us naught. Only the rash courage and bold attack of the Man, Beren One-Hand, brought us the mastery at last. If he had not risked all in the tunnels of Thangorodrim and again in crossing the Shadows, we might all be freezing yet in the icy wastes of Angband, and facing a far greater foe."

  Galadriel nodded. "Sauron was then but a servant of Melkor the Morgoth. Alas! Would we had caught him then in the wrack of Thangorodrim and cast him out with his master. Little did we imagine then the evil that would come from the escape of that poor broken wretch."

  She sighed. "Yes, my friends, you are no doubt correct. We are only finishing a task that was begun long ago. We must see it through to the bitter end, no matter the danger. We must cleanse the world of the last shadow of Morgoth."

  "It is well," said Isildur. "Now it is growing late and we must away to our rest. The council is on the morrow and there much will be revealed. Until then, I bid all of you good night." They separated then, Isildur to his sleep, the Quendi to that pensive silence that serves them for slumber.

  * * *

  The night, being midyear's eve, passed swiftly, and the first cock-crow found Amroth high in the tower above the Dome of Stars. He sat in rest, pondering the stars now fading in the rising glow of the sun as she crept above the Ephel Dúath. Their fading beauty, finally overwhelmed in the harsh glow of the advancing sun, brought to his mind the inevitable fading of the Quendi as they are replaced by the more earthly Atani. Sighing deeply, he rose and looked out over the vast city of Men as it awoke.

  Far below him on the battlement he saw Celeborn and Galadriel walking slowly together, as they have for so many thousands of nights. He wondered what thoughts they shared on this eve of a great battle that could mean the end of all for which they have labored over the ages. If anyone truly knew the terrible danger they were now in, it was they. If Nenya were destroyed, the Golden Wood, their city of Caras Galadon, all of Lothlórien would quickly fade and die. And how each must fear for the other as they go into battle together. The love they share had become ever more legendary as the long ages passed. Amro
th tried to imagine his feelings if he knew his beloved Nimrodel were riding into battle beside him.

  Seeing the people of the city beginning to stir, he descended the tower. He found Cirdan in the chamber of the palantír, looking through it to the stone in the Emyn Beraid, and from thence to the distant towers of Eldamar, whence they would all one day return. They went together to the dining hall, where they found Elrond and Gildor Inglorion and the Lord and Lady already at table. They spoke little to one another, each lost in his own thoughts.

  They had hardly broken their fast before messengers came to them, bidding them to come to the Dome of Stars, for the council was to begin. They were greeted there by a stocky dark man with his hair and his beard alike drawn into long braids. He wore a tunic of light green over good mail, and he greeted the Elves civilly with a deep bow.

  "My Lords and Lady," he said. "I am Ohtar, the king's esquire, and I welcome you to the Great Council of Osgiliath. I bid you to be patient a few moments more, for not all the guests have arrived."

  They were shown to seats at a great table shaped like a crescent moon. At the center of the curve stood two high thrones of ebony chased with many graceful designs in mithril, one draped in white shrouds. In the other sat Isildur, dressed all in white with a white stone bound upon his brow. He rose to greet his guests.

  "Welcome, Firstborn," he called. "Pray take your seats on my either hand. The others are even now arriving."

  They sat in the high-backed chairs and watched as the lords and captains of many lands entered the hall and took their seats, each dressed in the colors and livery of his homeland. There was Barathor, whom they already knew, but there were many others. Amroth had not realized how greatly the race of the Atani had come to vary over the ages. There were tall men of Númenórean descent, like unto Isildur. His son Elendur was the greatest of these. Others were shorter and broader, with long yellow hair and fair faces, having somewhat the coloring of the Noldor. Still others had ruddy faces and carrot-colored hair, while others were a deep brown or black, with curling black hair. A group of dwarves entered and bowed low to Isildur, their long beards sweeping the ground. A herald was announcing each of the nobles as they entered:

  "Thardûn, Captain of Angrenost. Ingold, Master of Calembel. Súrion, Guardian of the isle of Cair Andros. Bergil, Mayor of Minas Anor. Halgon, Master of the Ships of the Harlond. Barathor, Lord of Pelargir. Turgon of Ethir Lefnui."

  Each looked at the Elves as they came in, some in wonder, some in surprise, some in open puzzlement. Few had ever seen Elves before. The names went on and on, but Amroth soon lost track of their many names and titles and lands. Some he did notice. One was a thin, studious-looking young man, Isildur's nephew Meneldil, Prince of Anórien since his father's death. At last all the chairs were filled and the room fell quiet. Isildur stood and called out.

  "Lords, I greet you and welcome you to Osgiliath. We are gathered in answer to a summons from the Lords of the West: my father Elendil, High King of the Realms in Exile, and Gil-galad, King of the Eldar. We are called to decide matters of great moment today, decisions that will change the course of the world. For long now we have endeavored to keep our plans hidden, lest they reach the ears of the enemy. But now the time for secrecy is past; the time for decisive action is come. But to make such decisions we must know the risks and the costs, what can be gained, and what lost; and know how we have come to this pass.

  "The tale of how this council came to be called is a long one, but it should be fully known to all here, whose lives and fortunes lie now in the balance. Many tales go into the making of this tale, and I would have each tell his part in turn. I will begin myself.

  "You all know the history of this war with Sauron: how his forces swept down without warning on my city of Minas Ithil in the year '34. His most foul servants yet hold my city and much of the fair land of Ithilien, and they constantly harass us here in Osgiliath and in raids across the Anduin. His allies and agents elsewhere assail our ports and ships and towns, murdering our people and destroying what they cannot carry away. Sauron will not cease his attacks until Gondor and all the free lands of the West are in his power. We are resolved to oppose him while life endures.

  "The good people of the Eldar, that you call Elves, have joined us in our struggle against Sauron. Gil-galad has long been a staunch friend of our people, and many an Elvish warrior has laid down his life in battle at our sides. You see here among us some of the greatest Lords of that noble race, come to offer us their assistance and support.

  "At first all went well for the Army of the Alliance. United with the Elves, we defeated Sauron's best troops and threw down his Black Gate and took all of Udûn and much of the blasted plains of Gorgoroth. We encircled him in his Dark Tower, the Barad-dûr, but it is immeasurably strong, and our siege has been unavailing. For seven years now we have maintained the siege, at great cost to ourselves. Many fall in battle, others die of thirst and heat and weariness and the poisonous fumes that belch from the ground. Daily our comrades fall around us, and we can do the enemy but little hurt. They laugh at us as we waste ourselves on their adamantine walls. We had driven Sauron back into his last stronghold, but we could do no more, and it could be said that by maintaining the siege we are in fact losing the war, for our forces ever diminish and his do not.

  "Last year my brother Anárion thought to make a last great attempt on the gate of the Barad-dûr. He designed a huge covered structure on wheels that contained both a wooden bridge that could be lowered across the chasm and an immense battering ram to force the gate. He built a model and showed it to the kings. It seemed a bold but likely plan. The permission was given and the construction of the engine was begun. Hundreds of huge trees had to be cut high in the northern valleys of the Ered Lithui and dragged and sledged with untold weary labor across many miles of broken terrain. After many months, the engine was completed and the men trained.

  "On the appointed day, the entire host rose as one and assailed the Black Tower from every side. Anárion led his men with their engine to the gate. The huge bridge was lowered into place successfully and the engine advanced to the mighty gates. But hardly had the order been given to start the ram when Sauron's hordes unleashed a terrible rain of huge stones, glowing red with heat. Within moments the siege engine was struck by an immense boulder and the forward end collapsed. Many men and Elves were trapped within, doomed to certain death beneath the rain of missles. Anárion ran forward with a party of men and endeavored to free those caught beneath the wreckage. As he stood thus, bent low to help free an injured man, a great stone, cast from high in the Tower, smote him on the helmet and burst both helm and skull asunder. Gildor here and I crossed the now teetering bridge and freed some of our people, and I carried back the body of my brother. Hardly had we reached the ground again when the entire structure tilted, groaned, then collapsed into the bottomless depths, carrying with it a hundred or more of our brave soldiers. The attack was called off and the army withdrew to a safe distance.

  "Within a few terrible moments, a king of Gondor and many hundreds of our people had died, our siege engine was destroyed, and with it went all our hopes of ever breaching the Black Tower. We all realized at last that we could besiege the Tower, but we could never take it. Sauron and his servants seemed to command limitless supplies of food and arms and missles. We knew not if the tower was filled with vast stores of supplies or if it was being replenished through some underground or even magical means."

  Isildur paused, looking around at the grim listening faces around him. "Many who have not been to Mordor might cherish the illusion that Sauron is trapped and helpless within his Tower. The truth is rather that he does not bother to sortie against us. He has waited for his victory for thousands of years, he can afford to wait ten or twenty more while we grind ourselves to dust against his walls."

  There were murmurs in the room. Dark looks were exchanged. Many had not realized just how grim the situation in Gorgoroth had become.

  "The Lor
ds of the West took counsel together to determine our course of action. It was a grim and desperate gathering, you may be sure. Many proposals were advanced, discussed, and abandoned. At last Gil-galad disclosed an idea he had been harboring in secret. 'If we cannot get into the Tower,' he said, 'then we must lure Sauron out.'

  "We could not be certain, of course, but we hoped that we could best Sauron's forces in an even fight in the open. But our great fear is his other unconquered fortress, my own city of Minas Ithil, in the mountains of the Ephel Dúath. It is ruled now by the Nine Kings, the Úlairi. Their powers too are very great, for they bear the Nine Rings of Men, wrought long ago by the Noldor, but long since corrupted by Sauron's One Ring and brought under his dominion. The Nine are like blades at our backs. We must always keep a part of our forces stationed on the road to the Ephel Dúath, lest they fall on our backs. We have become actually two armies back to back, and the division greatly weakens each. We dare not throw our full weight against either fortress, for the other cannot be left unguarded behind us.

  "Gil-galad's plan then was this: to raise a third army far from Mordor and the spying eyes of the Enemy; to bring this army secretly against Minas Ithil from the west; to wrest that city from the Úlairi before Sauron knows it is assailed. Then all three armies would join at the Barad-dûr. It was hoped that the loss of Minas Ithil and his most valued servants would so anger Sauron that he would become rash and venture forth against us. Stripped of his allies and his walls, he would be at his weakest and we at our strongest. There, on the plains of Gorgoroth, the doom of the world would be cast in a single mighty test of arms."

  Isildur stopped and looked over the assembled lords. "It must be clear to you all by now that we gathered here are to be that third army. But before we talk of the coming campaign, let us hear how Gil-galad's plan was to be realized. The greatest difficulty, of course, was to somehow locate as many warriors as possible, recruit them in our cause, and bring them all to Osgiliath in secrecy. To that end, three messengers were sent forth from Mordor: Elrond Peredhil to Lothlórien and the Vales of Anduin; Gildor Inglorion to Eriador and Lindon; and I to the lands around the Ered Nimrais and Pelargir.