Free Novel Read

Isildur Page 26


  "But then the war came and the entire eastern sector of the city was wrested from us. Only by fierce and bloody battle did we hold the Bridge. A strong wall was hastily thrown up and the arch became a gate. Never did they take it, though they tried it again and again. Occasionally we would throw open the gate and sortie out against them. After many assaults, they learned to respect and fear that gate, for, open or closed, it meant only death for them.

  "They tried to cross at other points, but we had thrown down all the lesser bridges and our hails of arrows emptied their boats before they could cross. It is almost two years now since last they assailed us in force.That gate has been our shield all these years, and now we propose to throw it open and reach beyond it."

  "A shield which cannot be moved is of little use in a battle, Isildur," said Galadriel. "We Ringbearers are Gondor's shield now, and you its sword. Neither shield nor sword can remain behind walls when the horns of war are calling. Perhaps soon those doors can be pulled down and it will become an arch of triumph for you!"

  Isildur smiled. "You speak fair words of hope, Lady. Spring they from Elvish visions of what will be, or are they but a woman's words of comfort to a warrior?"

  "If there be a difference I know it not. For do we not all have visions of what the future may hold? And words of comfort may strengthen our cause as much as deeds of arms, and bring these visions to pass. My visions are not of what will be, but of what can be. Sauron too has his dream of what can be. It is our part to determine which vision shall prevail."

  Isildur lowered his voice so that only she could hear. "Lady, if you can see somewhat of the future, tell me this: Can Sauron be defeated? Or do we ride to certain death, as I sometimes fear in this darkest hour of the night?"

  A look of surprise crossed Galadriel's lovely face framed in its cowl. "Of course it is possible to defeat him. My vision sees many possible futures, and in some he is indeed thrown down. But I am not shown how that can be accomplished. Is your view of the future so short that you cannot see even the possibility of victory?"

  "My Lady, we Men share not your Elvish senses. The future is wholly dark to us."

  "And do you then suspect our task is hopeless?"

  "I would never say it before any of my people, Lady, but when I think of his hideous might and power, his ruthless cruelty; truly, my heart misgives me."

  "You Atani never cease to surprise me," she said. "We Quendi know, perhaps better than you, the terrible danger into which we ride and the desperate chance we take by doing so. But always we know that victory is possible; that the future good is never completely closed to us. But you Men, knowing nothing of all that, gird yourselves in nothing but baseless hope and ride into the glimmerless dark. Your path is never lighted, save behind you, where all futures have collapsed into one immutable past. We ride side by side against the same foes, and yet who shall say who has the greater courage?"

  Isildur had no answer, but only raised his eyes to the dark brooding peaks of Mordor, now silhouetted against a glowing rose sky. What lay there now, waiting for them? He wondered what Elvish eyes saw in those distant crags.

  He was called from his revery by the hurried arrival of Elendur.

  "All is ready, father," he panted. "The streets are filled with mounted men for many blocks to the north and west and south. All await your word."

  "Have you chosen your companions well?"

  "Aye. Most are companions of my youth in Minas Ithil. A few are Osgiliath men I fought beside when the enemy attacked us here at the Arannon. And one is a bold shepherd fellow from Calembel, a giant of a man. He speaks little, but he came to me when he heard of our purpose and volunteered for our party. He would not be denied."

  Isildur laughed. "I know the man, I believe. He threatened not to let my column pass until he had cleared us with Ingold. He is as strong as an ox and seems to know not fear. I am glad he is with you."

  He looked over his shoulder at Mindolluin looming behind the city. Already the sun was gilding its highest peaks. "When the sun sends her rays upon the Tower of the Stone we shall ride," he said. "Just before we reach the Arannon, have the gate wardens throw open the doors. May we never have need to close them again.

  "We will make no attempt to capture the eastern sectors of the city. Their strongest defenses will be gathered at the east end of the Bridge. If we can break through there, we shall ride straight through the city and on up the road to Minas Ithil. As the infantry follows, they should spread across the city and sweep it clean of orcs. The militia of Osgiliath will retake the walls of the city and hold them against our return."

  The army stood silent, watching the growing dawn. The light crept down Mindolluin's slopes. No sound could be heard but the warbling of birds awakening in the eaves of the buildings.

  "Since we have heard no sounds of battle," said Elendur, "we can hope that Amroth and his raiding party have not yet been discovered. I pray they have succeeded and are now somewhere over there, waiting for us."

  Elrond rode over to them. "Lo," he said. "The sun strikes Minas Anor." They looked, and there, thrust up against a purple fold of Mindolluin's vast bulk, the Tower of the Sun gleamed like a white flame in the sun.

  "May the sun shine as brightly upon Minas Ithil," said Celeborn. "For orcs like not the light. It hurts their eyes and makes them fearful. And it will hearten the men against the Shadow."

  They waited a few moments more, the suspense and anticipation growing unbearable. At last a golden beam of sun broke through a pass high in the Ephel Dúath and struck the white banner fluttering bravely from the top of the Tower of Stone.

  "The sun shines upon Gondor," said Isildur. "It is time at last." He looked once at Minas Anor and the fair towers of Osgiliath, at the thousands of eager faces watching him. Then, with neither word nor sign, he wheeled Fleetfoot around and spurred him forward. For a moment he was the only moving object in the entire city. He galloped down the center of the empty street, the horse's hooves clattering loudly on the paving stones. Then Ohtar and Elendur and the royal guards of their house sprang forward and thundered behind him, followed by the Elf-lords and Barathor and the other great knights of the land. Ohtar pulled the bindings from the standard he bore and Isildur's banner broke free and rippled in the speed of his passage. Beside him Elrond and Gildor did the same, and all marvelled to see the Star of Gil-galad, the White Tree of Gondor, and the Golden Tree of Lothlórien riding together into the East.

  Behind them, the square rapidly emptied as the river of mounted knights rushed away. Then street after street, alley after alley, poured its thousands of riders into the flood, swelling it to a great river, and it seemed that the column would never come to an end. The thunder of hooves was drowned in a roar of many voices shouting in hoarse and wild joy.

  Isildur bore down on the gates of the Arannon, oblivious to the growing roar behind him. As the gates swung open he could see high before him the lofty mountains of his Ithilien. Then he was pounding across the Great Bridge, the empty houses and shops flashing past on either side. There before him was a wooden barricade and a dozen astonished orcs staring wide-eyed. Above the noise he could hear the raucous calling of a brass trumpet ahead, suddenly cut short, and orcs started pouring out of the buildings just beyond the barricade. He did not slacken his pace.

  "For Gondor!" he shouted, sweeping out his sword. The host at his back took up the cry. "For Gondor! Gondor and the West!"

  * * *

  When the first shouts rang out, Galdor and Amroth leaped to the window. Orcs were streaming out of the guard tower, but they suddenly stopped, gaping in awe across the Bridge. Glancing there, the Elves saw that the massive gates were swinging slowly open. Through them rode a single rider dressed all in white with a great cape streaming behind him, his sword sweeping in shining circles above his head.

  "Isildur comes," cried Amroth. A second later a phalanx of fierce horsemen, bellowing like madmen, burst from the gate, followed by the lords and standards of many lands, all ridi
ng as hard as they could straight for the barricade. Behind them came a thundering column of armored knights, row upon row.

  The orcs dashed to the barricade. One raised a horn to his lips and started a blast of warning, but Galdor quickly sent a shaft through his body before he could draw a second breath. From the neighboring houses came a deadly rain of arrows that felled all but a few of the orcs at the barricade. The others fell back and ran shouting up the street, away from the River. Most were cut down by archers from the windows and rooftops.

  Looking back to the Bridge, Galdor saw a second group of figures dash out of a house and run to the barricade. He drew his bow again, but then saw that these were not orcs but Men. Turning instead to shoot an orc trying to climb into the window of a house across the street, he turned back to see the men struggling to move the barricade. In moments they were joined by a half dozen Elves, and together they swung the heavy wooden structure back and to the side. Tipping it over the parapet, they cheered as it crashed into the River below with an immense splash.

  They spun around just in time to see Isildur go pounding past, his speed unchecked. He looked neither to left nor right, but crossed the square and disappeared up the main road, still all alone. Then the square was suddenly filled with thousands of armed men and Elves, cheering wildly. Galdor and his companions ran down to join them, but Amroth remained in the tower.

  Turgon's party were waiting beside the stairs when the trumpet sounded. Soon orcs, still stupid with sleep and fumbling with their harness, came pouring down the stairs. The men fell on them with merciless fury and many were slain, but it was some moments before the orcs realized the house was taken and they continued to run into the slaughter at the bottom of the stairs. When they heard the shouting and the pounding of hooves outside, they became wild with fear and threw themselves again at the grim-faced men. One man fell when an orc crept up on him from the floor below, but he was avenged before he struck the floor. At last the terrible work was done and all the orcs lay slain, their blood spreading across the marble tiles.

  Leading his men to the street, Turgon found that although the square and main street thundered to the passage of the host of Gondor, the side streets were now teeming with terrified orcs. The raiders chased them from their holes and drove them yammering down the streets. Advancing a few blocks fairly quickly, they soon came against stronger resistance. After a short but fierce battle against a strong band of determined orcs in a large intersection, they could hear the sounds of another battle just around the corner.

  Rushing on, they rounded the corner and found four of the men they had left guarding the barracks hard pressed by a much larger number of orcs that surrounded them. All about them lay the bodies of men and orcs. As Turgon's men ran forward, one of the four was cut down by a savage swipe of a jagged sword.

  Howling with anger, they fell on the orcs with a cold fury, but two more men lay dead before the battle was won. They stood panting and looking at the carnage around them. One of the defenders wiped the blood from his eyes and looked at Turgon.

  "Our thanks, my lord," he gasped. "Six of us kept forty of the foe trapped in that cellar until Isildur's van passed by. Finally they burst through the door. We slew many, but at last they killed one of ours and broke out. Those you slew were the last."

  "Our thanks to you, yeomen," said Turgon. "Your valor has spared the lives of many of our comrades. But our work is far from done. Let us move from house to house, clearing each of the vermin that infest it, until no living orc remains within the city. By nightfall this evening Osgiliath will be one city again."

  Just then the sounds of renewed battle reached them from the direction of the square. Hurrying there, they found that a large company of orcs from the northern part of the city had driven into the square from the north, endeavoring to cut off the infantry, now pouring across the bridge, from the cavalry, now racing out of the city.

  A great battle filled the square, along with clouds of dust and the commotion of shouts of anger, cries of pain, and the clashing of metal on metal. These orcs were larger, better trained, and better armed. They wore steel armor over their thick scaly hides. They drove the men back by their sheer ferocity, slashing this way and that with their heavy crooked swords. Their leader, a huge greenish orc with a flat snakelike head, thrust viciously at his adversaries and then leaped atop their corpses to better wield his bloody trident. Howling in triumph, he thrust again and again at the press of men around him, taking a life with nearly every stroke. Several times arrows struck him, but always they bounced off his heavy armor. He raised his head and roared, striking terror in all who heard him.

  Suddenly his roar changed to a scream of pain and outrage, and he stared down in horror at the feathers of a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Then a dozen hands grasped him and pulled him down among the flashing blades. Looking up, Galdor saw Amroth at the high tower window, smiling grimly and already rewinding the orcish crossbow. Again and again it twanged, dealing swift death to the orcs. Finally, leaderless, frightened, and confused, they broke and fled wailing down the street, closely pursued by the men of Gondor.

  Gradually the tumult died away and the fighting moved away into other parts of the city. Amroth rested then and looked away to the east. Far away, a long dark line was climbing steadily toward the pine-clad Mountains of Shadow.

  * * *

  Isildur held Fleetfoot to a steady canter now, letting him rest from the long furious run. The road was smooth, wide, and straight, and the cavalry had formed up behind him in orderly ranks. Beside him rode Cirdan, Celeborn, and Galadriel, and in the rank just behind were Ohtar, Gildor, and Elrond with the banners. They had surprised several bands of orcs on the road but they had fled in terror at the first sight of the grim-faced warriors. The sun rose high before them.

  The road approached a ring of huge pine trees where it crossed the road running up from Harad to the Morannon. As expected, the Crossroads was defended by a large garrison of orcs. They were already forming up in a wide band across the road. Charging upon them at full speed, the van quickly broke through their line, then wheeled to surround them. There followed a short but fierce skirmish, but the orcs were greatly outnumbered and were soon overwhelmed. The column formed up again and moved on.

  As they rode through the line of trees and into the Crossroads, the Elves saw there a large statue of Isildur, seated on a throne and staring sternly off into the west toward Osgiliath. The statue had been set up as a warning and notice to all who passed that this was the fief of Isildur. The king was back in his homeland again. He did not glance aside at his likeness, but rode on with his eyes fixed on the heights above.

  Once past the Crossroads there were no more orcs to be seen and the host rode on unhindered through a sparse forest of pines and firs. Ohtar now rode at Isildur's side. He sniffed the air appreciatively.

  "It smells like home, Sire," he said. "This part of the land always reminded me of the Emyn Arnen. I'm glad to see it unchanged." Isildur nodded.

  "I used to hunt in these woods, years ago," he said. "I remember one trip, with Anárion and father, we hunted a large and noble stag right into that grove at the Crossroads. We camped there. It was early on, and Osgiliath was still under construction. After the hunt we three stood there and looked down on the city — it was all one-story buildings and dirt roads in those days. It was a good moment, seeing our works going up like that.

  "Father looked across at the White Mountains in the distance and said 'There should be fortresses in those mountains and these, to guard our new capital. A tower over yonder on that great blue peak could view the whole valley of the Anduin from the Nindalf halfway to Pelargir. Another on this side could defend all these fair lands from north, south, or east.'

  "Anárion spoke up at once. 'I would live on that mountain, Father,' he said. 'I climbed it once and it is the fairest prospect in all the land.'

  "'For my part,' said I, 'these tree-shaded slopes are more to my liking. They are better wat
ered and I am fond of the music of a mountain stream. Let Anárion have the blue mountain. I would build my fortress here.'

  "Elendil laughed, saying, 'Are you dividing up my kingdom already? We have worked hard to unite the many tribes of these valleys. Would you now make two kingdoms of Gondor?'

  "'Nay, Father,' said Anárion with a smile. 'But would not your two fortresses be best ruled by your two sons? Let us guide the building of them and you shall decide which is the most beautiful and strong. And you will always know that friendly eyes are watching over Osgiliath from above.'

  "'Osgiliath is scarcely walled and already you talk of building new fortresses. But the symmetry pleases me. Let is be thus.' He looked to both sites, then smiled. 'And look, the very orbs of the heavens do ordain it. There, where the sun begins to blush on the high snowfields of the White Mountains, let Minas Anor, the Tower of the Setting Sun, rise under Anárion's hand. And up there, where now the moon climbs over the high passes of the Mountains of Shadow, I would have you, Isildur, build Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Rising Moon. So will your names, given so long ago in Númenor, be fulfilled and Gondor will be the more secure.'

  "And so it was done, though I chose the next valley to the south for my city, for there is both a clear stream there and also an ancient path that crossed the mountains into Mordor. We widened the trail and built a smooth road over the pass." His nostalgic smile faded. "Little did I think when I built that road that it would one day carry enemies to our door and sorrow to our land. But soon we will drive them back up that road and out of Gondor forever."

  Now they were approaching Minas Ithil and still there was no sign of an alarm. Isildur reined in and waited for the Elf-lords and the other captains to join him.

  "In another few hundred yards this wood will end," he said. "When we come out of the trees we will come to a bridge over the stream and behold the city above us. I would have us in full gallop before we are seen from the walls. But that means we won't know what forces we will find there. If the foe is fore-warned, they may be arrayed before the city. Everyone must be prepared for immediate battle. Let the riders form up in close order with a lancer on the ends of each rank. If we are hard-pressed, each division will form a ring with the lancers on the outside. My men of Ithilien shall be in the first division, for they know the land.