Isildur Page 30
Gil-galad crossed the tent and took a long spear with an ebony handle from a rack. Its head was in the shape of a leaf of the Golden Tree, with edges so razor sharp they shone blue in the light.
"And then he must reckon with this," he said grimly, running his hands over the shaft. "Aeglos was made to taste Sauron's blood, and it shall yet do so, I swear it. Well does he know this weapon and fear it, for it is doomed to be Sauron's Bane."
Elendil patted the hilt of the great sword at his side. "And if Snowpoint does not slay him, my Narsil will, for it too is charmed to bring him down."
Gil-galad looked to the open tent flap. "Is it morning yet, Elendil? It is still dark and grey without, and yet surely the sun must be up by now."
"She is up, Sire, but gives little light through the murk. The haze and fumes are much thicker than usual this morning, and a noxious bitter dust is sifting down from the low clouds. Orodruin is unquiet."
"And so too is its lord, I wager," replied Gil-galad, "for I notice that the volcano oft reflects Sauron's mood. It has many times trembled and smoked just before a major attack by his forces. He is linked to the subterranean powers of the earth ever since he forged the One in the Sammath Naur within the mountain itself. Perhaps he even controls Orodruin's eruptions, though how I cannot guess."
"Then perhaps this unrest indicates that he even now senses a disturbance in the west, a changing, a moving, in the borders of his realm."
"Perhaps. If so, let him fret a while. It will make him more rash in the end. I would have him come out in fear and anxiety, his troops all disordered and confused. I assume ours all stand at the highest readiness?"
"Aye. Every one is awake and watchful. The barricades and forces at the road to the west have been quadrupled."
"Good. Well, if the day is as fine as you say, Elendil, we should be out enjoying it. And we should be seen from the walls of the Dark Tower, so he knows we are still here. Let us ride to the road."
The two kings called for their housecarls and standard bearers, and soon were riding down the slope to the road below. Men and Elves in full armor were pacing slowly back and forth as they had every day for years. The perimeter of the siege had been established long ago by the catapults of the Barad-dûr, for it lay at the bottom of a barren slope strewn with the massive blocks of stone hurled from the walls.
They spoke briefly with the Elvish captain of this section of the perimeter, then turned south and rode slowly along the long line of grim-faced warriors: Elves and Men and here and there a few dwarves. The eyes of all were cold and weary, for they had lived with the threat of imminent death for many years. A siege is a terrible thing to endure on either side of the walls, for the tension and fear of battle are prolonged not for hours, but for years. It is one thing to ride into a battle knowing you may be killed before the day is out, quite another to face it day after day. It is the fear and uncertainty of war, the privations and discomfort of a military campaign, but with no glory, no homecoming, and no end in sight. It was difficult for everyone, but especially the Men. Many of the younger Men had spent a large portion of their lives here on this bleak plain, far from their wives and sweethearts and families. They felt their lives passing them by, their youth wasted in this idle watching and waiting for the Gate of Adamant to open. They stared at those immense doors day after day, hoping to see them creak open, and also dreading it.
The leaders of the host had always to contend with both the boredom and the frustrated eagerness to fight and have done with the waiting. There was much grumbling and complaining and all were thoroughly sick of the plains of Gorgoroth and the sight of the Dark Tower. But they all knew that there could be no going home until the issue was decided. At great cost had they driven Sauron into his fortress; they must not let him escape now.
Elendil and Gil-galad rode along the perimeter, offering occasional words of encouragement as they passed each group of warriors. They topped a low rise and looked out over a wide plain dotted with row after row of brightly colored tents, though now much stained and grimed by the volcanic ash like black flour that constantly sifted down from the clouds. Well-beaten paths ran among the rows of tents, and many figures, horses, and wagons moved about its dusty streets. Here was the main body of the Host of the Alliance, scores of thousands of warriors of every race, from nearly every land of the West.
Through the midst of the huge camp ran a broad and well-paved road with a low wall on either side to hold back the drifting ash that threatened to bury it. The Road of Sauron ran straight and level, slicing through hills of slag and broken rock and leaping over black chasms on massive arches of stone. It disappeared in the vapors and smokes of Orodruin, away to the west. As it drew near the bridge to the Barad-dûr, the Road passed between two rows of huge carven images of misshapen and bestial forms, though whether they represented actual creatures of Sauron's devise or were only figments of some mad nightmare, none could guess. The camp lay close to these beasts but not among them, for all sensed something unnatural and evil about them. Indeed, many of those closest to camp had been smashed or the faces chiseled away, for few could bear those stone eyes upon them for long.
Where the Road entered the Field of the Beasts, four stout barricades of heavy timbers and broken stones had been constructed across it and stretched far away to either side. Thousands of the strongest warriors were stationed at these barricades. Some stood or walked on the fortifications themselves, others marched in the lanes between. Everywhere spear points and lances gleamed red in the murky morning light, as if already running with blood. Ever they looked beyond the barricades, to the Iron Bridge and the towering Gate of Adamant. If Sauron did come forth, this is the way he would come, and these warriors would be the first to take the brunt of his attack.
The Tower itself stood silent. No guards paced the battlements, no archers could be seen at the occasional high windows. During an assault on the Tower, missles of all sorts would descend from those heights, but seldom would any enemy be seen. Between attacks, the Tower seemed as lifeless as a tombstone. None of them knew what forces Sauron had at his command, nor where they obtained their food and supplies. If they were suffering under the siege, there was no sign of it. As for Sauron himself, he had not been seen by Elf nor Man since the night he had slipped away from Celebrimbor's workshops in Eregion that is no more.
The kings' company rode to a large tent near the outermost barricade. Esquires took their horses and the lords went in to break their fast. It was the beginning of another day, just like hundreds before — nothing to do but wait and watch.
* * *
The morning dragged on, the heat if not the light increasing steadily. The company in the mess tent speculated on the doings of their colleagues in the west. Were Isildur and the Elf-Lords victorious and even now riding hard toward them; or would the next riders to appear be black, bearing the Three triumphantly to their master? Hopeful guesses and terrifying possibilities were bandied back and forth, to no resolution. Tiring of the talk, Elendil went out and called again for his horse. He rode along the barricade, speaking with many of the commanders, Men he had known and fought beside for many years. Some indeed had sailed from Númenor with him in the terrible storm that destroyed their island home.
Then he turned south again and continued along the perimeter. He was fearful that if Sauron did come out he would see the strong force at the barricades and veer aside, probing for a weak spot along the perimeter. It was his job to see that there were none. All along the line Men and Elves called to him or waved or saluted if too far away to speak to him. His appearance always seemed to buoy them and give them strength and hope. He wondered at the source of the strength, for they seemed to draw more from him than he could possibly offer them, more even than he felt himself. But their eager loyal faces cheered him as he rode past, and his spirit too was lifted.
He rode but a few miles and could see ahead the jagged spur of the Ered Lithui where it tumbled into the chasm that surrounded the Barad-dûr, ma
rking the end of the Allies' perimeter. Bitter experience had taught that the Mountains of Ash were unscalable by any means, even by the light-footed Elves. Elendil rode to the very edge of the abyss and peered down into blackness, for no bottom had ever been seen in that huge pit. He talked briefly with the captain of the southernmost company, telling him to be ready to move his men north if Sauron attacked the center of the line. He said farewell, then turned back toward the Road.
As his horse was picking his way down a steep slope of cinders, the ground shuddered violently beneath his feet and he went down on his knees with a cry of pain. Elendil leaped free and rolled down the slope. He was not injured, but before he could rise the air was rent by a deafening thunder of sound, striking him flat with its violence. All around men clapped their hands to their ears, striving in vain to keep out the blast. The ground heaved again. The plain buckled, and several crags toppled and slid with a roar into the abyss, some taking men with them. Steam and flames belched forth from a thousand cracks, scalding warriors and horses alike and setting whole sections of the camp aflame. Horses screamed in madness and broke free to run wildly through the crowded camps, adding to the confusion. To the west the entire sky turned to roiling black smoke laced with blood red flames, and a hail of fiery ash and glowing cinders rained down on the stunned host. Everywhere was tumult and destruction.
Elendil struggled shakily to his feet and gazed about him. All men turned to the west to watch in awe as Orodruin writhed and changed before their eyes. Lava gushed from a dozen vents at once. Elendil looked on the torment of the mountain and saw the mouth of the Sammath Naur, the great cave where Sauron had forged the One. It was glowing now with white heat, and he knew he was seeing the naked Flame of Udûn, created on the First Day by Melkor the Morgoth, source of all evil. What could he — what could anyone do against forces like this?
But even as he thought this and his heart shrank within him, there came a new sound — a shrieking and braying of many trumpets together, rising above even the groaning of the tortured earth. Now there was no time for fear; no time for doubt. Sauron was coming forth.
He found his horse standing shivering a few yards away, eyes wide with fear. He stroked its head a moment to calm it, then leaped to the saddle and rode hard back toward the Road. He passed groups of warriors standing dazed and confused.
"To the barricades!" he shouted. "He comes!" But his words were all but drowned out by fresh eruptions from the mountain. Fearing what he would find, he spurred his horse on to the top of the last ridge, beyond which lay the camp and the Road. Reaching the summit, he stopped in amazement.
The orderly camp he had ridden through only moments before was in shambles. Many of the tents were in flames as the glowing cinders continued to pour from the sky. Huge cracks had opened up where before was solid land, swallowing up whole sections of the camp. Groups of warriors either milled about aimlessly or dashed headlong through the press, on what errands he could not guess, for no orders could be heard in that noise. Then came an even greater tumult from the north, near the Road. A confused rabble was stumbling back south into the camp, throwing into disarray the few companies still under command.
Elendil swung his horse to the right, picking through to the first barricade, now tumbled into heaps. There the throng was less and he was able to make his way at better speed. Finally he reached the Road and his worst fears were realized. The siege had been broken. Sauron was gone.
The barricades were all scattered and thrown aside like a child's blocks amidst the sprawled and burned bodies of the fallen. Here and there a few crawled or moved weakly, but their eyes were blank and staring, their minds blasted by what they had seen. Some gibbered or howled, others shouted meaningless orders.
Elendil moved among them, scanning each face, each banner trampled and forgotten in the dust, seeking always the standard of Gil-galad, but in vain. He rode to the mess tent where he had left the others and found it thrown down and charred, as if blasted by a scorching wind. A group of figures were creeping from the wreckage, then turning to help others. Elendil dismounted and went to help.
"Gil-galad!" he called to them. "Have you seen Gil-galad?"
"He was up there on the hill," said an Elf.
Elendil picked his way among smoking wreckage to the top of a small hill where a dozen Elves stood laboring, pulling others from a collapsed tent. Already a row of bodies lay there. A few were struggling to rise, more only groaned feebly or writhed in pain, but most lay still. When Elendil reached them he saw to his relief that Gil-galad was among them, though his robes were torn and his face blackened and streaked.
"Sire," he cried, "are you hurt?"
Gil-galad turned and saw Elendil coming toward him.
"So you have survived as well. That is the only good news we have had. Did you see him?"
"Nay, Sire, I saw only the Flame of Udûn. I was well down on the southern perimeter. Would I had been here at your side!"
"It would have made no difference," answered Gil-galad with weariness and despair lining his face. "He was too great for us, too great by far. We had no idea how powerful he really was."
"Did you see him?"
"Not his form, but only a great darkness, and we felt the fear that goes before him."
"How did he come upon you?"
"The Mountain burst asunder and all turned and looked to the west. Then came the sound of thousands of trumpets and we turned, and lo, the Doors stood open. Then a great host poured forth onto the bridge, orcs and trolls and goblins and other creatures I have no name for. Just as they reached the land, the barricades suddenly burst asunder with a terrible roar. How he did it I do not know, but in a moment the barricades and the men on them were flying through the air. Nearly four hundred warriors, Man and Elf, destroyed at one blow, swept aside as you might sweep a table clear.
"Then their van was upon us, and with them came a great fear. All light and hope seemed to vanish from the world, and many quailed before the onslaught. It must have been some weapon of Sauron's, for in truth I believe their numbers were less than ours. But they did not stop to fight. They thundered past the shattered barricades, right through our camp, and on down the west road, not even pausing to slay our warriors, some of them just standing by the side of the road staring. I felt him coming nearer — how I cannot say, but the center of the evil approached. I advanced with Aeglos before me, thinking to make a stand, but then came a blast of terrible heat and all faded from me. I came to myself but a moment ago."
"We found the king under this tent," said one of the Elves, looking up from his work. "He moved not at first and we feared for him. But he roused at last. It is more than can be said for many here."
"But there was no real battle," continued Gil-galad. "Only that strange blast, then they were past and away. Where has he gone? Did you see?"
"I know not, Sire," replied Elendil. "I have seen only our own people, and many of them are dead or mad. Of Sauron and his creatures there is no sign. They can only have gone west."
"Aye. And he can be bent on only one errand. He seeks the Three."
"Curse him!" cried Elendil. "He rides against Isildur and the others, and we were charged to contain him here. They will be crushed between Sauron and his Úlairi. Oh, alas, alas. We have failed."
Then one of the Elves came up to Gil-galad and handed him the long spear Aeglos. "This at least is unbroken, Sire," he said. Gil-galad took the spear and stood leaning upon it, gazing about at the ruin as far as he could see. But then he seemed to draw strength from the familiar feel of the great spear. He drew himself upright.
"Aye," he said. "My Aeglos is yet whole, and still capable of piercing Sauron's body. It is still capable of fighting." He touched the sword at Elendil's side. "And so is Narsil, and so indeed are we, my friend."
"Aye," said some of those standing nearby, slowly regaining their wits and their courage after the numbing blast. "Many have died, but most yet live. Away from the road, our host is untouched."
Then Elendil cried out in a loud voice. "We must! While yet we have life and strength to fight, we must! For Sauron is once more loose upon the world. He flies west to Minas Ithil, where our colleagues strive against his minions, unaware of the doom approaching from the plains. They were the bait in this trap, and Sauron has taken it. Our task was to destroy him as he came forth. In that we have failed, and now he races to swallow the lure. If we falter now, our friends will be destroyed and Sauron will rule the world. We must ride, ride like the wind!"
"Yes!" shouted some. "That's right! He's right!" said others. "To the west!"
The kings called messengers to them and sent them riding along the perimeter. There was no longer any point in maintaining the siege. Every warrior capable of riding was to join them at the Road.
In less than an hour the riders were assembling. Over a thousand had died or were still missing, and nearly as many were to remain to care for the wounded and bury the dead. But all others, still over eighty thousand strong, were ready. The columns of horsemen dwindled into the distance on either hand.
Gil-galad signalled for quiet, then rose in his stirrups. "You have seen the strength of the enemy," he roared. "But all his will now is bent on reaching Minas Ithil, and the rear of his host may be unprotected. At the least they shall not surprise us again. Most of his host is on foot. If we ride hard, we should overtake them near Orodruin.
"All these years we have waited for Sauron to come out so we can fight him in the open, without the chasm and walls of Barad-dûr to protect him. At last we have that chance. The waiting is at an end. Now we have only one task. We must pursue Sauron and catch him and bring him to bay. Then everything depends on one final battle. Ride with me now down Sauron's Road, and know that death lies at the end of it, either ours, or Sauron's!"