Isildur Page 32

  "My people built this road many years ago," said Isildur, "but it follows an even older path that may indeed have been made by the goats. They abounded here of old, but I have seen neither track nor spoor of them today. No doubt the orcs killed them as well."

  "Perhaps they merely removed to another place," suggested Cirdan. "Oftimes wild things can sense evil in a place and shirk it thenceforth."

  "If so," replied Elrond, "they must have left the Ephel Dúath completely. These mountains reek of evil and a watching malice."

  "Aye, 'tis true," said Isildur. "It has a most unwholesome air to it. Yet it was not always so. When first I saw this canyon it was green and hung with ferns. Pines and firs leaned from the cliffs, and the light of the Sirlos danced on the mossy walls."

  "I remember," said Elendur. "Aratan and I often rode up here. Once we brought Ciryon, when he was old enough to sit a horse. We climbed on the rocks and threw stones into the stream. I always loved the clean smell of the place and the merry sound of the falls. Now even the voice of Sirlos sounds sad and lonely."

  They looked around sadly at the barren walls, the occasional leaning tree, dead and white and broken. No sign of green could be seen anywhere.

  "I know not what has made the change," Elendur went on. "Surely the orcs did not scale every precipice and cut or kill the trees, pull out the ferns? To what end?"

  "Some of the trees they cut for firewood for their furnaces and factories, no doubt," said Gildor. "Others they wantonly destroy — they seem to take some sort of perverse pleasure in destroying what they cannot use. And wherever they live and build, they poison the land around them. Growing things wither and die; animals sicken or wander away."

  The leaders had reached the top of the cliff now and stood catching their breaths, watching the long, long line of soldiers winding up behind them like ants climbing a rock wall.

  "Do you think the land will ever recover?" asked Elendur sadly, snapping off a dead branch from the snag of a fir tree beside the path.

  "A wound may heal," replied Cirdan, "and a warrior ride again as proud as before, but he bears the mark of it forever. If we can force Sauron to loose his grip on this land then life will eventually return, given enough time. But that which is once touched by Sauron can never be wholly clean again. Eregion was once one of the fairest of lands, and it is barren and deserted still. Mordor will remain a poisoned desert as long as the world lasts."

  "Is all of Ithilien despoiled forever then?" asked Elendur with a knot of despair around his heart. Ithilien was the land of his birth and he loved it dearly.

  "The extent of the taint will depend on how long he ruled the land and how extensively he despoiled it. He has not long occupied Ithilien, nor has he built great factories and forges here as in Gorgoroth. There is hope yet that the land will recover, though I fear a shadow will always lie on this valley and the city where the Ringwraiths ruled."

  "Where they still rule," growled Isildur. "I swear, when we have dealt with Sauron I will return here and destroy every one of them. I will expunge their evil, root and branch, and cleanse this land of their poisons. Ithilien will be a garden again, and the people will return to their homes and farms. This I swear."

  Cirdan looked at him sadly but said no more. They mounted and continued on their way, the road now winding through a rolling stony land, ever up toward the jagged ridge line high above them. Elendur rode up beside Cirdan and Elrond.

  "Shipmaster," he said. "You mentioned the land of Eregion, but I do not know where it lies. Was it one of the Drowned Lands, like Beleriand?"

  "No," replied Cirdan. "Beleriand and Nantasarion were drowned in the last struggles of Morgoth at the end of the Elder Days. Eregion was founded much later, though many of its people had come from Beleriand. Celebrimbor was its lord, and it lay west of the Hithaiglin, which Men call the Misty Mountains. It is now called Hollin by Men, I believe."

  "I know Hollin," said Elendur. "I rode there with grandfather once. A grey and empty land, I thought it."

  "Aye, so it is," said Elrond. "But once it was a place of great beauty and good works, for Celebrimbor was a master builder and smith. Green were its fields and bright its cities. Brightest of all was Ost-in-Edhil, where dwelt the craft-Elves known as the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the Jewel-Smiths. Never were there greater foundries and workshops than those of the Jewel-Smiths. Led by Celebrimbor, they learned to make jewels such as never grew in the earth. They developed new alloys of metals that had marvelous new properties. Some even glowed in the dark by their own light, it was said. With these new materials, the Jewel-Smiths made jewelry and ornaments and tools and weapons, unequalled anywhere before or since. And then they forged the rings of power, great and small. Few now honor them for the deed, for Sauron learned the art from them and so began the Great War."

  "But Celebrimbor did many other great works," added Cirdan. "The Floating Gardens at Ost-in-Edhil enchanted all who beheld them. And the Crimson Palace, and the Ice Caves, his hand made them, though few remember it today."

  "Eregion was wide and green," said Elrond, "and the Elves tilled their fields and traded their produce with their friends the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm."

  "The Elves and Dwarves were friends?" asked Elendur in surprise. "Forgive me, but I have never heard of any great love between your races."

  "It is true, sad to say," replied Elrond. "We have little contact now, nor indeed much desire for it these days. The Khazad are a proud people — some might say stiff-necked — and they love gold and forged things above all else, even their former friends. They cannot be blamed for it. They were made ahead of their time by Aulë the smith of the Valar, and they alone of all the Children are not of the making of Ilúvatar the Father. Still, that is no fault of theirs, and many great deeds have they done in the struggle against evil. As you see, a handful have joined our host. A few companies are even with the kings in Gorgoroth, and they have fought long and hard in our common cause."

  "In Eregion of old," added Cirdan, "the Little People could often be seen walking and laughing with Elves. But all that is gone now. Sauron's hordes swept across Eregion, destroying all before them. They pulled down the lovely towers and gardens of Ost-in-Edhil and slew its people. Many Dwarves too were slain, and the gates of Khazad-dûm were closed and have never yet been opened to our people. Celebrimbor was slain and his Jewel-Smiths were driven in fear from Eregion."

  Elrond shook his head sadly. "It was a dark time. Many thought the realm of peace was doomed in Middle-earth. Gil-galad sent me with an army from Lindon to defend Eregion. Fierce were the battles with Sauron's hordes."

  Elendur looked at Elrond in wonder. "You fought Sauron before?" he asked. "What was the end of it?"

  Elrond shrugged sadly. "This is the end of it," he replied. "The battle tomorrow should determine who will rule in the end."

  "What I meant was: What happened in that earlier war?" asked Elendur.

  Elrond smiled. "You Men cut time into too many small slices," he said. "It is still the same war. It was the same war when we Noldor first returned to the Mortal Shore to do battle with Morgoth the Enemy. It was the same war when we fought in the plains of Eregion. This present conflict is the same war. And it may even be that tomorrow's struggle will be but another battle, and that in future ages Men and Elves will continue to serve in the same war."

  "But what happened in Eregion?" Elendur persisted.

  "We arrived too late to save Eregion. Ost-in-Edhil's last defenses were overrun and we found only scattered bands of the people hiding in caves and hidden valleys. We strove against Sauron, but he was too strong for us and we fell back to the north. I led one band, the remnant of my best division. We found a deep-cleft valley and built a refuge there. Others joined us later."

  "Was that valley Imladris, where my mother and brother now wait?"

  "Even so. Men often call it Rivendell. We took refuge there, and soon Sauron came to rule all of Eriador and threatened even fair Lindon, last and greatest of the lands of th
e Eldar in Middle-earth. But his victories were short-lived, for aid unlooked-for came to us out of the western seas. Your own ancestor Tar-Minastir, King of Númenor, came with a great fleet of many hundreds of ships to the Havens at Mithlond. Together we drove Sauron's armies out of the west lands, back across the Misty Mountains and the Great River Anduin. But Eregion was destroyed and Celebrimbor went through the Curtain before his time, and his wonderful skills were lost to us forever."

  "Was Eregion never settled again?" asked Elendur, thinking always of the fate of Ithilien.

  "A few Elves went back, but they soon returned to Imladris. The land was changed, they said. There was a sadness and a sense of loss in all the land. Where once cool forests grew, now only dead grasses whispered and muttered in the dry winds from the east. The flowers and gardens were gone, the grass withered and brown. Even the water does not taste right, for the sweet springs are now bitter and burn the tongue. It is not a foul place, a place of evil, but it is a spoiled land. It is not truly ugly, but it has none of its old beauty. To those who knew it of old, it is a place of great sadness and infinite regret."

  "Would that Ithilien does not become so," said Elendur. "It was once the fairest in all of Gondor."

  "It shall be again," swore Isildur with a cold look in his eye. "I did not build Minas Ithil to be a haunt of ghouls and undead things, nor its houses the warrens of orcs. The city has been befouled, the glens of Ithilien poisoned, and the shining white walls of Osgiliath blackened. But we shall renew them. We were driven from our homes twice by Sauron — once from Númenor and once from Minas Ithil — but we shall not be again."

  Cirdan shook his head, his grey hair swaying. "I wish you well, Isildur, but it takes great power of good to cleanse a place where once the Morgul spells were spoken. Ithilien perhaps, but I fear for Minas Ithil. Perhaps it would be best to pull it down and begin anew in some other valley."

  "No!" hissed Isildur. "No. Minas Ithil is my city and my home. If Sauron found the power to defile it, then somewhere there must be the power to cleanse it. I shall seize that power and use it to make all of Gondor clean and whole again." Cirdan looked at Isildur's determined face and said no more, and the company moved now in melancholy silence, save for the creaking of leather saddles and the occasional clank of metal.

  * * *

  The road continued to ascend, winding across the floor of a bowl-shaped valley at the head of Ithil Vale. Elrond let his horse choose his own footing among the rocks littering the trail. He sat back in his saddle and eyed the precipices of the final sawtooth ridge, still high above them.

  "This road is bad enough," he said at last to Ohtar riding nearby, "but I think I see a worse. See? There, high on the northern wall."

  Ohtar followed his pointing arm and could just make out a thin line etched across the wall, above a sheer drop of many hundreds of feet to the streambed below.

  "You have keen eyes, my lord," he said. "I have been in this valley many times and I had never marked it. If it is a trail, it could be a path I have heard of in old tales. A road of evil memory."

  Elrond shaded his eyes with his hand as he peered up at it. "I should not remember it kindly either if I had to travel it. Look at that drop!"

  "It is not just the way itself, my lord, but there are legends of a fearsome creature, a she-monster, that lurks there and snares hapless travellers."

  "What a pleasant road! Has it a name?"

  "It is called Cirith Ungol, my lord."

  "The Pass of the Spider," said Elrond. "A lovely name. I wonder that anyone ever ventures upon it. Is it ever used?"

  Elendur joined their conversation. "Not by Men that I know of, my lord. I climbed up there once with some friends, but we did not venture far, not having wings. It is little more than a goat track in most places, but someone or something had long ago widened it."

  "We guessed that the orcs came that way when they attacked Minas Ithil," said Isildur, "for this main road was well guarded. I wonder what grisly toll they paid to she who guards the pass?"

  Elrond sighed. "This ride seems doomed to cheerless conversation. How far to the top?"

  Isildur glanced at the sun, just starting her descent into the west behind them. "Another hour, perhaps two," he said.

  "It will be growing dark by then," said Cirdan. "Do you believe the pass will be guarded?"

  "I would be surprised if it is not. There is a watchtower there that we built to defend Ithilien. If the orcs have not pulled it down, they no doubt will have occupied it."

  "Then again we must strike swiftly, for the night is their friend, not ours. They can see in the dark like cats."

  "Yes," agreed Isildur. "I think we must win the pass tonight before the light is fully gone, for I have no wish to spend the night here while Sauron may be hurrying reinforcements to the pass. If we can cross tonight, we can rest on the ride down the far side of the mountains. It is less steep on that side and the road is good. But we must make as many leagues as we can. We must be at the Barad-dûr before he comes forth, and that could happen at any time."

  "It is a hundred weary miles from here to the Barad-dûr," said Gildor. "We cannot hope to come there tomorrow if we ride all night and day. Both Men and horses must sleep, or they will be of no use when they reach the Tower. And the Elves must seek their rest. Everyone is nearly exhausted already."

  "Perhaps we can find a sheltered valley on the eastern side in which to lie and rest for a few hours," said Isildur. "But we must win the pass tonight if ever we can."

  * * *

  And so they pressed on, toiling ever upward. The Sirlos was no longer below them, its source lost somewhere among the jumble of boulders at the foot of the wall. The trail high above them was no longer visible either, apparently climbing out of the valley through some secret way or tunnel. The sun had now sunk so that it no longer shone down into the valley and they rode now in purple shadow, though above them the high ridges were orange and yellow against the darkening sky.

  The road wound up a long steep slope strewn with huge tumbled and leaning rocks, some taller than the highest towers of Osgiliath. The air grew chill, then cold; and men and horses shivered as their sweat dried in the thin wind. At last, just as the highest peaks were fading to a dull red, the slope decreased and they saw the pass just above them. Isildur gave the order to halt the column in the shelter of a heap of huge boulders. The leaders left their horses with Ohtar and crept forward, keeping in the shadows of the rocks. In a few moments they reached a tall pinnacle that marked the last cover before the pass. Silently they climbed the jagged crag until they could see the summit of the pass before them.

  "I see neither guards nor tower," said Gildor.

  "The watchtower is just beyond the pass," answered Isildur, "for it was built to face east, not west. For once my own defenses are not turned against us. If fortune is with us Malithôr did not stop to warn them. Orcs make poor and unreliable sentries, especially in a remote and lonely outpost such as this. Like as not they will get in out of the cold wind and fall to gaming and quarreling, their favorite pursuits."

  "I also see no barricade at the summit."

  "No. There was not one of old, for the tower was built as a watchtower only. I had feared the orcs might have built a wall, but surely they would have built it there on the right, where the road goes through that narrow passage. Apparently they did not expect an assault from the west."

  "Why should they?" said Elrond. "They know the armies of Gondor and Lindon are both already in Gorgoroth. They have no reason to suspect the existence of our host."

  "Unless our friend Malithôr has reached them," growled Isildur.

  "Let us then form up in battle order before they discover us," said Cirdan, "and ride hard over the summit in a body. When they see our numbers they will be none too eager to fight. Orcs like a fight only when their foes are weak and few. With any luck we can drive right through them and be on our way down the other side before they can collect their wits."

  "
Very well," agreed Isildur. "But let one company assail the tower while the rest of the host crosses the pass. I would not have the entire column ride by the foot of the tower under fire."

  "Agreed. Pass the word to form up the divisions. And be as silent as possible." They climbed down and crept back to the others. The quartermasters were moving along the column, handing up waybread to the riders. The hostlers went about placing feedbags on the horses and brought skins of water for all.

  Elendur approached Isildur. "Father, I would lead the attack on the tower if I might. This is the last outpost of Ithilien, and it would give me great pleasure to drive the orcs out of it."

  "Very well," said Isildur. "But take care. Remember we do not have to take the tower. The important thing is to keep the orc archers pinned down until the column is past. Once we are past, the orcs may keep the tower until we return for all I care. And do not chase any that escape. They will be no threat to us. So take no unnecessary risks. I want you at my side in Gorgoroth."

  "I will be there, father. And thank you. I will take the First Forithilien company if I may. They are familiar with the pass and the tower."

  "May Elbereth protect you, my son." Isildur watched his son ride off back down the column with a mixture of pride and anxiety. Elrond saw the look on his face.

  "It is hard to send your son into battle, is it not?"

  "Aye. I want him to be a brave warrior, a strong leader. He will be king one day, and there is nothing to teach responsibility and leadership like leading men into war. But as a father I would rather have him walk in peace and safety and live to a ripe old age to dandle his grandchildren on his knee." Isildur smiled at the thought. Cirdan nodded, but said no more, his face grave. Whatever Elves saw of the fortunes to come, they seldom spoke of it to Men.

  The column was broken into combat formation: many tight blocks of riders, four abreast, pikemen on the outer files, archers in the center. Each company rode under its own flag and was commanded by its own captain so it could operate independently if need be. The horses snorted and stamped, for they could sense the tension and excitement of their riders.