Isildur Read online

  How long they climbed like that, none of them could guess. The cinders slid away beneath their feet, raising choking clouds of ash and dust that swirled away in a growing wind — a hot wind that swept down the slope into their faces. It became harder to breath or even see the way ahead. Every step was an effort of will, a denial of the despair that filled their hearts. What could they possibly hope to accomplish if they did catch Sauron? How did they dare to challenge him? Did they not know he was immortal — a Maia, created by The One Himself when the world was new? What could mere foolish Children do against such as he?

  Isildur at one point sank beneath the weight, falling to his knees in the cinders. His shoulders shook in a great sob. He could not take another step. It was madness to go on. Why didn't the others see it, too? The thought of the others made him look up. Elrond and Cirdan plodded heavily on. Then they disappeared, hidden in the thickening fumes that drifted and swirled about the Mountain's flanks. He was alone.

  "Father!" he called. "Wait for me." But his voice seemed weak and frail, swept away by the wind. No answer came, and he struggled to his feet and went on. The sounds of the battle far below faded away. The swirling smoke obscured both the plain below and the summit above. All he could see was the grey slope of the volcano, broken here and there by piles of slag and streams of steaming lava. The air was like fire in his lungs. His lips were parched and his eyes burned from the fumes and heat. And above everything else was the unending sense of despair, of impending doom. He trudged upward, his mind blank, his eyes watching his feet sinking into the cinders and ash, sometimes nearly to his knees.

  Then he stumbled onto a stony uneven road cut into the slope. He stopped and looked around. The road climbed up from the left and disappeared around the shoulder of the Mountain to his right. Preferring anything to this endless trudging up the cinder slope, he turned right and plodded off up the road, still climbing steeply.

  He rounded the shoulder and climbed a short steep slope and there before him was a level platform of rough lava blocks. He stopped and looked up in surprise. The road disappeared into an arched tunnel that plunged straight in toward the heart of the Mountain. The tunnel's mouth pulsed with a lurid red glare, sending long black shadows back from four silhouetted figures. Gil-galad and Elendil stood there at the mouth of the tunnel, watched by Elrond and Cirdan a few yards further back. The black gloom they had been following was emanating from that red hole. Isildur came up behind Elrond.

  "What is it?" he gasped, his voice barely a croak. "Where is Sauron?"

  "It is the mouth of the Sammath Naur, and we believe he is within."

  The Mountain shuddered beneath them and they staggered to keep their feet. The red glare brightened with a blast of hot air, and a tongue of flame flicked briefly from the top of the tunnel mouth.

  "Are they… are they going in?"

  "I do not know," answered Elrond, never taking his eyes from the Kings. "For myself, I do not think I could. Surely nothing could survive in that heat."

  But just then something moved in the glare beyond. The flames swirled and roared, and then parted to reveal a dark figure, black against the pulsing red glow. Isildur started back in terror, throwing his sword up before his face. A tall thin figure stepped out onto the rough pavement and they could see it clearly at last.

  "Malithôr!" cried Isildur.

  "We meet again, Isildur Elendilspawn," sneered the Black Númenórean. "As you see, all your plans have come to naught in the end."

  "We have destroyed the fleet of Umbar, retaken Minas Ithil, and defeated the army of Mordor," said Isildur. "Is this what you call naught, Mouth of Sauron?"

  The thin lips pressed even tighter. "Your petty victories are meaningless while Sauron rules the Flame. These crimes against His Lordship shall be punished many times over. Though you shall all die here, your people will soon find He is not a forgiving Master. Your insolent pride shall be cut from the flesh of your families and subjects until no trace of it remains. They will come to curse your names."

  "You shall have to slay us first," growled Isildur.

  Malithôr actually laughed. "You cannot still hope to prevail, you fools. Do you not see where you are? You are come to the Flame of Udûn. Here is the seat of His power. Here He is supreme. If you have come here to attack Sauron, you are even greater fools than I thought."

  "Fools we may be," said Gil-galad, "but we are not fools enough to heed your words. Stand aside, traitor. Our quarrel is with your master, not with his slaves."

  "I am no slave, you meddling Elf. I am Malithôr, of the house of Ar-Pharazôn the Golden. I am Sauron's spokesman when he deigns to treat with fools such as yourselves. I am his treasured colleague, and it was through my efforts that your every move was thwarted."

  "Why does a Man of Númenor," asked Elendil, "stoop to aid a thing of evil like Sauron? And against your own people. We are cousins, after all."

  Malithôr wheeled furiously on Elendil. "Because you and your family caused the eclipse of the glory that was Númenor, you arrogant traitor! You Elf-lovers were ever in league with the Valar who destroyed our homeland. And now you think to set yourselves up as overlords in Middle-earth. We shall drive you and your meddling Elvish friends back into the sea. Middle-earth has belonged to the Men of Umbar for these long ages, and when Sauron has destroyed you all, I shall be Emperor of Umbar and lord of all the lands you now think to rule."

  "You blind fool!" cried Elendil. "It was your master with his treacherous lies who brought about the downfall of Númenor. He pretended to advise King Pharazôn, but in the end he destroyed him and his whole kingdom. The Valar destroyed our island of Elenna only because Pharazôn violated their Ban. Sauron knew what would happen. He well knew that Men could not become immortal merely by sailing to Valinor. He used Pharazôn's pride to destroy the kingdom that had humbled him. He betrayed the king, and he will betray you as well. You will never be an emperor, Mouth of Sauron — you will be his lackey!"

  "Enough!" came a voice like thunder from deep within the tunnel. All fell back before it. Even Malithôr cowered before the hatred in that voice.

  Then a second shape emerged from the glare, taller and broader and blacker. It stepped forward, but it was so wreathed in its own Shadow that they could not see it clearly. It seemed to be generally man-like in shape, but much larger, and it had great vast wings that loomed above it, so that it towered even taller. The head might have been that of a vulture, save that it was scaled like some hideous viper. The eyes glowed a baleful red from a flat reptilian face. It loomed over Gil-galad like a cobra over a mouse.

  "Gil-galad," hissed that terrible voice. "You have come at last. For two ages of the world have we contended with each other. Too long have you meddled in my affairs, Ereinion. But now you are finished."

  "It is you that has met your doom, Spawn of Melkor," replied Gil-galad. "Your allies are destroyed, your hordes are in flight. You have managed to creep back up here to your hole, but you will never go down the mountain again. You are trapped."

  "You think you have me trapped?" sneered Sauron. "Do you think we are all here by accident? I planned this meeting a thousand years ago, and now my efforts have borne sweet fruit. Don't you see, old fool? You were brought here, every one of you, by me." He raised his hand, and on it they could see a plain golden band.

  "Behold the One," he said. "It was forged here in the Sammath Naur, for one purpose only — to bring all the Great Rings to me here. This it has now done. Now all my plans and labors of a thousand years are complete. I already hold the Nine and all of the Seven that survived. And now I have the Three. Once I slay you three Elves, I will take your rings and meld them together with the One. All the might of all the Great Rings of Power will be mine alone, and none shall ever dare to threaten me again."

  "But first you must slay us, Unclean One," said Gil-galad. "And before you can do that you must first taste this!" And he stepped forward with his spear held before him, and its point gleamed white and pure, like
moonlight on new-fallen snow. "Behold Aeglos Snowpoint, that was forged to be your doom."

  "And this," said Elendil, stepping up beside his friend. He held up his sword, and red flame ran along its edge. "This is Narsil, and it is thirsty for your blood."

  Sauron gave a harsh croaking laugh. "Do you think that I, who made the One and who bear it now, who can raise up mountains and cause the seas to boil — do you think I fear such puny weapons as these? Behold now the inconceivable power of Udûn!" And he raised up his arms like the wings of some terrible bird of prey. The flame shone in his eyes.

  "Behold, despair, and die!"

  Isildur saw his father suddenly rush forward, sweeping Narsil above his head, then there was a blinding flash and a clap of thunder like the end of the world. He had a quick glimpse of his father rising into the air. Then he felt himself being lifted and thrown backwards. His limbs flailed helplessly. Then he was smashed down on the ground and his world went black.

  * * *

  Elendil was closest to Sauron when the blast came. He took the force of it full in his face, and he was crushed by it. His body was lifted into the air and thrown backwards like a discarded doll, every limb twisted and broken. Narsil flew spinning from his lifeless hands, and his body landed on it with such force that the tempered steel blade snapped beneath him.

  The Ringbearers Cirdan and Elrond were further away, but they were knocked over backwards and tumbled along the ground by the force of the blast. Though burned and bruised, they were not seriously injured. But some sorcery of the One Ring seized on them and left them powerless. Their bodies would not respond. A great weight held them motionless. Strive as they might, they could only lie and watch in horror as Sauron slowly emerged from the tunnel. Massive and dark he was, with great long arms and thick legs like the trunks of old trees. Great leathery wings rose above his shoulders like those of some immense bat. His face was flat and scaled, with glowing red eyes that gloated now in triumph.

  Gil-galad had been a few paces behind Elendil, but he too was flung high in the air and smashed brutally down on the lava. He lay stunned but conscious. He could feel the stabs of many broken bones and his breath gurgled deep in his chest. One leg lay twisted at an impossible angle, and he could taste blood rising in his throat. He knew he was mortally wounded, but he found Aeglos somehow still clutched in his hands. Then he looked up and saw Sauron stooping over him. That hideous face came down to his. He could smell sulphur and decay. The cold red eyes burned down at him in triumph. The lips curled back, showing long curving yellow teeth.

  "You ignorant fool!" hissed Sauron. "Did you really think you could contend with me? I am one of the Ainur, older than the world. My kind made this world, and we made your kind as well. We made you, and we can unmake you. You have no concept of the power I wield. The One is master to the Three, you see, even as I am master to you. While you wear them it can hold you as helpless as a fly in a web. I can slay you all as easily as I would step on an insect." The horrible face cracked in a crooked smile. "So here ends the great Ereinion the Gil-galad — not nobly, marching bravely forward against a foe, but lying helpless on his back like a grovelling dog. Long have you been an annoyance to me. Though you die here now, know also that after your deaths, all that you have worked and fought for will be destroyed. Now the Three are mine, and soon all the world will be mine. I will rule in Gondor, and Lindon, and in the Golden Wood as well. Farewell, old fool. But before I kill you I want you to watch how easily I take your beloved Vilya from you, and know that its power is mine forever."

  He reached down toward Gil-galad's hands, but then the glow of self-satisfied triumph disappeared from his face. A flicker of doubt came to his eyes. "What? He does not have it? Then where…" But before he could straighten up, Gil-galad with the last of his strength thrust upward with Aeglos, driving the shining steel through Sauron's body. The spear point tore from his back and the shaft burst into flame. Gil-galad fell back dead.

  With a piercing scream of pain and rage that echoed across all of Gorgoroth, Sauron rose to his full height, the burning spear protruding from his chest. He clutched at it, but the fire swirled up his arms and enveloped him. He stood there a moment more, a terrible shrieking, writhing figure of flame. Then he collapsed forward across Gil-galad's body. A long rending howl rose above the roaring flames, and for an instant something could be seen moving, rising with the oily black smoke. It drifted away and dissipated in the breeze, and the unearthly shriek faded slowly into a gurgling moan, then silence.

  * * *

  Isildur woke lying on his back, staring up at a sky streaked with smoke. He became aware of a crackling sound nearby. He rolled over with a groan and discovered that he was badly bruised and his face had been burned. He struggled unsteadily to his feet and looked around. A few yards away lay Elrond and Cirdan, both motionless, their eyes wide and staring. His heart sank at the sight. Two noble Elf-Lords, slain at one stroke. Then he turned and saw something burning fiercely near the mouth of the tunnel. He stumbled to it and saw to his horror that it was a body, perhaps two. Then he saw a blackened head wreathed in flames, and it bore the crown of Lindon.

  "Gil-galad too? And Sauron escaped." Then he looked around wildly. "Father? Father?!" There was nothing else to see on the stone platform. Then he remembered that last glimpse of his father darting forward with Narsil before him. Fearfully, Isildur went to the mouth of the tunnel and, shading his hand against the glare, peered within. A figure lay sprawled in the tunnel. It was his father.

  He stumbled in and fell to his knees beside the broken body. "Dead! They are all dead! Oh, this the end of all our hopes! Oh, my father, I would have died for you. I should have died for you." And he put his head down on his father's chest and wept, great racking sobs that shook his body.

  When at last the sobs stopped, he sat back on his heels and looked at his father's body. He saw Narsil broken beneath him and he pulled the broken shards free. He looked at the beautiful blade, still as sharp as a razor. For a wild moment he considered throwing himself on the blade and ending his pain. But then he knew that he had to find Sauron. It was up to him now. He was alone, and he had no ring and no enchanted weapon.

  He pushed himself to his feet. Still carrying the broken sword, he stumbled from the Sammath Naur. Gil-galad's body was still burning, but the flames had gone down enough for him to see that it was indeed two bodies entangled. But who could it be? The others were all dead. Was it Malithôr? He bent and looked more closely. And then he saw a blackened hand protruding stiffly from the fire, closed like a talon. And on one smoldering finger was a golden Ring, bright and unsullied by the flame.

  He stared for a long moment before it made sense. This was the One Ring. Then the second corpse was that of Sauron. But even now his Shadow was unbroken.

  Dumbly, still hardly comprehending, he was suddenly filled with a rage. He raised the broken blade of Narsil high above his head and slashed down, severing the finger. The Ring dropped to the ground with a musical clink. Immediately the thing that had been Sauron crumbled into dust, and the terrible fear and despair that was his Shadow fell away and was gone. The Mountain gave a convulsive tremor and a bright gout of flame gushed from the Sammath Naur. Freed of the Shadow at last, Isildur straightened up.

  "Now Sauron is no more!" he hissed, kicking disdainfully at the heap of grey dust, already being scattered by the wind. Then he saw the Ring lying there on the stone. Suddenly it seemed to him the most beautiful and desirable object he had ever seen.

  "This I will have," he said, "as weregild for my father's death, and my brother's! Was it not I that dealt the Enemy his death-blow?" But even as he bent to pick it up, a voice rang out behind him.

  "Touch it not!"

  He whirled around, and there was Cirdan standing before him. Just beyond, Elrond was struggling to his feet. Their faces were blackened, their hair and clothing singed, but they were alive.

  "My Lords! I had thought you dead."

  "Not dead, as you see,
" said Cirdan with an effort, "but held in thrall by the power of the One. When you cut the Ring from his hand, its power was broken and we were released."

  "The others were not so fortunate. Gil-galad and my father are dead."

  "We know," said Elrond. "We saw it all, but could do nothing to help. Sauron was too sure of himself. He thought Gil-galad was bound by Vilya and he bent close to gloat. Though Gil-galad was mortally wounded, still he struck upward with Aeglos and slew him, as was foretold so long ago. But Sauron fell across him and they were both consumed. I think the king died in the same stroke that slew Sauron. But even then I was still held bound by the One. I could do nothing but watch."

  "I thought you and Elrond were dead," said Cirdan. "I was afraid that we would die up here, lying helpless as the Mountain destroys itself. Before you roused, I saw Malithôr creep out of the tunnel, take one horrified look at his master, and slink off as fast as he could go. I was most happy to see you stir." He stepped on Sauron's severed finger and ground it into black ash. "So passes Sauron the Enemy. May his like never be seen in this world again."

  But Isildur could feel no joy with his father's body lying broken and lifeless before him. "And so pass the greatest heroes of our age, both Elf and Man," he said.

  "Aye," said Cirdan, "and so too passes the One Ring, that should never have been made."

  Isildur knelt there looking down at the shining thing in the dust, and again there came that strong urge to possess it. "No," he said at last. "Sauron was the source of the evil, not his Ring. It is still a Great Ring of Power, and the mightiest of them all. The Three survive and will continue to do good works. I will take this unto myself. With it I shall cleanse Minas Ithil and Osgiliath, too. I shall purge the evil from all of Ithilien."

  "That would be a grave error, Isildur," said Cirdan firmly. "The One was made by Sauron and he imbued it with all his black arts. Whatever you wrought with it would be tainted and stained with his evil. It was forged here in the Sammath Naur. Let us cast it back into the Flame from whence it came." But Isildur's desire suddenly crystallized into resolve in his heart.