As the long night wore on, the glowing lights in the east gradually faded and one by one flickered out. Then a white light appeared in exactly the same place. Amroth was about to point it out to the others, but it soon rose from the sea and was seen to be Eärendil, the Morning Star, presaging the dawn. Soon after, a soft glow gathered on that same horizon and the looming seas around them took on long grey shapes. Then came a brilliant yellow gleam and suddenly the sun rose over the bow.
There behind them and on either side rode the great swan ships of Mithlond, their prows splitting the grey seas. Already a few were altering course slightly to close up around the flagship for the daylight formation. The new sun turned their sails a shell pink and cast diamonds into the spray at their bows. The fleet looked proud and strong, though they numbered but ten long swanships, thirty smaller corbitas, and a half dozen cogs. Most lay to windward, off their starboard quarter, and on each sail was emblazoned in gold the eight-pointed star of the Noldor. At each masthead flew the white banner of Galathilion, the Silver Tree.
Beyond the main body of the fleet loomed the dark mass of Tolfalas, the Island of Cliffs, which they had passed unseen in the night. Far away to larboard were the green rolling hills and white cliffs of Belfalas. Far ahead, just visible now in the slowly clearing haze, was a low dark line.
"What is that black shore ahead of us?" asked Amroth.
"Those are the willows of the Ethir Anduin," answered Gilrondil. "There among those immense trees, the mighty Anduin flows by many mouths into the sea."
As the day waxed and the line of trees drew nearer, many gaps began to appear, marking the passages between islands. They made for the northernmost, close under the beetling cliffs of North Cape, for it was the widest and least troubled by rips and overfalls when the tide was in flood. As they drew near, Amroth climbed into the weather rigging and searched the coasts for any signs of life.
"What see you, Amroth?" cried Gilrondil from the aftercastle. "Are there any sails?"
"No. There is nothing."
"That is not good. The Men of Pelargir keep always several picket ships at the Ethir. They should have challenged us long before. The Ethir is never unguarded. Keep a sharp eye."
At that moment came a hail from the ship nearest to starboard. "Something floats in the water, Lord Cirdan. Just ahead of us."
Cirdan stepped quickly to the rail and called back. "Heave to, Hithimir, and see what it is." The other ship quickly dropped its sail and its slow and stately pitch became a wallowing in the heavy seas. Amroth could see sailors rushing forward to peer down at some dark object rising and falling in the water.
"It appears to be wreckage, Lord," came the cry.
"Gilrondil!" shouted Cirdan. "Signal all ships to heave to. Bring us alongside Hithimir's ship." A string of flags flew to the masthead and the Elves leaped to the braces to haul the yard around into the wind. A moment of thundering canvas, then the sail was clewed up and bunted in. The ship lost way and drifted over toward Hithimir's ship. Soon they could all see the dark object bobbing in the clear blue water.
At first Amroth could make no sense of what it was. It seemed to be a jumble of blackened logs, skewed at every angle, entangled in vines. Suddenly Amroth realized he was looking at the rigging of a large ship. A crossed mast and yard drifted in a tangle of rope and blackened sailcloth. Then with a shock of horror he saw a body tangled in the rigging, floating face-downwards, the long brown hair drifting around it. Everything was burned and blackened, but the masthead was undamaged and a few feet beneath the surface a blue banner streamed in the water — a gold citadel on a blue field.
"That is the banner of Pelargir," said Cirdan.
"There can no longer be any doubt," said Gilrondil. "The pickets of Gondor are destroyed and the Ethir is taken."
"A curse on the storm that delayed us! We have come too late."
"This can only be the work of the Corsairs of Umbar. Pelargir may already be destroyed," said Gilrondil in a voice of despair.
Cirdan turned to him. "The flames were but five hours past. The Corsairs could not have reached Pelargir yet. They must still be in the River."
"They could be hidden among the islands, lying in wait for us," said Gilrondil.
"I think not. If they had known we were here they would have attacked us out here in the open bay. They would never let themselves be bottled up within the River, with us the stopper."
Gilrondil studied the islands and the openings between them. He pointed to the North Cape. "We could lie in wait beyond that headland and fall upon them as they return. If we strike just as they attempt this pass, we will have the weather gauge and they will be on a lee shore in close waters and will be sore hindered."
But Cirdan shook his head. "Gil-galad sent us to aid Gondor against its enemies. If Pelargir is now to be besieged, it would be small aid to its people to strike its attackers after the city is fallen. We must attempt to prevent the attack, not avenge it. Nay, our way lies up Anduin, and as fast as may be."
"My Lord," said Gilrondil, "it is unlikely we will overtake them, for they have at least five hours head start. From the look of those bluffs along the west bank, the wind is sure to be fickle in the River and we may have to tack against the current while they can row against it even if the wind dies completely. Also, if they dare to attack Pelargir they must be in their full force and must surely outnumber us. Even if we were to catch them in the River, the current will be in their favor. And they have great experience in combat in narrow waters. In pursuing them we are giving up every military advantage."
"These things are all true, Gilrondil, and it is your duty to point them out to me. Nevertheless, it is my duty to help defend Pelargir. With the picket ships destroyed, most likely the city is unaware of the danger approaching. We have no choice but to try to warn them and give what assistance we can. The Corsairs must soon encounter the main body of the Pelargrim fleet, and it is mighty and experienced in these waters. No matter their strength, they cannot hope to pass up to Pelargir without heavy losses. Most likely the two fleets are engaged already. If we were to appear suddenly at their rear and fall upon them, they would be pinned between us and the Pelargrim. And we should have that most able of allies, surprise, at our side.
"Now we must fly before it is too late. If the Corsairs were to best the Pelargrim fleet before we arrive, we would have a hard time of it ourselves. Hoist the signals to get under way and to prepare for battle. We are unlikely to see them before they see us, so we must be ready to attack as soon as we sight them."
Gilrondil bowed and raised his booming voice. "Cast off the brails! Brace the yard round! Haul and belay! Sheet home! Sheet home!" The mariners leaped to the rigging and the ship surged forward as if struck with a whip. At the same time the signals broke at the masthead and all around them the great sails dropped and bellied. The fleet formed up and drove for the northern mouth of Anduin.
As soon as all lines were coiled the mariners went below and brought forth bows and quivers and long slim swords. These were stowed in receptacles for that purpose just under the gunwales. The pieces of a small catapult were brought up from the hold and assembled on the forecastle. Long lances were fitted into sockets pointing outward from the rails and boarding nets were stretched between them.
Amroth donned his mailed shirt and his cuirass and helm. He set his bow and quiver ready to hand and buckled his sword belt. As he stood stringing his bow, Gilrondil called to him. "You had best use one of our longbows, Lord Amroth. Your short Sindarin bow is unsuited for the long shots required at sea."