Barathor shook his head sadly. "Foradan dead? That noble young man? He was so eager to ride with us, but I ordered him to hold the bridge."
"From all accounts, my lord, he did all that could be done."
"And you say losses were heavy? Do you need medical assistance? I have several skilled physicians with me."
"No, my lord," said Cirdan. "My own healers are among them now. They can get no better treatment anywhere in Middle-earth."
Cirdan assured them that his own ships would soon be on station at the Ethir and patrolling the River, and that his people were helping Luindor to begin rebuilding the fleet.
"Then there is no need for us to go to Pelargir?" asked Barathor.
"None whatsoever," replied Cirdan. "Your son told me particularly to tell you that he has everything well in hand. And it is true. With the people that I left there and the supplies we brought in the fleet, they lack for nothing. The mood of the city is one of thanksgiving."
"Then we shall return to Osgiliath at once. These injuries we have suffered are the work of Sauron. Let us ride with Isildur and repay these debts. We shall take the war to Sauron's door and let him taste his own bitter medicine."
His men cheered and clashed their weapons together, eager now for revenge.
"Come, my lads," he roared. "Back to Osgiliath, and thence to Mordor!"
And so the column formed up again, back the way they had come. But what a difference in their manner! Instead of galloping at full speed, they now cantered easily, their helmets slung at their saddles. They laughed and called to one another and asked endless questions of the Elves. They passed through a few brief rain showers, but no one minded.
And thus after a hazardous voyage and a long ride, Cirdan and his Elves arrived at last at many-towered Osgiliath. Topping a small rise, they saw below them the capital of Gondor within its walls. It was the largest city many of them had ever seen. It stretched for over two miles along the banks of Anduin, with street after street of stately mansions and temples and public buildings. Domes and towers and minarets bristled into the sky. The wide Anduin wandered through the city, and across its heart stood an immense many-arched bridge like no other in Middle-earth. It was so large that it was lined with houses along both sides, each with several balconies and cloistered walkways out over the River. And beyond Anduin the city continued again, stretching away into the distance.
Amroth had been surprised by Pelargir, but he stared in wonder at this immense city, much larger even than Mithlond, and yet all so new in comparison. Few of the buildings had seen their first yén. It was as if it had sprung up overnight. Amroth wondered how mortal Men could build so much in such a short time, and all without even the most basic Elvish arts, that they in their ignorance call magic. He spurred his horse and caught up with Cirdan, now jogging along a little apart from the others.
"My Lord," he said. "This city the Men have built is a wonder to behold."
"Aye," he agreed. "Isildur and Anárion have made much progress in a few short years. And Elendil's city at Annúminas is nearly as great."
"Does it not surprise you, Lord, that creatures as ephemeral as these Atani find time enough in their brief lives to create such beauty, and on such a scale? Generations must toil and die that their descendants, whom they will never know, should have a fair home. It is as if they forget that they are mortal."
Cirdan's eyes moved over the city, taking in detail after detail. Each tower seemed lovelier than the last; each house more stately; each monument and arch more impressive.
"Perhaps it is because they are aware of their mortality that they build so feverishly," he mused. "Though they will be gone, the builders will be remembered as long as the buildings themselves stand. Perhaps it is their way of grasping at the ages that are our birthright."
Amroth considered this. "You may be right, my Lord," he conceded. "But do you ever wonder, if our roles were reversed, would we Quendi do as well?"
"That we shall never know. The Gift of Man is forever denied us."
"The Atani do not call death the Gift of Man but the Doom of Man."
"It is because they do not know so much of life or death as we Quendi. They see death but as an ending, and they are reluctant to end."
"And who is the more fortunate, I wonder? Their experience of life is brief, but is it not more intense for that? These Atani die quickly, but they also live quickly. They move and change more easily than do we. They have not our ancient wisdom, but they are clever and adaptable. They bear children when they are little more than children themselves, still in their tweens or even teens. Their numbers are constantly growing, while ours do not. And when we take the Straight Road and leave the circles of the world, they shall remain."
Amroth thought about this for a while. "I wonder what will come of the world when we Quendi have all sailed away and the world will be ruled by Men?"
"Only Eru knows that," Cirdan answered, "but for my part I think it will be a sadder and less fair place when the lore and the arts and the music of the Elves has passed from the world. I am glad I will not be here to see it. But for now, the Atani are loyal and valuable allies against the Enemy. They are our only hope of casting down Sauron, as should have been done when his master was expelled forever from the circles of the world."
Then they were approaching the gate and they turned their attention to the city. The gates were thrown open and they rode in to the cheers of the people of Osgiliath, for they had seen the Elves among the Pelargrim and knew what that signified.
Barathor led them through the city to the stairs of the great hall where the king dwelt. Isildur himself came down to meet them. He looked from Cirdan to Barathor's beaming face.
"My Lord Cirdan," he said. "What news of Pelargir?"
"We arrived but a few hours after the siege began," replied Cirdan. "Eru saw fit to give us the victory. The Corsairs are defeated and the city is safe. We left our people there and hurried to Osgiliath with all speed, for we knew Barathor had been summoned. I feared the alliance would be dissolved."
"Welcome news at last," said Isildur, standing up straighter and a smile lighting his face. "Welcome, Lords, to Osgiliath. Our undying thanks to you for your aid in our darkest hour."
"We know not how dark our hours may yet become, Isildur. We have won a battle, but the war is yet to be decided."
"True that is, but still we are much heartened that Pelargir is saved. And we are most happy to have our friend Barathor and his brave men with us again."
Isildur and Barathor clasped arms. Amroth stood looking on, smiling at the relief in every face. Then a tall figure came down the stairs behind Isildur, and to Amroth's surprise he recognized a friend.
"Elrond Peredhil!" he cried. "Are you here as well?" He looked at Amroth and smiled.
"Is that Lord Amroth?" he called.
"It is, and a changed Elf you find me, for I have sailed upon the Sea and my heart is moved."
"The Sea is always dangerous to the Noldor," said Elrond. "Welcome to Osgiliath. You will find many here that you know, some even from your homeland. There are a number of Sindar among us." He bowed to Cirdan.
"And welcome to you, Lord Cirdan. It would seem you had an eventful voyage."
"So we did. It is good to see you again, Elrond. I last saw you marching from Lindon in Gil-galad's host, ten sun-rounds ago."