The Elves at the paddles began a steady stroke, struggling to keep the boat headed for the eastern shore. At first their attempts at steering only caused the coracle to spin, but they soon learned the trick of coordinating their strokes. The current was only moderate, but the coracles were so slow and unwieldy that they could see the towers of the city's southern walls approaching before they drew in under the shadow of the buildings lining the far shore. Now they were in easy bowshot of any guards on the east bank, but still no sound but the River met their straining ears.
Turgon and the other boats drew together in an eddy behind an outthrust stone pier. Amroth's boat paddled hard to reach it before they were swept past. At last they drew into the calmer water. No word was spoken. Turgon pointed silently toward a black inlet between two overhanging buildings, and without a word they all made for it. The current was nearly still here, and they slipped noiselessly into the shadows, breathing sighs of relief.
The larger building, apparently another warehouse, was built partially out over the water, and they pulled themselves among the concealing pilings. The smell of mud and rotting fish was intense in the close space.
"All here?" whispered Amroth.
"Aye. Eight boats. Let's go."
One of the Elves found an old wooden ladder on one of the pilings and scrambled up onto a rickety wooden walkway that went around the building. It took some time to unload each boat, for they had to maneuver the boat to the ladder, hand up the weapons and packs, clamber out, then work the boat out of the way and secure it before the next could be moved in. But in less than half an hour they were gathered at the end of a narrow alley, their cloaks wrapped about them, their weapons clutched in their hands.
"Carefully, carefully," whispered Amroth. "Stay close to the walls and watch the windows and doorways. Above all, we must see them before they see us. If we are spotted, try to bring them down before they can give the alarm. If they don't see us, let them go. We'll get our chance to fight soon enough." He was still worried about Turgon's men, though they moved with discipline and order.
"We need to keep moving north," Turgon said. "That's where the Bridge is."
"And the orcs," someone replied grimly.
For nearly an hour, they moved noiselessly from shadow to shadow. There was no sign of life. All the buildings were dark and silent. Apparently this whole part of the city was deserted. They estimated they must be nearing the eastern end of the Great Bridge. Then, as they approached yet another cross street, they could hear the sound of marching feet and melted silently into doorways and arches. Amroth crept forward and peered cautiously around the crumbling corner of an old brick building.
A company of perhaps twenty orcs was approaching. They were squat and bent, but very powerful, with large chests and short bowed muscular legs and long arms that reached nearly to the ground. They were of many different breeds and lands, and their faces showed it. Some were thin vulture-like things with heavy curved beaks. Others were hairy beasts with muzzles like baboons. Some wore rough leather boots, others trotted barefoot on wide three-toed feet. They wore armor of black unburnished iron and bore swords with long jagged blades. They were trotting along at a good pace, but without any sign of caution. Clearly they did not know the raiders were there. Amroth ducked into a dark doorway.
The orcs turned the corner into their street and the raiders tightened their grips on their weapons. But the orcs turned into a building across the way. Their heavy feet clattered down a flight of stairs. Then they were gone. A moment later Turgon ran up.
"I would guess that is the Bridge garrison's day watch returning to their barracks," he whispered. "Orcs prefer to sleep below ground if possible. If they have just come off watch, they are likely to sleep until near dawn."
"Shall we go on to the Bridge or try to take them?" asked one of the men.
"No. The night watch has just come on duty and will be fresh. A sound now will bring them all running. We will give them an hour to become drowsy and careless. But we can check on the exits from those barracks. If we can keep them in there instead of having to fight them, so much the better."
A half-dozen Elves moved silently forward and examined the barracks on all sides.There were four small windows at ground level, but they were too low for even an orc to wriggle through. There was a second door at the rear of the building, though it looked as if it had not been opened in a long time. Some of Turgon's men found some wooden beams in a vacant lot down the block and wedged them carefully against the door. Leaving two men there and six more at the front door, the rest moved around the corner and down the next street. It was sloping gently to the River.
A small square opened before them, dominated on the far side by two round stone towers. Between them lay the gate of the Bridge, blocked by a wooden barricade bristling on the far side with spears. Four or five orcs lolled by the barricade, speaking in low harsh voices. A window in the northern tower showed a flickering red glow. As they peered from the shadows, they were startled by a resounding crash of broken glass, followed by shriek of pain and a roar of coarse laughter. Obviously most of the watch had retired to the tower for a bottle or two, leaving only a handful at the barrier.
Amroth signalled for the others to withdraw with him into a small courtyard opening off the square. "They are but few," whispered one of the Elves. "We could take them easily."
"So it would seem," Amroth replied, "but let us not be duped."
"Aye," said Turgon. "These buildings around the square could be full of orcs. If so, one sound would raise the alarm and the square would turn into a trap."
"Yes. We must know how many are around the square. If we separate into small groups and move cautiously, we should be able to search all the buildings that actually front on the square. See if you can determine where the orcs are. Above all, we must avoid making any contact before dawn, for there are sure to be hundreds of orcs nearby. We could not hope to fight them all. If you must strike, be swift and silent. After you have searched your building, station yourselves at likely vantage points above the square where you can do some good when Isildur arrives at dawn. Let us go."
They moved down a narrow alley that ran behind the buildings that fronted on the square. At each door three or four entered and began a silent search. Turgon and two Elves slipped into one large house and moved noiselessly down a long dark hallway. It had clearly once been a noble mansion with a marble floor and wood panelling, though all was now chipped and filthy. Approaching a closed door, they could hear loud snoring coming from behind it. Flitting quietly past, they found the rest of the floor empty, as was the level above. Then as they ascended the stairs to the third floor they froze in their tracks, for low speech could be heard above. Not daring to go up without knowing how many might be there, they secreted themselves in a small room near the stairs to await the dawn.
Galdor and Amroth with two other Elves tried the door of a large stately building with a domed roof and a tower overlooking the square. The door was locked, but they found a window they could open and soon they were all standing in a dark room. With bows drawn and arrows nocked, they carefully opened an inner door. Beyond was a large and elegant room, perhaps a ballroom, beneath the dome. On the far side, an arched doorway led to winding steps that must go up into the tower. They padded silently across the polished floor.
Suddenly a door flew open, light flooded into the hall, and an orc entered carrying a large sack. For an instant he stared, his mouth open and eyes wide, then he dropped the sack and raced back the way he had come. He had not taken three steps when two arrows pierced his back and his body slid to a stop in the doorway. The others waited, but there was no sound but their pounding hearts.