Rushing on, they rounded the corner and found four of the men they had left guarding the barracks hard pressed by a much larger number of orcs that surrounded them. All about them lay the bodies of men and orcs. As Turgon's men ran forward, one of the four was cut down by a savage swipe of a jagged sword.
Howling with anger, they fell on the orcs with a cold fury, but two more men lay dead before the battle was won. They stood panting and looking at the carnage around them. One of the defenders wiped the blood from his eyes and looked at Turgon.
"Our thanks, my lord," he gasped. "Six of us kept forty of the foe trapped in that cellar until Isildur's van passed by. Finally they burst through the door. We slew many, but at last they killed one of ours and broke out. Those you slew were the last."
"Our thanks to you, yeomen," said Turgon. "Your valor has spared the lives of many of our comrades. But our work is far from done. Let us move from house to house, clearing each of the vermin that infest it, until no living orc remains within the city. By nightfall this evening Osgiliath will be one city again."
Just then the sounds of renewed battle reached them from the direction of the square. Hurrying there, they found that a large company of orcs from the northern part of the city had driven into the square from the north, endeavoring to cut off the infantry, now pouring across the bridge, from the cavalry, now racing out of the city.
A great battle filled the square, along with clouds of dust and the commotion of shouts of anger, cries of pain, and the clashing of metal on metal. These orcs were larger, better trained, and better armed. They wore steel armor over their thick scaly hides. They drove the men back by their sheer ferocity, slashing this way and that with their heavy crooked swords. Their leader, a huge greenish orc with a flat snakelike head, thrust viciously at his adversaries and then leaped atop their corpses to better wield his bloody trident. Howling in triumph, he thrust again and again at the press of men around him, taking a life with nearly every stroke. Several times arrows struck him, but always they bounced off his heavy armor. He raised his head and roared, striking terror in all who heard him.
Suddenly his roar changed to a scream of pain and outrage, and he stared down in horror at the feathers of a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Then a dozen hands grasped him and pulled him down among the flashing blades. Looking up, Galdor saw Amroth at the high tower window, smiling grimly and already rewinding the orcish crossbow. Again and again it twanged, dealing swift death to the orcs. Finally, leaderless, frightened, and confused, they broke and fled wailing down the street, closely pursued by the men of Gondor.
Gradually the tumult died away and the fighting moved away into other parts of the city. Amroth rested then and looked away to the east. Far away, a long dark line was climbing steadily toward the pine-clad Mountains of Shadow.
Isildur held Fleetfoot to a steady canter now, letting him rest from the long furious run. The road was smooth, wide, and straight, and the cavalry had formed up behind him in orderly ranks. Beside him rode Cirdan, Celeborn, and Galadriel, and in the rank just behind were Ohtar, Gildor, and Elrond with the banners. They had surprised several bands of orcs on the road but they had fled in terror at the first sight of the grim-faced warriors. The sun rose high before them.
The road approached a ring of huge pine trees where it crossed the road running up from Harad to the Morannon. As expected, the Crossroads was defended by a large garrison of orcs. They were already forming up in a wide band across the road. Charging upon them at full speed, the van quickly broke through their line, then wheeled to surround them. There followed a short but fierce skirmish, but the orcs were greatly outnumbered and were soon overwhelmed. The column formed up again and moved on.
As they rode through the line of trees and into the Crossroads, the Elves saw there a large statue of Isildur, seated on a throne and staring sternly off into the west toward Osgiliath. The statue had been set up as a warning and notice to all who passed that this was the fief of Isildur. The king was back in his homeland again. He did not glance aside at his likeness, but rode on with his eyes fixed on the heights above.
Once past the Crossroads there were no more orcs to be seen and the host rode on unhindered through a sparse forest of pines and firs. Ohtar now rode at Isildur's side. He sniffed the air appreciatively.
"It smells like home, Sire," he said. "This part of the land always reminded me of the Emyn Arnen. I'm glad to see it unchanged." Isildur nodded.
"I used to hunt in these woods, years ago," he said. "I remember one trip, with Anárion and father, we hunted a large and noble stag right into that grove at the Crossroads. We camped there. It was early on, and Osgiliath was still under construction. After the hunt we three stood there and looked down on the city — it was all one-story buildings and dirt roads in those days. It was a good moment, seeing our works going up like that.
"Father looked across at the White Mountains in the distance and said 'There should be fortresses in those mountains and these, to guard our new capital. A tower over yonder on that great blue peak could view the whole valley of the Anduin from the Nindalf halfway to Pelargir. Another on this side could defend all these fair lands from north, south, or east.'
"Anárion spoke up at once. 'I would live on that mountain, Father,' he said. 'I climbed it once and it is the fairest prospect in all the land.'
"'For my part,' said I, 'these tree-shaded slopes are more to my liking. They are better watered and I am fond of the music of a mountain stream. Let Anárion have the blue mountain. I would build my fortress here.'
"Elendil laughed, saying, 'Are you dividing up my kingdom already? We have worked hard to unite the many tribes of these valleys. Would you now make two kingdoms of Gondor?'
"'Nay, Father,' said Anárion with a smile. 'But would not your two fortresses be best ruled by your two sons? Let us guide the building of them and you shall decide which is the most beautiful and strong. And you will always know that friendly eyes are watching over Osgiliath from above.'
"'Osgiliath is scarcely walled and already you talk of building new fortresses. But the symmetry pleases me. Let is be thus.' He looked to both sites, then smiled. 'And look, the very orbs of the heavens do ordain it. There, where the sun begins to blush on the high snowfields of the White Mountains, let Minas Anor, the Tower of the Setting Sun, rise under Anárion's hand. And up there, where now the moon climbs over the high passes of the Mountains of Shadow, I would have you, Isildur, build Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Rising Moon. So will your names, given so long ago in Númenor, be fulfilled and Gondor will be the more secure.'
"And so it was done, though I chose the next valley to the south for my city, for there is both a clear stream there and also an ancient path that crossed the mountains into Mordor. We widened the trail and built a smooth road over the pass." His nostalgic smile faded. "Little did I think when I built that road that it would one day carry enemies to our door and sorrow to our land. But soon we will drive them back up that road and out of Gondor forever."
Now they were approaching Minas Ithil and still there was no sign of an alarm. Isildur reined in and waited for the Elf-lords and the other captains to join him.
"In another few hundred yards this wood will end," he said. "When we come out of the trees we will come to a bridge over the stream and behold the city above us. I would have us in full gallop before we are seen from the walls. But that means we won't know what forces we will find there. If the foe is fore-warned, they may be arrayed before the city. Everyone must be prepared for immediate battle. Let the riders form up in close order with a lancer on the ends of each rank. If we are hard-pressed, each division will form a ring with the lancers on the outside. My men of Ithilien shall be in the first division, for they know the land.