Galadriel smiled grimly. "Be not fooled, Isildur. It is not the armed warriors that daunt the Black Ones, but the Rings. But your people will be welcome indeed. At least we will be safe from marauding orcs at our backs. As for the Galadrim, we shall watch at this door and await your victorious return. Then shall the Wraiths be banished forever from the circles of the world.
"Now you must go. We know not how Sauron communicates with his Úlairi. Perhaps even now he knows the city is taken."
"Father!" cried Elendur. "The Lady reminds me of something I saw from the gate tower when the army was pouring in through the gate. I marked it little at the time, but it may be of import."
"What was it?"
"A rider. A lone rider, riding hard up the road to the high pass. He must have gone out the eastern sally port before the Galadrim reached it."
"An orc or a Man?"
"A Man, certainly. Tall and thin, in black armor, with a long cape flying behind him like a wing."
Isildur caught Ohtar's eye. Ohtar nodded.
"Most likely our old friend Malithôr of Umbar," he said. "Would we had cut off his sneering head when we had the chance at Erech."
"Is this the same Man we chased at Pelargir?" asked Cirdan.
"Most likely," said Isildur. "He warned the Ring-wraiths of our coming, and now he rides to Mordor to warn his master."
"He will have a rough welcome when he meets Gil-galad and Elendil," said Elendur with a grim smile.
"But he may know secret ways into the Barad-dûr," said Celeborn. "And now he knows the Three are here. If he can get into the Tower, he will bear the tale to Sauron. If so, Sauron will not delay long before coming forth. You must make all possible haste."
Isildur, Elendur, and Elrond departed to issue their orders, but Cirdan yet lingered. Leaning close to Galadriel, he spoke in a low voice so that he should not be overheard.
"But do you truly think you can hold this door with Nenya alone?"
She met his eyes. "I think we three Noldor all know it is most unlikely, noble shipmaster. If the Úlairi knew your Rings were leaving the city, they would be at our throats before you were out of sight. Our only hope is that they are unsure and hesitate until it is too late. If they do come forth, we shall delay them as long as possible. It is your task to deal with Sauron. With their master gone, their power will be broken. May Elbereth be with you. Namarië."
"May she be with you as well. Namarië, Lady. I must ride."
The plaza was again a bustle of activity, with companies forming up, men moving about, exchanging damaged gear with those who no longer needed theirs. Commands were shouted, horsemen moved through the press. Bands of fighters poured in from the side streets where they had been going from house to house, searching out the last orcs.
The Lords rode to the head of the column. Isildur sent a messenger to carry news of the battle back to Osgiliath. With him went a courier of Pelargir, and a long black riband floated from his arm. Isildur and Elendur sat their mounts and watched him ride away.
"A long road he faces, and a sad homecoming," said Elendur.
"Aye," said Isildur. "I grieve for the Lady Heleth. She was so filled with fear for her husband."
Elendur squinted up at the sun. "It is two hours past midday. It has been but eight hours since we rode from Osgiliath. It seems a long day already."
Isildur nodded. "Many a warrior who rode into the dawn with us this morning shall never see another. And we do not even have time to mourn them. But if we are ever to have the victory in this war, I fear there will be more widows wailing in Gondor."
"Will they wail for us, I wonder?" mused Elendur. "I fear not for myself, but it pains me to think of mother and my brothers."
"If we fall," said Isildur, "I fear our mourners will not long survive us."
Looking up to the walls, he saw the battlements lined with green-clad Elves. The Lord and Lady stood on the steps of the Citadel with the greater part of their knights, looking on solemnly. Isildur raised his sword to them, then turned and led his army through the gate. Ohtar rode before him with his banner, and his son Elendur was at his side. Just behind them rode Elrond and Cirdan and his Sea-Elves of Lindon. It was much like the ride from Osgiliath that morning. The flags were as bright in the sun and the cheers as loud, but now the swords were notched and the lances stained. The column was also much shorter, missing the Galadrim and the many fallen or wounded. The horses as well as the riders were weary now, and the column slowed to a canter as soon as the last riders left the gate and the great doors swung closed behind them with a heavy thud.
They turned east at once, the towering crags of the rocky Ephel Dúath looming above them. The road wound through grasslands dotted with occasional trees, the River Sirlos tumbling below in its rocky bed. Soon both the stream and the road crowded into a narrow defile. The road narrowed as it entered the twisting canyon, but it lay between low stone walls and the paving stones were smooth and well laid.
Soon the way grew steeper. Sirlos became a series of frothing waterfalls, and the road had been hewn into the living rock of the canyon walls. Low steps appeared across the road more and more frequently, until in places they were actually riding up broad stairs, the horses' hooves clattering on the smooth stones. There was an oppressive, suffocating air to the place. The host labored upward in silence, with only the stream's thunder echoing in the hollow barren place.
At one point they rounded a turn and saw the Sirlos, reduced to little more than a freshet, falling free for some two hundred feet. The road, now so narrow that the riders had to pass in single file, slashed back and forth across a nearly vertical rock wall beside the fall. The pavement became mossy and slippery. They dismounted and led their horses upward. In two places the path went behind the fall and the riders looked down toward the mouth of the canyon through a shimmering silver curtain of water.
"This road must have been built by mountain goats," grumbled Elrond, leading his horse up an especially steep switchback. The rocks were green and mossy from the constant mist from the falls, and the horses were skittish and uneasy.
"My people built this road many years ago," said Isildur, "but it follows an even older path that may indeed have been made by the goats. They abounded here of old, but I have seen neither track nor spoor of them today. No doubt the orcs killed them as well."
"Perhaps they merely removed to another place," suggested Cirdan. "Oftimes wild things can sense evil in a place and shirk it thenceforth."
"If so," replied Elrond, "they must have left the Ephel Dúath completely. These mountains reek of evil and a watching malice."
"Aye, 'tis true," said Isildur. "It has a most unwholesome air to it. Yet it was not always so. When first I saw this canyon it was green and hung with ferns. Pines and firs leaned from the cliffs, and the light of the Sirlos danced on the mossy walls."
"I remember," said Elendur. "Aratan and I often rode up here. Once we brought Ciryon, when he was old enough to sit a horse. We climbed on the rocks and threw stones into the stream. I always loved the clean smell of the place and the merry sound of the falls. Now even the voice of Sirlos sounds sad and lonely."
They looked around sadly at the barren walls, the occasional leaning tree, dead and white and broken. No sign of green could be seen anywhere.
"I know not what has made the change," Elendur went on. "Surely the orcs did not scale every precipice and cut or kill the trees, pull out the ferns? To what end?"
"Some of the trees they cut for firewood for their furnaces and factories, no doubt," said Gildor. "Others they wantonly destroy — they seem to take some sort of perverse pleasure in destroying what they cannot use. And wherever they live and build, they poison the land around them. Growing things wither and die; animals sicken or wander away."