"No," he said. "No, I believe you may have come in time. Welcome, my Lords," he said to the Elves. Then Gil-galad, still on foot, came up to them. He gripped Cirdan's hands in his.
"Well met, my friends," he said. "We are most glad to see you. I believe you have turned the tide of the battle."
They stood there, a momentary island of calm in the midst of violent struggle, and looked out over the battle. All around them the knights of Umbar and Lindon and Arnor and Gondor were fighting fiercely, giving blow for blow, though it was the Umbardrim now being slowly driven back. Still, the balance was nearly even.
In the valley below, however, it was a different story. The orcs, seeing Isildur's army continuing to pour down upon them, broke and fled, many throwing down their weapons for greater speed. The Army of the Alliance, though terribly reduced, took heart and redoubled their efforts, beating their foes back and giving themselves room to breathe. Isildur's men galloped to their aid, sweeping all before them. The orcs fell into complete confusion, running about in terror. The Kings sat and watched as their warriors attacked the last pockets of organized resistance.
Yet even as their hearts soared with joy, a darkness fell upon them. Sounds became muted, the very light of the sun seemed to dim. Warriors looked about in confusion and dismay. Suddenly the battle, the whole war, seemed hopeless, all their sufferings futile. The light faded from their eyes, the smiles from their lips. Isildur felt his shoulders sag, as if all his weariness were overcoming him at last. He knew it at once, for he had felt it at the battle for the Morannon so many years ago.
"Do you feel it?" shouted Gil-galad. "It is Sauron. It is his Shadow. He is near."
"Fight on," called Isildur to his captains. "It is Sauron's Shadow. You must fight on. We shall deal with Sauron."
But even as he said it, he felt a wave of hopelessness sweep over him. Deal with Sauron? How could they possibly stand against someone so powerful that his mere presence sent fear knifing through the bravest heart?
"Now, my Lords," said Gil-galad, "we are come to the final conflict of all. This is the hour of reckoning. Now we must wield all the powers at our command." He looked at Elrond and Cirdan. "Have you brought the Three? Where is Galadriel?"
Cirdan shook his head. "We were unable to destroy the Ring-wraiths, my king. Galadriel and Celeborn remained at Minas Ithil to try to contain them there. She has Nenya with her."
The news seemed to crush Gil-galad's spirit. His face sagged and went ashen. "The Three are not here? We go to do battle with Sauron himself and the Three are not here? How can we hope to dispel his Shadow without them?" The others only looked at him, unable to reply.
Seeing his face, his friends were stricken with the sense that all hope had gone. Despair beat at them like black wings about their heads. Elrond struggled against it, knowing it for the fear he had felt near the Úlairi, only much, much stronger.
"Cirdan still has Narya," he said, "and I have brought Vilya for you, Sire." They seemed but small words, hollow and weightless against the crushing despair. The others stared at him hopelessly. But then he withdrew the great blue ring and held it up gleaming in the light. And somehow, seeing it shining there in the gloom gave them all hope. They looked at each other in wonder.
"Surely," said Gildor, "with such weapons we can defeat even Sauron."
But Gil-galad shook his head. "Remember, they are not weapons at all," he said. "They cannot be used to attack him. But the Three together might have been enough at least to dispel his Shadow and allow us to see him more clearly. But with two only…" His voice trailed off.
"Would that we knew what their effect will be," said Cirdan. "It is thought that he has some mystic link with them, that they will draw Sauron to them. But it is also possible that their use could give him some power over us. But we just don't know."
Gil-galad stood leaning on his spear, looking at Vilya in Elrond's hand. "Long have I loved that bright shining thing," he said, "And yet for some reason I feel reluctant to don it now." He stepped back as if with an effort.
"No, on reflection I believe I shall not bear Vilya into this conflict."
They all looked at him in surprise. "Is that wise, my king?" asked Elrond. "I bore it through great peril so you would have it here at the final conflict. You are its rightful master, and on your hand its strength is greatest."
Gil-galad patted the heavy ebony handle of his spear. "Aeglos here has always served me well. I will fight with the weapon I know."
"But it could at least help guard you, Sire," pleaded Elrond, holding out the ring to him. "My mind would be easier if I knew you had its strength with you."
"Hear him, Sire," said Gildor. "Let the Ring provide what protection it can."
The old Elf-king shook his head, his long grey hair swaying beneath his helm. "No. Throughout this war Elendil and I have fought side by side on equal terms, sharing the labors and dangers equally. But the Three were wrought for Elvish hands and they would not serve a Man. Since Elendil has no Ring to protect him, I too shall face Sauron with only what courage I can summon. And Elendil and I have our enchanted weapons, in which I place my greatest faith.
"Elrond, you and Cirdan do not have such weapons, but he will have his Narya. It is for you I fear, my old friend. Keep Vilya for me a little longer. Perhaps it will spare your life this day. For myself, I will trust to Aeglos here. It has never failed me yet."
"But Sire," protested Elrond. "Vilya is yours. If it may indeed spare its bearer's life, I would have it on your hand, not mine."
"Yes," agreed Cirdan. "Will you not reconsider, my King? You will need all the strength and courage you can muster to fight Sauron. Why will you not take Vilya?"
"Strength and courage I will indeed need," Gil-galad replied. "But Vilya does not provide either. Any of us Elves can wear it to help dispel the Shadow. But wearing it also reveals its bearer more clearly to Sauron. Perhaps if I face Sauron without it, he will find me more difficult to fight."
"But Sire," said Elrond. "Surely it…" But Gil-galad was already turning away, his eyes searching the battlefield.
"No, I will face him with Aeglos alone," he called over his shoulder. "Wear Narya yourself, Shipmaster, and let Elrond wear Vilya. Elendil and Isildur and I will do the fighting, if it is possible against this Shadow. You must use your Rings' strength against it. Gildor, I put you in charge of the Elvish forces."
"As you, Elendur," said Elendil, "shall command the armies of Men. Your father and I have duties that lie elsewhere. We have some debts to repay to Sauron."
"But before we can fight him," said Gil-galad, "we must find him. We must find the source of the Shadow."
He caught a riderless horse and swung onto its back. "Come," he called to the others. "This way. Do you feel it? He is this way."
He veered off to the right, toward the lava flow that blocked the northern end of the valley. The others lords followed, slanting up across the slope. Looking beyond Gil-galad, Isildur saw the advancing wave of Gondorrim troops falter. Horses screamed and reared, riders toppling from their backs. He realized he was having trouble seeing the men clearly, though whether it was due to the growing panic in his chest or to some disturbance in the air, he could not be sure. But the smoke and murk definitely seemed thicker in that direction.
His horse faltered, shied, and stopped, trembling. He urged it forward, but it was no use. Fleetfoot had a great heart and had never shirked a battle, but he could not abide the Shadow. Not far ahead, Gil-galad was also having trouble with his new mount. He threw his leg over and dropped to the ground, still carrying his Aeglos. "Leave your horses," he shouted, his voice strangely distant. "They feel the Shadow too. We must go on foot."