Cirdan sighed. "I see you are not to be dissuaded. And you may be right. Perhaps after all it is only my own fears and not Sauron's power that casts such a shadow over it whenever I look upon it. Were it held by any other I would fear more. But I know you, Isildur, and I have known your fathers and their line for many generations. If I were to choose any Man in the world to guard the Ring and keep it safe, I would choose you. Let us then end this debate."
Isildur smiled again. "It is good. I would not have your mind uneasy about the path I have chosen, nor would I have any discord between us after all we have endured together. Ohtar! Bring more mead. I would ease Lord Cirdan's anxious mind."
They drank and talked together late into the night, but at last Cirdan took his leave to see to the striking of his tents and the loading of his horses. Isildur went to his bed and lay a long time fingering the Ring and pondering Cirdan's words. At last he fell asleep with his hand clasped tightly about the Ring on its golden chain.
The Elves departed the next day but the work at the Barad-dûr continued. Tower after tower was toppled or pulled down stone by stone, but the fortress was so massive that progress was terribly slow. Weeks passed, then months, and still the walls loomed into the sky. The men grew restless and clamored to be allowed to return to their homes. All were sick of the fetid plains where they had suffered for so long, but Isildur would not be swayed. Summer faded into autumn and the grumbling increased. At last Isildur relented and allowed the men of Arnor to return home before the onset of winter closed the high passes over the mountains. A few weeks later he sent the men of Ithilien to Minas Ithil so that the Galadrim might return to their Golden Wood. The others stayed on, many voluntarily pitching in beside the orcs to hurry the work along. Gradually, tier by tier, the walls came down.
Then in early spring, when the last sections of wall were being dismantled, the toiling orcs uncovered a foundation of hard black rock, without joints of any kind. No tool would bite on it. Soon it became clear that the entire fortress was built on a monolithic stone as hard as diamond. How Sauron had caused it to be worked and shaped none could discover. Isildur's engineers studied it and dulled their tools upon it. Miners drove shafts down its side but could find no bottom. Eventually the entire site was cleared and the last massive blocks were dragged with immense labor to the edge and toppled over into the abyss. The Barad-dûr, the mightiest fortress ever built, for millennia a symbol of Sauron's invincible might, was reduced in the end to a single gleaming platform of featureless stone. At last even Isildur realized that no more could be done. He had all the prisoners assembled and addressed them one last time.
"The Barad-dûr has followed its master into oblivion," he said. "You who once followed him are absolved and pardoned by this deed. Your task here is finished. You are free to go. But know you this, and let it never be forgotten: the Dúnedain again guard the mountain passes. We hold Cirith Ungol and the Morannon and the Rath Romen. The mountains and all the lands to the north and west are forbidden to all who served Sauron. We are watchful and alert, and our blades well remember the taste of orc flesh. Go now in peace and leave the lands of Men and Elves forever."
Then the black host turned and fled with many a backward glance and curse. Isildur watched them go, then turned to address his men. Looking out over them, he saw weariness in every face.
"Good Men of the West," he cried. "For eight years we have labored in this place. Your deeds will be remembered while our race endures. Now our work here is done. Let yonder slab stand forever as a monument to those who died here, and as a reminder to all the world of what happened here. Let it never be forgotten that evil so nearly triumphed here, so that our guard shall never weaken and never again shall we be taken by surprise in the night.
"But our labors are not finished. Ithilien and Minas Ithil must be cleansed of Sauron's poisons, and Osgiliath rebuilt even fairer than before. And the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor shall grow in power and beauty until they rival even bright Númenor that went before. But our first task is a joyous one: let us go home!" Then every throat cried out and the plains of Gorgoroth rang with joy for the first time.
The King's Army returned in triumph to Osgiliath in high summer of the year one of the Third Age. The streets were lined with cheering throngs. Isildur found to his pleasure that the rebuilding of the city had already begun. The eastern half of the city had been cleaned and repaired and the buildings were freshly scrubbed and whitewashed so they gleamed in the sun. Many of the residents had returned to their homes, but other houses still stood dark and empty. The army crossed the Great Bridge and rode through the high arch of the Arannon. Already the massive wooden doors had been removed and it was again a triumphal arch.
Isildur led his men into the great square and took his place on the steps of his palace as the men formed up in their companies. The grateful residents of the city cheered them. The crowds surged as the citizens of each province tried to get close to their warriors. The men stood proudly at attention, but here and there a man dared a wave to a friend in the crowd. Isildur gave a brief speech of thanks and farewell, but knew better than to draw out the ceremony. When the men were dismissed they looked on one another with emotions that could not be spoken. Then each turned and went to his own home. Those from Osgiliath returned to the houses from which they had fled the night of that first terrifying attack and found their families living there again. It was almost as if the intervening years had not occurred, save that children too young to go to war were now grown and hard at work building new houses or tilling again the green fields of Ithilien.
When he entered the palace, Isildur was overjoyed to see two tall young men coming forth to greet him, their faces wreathed in smiles. "Aratan! Ciryon!" he shouted. "I did not know you were here!" He rushed forward and embraced his sons, while Elendur happily waited his turn.
"Ari!" Elendur said with mock severity. "Have you left your post unguarded?"
"No, elder brother. Annúminas is in safe hands. But when word at last reached us of your victory, I turned its rule over to Thinros and rode here as quickly as I could. I have been here over a month."
"Thinros is guardian of Annúminas?" asked Isildur in surprise. "But he is only a boy."
Aratan laughed. "It is long since you left, father. He is a man of thirty, a seasoned warrior and a father of three. Long was he in command of the southern marches of the realm and he drove back several orc raiding parties."
"I see all has not been quiet at home," said Isildur gravely.
"Oh, there has been no trouble at all for nearly a year. I think the orcs lost all their will to fight when they learned of Sauron's fall. The last time we saw any was when one of our patrols spotted a party trying to get over the high pass of the mountains. And they were going east, trying to escape from Arnor. I think they will not trouble us again."