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-dur 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-dur, 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-dur 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 Dunedain 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 Numenor 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. Annuminas 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 Annuminas?' 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.'
'And Ciri!' said Isildur, turning to his third son. 'How you have grown. When I left you were but a boy still in kilts. And look at you now. Why, you have a beard!'
'That's not a beard,' laughed Aratan, punching his brother's shoulder. 'He forgot to wash his face this morning.' Ciryon looked grieved, but then laughed. 'It is a better growth than that line of fuzz on Valandil's lip.'
'By Eru!' exclaimed Isildur. 'I still think of him as a babe of two, bouncing and laughing on my knee.'
'Vali is twelve now, father, and his sling is a terror to all the squirrels and rabbits in Rivendell.'
They laughed and stood looking at each other in wonder. Finally Ciryon said quietly, 'It is good to see you again, father.'
'How I wish your grandfather were here to see how you have grown,' said Isildur, standing back and looking at his sons together. Their smiles faded.
'It was a terrible price to pay for the victory,' said Aratan. 'The news of Sauron's fall and grandfather's came together, and we knew not whether to cheer or weep.'
'We should cheer,' said Isildur. 'He died bravely, in battle against his greatest enemy. If he knew that Sauron was destroyed as well, he would have gone to his long sleep with joy. Nevertheless, I miss him terribly. He had reigned so long that somehow I thought he would always be there. I find kingship more of a burden than I had expected, especially since the Elves departed. I could always look to them for wise advice.
'But now tell me, how is your mother? Is she here as well?'
Aratan's face fell. 'No. She remained at Rivendell with Valandil. She said she was not up to the journey. She has never been well, you know, since the flight north. It seems she is always sitting silently in some quiet corner, thinking.'
Isildur nodded. 'She is mourning for her home in Minas Ithil. She loved it so. It nearly killed her to think of orcs living in our palace, destroying her lovely gardens. But now they are gone. I mean to restore it all just as it was.'
'Do you think to bring her and Vali back, then?' asked Ciryon.
Isildur shook his head. 'I think not. I have given it a great deal of thought these last few months. With your uncle Anarion gone, Meneldil has ruled here in Osgiliath. He has ruled well and he is loved by the people here. He has fought long and well for Gondor, and it is meet that he should be its king. I have it in mind that when our work here is done, we shall go to Annuminas. Now that the roads are safe again, we shall go to Rivendell and fetch your
