Emissary by Uvatha the Horseman

Cirith Ungol

Chapter 11 - Cirith Ungol

Urzahil and Dwar left Minas Morgul at first light and headed east. Urzahil rode a chestnut gelding and Dwar rode Enigma, the same black stallion he'd ridden when he'd escorted the delegation from Umbar two Minas Morgul. He was careful not to let the chestnut get too close to the Nazgûl for fear of panicking it, but the horse seemed to tolerate the creature's presence. "We feed and groom the horses from the time they're born. They're used to us," the wraith explained.

Packhorses carried their belongings. No baggage cart could navigate the route they plan to take. As they approached the Nameless Pass, the road became so steep that Urzahil dropped from the saddle and led his mount by the reins. Dwar did the same.

They reached the Pass and kept going. Urzahil had come here once before so he'd be able to say he'd set foot in Mordor, but this time they went through the pass and kept going. It gave him a creepy feeling.

Once inside Mordor, the path descended into a knife-cut crevasse. Urzahil glanced at the broken rock in its depths, and felt sick.

"Let's lead the horses for now. It levels off after a bit, then we can ride. Don't worry about the drop, the horses are more surefooted than we are." Dwar waved a hand towards the crevice on the right.

They edged down the road with tiny steps, their feet slipping on loose gravel which clattered over the edge into the chasm. After they'd descended thirty or forty feet, the path leveled out and became less treacherous underfoot. Dwar put a foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle.

Urzahil tried to do the same, but the girth was loose, the stirrup slipped, and he pitched backwards. His grip on the saddle, and the stability of the horse, were all that prevented him from going over the edge. He stood for a moment with his heart pounding, then untangled himself from the stirrup leather and tried again.

Once he was safely back in the saddle, he squeezed the chestnut to a walk. The surefooted animal walked along at a good pace, more comfortable near the edge than Urzahil was.

"Let's go a little faster. I'd like to come down from the mountains before dark." Dwar was already well ahead of him, and gaining. Urzahil kicked the chestnut to a faster pace. He clamped his eyes shut and jammed his fingers under the edge of the saddle, and wished it were over.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Urzahil stared at the ground with a hand on each knee, laboring for breath. This pass was higher, and the road to it steeper, then any they'd gone through so far.

"This is it, Cirith Ungol." Dwar wasn't winded at all. Urzahil hated him.

Urzahil recovered enough to lift his head. A tower at least three stories high controlled the road. It appeared to be unoccupied.

"There'll be a garrison here someday, but for now, you and I are the only ones here," said Dwar.

Urzahil let his head drop, and continued trying to catch his breath. There was still time to descend from the mountains by nightfall. Soon, the temperatures would start to drop. He knew Dwar wanted to keep moving.

They went forward a little further and rounded the crest. Urzahil stopped in his tracks, stunned. The whole plain of Gorgoroth was laid out before them, dominated by the dormant volcano. A wisp of smoke rose from the cinder cone and disintegrated in the wind.

"What do you see?" said Dwar.

Urzahil let out a low whistle. "The volcano looks like it could spring to life again."

"Not the volcano, behind it."

There was a great pile of rock on the promontory. One side reached the cliff, and some of it had spilled onto the plain below.

"I see what looks like a huge mound of gravel. Several mounds, but the one in the center is highest."

"Look harder," said Dwar.

Urzahil squinted and scanned the promontory, hazy in the distance. There was only broken rock, the same dark-colored basalt as the living rock of the promontory itself. He stared at a section, moved his gaze, and stared again.

"There's a group of white dots, a hundred or more. It looks like a flock of birds." He watched for a few moments. None of them moved.

And then he saw it. A vertical line, the same dark color as the basalt of the promontory, almost invisible against the background of broken rock. The top of the structure went on and on, as flat and level as the horizon at sea, and almost as tall as the mounds of gravel behind it.

Urzahil gasped. "It's a wall, as big as the curtain wall encircling the Haven of Umbar. They're rebuilding the curtain wall surrounding Barad-dûr!"

"No, that's the base of the Tower itself. The curtain wall will be built after the Tower is finished," said Dwar.

Urzahil gasped. If that was the size of its base, it was going to be immense.

"Your flock of birds is a tent city for the workers who are rebuilding the Dark Tower. They're building on top of the original foundations, using whatever stones they can recover from the rubble," said Dwar.

Urzahil tried to make out details of the tent city. That must be where Sauron was now.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A day later, they were following Sauron's road, a causeway from the volcano to the base of the promontory. Huge piles of rock formed huge mounds at the foot of the cliff.

The blocks of stone, which looked like bricks from a distance, were about as high as a man's chest and longer than a man is tall. He couldn't even imagine how they were moved, or lifted and stacked, as the structure was built.

A great section of wall sat among the broken stones, it's blocks of stone still mortared together.

"How did it survive the fall?" asked Urzahil.

"That's a pretty small fragment, considering the original size of the Tower. Only a few pieces were left intact. They tore it to pieces, all but the foundations which were beyond their power to harm."