Unfinished Tales - J. R. R. Tolkien [166]
So it came to pass that late in the afternoon of the thirtieth day of their journey they were passing the north borders of the Gladden Fields, 13 marching along a path that led to Thranduil’s realm, 14 as it then was. The fair day was waning; above the distant mountains clouds were gathering, reddened by the misty sun as it drew down towards them; the deeps of the valley were already in grey shadow. The Dúnedain were singing, for their day’s march was near its end, and three parts of the long road to Imladris were behind them. To their right the Forest loomed above them at the top of steep slopes running down to their path, below which the descent into the valley-bottom was gentler.
Suddenly as the sun plunged into cloud they heard the hideous cries of Orcs, and saw them issuing from the Forest and moving down the slopes, yelling their war-cries. 15 In the dimmed light their number could only be guessed, but the Dúnedain were plainly many times, even to ten times, outnumbered. Isildur commanded a thangail16 to be drawn up, a shield-wall of two serried ranks that could be bent back at either end if outflanked, until at need it became a closed ring. If the land had been flat or the slope in his favour he would have formed his company into a dírnaith16 and charged the Orcs, hoping by the great strength of the Dúnedain and their weapons to cleave a way through them and scatter them in dismay; but that could not now be done. A shadow of foreboding fell upon his heart.
‘The vengeance of Sauron lives on, though he may be dead,’ he said to Elendur, who stood beside him. ‘There is cunning and design here! We have no hope of help: Moria and Lórien are now far behind, and Thranduil four days’ march ahead.’ ‘And we bear burdens of worth beyond all reckoning,’ said Elendur; for he was in his father’s confidence.
The Orcs were now drawing near. Isildur turned to his esquire: ‘Ohtar,’ 17 he said, ‘I give this now into your keeping’; and he delivered to him the great sheath and the shards of Narsil, Elendil’s sword. ‘Save it from capture by all means that you can find, and at all costs; even at the cost of being held a coward who deserted me. Take your companion with you and flee! Go! I command you!’ Then Ohtar knelt and kissed his hand, and the two young men fled down into the dark valley. 18
If the keen-eyed Orcs marked their flight they took no heed. They halted briefly, preparing their assault. First they let fly a hail of arrows, and then suddenly with a great shout they did as Isildur would have done, and hurled a great mass of their chief warriors down the last slope against the Dúnedain, expecting to break up their shield-wall. But it stood firm. The arrows had been unavailing against the Númenórean armour. The great Men towered above the tallest Orcs, and their swords and spears far outreached the weapons of their enemies. The onslaught faltered, broke, and retreated, leaving the defenders little harmed, unshaken, behind piles of fallen Orcs.
It seemed to Isildur that the enemy was withdrawing towards the Forest. He looked back. The red rim of the sun gleamed out from the clouds as it went down behind the mountains; night would soon be falling. He gave orders to resume the march at once, but to bend their course down towards the lower and flatter ground where the Orcs would have less advantage. 19 Maybe he believed that after their costly repulse they