[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The stones were behind the company and they pressed ahead into the darkness of the Morgul Vale almost with relief at having passed through them. The Road ran almost straight up the gentle rise that lay between the mountains that loomed above them upon either hand. There was no sound but the wind amongst the rocks, and no sight save the bleak grey and black of Mordor. They walked in silence for several hours and the night passed in uncomfortable labour. The Road’s ascent, while gentle, was steady and they had to toil up the long and unrelenting path. As they neared the top of the pass, the mountains on either side came closer, looming over them like walls that rose upon either hand hundreds of feet into the roiling air. Their throats became parched as they breathed in the ashy air of the land, and soon their few remaining water skins were hanging limply from their hands and waists. As they moved forward, the weariness of their limbs seemed to grow and it was as though they had to walk through deep sand, so reluctant were their feet to follow that path they had chosen, for with every step the Dead City got closer, and while it was yet hidden by the mountains, they could feel its presence beating upon their brows.

Throughout the night they crept along the Road with increasing terror at the thought of discovery. At first, there had been rough stone and shattered rock on either side of the way that could have provided cover, but soon the walls of the mountains were so close about them that any hope of hiding was lost. Their ears strained for the sound of foot or hoof, but there had fallen upon the Road an unnatural stillness. Grash’s mind went back to the brief glimpse he had of the Dark Lord’s commands to his slaves, and he knew that all about them were vast armies, all of them hurrying north to the Black Gate. This Road, normally so well traveled and patrolled, seemed to have been neglected – for a time – in the turmoil that gripped the land, and he almost allowed himself to feel lucky.

But luck is a fickle thing, particularly in the life of a slave. They had traveled five leagues and the sun was beginning to rise beyond the shadows, when they came to the top of the pass. It was a sight that none of them had dared hope for: of the way beyond this land. But in place of hope there was only despair, and rather than rejoice, Grash had to stifle an agonizing lament. In the far distance below them, small but yet ghastly, rose Minas Ithil. Its walls glowed with a corpse light that shed no illumination, and even from this distance they could taste the air of its rot upon the backs of their tongues. But it was not this that had plunged Grash’s heart into the depths, for he had been expecting the City. What he had not expected to see was the army, vast and terrible, that marched toward them from the City. Whether it was by some trick of the Vale, or whether the army was cloaked in the magic of its Captain, none of the party had heard the army’s approach, and it was now about a mile distant. It was encamped upon the Road, whether in defense of it or as part of a rest in a longer march, none could tell.

“Where path?” It was Darash who spoke at Grash’s elbow. Grash looked at her stupidly, still reeling from the shock of their danger. “Where path?” she said again.

Grash pointed down the Road to a point in the southern wall of the mountains about midway through the mass of the army. “There,” he said quietly. “Path is there. Goes up into mountains.”

“Well, we won’t get there by looking at it,” Brór growled. This spurred the party into action, and they began moving once more down the Road. They fought the urge to run, for to do so would only call attention to themselves. Their only hope was to trust in their orc disguises. They all adopted the shambling gait of orcs and lowered their heads into their armour, or pulled their tattered cloaks about their faces. They had all spent too much time in close proximity to the orcs and were able to mimic their tormenters easily. The small path was now visible to them all, and it drew them like a magnet, but very quickly they came to within hailing distance of the army.

Just as the outer sentries sighted them and let out a cry, there was a general braying of horns and harsh screams of commanders, and the entire army began to mobilize and move up the slope toward the pass that the company had come through. In the sudden chaos of the orc army’s movement, the company found themselves suddenly surrounded by thousands of the brutes. There were flares of torches and a flurry of limbs and soon the company had been separated from one another in a sea of enemies.