On the eleventh day of the siege the walls of Dol Guldur lay shattered and rent. Here and there great breaches gaped; through every gap the hosts could see the teeming black things within. The catapults fell silent and were drawn back, to be replaced by thirty great siege-towers and a single mighty battering-ram.
Horn-calls echoed. From all sides the allied host,an endless sea of banners and mail,rolled forward, led by eight crowns and countless captains, each a name of old. They cast one another a grave look and then moved as a single will.
Kaen gave the word: "Siege-towers and ram—advance! Archers, lay down covering fire: five volleys and keep the engines safe. Forward!"
The blast of the attack sounded. Siege-towers lumbered, the ram swung like iron thunder. The battle-line changed; more than ten thousand archers stood and bent their bows. At the command the air filled with shafts—an iron rain poured upon the broken battlements of Dol Guldur.
Upon the crumbling walls the Orcs cowered; some crouched behind hastily set shields, others tried to return fire, yet the arrowstorm pinned them down. Under that cover the towers and the ram crept close to the gate. At that range the Orcish catapults could do little.
"Hold! Fools, hold your rank!" cried the commanders atop the wall. "Shoot! Use the Spears!stop them,Don't let them breach!"
Orcs streamed to the parapets and strove to man the walls, but the ruins could bear neither their numbers nor their weight. When finally the towers reached the gate, Kaen drew his sword and shouted: "All advance…now!"
"Kill!"
That charge was not merely a cavalry action—the elven,dwarven and human riders dismounted and surged. The whole host poured itself against the battered bulwarks of Dol Guldur. Kaen climbed upon one of the siege-towers with five hundred of his King's Guard. As the iron port fell, he flung a flash of light and led the Guard straight into the breach to hew a path.
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More and more men streamed up the siege-towers onto the wall. Galadriel glittered at the fore, sword in hand, fighting side by side with Celeborn. Thranduil, Elrond, Thorin, Bard, and the rest surged through the gate with tens of thousands behind them. At sight of the Ringwraiths some charged in single combat, seeking to meet them blade to shade.
Legolas and the twin sons of Elrond—Elladan and Elrohir—danced their fierce weave across the battlements. Their arrows became reapers; wherever they leapt upon the parapet they left death in the Orc ranks.
Crash! The broken gate, struck again and again, gave way at last.
"Kill!" cried the captains: Caden, Zakri, Cathril,Lairon, Mundar, Reger, Sigilion, Tauriel,Yenagath, with the twelve Dwarves who had once marched on the Lonely Mountain and the champions of many realms. All clashed into the foe. The Orcs, trolls, wargs, and war-beasts could not stay that flood.
The allied host poured into Dol Guldur as a rushing wave, and from the street to the sacked hall the clash became fierce and close—less a grand battle than a hundred small slaughterings. Shouts rose and steel sang:
"For Eowenría!"
"For Elves and Men!"
"Sons of Durin, stand fast!"
The tide went one way. Kaen raised his blade to lead another charge when a shadow flashed before him and a terrible voice hissed:
"Kaen Eowenríel,this day you face me!"
There, amid the ruins and the smoke, stood the Witch-king of Angmar. He exhaled an aura of dread; his ancient sword exuded foul vapor as he pointed it toward Kaen and spoke in a voice like rusted iron.
"He is alive again already," Kaen said, a short laugh of bitter iron in it. "So Sauron indeed walks within the walls."
Light gathered about Kaen; he struck first. The two met upon the parapet in a clash that rent nearby masonry as their weapons met and rang. Though the Witch-king had been exalted—raised almost to the rank of Myth by the dark endowments he had received—he had not been granted the full might of that apotheosis. Even with the residue of Morgoth's power upon him, some restraint bound him.
Kaen, girded with his own sovereign radiance, met him blow for blow. They fought from the battlements into the tumbling debris beneath, a duel of light and shadow that lasted many hours. Up and down the ruined streets their blades whirled; sparks flew; buildings fell under the shock of wonderous impact. The whole citadel trembled with the roar of battle.
Then, as they fought, a new pressure came upon the field—an oppressing weight that made the hearts of all but the most epic slow and their limbs heavy. Only those of epic or higher rank could keep speed and wit. Kaen felt it like a cold hand upon his breast—a sense of death, keen and intimate.
With a great cry he flared his light in answer. A blinding wave burst from him and swept the ruin in a white hurricane. In that moment he and the Witch-king drew apart.
From the shattered mound of stone and ruin rose a scarlet brilliance,as if the earth itself were opening,an infernal glow that carried doom. Kaen's gaze fixed upon that little stone hill, and he shouted in wrath:
"Sauron! Coward in the dark! Face me if you dare!"
The King's Guard formed quickly about their king, closing each one as a shield. They watched the Witch-king with wary eyes. About the dark lord there gathered Orcs and monsters, a throng that bristled and reared.
From the castle on that stone mound there came a voice…low, terrible, and commanding.
"Kaen Eowenríel, one beyond destiny—how you surprise me!"
A malice unlike any before uncoiled; a tide of Dark power swelled and took shape. Within it, flickering like flame, a figure walked forth—scarlet-rimmed, dreadful, and vast in presence. Its pressure was beyond what common Maiar could assume: this was not merely a fallen spirit, but the fallen Vala's closest servant—the Dark Lord himself.
Sauron.
At the sight of him the very course of the battle paused. Men, Elves, Dwarves—nearly all eyes turned. Thranduil, Galadriel, and Elrond were first to hasten; the rest grappled still with the Ringwraiths and the hounds of shadow. Battle-cries faltered in many throats as this new terror strode forward.
Sauron's cold voice dripped scorn. "Galadriel. Elrond. And you, Glorfindel of the West—how long it has been." He named them in the old tongues as if to remind them of the ages of conflict they had shared. For they,these great ones,had met and opposed his will across many ages; their hatred and vigilance were old as memory.
His might was terrible and pressing; in that presence most staggered and could only parry. He mocked them: "How kind of you to bring all three Elven Rings to the field. You do me honor." He spat the words like ash. "Do you think such trinkets can stand against me? You bring lights and trifles to a war of gods?"
Kaen's reply was a thrown down laugh. Light burned outward from his person and he flung it like a spear toward Sauron. Galadriel, Elrond and Gandalf raised the Three—blue, green, and red—and the glimmer of their power flared, joining Kaen's gold and silver into a five-fold holy radiance that rolled like a tide upon the dark lord.
Dark and light crashed; the field groaned under the weight. Yet those arts alone were not enough. In the old tales, it was by Galadriel's dint that Sauron had once been forced from Dol Guldur, aided by the light of Eärendil; even so, the might required was grave.
Sauron sneered. "Do you think this is sufficient?"
At the very instant he gathered his will to strike down those who dared assemble against him, a softer and yet certain voice sounded across the tumult.
"Long time no see, you servant of Morgoth. You appear well pleased with yourself."