Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

To the Gates of Mordor

"Well, here we are," murmured Hermione, looking up with a look of mingled wonder and despair. "The Gates of Mordor---the Black Gates, as ever were." She shook her head. "They couldn't be any more tightly closed if they were welded shut!"

As Gollum had promised, rather to Ron's surprise, they had penetrated to within sight of the Black Gate. It had originally been a pass between the two mountain ranges that guarded Mordor, the Ephel Duath to the east and the Ered Lithui to the north. However, it was far from a simple pass any more; the Gondorian-built castles on either side of the pass were now held by the Dark Lord, and there was a huge wall across the pass, with a mighty gate set in it.

"You know, there's something missing here." Draco cocked his head on one side, in a considering way. Ron and the others stared at him. He looked at the Gate appraisingly, as though it was something he was being offered in Diagon Alley but wasn't sure he wanted to buy. Somehow, even in battered, filthy clothes, with grime smearing him, he still managed to be elegant.

"Okay, Mister Clever. Just what's missing? They don't have the sort of high technology Muggles use in our homeworld, but between those fortresses, that big gate, and those orc-holes I can see on either side, I don't think anybody could get through that gate with anything I've seen here!" Harry looked at the gate, and shook his head in rueful admiration. "I've got to say---it's an impressive fortification."

"What it needs, Mister Under-Educated, is an inscription over the door." Draco quirked a grin. "And no, I don't think the inscription should read 'No Hawkers, No Missionaries.'" Hermione giggled, startling Ron and herself alike.

"Okay, you've got our attention, Draco," sighed Harry, in tones of martyrdom. "What inscription would you suggest?" He looked theatrically put-upon, but Ron thought that Harry was kidding on the square---he'd been worried for his friend for quite some time.

"The same one Dante Aligheri said was on the great Gates of Hell, in the Inferno," answered Draco. At their questioning looks, he straightened, ran a hand through his blonde hair, and recited:

"Through me is the way to the city of pain,

Through me is the way to eternal woe,

Through me is the way to the forgotten world.

Abandon all hope, you who enter here."

"Thank you, Draco Malfoy, for that lovely thought," drawled Hermione, "but, cheery as it is, it doesn't help us figure out what to do here, does it? I mean, we don't exactly have Virgil to guide us---and Smeagol, here, is not quite the same, somehow." Hearing his name, Gollum came up, fawning over Hermione like a dog desperate for a pat. She shot Ron a martyred look, and when he grinned at her discomfiture, she stuck out her tongue.

"Well, if we can't get in here, we'll have to get in somewhere else," mused Harry. "And, come to it, Smeagol---you've been in and out of Mordor, and I doubt you came this way. How did you get out last time?"

Before Gollum could answer, they heard horns blowing from the gate. Instinctively, they ducked for cover, peering out toward the Black Gate. Ron had had a moment's wild hope, but this was not the army of the West, coming to challenge Sauron. "Those aren't Gondorian horn-calls," murmured Hermione. "Those sound more like signals of greeting."

Ron could see that the approaching army was being greeted as friends by the holders of the Gate. As he watched, the gates were opened, and an endless-looking army in unfamiliar armor, flying flags that Ron had never seen before, marched on in. Ron shook his head at their sheer numbers. He had never in all his life seen such a force of soldiers, and he knew this was a small part of the might of the Dark Lord. And we are challenging him, he thought in one small part of his mind. We must be absolutely mad!

When the last soldiers had passed, Harry bent his gaze on Gollum, who quailed under his regard. "As I said, I am going into Mordor, one way or another, Smeagol. If you know another way, tell me about it. Otherwise---I'll do what I have to do."

"No!" squealed Gollum. "Mustn't go to the Gate! He'll get it that way, he'll eat the whole world! Go away! Give it to Smeagol, give it to us!" Harry shook his head slowly.

"You will never hold it again, Smeagol. I am going into Mordor. You can show me the way, or I will find one myself." Harry grinned suddenly, without a trace of mirth. "I will go into Mordor, and if you won't show me the way, I'll go up and knock on the Gate right now!"

At this, Gollum's will broke, at least on the surface. Ron watched him carefully; he remembered the debate between Gollum's good and evil sides, and didn't think that the long-buried "Smeagol" side was dominant. About the only thing that "Smeagol" and "Gollum" agreed on, though, was that the Enemy should not have the Ring. As long as helping Harry and his friends kept the Ring out of Sauron's hands, Ron concluded that Gollum would work with them.

"Yesss, we knows another way, we knows another way that was there yearses ago," muttered Gollum, not daring to look up at Harry, who stood over him grimly. "Let's us go and see if that way's still there!"

"Very well, Smeagol," said Harry. "Remember your promise, though---and remember what I've said. You will never, never get It back. If I have to, I'll put It on, and if I do that, you will do what I say, no matter what that is. Even if I tell you to throw yourself into a fire, or off a cliff, you'll no more be able to disobey than you can grow wings and fly!"

Draco and Hermione looked at Harry with as much amazement as Ron himself felt. Ron had always thought that Harry concealed a good deal of steel beneath his unassuming exterior, and this merely was the final confirmation of that suspicion. After all, without a core of solid tool-steel hardness, he'd have been so broken by the Dursleys' mistreatment that even Hogwarts wouldn't have helped him much. Gollum, thought Ron, had had better excuses for being mistaken about Harry Potter. For that matter, if Voldemort had been there at that moment, Ron thought that even he might have quailed at the thought of crossing swords with Harry.

Gollum squeaked in terror, and cringed, begging for mercy. He grovelled at Harry's feet, begging Harry to be kind to "poor little Smeagol." Ron watched closely, and thought, with a stab of fear, that Harry looked like he was enjoying the situation. The old Harry Potter would never have revelled in such abasement on the part of anybody; the new one seemed to be, on some level below consciousness, to not only be relishing every whine and whimper, but to revel in it and accept it as his natural due. It reminded Ron, uncomfortably, of the old, bad Draco Malfoy at his most unpleasantly arrogant.

When Gollum had finally been calmed, Ron asked: "So where is this other way into Mordor? Do we have to go all the way to the Harad countries, and go around the mountains, and come in from the east?" He shuddered at the thought.

"That would make sense, but we're already a bit short of food, and I don't know how easy it would be to stock up." answered Hermione. "When I was in Rivendell, I was looking at maps, and most of that country is desert, or the next thing to it. Also, it's pretty firmly in the clutches of the Enemy." She shook her head firmly. "That's an absolute last resort. We don't want to go there, do we, Smeagol?"

"O no, O no, pretty girl," crooned Gollum, happy to be getting attention from Hermione. "The road goes west, west it goes from Ephel Duath. When you gets to a crossing, in a circle of dark treeses, there is a crossroads. Go to the right, and you comes to Osgiliath. Go straight ahead, and you goes to the South, south to the Great Water. The Great Water is never, never still, and has fishes in it, nice fishes, and birdses eats them, but we never saw it, O no, never got a chance."

"Very well, what of the left-hand path?" asked Draco. He quirked an eyebrow up, and hooked his thumbs in the belt-loops of his leather trousers. "We don't want to go to the sea, or to Osgiliath---do we, Hermione?" Hermione shook her head abstractedly.

"O yes, the left-hand path," whispered Gollum, fear shining from his huge lambent eyes. "The left-hand path goes back up into the black mountains, up up up it goes. It turns around the black rock, and suddenly you see it above you, and you wants to hide."

"What do you see?" Hermione's voice held an edge of exasperation, and Ron had to sympathize; getting facts out of Gollum was like herding cats sometimes. Gollum shook his head violently.

"The old city. Very old, very horrible. It was built long ago, long long ago, yess, we heard tales long long ago. Long ago, it was the Tower of the Moon, and there was a great stone there like the Moon." Gollum cowered slightly. "Very beautiful, it was, with its white walls."

"Okay, we're getting somewhere. That would be Minas Ithil. Isildur built it, after he defeated the Enemy and cut off the finger that held the Ring." Hermione pulled out her map. "I see it---it's marked right here."

Gollum shuddered. "Yess. He has only four on the Black Hand, but four are enough! He hated Isildur's city." Ron thought of actually meeting Sauron, and felt a wave of pity for Gollum, and of awe for his toughness. The Balrog had been terrifying, and from what he had learned, Sauron was far greater than even the Balrog. He looked into Draco Malfoy's eyes, and saw understanding there.

"I think some of my contempt's been misplaced, Weasel," murmured Draco. "I thought he was just a snivelling little wretch, but if Sauron's one-twentieth as bad as everybody says he is---he apparently makes Lord Voldemort look like a little old lady--- meeting him would break almost anybody." Ron nodded, keeping most of his attention on the interrogation of Gollum.

"He hates everything---this isn't news," sighed Hermione. "But what does the Tower of the Moon have to do with anything? Isn't it garrisoned?" Gollum nodded eagerly.

"O yes, O yes, it has many people there. His people. He conquered it long long ago, and now it is very terrible, O yes it is." Harry shook his head in exasperation.

: "Okay, let's see if I've got this absolutely straight. Let's see if I understand what you're saying. We can go a long way out of our way, and at the end of the road, run up against just the same sort of trouble we've got here?" He gave Gollum a terrible stare, and the creature quailed, crouching low and shielding his eyes.

"No! No! The Enemy is not expecting attack from that direction. Right now He is watching to the north, expecting an attack from there. He expects a big army, not four wizards."

"You seem to know a lot about what He is thinking." drawled Draco reflectively, tilting his head over slightly as he watched Gollum. "How do you know? Talking with Him? Or hanging around with Orcs?" Gollum gave Draco an angry look.

"Smeagol has talked with Orcs, O yes, and with many other peoples. He has walked very very far, in many places, before he met nice master and pretty girl," hissed Gollum. "What Smeagol says, he has heard in many many places. Right now He is worried about armies. He will come out of the Black Gate, one day, soon. Off by the Tower of the Moon, he is not afraid, because he thinks that any attack would have to have boatses, many boatses, and he would have warning. There are also the Silent Watchers."

"And what are the Silent Watchers?" Ron asked, wishing bitterly for Professor Snape to show up with a big jug of Veritaserum. What am I thinking, he suddenly thought---wanting Professor Snape to show up? Am I mad? Still, the thought of how much easier it would be to get the facts they wanted out of this creature with a dose of Veritaserum wouldn't leave him alone. It would be so easy, so easy, compared to trying to get Gollum to talk without it...

"No, master and pretty girl and their friends mustn't go to the terrible city," continued Gollum, giving Ron an annoyed look. "There is another path, one on the way to the city. We found it, we knows it. A little path, leading up into the mountains, and then a stair, a narrow stair. O yes, very long, long and narrow. Finally, a little cleft, and a pass high above the main pass. That's how we got out of the darkness, many many years ago. The path may not be there still."

"And, if it is, wouldn't it be guarded? This sounds like a trap to me," drawled Draco. At that, Ron caught a green gleam in Gollum's eyes that he didn't like. "I mean, I certainly would know about such a path, were I in the Enemy's boots---"

"The gods forbid," murmured Hermione.

"---And if I were, I'd have that path watched all the time. What about it, Smeagol? Did you escape---or were you let go? Did the Enemy let you go, on an errand for him? That's what Aragorn thought, when he found you by the Dead Marshes, long ago."

"It's a lie!" snarled Gollum, a green light coming into his eyes at the mention of Aragorn. "He lied on me, yes he did. I was told, told to search for the Precious, and I did---but not for Him! The Precious was ours---mine! I did escape!"

Ron didn't quite know what to make of this. On the one hand, when Gollum used I instead of we to refer to himself, it seemed to be a sign that some of the creature's original Smeagol-nature was near the surface. On the other hand, even if Gollum himself believed that he had escaped on his own, the escape could well have been allowed to happen, and been perfectly well-known to Sauron and his minions. Gollum, after all, was a long way from infallible. And now he was whining; the mention of Aragorn's name had apparently offended him. Ron sighed.

"Isn't it guarded?" persisted Draco. Gollum whined, and acted indignant, and would not answer. Hermione looked up from her map.

"I think I've spotted what he's talking about. It's called Cirith Ungol---Spider Pass. I have no idea what that refers to. Still, it looks like that's the only way we can get into Mordor, at least according to my maps. I wish to the gods that Gandalf were here!"

Ron silently echoed Hermione's wish. If Gandalf had been there, he might have been able to spot Boromir's lust for the Ring before it got control of him, and either prevented him from trying to take it, or shown him why it was a bad idea. If Gandalf had been there, Ron thought he would have known a better way into Mordor, without having to trust a creature like Gollum. Looking at his friends---yes, even Draco Malfoy was now a firm friend---Ron could see that they shared his wish. Gandalf had been taken from them too soon, on a fool's errand into Khazad-Dum.

Ron looked longest at Harry. Harry showed the strain of their long travel and peril most, which made sense to Ron, since Harry was the one with the responsibility of being Ringbearer. Behind his glasses, Harry's green eyes glittered in his smudged, dirty face as he rubbed his chin absently, thinking. His hair was longer than Ron had ever seen it, and for a second, the thought of his mother's reaction at the way Harry now looked nearly forced a chuckle from him. Of course, his mother would have been aghast over all of them, as thin, drawn and dirty as they were. Imagining Draco Malfoy's embarassment at being made a fuss of by his mother was another amusing thought, which gratified Ron; amusing thoughts were rare here on the borderlands of Mordor.

"Well, let's head on south and see what there is there. At seventh and last, we may even be able to mountaineer our way over these cliffs and get into Mordor that way," decided Harry. "Draco---do you think these mountains are climbable?"

The others deferred to Draco, who, they knew, had far more experience with such things. Draco looked up, consideringly. For several minutes, he studied the mountains, before shaking his head.

"Not here, I don't think. The climb itself would be do-able, with the right sort of equipment. Unfortunately, all we've got is ropes and duct tape. I'd want more serious stuff---crampons, ice-axes, and the like. However, right here would be suicide, because these mountains are so heavily watched. Down by Cirith Ungol, if we can't get through on this passageway that our dear little friend here has so kindly told us of---" Draco paused to give Gollum a sardonic smile, which the creature misinterpreted as friendly and returned with a snaggle-toothed grin that made Ron slightly queasy---"we can at least look at the hills.

"So that settles that, then," said Harry. "We'll head south and at least have a look at this Cirith Ungol."

Suddenly, Ron felt a rush of fear, and looking at his friends, he could see that they felt the same way. Crouching on the ground under his elven-cloak, Ron peered up cautiously into the sky, looking for the source of his terror. Far, far up in the sky, he could see something flying, something that looked to be huge and very far away. As he watched, another thing like it joined the first one, and then another.

Harry yanked out the Invisibility Cloak, and spread it out as far as it would go. "Get in, get under here!" It was crowded under the Cloak, but Ron found it comforting to be so near his friends; the blast of fear that the Black Riders inspired was enough to strip him of much of his adolescent cool and turn him back into a little boy, huddling with his brothers against imaginary dementors in the closet, late at night.

Gollum couldn't figure out where they had gone; he squeaked and hissed, scampering about, sniffing the ground to see where they had gone, until the fear smote him too. Looking up, he gave one long wailing gasp, and fell flat on the ground, lying very still.

Finally, the winged shapes flew back into Mordor, and the fear subsided. When Ron and his friends came out from under the Invisibility Cloak, Gollum was startled at first, and then surprisingly happy. He capered about, all but wagging his tail. "Ach, sss, nice masster and pretty girl---and their friendses---are back, back they are! Where did nice masster go?" he asked. Harry merely grinned at him, rolling up the Cloak unobtrusively.

"We've got more tricks up our sleeves than you ever heard of , Smeagol," said Harry. "You might want to keep that in mind, if you ever start thinking about pulling a fast one. What you've seen is a tiny fraction of what we're able to do."

"He's right, you know," leered Draco. "Don't you think he'd be comfortable on his very own lily pad?" he asked Ron. "Or, maybe, with a pair of big long ears, hippity-hopping through the grass, with not a care in the world?"

Gollum looked from one of them to the other, and what he saw didn't much reassure him. He whimpered, and Hermione took pity on him. "Oh, leave him alone, you---you men! He hasn't done anything too bad to us---yet."

A blare of trumpets and horns from the Gate startled all of them, and they ducked instinctively, hands going for wands and sword-hilts. "What in bloody blue blazes was that?" gasped Ron, feeling his heart thundering in his chest. Being so close to the main gates of Mordor had told badly on his nerves, and he saw that his friends were in little better shape.

Draco cautiously got up to the top of the hill they were hiding behind, and took a look. "Soldiers, going into Mordor. Lots and lots and lots of soldiers. They look like they're from the southlands. Dark, wearing lots of red clothes. Some of them even have red face-paint on."

"Let me see," said Hermione. She wriggled up beside Draco, the hood of her elven-cloak pulled up to make her harder to see. She whistled, low and long. "You're right, Draco. Those symbols say that they're from far south of here, deep in the Harad. I can't tell more than that, though---the Rivendell library wasn't well-stocked with books on that part of Middle-Earth."

When Draco and Hermione came scrambling down, Ron crept up to take a look for himself. He could see why Hermione had been so impressed; he had never seen such an army in all his life. As far as the eye could see, a long, long line of dark-faced men in armor were marching into Mordor. Some of them were mounted, while the majority paced along on foot. Their spearpoints glittered over their heads, shining in the dim, watery light that filtered through the cloud cover. Their banners were black and red, with red predominating, as it did in their armor and clothing. Draco had been right, noted Ron---many of them did seem to have red face-paint. A line Ron had heard from a Muggle street preacher at Speaker's Corner in London once floated through his mind, and he murmured "As terrible as an army with banners."

Hermione squirmed up beside him. "Well, this tells us things we didn't know." At Ron's questioning look, she went on: "Firstly, there has to be food and water inside Mordor of a sort we can eat. Secondly, the Dark Lord's concentrating his forces for a big strike against somebody; my guess is Gondor. If he's worried about that, he won't be keeping a sharp eye on Mordor itself, if we can just get in without alerting the guards."

When they were all together again on the ground behind the hill, Hermione got out her map. "Let me see, we're here, and Cirith Ungol is here, so to get there, we'll have to go this far..." she was murmuring, lost in concentration. "It looks to be about thirty leagues to the cross-roads. That should take us three or four days; travelling by night."

"Yess, yess, travelling by night! When the Yellow Face is out of the sky, nice masster and pretty girl can travel, nice and safe!" Gollum crouched down. "Right now, we rests, rests, doesn't we? Musst store up strength for dreadful journeys!"