LOTR: TMCP Ch. 402

A massive storm exploded outward with Sauron at its center. Both the allied human army and the orcs and other evil creatures froze in their movements. Everyone was thrown off balance by the fierce gale, many tumbling helplessly to the ground. Even Garrett and his many allies at the very center of the blast were not spared. Caught completely off guard, they were blown far away.

For the first time in a long while, Garrett felt the sting of being forced back. He quickly got to his feet, ready to charge forward again. But when he looked up, Sauron was gone.

"Where did he go?"

Garrett's face was filled with confusion as he scanned the battlefield. No matter how he looked, there was no trace of Sauron anywhere. The elite soldiers and legion champions who had been helping Garrett restrain Sauron, and who had also been blown away, stood up one by one, glancing around and shaking their heads.

"He ran."

At that moment, Gandalf approached, panting heavily, holding Glamdring, which was now almost entirely dyed red with blood.

"But that last move cost him dearly," Gandalf said. "For a while, he won't be able to strike again."

"Then right now..." Garrett's gaze turned toward the deeper parts of Mordor, to that towering, black, evil spire.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "He's there. He's hidden himself once more in that proud tower of his. But this time, I fear he won't venture out again."

"Then he'll never have the chance to."

Garrett's tone was firm.

With Sauron gone, Mordor's army had lost its backbone. Even though he had only retreated, everyone had witnessed his defeat. The commanders of Mordor shouted themselves hoarse, trying to rally their forces, but it was useless. Before the surging morale of the human alliance, all their resistance became nothing but futile struggle.

It wasn't long before the Nazgûl were beaten back, and the monstrous beasts lost their masters.

At that moment, the airborne horrors, now freed from the Nazgûl's control, finally felt the true might of the dragons. For dragons were the true rulers of the skies. Those so-called fell beasts were nothing more than remnants of an ancient age, creatures Sauron had found clinging to life in some desolate mountain range.

In terms of species, they belonged to the pterosaur family. To Men, they might have seemed terrifying, but before a fire dragon, they looked almost fragile. With another blast of dragonfire, the shrill cries in the sky finally faded. Some died, some fled. Not a single fell beast remained over the battlefield.

The defeat was total.

Led by Garrett and the other leaders, the allied forces pressed forward relentlessly, all the way to the walls of Barad-dûr, surrounding the dark tower completely. But this tower was not easily breached. It was even stronger than Orthanc, which Saruman had reinforced with his magic.

In the war of the Last Alliance long ago, the combined armies of Men and Elves had besieged Barad-dûr for seven years without breaking it. In the end, Sauron himself had grown impatient and come out, only to have his Ring cut from his hand by the High Kings of Men and Elves in a grueling battle.

BOOM!

As the allied army encircled the dark tower, countless flaming boulders and volleys of arrows rained down from above with ferocious power.

"Fall back!"

Garrett slashed a massive stone in half with his sword, commanding the army to retreat to a safer distance. But that didn't mean he was done attacking.

Moments later, after Garrett's direction and effort, massive piles of TNT were stacked at the base of Barad-dûr's walls.

Click.

With the scrape of a flint, one of the TNT blocks began to glow.

He quickly turned and sprinted toward the army, which had already retreated to a safe distance. A real man never looks back at an explosion, though in truth, he couldn't have afforded to look back anyway. A moment's delay and he'd be caught in it himself.

BOOM!

The first explosion set off a chain reaction, the blasts coming faster and faster as more TNT ignited. Some went off at the base of the walls, some were hurled high into the air by the force, and some slammed into the fortress walls, blowing orc defenders apart.

When the detonations finally ceased, he lifted his gaze once more toward Barad-dûr. The ground was covered with deep craters, and the fortress wall... had taken some damage, but not much.

This fortress was every bit as strong as Wayfort. That pitch-black wall looked extraordinary, clearly not made from ordinary stone. It was likely, like the Black Gate, reinforced with iron and steel, a true bastion of metal.

Phew.

Garrett exhaled slowly, eyes locked on the wall that was harder than obsidian and nearly blast-proof, his brow furrowed. Breaking through would not be easy. But difficulties always have solutions. It was only a wall, not bedrock. If he truly set his mind to it, destroying it wouldn't be impossible.

If he didn't have to consider the army behind him, if it were just him alone, he could think of a dozen ways to get in, and easily at that.

But...

"Do you still remember what our original goal was, Garrett?"

Seeing their assault stall, Gandalf approached and spoke softly beside his ear.

"Barad-dûr is unbreakable. Its defenses are even stronger than Wayfort. Don't forget, this is Sauron's home ground. His power here is greatly magnified. You saw that rain of fire just now? That was his doing. One wrong move, and we'll suffer terrible losses. There's a simpler way to defeat him."

As he spoke, he turned his gaze westward, toward Mount Doom.

Garrett instantly understood what he meant.

Gandalf whispered, "Frodo and the others should have already reached Mordor by now. Perhaps we can go and help them. When the One Ring is destroyed, Sauron will perish with it. The defenses of Barad-dûr will crumble on their own, and the dark magic surrounding it will vanish. Then we can take this place with almost no effort."

"Makes sense."

Garrett nodded, then gathered all the present leaders to give his orders.

"Watch Sauron for me."

"Go without worry," Aragorn was the first to respond firmly. "We won't let him take a single step out of that tower."

Standing beside Aragorn, Gandalf added, "I'll also keep my eyes on his every move."

The others, upon learning that Garrett was leaving temporarily, quickly voiced their assurances as well. With them in charge, he felt confident.

Sauron had almost no chance of escaping. If he even tried to move, the Free Cities' armies would immediately close in.

Garrett had stationed five legion champions and an entire company of elite Rangers, soldiers who had earned the prestigious Ranger Medal, specifically to guard the tower gate and prevent Sauron from doing anything unexpected. With Gandalf, Aragorn, and the others providing support, even if Sauron could fly, he'd be shot down by Weymir.

In short, Sauron was completely trapped.

Once he made sure everything was secure, he slipped away quietly, heading straight for Mount Doom.

The tide had turned. Sauron's defeat now seemed inevitable, beyond reversal. And yet, for some reason, watching Garrett's departing back, Gandalf felt a heavy sense of foreboding.

He gripped his staff tightly, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He chose to entrust his faith, and the future, to Garrett. It wasn't an easy decision... in fact, it was harder than anyone could have imagined.

A critical trial was approaching.

Yes, a trial.

This was destined to be the age of Men.

Both Gondor and Rohan had endured their own hardships and tests, and along the way, their leaders had proven the strength of their hearts through action. Some had found redemption, some had been transformed, and others had grown stronger in will and spirit. But beyond them, there was still one man left.

One man who had yet to confront his truest heart, and the essence of who he really was.