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Gil-galad’s eyes followed the distant shape flying above the mountain peaks, gradually approaching and getting larger. He could discern even from afar its misshapen features: not the graceful form of a bird, but hideous leathery wings and a naked, snake-like body. Then the fell beast let out a shrill cry, filling the frozen air and echoing across the mountain pass. Its attack was relentless and fast as lightning: it swooped down on the company, grabbing some men instantly with its talons and throwing them from a height, tearing with its long sharp beak at the bodies of others before they even had a chance to scream. Some of the troops ran away in fear: it was hard even for a seasoned warrior to remain composed in the face of this vicious assault, and many of those partaking in the forces of the Last Alliance were young and untested in war.
Gil-galad charged, urging his horse to gallop, and he heard Elendil following right behind him. They engaged the beast on the narrow mountain path above a ravine, into which the creature had already hurled half a dozen soldiers. The two captains attacked, coordinating their movements in a practiced fashion. One would strike and the other raise a shield against the beast’s assault; one would provide a distraction and the other stab the vicious creature as it unwittingly exposed some weak area. During their sojourn in Imladris, where their forces forged weapons and prepared for the forthcoming war, Gil-galad and Elendil purposefully practiced together, working on their combat strategies and synchronising their skills until they were able to fight in unison. In battle, they acted as though a single mind commanded two bodies. No word needed to be spoken aloud, no instruction given by one of them to the other: the mighty blows of Aeglos and Narsil struck the foul creature as though they had been delivered by a single warrior, and soon the beast’s dying body tumbled down the cliffs of Caradhras.
"The beast was doing Sauron's bidding, no doubt," said Elendil, catching breath as he wiped the blade of Narsil on the pristine snow. "But how did it know where to find us?"
"I think it did not," Gil-galad replied. "The Enemy may know we are on the move, but he can only guess at our plans and the point at which we would cross Hithaeglir."
He and Elendil had only taken with them a small company of one hundred men, while the majority of their forces were waiting for them at the foot of the mountains, with Elrond as Gil-galad's second-in-command. The task of the advance guard was to check the mountain pass, and send a word to Elrond on whether it was safe to take the Alliance army this way.
"They are but beasts," the High King went on, "even though they have been trained by the Dark Lord. They must have been sent to fly across the Misty Mountains, look for the movement of troops and attack if they see any. But this range extends for hundreds of miles, from Gundabad to the Gap of Calenardhon, and Sauron's spies cannot be everywhere at once. If only we could find some place that would provide shelter for our company, and remain hidden for a day; my guess is that the beasts would fly over this area several more times, and upon finding nothing, would move further north or south. Then this passage would be secure, and our forces could resume crossing without suffering any more losses."
Gil-galad gazed thoughtfully at the towering rockface, rich in iron ore that gave Caradhras its red hue and its Sindarin name. Where could they possibly find shelter? Caradhras was ill-famed for its bare rock which offered no refuge or cover; and even if they chanced upon some caves, they would not be large enough to conceal an entire company. As it was, Gil-galad and Elendil alone were able to hide from the eyes of the beasts. They had cloaks that were gifted to them by Lady Galadriel, sewn by her maids and woven with her spells. The cloaks changed their colour to blend with the colours of the surroundings, and could thus protect their wearers from unfriendly eyes: here, they would become as white as snow. But the rest of their company had no such protection.
"My lord," Elendil said. "I may have a solution to this. We shall built snow shelters, as we were wont to do in the mountains in Númenor. All those who came to Middle-earth on the ships with me and my sons will know how it is done."
He summoned all the Númenoreans in the company and tasked them with building the dugout shelters and instructing others to help. The digging commenced on a plateau where there were large drifts of snow, packed and hard as ice.
While Elendil remained close by to oversee the task, Gil-galad dismounted his steed and climbed a steep ridge, from where he could see the surrounding mountain peaks, Celebdil and Fanuidhol, and in the far south, the vague outlines of Methedras. He was concerned that another attack might come while they were still at work and unprotected. But time went by, and no new fiend appeared in the windy sky. Men and Elves worked with haste and soon completed the shelters.
Elendil joined him on the ridge: while everyone else was hidden, the two of them would remain outside and watch the skies.
"We are grateful to the Men of Númenor for sharing their knowledge about the snow caves," said Gil-galad. "Where does this skill come from, my lord Elendil? And how come so many Númenoreans are familiar with it?"
But before Elendil could answer, foul screeching was heard from afar, and two pairs of leathery wings were seen approaching them from the east. "We must take cover!", Elendil shouted. He lowered one knee onto the icy snow, and with a wave of his arm hid himself under his Galadhrim cloak. Gil-galad did the same.
The screams and the beating of the huge wings grew louder as the beasts came close, very close, surveying the mountain pass, almost touching the two cloaked figures without seeing them. Then the sounds gradually became more distant. The beasts flew higher, still circling above the area, and at long last they departed. Elendil and Gil-galad stood up again, throwing back their cloaks, and realizing with satisfaction that their plan had worked: the dugout shelters had not been detected by the creatures. The company was safely housed inside them.
"You have asked about the Númenoreans and their knowledge of the survival shelters, my lord," Elendil said. "It is indeed common knowledge in Númenor. Young men and women of Westernesse love mountain climbing; they journey on foot to the wild parts of the island, and enjoy staying there for days, even in wintertime. Naturally, they have learnt to make themselves shelters, for all kinds of weather and all seasons."
Gil-galad noticed how Elendil got carried away by the pleasant thoughts of the past, and began talking as if the island was still there; as if the young Númenoreans still went habitually to the mountains to enjoy carefree adventure.
"But especially challenging are the promontories in the west coast of the island, where our young people love to climb to show their prowess and courage. Beautiful birds nest there, too. Many of my countrymen go there just to watch them. It is... it was... a Númenorean tradition."
It was only upon uttering this last sentence that Elendil's voice faltered, and he corrected himself, becoming aware again that Númenor was no more, that it had sunk under the waves for ever, and that the customs he had been describing to Gil-galad now existed only in memory.
The Elven High King recalled how deeply shaken the Númenorean had been when they first met on the shores of Lindon: Gil-galad had recognized right away that standing before him was an honourable and exceptional man, but so thoroughly overwhelmed by grief at the tragedy and loss inflicted on his people. He then learned that the storm had also separated Elendil from his two sons, Isildur and Anarion, and that after many days of struggling with the sea he had reached the shores of Middle-earth alone. But that same night, in sleep, Gil-galad's ring Vilya had sent him a vision telling him the two young men were still alive, and had safely sailed with their families to the mouths of the Anduin. He clearly remembered the day when he had imparted the good news to Elendil, as this marked the beginning of their friendship.
"High King of the Realms in Exile," he said. "Elendil, mellon nin. There is no true comfort for the terrible loss you have suffered, and any words that I can give you will fall short of their purpose, and sound hollow to your ear. But let me at least remind you of this: that Middle-earth is also your home; that in the old days your forebears, the Edain, dwelled here and aided the Eldar in their wars against the Great Foe. It is the home of my most ancient ancestors, too, those who woke up by Cuivienen. So let us fight now for this Middle-earth; for at present, it is the only home we both have. And if it is saved, your descendants will thrive in it and keep the best traditions of Númenor alive."
"And save it we must," Elendil said softly. "An oath I have taken, to you, my friend, my king, and I intend to fulfil it." He laid his hands on the High King's armoured shoulders, and Gil-galad returned the gesture. The sky above them turned darker blue, and the first luminous points appeared in it. Gil-galad wondered if any more fell beasts would fly during the night; but under the pure light of the stars kindled by Elbereth, it seemed impossible to him that any evil would dare show its face. Soon it will be safe for them to send a messenger to Elrond, and take their army across this snowy pass and into a decisive war.