The words spoken by the Mouth of Sauron carried a high degree of credibility. Garrett didn't doubt that if he nodded right now, Mordor would immediately surrender, and would probably drag along all of its allies as well. And as for Sauron himself, it was quite possible that he truly would swear allegiance to Garrett.
However... This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
Back in the days when the Númenóreans fought Sauron, he had also declared surrender on the spot, relying on that handsome facade and honeyed words to climb from a prisoner to the position of royal advisor, and then began his corruption from within. The final result was known to all. The great kingdom of Númenor fell, and all its lands sank beneath the sea.
And now this guy wanted to play the same trick again?
The Mouth of Sauron's proposal caught everyone completely off guard. Everyone had assumed what came next would be a negotiation, or perhaps a declaration of open war. But no one expected that the self-proclaimed Dark Lord would choose to surrender, and even pledge loyalty to his enemy.
Even though he had great confidence in Garrett, Gandalf still grew wary upon hearing this. He cautioned, "Remember what happened before. Do not agree to it."
Garrett only smiled, patted Gandalf lightly on the shoulder, and took two steps forward. Watching his unchanging expression and steady back, Gandalf realized that his warning had probably been unnecessary.
"I have no interest in the loyalty of an oathbreaker. And if he truly wishes to negotiate, let him come out himself, not hide behind others."
The Mouth of Sauron gave no reply. He only stared hard at Garrett, trying to discern something from him. But no matter how long he looked, he found the man before him full of unfathomable mystery. He could see nothing, not what Garrett was thinking, nor whether the One Ring was truly in his possession. At least, it was certain that Garrett wasn't wearing it on his finger. The two golden rings inlaid with amber he wore were not the One Ring, but some other kind of magical artifacts.
The Mouth of Sauron began to feel uneasy.
Sauron's aims were never singular. He never gambled everything on one possibility. This negotiation was meant to test many things, Garrett's ambition being only one of them. If the talks succeeded, that would be ideal. But if they failed... though the Mouth of Sauron stood alone before the Black Gate, beyond that gate was the entirety of Mordor's remaining army.
All the forces that could be mustered had already been gathered there, waiting behind that massive door.
"Well then..."
The Mouth of Sauron was about to try and find some excuse to stall for time, but before he could, Gimli could no longer hold himself back. From behind, the Dwarf shouted, "He's still hiding tricks up his sleeve! I say we should just shoot an arrow through his head right now, to prevent..."
BOOM!
Before he could even finish his sentence, a fierce gust exploded across the field. Everyone's hearts skipped a beat. The next moment, they saw that the Mouth of Sauron's chest had been blown open. The black steel armor he wore hadn't protected him in the slightest. And the one responsible, of course, was Garrett, standing at the front.
He slowly lowered his dragonbone bow and nodded in agreement. "You're right, Gimli. That's exactly what we should do."
Gimli stared ahead, dumbfounded, swallowing hard. The dragonbone arrow had pierced clean through the Mouth of Sauron's chest, embedding itself in the Black Gate behind him. The clash of bone against metal echoed far into the distance, like a signal, heard by all on both sides of the gate.
Thud.
Caught completely off guard, the Mouth of Sauron toppled from his horse, motionless.
High above on Barad-dûr, the flaming Eye instantly turned its gaze toward the scene. The way things had unfolded was clearly beyond Sauron's expectations. The negotiation had ended abruptly. All probing had ceased in an instant.
"So, you choose war?"
Within the black tower, Sauron muttered to himself.
BOOM!
War drums thundered.
The great gates slammed shut. Countless orcs climbed onto the top and sides of the Black Gate's spiked towers, facing off against the armies below.
That gate was indestructible, comparable to the obsidian walls of Wayfort. Even the seventy thousand elite soldiers of the united host would have to fight hard to break through it. And, as mentioned before, the gate was incredibly tough, resistant to digging, explosions, and even some magical assaults.
It could suppress certain kinds of attacks, if only slightly.
But all of that was in vain.
Garrett donned his chestplate and flew upward, sweeping through the orcs that guarded the gate. He located the gate's control mechanism, and despite being surrounded and attacked by hordes of monsters, he forcibly reopened the massive doors by hand.
Efficiency, above all.
This time, it wasn't just a crack. The gate was fully open, allowing the human coalition to advance. But that was easier said than done. Behind the gate stretched endless waves of orcs and vile creatures, as dark and boundless as a night-black sea.
BOOM!
Dark clouds rolled out from within Mordor, shrouding the sky above the gate. The remaining eight Nazgûl flew wildly through the air, trying to spread fear. Yet this time, neither their shrieks nor the roars of the beasts they rode had any effect. The leaders stood firm at the front, their mere presence lifting the morale of the troops behind them. And at the very front stood a living legend, one whose very existence weighed heavily on the battlefield.
For a moment, Mordor's army hesitated. Horns blew, drums pounded, but they did not advance. Both sides now clashed not with weapons, but with willpower. The leaders of the Free Peoples moved up and down the ranks, shouting encouragement, leading by example. The momentum of the alliance swelled ever greater. Garrett and his companions pressed forward, step by step, riding the wave of that rising power.
Light pierced through the clouds, stinging the eyes of the creatures of darkness. Just as it seemed that the orc vanguard might collapse under the sheer pressure, a strange black wind rose before the gate. The dark clouds of Mordor rolled back once more, covering the sky. The disturbance was immense, so loud it drowned out drums and horns alike. The air was filled with a piercing hum.
Darkness descended upon the land.
"One Ring to rule them all..."
Those who had attended the Council of Elrond recalled that line. When Gandalf had read the inscription of the One Ring aloud in Rivendell, a wave of darkness had also fallen, filling the place with dread. Now, an even greater terror was upon them.
"Hold the formation! Don't move!"
"It's just the enemy's bluff. Do not fear!"
Aragorn and Théoden shouted from the front ranks of their armies, stepping forward to meet the darkness head-on.
"Do not let the hope within your hearts be extinguished!"
Gandalf raised his staff high, summoning light to fight against the encroaching shadow.
The fire of hope ignited within every heart.
The soldiers of Rohan and Gondor looked to their kings, to the banner of Théoden fluttering behind him, to Andúril gleaming in Aragorn's hand, to the white light emanating from the wizard's staff. One by one, they steadied themselves, their resolve unshaken. And the armies of the Free Cities fixed their gaze on the lone figure standing unmoving before the Black Gate, holding their ground like statues, not a single unnecessary motion among them.
Once the troops' morale had been steadied, Gandalf stepped forward anxiously and warned, "Do not let your guard down, Garrett. Even without the One Ring, his power has already been mostly restored. Be very careful."
"I know," Garrett replied.