Dagorlad, a vast, open plain directly facing the Black Gate in northern Mordor.
Several major wars that determined the fate of Middle-earth were fought here.
For example, at the end of the Second Age, the Last Alliance of Elves and Men clashed with Sauron in a final battle on this very field. At the cost of the lives of two High Kings and many of their elite guards, they managed to defeat him and wrest the Ring from his hand.
That battle gathered nearly all the powers of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth: Lindon, Arnor, Gondor (Rohan had not yet been founded, so its lands were part of Gondor), Khazad-dûm, Lothlórien, the Woodland Realm...
The combined might of Dwarves, Elves, and Men assembled here.
And their enemy was Sauron's vast army of orcs and Black Númenóreans, along with countless other fell creatures, including monstrous beasts. Records say their numbers were "beyond counting."
Thus, the grand host of the Free Peoples clashed with Mordor's unnumbered hordes of darkness upon this ashen plain.
The war raged for seven years.
Yet even so, despite pressing into the very heart of Sauron's realm, the Alliance could not breach his accursed Dark Tower. The fortress, reinforced with sorcery, stood unassailable.
Had Sauron not emerged himself to face the Alliance and made a fatal mistake, he might have endured far longer.
To be honest, given the circumstances back then, even if Garrett were placed in Sauron's position now, he might not have survived either, at least not if he simply charged ahead without exploiting his unique abilities in advance.
After all, even setting aside the armies, the enemy leaders alone included several High Kings and Elven lords wielding Rings of Power, with their strange and mighty enchantments.
Not to mention an entire army of royal guards, each of them with strength comparable to a fully seasoned Ranger. Fighting against that was no simple task.
Seen from this angle, Sauron really did face overwhelming odds.
After the Last Alliance, there was also Gondor's war against the Easterlings in the Third Age. The Easterlings were formidable then, they nearly overran the lands that would one day become Rohan...
The wagons rattled forward along the road.
Garrett lay atop the pile of goods, staring up at the sky. As he recalled the history of this vast and bleak plain, drowsiness crept over him.
Rocked gently by the small jolts beneath him, he soon closed his eyes, his breathing steadying.
Perhaps it wasn't necessary, but sometimes, isn't sleep itself a kind of entertainment and relaxation?
---
In northern Mordor, a great gate of black stone bound with iron bars loomed high, blocking the only direct entrance into the land.
Everywhere else, Mordor was ringed by the towering, pitch-dark Ephel Dúath. With ordinary means, no one could possibly cross them. They formed a natural barrier and a safeguard for Mordor.
Thus, under normal circumstances, entry and exit were possible only through this gate, heavily garrisoned and tightly watched.
Ordinarily, no one would venture to pass this way.
And yet...
Clatter, clatter...
A caravan of wagons loaded with goods rolled boldly along the road, making no effort to conceal its approach.
"What is that?"
When the orc sentries on the gate saw the human caravan approaching unhurriedly, they almost thought they were hallucinating from hunger.
Those maggot-ridden loaves had been tormenting them.
"Am I seeing things?"
While the first guard doubted his senses, another patrolling orc also spoke up.
"I think I see a caravan of Men loaded with goods, moving along the road not far from us. Right there."
He pointed straight ahead.
Clatter...
At this distance, they could even faintly hear the creak of wheels.
"They don't look like allies of ours."
The two orcs' eyes widened.
A commotion broke out.
Boom!
The massive steel gates parted slightly, and out poured a squad of heavily armed orcs, led by towering Olog-hai in full iron armor.
The caravan's guards raised their weapons, tense and ready for the charge.
Several of them trembled uncontrollably.
These foes looked far more fearsome than anything they had faced before, even more than the Riders of Rohan. Even the orcs' armor here was superior. Compared with these, the orcs of Eriador were clothed in little more than rags.
The air grew heavy. The distance shrank rapidly. The Olog-hai were moments from overturning the wagons, when suddenly, a figure sat up from the central pile of goods and cast a glance their way.
The orcs froze at once. Their leader hastily signaled his troops to halt.
Only the Olog-hai still charged forward, dull-witted and heedless.
"Fools, get back!"
Whoosh.
A flaming arrow struck one of them. Garrett hurled an ender pearl and leaped from the wagon. While the orcs were still nervously tracking his movement, violet particles shimmered in the air, then in the blink of an eye, he was atop another Olog-hai's head, driving his sword straight through the gap in its steel armor.
Splurt!
A jet of thick, black blood gushed out, drenching his armor until it gleamed darkly.
"ROAR!!"
The Olog-hai bellowed, seizing Garrett with its immense strength and hurling him skyward. But when it raised its head the next instant, Garrett had vanished again, violet motes drifting down. In the blink of an eye, he stood atop a third Olog-hai, raising high a long sword glowing with radiant blue light.
"Aaagh!!!"
In moments, three Olog-hai lay broken. The last one stopped its charge, staring at Garrett with fear in its eyes.
Thud!
As it began to retreat, darkness surged within it, hardening its resolve.
"For the Master!"
The words, shouted in the Black Speech, carried a corrupt power. Even the surrounding orcs felt the grip of fear loosen for a moment, stirred into restless agitation.
It was the tongue Sauron himself had forged, the same inscribed on the One Ring.
Not good.
Garrett instantly threw another pearl, teleporting beside it. With a swift slash through the armor joints, he severed a tendon, forcing the Olog-hai to one knee. Gathering strength, he struck a precise blow to a weak point, then followed with several quick strikes to finish it off.
The remaining three Olog-hai raised their colossal axes and clubs, each wider than a man's height, and barreled at Garrett.
But Garrett did not dodge. Relying on his shield, he endured the crushing, steamroller-like blows, and under their assault he cut down the one most gravely wounded.
Boom!
His shield shattered. A failsafe in his belt triggered, unleashing a shockwave that flung the last two Olog-hai sprawling.
And once they were down, their fate was sealed.
The final Olog-hai moved no more.
As one of Mordor's few soldier-breeds capable of threatening Garrett, they had done their utmost.
His shield slowly recharged, covering him once again.
In truth, whether Olog-hai or mûmakil, with the right maneuvering Garrett could kite them endlessly, wiping them out without ever being touched. Against such foes, it wasn't even certain they'd land a single blow before dying.
Unlike the Nazgûl at the crossroads before, there, evasion was impossible, injury unavoidable. That fight had been of an entirely different nature than this raw contest of strength.
Of course, a clean, injury-free kill was impressive... but nothing matched the sheer impact of standing firm against them head-on.
Shhhk.
Pulling his blade free, Garrett turned to the orcs, who had grown restless from the Black Speech.
But after watching him withstand the Olog-hai's titanic axes and hammers without retreat, they suddenly quieted.
Crunch.
The Olog-hai's head, helmet and all, was lopped clean off, black blood spraying across the ground.
A brutal display, intended as intimidation.
Garrett pointed his sword at the orc leader and said coldly:
"If you don't want me to tear this gate open and clean out every last thing inside, then crawl back where you came from."
The orc chieftain swallowed hard. With one hand, he signaled his troops to fall back, never taking his eyes off Garrett as they slowly retreated behind the gates.
Clang!
The massive black iron doors shut with a resounding boom, barring the outside world once more.
"Let's go."
Garrett sheathed his sword and climbed back onto the wagon.
After a pause, he said to Charlie.
"You were right. Next time, we'd better not come through here."
This venture had been poorly thought through.
Mordor's true elites, like the Olog-hai, would never truly know fear, so long as Sauron endured. Unless they faced an enemy that utterly eclipsed them, like a fire-drake a hundred meters long, or a Balrog, they would never break.
For Garrett alone, passing through the Black Gate was manageable; if intimidation failed, he could always fight his way through.
But for his people, it was different.
Like just now, had he chosen a safer, evasive fighting style, circling away from the Olog-hai's blows, the orcs might have taken it as weakness and rushed all at once. And Garrett could not split himself in two to stop them all.
He had been reckless.
The ease of long years traveling alone had nearly made him forget one simple truth, Mordor was never something to be taken lightly.