The journey from Cair Andros to the Black Gate was a little over a hundred kilometers.
It was not a particularly long march, but what awaited the army would be nowhere near as easy as before.
At some point, the shadows of Ringwraiths had begun passing overhead again and again.
Perhaps they feared the Elves' keen eyes and the magic the Wizards wielded, which could counter them.
The Nazgûl flew very high and dared not swoop down. Human eyes could not make out the shapes of those monsters at all.
But the Elves' occasional glances skyward warned everyone that enemies were already prowling above them.
With the arrival of the Ringwraiths, unease and despair began taking root in the soldiers' hearts. Even though they did not know where those feelings came from, anxiety swiftly spread through the entire army.
The confidence built by their string of victories was rapidly being worn away.
Only Allen's men, the Elves from Eriador, and a small number of elite troops remained in reasonably good spirits.
That was only natural. Most of the Riders of Rohan who served Thengel were young men from across the West-mark. They lacked both experience in war and the resilience forged by long years.
Their fear was understandable. Only when they looked at the Running Horse Banner that represented the King of Rohan could they find a shred of resolve to keep moving forward.
As for the soldiers of Gondor, most had been farmers toiling in the fields before they took up arms. Loyalty to their king and youthful fervor had brought them into the army marching against Mordor.
Their fear was understandable too. Mordor's darkness had threatened Gondor for a thousand years, and the closer they came to that land of death, the stronger their unease grew.
Gondor, however,