The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 809-811

The “very moment” that Tolkien speaks of here is the moment that the Morgul Lord describes as “my hour”, the triumph of the powers of darkness over the free peoples of Middle-earth. As the defenders of Minas Tirith flee before him only Gandalf stands. But what happens next is not a mighty struggle such as took place in the mines of Moria when Gandalf fought the Balrog and died as he overthrew his enemy, but the sound of horns. The Riders of Rohan have come at last to the aid of their ancient allies.

And there is something else, something that the Morgul Lord does not seem to notice, but is absolutely fundamental to the turning of the battle before the walls of the city.

“And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.”

The Witch-King does not notice this because why should he? What does it matter to him that in the heart of a great battle such a thing should happen? The doings of small creatures are beneath his notice. Ultimately, the doings of any creature are of nothing to him, chief of all the servants of the Dark Lord. The end of that creature, as is the end of any creature, is darkness, so why should he bother?

Except that the crowing of the cockerel announces a turning of the tide. Maybe not the ultimate downfall of his master, that is yet to come and is equally unlooked for, but it is the turning of the tide in the story of that day, because what the cock announces in its crowing is the coming of the dawn.

For many days now there has been no dawn. The smokes of Mount Doom have spread over the lands of the south, reaching even the mustering of the Riders of Rohan in Harrowdale far off in Rohan. As the world turns towards the springtime of the year Sauron declares to that world that there will be no spring, there will be no welcome to the return of life, but only darkness. His own armies and most especially his orcs, fear the sun, and even his allies who have sold themselves to the power of darkness acknowledge its inevitable triumph and serve it. Frodo may have cried out in defiance at the setting of the sun at the Crossroads that the Powers of Darkness will not conquer forever, but if Sauron had heard that cry he might have named it as bravery in the face of defeat but nothing more than that. Both he and his master, Morgoth, have heard many such cries and have never feared them.

But the crowing of the cock is not a cry of defiance. The cock is simply doing what he has always done when the dawn breaks over the world. He crows. And in the simple act of his crowing, he declares something that undermines the power of every tyrant. He declares that although the earth is marred by darkness it is both good and free. He declares that “the heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork.” That the sun “as a bridegroom cometh out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.” The good earth and the good sun is not the servant of Sauron but of Eru Ilúvatar, the Creator of all. The morning is coming high above the shadows that Sauron has made, and he has no power over it, and with the changing of the direction of the wind those shadows are beginning to lift, and the cock crows to welcome the dawn and the ending of the night.

The words that the Morgul Lord speaks to Gandalf in the gate of the city inevitably recall the words that Jesus spoke to the temple guards who had come to arrest him in the Garden of Gethsemane: “but this is your hour and the power of darkness” (Luke 22.53). But just as the power of darkness in the gospel has only the power permitted to it for it to wield so too the power of the Morgul Lord is only for a moment. The cock crow announces the end of that power as the dawn breaks and the horns of Rohan sound.