Valandil, she waited for Isildur now in Imladris, the hidden refuge of the Elves in the north. Of all of Sauron's crimes which Isildur had sworn to avenge, not least was this: his beloved Vorondome a sad, frightened, and broken creature, who once had been so fair, so proud.
At long last the frowning cliffs fell back and there before them lay the highland meadows of Lamedon, crossed here and there by icy snow-fed freshets tumbling through the long grass to join the chill river Kiril, far below to their right. Beyond, two great peaks reared their purple heads in the east, forming another arm of the Ered Nimrais, like to the one they had just passed through. The valley was hemmed by steep mountains on three sides, but to the south it fell away to lush green fields washed with the gold and blue of wildflowers. The company's hearts were lifted by the sight and they pressed forward, knowing the road would be easier now.
They camped that night in the heather of Lamedon and in the morning began the long descent. All that day they marched and on the second day they came nigh to the Kiril, chuckling and tumbling in its rocky bed. They began seeing tended fields and an occasional cottage huddled under a stand of trees in a protected dale. The road then bore off to the east and descended steeply to the ancient Ford of Calembel. On the far side, the citadel of Calembel perched on a hill overlooking the fords. It was only a small town, but strongly fortified, with walls of grey stone ringing a cluster of roofs tiled with blue-grey slate. From the highest turret fluttered a green banner crossed with a silver stream. Armed men stood motionless on the walls and watched as the column splashed into the river. Before the van reached the far shore, however, a deep drum sounded from the battlements and a man called down to them.
'Hold there! I am charged with the guarding of this ford, and it is decreed that no armed host shall cross this river without the permission of the king. Who are you and what is your purpose in this land?'
Ohtar stepped forward to unfurl the standard and herald the king, but Isildur bade him hold. Instead, Isildur rose in his stirrups and called up to the walls.
'Can you not count spears, guardian? I have a score of men to each of yours. I could seize this pretty little town of yours and level it before dark. Think again, I beg you. Will you not let us pass?'
The guardian swept out his sword and held it aloft, shining in the sun.
'You may indeed take Calembel this day, Outlander. But you must needs slay every man of this garrison first, and you would not have so many bright spears to count when you rode on. If you seek death, stranger, step from the river and your wish shall be granted.'
'You speak boldly, guardian. Who is this distant king you would serve so valiantly?'
'We are liege men of Isildur, King of Gondor, and you would do well to speak no ill of him.'
Then did Isildur throw back his head and his great laugh rang out.
'I will indeed speak no ill of your king, faithful guardian. Be you at your ease, for in sooth I am Isildur Elendilson, and these are the men of Gondor you would die to protect.' Then at his sign Ohtar and the standard bearers stood forth and broke the banners of the hosts, and foremost among them, snapping in the wind, the White Tree of Gondor, surmounted by the Silver Crown and stars of the house of Elros.
When the men on the walls saw this they gave a shout of joy and fell on their knees. The guardian, recovering from his surprise, turned and shouted to those within the walls.
'It is Isildur himself! The king is come to Calembel! Throw open the gates! Strike ye the drum!' Then the drum rolled again in the tower and the hills resounded. A great shout rent the air and they turned in surprise and lo, the ridge behind them was lined with mounted and armed men. They shook their lances and hailed their king. Isildur laughed again.
'So, Ohtar, it would seem our guardian is not only valiant but also canny in the ways of war. You see he did not let us see all of his forces until he knew our purpose. We have a valuable ally here.' Then he turned and rode toward the city, the water spraying up like diamonds about Fleetfoot's prancing hooves. The guardian, breathless from his hurried dash from the parapet, met them at the gates and fell to his knees before the king, presenting his sword.
'Hail, Isildur King,' he said. 'I am Ingold, master of Calembel and your humble servant. I do beseech your pardon at my uncivil greeting, my liege, but these are troubled times and we knew you not.'
Isildur dismounted and bade him rise, saying, 'You were not meant to know me, good master Ingold, until I was sure of your allegiance. These are indeed unquiet times, and old fealties may no longer be honored. In truth, you could not have given me a greeting more welcome to my ears.'
'The men of Calembel are your faithful servants, my liege, and so it has been since you first brought peace to this land in the time of my father's father's father. You need fear no enemy while you abide in the land of Lamedon.'
Isildur clasped his arms. ''Tis good to be again amongst friends, Ingold. May you and your people prosper.' Ingold bowed and ushered them into his humble court where red wine and meat and good goat cheese was set before them. As they supped, Ingold asked of their errand.
'What brings you to our poor corner of the kingdom, Sire? And whence came you, if you will forgive my curiosity? It is rare indeed that any traveller comes to us from the north, still less when the king himself appears with an army at his back. And I see standards and faces from many lands among your folk. You say they are the men of Gondor, but not all are from Ithilien or Anorien, I would wager.'
'You would win the wager. They are men of many lands, but all sworn to the defense of the realm. From Erech we come now, though our journey began many months ago and far away in the east, yea, even from the black plains of Mordor itself.' As he spoke the fell name, the hall fell silent and the people glanced uneasily at each other.
'The Dark Tower is encircled and constantly besieged. But think not that its master is at bay. He has vast forces still at his command, and powers yet untested. Even now he weaves his dark webs about us. My own city, Minas Ithil, is still despoiled by orcs and ruled by wights yet more fearsome — hideous undead things that were once great kings of men. No land is safe while the Enemy yet rules. All our efforts are bent on breaking his power.
'We have fought to a stalemate in Mordor, but we have so far been unable to break the Barad-dur. Now a new stroke is planned. But much help is needed. Thus far the people of the western provinces have been spared the horrors of the war. But now I am come to seek your help. We have great need of every man who can and will fight. I ask you now, Ingold, before your men and your chief citizens: will the men of Lamedon march with me to lift this shadow of evil from our land and the world?'
When the king had spoken, the hall grew still and it was as if a chill vapor out of the east had filled the chamber. Ingold drew his cloak about his shoulders and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
'Please do not misunderstand my hesitation, Sire,' he said finally. 'It is not that we shrink from a fight, or from helping our friends. But we heard years ago that the Alliance had broken the Morannon and encircled the Dark Tower. We rejoiced at your triumphs and looked daily for messengers flying up from the lowlands with the news of your final victory. But that is more than six years ago now. If the mighty armies of the Elves and the Dunedain are unable to force him out, what can this small army hope to accomplish? In truth, Sire, is victory still possible against so mighty a foe?'
Isildur studied Ingold closely. Ohtar again saw that dark glint of suspicion in Isildur's eyes. He leaned forward. 'He is strong beyond your dreams,' he said. 'He is neither Man nor Elf. If truth, we do not even know if it is possible for him to be slain. But we too have our powers. The mighty magic and ancient strength of the Elves is at our side. Gil-galad of the Elves bears his mighty spear Aeglos, Snowpoint the Bright, forged in Gondolin an age ago, doomed by great spells to be Sauron's Bane. And beside Gil-galad stands my father Elendil the Tall, High King of the Realms in Exile and he wields Narsil Flameheart, the blade that none may withstand. They lead the warriors of Gondor and Arnor and the Elves of Lindon, and our friends of many other lands beside. If there be any in Middle-earth in these later days who might best the Dark Lord, these be they.
'And yet the balance is close. It is our hope that a cunning stroke, unlooked for, might yet carry the day. To this end the Kings have sent me throughout the provinces to seek out brave men wherever they can be found who will aid us in this our hour of greatest need.'
Ingold stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'You say you have come from Erech in the land of Romach. They are a strong and bold people, yet I do not see the banner of the Eredrim in your host. Did you not meet with Romach?'
The king's eyes searched those of Ingold intently. He did not like this hesitation. Perhaps the men of Calembel too would prove unwilling. He spoke sternly. 'The Eredrim swore allegiance to me a century ago when
