first I came to this land. Now when I call them to fulfill their oath, they refuse. They have become willing tools of the Enemy. I have laid a doom upon them, and they are lost both to us and to hope. I urge you to have no further dealings with them. But enough of the faithless Eredrim. Now what of the men of Lamedon? Are you allies of Elendil or of Sauron?'
Ingold met the king's gaze levelly. Then he suddenly rose to his feet and swept out his sword with a ringing clang. Ohtar started and his hand dropped beneath the table to his hilt, but the king made no move. Then Ingold turned the sword in his hand and offered the hilt to Isildur.
'Isildur King,' he cried in a loud voice, 'we are your subjects and your friends! The men of Lamedon shall ride with you wheresoever you lead, yea, even unto death!' At this the men of Lamedon rose as one and raised their swords. 'For Isildur!' they cried, 'For Isildur and Gondor.'
Then Isildur rose too and smiled at them. 'You are brave men and loyal friends. Glad will I be to have you at my side.' He raised his cup in salute to the soldiers. 'But I pray that I lead you not to death, but to victory. But for now, it will be neither. We are bound now only to Linhir and thence to Pelargir. My folk must ride as soon as they are fed and rested. Ingold, I would have you muster as many men as you can spare and join us in Linhir three days hence. But I pray you, leave a capable garrison at Tarlang's Neck, for Romach is no longer to be trusted. I doubt that he will attack, but this Lamedon of yours is a fair land and I would not have it fall into evil hands.'
'Nor I, Sire,' answered Ingold. 'It shall be done as you command. Messengers shall be dispatched to every corner of Lamedon this very hour. And the ancient watchtowers above the Neck shall be manned again, as has not been since the dark days ere you Dunedain brought peace to the southern shores. But the time is short and we are not a numerous people. I fear we cannot raise more than a few hundreds.'
'I have seen this day an example of the valor of your people. If all are as these in Calembel, your hundreds shall be worth thousands of the enemy. To Linhir, then, and may success crown our alliance.' Isildur turned to depart, but Ingold spoke again.
'A moment more, Sire, if you please. If haste is required, perhaps I can be of some further help. Your army is afoot and travels but slowly. The men of Ringlo away in the south are our brothers. In the great green valley of the Gilrain too live many stout folk who bear no love for Sauron's orcs. It would take you days to travel to all the settlements. Let me send riders to Ethring and to the hill men who live nigh to the sources of the Ringlo. We can ask them to join us in Linhir.'
The king clapped his hand on Ingold's shoulder. 'I see you have more than your courage and strong right arm to offer us. Let it be done as you suggest. We shall wait in Linhir for two days to gather our new forces. My thanks to you, Ingold of Calembel. Now, Ohtar, let us ride.'
Within the hour the army was assembled without the walls. As they set out, horsemen thundered from the gate and galloped past the column and down the long hill toward Ethring. Others wheeled as they left the gates and spurred their mounts up the steep slopes to the north and east. The great drum of Calembel boomed and rolled in the hollows of the hills, and from the high meadows came back, shrill and faint, the horns of shepherds and cotsmen. As they topped a rise, Isildur turned in his saddle and looked back at the great tilted green bowl of Lamedon with little Calembel nestled at its lip.
'A pleasant place, is it not, Ohtar?' he said as they rode on. 'Oftimes I think I might have been a happier man had I been born a goatherd in such a place as this. Then would many-towered Osgiliath be but a fair name in travellers' tales, and the Enemy but a shadow with which to frighten unruly children. I would tend my goats and raise my family in peace, and let the world and its cares pass by unmarked on the road below. It would not be a bad life.'
'But Sire,' objected Ohtar. 'If you were not a king then you would not have your faithful squire at your side. Would you have me go back to scratching at the unforgiving rocks of the Emyn Arnen for a living?'
Isildur gave his great laugh. 'No, no, that would never do. I fear we must all fulfill whatever is our doom.'
At that moment they spied a very large man hurrying down a precipitous path to the road before them. He wore the hides of a herdsman and his matted beard and bristling brows jutted from beneath a close-fitting goatskin cap pulled down over his ears. In one calloused hand he bore a massive spear, its wooden point blackened by fire. He scrambled down the bank in a slither of rock and stood blocking the road. A fierce and determined barbarian he looked, with his bare legs spread wide beneath his tunic of stained skins. As the van of the column approached he called out in a booming voice.
'Stand! The drums of war call in Calembel and I answer to find armed strangers in the land. Tell me quickly: are you friends or foes of Lamedon?'
Isildur raised his hand, halting the column. The men stared at the man in some astonishment, but the king answered him civilly enough. 'We are friends of this land and its people. We have just come from an interview with your Master Ingold,' he said.
The giant stood unmoving in the road and his gaze took in the king from helm to hoof. At last he grunted. 'Aye,' he said. 'I believe you. You may pass.' He stood aside.
'We thank you, yeoman, for your trust,' said the king, spurring Fleetfoot forward. The line marched forward again. 'And the drums call the men of Lamedon to war against the powers of the east. We go now to fight the Enemy.'
The herdsman looked up the road toward Calembel. 'I will go then,' he said. 'They may need my help.' He strode off up the road with never a glance at the long column of armed men marching past.
Isildur turned to Ohtar and answered his grin with his own. 'Stalwart men, these herdsmen of Lamedon. I wonder what he would have done if I had said we were foes. Did you see the size of him? He is nearly a giant.'
'Have I not told you, Sire, never to underestimate us hill folk?'
'Aye, have you not, endlessly,' he sighed.
The road slanted down across the wide shoulder of the mountains. Now and again it dipped into a dell where a rocky stream tumbled noisily beneath pine and aspen. At one especially deep chasm the road leaped across on a high stone bridge of many arches. On the parapet crouched misshapen stone figures covered in orange and green lichen, rounded by ages of weather. They were stubby fat seated figures with crossed legs and hands. They seemed human and yet undefinably alien, and they were ancient. They were hewn by a folk who had disappeared so long ago that they were forgotten even to legend, save as a single word: Pukel. They were gone without a trace, save for a handful of huge bridges, causeways, and viaducts scattered about in the higher, more remote valleys. And all were sound yet, most in daily use. What was their world like, that they should expend such energies building excellent roads in an age when all other ways in Middle-earth were but animal trails. But the Pukel-men had disappeared before ever the fathers of the Edain had come to the shores of Middle-earth. What manner of folk they were, whence they had come and whither gone, none could guess. Perhaps even the silent stones had forgotten.
On the second day from Calembel they descended with many turnings into the valley of the Ringlo. On the banks of that river they came to Ethring, a small settlement consisting of only a few rough dwellings clustered at the fords. As they entered the town, a small crowd gathered and cheered their progress. Noticing that most were women and children, Isildur stopped and beckoned an old farmwife holding a child by the hand.
They both came shyly forward to stand beside the huge black charger, clearly in awe of the stern dark man towering above them. The toddler stared up wide-eyed. But the king smiled kindly down.
'Good people, be not afraid of us. We will neither harm you nor rob you.'
Her wrinkled face broke into a smile.
'Oh, I know that, Sire. A rider from Calembel dashed through yesterday, and now all the menfolk are riding about the hills, spreading the alarm. He said you were coming, and I wanted the boy to see you.' She bent down to the boy now examining the mailed foot in a jeweled stirrup just above his head.
'Uri, this is a real king.' The boy looked up and for the first time met the eyes of the knight on the horse.
'My name is Isildur,' said the king. The boy only stared, and the woman laughed.
'Welcome to Ethring, my lord,' she said. 'Tomorrow midday should see two hundred ready to ride to Linhir, if you please, sir.'
