abide there much longer than he had thought, for I have read their weird and laid their fate. They shall remain forever in their holds, to death and beyond, until they fulfill their oath.' And he fell silent, grim and thoughtful.
Then did the company look upon their king with wonder. Again they were reminded of the strangeness and power of this man from the far places of the lost West. Those that knew him best read his grim eyes and saw the anger that burned there. This treachery of the Eredrim had struck deep, the last and cruelest blow to all his plans for victory. The Lords of the Alliance had expected a great host to be in his train by the time he reached Pelargir, and for many more to join him here. And they had placed their greatest hopes in the Eredrim. He thought of Malithor with his proud heritage and bearing, meanly performing Sauron's errands, and his fist clenched on his wine horn.
Then Isildur became aware of the long silence that had fallen on the company and their fearful stares as they looked on him.
'But enough of sad tales and the litany of our woes,' he said. 'No more shall we bear the insults of our enemies. The time for a final stroke approaches. The need is great and the time is short. My Lord Barathor, I have need of all the men and supplies of war that you can spare.'
Barathor stared down at the table and paused long before replying. 'I had expected your request, Sire, and I burn with shame at the reply I must give. I can offer you perhaps five hundred stout yeomen, my liege. More we cannot spare.'
'Five hundred?' exclaimed the king in dismay. 'But I need ten times that number. Barathor, you know well our need.'
Barathor looked up sadly and held out his empty hands. 'My king, I can give you food, arms, and a few of the other supplies you require. But I cannot give you what you most request of me. Some six thousand of our men marched with Belrund to join your father at Dagorlad. That is seven years past now and still they have not returned. They are sorely missed, for we are threatened on every side and continuously harassed. We are a large city with broad and productive fields and many villages round about. We are spread thin to protect what we have. And we are charged with the guard of the bridge, and of the Great River as well. Our fleet patrols the myriad channels of the Ethir Anduin and all the coast as far as the rockbound shores of Linhir. We can barely hold our own with fifty ships afloat, and all sorely undermanned. My captains are constantly begging me for more men, but there are none to spare.
'Our men are needed here in Pelargir, my liege, or the Gate of the South will be but an open door to our enemies. With a reduced force we could perhaps hold the bridge and beat back the orc raids, but we dare not reduce the fleet or I could not answer for the safety of the Anduin. As you yourself told us, the Corsairs are abroad. They could come up the River at any time. If Pelargir falls, it is but a short sail to Osgiliath herself. It will be to no avail for us to ride to victory in Mordor, only to find all of Gondor in the hands of the Corsairs upon our return.'
Isildur looked hard at the Lord of Pelargir. 'Barathor, we have been friends for many years. There has never been deceit between us. I know that you speak truly and that the safety of Pelargir and indeed all of Gondor is your only concern. But I say unto you that final victory or defeat will come in the next few weeks. Victory may be within our grasp, but only if we act now in a concerted stroke. The Alliance is in dire need of your aid. Gil-galad and my father considered all the options carefully, and well they know the dangers you face. But they felt that the risk must be taken. Without your assistance, we have but little hope. The fate of the West is in your hands. I tell you in all candor that the situation in Mordor is grave beyond your reckoning.'
'Grave no doubt, but is the Dark Lord not shut up within his Tower? You at least know where your foe is and can turn a united face against him. But we have foes on every hand and must guard all the ways at once. You are in a position of power in Gorgoroth, while we can do little but wait for an unseen blow to fall.'
Isildur nodded. 'We encircle the Barad-dur, it is true, but think not that Sauron is our prisoner. We are as much his. The Tower is impregnable, we have learned that to our cost. We can neither enter in nor force him out. And the long siege is no hardship to him. His slaves and his resources are unlimited and time has no meaning for such as he, who has lived through long ages of the earth. He waits in comfort in his own halls, while we endure in the desert, fighting and dying every day and growing the weaker for it. Seven years! Seven years, lords, and we are no nearer victory than when we first saw that accursed Tower. The truth is, my friends, that we cannot defeat him with the forces we have. A new weapon must be brought to bear on him, a new army to attack where and when he does not expect it. I can say no more at this time, but it is my errand to gather all available men for this assault. Other forces too are gathering at Osgiliath for a great council on Midsummer's Day. There all will be revealed. I have scoured half of Middle-earth and been thwarted at every turn. Pelargir is our last hope. There are no others to be called upon.'
Barathor sat with anguish writ plain upon his face. 'Isildur, my king, do I not love you as a brother? Does my heart not grieve for your many tragedies? It pains me to have you think me either disloyal or shy of combat. My wealth, my honor, my life will I gladly give for you. But you ask the one thing I cannot give — I cannot give you my city, for it is not mine to give. It belongs to its people and to their ancestors who died for it, and to their descendants who would live here in peace. If I sent them to war with you, Isildur, they would almost certainly find no city upon their return. Is this then what you demand?'
Isildur stared long at him, but then he touched his arm gently, saying, 'I do not doubt either the loyalty or the courage of you or Pelargir, Barathor. I know all too well the perils you face. I know you are acting as your conscience demands.' He sat a while in deep and gloomy thought, then looked again at his friend.
'But perhaps there is yet a way. Other events are occurring across the wide face of Middle-earth that may yet resolve your dilemma.' He leaned close to whisper in the lord's ear. 'Barathor, would you trust all in this hall with knowledge that could mean life or death to Pelargir and even all of Gondor?'
Barathor looked about the table, eyes searching each face. Then he nodded. 'There is no danger here, Sire. All are friends or kinsmen and their loyalty is long proven.'
Isildur nodded. He turned and addressed the company. 'Then I may entrust to you a secret known to none but myself and the Lords of the Alliance, and that must not become known to the Enemy or we are all lost.
'You say you need your men to guard the Great River against the Corsairs. But what if the River were guarded by others, if you could be certain that no pirates could slip up it? Could you not then grant my request?'
The company stared at him in amazement. Duitirith was the first to find his voice. 'But Sire, it is not just the count of men that guard the River, but the many strong ships and experienced seamen to sail and fight them. You cannot replace them with soldiers or farmers. What force save our own could guard the River? Is this a jest?'
'Isildur does not jest in such things, Duitirith,' said his father. 'I say unto you, Isildur, that if the River were guarded, and guarded, mind you, so well that none could pass despite their numbers, then we would fear no attack. Our walls and the bridge are strong. A few hundred picked men could hold them at need against a far stronger foe. But the River is the weak point in our shield wall. There is no other fleet in all of Middle-earth mighty enough to stop the Corsairs if they should come in force.'
Isildur smiled grimly. 'None other? What of the White Fleet of Lindon?'
'The Elves?' stammered Duitirith. 'But… Elves sailing in these waters? Oft have we heard the tales of the mighty Sea-Elves of Lindon, but never in the memory of our oldest grandsires has a swan ship breasted the seas of the south. In truth, many of us have come to believe they are but figures in the old stories. But they are said to be legendary sailors and mighty warriors.'
'If the tales be true,' said Barathor, 'they are mighty indeed. But the tales also tell us the Grey Havens are far, far to the north, a ride of many weeks or even months away. And even if they were willing and able to come to our aid immediately, it would take weeks to prepare and provision their ships and a fortnight more at least to sail here. If a rider left today we could not hope to see them before mid-winter. Even then we would have to recall all our ships and gather and organize the seamen and then ride to Osgiliath. And yet you say you want us in Osgiliath on Midsummer's Day, and that is but a week away.'
Isildur was nodding his head. 'All that you say is true, my lords,' he said. 'And yet I say unto you, people of Pelargir,' and he raised his voice so all could hear, 'that even as we speak here tonight, the White Fleet of Lindon is at sea, and should now be approaching the Mouths of Anduin.'
The hall erupted in confusion, with everyone speaking at once. 'The Elves?' 'Did he say the Elves were coming here?' 'But… but…,' stammered Barathor. 'But how could this be?'
Isildur held up his hand for silence, and the tumult gradually subsided. 'You know that we have ridden
