Isildur

around the Ered Nimrais, mustering all the fighting men we could gather. But we are not alone. Even as we left Gorgoroth on this long journey, others were setting out on another, far longer, journey. Gildor Inglorion, one of the greatest of the Elvish captains, rode north at the bidding of his lord Gil-galad. He was to ride north, to seek aid in the lands of Lothlorien and Khazad-dum. From thence he was to ride to Cirdan the Shipwright at Mithlond. Gil- galad's orders to Cirdan were to put the White Fleet in readiness and to sail to Osgiliath at once with every ship that can swim.'

'But could he have reached Mithlond already?' asked Guthmar. 'That is four hundred leagues at least.'

'It is two months and more since we departed from the Barad-dur together, and Elves ride very swiftly at need. Gildor was told to make all haste, so that they should be at Osgiliath for the Council. They should be sighted any day.'

'But this is news good beyond all hope,' cried Heleth, her lovely smile breaking out for the first time. 'To think that Elves would sail all that long way for our help. Elves! I have never even seen one of the Firstborn. Elves to guard us! Oh, I feel as if a weight has been lifted from me!'

'Aye,' said Barathor. 'With the Elves beside us, we would fear no enemy.' But he gave Isildur a canny glance. 'But they were not summoned here to protect Pelargir. I suspect the Alliance had other plans for Cirdan's Sea- Elves. Is that not so, Sire?'

Isildur nodded. 'The Lords of the Alliance had thought to send the Elves against Mordor with us. But in truth they are more used to decks beneath their feet than deserts. With the Corsairs abroad again, they could be better employed guarding the coast and defending the Anduin. Then if Pelargir were freed of those duties….' He looked meaningfully at Barathor.

Barathor looked at his captains, judging their reactions as he spoke. 'I say unto you, Sire,' he said, 'that if the White Fleet is as mighty as legends tell, and if they were deployed across the mouths of Anduin and at strategic points along the coast, we would feel more secure than we have in many a long year. Then the men of Pelargir would flock to your banner and follow you to the ends of the earth if need be.'

His men cheered long and lustily. Isildur realized how torn they had been between their duty to their king and their duty to their city and their families. Freed at last of the fear of the Corsairs, they were eager to go to the aid of their country. He looked on their faces with affection.

'Then you will ride with me when Cirdan arrives?' he asked, and every man in the hall rose to his feet and shouted his allegiance. Isildur was truly touched.

But Barathor was clearly still worried. 'This messenger Gildor you spoke of, his road was long and perilous,' he said, 'and Cirdan's course no less so. As seamen, we all know that the winds and seas play havoc with a schedule. Much could have befallen them that would make them late. I could not recall the fleet until the Elves arrive.'

'But we cannot wait,' said Isildur. 'Many preparations must be made if you are to ride with me. And Cirdan may arrive only in time for the Council of Osgiliath. If we wait until he arrives it will be too late for us to march to Osgiliath. Can you not at least start the muster?'

Barathor thought for a moment. 'This much I can do, Sire. I will call the fleet back within the Anduin and withdraw them from the coasts and the Bay of Belfalas. The coastal settlements will like it not, but with luck they will be safe for a few days. With all the ships in the River I could recall them all in less than a day when the Elves arrive. In the meantime we shall begin the muster. We will be ready to ride with you as soon as the Elves are in place.'

'So be it,' said Isildur, much relieved.

Barathor turned to a tall dark man near at hand. 'Telemnar!' he called. 'Send the signals. All outlying ships are to be recalled. Let those patrolling off the Ethir Anduin withdraw into the River. I want only four scouts patrolling the bay, the fastest vessels you have. Have the best lookouts at the mastheads. When the Elves are sighted, they are to be contacted at once and instructed in Isildur's orders. See that they array themselves in sufficient strength and order at the Ethir, then all ships are to return to Pelargir with all possible speed.' The man bowed and hurried away.

'Duitirith! Let heralds be sent to every corner of our realm. Every man capable of fighting is to arm himself and come to Pelargir as soon as possible. We shall ride to war with our king!'

* * *

For the next three days the city was a hive of activity. Merchants and townsmen were turning over their businesses and duties to their wives or to men too old or too young to go to the war. Companies of soldiers marched in from border checkpoints and strongholds along the banks of Anduin. Other groups marched up from the River, their rolling gait revealing them as seamen from the ships lying at the quays. Wagons and trains of loaded beasts passed in from all directions. The markets were frantically trying to meet the demand for food, weapons, clothing and blankets. Small groups of farmers and fishermen from the surrounding villages started arriving, mingling with the crowds in the streets and adding to the confusion. But still there was no word of the Elves.

On the third morning Isildur and Ohtar walked through the city streets to see Barathor. As they crossed one of the city's many large squares, they stopped to watch a ragged company of adolescent boys marching back and forth. Sweating heavily and wearing armor a size too large for them, they were being drilled in basic military maneuvers by a bellowing and exasperated old soldier.

'Step lively, there!' he shouted. 'Try to at least look like soldiers, you young fools. Watch where you're marching! Within a week you'll be manning the walls, and I don't want you falling off the battlements!' Isildur and Ohtar smiled to each other and hurried on.

The Hall of the Blue Tower was crowded with messengers, supplicants, and people just seeking instructions. Barathor and his people were swamped with questions, decisions, and disputes. One of the greatest needs was for messengers. All the usual heralds and runners had been pressed into service, but still Barathor grew frustrated waiting for replies or for someone to carry his orders. As Isildur approached the Lord, a young boy no more than ten or twelve raced past him and fell to his knee before the Lord.

'More messages, Lord Barathor?' he gasped. Barathor thrust a paper into the boy's hand. 'Yes. Take this to Carlen, the master of the wainwright's guild. Put it in his hand, mind, not that of one of his apprentices. You know his hall?'

'Yes, lord,' replied the boy. 'It is in the Rath Gelin, near to the square of the lion fountain.' He was panting, still out of breath from running his last errand.

'Yes. Make haste now.' Barathor stopped and looked down at the boy. 'Haven't I given you several messages already today?'

'Yes, lord,' he gulped. 'Four so far. I have been running since before the dawn.'

'Here now, that's more than four hours gone. You must be exhausted, poor child. Rest a while and get something to eat. Let another boy carry this one.' He glanced around for another runner, but there were none present at the moment.

'Please, my lord,' the boy pleaded. 'I can run all day if need be. I want to help. My dad says I'm too young to fight this time, and then the war is likely to be all over before I get my chance. Well, I'll do what I can to help anyway, but I'd dearly love to meet that old Dark Lord. I'd give him a whack, I can tell you. He'd be sorry he ever peeked over those mountains.'

Some of those standing near smiled, but Barathor looked at him gravely. 'Well,' he said. 'I see you are rather greater than we first thought. The Dark Lord had better hope he doesn't have to tangle with you. Go on then. But save your pretty speeches; you'll need all your breath for running.' The boy ran out, glowing with pride.

Barathor spotted Isildur and came to meet him. 'Good morning, Sire,' he said. 'The recall flag has been hoisted at all the signal stations along the coasts. Some of the scattered ships are starting to straggle in, but many are still far down the River. The first will not be in until late tonight.'

'How large a force are you keeping at the Mouths of Anduin?'

'We normally have between ten and twenty ships stationed in the Bay of Belfalas and patrolling the coast between Ringlond and Harondor, and that many again as pickets in the River. You know the Ethir Anduin is a maze of islands and treacherous channels, and we need that many to keep them all secure. I plan to leave but half of them on station. That will leave them spread thin indeed until the Elves arrive. Ah, here comes my son. He is to rule the city in my absence, you know.'