Isildur Page 8

  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."

  "My thanks and long life to you, good woman," Isildur replied. "It does please me indeed. The heralds of Calembel have done their work well, it would seem. My blessing and my thanks to the town of Ethring," he called, and the people cheered and called out good wishes as they passed.

  * * *

  From Ethring the road turned south and climbed a steep ridge. It was the last rolling outlier of the mighty Ered Nimrais, now gleaming white in the north far behind them. Their peaks were lost in caps of grey cloud.

  The army camped that night in the saddle between two rounded peaks. As they broke camp in the morning, the sun rose out of a haze in the east and cast long rays across the broad land of Lebennin at their feet. It was a land of undulating hills and green fields, with copses of oak and vanella. Streams meandered among cottonwoods as the land gradually flattened until, away to the south, they fell away to meet the distant gleam of the sea. Here and there thin columns of smoke rose vertically in the still air, marking isolated cottages hidden in the folds of the land. The road broadened as it descended from the hills, and the land became more settled. The men marched now between hedgerows. People rushed across the fields to stare and wave as they passed.

  They pressed on and covered many leagues on the good road. At dusk they camped on a greensward by a homestead whose folk were most kind and helpful. When the men woke in the morning, crying gulls were circling above, heralding the sea at last. They hurried on, spirits rising as they saw on every hand the signs of many men preparing to join them. Just before evening, they came to Linhir near the mouth of the Gilrain.

  It was a sizable town with no wall, but large earthworks had been thrown up around it. The triple ramparts were arranged in the shape of a star, so that a foe assaulting one part of the wall must expose his back to another. The mounds were not overly high, but very steep on the outer side, and their crests hid trenches for the defenders. Their inner sides were gently sloped so that if one rampart were taken its defenders could fall back to the next. Within the inmost rampart lay a wide moat with but a single bridge cunningly devised so it could be turned by a great windlass. These defenses had been thrown up but a few years before against the pirates who had started again to raid the coast.

  The Gilrain at this point was wide and swift but not deep, easily crossed at many points near the town. But at the spring flood tides a sizable bore rushes up the river and well past the town to the confluence of the Serni, and woe then to any traveller caught in the fords.

  On this day the people of Linhir were lining the ramparts to greet their king. The column clattered across the wooden bridge and entered the city, and women leaned from upper windows to throw garlands to the king. One caught on the wing of his helmet and he laughed and threw it back up at the giggling girl who had dropped it.

  In the center of the town they came to a large open court, and there they were met by an old gray-bearded man in a long blue robe, wearing a massive silver medallion about his neck.

  "Greetings, Isildur King!" he cried in a loud but quavering voice. "I am Guthmar, Elder of Linhir and keeper of the Ethir Anduin. We have had already tidings out of Lamedon and we know your errand. Know you that for two days the men have been gathering for your muster. The people of Lebennin are with you, Sire, and all our resources are at your disposal. Welcome to Linhir."

  Isildur dismounted and clasped his hand. "A fair speech and a fair city, Elder Guthmar. It is long indeed since last I visited Linhir and it is a joy to find it as fair, and as loyal, as I recalled it. May you and yours prosper forever."

  Guthmar bowed his head and led them into his hall, a long stone room with a high arched ceiling and columned galleries on either side. They looked about them with wonder, for the walls above the galleries were lined with immense tapestries. The hangings were wondrous to look upon, alive with gulls and rocky coastlines and the colors of sea and sky. All were beautiful, but Ohtar's eye was caught by the largest, which hung at the far end of the hall behind a great carved oak table set with many candles.

  The huge tapestry was also blue and grey, but it was shot with many glistening gold threads too, and it showed a towering city on a rugged precipice high above an azure bay. Pines lined the cliffs and from the shapely towers pennants fluttered in a stiff sea breeze. Ohtar turned to Guthmar in amazement.

  "What a magnificent scene! Can that be a mortal place, Elder, or is it some artist's dream of deathless Avallónë?" Guthmar smiled and opened his mouth to reply, but to their surprise it was Isildur instead who answered.

  "That place was all too mortal, Ohtar. It is Rómenna, a great haven of Númenor that is no more. Mark you that shady strand there beneath the leaning trees? It is said that Elros Peredhil, founder of Númenor and of my line, first set foot on the island of Elenna at that place when the New Age was young.

  "Ah, Rómenna, fairest of the cities of Men, would I could walk your fair broad streets again. But now only the octopus treads those stones and schools of fish dart through the open windows of those towers. O city that gave me birth, would that I could return the gift and bring you again to life. But alas, even Osgiliath, that I tried to build in your image, is fair no more, but despoiled. But not for ever, I swear it." His eyes roamed from detail to detail of the vast image, but they were filled with sadness.

  Guthmar clapped for his servants. "My lord, I am sorry, I did not think… I will have it covered." But Isildur waved away the pages who were hurrying forward. "No, Guthmar, it is not necessary. It brings me pain, it is true, but it is a sweet pang indeed to see Rómenna again, as I thought I never should. But how comes it here?"

  "The work was done long ago by Fornen, our city's greatest artisan. Linhir was founded by Númenórean mariners, as were Pelargir and Anglond, and even Umbar far to the south, though the last has fallen from her former glory. Though there are few here now with pure Dúnadan blood, still we look with pride to our Númenórean heritage. Fornen lived in Rómenna before he emigrated here. In his old age he created this tapestry, working solely from memory."

  "From memory?" exclaimed Isildur. "I dwelt in that city for thirty years and I could not recall all those towers, yet I swear they were just as the artist depicted them. This image must be old indeed, for it shows only two quays in the harbor, yet a third was twice an hundred years old when I was a boy there. This tapestry of yours is priceless, Guthmar. Protect it well."

  "It is guarded both day and night, Sire, for it is our most prized heirloom. It is said that while it endures the kingdom will be safe."

  "Then may your guards never sleep, good Elder, for we have need of every help in these troubled times."

  Then they went to table and food was set before them. When they had supped, Guthmar asked after their journey. He was dismayed to learn of the Corsairs' attack upon Anglond, for Linhir lived always in fear of their raids, and Anglond was a far stronger city, though further from the protection of the fleet of Gondor at Pelargir.

  "And so Anglond feared to send its men with you, my king?" he exclaimed. "I can little blame them, for our watchmen, too, are always watching for the black sails at the horizon. Still, we will offer you what men we can spare. But tell me, Sire, did the men of Anfalas not rise to your banner?"

  Isildur shook his head sadly. "Alas, no. And that is the most dire news of all, Elder Guthmar. On the second day of N
órui, we departed Anglond, bound south over the hills of the Pinnath Gelin. In the afternoon of the third day we reached the long deep-cleft valley of Nanbrethil, where the road crests the hills and begins to fall away to Anfalas. There we spied coming toward us a ragged band of people, men and women, young and old. They were afoot and plodded slowly, though they bore no baggage. Then one of the women raised her eyes, saw us, and gave a shriek of terror. The others saw us and scattered, the women clambering into the rocks on either side of the road, the men drawing their swords and forming a line across the road. There was grim determination in their eyes, but not a glimmer of hope. We moved forward cautiously, making no hostile sign. They stood their ground against our much greater numbers, their knuckles white on their sword hilts. We halted at a small distance. I raised my arm in greeting, but at the same moment one of the strangers cried out.

  "'The White Tree!' He turned to a large man beside him, clutching his shoulder and pointing. 'Look, Turgon! See you their banner? They bear the Tree of Gondor!'

  "And I called out, 'You see before you both Gondor's Tree and her King, for I am Isildur Elendilson, and if you be friends of that land you have nothing to fear from us.'

  "Then the men sheathed their swords and called their women forth. They seemed greatly relieved but I saw no smiles nor signs of gladness at our meeting. I spoke to the large man, who was wearing rich clothes, though much torn and stained. 'You are called Turgon?' I asked. 'Of what city are you?'

  "He gave me a hard look. 'Of no city, my lord,' he answered grimly, and one of the women turned away with a stifled sob.

  "I was much puzzled by this answer. 'You are not dressed as country folk. Surely you come from Ethir Lefnui or some other city in these parts.'

  "Turgon replied tight-lipped. 'We are the people of Ethir Lefnui, but there is no city of that name.'

  "Those of my people standing near cried out. 'No Ethir Lefnui? Is he mad?'

  "A young man beside Turgon fell to his knees, his sword fallen unheeded into the dust. 'Turgon speaks true,' he wailed. 'They have destroyed our city. Ethir Lefnui is dead. Its gardens are desert, its fields burned, its very walls thrown down. They have murdered our lord, they have slain our friends and families, they have destroyed our temples and holy places. We are homeless, we are penniless, we are dead!' He pressed his face to the ground and sobbed into the dust.

  "We gazed at him in pity and horror, but his companions looked on with eyes devoid of emotion as the boy sobbed out his anguish. Turgon looked at me.

  "'He saw his father, mother, and two sisters slaughtered, He was not discovered and they died relatively swift deaths. Others here were not so fortunate.' I looked from face to face and read the horrors writ there by a cruel hand.

  "'Lefnui gone?' I cried. 'But your walls were high and your people numerous and valiant. Surely there are not orcs enough in all the Ered Nimrais to cast down so great a city.'

  "'Orcs, my lord?' said a tall man, stepping forward angrily. 'It was not orcs that did this, but Men. Men of high lineage and claiming brave Elros as their Sire. Dúnedain, my lord, like unto yourself!' His eyes flashed as he spat out these words and I thought for a moment he was going to strike at me, but Turgon caught his arm.

  "'Forgive him, my lord. He is nearly out of his mind with grief, he knows not what he says. It was the Corsairs, my lord, the men of Umbar, may they rot for the deed.'

  "Then I cast back my cloak and dismounted before them. 'Do I look a pirate to you, yeoman? The Corsairs are indeed Dúnedain, but my line was severed from theirs a long age ago. My ancestors, the Faithful lords of Andúnië, came among you thousands of years ago and founded Pelargir on Anduin. That city has always been your friend and ally. They brought peace and prosperity to a land that had never known them in all the deeps of time before. Why, it was we Faithful who helped you to raise Ethir Lefnui in the Dark Years when all the rest of Middle-earth was but a wilderness peopled by roving bands of barbarians.

  "'Aye, the Corsairs are Dúnedain as you say, but they were touched long ago by the hand and mind of the Enemy, and they have been turned to evil. They have done little for the Uialedain of Middle-earth but raid and pillage and enslave you. The rape of Ethir Lefnui is not due to Númenórean blood, but to the evil designs of Sauron.

  "'But still I say I am proud of my heritage. My family has brought unity and many years of peace to all the lands of the West. We have long been friends and allies to the Uialedain. Let us not allow our common enemies to divide us now, when our need is greatest.'

  "The man stared open-mouthed, then stepped back a pace and stammered, 'Forgive me, my lord. I… I….'

  "'I know. You have lost much and borne much. I know what it is to lose your homeland utterly. I know what it is to see your loved ones slain. You are sorely wronged and you wish to strike back against those who have done this to you. But turn that rage upon the proper enemy. Let Sauron feel your vengeance, not we who share your pain. Ride with me now and together we will return the blows he has dealt us.'

  "The man bent his head. 'My lord,' he said through clenched teeth. 'I will serve you to the end.' Then Turgon held aloft his sword and cried, 'And I, my king.' And his fellows followed him, making a brave but pitiable sight.

  "I called Turgon to me then. 'We had planned to go next to Lefnui and thence to Ringlond. Might there not be others of your people still at Lefnui? Did you search the city thoroughly?' But he shook his head grimly. 'Naught lives there now, save the lizards and the rats. The thrice-cursed pirates leveled the city until stone no longer stood upon stone. That which was Ethir Lefnui is dead. Even the memory of the city is poisoned for us. If we ever rebuild it shall be in some other place and it shall bear another name.'

  "I nodded, understanding his feelings. 'So be it then,' I said. "Thus passes a fair city of Men.' Turning then to my esquire, I said, 'We shall not take the South Road then, but bear away to the east immediately and follow the skirts of the mountains to Erech in the valley of the Morthond. Our journey will thereby be shortened by near a hundred leagues and we may yet come to Osgiliath by the appointed time. Curse the Umbardrim for traitors! I had thought to have gathered a mighty army by this time, but we have but few more than we started with two months ago.'

  "This is grim tidings indeed, Sire," said Guthmar. "The people of Anfalas, and especially the weavers of Ethir Lefnui, have long been our friends. It is hard to believe that they are gone."

  "Nonetheless," said Isildur, "all that remain of that people are in my camp without your walls."

  "I will see that my people give them special care and attention," said Guthmar, and he gave such orders at once. He and Isildur sat late and talked of olden times and the deeds of mighty folk of the past. Guthmar was an avid student of the lore of the elder days. His knowledge was great, and Isildur loved nothing better than to share his interest in the past.

  They told each other tales of the heros of old: of Tuor and Barahir and Eärendil the Mariner. They talked of famous lovers: of Beren One-hand and Lúthien Tinúviel; of Idril and Tuor. There was much ale and laughter too, in which Ohtar took more interest, though he stayed close to Isildur. He noticed that as Guthmar spoke, the king's eyes strayed back to the magnificent tapestry above them. It was late before all were abed and the city quiet at last.

  * * *

  They passed the following morning in leisure, walking in Guthmar's rich orchards and watching parties of men riding into Linhir from all directions. They came in small groups, rarely numbering more than a score or two; hunters from the highlands of the Gilrain, bird-snarers from the marshes of the Ethir Anduin, and tillers and husbandmen from Dor-en-Ernil and the broad open lands about the river Serni. Then in the afternoon a larger column of horsemen rode in from the north, led by Ingold of Calembel, and Isildur went to meet him.

  "So you have come as promised, brave Ingold," he called as the men dismounted and were led to their place in the large camp before the city gates.

  "Aye, my lord, but I could find but five hun
dreds all told between Lamedon and here, and none are seasoned warriors, I fear. Many of our abler men mustered to the earlier call of your father and are with him yet in Gorgoroth. Too many of these new men are beardless youths, who were too young to follow Elendil in '30. They are as like as not to trip over their own swords. But they are strong and eager and will fight when the time comes."

  "You have done very well, Ingold. Courage and strength will stand a man in good stead in a battle, be it his first or his last. There are many more like them already in this camp, and more arriving each hour. Go you among them after you have encamped, and form them into companies according to the provinces from which they came. Have each company elect a leader to lead them in battle, one they will follow and who can keep his head when tumult is all around. Hopefully there is at least one experienced warrior in each company, and if the men know their lives will depend on him, we can trust their choice.

  "Then have each company make a standard for their province if they have not one, so they can march beneath the colors of their homeland. A trusted commander and a fluttering banner they can see will lend strength and resolve that may surprise the lads. A man fights the harder when he fights alongside his neighbors under the banner of his homeland. The sight reminds him of his home and loved ones for whom he fights. When all this is done, have each company commander come to the square in the center of the city in the twelfth hour tonight. I would address them.

  "Ohtar, you will take charge of the armaments. Speak to Guthmar and see if he can find arms enough for all the men. I see too many carrying hoes and pitchforks when swords or spears would serve them better. And pass the word to our own companies. The twelfth hour for the council."

  * * *

  That evening, as the sun turned the towers of Linhir a rose pink, Isildur met with his new lieutenants in the great square of Linhir. He wore the high helm of the Kings of the Realms in Exile, and Ohtar stood by his side bearing aloft the great standard of Gondor. When they appeared with Guthmar from the doors of his court, the assembled host gave a great cheer, for it seemed to them that they saw before them one of the great sea-kings of old. Isildur raised his hand to still the cheering and cried out loudly, his voice ringing across the square.