"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 Nórui, 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….'