"The Lords of the West took counsel together to determine our course of action. It was a grim and desperate gathering, you may be sure. Many proposals were advanced, discussed, and abandoned. At last Gil-galad disclosed an idea he had been harboring in secret. 'If we cannot get into the Tower,' he said, 'then we must lure Sauron out.'
"We could not be certain, of course, but we hoped that we could best Sauron's forces in an even fight in the open. But our great fear is his other unconquered fortress, my own city of Minas Ithil, in the mountains of the Ephel Dúath. It is ruled now by the Nine Kings, the Úlairi. Their powers too are very great, for they bear the Nine Rings of Men, wrought long ago by the Noldor, but long since corrupted by Sauron's One Ring and brought under his dominion. The Nine are like blades at our backs. We must always keep a part of our forces stationed on the road to the Ephel Dúath, lest they fall on our backs. We have become actually two armies back to back, and the division greatly weakens each. We dare not throw our full weight against either fortress, for the other cannot be left unguarded behind us.
"Gil-galad's plan then was this: to raise a third army far from Mordor and the spying eyes of the Enemy; to bring this army secretly against Minas Ithil from the west; to wrest that city from the Úlairi before Sauron knows it is assailed. Then all three armies would join at the Barad-dûr. It was hoped that the loss of Minas Ithil and his most valued servants would so anger Sauron that he would become rash and venture forth against us. Stripped of his allies and his walls, he would be at his weakest and we at our strongest. There, on the plains of Gorgoroth, the doom of the world would be cast in a single mighty test of arms."
Isildur stopped and looked over the assembled lords. "It must be clear to you all by now that we gathered here are to be that third army. But before we talk of the coming campaign, let us hear how Gil-galad's plan was to be realized. The greatest difficulty, of course, was to somehow locate as many warriors as possible, recruit them in our cause, and bring them all to Osgiliath in secrecy. To that end, three messengers were sent forth from Mordor: Elrond Peredhil to Lothlórien and the Vales of Anduin; Gildor Inglorion to Eriador and Lindon; and I to the lands around the Ered Nimrais and Pelargir.
"Now let us hear how each has fared. I will rest now and let the others tell their tales. I will call first upon Elrond Peredhil, known as Halfelven. For those of you who know not of him, he is great among the wise and ancient ones. He is the son of Eärendil the Mariner, the greatest hero of the Elder Days. Elrond dwells in Imladris, a valley far to the north in the western slopes of the Misty Mountains, not far from my father's realm of Arnor. He has long been a friend and a help to us Exiles, for his brother was Elros, the founder of Númenor and of my own line, so he is a living ancestor to me and to many of us here. Welcome, Master Elrond. Please tell us of your journey here."
Isildur took his seat as Elrond stood, and the Men looked on the Elf with wonder, for he was ancient beyond their knowing, and his father was said to have been set in the sky as the Evening Star by Manwë himself. "We three couriers," began Elrond, "set out from Gorgoroth on the nineteenth day of Víressë. We rode together through the gates of the Morannon, which lay yet in ruin. We passed through the marshes of Dagorlad where so many of our people fell in the seige of the Morannon. We passed through the Brown Lands and crossed Anduin nigh to the Falls of Rauros. There we parted company, and Isildur turned west across the fens of Calenardhon. Gildor and I turned north and followed the west bank of the River to Lothlórien, the Land of the Golden Wood. There we took counsel with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel and received their pledge to join our cause, as they have now done." Elrond bowed to the Lord and Lady. "Gildor bided there but a short time before turning to the high road over the mountains. For my part, I continued north, travelling the length of the great forest of Taur Galen, called by Men Greenwood the Great, seeking always for friends to fight with us. I found several settlements of Men and sought their aid. I was received well, but all claimed that they could spare us no men, for they were often attacked by orcs and wolves and other fell creatures. Their lives were hard enough, and I did not press them further.
North of the confluence of the river Gladden, I came across a village of a small people of a race I knew not. To my knowledge they are not recorded in any of the ancient chronicles. They are as small as dwarves and like dwarves live beneath the ground, but with hair on their feet instead of their chins. They too welcomed me to their councils and heard my pleas, but they said they were a peaceful people and knew nothing of the arts of war. My arguments were unavailing, and I passed on.
I came at length to the realm of Thranduil, King of the Forest Elves, but he too was engaged in repelling frequent raids by orcs. His borders are weak and ill-defined, and he is hard-put to hold the margins of the forest. He has lost many of his Elves in the trackless deeps of the forest, where lurk orcs and great spiders and other dark things. He could spare no more than a score of his green-clad archers. I ranged throughout Rhovanion, but always the story was the same. The few people I met were all engaged in defending their own and could spare none for the 'Westman's War,' as they called it.
At length I returned to Lothlórien and helped Celeborn and his Elves to clear the foes from their borders as best they could. Then, leaving the realm in good order, we marched south and came at last to Osgiliath, arriving but yestermorn. All told we number nigh to four thousand, each a tried warrior, skilled with bow and spear. We offer our services to you, Isildur."
"Well said and well done, Master Elrond," said the king. "We had hoped many more would rally to us, but you have done all you could, and we are very grateful to you and the people of Lothlórien, and to you, my Lord and Lady. The Galadrim are welcome allies in these or any times.
"Now I would have the account of the second courier, Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod, aide to king Gil-galad. Gildor, what of your journey?"
Now Gildor stood and bowed to the king, and he looked very imposing in his blue and gilt armor and his long cape of cloth of gold.
"My Lords," he began, "many of you have travelled far to attend this council, but I wager that my road has been the longest. Like Master Elrond, I accomplished my task but brought far fewer than we hoped for that day in my king's tent in Gorgoroth.
"When I left Elrond at Caras Galadon in the Golden Wood, I climbed the Dimrill Stair to Nanduhirion, the high valley where lie the gates to the dwarvish city of Khazad-dûm. For those who do not know of it, there lies under the heart of the Misty Mountains a great underground city of the dwarves, delved by them in the Elder Days. Hall below hall, level below level, the earth is hollowed by their tunneling. At one time the Little People were more friendly with the Elves, and they bored a shaft through to the west side of the mountains to link their city with the land of Celebrimbor in Eregion. They traded with both Eregion and Lothlórien, and all profited thereby.
"But then Sauron's hordes swept out of the east and Eregion was attacked. Then the dwarves shut their gates and refused to have any part of the fight. Eregion was destroyed and Celebrimbor slain, but at last the forces of evil were driven out again by the Elves of Lindon. Still, the gates of Khazad-dûm have remained closed for many centuries. The dwarves resent us Elves, blaming Celebrimbor for bringing Sauron's wrath down on us all. They do not love us, but they are not an evil folk, and they hate Sauron, remembering his destruction of their northern cities in the Elder Days. We had not much hope of their aid, but thought it worth the attempt.
"I went therefore to their East Gate in Nanduhirion and sought an audience with their lord. They would not suffer me to enter, but after much debate their king came to the Gate. He was taller than most of his race, and his long white beard hung to his feet. 'I am Durin,' said he, 'the fourth of that name. For long we have sought only to be left in peace. What do the Big People want of us now?'