"Yes. We have need of your help, to aid us in the war against Sauron. We have tried to spare the western provinces as much as possible. At first it was thought that with the aid of the Elves, the men of Ithilien and Anórien would be sufficient. I also believe my father just wanted to know that there was a corner of the realm as yet untouched by the Shadow, where people could live in peace as before. Therefore we have never called upon the people of the Ered Nimrais and the western coasts, though we have had many volunteers from Lamedon and Lebennin and even as far as Anfalas. But as you see, the war in the east does not go well. The men are weary of the long siege on the plain of Gorgoroth. Gondor has need of your help. We need every man you can spare from the needs of your own safety. I must call on you at last to fulfill the oath of the Eredrim, as was sworn to me by Karmach on this very spot nearly six score years ago."
"The Oath of Karmach is well-remembered by the Eredrim," Romach assured them. "Although it was a very long time ago. Karmach has slept in his barrow these ninety years now." He was finding it hard to reconcile the man before him with the semi-religious royal figure out of the old legends. This man had actually spoken with Romach's distant ancestor, the founder of his line.
"Karmach was a good man and a brave warrior," said Isildur, his eyes distant as he stared into the past. "And well-loved by his people." He smiled. "I can still hear their cheers when he announced our alliance. He was a wise and far-sighted king."
Romach was less than certain that his ancestor had acted wisely in joining the fortunes of his people to those of the Dúnedain. He couldn't help wondering if old Karmach hadn't been simply seeking the strongest ally in a dangerous time. After all, his old master Sauron, who had guided and advised the Eredrim for centuries, was suddenly and unexpectedly undone, lost in the downfall of Númenor that he had helped to bring about. Now enemies threatened on every side. And here were these newcomers, these Dúnedain, borne on the wings of storm out of the sea, asking if he wanted to be their allies. They were numerous and mighty, fierce warriors, a hundred or more years old, learned in all arts, bearers of magical weapons and Elvish sorcery. How far-sighted did he have to be to see which way the wind blew?
But things were different now. Sauron, whom all thought lost, had returned in another form, no longer fair to look upon, it was said, but more powerful than ever. In all these years of war, the Dúnedain and the Elves have been able to accomplish little more than retake a few miles of desert.
But Romach was careful to let none of these thoughts show on his face. He licked his lips anxiously. Much depended on how he chose his next words.
"Much has changed in the world since those times, Sire," he said, watching Isildur's face. "Karmach was speaking for a nomadic tribe of a few thousands, helpless against its warlike neighbors. But now our neighbors are our friends. And we Eredrim have not been idle. We number nearer a hundred thousands now, and we have villages in every bay of the mountains from Nanbrethil to Gilrain. We watch the mountain passes and the fords of the great roads for Gondor."
"Much has changed," said Isildur calmly, though Ohtar saw the hard dark gleam in his eye that always bode ill for someone. "But much remains the same. The Gondorrim and the Eredrim are still allies, and common enemies still threaten. Karmach swore to me on the Great Stone that the Eredrim would always come at need if called by the King of Gondor. As I swore for Gondor's part to aid the Eredrim against any attack. And we both did agree that these oaths would be binding on our descendants and successors. It was a solemn bond. Such things do not change."
"Of, course, Sire," said Romach quickly. "The Oath of Karmach is taught to every child. Indeed, it has been but recently the subject of much discussion among the people. To be honest, Sire, many of my people feel that we should remain here to guard our homes. They have little interest in the war between Gondor and Mordor. They feel it does not concern them."
"And what of you, Romach," asked Isildur. "Do you deem the war with Sauron is of no concern to you?"
"Of course we are concerned. It is most uncomfortable when one's neighbors are at war with each other. It is difficult not to become involved. After all, our friends are suffering, and our trade is disrupted."
"You will have more than your trade disrupted if Gondor falls."
"We know that. But we are no longer bands of wandering warriors. We are a nation of herdsmen and farmers. We have no mighty army to send with you."
"Were you not just praising the readiness of your army?" asked Isildur slyly.
"Our army, as you call it, is but a militia.They are ready at a horn's call to defend their homes, but they return to their homes after each call to arms. They are bold and well-trained, but they are no knights errant, to pack up and troop off to war. Who would defend our homes, our families?"
"I do not ask you to leave your homes unguarded," replied Isildur. "But many of us have already lost our homes, are some are still losing them, as at the Ethir Lefnui. There is no longer safety in remaining behind in your mountain fastnesses, Romach. If Gondor falls and Sauron prevails, there will be no safe haven in any land."
"But Sire," said Romach. "We guard the western approaches to Gondor. We cannot leave the fords unguarded. We could protect Gondor better by remaining here."
Isildur's eyes blazed. "Of course the fords must be guarded, and your lands and villages. But you are a numerous people and your men are renowned fighters. Gondor has need of your help." The king bent his eyes upon Romach's. "Are you saying you would refuse the summons?" he growled, and Romach's face blanched.
"No, my king," he exclaimed quickly. "I am only explaining that it will take some time to call all the valleys together, to make known what is required, to establish suitable defenses for those that remain. Provisions must be gathered, transportation arranged, compensation provided. Such things cannot be done quickly."
"And yet I say unto you," said Isildur, "that haste is vital at this critical hour. We are all but a small piece of a much greater whole. Even as we speak, great forces are moving, gathering, throughout all of Middle-earth. All are to be drawn together this Midsummer's Day, now but three weeks away. Then much that is hidden will be revealed. There will plans be made and all our efforts bent to a final deciding conflict.
"According to the schedule arranged, I was to have been at Erech weeks ago. But at Angrenost and again at Anglond I was delayed by the designs of the Enemy. Now time is short indeed. You must move with all haste."
"I will send messengers to all the valleys tomorrow," said Romach. "Within three days, I will have the Elders of every tribe of the Eredrim before you."
"We do not need your Elders," said Isildur. "We need your warriors."
"I am not a king," exclaimed Romach. "I am the lord only of Erech. The Eredrim are a confederation of tribes. The Elders must be consulted on any decision so momentous."
Isildur stared, struggling to control his frustration. Romach was frightened, but surely he didn't dare break the oath. Perhaps he was just speaking the truth.
"Summon your Elders, then," he growled. "But let the messengers carry word also to the valleys that the Eredrim are summoned. Let the weapontake begin at once."
"So it shall be done," said Romach.
They slept that night in their tents beside the hill of Erech, but Ohtar woke during the night to find Isildur gone from his bed. Scrambling quickly out of the tent, he saw a tall figure standing beside the stone at the top of the hill. Ohtar wrapped his cloak about him and climbed shivering up to join him. Isildur turned at his approach.
"This great stone once stood in the court of the palace at Rómenna in Númenor," he said, stroking it with his hand. "It had been uncovered deep in the mountain not long after the founding of Númenor, when the foundations of the palace were hewn. No one knew whence it had come; whether it had been left there by the Valar who created the island, or whether some other still more ancient race had lived in that land before them. Elros at first would have his stonemasons cut it for use in the palace then building, but they felt some power in the strange black stone and would not. The people of the court, and especially those of the royal blood, felt drawn to it and it became an heirloom of our family. In the end it was set up in the midst of the palace with fountains playing round about and flowering trees leaning above. Yet even in that lovely setting, it seemed strange and mysterious.