Romestamo thanked the Gondorian guardsmen as he passed through the gate. The territories of Gondor, or indeed, the Reunited Kingdom, had increased far into the East and South since the crowning of King Elessar, Aragorn son of Arathorn. The wizard knew that he still dwelt at times in the citadel of Minas Tirith, known now as Minas Anor. The ancient city of Osgiliath had been rebuilt, but the former Ranger had been loth to relocate from the Tower of the Guard so swiftly. It was with him, and his family, that he wished to speak concerning the return of the Dark Lord. 

Continuing down the wide, well-paved road, he seemed nothing more than an old man wrapped in blue robes. His neck and shoulders were concealed by a warm, green mantle, and be bore a wooden staff, adorned with a single sapphire inlaid into the top. Hidden in his tunic was a great secret he had hidden even from Curumo and Olorin, those who had come to be called Saruman and Gandalf. The only indication of what the secret may have been lay in his Valinorean name, Pallando '[i]Far-sighted[/i]. Only Morinehtar had ever discovered what he was truly hiding.

Coming to a divide in the pavement, he looked at the signs carefully and followed the one announcing; '[i]Horse and Pony Market[/i]'. The establishment was not far, and it took only minutes for Romestamo to spot the white and chestnut beasts corralled together. He spent some time examining each animal, running his bony hand down their silky forelocks alike to the manner of the Men of Rohan. At last he decided upon one, paid with what little coin he had, and promptly named the steed Erurainon '[i]Eru is gracious[/i]'. He was a sturdy beast, and swift of foot. There may even have been a little [i]Mereas[/i] blood in him, but even the far-sightedness of Pallando could not tell for certain.

He set off in the early afternoon, taking few provisions and naught but a small flask of [i]miruvor[/i] the Elvish cordial. There would be many villages and settlements along his road, for the Men of Gondor had increased in the eastward lands. He set off at a good pace, meaning to continue until late evening. His ill tidings, dire as they were, would have to reach the King swiftly - within months, the final End could take place.