Roland looked at the kings gathering around to congratulate him, and a wave of emotion rose in his heart. The best people of this age had already been united by him. Compared with the South during the War of the One Ring, the kings of the North right now could be considered the most reliable people of this era! As for those southern nobles? Roland could only say most of them had barely taken on human shape!
"Weathertop is almost here!" General Caslo reminded Roland.
Sure enough, when Roland lifted his head, he saw the Weathertop Hills in the distance. It was the southernmost peak of the Weathertop Hills, slightly separated from the other hills. Its summit was conical, with the top somewhat flat. In ancient times, it had served as the border between Arnor and Rhudaur. On the tower at the top of the mountain, there had been a Palantír! However, in the year 1409 of the Third Age, a great army marched out from Angmar, crossed the Hoarwell River, entered Cardolan, and besieged Weathertop, with no one able to stop them. The Dúnedain were defeated, and Arveleg, son of Argeleb, was slain. However, the chief of the Nazgûl—the Ringwraith, the Witch-king of Angmar—failed to seize the Palantír. It was safely sent back to Fornost Erain.
Now, only the remains of a ruined fortress were left on this hill, and this was where Roland and Aragorn had agreed to meet!
"The snow is still falling. Should we go up the mountain and make camp? I don't see any cooking smoke. That kid may not have arrived yet!" General Caslo said to Roland.
"I agree!" Bard raised his hand. After all, Dale's Lake-town infantry could be said to be the weakest in the allied army. For them to grit their