The thoughts of one of Castamir's followers as he flees Gondor for Umbar.
They may drive us from their cities, across the River and away to the South, but we shall return.
They may bring this Eldacar down from the North, but we will not bow to the son of such a house of his, long bereft of all lordship and dignity. I shall not bow.
Gondor loves her strong towers and walled cities, ploughed fields and orchards and stone silos. She has lost her roots: worshipping the land, forgetting Ossë's song.
We remember. We hold Pharazon's pillar, and we shall recall Numenor's majesty. Our fleets grow; our numbers swell.
We shall return.