Welcome to Gondor, #!
Good day, #.
Welcome, my lord #. Is there anything I can do for you?
Gondor welcomes you, #.
These are dark times for Gondor, #.
Men whisper of fell creatures spawning in the East, and tell tales of a nameless fear...
Welcome, #. Would that you had come to Gondor in happier days.
Do not be afraid, my friend #. Rohan will come to our aid. They always come to our aid.
These are troubled times for our people. Darkness gathers in Mordor, and the lords of the White City are silent.
This country is my home, #. I fear for us all in these dark days.
This country was a great kingdom in days of old, but those days have long passed us by...
In my heart, #, I still dream of a day when the Kings will return to the throne of Gondor.
Gondor. Ah, Gondor. The great South-kingdom of old, once! But now, #, this is our long dwindling. The twilight of the West.
I wish that I could welcome you to Gondor in happier times.
Ah, sweet galenas! Such a beautiful, fragrant herb. One often finds it growing in these lands, #.
If you should chance upon a wild growth of westmansweed, you'd be wise to pick it and take it home.
You're not from around these parts, are you, #?
I'd rather be down at the tavern right now.
There's some troubling news going around. I can tell you that much.
I should warn you, #. Gondor is not as it once was.
They say the shadow of Mordor is growing in the East.
How do you fare?
Do you have anything to drink?
You don't look much like a Man of Gondor, #. You're not from the South, are you?
Which village do you come from, #?
There is little quite so beautiful as the sight of the Sun's first rays cast upon the white mountain-peaks.
When I was younger, I dreamed of becoming a Swan Knight of Dol Amroth. Those times seem far away now.
We do what we can to survive, #. But if the Enemy comes, we will not be able to do much.
Good day, #! But do I mean to say that the day is good, or that it is a day to be good on?
I hope that my family shall not be conscripted into the levies of Gondor.
We built a wall around the fields of Pelennor to keep the Orc-raids out. We should do the same at Poros, if you ask me.
We are truth-speakers, we Men of Gondor.
The heroes of Gondor shall rise to protect us, #.
Welcome, #. What business brings you to Gondor?
You come on a fine day, #. The Orcs have not raided our lands in more than a week.
Fine day for it.
Hello there, #!
The old tomb-mound of Elendil is named Halifirien in the tongue of Rohan. But his casket was sent to the Silent Street of the Stone City, five hundred years ago.
I have seen with my eyes the ruin of Osgiliath, where once was our capital city. But for five hundred years, that city has been host to naught but silent grief, a reminder of Gondor's darkening decline.
Gondor was once one of the greatest realms of Men. Yet today it is merely a land of crumbling brick, and false hearts...
I have heard stories that the Kings may one day return and rule Gondor once more. But those are just folk-tales; they cannot be true...
What news, #?
What tidings do you carry?
Tell me, #. What news of lands afar?
I am your true friend, #, as long as you stand true for Gondor.
Darkness is gathering on Gondor. And, #, it seems rain-clouds are gathering on the horizon.
Our crops have been failing, #. I hope for better fortune next year.
The westmansweed of these fields is a wonderful and fragrant herb.
The hearts of Men may grow false, #, but our lands are still as fair as ever.
Many Men out of Ithilien and the South-lands sought refuge here, one hundred years ago. I hope that one day our host will march East and take back those haunted homelands!
This realm is called Stoningland in the tongue of Rohan. Well, we cannot say we lack for stone, #.
Are these the last days of Men? Once, Gondor was great, but with every passing day I fear more for our future.
There is a cold darkness coming down onto the realms of Men.
Truly, these days are the failing of the race of Men. It seems even my crops are failing.
The scholars speak of days when Gondor was a shining jewel among the realms of Men. I fear those days are forever lost, #.
Tall ships and tall kings, three times three. What brought they from the foundered land, over the flowing sea? Seven stars, and seven stones, and one white tree.
Have you any fair tidings, #?
Men from the outlands are coming to the heartlands, away from conflict. They bring trouble, but I think we'll manage.
Come, #, tell me a tale to cheer my heart.
I must return to work, #. Those fields won't till themselves.
Ah, #! I believe we have met before. Or am I mistaken?
Well met, #!
Well met.
I shall not bore you with old tales of the village.
They say those Southrons carry curved swords into battle. Curved swords!