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What is your favorite book by J.R.R. Tolkien?
Mine is of course the first book, the Fellowship of The Ring.
But all of the books are very good so it is very hard to deside wich one who is the best.
Mine is of course the first book, the Fellowship of The Ring.
But all of the books are very good so it is very hard to deside wich one who is the best.
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The Muster of Rohan
Now all roads were running together to the East to meet the coming of war
and the onset of the Shadow. And even as Pippin stood at the Great Gate of the
City and saw the Prince of Dol Amroth ride in with his banners, the King of
Rohan came down out of the hills.
Day was waning. In the last rays of the sun the Riders cast long pointed
shadows that went on before them. Darkness had already crept beneath the
murmuring fir-woods that clothed the steep mountain-sides. The king rode now
slowly at the end of the day. Presently the path turned round a huge bare
shoulder of rock and plunged into the gloom of soft-sighing trees. Down, down
they went in a long winding file. When at last they came to the bottom of the
gorge they found that evening had fallen in the deep places. The sun was gone.
Twilight lay upon the waterfalls.
All day far below them a leaping stream had run down from the high pass
behind, cleaving its narrow way between pine-clad walls; and now through a
stony gate it flowed out and passed into a wider vale. The Riders followed it,
and suddenly Harrowdale lay before them, loud with the noise of waters in the
evening. There the white Snowbourn, joined by the lesser stream, went rushing,
fuming on the stones, down to Edoras and the green hills and the plains. Away
to the right at the head of the great dale the mighty Starkhorn loomed up
above its vast buttresses swathed in cloud; but its jagged peak, clothed in
everlasting snow, gleamed far above the world, blue-shadowed upon the East,
red-stained by the sunset in the West.
Merry looked out in wonder upon this strange country, of which he had
heard many tales upon their long road. It was a skyless world, in which his
eye; through dim gulfs of shadowy air, saw only ever-mounting slopes, great
walls of stone behind great walls, and frowning precipices wreathed with mist.
He sat for a moment half dreaming, listening to the noise of water, the
whisper of dark trees, the crack of stone, and the vast waiting silence that
brooded behind all sound. He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of
them marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was
borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shut out
the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.
He was very tired, for though they had ridden slowly, they had ridden
with very little rest. Hour after hour for nearly three weary days he had
jogged up and down, over passes, and through long dales, and across many
streams. Sometimes where the way was broader he had ridden at the king's side,
not noticing that many of the Riders smiled to see the two together: the
hobbit on his little shaggy grey pony, and the Lord of Rohan on his great
white horse. Then he had talked to Théoden, telling him about his home and the
doings of the Shire-folk, or listening in turn to tales of the Mark and its
mighty men of old. But most of the time, especially on this last day, Merry
had ridden by himself just behind the king, saying nothing, and trying to
understand the slow sonorous speech of Rohan that he heard the men behind him
using. It was a language in which there seemed to be many words that he knew,
though spoken more richly and strongly than in the Shire, yet he could not
piece the words together. At times some Rider would lift up his clear voice in
stirring song, and Merry felt his heart leap, though he did not know what it
was about.
All the same he had been lonely, and never more so than now at the day's
end. He wondered where in all this strange world Pippin had got to; and what
would become of Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli. Then suddenly like a cold touch
on his heart he thought of Frodo and Sam. 'I am forgetting them!' he said to
himself reproachfully. 'And yet they are more important than all the rest of
us. And I came to help them; but now they must be hundreds of miles away, if
they are still alive.' He shivered.
'Harrowdale at last!' said Éomer. 'Our journey is almost at an end.' They
halted. The paths out of the narrow gorge fell steeply. Only a glimpse, as
through a tall window, could be seen of the great valley in the gloaming
below. A single small light could be seen twinkling by the river.
'This journey is over, maybe,' said Théoden, 'but I have far yet to go.
Last night the moon was full, and in the morning I shall ride to Edoras to the
gathering of the Mark.'
'But if you would take my counsel,' said Éomer in a low voice, 'you would
then return hither, until the war is over, lost or won.'
Théoden smiled. 'Nay, my son, for so I will call you, speak not the soft
words of Wormtongue in my old ears!' He drew himself up and looked back at the
long line of his men fading into the dusk behind. 'Long years in the space of
days it seems since I rode west; but never will I lean on a staff again. If
the war is lost, what good will be my hiding in the hills? And if it is won,
what grief will it be, even if I fall, spending my last strength? But we will
leave this now. Tonight I will lie in the Hold of Dunharrow. One evening of
peace at least is left us. Let us ride on!'
In the deepening dusk they came down into the valley. Here the Snowbourn
flowed near to the western walls of the dale, and soon the path led them to a
ford where the shallow waters murmured loudly on the stones. The ford was
guarded. As the king approached many men sprang up out of the shadow of the
rocks; and when they saw the king they cried with glad voices: 'Théoden King!
Théoden King! The King of the Mark returns!'
Then one blew a long call on a horn. It echoed in the valley. Other horns
answered it, and lights shone out across the river.
And suddenly there rose a great chorus of trumpets from high above,
sounding from some hollow place, as it seemed, that gathered their notes into
one voice and sent it rolling and beating on the walls of stone.
So the King of the Mark came back victorious out of the West to Dunharrow
beneath the feet of the White Mountains. There he found the remaining strength
of his people already assembled; for as soon as his coming was known captains
rode to meet him at the ford, bearing messages from Gandalf. Dúnhere,
chieftain of the folk of Harrowdale, was at their head.
'At dawn three days ago, lord,' he said. 'Shadowfax came like a wind out
of the West to Edoras, and Gandalf brought tidings of your victory to gladden
our hearts. But he brought also word from you to hasten the gathering of the
Riders. And then came the winged Shadow.'
'The winged Shadow?' said Théoden. 'We saw it also, but that was in the
dead of night before Gandalf left us.'
'Maybe, lord,' said Dúnhere. 'Yet the same, or another like to it, a
flying darkness in the shape of a monstrous bird, passed over Edoras that
morning, and all men were shaken with fear. For it stooped upon Meduseld, and
as it came low, almost to the gable, there came a cry that stopped our hearts.
Then it was that Gandalf counselled us not to assemble in the fields, but to
meet you here in the valley under the mountains. And he bade us to kindle no
more lights or fires than barest need asked. So it has been done. Gandalf
spoke with great authority. We trust that it is as you would wish. Naught has
been seen in Harrowdale of these evil things.'
'It is well,' said Théoden. 'I will ride now to the Hold, and there
before I go to rest I will meet the marshals and captains. Let them come to me
as soon as may be!'
The road now led eastward straight across the valley, which was at that
point little more than half a mile in width. Flats and meads of rough grass,
grey now in the falling night, lay all about, but in front on the far side of
the dale Merry saw a frowning wall, a last outlier of the great roots of the
Starkhorn, cloven by the river in ages past.
On all the level spaces there was great concourse of men. Some thronged
to the roadside, hailing the king and the riders from the West with glad
cries; but stretching away into the distance behind there were ordered rows of
tents and booths, and lines of picketed horses, and great store of arms, and
piled spears bristling like thickets of new-planted trees. Now all the great
assembly was falling into shadow, and yet, though the night-chill blew cold
from the heights no lanterns glowed, no fires were lit. Watchmen heavily
cloaked paced to and fro.
Merry wondered how many Riders there were. He could not guess their
number in the gathering gloom, but it looked to him like a great army, many
thousands strong. While he was peering from side to side the king's party came
up under the looming cliff on the eastern side of the valley; and there
suddenly the path began to climb, and Merry looked up in amazement. He was on
a road the like of which he had never seen before, a great work of men's hands
in years beyond the reach of song. Upwards it wound, coiling like a snake,
boring its way across the sheer slope of rock. Steep as a stair, it looped
backwards and forwards as it climbed. Up it horses could walk, and wains could
be slowly hauled; but no enemy could come that way, except out of the air, if
it was defended from above. At each turn of the road there were great standing
stones that had been carved in the likeness of men, huge and clumsy-limbed,
squatting cross-legged with their stumpy arms folded on fat bellies. Some in
the wearing of the years had lost all features save the dark holes of their
eyes that still stared sadly at the passers-by. The Riders hardly glanced at
them. The Púkel-men they called them, and heeded them little: no power or
terror was left in them; but Merry gazed at them with wonder and a feeling
almost of pity, as they loomed up mournfully in the dusk.
After a while he looked back and found that he had already climbed some
hundreds of feet above the valley, but still far below he could dimly see a
winding line of Riders crossing the ford and filing along the road towards the
camp prepared for them. Only the king and his guard were going up into the
Hold.
At last the king's company came to a sharp brink, and the climbing road
passed into a cutting between walls of rock, and so went up a short slope and
out on to a wide upland. The Firienfeld men called it, a green mountain-field
of grass and heath, high above the deep-delved courses of the Snowbourn, laid
upon the lap of the great mountains behind: the Starkhorn southwards, and
northwards the saw-toothed mass of Irensaga, between which there faced the
riders, the grim black wall of the Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain rising out
of steep slopes of sombre pines. Dividing the upland into two there marched a
double line of unshaped standing stones that dwindled into the dusk and
vanished in the trees. Those who dared to follow that road came soon to the
black Dimholt under Dwimorberg, and the menace of the pillar of stone, and the
yawning shadow of the forbidden door.
Such was the dark Dunharrow, the work of long-forgotten men. Their name
was lost and no song or legend remembered it. For what purpose they had made
this place, as a town or secret temple or a tomb of kings, none could say.
Here they laboured in the Dark Years, before ever a ship came to the western
shores, or Gondor of the Dúnedain was built; and now they had vanished, and
only the old Púkel-men were left, still sitting at the turnings of the road.
Merry stared at the lines of marching stones: they were worn and black;
some were leaning, some were fallen, some cracked or broken; they looked like
rows of old and hungry teeth. He wondered what they could be, and he hoped
that the king was not going to follow them into the darkness beyond. Then he
saw that there were clusters of tents and booths on either side of the stony
way; but these were not set near the trees, and seemed rather to huddle away
from them towards the brink of the cliff. The greater number were on the
right, where the Firienfeld was wider; and on the left there was a smaller
camp, in the midst of which stood a tall pavilion. From this side a rider now
came out to meet them, and they turned from the road.
As they drew near Merry saw that the rider was a woman with long braided
hair gleaming in the twilight, yet she wore a helm and was clad to the waist
like a warrior and girded with a sword.
'Hail, Lord of the Mark!' she cried. 'My heart is glad at your
returning.'
'And you, Éowyn,' said Théoden, 'is all well with you?'
'All is well,' she answered; yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied
her, and he would have thought that she had been weeping, if that could be
believed of one so stern of face. 'All is well. It was a weary road for the
people to take, torn suddenly from their homes. There were hard words, for it
is long since war has driven us from the green fields; but there have been no
evil deeds. All is now ordered, as you see. And your lodging is prepared for
you; for I have had full tidings of you and knew the hour of your coming.'
'So Aragorn has come then,' said Éomer. 'Is he still here?'
'No, he is gone,' said Éowyn turning away and looking at the mountains
dark against the East and South.
'Whither did he go?' asked Éomer.
'I do not know,' she answered. 'He came at night, and rode away
yestermorn, ere the Sun had climbed over the mountain-tops. He is gone.'
'You are grieved, daughter,' said Théoden. 'What has happened? Tell me,
did he speak of that road?' He pointed away along the darkening lines of
stones towards the Dwimorberg. 'Of the Paths of the Dead?'
'Yes, lord,' said Éowyn. 'And he has passed into the shadows from which
none have returned. I could not dissuade him. He is gone.'
'Then our paths are sundered,' said Éomer. 'He is lost. We must ride
without him, and our hope dwindles.'
Slowly they passed through the short heath and upland grass, speaking no
more, until they came to the king's pavilion. There Merry found that
everything was made ready, and that he himself was not forgotten. A little
tent had been pitched for him beside the king's lodging; and there he sat
alone, while men passed to and fro, going in to the king and taking counsel
with him. Night came on, and the half-seen heads of the mountains westward
were crowned with stars, but the East was dark and blank. The marching stones
faded slowly from sight, but still beyond them, blacker than the gloom,
brooded the vast crouching shadow of the Dwimorberg.
'The Paths of the Dead,' he muttered to himself. 'The Paths of the Dead?
What does all this mean? They have all left me now. They have all gone to some
doom: Gandalf and Pippin to war in the East; and Sam and Frodo to Mordor; and
Strider and Legolas and Gimli to the Paths of the Dead. But my turn will come
soon enough, I suppose. I wonder what they are all talking about, and what the
king means to do. For I must go where he goes now.'
In the midst of these gloomy thoughts he suddenly remembered that he was
very hungry, and he got up to go and see if anyone else in this strange camp
felt the same. But at that very moment a trumpet sounded, and a man came
summoning him, the king's esquire, to wait at the king's board.
In the inner part of the pavilion was a small space, curtained off with
broidered hangings, and strewn with skins: and there at a small table sat
Théoden with Éomer and Éowyn, and Dúnhere, lord of Harrowdale. Merry stood
beside the king's stool and waited on him till presently the old man, coming
out of deep thought, turned to him and smiled.
'Come, Master Meriadoc!' he said. 'You shall not stand. You shall sit
beside me, as long as I remain in my own lands, and lighten my heart with
tales.'
Room was made for the hobbit at the king's left hand, but no one called
for any tale. There was indeed little speech, and they ate and drank for the
most part in silence, until at last, plucking up courage, Merry asked the
question that was tormenting him.
'Twice now, lord, I have heard of the Paths of the Dead,' he said. 'What
are they? And where has Strider, I mean the Lord Aragorn where has he gone?'
The king sighed, but no one answered, until at last Éomer spoke. 'We do
not know, and our hearts are heavy,' he said. 'But as for the Paths of the
Dead, you have yourself walked on their first steps. Nay. I speak no words of
ill omen! The road that we have climbed is the approach to the Door, yonder in
the Dimholt. But what lies beyond no man knows.'
'No man knows,' said Théoden: 'yet ancient legend, now seldom spoken, has
somewhat to report. If these old tales speak true that have come down from
father to son in the House of Eorl, then the Door under Dwimorberg leads to a
secret way that goes beneath the mountain to some forgotten end. But none have
ever ventured in to search its secrets, since Baldor, son of Brego, passed the
Door and was never seen among men again. A rash vow he spoke, as he drained
the horn at that feast which Brego made to hallow new-built Meduseld, and he
came never to the high seat of which he was the heir.
'Folk say that Dead Men out of the Dark Years guard the way and will
suffer no living man to come to their hidden halls; but at whiles they may
themselves be seen passing out of the door like shadows and down the stony
road. Then the people of Harrowdale shut fast their doors and shroud their
windows and are afraid. But the Dead come seldom forth and only at times of
great unquiet and coming death.'
'Yet it is said in Harrowdale,' said Éowyn in a low voice. 'that in the
moonless nights but little while ago a great host in strange array passed by.
Whence they came none knew, but they went up the stony road and vanished into
the hill, as if they went to keep a tryst.'
'Then why has Aragorn gone that way?' asked Merry. 'Don't you know
anything that would explain it?'
'Unless he has spoken words to you as his friend that we have not
heard,' said Éomer, 'none now in the land of the living can tell his purpose.'
'Greatly changed he seemed to me since I saw him first in the king's
house,' said Éowyn: 'grimmer, older. Fey I thought him, and like one whom the
Dead call.'
'Maybe he was called,' said Théoden; 'and my heart tells me that I shall
not see him again. Yet he is a kingly man of high destiny. And take comfort in
this, daughter, since comfort you seem to need in your grief for this guest.
It is said that when the Eorlingas came out of the North and passed at length
up the Snowbourn, seeking strong places of refuge in time of need, Brego and
his son Baldor climbed the Stair of the Hold and so came before the Door. On
the threshold sat an old man, aged beyond guess of years; tall and kingly he
had been, but now he was withered as an old stone. Indeed for stone they took
him, for he moved not, and he said no word, until they sought to pass him by
and enter. And then a voice came out of him, as it were out of the ground, and
to their amaze it spoke in the western tongue: _The way is shut_.
'Then they halted and looked at him and saw that he lived still; but he
did not look at them. _The way is shut_, his voice said again _It was made by
those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is
shut._
'_And when will that time be?_said Baldor. But no answer did he ever get.
For the old man died in that hour and fell upon his face; and no other tidings
of the ancient dwellers in the mountains have our folk ever learned. Yet maybe
at last the time foretold has come, and Aragorn may pass.'
'But how shall a man discover whether that time be come or no, save by
daring the Door?' said Éomer. 'And that way I would not go though all the
hosts of Mordor stood before me, and I were alone and had no other refuge.
Alas that a fey mood should fall on a man so greathearted in this hour of
need! Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the
earth? War is at hand.'
He paused, for at that moment there was a noise outside, a man's voice
crying the name of Théoden, and the challenge of the guard.
Presently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain. 'A man is
here, lord,' he said, 'an errand-rider of Gondor. He wishes to come before you
at once.'
'Let him come!' said Théoden.
A tall man entered, and Merry choked back a cry; for a moment it seemed
to him that Boromir was alive again and had returned. Then he saw that it was
not so; the man was a stranger, though as like to Boromir as if he were one of
his kin, tall and grey-eyed and proud. He was clad as a rider with a cloak of
dark green over a coat of fine mail; on the front of his helm was wrought a
small silver star. In his hand he bore a single arrow, black-feathered and
barbed with steel, but the point was painted red.
He sank on one knee and presented the arrow to Théoden. 'Hail Lord of the
Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!' he said. 'Hirgon I am, errand-rider of Denethor,
who bring you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim
have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all
your speed; lest Gondor fall at last.'
'The Red Arrow!' said Théoden, holding it, as one who receives a summons
long expected and yet dreadful when it comes. His hand trembled. 'The Red
Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to
that? And what does the Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my
speed may be?'
'That is best known to yourself, lord,' said Hirgon. 'But ere long it may
well come to pass that Minas Tirith is surrounded, and unless you have the
strength to break a siege of many powers, the Lord Denethor bids me say that
he judges that the strong arms of the Rohirrim would be better within his
walls than without.'
'But he knows that we are a people who fight rather upon horseback and in
the open, and that we are also a scattered people and time is needed for the
gathering of our Riders. Is it not true, Hirgon, that the Lord of Minas Tirith
knows more than he sets in his message? For we are already at war, as you may
have seen, and you do not find us all unprepared. Gandalf the Grey has been
among us, and even now we are mustering for battle in the East.'
'What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot
say,' answered Hirgon. 'But indeed our case is desperate. My lord does not
issue any command to you, he begs you only to remember old friendship and
oaths long spoken, and for your own good to do all that you may. It is
reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of
Mordor. From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumour
of war. In the South the Haradrim are moving, and fear has fallen on all our
coastlands, so that little help will come to us thence. Make haste! For it is
before the walls of Minas Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided,
and if the tide be not stemmed there, then it will flow over all the fair
fields of Rohan, and even in this Hold among the hills there shall be no
refuge.'
'Dark tidings,' said Théoden, 'yet not all unguessed. But say to Denethor
that even if Rohan itself felt no peril, still we would come to his aid. But
we have suffered much loss in our battles with Saruman the traitor, and we
must still think of our frontier to the north and east, as his own tidings
make clear. So great a power as the Dark Lord seems now to wield might well
contain us in battle before the City and yet strike with great force across
the River away beyond the Gate of Kings.
'But we will speak no longer counsels of prudence. We will come. The
weapontake was set for the morrow. When all is ordered we will set out. Ten
thousand spears I might have sent riding over the plain to the dismay of your
foes. It will be less now, I fear; for I will not leave my strongholds all
unguarded. Yet six thousands at the least shall ride behind me. For say to
Denethor that in this hour the King of the Mark himself will come down to the
land of Gondor, though maybe he will not ride back. But it is a long road, and
man and beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it may be from
tomorrow's morn ere you hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the
North.
'A week!' said Hirgon. 'If it must be so, it must. But you are like to
find only ruined walls in seven days from now, unless other help unlooked-for
comes. Still, you may at the least disturb the Orcs and Swarthy Men from their
feasting in the White Tower.'
'At the least we will do that,' said Théoden. 'But I myself am new-come
from battle and long journey, and I will now go to rest. Tarry here this
night. Then you shall look on the muster of Rohan and ride away the gladder
for the sight, and the swifter for the rest. In the morning counsels are best,
and night changes many thoughts.
With that the king stood up, and they all rose. 'Go now each to your
rest.' he said, 'and sleep well. And you, Master Meriadoc, I need no more
tonight. But be ready to my call as soon as the Sun is risen.'
'I will be ready,' said Merry, 'even if you bid me ride with you on the
Paths of the Dead.'
'Speak not words of omen!' said the king. 'For there may be more roads
than one that could bear that name. But I did not say that I would bid you
ride with me on any road. Good night!'
'I won't be left behind, to be called for on return!' said Merry. 'I
won't be left, I won't.' And repeating this over and over again to himself he
fell asleep at last in his tent.
He was wakened by a man shaking him. 'Wake up, wake up. Master
Holbytla!' he cried; and at length Merry came out of deep dreams and sat up
with a start. It still seemed very dark, he thought.
'What is the matter?' he asked.
'The king calls for you.'
'But the Sun has not risen, yet,' said Merry.
'No, and will not rise today, Master Holbytla. Nor ever again, one would
think under this cloud. But time does not stand still, though the Sun be lost.
Make haste!'
Flinging on some clothes, Merry looked outside. The world was darkling.
The very air seemed brown, and all things about were black and grey and
shadowless; there was a great stillness. No shape of cloud could be seen,
unless it were far away westward, where the furthest groping fingers of the
great gloom still crawled onwards and a little light leaked through them.
Overhead there hung a heavy roof, sombre and featureless, and light seemed
rather to be failing than growing.
Merry saw many folk standing, looking up and muttering: all their faces
were grey and sad, and some were afraid. With a sinking heart he made his way
to the king. Hirgon the rider of Gondor was there before him, and beside him
stood now another man, like him and dressed alike, but shorter and broader. As
Merry entered he was speaking to the king.
'It comes from Mordor, lord,' he said. 'It began last night at sunset.
From the hills in the Eastfold of your realm I saw it rise and creep across
the sky, and all night as I rode it came behind eating up the stars. Now the
great cloud hangs over all the land between here and the Mountains of Shadow;
and it is deepening. War has already begun.'
For a while the king sat silent. At last he spoke. 'So we come to it in
the end,' he said: 'the great battle of our time, in which many things shall
pass away. But at least there is no longer need for hiding. We will ride the
straight way and the open road and with all our speed. The muster shall begin
at once, and wait for none that tarry. Have you good store in Minas Tirith?
For if we must ride now in all haste, then we must ride light, with but meal
and water enough to last us into battle.'
'We have very great store long prepared,' answered Hirgon. Ride now as
light and as swift as you may!'
'Then call the heralds, Éomer,' said Théoden. 'Let the Riders be
marshalled!'
Éomer went out, and presently the trumpets rang in the Hold and were
answered by many others from below; but their voices no longer sounded clear
and brave as they had seemed to Merry the night before. Dull they seemed and
harsh in the heavy air, braying ominously.
The king turned to Merry. 'I am going to war, Master Meriadoc,' he said.
'In a little while I shall take the road. I release you from my service, but
not from my friendship. You shall abide here, and if you will, you shall serve
the Lady Éowyn, who will govern the folk in my stead.'
'But, but, lord,' Merry stammered, 'I offered you my sword. I do not want
to be parted from you like this, Théoden King. And as all my friends have gone
to the battle' I should be ashamed to stay behind.'
'But we ride on horses tall and swift,' said Théoden; 'and great though
your heart be, you cannot ride on such beasts.'
'Then tie me on to the back of one, or let me hang on a stirrup, or
something,' said Merry. 'It is a long way to run; but run I shall, if I cannot
ride, even if I wear my feet off and arrive weeks too late.'
Théoden smiled. 'Rather than that I would bear you with me on Snowmane,'
he said. 'But at the least you shall ride with me to Edoras and look on
Meduseld; for that way I shall go. So far Stybba can bear you: the great race
will not begin till we reach the plains.'
Then Éowyn rose up. 'Come now, Meriadoc!' she said. 'I will show you the
gear that I have prepared fur you.' They went out together. 'This request only
did Aragorn make to me,' said Éowyn, as they passed among the tents, 'that you
should be armed for battle. I have granted it, as I could. For my heart tells
me that you will need such gear ere the end.'
Now she led Merry to a booth among the lodges of the king's guard and
there an armourer brought out to her a small helm, and a round shield, and
other gear.
'No mail have we to fit you,' said Éowyn, 'nor any time for the forging
of such a hauberk; but here is also a stout jerkin of leather, a belt, and a
knife. A sword you have.'
Merry bowed, and the lady showed him the shield, which was like the
shield that had been given to Gimli, and it bore on it the device of the white
horse. 'Take all these things,' she said, 'and bear them to good fortune!
Farewell now, Master Meriadoc! Yet maybe we shall meet again, you and I.'
So it was that amid a gathering gloom the King of the Mark made ready to
lead all his Riders on the eastward road. Hearts were heavy and many quailed
in the shadow. But they were a stern people, loyal to their lord, and little
weeping or murmuring was heard, even in the camp in the Hold where the exiles
from Edoras were housed, women and children and old men. Doom hung over them,
but they faced it silently.
Two swift hours passed, and now the king sat upon his white horse,
glimmering in the half light. Proud and tall he seemed, though the hair that
flowed beneath his high helm was like snow; and many marvelled at him and took
heart to see him unbent and unafraid.
There on the wide flats beside the noisy river were marshalled in many
companies well nigh five and fifty hundreds of Riders fully armed, and many
hundreds of other men with spare horses lightly burdened. A single trumpet
sounded. The king raised his hand, and then silently the host of the Mark
began to move. Foremost went twelve of the king's household-men, Riders of
renown. Then the king followed with Éomer on his right. He had said farewell
to Éowyn above in the Hold, and the memory was grievous; but now he turned his
mind to the road that lay ahead. Behind him Merry rode on Stybba with the
errand riders of Gondor, and behind them again twelve more of the king's
household. They passed down the long ranks of waiting men with stern and
unmoved faces. But when they had come almost to the end of the line one looked
up glancing keenly at the hobbit. A young man, Merry thought as he returned
the glance, less in height and girth than most. He caught the glint of clear
grey eyes; and then he shivered, for it came suddenly to him that it was the
face of one without hope who goes in search of death.
On down the grey road they went beside the Snowbourn rushing on its
stones; through the hamlets of Underharrow and Upbourn, where many sad faces
of women looked out from dark doors; and so without horn or harp or music of
men's voices the great ride into the East began with which the songs of Rohan
were busy for many long lives of men thereafter.
From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning
with thane and captain rode Thengel's son:
to Edoras he came, the ancient halls
of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;
golden timbers were in gloom mantled.
Farewell he bade to his free people,
hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,
where long he had feasted ere the light faded.
Forth rode the king, fear behind him,
fate before him. Fealty kept he;
oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.
Forth rode Théoden. Five nights and days
east and onward rode the Eorlingas
through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,
six thousand spears to Sunlending,
Mundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,
Sea-kings' city in the South-kingdom
foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.
Doom drove them on. Darkness took them,
Horse and horseman; hoofbeats afar
sank into silence: so the songs tell us.
It was indeed in deepening gloom that the king came to Edoras, although
it was then but noon by the hour. There he halted only a short while and
strengthened his host by some three score of Riders that came late to the
weapontake. Now having eaten he made ready to set out again, and he wished his
esquire a kindly farewell. But Merry begged for the last time not to be parted
from him.
'This is no journey for such steeds as Stybba, as I have told you ' said
Théoden. 'And in such a battle as we think to make on the fields of Gondor
what would you do, Master Meriadoc, sword-thain though you be, and greater of
heart than of stature?'
'As for that, who can tell?' answered Merry. 'But why, lord, did you
receive me as sword-thain, if not to stay by your side? And I would not have
it said of me in song only that I was always left behind!'
'I received you for your safe-keeping,' answered Théoden; 'and also to do
as I might bid. None of my Riders can bear you as burden. If the battle were
before my gates, maybe your deeds would be remembered by the minstrels; but it
is a hundred leagues and two to Mundburg where Denethor is lord. I will say no
more.'
Merry bowed and went away unhappily, and stared at the lines of horsemen.
Already the companies were preparing to start: men were tightening girths,
looking to saddles, caressing their horses; some gazed uneasily at the
lowering sky. Unnoticed a Rider came up and spoke softly in the hobbit's ear.
'_Where will wants not, a way opens_, so we say,' he whispered; 'and so I
have found myself.' Merry looked up and saw that it was the young Rider whom
he had noticed in the morning. 'You wish to go whither the Lord of the Mark
goes: I see it in your face.'
'I do,' said Merry.
'Then you shall go with me,' said the Rider. 'I will bear you before me,
under my cloak until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such
good will should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!'
'Thank you indeed!' said Merry. 'Thank you, sir, though I do not know
your name.'
'Do you not?' said the Rider softly. 'Then call me Dernhelm.'
Thus it came to pass that when the king set out, before Dernhelm sat
Meriadoc the hobbit, and the great grey steed Windfola made little of the
burden; for Dernhelm was less in weight than many men, though lithe and wellknit
in frame.
On into the shadow they rode. In the willow-thickets where Snowbourn
flowed into Entwash, twelve leagues east of Edoras, they camped that night.
And then on again through the Folde; and through the Fenmarch, where to their
right great oakwoods climbed on the skirts of the hills under the shades of
dark Halifirien by the borders of Gondor; but away to their left the mists lay
on the marshes fed by the mouths of Entwash. And as they rode rumour came of
war in the North. Lone men, riding wild, brought word of foes assailing their
east-borders, of orc-hosts marching in the Wold of Rohan.
'Ride on! Ride on!' cried Éomer. 'Too late now to turn aside. The fens of
Entwash must guard our flank. Haste now we need. Ride on!'
And so King Théoden departed from his own realm, and mile by mile the
long road wound away, and the beacon hills marched past: Calenhad, Min-Rimmon,
Erelas, Nardol. But their fires were quenched. All the lands were grey and
still; and ever the shadow deepened before them, and hope waned in every
heart.
Now all roads were running together to the East to meet the coming of war
and the onset of the Shadow. And even as Pippin stood at the Great Gate of the
City and saw the Prince of Dol Amroth ride in with his banners, the King of
Rohan came down out of the hills.
Day was waning. In the last rays of the sun the Riders cast long pointed
shadows that went on before them. Darkness had already crept beneath the
murmuring fir-woods that clothed the steep mountain-sides. The king rode now
slowly at the end of the day. Presently the path turned round a huge bare
shoulder of rock and plunged into the gloom of soft-sighing trees. Down, down
they went in a long winding file. When at last they came to the bottom of the
gorge they found that evening had fallen in the deep places. The sun was gone.
Twilight lay upon the waterfalls.
All day far below them a leaping stream had run down from the high pass
behind, cleaving its narrow way between pine-clad walls; and now through a
stony gate it flowed out and passed into a wider vale. The Riders followed it,
and suddenly Harrowdale lay before them, loud with the noise of waters in the
evening. There the white Snowbourn, joined by the lesser stream, went rushing,
fuming on the stones, down to Edoras and the green hills and the plains. Away
to the right at the head of the great dale the mighty Starkhorn loomed up
above its vast buttresses swathed in cloud; but its jagged peak, clothed in
everlasting snow, gleamed far above the world, blue-shadowed upon the East,
red-stained by the sunset in the West.
Merry looked out in wonder upon this strange country, of which he had
heard many tales upon their long road. It was a skyless world, in which his
eye; through dim gulfs of shadowy air, saw only ever-mounting slopes, great
walls of stone behind great walls, and frowning precipices wreathed with mist.
He sat for a moment half dreaming, listening to the noise of water, the
whisper of dark trees, the crack of stone, and the vast waiting silence that
brooded behind all sound. He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of
them marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was
borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shut out
the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.
He was very tired, for though they had ridden slowly, they had ridden
with very little rest. Hour after hour for nearly three weary days he had
jogged up and down, over passes, and through long dales, and across many
streams. Sometimes where the way was broader he had ridden at the king's side,
not noticing that many of the Riders smiled to see the two together: the
hobbit on his little shaggy grey pony, and the Lord of Rohan on his great
white horse. Then he had talked to Théoden, telling him about his home and the
doings of the Shire-folk, or listening in turn to tales of the Mark and its
mighty men of old. But most of the time, especially on this last day, Merry
had ridden by himself just behind the king, saying nothing, and trying to
understand the slow sonorous speech of Rohan that he heard the men behind him
using. It was a language in which there seemed to be many words that he knew,
though spoken more richly and strongly than in the Shire, yet he could not
piece the words together. At times some Rider would lift up his clear voice in
stirring song, and Merry felt his heart leap, though he did not know what it
was about.
All the same he had been lonely, and never more so than now at the day's
end. He wondered where in all this strange world Pippin had got to; and what
would become of Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli. Then suddenly like a cold touch
on his heart he thought of Frodo and Sam. 'I am forgetting them!' he said to
himself reproachfully. 'And yet they are more important than all the rest of
us. And I came to help them; but now they must be hundreds of miles away, if
they are still alive.' He shivered.
'Harrowdale at last!' said Éomer. 'Our journey is almost at an end.' They
halted. The paths out of the narrow gorge fell steeply. Only a glimpse, as
through a tall window, could be seen of the great valley in the gloaming
below. A single small light could be seen twinkling by the river.
'This journey is over, maybe,' said Théoden, 'but I have far yet to go.
Last night the moon was full, and in the morning I shall ride to Edoras to the
gathering of the Mark.'
'But if you would take my counsel,' said Éomer in a low voice, 'you would
then return hither, until the war is over, lost or won.'
Théoden smiled. 'Nay, my son, for so I will call you, speak not the soft
words of Wormtongue in my old ears!' He drew himself up and looked back at the
long line of his men fading into the dusk behind. 'Long years in the space of
days it seems since I rode west; but never will I lean on a staff again. If
the war is lost, what good will be my hiding in the hills? And if it is won,
what grief will it be, even if I fall, spending my last strength? But we will
leave this now. Tonight I will lie in the Hold of Dunharrow. One evening of
peace at least is left us. Let us ride on!'
In the deepening dusk they came down into the valley. Here the Snowbourn
flowed near to the western walls of the dale, and soon the path led them to a
ford where the shallow waters murmured loudly on the stones. The ford was
guarded. As the king approached many men sprang up out of the shadow of the
rocks; and when they saw the king they cried with glad voices: 'Théoden King!
Théoden King! The King of the Mark returns!'
Then one blew a long call on a horn. It echoed in the valley. Other horns
answered it, and lights shone out across the river.
And suddenly there rose a great chorus of trumpets from high above,
sounding from some hollow place, as it seemed, that gathered their notes into
one voice and sent it rolling and beating on the walls of stone.
So the King of the Mark came back victorious out of the West to Dunharrow
beneath the feet of the White Mountains. There he found the remaining strength
of his people already assembled; for as soon as his coming was known captains
rode to meet him at the ford, bearing messages from Gandalf. Dúnhere,
chieftain of the folk of Harrowdale, was at their head.
'At dawn three days ago, lord,' he said. 'Shadowfax came like a wind out
of the West to Edoras, and Gandalf brought tidings of your victory to gladden
our hearts. But he brought also word from you to hasten the gathering of the
Riders. And then came the winged Shadow.'
'The winged Shadow?' said Théoden. 'We saw it also, but that was in the
dead of night before Gandalf left us.'
'Maybe, lord,' said Dúnhere. 'Yet the same, or another like to it, a
flying darkness in the shape of a monstrous bird, passed over Edoras that
morning, and all men were shaken with fear. For it stooped upon Meduseld, and
as it came low, almost to the gable, there came a cry that stopped our hearts.
Then it was that Gandalf counselled us not to assemble in the fields, but to
meet you here in the valley under the mountains. And he bade us to kindle no
more lights or fires than barest need asked. So it has been done. Gandalf
spoke with great authority. We trust that it is as you would wish. Naught has
been seen in Harrowdale of these evil things.'
'It is well,' said Théoden. 'I will ride now to the Hold, and there
before I go to rest I will meet the marshals and captains. Let them come to me
as soon as may be!'
The road now led eastward straight across the valley, which was at that
point little more than half a mile in width. Flats and meads of rough grass,
grey now in the falling night, lay all about, but in front on the far side of
the dale Merry saw a frowning wall, a last outlier of the great roots of the
Starkhorn, cloven by the river in ages past.
On all the level spaces there was great concourse of men. Some thronged
to the roadside, hailing the king and the riders from the West with glad
cries; but stretching away into the distance behind there were ordered rows of
tents and booths, and lines of picketed horses, and great store of arms, and
piled spears bristling like thickets of new-planted trees. Now all the great
assembly was falling into shadow, and yet, though the night-chill blew cold
from the heights no lanterns glowed, no fires were lit. Watchmen heavily
cloaked paced to and fro.
Merry wondered how many Riders there were. He could not guess their
number in the gathering gloom, but it looked to him like a great army, many
thousands strong. While he was peering from side to side the king's party came
up under the looming cliff on the eastern side of the valley; and there
suddenly the path began to climb, and Merry looked up in amazement. He was on
a road the like of which he had never seen before, a great work of men's hands
in years beyond the reach of song. Upwards it wound, coiling like a snake,
boring its way across the sheer slope of rock. Steep as a stair, it looped
backwards and forwards as it climbed. Up it horses could walk, and wains could
be slowly hauled; but no enemy could come that way, except out of the air, if
it was defended from above. At each turn of the road there were great standing
stones that had been carved in the likeness of men, huge and clumsy-limbed,
squatting cross-legged with their stumpy arms folded on fat bellies. Some in
the wearing of the years had lost all features save the dark holes of their
eyes that still stared sadly at the passers-by. The Riders hardly glanced at
them. The Púkel-men they called them, and heeded them little: no power or
terror was left in them; but Merry gazed at them with wonder and a feeling
almost of pity, as they loomed up mournfully in the dusk.
After a while he looked back and found that he had already climbed some
hundreds of feet above the valley, but still far below he could dimly see a
winding line of Riders crossing the ford and filing along the road towards the
camp prepared for them. Only the king and his guard were going up into the
Hold.
At last the king's company came to a sharp brink, and the climbing road
passed into a cutting between walls of rock, and so went up a short slope and
out on to a wide upland. The Firienfeld men called it, a green mountain-field
of grass and heath, high above the deep-delved courses of the Snowbourn, laid
upon the lap of the great mountains behind: the Starkhorn southwards, and
northwards the saw-toothed mass of Irensaga, between which there faced the
riders, the grim black wall of the Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain rising out
of steep slopes of sombre pines. Dividing the upland into two there marched a
double line of unshaped standing stones that dwindled into the dusk and
vanished in the trees. Those who dared to follow that road came soon to the
black Dimholt under Dwimorberg, and the menace of the pillar of stone, and the
yawning shadow of the forbidden door.
Such was the dark Dunharrow, the work of long-forgotten men. Their name
was lost and no song or legend remembered it. For what purpose they had made
this place, as a town or secret temple or a tomb of kings, none could say.
Here they laboured in the Dark Years, before ever a ship came to the western
shores, or Gondor of the Dúnedain was built; and now they had vanished, and
only the old Púkel-men were left, still sitting at the turnings of the road.
Merry stared at the lines of marching stones: they were worn and black;
some were leaning, some were fallen, some cracked or broken; they looked like
rows of old and hungry teeth. He wondered what they could be, and he hoped
that the king was not going to follow them into the darkness beyond. Then he
saw that there were clusters of tents and booths on either side of the stony
way; but these were not set near the trees, and seemed rather to huddle away
from them towards the brink of the cliff. The greater number were on the
right, where the Firienfeld was wider; and on the left there was a smaller
camp, in the midst of which stood a tall pavilion. From this side a rider now
came out to meet them, and they turned from the road.
As they drew near Merry saw that the rider was a woman with long braided
hair gleaming in the twilight, yet she wore a helm and was clad to the waist
like a warrior and girded with a sword.
'Hail, Lord of the Mark!' she cried. 'My heart is glad at your
returning.'
'And you, Éowyn,' said Théoden, 'is all well with you?'
'All is well,' she answered; yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied
her, and he would have thought that she had been weeping, if that could be
believed of one so stern of face. 'All is well. It was a weary road for the
people to take, torn suddenly from their homes. There were hard words, for it
is long since war has driven us from the green fields; but there have been no
evil deeds. All is now ordered, as you see. And your lodging is prepared for
you; for I have had full tidings of you and knew the hour of your coming.'
'So Aragorn has come then,' said Éomer. 'Is he still here?'
'No, he is gone,' said Éowyn turning away and looking at the mountains
dark against the East and South.
'Whither did he go?' asked Éomer.
'I do not know,' she answered. 'He came at night, and rode away
yestermorn, ere the Sun had climbed over the mountain-tops. He is gone.'
'You are grieved, daughter,' said Théoden. 'What has happened? Tell me,
did he speak of that road?' He pointed away along the darkening lines of
stones towards the Dwimorberg. 'Of the Paths of the Dead?'
'Yes, lord,' said Éowyn. 'And he has passed into the shadows from which
none have returned. I could not dissuade him. He is gone.'
'Then our paths are sundered,' said Éomer. 'He is lost. We must ride
without him, and our hope dwindles.'
Slowly they passed through the short heath and upland grass, speaking no
more, until they came to the king's pavilion. There Merry found that
everything was made ready, and that he himself was not forgotten. A little
tent had been pitched for him beside the king's lodging; and there he sat
alone, while men passed to and fro, going in to the king and taking counsel
with him. Night came on, and the half-seen heads of the mountains westward
were crowned with stars, but the East was dark and blank. The marching stones
faded slowly from sight, but still beyond them, blacker than the gloom,
brooded the vast crouching shadow of the Dwimorberg.
'The Paths of the Dead,' he muttered to himself. 'The Paths of the Dead?
What does all this mean? They have all left me now. They have all gone to some
doom: Gandalf and Pippin to war in the East; and Sam and Frodo to Mordor; and
Strider and Legolas and Gimli to the Paths of the Dead. But my turn will come
soon enough, I suppose. I wonder what they are all talking about, and what the
king means to do. For I must go where he goes now.'
In the midst of these gloomy thoughts he suddenly remembered that he was
very hungry, and he got up to go and see if anyone else in this strange camp
felt the same. But at that very moment a trumpet sounded, and a man came
summoning him, the king's esquire, to wait at the king's board.
In the inner part of the pavilion was a small space, curtained off with
broidered hangings, and strewn with skins: and there at a small table sat
Théoden with Éomer and Éowyn, and Dúnhere, lord of Harrowdale. Merry stood
beside the king's stool and waited on him till presently the old man, coming
out of deep thought, turned to him and smiled.
'Come, Master Meriadoc!' he said. 'You shall not stand. You shall sit
beside me, as long as I remain in my own lands, and lighten my heart with
tales.'
Room was made for the hobbit at the king's left hand, but no one called
for any tale. There was indeed little speech, and they ate and drank for the
most part in silence, until at last, plucking up courage, Merry asked the
question that was tormenting him.
'Twice now, lord, I have heard of the Paths of the Dead,' he said. 'What
are they? And where has Strider, I mean the Lord Aragorn where has he gone?'
The king sighed, but no one answered, until at last Éomer spoke. 'We do
not know, and our hearts are heavy,' he said. 'But as for the Paths of the
Dead, you have yourself walked on their first steps. Nay. I speak no words of
ill omen! The road that we have climbed is the approach to the Door, yonder in
the Dimholt. But what lies beyond no man knows.'
'No man knows,' said Théoden: 'yet ancient legend, now seldom spoken, has
somewhat to report. If these old tales speak true that have come down from
father to son in the House of Eorl, then the Door under Dwimorberg leads to a
secret way that goes beneath the mountain to some forgotten end. But none have
ever ventured in to search its secrets, since Baldor, son of Brego, passed the
Door and was never seen among men again. A rash vow he spoke, as he drained
the horn at that feast which Brego made to hallow new-built Meduseld, and he
came never to the high seat of which he was the heir.
'Folk say that Dead Men out of the Dark Years guard the way and will
suffer no living man to come to their hidden halls; but at whiles they may
themselves be seen passing out of the door like shadows and down the stony
road. Then the people of Harrowdale shut fast their doors and shroud their
windows and are afraid. But the Dead come seldom forth and only at times of
great unquiet and coming death.'
'Yet it is said in Harrowdale,' said Éowyn in a low voice. 'that in the
moonless nights but little while ago a great host in strange array passed by.
Whence they came none knew, but they went up the stony road and vanished into
the hill, as if they went to keep a tryst.'
'Then why has Aragorn gone that way?' asked Merry. 'Don't you know
anything that would explain it?'
'Unless he has spoken words to you as his friend that we have not
heard,' said Éomer, 'none now in the land of the living can tell his purpose.'
'Greatly changed he seemed to me since I saw him first in the king's
house,' said Éowyn: 'grimmer, older. Fey I thought him, and like one whom the
Dead call.'
'Maybe he was called,' said Théoden; 'and my heart tells me that I shall
not see him again. Yet he is a kingly man of high destiny. And take comfort in
this, daughter, since comfort you seem to need in your grief for this guest.
It is said that when the Eorlingas came out of the North and passed at length
up the Snowbourn, seeking strong places of refuge in time of need, Brego and
his son Baldor climbed the Stair of the Hold and so came before the Door. On
the threshold sat an old man, aged beyond guess of years; tall and kingly he
had been, but now he was withered as an old stone. Indeed for stone they took
him, for he moved not, and he said no word, until they sought to pass him by
and enter. And then a voice came out of him, as it were out of the ground, and
to their amaze it spoke in the western tongue: _The way is shut_.
'Then they halted and looked at him and saw that he lived still; but he
did not look at them. _The way is shut_, his voice said again _It was made by
those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is
shut._
'_And when will that time be?_said Baldor. But no answer did he ever get.
For the old man died in that hour and fell upon his face; and no other tidings
of the ancient dwellers in the mountains have our folk ever learned. Yet maybe
at last the time foretold has come, and Aragorn may pass.'
'But how shall a man discover whether that time be come or no, save by
daring the Door?' said Éomer. 'And that way I would not go though all the
hosts of Mordor stood before me, and I were alone and had no other refuge.
Alas that a fey mood should fall on a man so greathearted in this hour of
need! Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the
earth? War is at hand.'
He paused, for at that moment there was a noise outside, a man's voice
crying the name of Théoden, and the challenge of the guard.
Presently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain. 'A man is
here, lord,' he said, 'an errand-rider of Gondor. He wishes to come before you
at once.'
'Let him come!' said Théoden.
A tall man entered, and Merry choked back a cry; for a moment it seemed
to him that Boromir was alive again and had returned. Then he saw that it was
not so; the man was a stranger, though as like to Boromir as if he were one of
his kin, tall and grey-eyed and proud. He was clad as a rider with a cloak of
dark green over a coat of fine mail; on the front of his helm was wrought a
small silver star. In his hand he bore a single arrow, black-feathered and
barbed with steel, but the point was painted red.
He sank on one knee and presented the arrow to Théoden. 'Hail Lord of the
Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!' he said. 'Hirgon I am, errand-rider of Denethor,
who bring you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim
have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all
your speed; lest Gondor fall at last.'
'The Red Arrow!' said Théoden, holding it, as one who receives a summons
long expected and yet dreadful when it comes. His hand trembled. 'The Red
Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to
that? And what does the Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my
speed may be?'
'That is best known to yourself, lord,' said Hirgon. 'But ere long it may
well come to pass that Minas Tirith is surrounded, and unless you have the
strength to break a siege of many powers, the Lord Denethor bids me say that
he judges that the strong arms of the Rohirrim would be better within his
walls than without.'
'But he knows that we are a people who fight rather upon horseback and in
the open, and that we are also a scattered people and time is needed for the
gathering of our Riders. Is it not true, Hirgon, that the Lord of Minas Tirith
knows more than he sets in his message? For we are already at war, as you may
have seen, and you do not find us all unprepared. Gandalf the Grey has been
among us, and even now we are mustering for battle in the East.'
'What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot
say,' answered Hirgon. 'But indeed our case is desperate. My lord does not
issue any command to you, he begs you only to remember old friendship and
oaths long spoken, and for your own good to do all that you may. It is
reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of
Mordor. From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumour
of war. In the South the Haradrim are moving, and fear has fallen on all our
coastlands, so that little help will come to us thence. Make haste! For it is
before the walls of Minas Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided,
and if the tide be not stemmed there, then it will flow over all the fair
fields of Rohan, and even in this Hold among the hills there shall be no
refuge.'
'Dark tidings,' said Théoden, 'yet not all unguessed. But say to Denethor
that even if Rohan itself felt no peril, still we would come to his aid. But
we have suffered much loss in our battles with Saruman the traitor, and we
must still think of our frontier to the north and east, as his own tidings
make clear. So great a power as the Dark Lord seems now to wield might well
contain us in battle before the City and yet strike with great force across
the River away beyond the Gate of Kings.
'But we will speak no longer counsels of prudence. We will come. The
weapontake was set for the morrow. When all is ordered we will set out. Ten
thousand spears I might have sent riding over the plain to the dismay of your
foes. It will be less now, I fear; for I will not leave my strongholds all
unguarded. Yet six thousands at the least shall ride behind me. For say to
Denethor that in this hour the King of the Mark himself will come down to the
land of Gondor, though maybe he will not ride back. But it is a long road, and
man and beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it may be from
tomorrow's morn ere you hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the
North.
'A week!' said Hirgon. 'If it must be so, it must. But you are like to
find only ruined walls in seven days from now, unless other help unlooked-for
comes. Still, you may at the least disturb the Orcs and Swarthy Men from their
feasting in the White Tower.'
'At the least we will do that,' said Théoden. 'But I myself am new-come
from battle and long journey, and I will now go to rest. Tarry here this
night. Then you shall look on the muster of Rohan and ride away the gladder
for the sight, and the swifter for the rest. In the morning counsels are best,
and night changes many thoughts.
With that the king stood up, and they all rose. 'Go now each to your
rest.' he said, 'and sleep well. And you, Master Meriadoc, I need no more
tonight. But be ready to my call as soon as the Sun is risen.'
'I will be ready,' said Merry, 'even if you bid me ride with you on the
Paths of the Dead.'
'Speak not words of omen!' said the king. 'For there may be more roads
than one that could bear that name. But I did not say that I would bid you
ride with me on any road. Good night!'
'I won't be left behind, to be called for on return!' said Merry. 'I
won't be left, I won't.' And repeating this over and over again to himself he
fell asleep at last in his tent.
He was wakened by a man shaking him. 'Wake up, wake up. Master
Holbytla!' he cried; and at length Merry came out of deep dreams and sat up
with a start. It still seemed very dark, he thought.
'What is the matter?' he asked.
'The king calls for you.'
'But the Sun has not risen, yet,' said Merry.
'No, and will not rise today, Master Holbytla. Nor ever again, one would
think under this cloud. But time does not stand still, though the Sun be lost.
Make haste!'
Flinging on some clothes, Merry looked outside. The world was darkling.
The very air seemed brown, and all things about were black and grey and
shadowless; there was a great stillness. No shape of cloud could be seen,
unless it were far away westward, where the furthest groping fingers of the
great gloom still crawled onwards and a little light leaked through them.
Overhead there hung a heavy roof, sombre and featureless, and light seemed
rather to be failing than growing.
Merry saw many folk standing, looking up and muttering: all their faces
were grey and sad, and some were afraid. With a sinking heart he made his way
to the king. Hirgon the rider of Gondor was there before him, and beside him
stood now another man, like him and dressed alike, but shorter and broader. As
Merry entered he was speaking to the king.
'It comes from Mordor, lord,' he said. 'It began last night at sunset.
From the hills in the Eastfold of your realm I saw it rise and creep across
the sky, and all night as I rode it came behind eating up the stars. Now the
great cloud hangs over all the land between here and the Mountains of Shadow;
and it is deepening. War has already begun.'
For a while the king sat silent. At last he spoke. 'So we come to it in
the end,' he said: 'the great battle of our time, in which many things shall
pass away. But at least there is no longer need for hiding. We will ride the
straight way and the open road and with all our speed. The muster shall begin
at once, and wait for none that tarry. Have you good store in Minas Tirith?
For if we must ride now in all haste, then we must ride light, with but meal
and water enough to last us into battle.'
'We have very great store long prepared,' answered Hirgon. Ride now as
light and as swift as you may!'
'Then call the heralds, Éomer,' said Théoden. 'Let the Riders be
marshalled!'
Éomer went out, and presently the trumpets rang in the Hold and were
answered by many others from below; but their voices no longer sounded clear
and brave as they had seemed to Merry the night before. Dull they seemed and
harsh in the heavy air, braying ominously.
The king turned to Merry. 'I am going to war, Master Meriadoc,' he said.
'In a little while I shall take the road. I release you from my service, but
not from my friendship. You shall abide here, and if you will, you shall serve
the Lady Éowyn, who will govern the folk in my stead.'
'But, but, lord,' Merry stammered, 'I offered you my sword. I do not want
to be parted from you like this, Théoden King. And as all my friends have gone
to the battle' I should be ashamed to stay behind.'
'But we ride on horses tall and swift,' said Théoden; 'and great though
your heart be, you cannot ride on such beasts.'
'Then tie me on to the back of one, or let me hang on a stirrup, or
something,' said Merry. 'It is a long way to run; but run I shall, if I cannot
ride, even if I wear my feet off and arrive weeks too late.'
Théoden smiled. 'Rather than that I would bear you with me on Snowmane,'
he said. 'But at the least you shall ride with me to Edoras and look on
Meduseld; for that way I shall go. So far Stybba can bear you: the great race
will not begin till we reach the plains.'
Then Éowyn rose up. 'Come now, Meriadoc!' she said. 'I will show you the
gear that I have prepared fur you.' They went out together. 'This request only
did Aragorn make to me,' said Éowyn, as they passed among the tents, 'that you
should be armed for battle. I have granted it, as I could. For my heart tells
me that you will need such gear ere the end.'
Now she led Merry to a booth among the lodges of the king's guard and
there an armourer brought out to her a small helm, and a round shield, and
other gear.
'No mail have we to fit you,' said Éowyn, 'nor any time for the forging
of such a hauberk; but here is also a stout jerkin of leather, a belt, and a
knife. A sword you have.'
Merry bowed, and the lady showed him the shield, which was like the
shield that had been given to Gimli, and it bore on it the device of the white
horse. 'Take all these things,' she said, 'and bear them to good fortune!
Farewell now, Master Meriadoc! Yet maybe we shall meet again, you and I.'
So it was that amid a gathering gloom the King of the Mark made ready to
lead all his Riders on the eastward road. Hearts were heavy and many quailed
in the shadow. But they were a stern people, loyal to their lord, and little
weeping or murmuring was heard, even in the camp in the Hold where the exiles
from Edoras were housed, women and children and old men. Doom hung over them,
but they faced it silently.
Two swift hours passed, and now the king sat upon his white horse,
glimmering in the half light. Proud and tall he seemed, though the hair that
flowed beneath his high helm was like snow; and many marvelled at him and took
heart to see him unbent and unafraid.
There on the wide flats beside the noisy river were marshalled in many
companies well nigh five and fifty hundreds of Riders fully armed, and many
hundreds of other men with spare horses lightly burdened. A single trumpet
sounded. The king raised his hand, and then silently the host of the Mark
began to move. Foremost went twelve of the king's household-men, Riders of
renown. Then the king followed with Éomer on his right. He had said farewell
to Éowyn above in the Hold, and the memory was grievous; but now he turned his
mind to the road that lay ahead. Behind him Merry rode on Stybba with the
errand riders of Gondor, and behind them again twelve more of the king's
household. They passed down the long ranks of waiting men with stern and
unmoved faces. But when they had come almost to the end of the line one looked
up glancing keenly at the hobbit. A young man, Merry thought as he returned
the glance, less in height and girth than most. He caught the glint of clear
grey eyes; and then he shivered, for it came suddenly to him that it was the
face of one without hope who goes in search of death.
On down the grey road they went beside the Snowbourn rushing on its
stones; through the hamlets of Underharrow and Upbourn, where many sad faces
of women looked out from dark doors; and so without horn or harp or music of
men's voices the great ride into the East began with which the songs of Rohan
were busy for many long lives of men thereafter.
From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning
with thane and captain rode Thengel's son:
to Edoras he came, the ancient halls
of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;
golden timbers were in gloom mantled.
Farewell he bade to his free people,
hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,
where long he had feasted ere the light faded.
Forth rode the king, fear behind him,
fate before him. Fealty kept he;
oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.
Forth rode Théoden. Five nights and days
east and onward rode the Eorlingas
through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,
six thousand spears to Sunlending,
Mundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,
Sea-kings' city in the South-kingdom
foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.
Doom drove them on. Darkness took them,
Horse and horseman; hoofbeats afar
sank into silence: so the songs tell us.
It was indeed in deepening gloom that the king came to Edoras, although
it was then but noon by the hour. There he halted only a short while and
strengthened his host by some three score of Riders that came late to the
weapontake. Now having eaten he made ready to set out again, and he wished his
esquire a kindly farewell. But Merry begged for the last time not to be parted
from him.
'This is no journey for such steeds as Stybba, as I have told you ' said
Théoden. 'And in such a battle as we think to make on the fields of Gondor
what would you do, Master Meriadoc, sword-thain though you be, and greater of
heart than of stature?'
'As for that, who can tell?' answered Merry. 'But why, lord, did you
receive me as sword-thain, if not to stay by your side? And I would not have
it said of me in song only that I was always left behind!'
'I received you for your safe-keeping,' answered Théoden; 'and also to do
as I might bid. None of my Riders can bear you as burden. If the battle were
before my gates, maybe your deeds would be remembered by the minstrels; but it
is a hundred leagues and two to Mundburg where Denethor is lord. I will say no
more.'
Merry bowed and went away unhappily, and stared at the lines of horsemen.
Already the companies were preparing to start: men were tightening girths,
looking to saddles, caressing their horses; some gazed uneasily at the
lowering sky. Unnoticed a Rider came up and spoke softly in the hobbit's ear.
'_Where will wants not, a way opens_, so we say,' he whispered; 'and so I
have found myself.' Merry looked up and saw that it was the young Rider whom
he had noticed in the morning. 'You wish to go whither the Lord of the Mark
goes: I see it in your face.'
'I do,' said Merry.
'Then you shall go with me,' said the Rider. 'I will bear you before me,
under my cloak until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such
good will should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!'
'Thank you indeed!' said Merry. 'Thank you, sir, though I do not know
your name.'
'Do you not?' said the Rider softly. 'Then call me Dernhelm.'
Thus it came to pass that when the king set out, before Dernhelm sat
Meriadoc the hobbit, and the great grey steed Windfola made little of the
burden; for Dernhelm was less in weight than many men, though lithe and wellknit
in frame.
On into the shadow they rode. In the willow-thickets where Snowbourn
flowed into Entwash, twelve leagues east of Edoras, they camped that night.
And then on again through the Folde; and through the Fenmarch, where to their
right great oakwoods climbed on the skirts of the hills under the shades of
dark Halifirien by the borders of Gondor; but away to their left the mists lay
on the marshes fed by the mouths of Entwash. And as they rode rumour came of
war in the North. Lone men, riding wild, brought word of foes assailing their
east-borders, of orc-hosts marching in the Wold of Rohan.
'Ride on! Ride on!' cried Éomer. 'Too late now to turn aside. The fens of
Entwash must guard our flank. Haste now we need. Ride on!'
And so King Théoden departed from his own realm, and mile by mile the
long road wound away, and the beacon hills marched past: Calenhad, Min-Rimmon,
Erelas, Nardol. But their fires were quenched. All the lands were grey and
still; and ever the shadow deepened before them, and hope waned in every
heart.
kianul1000 wrote:
> Chapter 2_
> The Passing of the Grey Company
> Gandalf was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Shadowfax were lost in
> the
> night, when Merry came back to Aragorn. He had only a light bundle,
> for he had
> lost his pack at Parth Galen, and all he had was a few useful things
> he had
> picked up among the wreckage of Isengard. Hasufel was already
> saddled. Legolas
> and Gimli with their horse stood close by.
> 'So four of the Company still remain,' said Aragorn. 'We will ride
> on
> together. But we shall not go alone, as I thought. The king is now
> determined
> to set out at once. Since the coming of the winged shadow, he desires
> to
> return to the hills under cover of night.'
> 'And then whither?' said Legolas.
> 'I cannot say yet,' Aragorn answered. 'As for the king, he will go to
> the
> muster that he commanded at Edoras, four nights from now. And there,
> I think,
> he will hear tidings of war, and the Riders of Rohan will go down to
> Minas
> Tirith. But for myself, and any that will go with me . . .'
> 'I for one!' cried Legolas. 'And Gimli with him!' said the Dwarf.
> 'Well, for myself,' said Aragorn, 'it is dark before me. I must go
> down
> also to Minas Tirith, but I do not yet see the road. An hour long
> prepared
> approaches.'
> 'Don't leave me behind!' said Merry. 'I have not been of much use
> yet;
> but I don't want to be laid aside, like baggage to be called for when
> all is
> over. I don't think the Riders will want to be bothered with me now.
> Though,
> of course, the king did say that I was to sit by him when he came to
> his house
> and tell him all about the Shire.'
> 'Yes,' said Aragorn, 'and your road lies with him, I think, Merry.
> But do
> not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere
> Théoden sits at
> ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter
> Spring.'
> Soon all were ready to depart: twenty-four horses, with Gimli behind
> Legolas, and Merry in front of Aragorn. Presently they were riding
> swiftly
> through the night. They had not long passed the mounds at the Fords
> of Isen,
> when a Rider galloped up from the rear of their line.
> 'My lord,' he said to the king, 'there are horsemen behind us. As we
> crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They
> are
> overtaking us, riding hard.'
> Théoden at once called a halt. The Riders turned about and
> seized their
> spears. Aragorn dismounted and set Merry on the ground, and drawing
> his sword
> he stood by the king's stirrup. Éomer and his esquire rode
> back to the rear.
> Merry felt more like unneeded baggage than ever, and he wondered, if
> there was
> a fight, what he should do. Supposing the king's small escort was
> trapped and
> overcome, but he escaped into the darkness – alone in the wild fields
> of Rohan
> with no idea of where he was in all the endless miles? 'No good!' he
> thought.
> He drew his sword and tightened his belt.
> The sinking moon was obscured by a great sailing cloud, but suddenly
> it
> rode out clear again. Then they all heard the sound of hoofs, and at
> the same
> moment they saw dark shapes coming swiftly on the path from the
> fords. The
> moonlight glinted here and there on the points of spears. The number
> of the
> pursuers could not be told, but they seemed no fewer than the king's
> escort,
> at the least.
> When they were some fifty paces off, Éomer cried in a loud
> voice: 'Halt!
> Halt! Who rides in Rohan?'
> The pursuers brought their steeds to a sudden stand. A silence
> followed:
> and then in the moonlight, a horseman could be seen dismounting and
> walking
> slowly forward. His hand showed white as he held it up, palm outward,
> in token
> of peace; but the king's men gripped their weapons. At ten paces the
> man
> stopped. He was tall, a dark standing shadow. Then his clear voice
> rang out.
> 'Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in
> haste from long afar.'
> 'You have found it,' said Éomer. 'When you crossed the fords
> yonder you
> entered it. But it is the realm of Théoden the King. None ride
> here save by
> his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?'
> 'Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North I am,' cried the man.
> 'We seek one
> Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard that he was in Rohan.'
> 'And you have found him also!' cried Aragorn. Giving his reins to
> Merry,
> he ran forward and embraced the newcomer. 'Halbarad!' he said. 'Of
> all joys
> this is the least expected!'
> Merry breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that this was some
> last
> trick of Saruman's, to waylay the king while he had only a few men
> about him;
> but it seemed that there would be no need to die in Théoden's
> defence, not yet
> at any rate. He sheathed his sword.
> 'All is well,' said Aragorn, turning back. 'Here are some of my own
> kin
> from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they
> be,
> Halbarad shall tell us.'
> 'I have thirty with me,' said Halbarad. 'That is all of our kindred
> that
> could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have
> ridden
> with us, desiring to go to the war. We rode as swiftly as we might
> when your
> summons came.'
> 'But I did not summon you,' said Aragorn, 'save only in wish. My
> thoughts
> have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have
> sent no
> word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in
> haste and
> danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave.'
> Théoden was indeed glad of the news. 'It is well!' he said.
> 'If these
> kinsmen be in any way like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, thirty such
> knights
> will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads.'
> Then the Riders set out again, and Aragorn for a while rode with the
> Dúnedain; and when they had spoken of tidings in the North and
> in the South,
> Elrohir said to him:
> 'I bring word to you from my father: _The days are short. If thou art
> in
> haste, remember the Paths of the Dead_.'
> 'Always my days have seemed to me too short to achieve my desire,'
> answered Aragorn. 'But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that
> road.'
> 'That will soon be seen,' said Elrohir. 'But let us speak no more of
> these things upon the open road!'
> And Aragorn said to Halbarad: 'What is that that you bear, kinsman?'
> For
> he saw that instead of a spear he bore a tall staff, as it were a
> standard,
> but it was close-furled in a black cloth bound about with many
> thongs.
> 'It is a gift that I bring you from the Lady of Rivendell,' answered
> Halbarad. 'She wrought it in secret, and long was the making. But she
> also
> sends word to you: _The days now are short. Either our hope cometh,
> or all
> hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare
> well,
> Elfstone!_'
> And Aragorn said: 'Now I know what you bear. Bear it still for me a
> while!' And he turned and looked away to the North under the great
> stars, and
> then he fell silent and spoke no more while the night's journey
> lasted.
> The night was old and the East grey when they rode up at last from
> Deeping-coomb and came back to the Hornburg. There they were to lie
> and rest
> for a brief while and take counsel.
> Merry slept until he was roused by Legolas and Gimli. 'The Sun is
> high,'
> said Legolas. 'All others are up and doing. Come, Master Sluggard,
> and look at
> this place while you may!'
> 'There was a battle here three nights ago,' said Gimli, 'and here
> Legolas
> and I played a game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how
> it was!
> And there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them,
> Legolas, do
> you think?'
> 'Nay! There is no time,' said the Elf. 'Do not spoil the wonder with
> haste! I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day
> of peace
> and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that hour
> we eat,
> and then set out again, I hear.'
> Merry got up and yawned. His few hours' sleep had not been nearly
> enough;
> he was tired and rather dismal. He missed Pippin, and felt that he
> was only a
> burden, while everybody was making plans for speed in a business that
> he did
> not fully understand. 'Where is Aragorn?' he asked.
> 'In a high chamber of the Burg,' said Legolas. 'He has neither rested
> nor
> slept, I think. He went thither some hours ago, saying that he must
> take
> thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but some dark
> doubt or
> care sits on him.'
> 'They are a strange company, these newcomers,' said Gimli. 'Stout men
> and
> lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost as boys beside
> them; for
> they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most
> part, even
> as Aragorn himself; and they are silent.'
> 'But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their
> silence.'
> said Legolas. 'And have you marked the brethren Elladan and Elrohir?
> Less
> sombre is their gear than the others', and they are fair and gallant
> as Elvenlords;
> and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of
> Rivendell.'
> 'Why have they come? Have you heard?' asked Merry. He had now
> dressed,
> and he flung his grey cloak about his shoulders; and the three passed
> out
> together towards the ruined gate of the Burg.
> 'They answered a summons, as you heard,' said Gimli. 'Word came to
> Rivendell, they say: _Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the
> Dúnedain ride
> to him in Rohan!_ But whence this message came they are now in doubt.
> Gandalf
> sent it, I would guess.'
> 'Nay, Galadriel,' said Legolas. 'Did she not speak through Gandalf of
> the
> ride of the Grey Company from the North?'
> 'Yes, you have it,' said Gimli. 'The Lady of the Wood! She read many
> hearts and desires. Now why did not we wish for some of our own
> kinsfolk,
> Legolas?'
> Legolas stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north
> and
> east, and his fair face was troubled. 'I do not think that any would
> come,' he
> answered. 'They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on
> their own
> lands.'
> For a while the three companions walked together, speaking of this
> and
> that turn of the battle, and they went down from the broken gate, and
> passed
> the mounds of the fallen on the greensward beside the road, until
> they stood
> on Helm's D i k e and looked into the Coomb. The Death Down already
> stood there,
> black and tall and stony, and the great trampling and scoring of the
> grass by
> the Huorns could be plainly seen. The Dunlendings and many men of the
> garrison
> of the Burg were at work on the D i k e or in the fields and about
> the battered walls behind; yet all seemed strangely quiet: a weary
> valley resting after a great storm. Soon they turned back and went to
> the midday meal in the hall of the Burg.
> The king was already there, and as soon as they entered he called
> for
> Merry and had a seat set for him at his side. 'It is not as I would
> have it,'said Théoden; 'for this is little like my fair house
> in Edoras. And your friend is gone, who should also be here. But it
> may be long ere we sit, you and I, at the high table in Meduseld;
> there will be no time for feasting when I return thither. But come
> now! Eat and drink, and let us speak together while we may. And then
> you shall ride with me.'
> 'May I?' said Merry, surprised and delighted. 'That would be
> splendid!'
> He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. 'I am
> afraid I am
> only in everybody's way,' he stammered; 'but I should like to do
> anything I
> could, you know.'
> 'I doubt it not,' said the king. 'I have had a good hill-pony made
> ready
> for you. He will bear you as swift as any horse by the roads that we
> shall
> take. For I will ride from the Burg by mountain paths, not by the
> plain, and
> so come to Edoras by way of Dunharrow where the Lady Éowyn
> awaits me. You
> shall be my esquire, if you will. Is there gear of war in this place,
> Éomer,
> that my sword-thain could use?'
> 'There are no great weapon-hoards here, lord.' answered Éomer.
> 'Maybe a
> light helm might be found to fit him; but we have no mail or sword
> for one of
> his stature.'
> 'I have a sword,' said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing
> from
> its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love
> for this
> old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. 'May
> I lay the
> sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap Théoden King?' he
> cried. 'Receive
> my service, if you will!'
> 'Gladly will I take it,' said the king; and laying his long old
> hands
> upon the brown hair of the hobbit; he blessed him. 'Rise now,
> Meriadoc,
> esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!' he said. 'Take your
> sword and
> bear it unto good fortune!'
> 'As a father you shall be to me,' said Merry.
> 'For a little while,' said Théoden.
> They talked then together as they ate, until presently Éomer
> spoke. 'It
> is near the hour that we set for our going, lord,' he said. 'Shall I
> bid men
> sound the horns? But where is Aragorn? His place is empty and he has
> not
> eaten.'
> 'We will make ready to ride,' said Théoden; 'but let word be
> sent to the
> Lord Aragorn that the hour is nigh.'
> The king with his guard and Merry at his side passed down from the
> gate
> of the Burg to where the Riders were assembling on the green. Many
> were
> already mounted. It would be a great company; for the king was
> leaving only a
> small garrison in the Burg, and all who could be spared were riding
> to the
> weapontake at Edoras. A thousand spears had indeed already ridden
> away at
> night; but still there would be some five hundred more to go with the
> king,
> for the most part men from the fields and dales of Westfold.
> A little apart the Rangers sat, silent, in an ordered company, armed
> with
> spear and bow and sword. They were clad in cloaks of dark grey, and
> their
> hoods were cast now over helm and head. Their horses were strong and
> of proud
> bearing, but rough-haired; and one stood there without a rider,
> Aragorn's own
> horse that they had brought from the North; Roheryn was his name.
> There was no
> gleam of stone or gold, nor any fair thing in all their gear and
> harness: nor
> did their riders bear any badge or token, save only that each cloak
> was pinned
> upon the left shoulder by a brooch of silver shaped like a rayed
> star.
> The king mounted his horse, Snowmane, and Merry sat beside him on
> his
> pony: Stybba was his name. Presently Éomer came out from the
> gate, and with
> him was Aragorn, and Halbarad bearing the great staff close-furled in
> black,
> and two tall men, neither young nor old So much alike were they, the
> sons of
> Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and
> their
> faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of
> silver-grey.
> Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry had eyes only for
> Aragorn, so
> startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many
> years had
> fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.
> 'I am troubled in mind, lord,' he said, standing by the king's horse.
> 'I
> have heard strange words, and I see new perils far off. I have
> laboured long
> in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me,
> Théoden,
> you ride now to Dunharrow, how long will it be ere you come there?'
> 'It is now a full hour past noon,' said Éomer. 'Before the
> night of the
> third day from now we should come to the Hold. The Moon will then be
> one night
> past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held
> the day
> after. More speed we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be
> gathered.'
> Aragorn was silent for a moment. 'Three days,' he murmured, 'and the
> muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it cannot now be
> hastened.' He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some
> decision; his
> face was less troubled. Then, by our leave, lord, I must take new
> counsel for
> myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in
> secret. For
> me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest
> way, and I
> will take the Paths of the Dead.'
> 'The Paths of the Dead!' said Théoden, and trembled. 'Why do
> you speak of
> them?' Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it seemed to
> Merry that the
> faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words.
> 'If
> there be in truth such paths,' said Théoden, 'their gate is in
> Dunharrow; but
> no living man may pass it.'
> 'Alas! Aragorn my friend!' said Éomer. 'I had hoped that we
> should ride
> to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our
> parting is
> come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the
> Sun.'
> 'That road I will take, nonetheless,' said Aragorn. 'But I say to
> you,
> Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the
> hosts of Mordor
> should stand between.'
> 'You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,' said Théoden. 'It
> is your
> doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This
> parting grieves
> me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the
> mountain-roads
> and delay no longer. Farewell!'
> 'Farewell, lord!' said Aragorn. 'Ride unto great renown! Farewell,
> Merry!
> I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped when we hunted the
> orcs to
> Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we
> shall not
> forget you.'
> 'Good-bye!' said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very
> small,
> and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy words. More than
> ever he
> missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were
> ready, and
> their horses were fidgeting; he wished they would start arid get it
> over.
> Now Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand
> and cried aloud,
> and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode over the D i k e
> and down the
> Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that
> skirted the
> foothills for a mile or so, until bending south it passed back among
> the hills
> and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode to the D i k e and watched
> till the
> king's men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.
> 'There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,' he
> said.
> 'He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go
> on.'
> 'A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,' said
> Halbarad.
> 'Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their
> borders,
> and yet I grudge it not.'
> 'And now our fates are woven together,' said Aragorn. 'And yet,
> alas!
> here we must part. Well, I must eat a little, and then we also must
> hasten
> away. Come, Legolas and Gimli! I must speak with you as I eat.'
> Together they went back into the Burg; yet for some time Aragorn sat
> silent at the table in the hall, and the others waited for him to
> speak.
> 'Come!' said Legolas at last. 'Speak and be comforted, and shake off
> the
> shadow! What has happened since we came back to this grim place in
> the grey
> morning?'
> 'A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than the battle of the
> Hornburg,' answered Aragorn. 'I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc,
> my
> friends.'
> 'You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry!' exclaimed
> Gimli
> with fear and astonishment in his face. 'Did you say aught to – him?
> Even
> Gandalf feared that encounter.'
> 'You forget to whom you speak,' said Aragorn sternly, and his eyes
> glinted. 'Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of
> Edoras? What
> do you fear that I should say to him? Nay, Gimli,' he said in a
> softer voice,
> and the grimness left his face, and he looked like one who has
> laboured in
> sleepless pain for many nights. 'Nay, my friends, I and the lawful
> master of
> the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so
> I
> judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough –
> barely.'
> He drew a deep breath. 'It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness
> is
> slow to pass. I spoke no word to him, and in the end I wrenched the
> Stone to
> my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld
> me. Yes,
> Master Gimli, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If
> that will
> aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I
> lived and
> walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I deem; for he knew it not
> till now.
> The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armour of Théoden;
> but Sauron has
> not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil. Now in the very hour
> of his
> great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I
> showed the
> blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above
> fear; nay,
> doubt ever gnaws him.'
> 'But he wields great dominion, nonetheless,' said Gimli; 'and now he
> will
> strike more swiftly.'
> 'The hasty stroke goes oft astray,' said Aragorn. 'We must press our
> Enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. See my friends, when
> I had
> mastered the Stone, I learned many things. A grave peril I saw
> coming
> unlooked-for upon Gondor from the South that will draw off great
> strength from
> the defence of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, I deem
> that the
> City will be lost ere ten days be gone.'
> 'Then lost it must be,' said Gimli. 'For what help is there to send
> thither, and how could it come there in time?'
> 'I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself,' said Aragorn.
> 'But
> there is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to
> the
> coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead.'
> 'The Paths of the Dead!' said Gimli. 'It is a fell name; and little
> to
> the liking to the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a
> road and
> not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to
> counter
> the strokes of Mordor?'
> 'The living have never used that road since the coming of the
> Rohirrim,'
> said Aragorn, 'for it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the
> heir of
> Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen! This is the word that the
> sons of
> Elrond bring to me from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore:
> _Bid
> Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead_.'
> 'And what may be the words of the seer?' said Legolas.
> "Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king
> at
> Fornost,' said Aragorn:
> Over the land there lies a long shadow,
> westward reaching wings of darkness.
> The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
> doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
> for the hour is come for the oathbreakers;
> at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
> and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
> Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
> from the prey twilight, the forgotten people?
> The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
> From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
> he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
> 'Dark ways doubtless, said Gimli, but no darker than these staves are
> to
> me.'
> 'If you would understand them better, then I bid you come with me,'
> said
> Aragorn; 'for that way I now shall take. But I do not go gladly; only
> need
> drives me. Therefore, only of your free will would I have you come,
> for you
> will find both toil and great fear, and maybe worse.'
> 'I will go with you even on the Paths of the Dead, and to whatever,
> end
> they may lead,' said Gimli.
> 'I also will come,' said Legolas, 'for I do not fear the Dead.'
> 'I hope that the forgotten people will not have forgotten how to
> fight,'
> said Gimli; 'for otherwise I see not why we should trouble them.'
> 'That we shall know if ever we come to Erech,' said Aragorn. 'But
> the
> oath that they broke was to fight against Sauron, and they must
> fight
> therefore, if they are to fulfil it. For at Erech there stands yet a
> black
> stone that was brought, it was said, from Númenor by Isildur;
> and it was set
> upon a hill, and upon it the King of the Mountains swore allegiance
> to him in
> the beginning of the realm of Gondor. But when Sauron returned and
> grew in
> might again, Isildur summoned the Men of the Mountains to fulfil
> their oath,
> and they would not: for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark
> Years.
> 'Then Isildur said to their king: "Thou shalt be the last king.
> And if
> the West prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon
> thee and
> thy folk: to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war
> will last
> through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the
> end."
> And they fled before the wrath of Isildur, and did not dare to go
> forth to war
> on Sauron's part; and they hid themselves in secret places in the
> mountains
> and had no dealings with other men, but slowly dwindled in the barren
> hills.
> And the terror of the Sleepless Dead lies about the Hill of Erech and
> all
> places where that people lingered. But that way I must go, since
> there are
> none living to help me.'
> He stood up. 'Come!' he cried, and drew his sword, and it flashed in
> the
> twilit hall of the Burg. 'To the Stone of Erech! I seek the Paths of
> the Dead.
> Come with me who will!'
> Legolas and Gimli made no answer, but they rose and followed Aragorn
> from
> the hall. On the green there waited, still and silent, the hooded
> Rangers.
> Legolas and Gimli mounted. Aragorn sprang upon Roheryn. Then Halbarad
> lifted a
> great horn, and the blast of it echoed in Helm's Deep; and with that
> they
> leapt away, riding down the Coomb like thunder, while all the men
> that were
> left on D i k e or Burg stared in amaze.
> And while Théoden went by slow paths in the hills, the Grey
> Company
> passed swiftly over the plain, and on the next day in the afternoon
> they came
> to Edoras; and there they halted only briefly, ere they passed up the
> valley,
> and so came to Dunharrow as darkness fell.
> The Lady Éowyn greeted them and was glad of their coming; for
> no mightier
> men had she seen than the Dúnedain and the fair sons of
> Elrond; but on Aragorn
> most of all her eyes rested. And when they sat at supper with her,
> they talked
> together, and she heard of all that had passed since Théoden
> rode away,
> concerning which only hasty tidings had yet reached her; and when she
> heard of
> the battle in Helm's Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and
> of the
> charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.
> But at last she said: 'Lords, you are weary and shall now go to your
> beds
> with such ease as can be contrived in haste. But tomorrow fairer
> housing shall
> be found for you.'
> But Aragorn said: 'Nay, lady, be not troubled for us! If we may lie
> here
> tonight and break our fast tomorrow, it will be enough. For I ride on
> an
> errand most urgent, and with the first light of morning we must go.'
> She smiled on him and said: 'Then it was kindly done, lord, to ride
> so
> many miles out of your way to bring tidings to Éowyn, and to
> speak with her in
> her exile.'
> 'Indeed no man would count such a journey wasted,' said Aragorn;
> 'and
> yet, lady, I could not have come hither, if it were not that the road
> which I
> must take leads me to Dunharrow.'
> And she answered as one that likes not what is said: "Then,
> lord, you are
> astray; for out of Harrowdale no road runs east or south; and you had
> best
> return as you came.'
> 'Nay, lady,' said he, 'I am not astray; for I walked in this land ere
> you
> were born to grace it. There is a road out of this valley, and that
> road I
> shall take. Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead.'
> Then she stared at him as one that is stricken, and her face
> blanched,
> and for long she spoke no more, while all sat silent. 'But, Aragorn,'
> she said
> at last, 'is it then your errand to seek death? For that is all that
> you will
> find on that road. They do not suffer the living to pass.'
> 'They may suffer me to pass,' said Aragorn; 'but at the least I will
> adventure it. No other road will serve.'
> 'But this is madness,' she said. 'For here are men of renown and
> prowess,
> whom you should not take into the shadows, but should lead to war,
> where men
> are needed. I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then
> all our
> hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter.'
> 'It is not madness, lady,' he answered; 'for I go on a path
> appointed.
> But those who follow me do so of their free will; and if they wish
> now to
> remain and ride with the Rohirrim, they may do so. But I shall take
> the Paths
> of the Dead, alone, if needs be.'
> Then they said no more, and they ate in silence; but her eyes were
> ever
> upon Aragorn, and the others saw that she was in great torment of
> mind. At
> length they arose, and took their leave of the Lady, and thanked her
> for her
> care, and went to their rest.
> But as Aragorn came to the booth where he was to lodge with Legolas
> and
> Gimli, and his companions had gone in. there came the Lady
> Éowyn after him and
> called to him. He turned and saw her as a glimmer in the night, for
> she was
> clad in white; but her eyes were on fire.
> 'Aragorn,' she said, 'why will you go on this deadly road?'
> 'Because I must,' he said. 'Only so can I see any hope of doing my
> part
> in the war against Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril,
> Éowyn. Were I to go
> where my heart dwells, far in the North I would now be wandering in
> the fair
> valley of Rivendell.'
> For a while she was silent, as if pondering what this might mean.
> Then
> suddenly she laid her hand on his arm. 'You are a stern lord and
> resolute,'
> she said; 'and thus do men win renown.' She paused. 'Lord.' she said,
> 'if you
> must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of
> skulking in the
> hills, and wish to face peril and battle.'
> 'Your duty is with your people,' he answered.
> 'Too often have I heard of duty,' she cried. 'But am I not of the
> House
> of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse? I have waited on
> faltering feet
> long enough. Since they falter no longer, it seems, may I not now
> spend my
> life as I will?'
> 'Few may do that with honour,' he answered. 'But as for you, lady:
> did
> you not accept the charge to govern the people until their lord's
> return? If
> you had not been chosen, then some marshal or captain would have been
> set in
> the same place, and he could not ride away from his charge, were he
> weary of
> it or no.'
> 'Shall I always be chosen?' she said bitterly. 'Shall I always be
> left
> behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win
> renown, and
> find food and beds when they return?'
> 'A time may come soon,' said he, 'when none will return. Then there
> will
> be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds
> that are
> done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be
> less valiant
> because they are unpraised.'
> And she answered: 'All your words are but to say: you are a woman,
> and
> your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and
> honour,
> you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no
> more.
> But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and
> wield
> blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'
> 'What do you fear, lady?' he asked.
> 'A cage,' she said. 'To stay behind bars, until use and old age
> accept
> them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or
> desire.'
> 'And yet you counselled me not to adventure on the road that I had
> chosen, because it is perilous?'
> 'So may one counsel another,' she said. 'Yet I do not bid you flee
> from
> peril, but to ride to battle where your sword may win renown and
> victory. I
> would not see a thing that is high and excellent cast away
> needlessly.'
> 'Nor would I,' he said. 'Therefore I say to you, lady: Stay! For you
> have
> no errand to the South.'
> 'Neither have those others who go with thee. They go only because
> they
> would not be parted from thee – because they love thee.' Then she
> turned and
> vanished into the night.
> When the light of day was come into the sky but the sun was not yet
> risen
> above the high ridges in the East, Aragorn made ready to depart. His
> company
> was all mounted, and he was about to leap into the saddle, when the
> Lady Éowyn
> came to bid them farewell. She was clad as a Rider and girt with a
> sword. In
> her hand she bore a cup, and she set it to her lips and drank a
> little,
> wishing them good speed; and then she gave the cup to Aragorn, and he
> drank,
> and he said: 'Farewell, Lady of Rohan! I drink to the fortunes of
> your House,
> and of you, and of all your people. Say to your brother: beyond the
> shadows we
> may meet again!'
> Then it seemed to Gimli and Legolas who were nearby that she wept,
> and in
> one so stern and proud that seemed the more grievous. But she said:
> 'Aragorn,
> wilt thou go?'
> 'I will,' he said.
> 'Then wilt thou not let me ride with this company, as I have asked?'
> 'I will not, lady,' he said. 'For that I could not grant without
> leave of
> the king and of your brother; and they will not return until
> tomorrow. But I
> count now every hour, indeed every minute. Farewell!'
> Then she fell on her knees, saying: 'I beg thee!'
> 'Nay, lady,' he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then
> he
> kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did
> not look
> back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the
> pain that
> he bore.
> But Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone, her hands
> clenched at
> her sides, and she watched them until they passed into the shadows
> under the
> black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Gate of the
> Dead.
> When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is
> blind, and
> went back to her lodging. But none of her folk saw this parting, for
> they hid
> themselves in fear and would not come forth until the day was up, and
> the
> reckless strangers were gone.
> And some said: 'They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they
> belong,
> into the dark places, and never return. The times are evil enough.'
> The light was still grey as they rode, for the sun had not yet
> climbed
> over the black ridges of the Haunted Mountain before them. A dread
> fell on
> them, even as they passed between the lines of ancient stones and so
> came to
> the Dimholt. There under the gloom of black trees that not even
> Legolas could
> long endure they found a hollow place opening at the mountain's root,
> and
> right in their path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of
> doom.
> 'My blood runs chill,' said Gimli, but the others were silent, and
> his
> voice fell dead on the dank fir-needles at his feet. The horses would
> not pass
> the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and led them
> about. And so
> they came at last deep into the glen; and there stood a sheer wall of
> rock,
> and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before them like the mouth of
> night. Signs
> and figures were carved above its wide arch too dim to read, and fear
> flowed
> from it like a grey vapour.
> The company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did
> not
> quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves, for whom the
> ghosts
> of Men have no terror.
> 'This is an evil door,' said Halbarad, 'and my death lies beyond it.
> I
> will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter.'
> 'But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too,' said
> Aragorn.
> 'For if ever we come through this darkness, many leagues lie beyond,
> and every
> hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer.
> Follow me!'
> Then Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in
> that
> hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed him. And
> indeed the love
> that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great
> that they
> were willing to face even the terror of the Door, if their masters'
> hearts
> were steady as they walked beside them. But Arod, the horse of Rohan,
> refused
> the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was
> grievous to
> see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that
> went
> soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas
> passed in.
> And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.
> His knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. 'Here is a thing
> unheard
> of!' he said. 'An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!' With
> that he
> plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead
> over the
> threshold; and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli
> Glóin's son
> who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.
> Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and now he went ahead
> bearing
> one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the rear, and Gimli,
> stumbling
> behind, strove to overtake him. He could see nothing but the dim
> flame of the
> torches; but if the company halted, there seemed an endless whisper
> of voices
> all about him, a murmur of words in no tongue that he had ever heard
> before.
> Nothing assailed the company nor withstood their passage, and yet
> steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all because he
> knew now
> that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were
> thronged by an
> unseen host that followed in the dark.
> So time unreckoned passed, until Gimli saw a sight that he was ever
> afterwards loth to recall. The road was wide, as far as he could
> judge, but
> now the company came suddenly into a great empty space, and there
> were no
> longer any walls upon either side. The dread was so heavy on him that
> he could
> hardly walk. Away to the left something glittered in the gloom as
> Aragorn's
> torch drew near. Then Aragorn halted and went to look what it might
> be.
> 'Does he feel no fear?' muttered the Dwarf. 'In any other cave Gimli
> Glóin's son would have been the first to run to the gleam of
> gold. But not
> here! Let it lie!'
> Nonetheless he drew near, and saw Aragorn kneeling, while Elladan
> held
> aloft both torches. Before him were the bones of a mighty man. He had
> been
> clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's
> air was
> as dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and
> garnets,
> and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward on
> the floor.
> He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen,
> and before
> him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still
> clawing at the
> cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he had hewn at
> the rock
> in his last despair.
> Aragorn did not touch him, but after gazing silently for a while he
> rose
> and sighed. 'Hither shall the flowers of _simbelmynë_ come never
> unto world's
> end,' he murmured. 'Nine mounds and seven there are now green with
> grass, and
> through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not
> unlock.
> Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!
> 'For that is not my errand!' he cried, turning back and speaking to
> the
> whispering darkness behind. 'Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden
> in the
> Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I
> summon you to
> the Stone of Erech!'
> There was no answer, unless it were an utter silence more dreadful
> than
> the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the
> torches
> flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled. Of the time that
> followed,
> one hour or many, Gimli remembered little. The others pressed on, but
> he was
> ever hindmost, pursued by a groping horror that seemed always just
> about to
> seize him; and a rumour came after him like the shadow-sound of many
> feet. He
> stumbled on until he was crawling like a beast on the ground and felt
> that he
> could endure no more: he must either find an ending and escape or run
> back in
> madness to meet the following fear.
> Suddenly he heard the tinkle of water, a sound hard and clear as a
> stone
> falling into a dream of dark shadow. Light grew, and lo! the company
> passed
> through another gateway, high-arched and broad, and a rill ran out
> beside
> them; and beyond, going steeply down, was a road between sheer
> cliffs, knifeedged
> against the sky far above. So deep and narrow was that chasm that
> the
> sky was dark, and in it small stars glinted. Yet as Gimli after
> learned it was
> still two hours ere sunset of the day on which they had set out from
> Dunharrow; though for all that he could then tell it might have been
> twilight
> in some later year, or in some other world.
> The Company now mounted again, and Gimli returned to Legolas. They
> rode
> in file, and evening came on and a deep blue dusk; and still fear
> pursued
> them. Legolas turning to speak to Gimli looked back and the Dwarf saw
> before
> his face the glitter in the Elf's bright eyes. Behind them rode
> Elladan, last
> of the Company, but not the last of those that took the downward
> road.
> 'The Dead are following,' said Legolas. 'I see shapes of Men and of
> horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like
> winter-thickets
> on a misty night. The Dead are following.'
> 'Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned,' said Elladan.
> The Company came at last out of the ravine, as suddenly as it they
> had
> issued from a crack in a wall; and there lay the uplands of a great
> vale
> before them, and the stream beside them went down with a cold voice
> over many
> falls.
> 'Where in Middle-earth are we?' said Gimli; and Elladan answered:
> 'We
> have descended from the uprising of the Morthond, the long chill
> river that
> flows at last to the sea that washes the walls of Dol Amroth. You
> will not
> need to ask hereafter how comes its name: Blackroot men call it.'
> The Morthond Vale made a great bay that beat up against the sheer
> southern faces of the mountains. Its steep slopes were grass-grown;
> but all
> was grey in that hour, for the sun had gone, and far below lights
> twinkled in
> the homes of Men. The vale was rich and many folk dwelt there.
> Then without turning Aragorn cried aloud so that all could hear:
> 'Friends, forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the
> Stone of
> Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way.' So without
> looking back
> they rode the mountain-fields, until they came to a bridge over the
> growing
> torrent and found a road that went down into the land.
> Lights went out in house and hamlet as they came, and doors were
> shut,
> and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted
> deer. Ever
> there rose the same cry in the gathering night: 'The King of the
> Dead! The
> King of the Dead is come upon us!'
> Bells were ringing far below, and all men fled before the face of
> Aragorn; but the Grey Company in their haste rode like hunters, until
> their
> horses were stumbling with weariness. And thus, just ere midnight,
> and in a
> darkness as black as the caverns in the mountains, they came at last
> to the
> Hill of Erech.
> Long had the terror of the Dead lain upon that hill and upon the
> empty
> fields about it. For upon the top stood a black stone, round as a
> great globe,
> the height of a man, though its half was buried in the ground.
> Unearthly it
> looked, as though it had fallen from the sky, as some believed; but
> those who
> remembered still the lore of Westernesse told that it had been
> brought out of
> the ruin of Númenor and there set by Isildur at his landing.
> None of the
> people of the valley dared to approach it, nor would they dwell near;
> for they
> said that it was a trysting-place of the Shadow-men, and there they
> would
> gather in times of fear, thronging round the Stone and whispering.
> To that Stone the Company came and halted in the dead of night. Then
> Elrohir gave to Aragorn a silver horn, and he blew upon it and it
> seemed to
> those that stood near that they heard a sound of answering horns, as
> if it was
> an echo in deep caves far away. No other sound they heard, and yet
> they were
> aware of a great host gathered all about the hill on which they
> stood; and a
> chill wind like the breath of ghosts came down from the mountains.
> But Aragorn
> dismounted, and standing by the Stone he cried in a great voice:
> 'Oathbreakers, why have ye come?'
> And a voice was heard out of the night that answered him, as if from
> far
> away:
> 'To fulfil our oath and have peace.'
> Then Aragorn said: 'The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir
> upon
> Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean
> of the
> servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have
> peace
> and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor.'
> And with that he bade Halbarad unfurl the great standard which he
> had
> brought; and behold! it was black, and if there was any device upon
> it, it was
> hidden in the darkness. Then there was silence, and not a whisper nor
> a sigh
> was heard again all the long night. The Company camped beside the
> Stone, but
> they slept little, because of the dread of the Shadows that hedged
> them round.
> But when the dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn rose at once, and he
> led
> the Company forth upon the journey of greatest haste and weariness
> that any
> among them had known, save he alone, and only his will held them to
> go on. No
> other mortal Men could have endured it, none but the Dúnedain
> of the North,
> and with them Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas of the Elves.
> They passed Tarlang's Neck and came into Lamedon; and the Shadow
> Host
> pressed behind and fear went on before them, until they came to
> Calembel upon
> Ciril, and the sun went down like blood behind Pinnath Gelin away in
> the West
> behind them. The township and the fords of Ciril they found deserted,
> for many
> men had gone away to war, and all that were left fled to the hills at
> the
> rumour of the coming of the King of the Dead. But the next day there
> came no
> dawn, and the Grey Company passed on into the darkness of the Storm
> of Mordor
> and were lost to mortal sight; but the Dead followed them.
Take it easy now...
> Chapter 2_
> The Passing of the Grey Company
> Gandalf was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Shadowfax were lost in
> the
> night, when Merry came back to Aragorn. He had only a light bundle,
> for he had
> lost his pack at Parth Galen, and all he had was a few useful things
> he had
> picked up among the wreckage of Isengard. Hasufel was already
> saddled. Legolas
> and Gimli with their horse stood close by.
> 'So four of the Company still remain,' said Aragorn. 'We will ride
> on
> together. But we shall not go alone, as I thought. The king is now
> determined
> to set out at once. Since the coming of the winged shadow, he desires
> to
> return to the hills under cover of night.'
> 'And then whither?' said Legolas.
> 'I cannot say yet,' Aragorn answered. 'As for the king, he will go to
> the
> muster that he commanded at Edoras, four nights from now. And there,
> I think,
> he will hear tidings of war, and the Riders of Rohan will go down to
> Minas
> Tirith. But for myself, and any that will go with me . . .'
> 'I for one!' cried Legolas. 'And Gimli with him!' said the Dwarf.
> 'Well, for myself,' said Aragorn, 'it is dark before me. I must go
> down
> also to Minas Tirith, but I do not yet see the road. An hour long
> prepared
> approaches.'
> 'Don't leave me behind!' said Merry. 'I have not been of much use
> yet;
> but I don't want to be laid aside, like baggage to be called for when
> all is
> over. I don't think the Riders will want to be bothered with me now.
> Though,
> of course, the king did say that I was to sit by him when he came to
> his house
> and tell him all about the Shire.'
> 'Yes,' said Aragorn, 'and your road lies with him, I think, Merry.
> But do
> not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere
> Théoden sits at
> ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter
> Spring.'
> Soon all were ready to depart: twenty-four horses, with Gimli behind
> Legolas, and Merry in front of Aragorn. Presently they were riding
> swiftly
> through the night. They had not long passed the mounds at the Fords
> of Isen,
> when a Rider galloped up from the rear of their line.
> 'My lord,' he said to the king, 'there are horsemen behind us. As we
> crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They
> are
> overtaking us, riding hard.'
> Théoden at once called a halt. The Riders turned about and
> seized their
> spears. Aragorn dismounted and set Merry on the ground, and drawing
> his sword
> he stood by the king's stirrup. Éomer and his esquire rode
> back to the rear.
> Merry felt more like unneeded baggage than ever, and he wondered, if
> there was
> a fight, what he should do. Supposing the king's small escort was
> trapped and
> overcome, but he escaped into the darkness – alone in the wild fields
> of Rohan
> with no idea of where he was in all the endless miles? 'No good!' he
> thought.
> He drew his sword and tightened his belt.
> The sinking moon was obscured by a great sailing cloud, but suddenly
> it
> rode out clear again. Then they all heard the sound of hoofs, and at
> the same
> moment they saw dark shapes coming swiftly on the path from the
> fords. The
> moonlight glinted here and there on the points of spears. The number
> of the
> pursuers could not be told, but they seemed no fewer than the king's
> escort,
> at the least.
> When they were some fifty paces off, Éomer cried in a loud
> voice: 'Halt!
> Halt! Who rides in Rohan?'
> The pursuers brought their steeds to a sudden stand. A silence
> followed:
> and then in the moonlight, a horseman could be seen dismounting and
> walking
> slowly forward. His hand showed white as he held it up, palm outward,
> in token
> of peace; but the king's men gripped their weapons. At ten paces the
> man
> stopped. He was tall, a dark standing shadow. Then his clear voice
> rang out.
> 'Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in
> haste from long afar.'
> 'You have found it,' said Éomer. 'When you crossed the fords
> yonder you
> entered it. But it is the realm of Théoden the King. None ride
> here save by
> his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?'
> 'Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North I am,' cried the man.
> 'We seek one
> Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard that he was in Rohan.'
> 'And you have found him also!' cried Aragorn. Giving his reins to
> Merry,
> he ran forward and embraced the newcomer. 'Halbarad!' he said. 'Of
> all joys
> this is the least expected!'
> Merry breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that this was some
> last
> trick of Saruman's, to waylay the king while he had only a few men
> about him;
> but it seemed that there would be no need to die in Théoden's
> defence, not yet
> at any rate. He sheathed his sword.
> 'All is well,' said Aragorn, turning back. 'Here are some of my own
> kin
> from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they
> be,
> Halbarad shall tell us.'
> 'I have thirty with me,' said Halbarad. 'That is all of our kindred
> that
> could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have
> ridden
> with us, desiring to go to the war. We rode as swiftly as we might
> when your
> summons came.'
> 'But I did not summon you,' said Aragorn, 'save only in wish. My
> thoughts
> have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have
> sent no
> word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in
> haste and
> danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave.'
> Théoden was indeed glad of the news. 'It is well!' he said.
> 'If these
> kinsmen be in any way like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, thirty such
> knights
> will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads.'
> Then the Riders set out again, and Aragorn for a while rode with the
> Dúnedain; and when they had spoken of tidings in the North and
> in the South,
> Elrohir said to him:
> 'I bring word to you from my father: _The days are short. If thou art
> in
> haste, remember the Paths of the Dead_.'
> 'Always my days have seemed to me too short to achieve my desire,'
> answered Aragorn. 'But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that
> road.'
> 'That will soon be seen,' said Elrohir. 'But let us speak no more of
> these things upon the open road!'
> And Aragorn said to Halbarad: 'What is that that you bear, kinsman?'
> For
> he saw that instead of a spear he bore a tall staff, as it were a
> standard,
> but it was close-furled in a black cloth bound about with many
> thongs.
> 'It is a gift that I bring you from the Lady of Rivendell,' answered
> Halbarad. 'She wrought it in secret, and long was the making. But she
> also
> sends word to you: _The days now are short. Either our hope cometh,
> or all
> hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare
> well,
> Elfstone!_'
> And Aragorn said: 'Now I know what you bear. Bear it still for me a
> while!' And he turned and looked away to the North under the great
> stars, and
> then he fell silent and spoke no more while the night's journey
> lasted.
> The night was old and the East grey when they rode up at last from
> Deeping-coomb and came back to the Hornburg. There they were to lie
> and rest
> for a brief while and take counsel.
> Merry slept until he was roused by Legolas and Gimli. 'The Sun is
> high,'
> said Legolas. 'All others are up and doing. Come, Master Sluggard,
> and look at
> this place while you may!'
> 'There was a battle here three nights ago,' said Gimli, 'and here
> Legolas
> and I played a game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how
> it was!
> And there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them,
> Legolas, do
> you think?'
> 'Nay! There is no time,' said the Elf. 'Do not spoil the wonder with
> haste! I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day
> of peace
> and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that hour
> we eat,
> and then set out again, I hear.'
> Merry got up and yawned. His few hours' sleep had not been nearly
> enough;
> he was tired and rather dismal. He missed Pippin, and felt that he
> was only a
> burden, while everybody was making plans for speed in a business that
> he did
> not fully understand. 'Where is Aragorn?' he asked.
> 'In a high chamber of the Burg,' said Legolas. 'He has neither rested
> nor
> slept, I think. He went thither some hours ago, saying that he must
> take
> thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but some dark
> doubt or
> care sits on him.'
> 'They are a strange company, these newcomers,' said Gimli. 'Stout men
> and
> lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost as boys beside
> them; for
> they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most
> part, even
> as Aragorn himself; and they are silent.'
> 'But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their
> silence.'
> said Legolas. 'And have you marked the brethren Elladan and Elrohir?
> Less
> sombre is their gear than the others', and they are fair and gallant
> as Elvenlords;
> and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of
> Rivendell.'
> 'Why have they come? Have you heard?' asked Merry. He had now
> dressed,
> and he flung his grey cloak about his shoulders; and the three passed
> out
> together towards the ruined gate of the Burg.
> 'They answered a summons, as you heard,' said Gimli. 'Word came to
> Rivendell, they say: _Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the
> Dúnedain ride
> to him in Rohan!_ But whence this message came they are now in doubt.
> Gandalf
> sent it, I would guess.'
> 'Nay, Galadriel,' said Legolas. 'Did she not speak through Gandalf of
> the
> ride of the Grey Company from the North?'
> 'Yes, you have it,' said Gimli. 'The Lady of the Wood! She read many
> hearts and desires. Now why did not we wish for some of our own
> kinsfolk,
> Legolas?'
> Legolas stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north
> and
> east, and his fair face was troubled. 'I do not think that any would
> come,' he
> answered. 'They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on
> their own
> lands.'
> For a while the three companions walked together, speaking of this
> and
> that turn of the battle, and they went down from the broken gate, and
> passed
> the mounds of the fallen on the greensward beside the road, until
> they stood
> on Helm's D i k e and looked into the Coomb. The Death Down already
> stood there,
> black and tall and stony, and the great trampling and scoring of the
> grass by
> the Huorns could be plainly seen. The Dunlendings and many men of the
> garrison
> of the Burg were at work on the D i k e or in the fields and about
> the battered walls behind; yet all seemed strangely quiet: a weary
> valley resting after a great storm. Soon they turned back and went to
> the midday meal in the hall of the Burg.
> The king was already there, and as soon as they entered he called
> for
> Merry and had a seat set for him at his side. 'It is not as I would
> have it,'said Théoden; 'for this is little like my fair house
> in Edoras. And your friend is gone, who should also be here. But it
> may be long ere we sit, you and I, at the high table in Meduseld;
> there will be no time for feasting when I return thither. But come
> now! Eat and drink, and let us speak together while we may. And then
> you shall ride with me.'
> 'May I?' said Merry, surprised and delighted. 'That would be
> splendid!'
> He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. 'I am
> afraid I am
> only in everybody's way,' he stammered; 'but I should like to do
> anything I
> could, you know.'
> 'I doubt it not,' said the king. 'I have had a good hill-pony made
> ready
> for you. He will bear you as swift as any horse by the roads that we
> shall
> take. For I will ride from the Burg by mountain paths, not by the
> plain, and
> so come to Edoras by way of Dunharrow where the Lady Éowyn
> awaits me. You
> shall be my esquire, if you will. Is there gear of war in this place,
> Éomer,
> that my sword-thain could use?'
> 'There are no great weapon-hoards here, lord.' answered Éomer.
> 'Maybe a
> light helm might be found to fit him; but we have no mail or sword
> for one of
> his stature.'
> 'I have a sword,' said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing
> from
> its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love
> for this
> old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. 'May
> I lay the
> sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap Théoden King?' he
> cried. 'Receive
> my service, if you will!'
> 'Gladly will I take it,' said the king; and laying his long old
> hands
> upon the brown hair of the hobbit; he blessed him. 'Rise now,
> Meriadoc,
> esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!' he said. 'Take your
> sword and
> bear it unto good fortune!'
> 'As a father you shall be to me,' said Merry.
> 'For a little while,' said Théoden.
> They talked then together as they ate, until presently Éomer
> spoke. 'It
> is near the hour that we set for our going, lord,' he said. 'Shall I
> bid men
> sound the horns? But where is Aragorn? His place is empty and he has
> not
> eaten.'
> 'We will make ready to ride,' said Théoden; 'but let word be
> sent to the
> Lord Aragorn that the hour is nigh.'
> The king with his guard and Merry at his side passed down from the
> gate
> of the Burg to where the Riders were assembling on the green. Many
> were
> already mounted. It would be a great company; for the king was
> leaving only a
> small garrison in the Burg, and all who could be spared were riding
> to the
> weapontake at Edoras. A thousand spears had indeed already ridden
> away at
> night; but still there would be some five hundred more to go with the
> king,
> for the most part men from the fields and dales of Westfold.
> A little apart the Rangers sat, silent, in an ordered company, armed
> with
> spear and bow and sword. They were clad in cloaks of dark grey, and
> their
> hoods were cast now over helm and head. Their horses were strong and
> of proud
> bearing, but rough-haired; and one stood there without a rider,
> Aragorn's own
> horse that they had brought from the North; Roheryn was his name.
> There was no
> gleam of stone or gold, nor any fair thing in all their gear and
> harness: nor
> did their riders bear any badge or token, save only that each cloak
> was pinned
> upon the left shoulder by a brooch of silver shaped like a rayed
> star.
> The king mounted his horse, Snowmane, and Merry sat beside him on
> his
> pony: Stybba was his name. Presently Éomer came out from the
> gate, and with
> him was Aragorn, and Halbarad bearing the great staff close-furled in
> black,
> and two tall men, neither young nor old So much alike were they, the
> sons of
> Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and
> their
> faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of
> silver-grey.
> Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry had eyes only for
> Aragorn, so
> startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many
> years had
> fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.
> 'I am troubled in mind, lord,' he said, standing by the king's horse.
> 'I
> have heard strange words, and I see new perils far off. I have
> laboured long
> in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me,
> Théoden,
> you ride now to Dunharrow, how long will it be ere you come there?'
> 'It is now a full hour past noon,' said Éomer. 'Before the
> night of the
> third day from now we should come to the Hold. The Moon will then be
> one night
> past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held
> the day
> after. More speed we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be
> gathered.'
> Aragorn was silent for a moment. 'Three days,' he murmured, 'and the
> muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it cannot now be
> hastened.' He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some
> decision; his
> face was less troubled. Then, by our leave, lord, I must take new
> counsel for
> myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in
> secret. For
> me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest
> way, and I
> will take the Paths of the Dead.'
> 'The Paths of the Dead!' said Théoden, and trembled. 'Why do
> you speak of
> them?' Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it seemed to
> Merry that the
> faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words.
> 'If
> there be in truth such paths,' said Théoden, 'their gate is in
> Dunharrow; but
> no living man may pass it.'
> 'Alas! Aragorn my friend!' said Éomer. 'I had hoped that we
> should ride
> to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our
> parting is
> come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the
> Sun.'
> 'That road I will take, nonetheless,' said Aragorn. 'But I say to
> you,
> Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the
> hosts of Mordor
> should stand between.'
> 'You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,' said Théoden. 'It
> is your
> doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This
> parting grieves
> me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the
> mountain-roads
> and delay no longer. Farewell!'
> 'Farewell, lord!' said Aragorn. 'Ride unto great renown! Farewell,
> Merry!
> I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped when we hunted the
> orcs to
> Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we
> shall not
> forget you.'
> 'Good-bye!' said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very
> small,
> and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy words. More than
> ever he
> missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were
> ready, and
> their horses were fidgeting; he wished they would start arid get it
> over.
> Now Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand
> and cried aloud,
> and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode over the D i k e
> and down the
> Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that
> skirted the
> foothills for a mile or so, until bending south it passed back among
> the hills
> and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode to the D i k e and watched
> till the
> king's men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.
> 'There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,' he
> said.
> 'He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go
> on.'
> 'A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,' said
> Halbarad.
> 'Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their
> borders,
> and yet I grudge it not.'
> 'And now our fates are woven together,' said Aragorn. 'And yet,
> alas!
> here we must part. Well, I must eat a little, and then we also must
> hasten
> away. Come, Legolas and Gimli! I must speak with you as I eat.'
> Together they went back into the Burg; yet for some time Aragorn sat
> silent at the table in the hall, and the others waited for him to
> speak.
> 'Come!' said Legolas at last. 'Speak and be comforted, and shake off
> the
> shadow! What has happened since we came back to this grim place in
> the grey
> morning?'
> 'A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than the battle of the
> Hornburg,' answered Aragorn. 'I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc,
> my
> friends.'
> 'You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry!' exclaimed
> Gimli
> with fear and astonishment in his face. 'Did you say aught to – him?
> Even
> Gandalf feared that encounter.'
> 'You forget to whom you speak,' said Aragorn sternly, and his eyes
> glinted. 'Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of
> Edoras? What
> do you fear that I should say to him? Nay, Gimli,' he said in a
> softer voice,
> and the grimness left his face, and he looked like one who has
> laboured in
> sleepless pain for many nights. 'Nay, my friends, I and the lawful
> master of
> the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so
> I
> judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough –
> barely.'
> He drew a deep breath. 'It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness
> is
> slow to pass. I spoke no word to him, and in the end I wrenched the
> Stone to
> my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld
> me. Yes,
> Master Gimli, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If
> that will
> aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I
> lived and
> walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I deem; for he knew it not
> till now.
> The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armour of Théoden;
> but Sauron has
> not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil. Now in the very hour
> of his
> great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I
> showed the
> blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above
> fear; nay,
> doubt ever gnaws him.'
> 'But he wields great dominion, nonetheless,' said Gimli; 'and now he
> will
> strike more swiftly.'
> 'The hasty stroke goes oft astray,' said Aragorn. 'We must press our
> Enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. See my friends, when
> I had
> mastered the Stone, I learned many things. A grave peril I saw
> coming
> unlooked-for upon Gondor from the South that will draw off great
> strength from
> the defence of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, I deem
> that the
> City will be lost ere ten days be gone.'
> 'Then lost it must be,' said Gimli. 'For what help is there to send
> thither, and how could it come there in time?'
> 'I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself,' said Aragorn.
> 'But
> there is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to
> the
> coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead.'
> 'The Paths of the Dead!' said Gimli. 'It is a fell name; and little
> to
> the liking to the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a
> road and
> not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to
> counter
> the strokes of Mordor?'
> 'The living have never used that road since the coming of the
> Rohirrim,'
> said Aragorn, 'for it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the
> heir of
> Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen! This is the word that the
> sons of
> Elrond bring to me from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore:
> _Bid
> Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead_.'
> 'And what may be the words of the seer?' said Legolas.
> "Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king
> at
> Fornost,' said Aragorn:
> Over the land there lies a long shadow,
> westward reaching wings of darkness.
> The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
> doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
> for the hour is come for the oathbreakers;
> at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
> and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
> Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
> from the prey twilight, the forgotten people?
> The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
> From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
> he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
> 'Dark ways doubtless, said Gimli, but no darker than these staves are
> to
> me.'
> 'If you would understand them better, then I bid you come with me,'
> said
> Aragorn; 'for that way I now shall take. But I do not go gladly; only
> need
> drives me. Therefore, only of your free will would I have you come,
> for you
> will find both toil and great fear, and maybe worse.'
> 'I will go with you even on the Paths of the Dead, and to whatever,
> end
> they may lead,' said Gimli.
> 'I also will come,' said Legolas, 'for I do not fear the Dead.'
> 'I hope that the forgotten people will not have forgotten how to
> fight,'
> said Gimli; 'for otherwise I see not why we should trouble them.'
> 'That we shall know if ever we come to Erech,' said Aragorn. 'But
> the
> oath that they broke was to fight against Sauron, and they must
> fight
> therefore, if they are to fulfil it. For at Erech there stands yet a
> black
> stone that was brought, it was said, from Númenor by Isildur;
> and it was set
> upon a hill, and upon it the King of the Mountains swore allegiance
> to him in
> the beginning of the realm of Gondor. But when Sauron returned and
> grew in
> might again, Isildur summoned the Men of the Mountains to fulfil
> their oath,
> and they would not: for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark
> Years.
> 'Then Isildur said to their king: "Thou shalt be the last king.
> And if
> the West prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon
> thee and
> thy folk: to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war
> will last
> through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the
> end."
> And they fled before the wrath of Isildur, and did not dare to go
> forth to war
> on Sauron's part; and they hid themselves in secret places in the
> mountains
> and had no dealings with other men, but slowly dwindled in the barren
> hills.
> And the terror of the Sleepless Dead lies about the Hill of Erech and
> all
> places where that people lingered. But that way I must go, since
> there are
> none living to help me.'
> He stood up. 'Come!' he cried, and drew his sword, and it flashed in
> the
> twilit hall of the Burg. 'To the Stone of Erech! I seek the Paths of
> the Dead.
> Come with me who will!'
> Legolas and Gimli made no answer, but they rose and followed Aragorn
> from
> the hall. On the green there waited, still and silent, the hooded
> Rangers.
> Legolas and Gimli mounted. Aragorn sprang upon Roheryn. Then Halbarad
> lifted a
> great horn, and the blast of it echoed in Helm's Deep; and with that
> they
> leapt away, riding down the Coomb like thunder, while all the men
> that were
> left on D i k e or Burg stared in amaze.
> And while Théoden went by slow paths in the hills, the Grey
> Company
> passed swiftly over the plain, and on the next day in the afternoon
> they came
> to Edoras; and there they halted only briefly, ere they passed up the
> valley,
> and so came to Dunharrow as darkness fell.
> The Lady Éowyn greeted them and was glad of their coming; for
> no mightier
> men had she seen than the Dúnedain and the fair sons of
> Elrond; but on Aragorn
> most of all her eyes rested. And when they sat at supper with her,
> they talked
> together, and she heard of all that had passed since Théoden
> rode away,
> concerning which only hasty tidings had yet reached her; and when she
> heard of
> the battle in Helm's Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and
> of the
> charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.
> But at last she said: 'Lords, you are weary and shall now go to your
> beds
> with such ease as can be contrived in haste. But tomorrow fairer
> housing shall
> be found for you.'
> But Aragorn said: 'Nay, lady, be not troubled for us! If we may lie
> here
> tonight and break our fast tomorrow, it will be enough. For I ride on
> an
> errand most urgent, and with the first light of morning we must go.'
> She smiled on him and said: 'Then it was kindly done, lord, to ride
> so
> many miles out of your way to bring tidings to Éowyn, and to
> speak with her in
> her exile.'
> 'Indeed no man would count such a journey wasted,' said Aragorn;
> 'and
> yet, lady, I could not have come hither, if it were not that the road
> which I
> must take leads me to Dunharrow.'
> And she answered as one that likes not what is said: "Then,
> lord, you are
> astray; for out of Harrowdale no road runs east or south; and you had
> best
> return as you came.'
> 'Nay, lady,' said he, 'I am not astray; for I walked in this land ere
> you
> were born to grace it. There is a road out of this valley, and that
> road I
> shall take. Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead.'
> Then she stared at him as one that is stricken, and her face
> blanched,
> and for long she spoke no more, while all sat silent. 'But, Aragorn,'
> she said
> at last, 'is it then your errand to seek death? For that is all that
> you will
> find on that road. They do not suffer the living to pass.'
> 'They may suffer me to pass,' said Aragorn; 'but at the least I will
> adventure it. No other road will serve.'
> 'But this is madness,' she said. 'For here are men of renown and
> prowess,
> whom you should not take into the shadows, but should lead to war,
> where men
> are needed. I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then
> all our
> hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter.'
> 'It is not madness, lady,' he answered; 'for I go on a path
> appointed.
> But those who follow me do so of their free will; and if they wish
> now to
> remain and ride with the Rohirrim, they may do so. But I shall take
> the Paths
> of the Dead, alone, if needs be.'
> Then they said no more, and they ate in silence; but her eyes were
> ever
> upon Aragorn, and the others saw that she was in great torment of
> mind. At
> length they arose, and took their leave of the Lady, and thanked her
> for her
> care, and went to their rest.
> But as Aragorn came to the booth where he was to lodge with Legolas
> and
> Gimli, and his companions had gone in. there came the Lady
> Éowyn after him and
> called to him. He turned and saw her as a glimmer in the night, for
> she was
> clad in white; but her eyes were on fire.
> 'Aragorn,' she said, 'why will you go on this deadly road?'
> 'Because I must,' he said. 'Only so can I see any hope of doing my
> part
> in the war against Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril,
> Éowyn. Were I to go
> where my heart dwells, far in the North I would now be wandering in
> the fair
> valley of Rivendell.'
> For a while she was silent, as if pondering what this might mean.
> Then
> suddenly she laid her hand on his arm. 'You are a stern lord and
> resolute,'
> she said; 'and thus do men win renown.' She paused. 'Lord.' she said,
> 'if you
> must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of
> skulking in the
> hills, and wish to face peril and battle.'
> 'Your duty is with your people,' he answered.
> 'Too often have I heard of duty,' she cried. 'But am I not of the
> House
> of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse? I have waited on
> faltering feet
> long enough. Since they falter no longer, it seems, may I not now
> spend my
> life as I will?'
> 'Few may do that with honour,' he answered. 'But as for you, lady:
> did
> you not accept the charge to govern the people until their lord's
> return? If
> you had not been chosen, then some marshal or captain would have been
> set in
> the same place, and he could not ride away from his charge, were he
> weary of
> it or no.'
> 'Shall I always be chosen?' she said bitterly. 'Shall I always be
> left
> behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win
> renown, and
> find food and beds when they return?'
> 'A time may come soon,' said he, 'when none will return. Then there
> will
> be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds
> that are
> done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be
> less valiant
> because they are unpraised.'
> And she answered: 'All your words are but to say: you are a woman,
> and
> your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and
> honour,
> you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no
> more.
> But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and
> wield
> blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'
> 'What do you fear, lady?' he asked.
> 'A cage,' she said. 'To stay behind bars, until use and old age
> accept
> them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or
> desire.'
> 'And yet you counselled me not to adventure on the road that I had
> chosen, because it is perilous?'
> 'So may one counsel another,' she said. 'Yet I do not bid you flee
> from
> peril, but to ride to battle where your sword may win renown and
> victory. I
> would not see a thing that is high and excellent cast away
> needlessly.'
> 'Nor would I,' he said. 'Therefore I say to you, lady: Stay! For you
> have
> no errand to the South.'
> 'Neither have those others who go with thee. They go only because
> they
> would not be parted from thee – because they love thee.' Then she
> turned and
> vanished into the night.
> When the light of day was come into the sky but the sun was not yet
> risen
> above the high ridges in the East, Aragorn made ready to depart. His
> company
> was all mounted, and he was about to leap into the saddle, when the
> Lady Éowyn
> came to bid them farewell. She was clad as a Rider and girt with a
> sword. In
> her hand she bore a cup, and she set it to her lips and drank a
> little,
> wishing them good speed; and then she gave the cup to Aragorn, and he
> drank,
> and he said: 'Farewell, Lady of Rohan! I drink to the fortunes of
> your House,
> and of you, and of all your people. Say to your brother: beyond the
> shadows we
> may meet again!'
> Then it seemed to Gimli and Legolas who were nearby that she wept,
> and in
> one so stern and proud that seemed the more grievous. But she said:
> 'Aragorn,
> wilt thou go?'
> 'I will,' he said.
> 'Then wilt thou not let me ride with this company, as I have asked?'
> 'I will not, lady,' he said. 'For that I could not grant without
> leave of
> the king and of your brother; and they will not return until
> tomorrow. But I
> count now every hour, indeed every minute. Farewell!'
> Then she fell on her knees, saying: 'I beg thee!'
> 'Nay, lady,' he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then
> he
> kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did
> not look
> back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the
> pain that
> he bore.
> But Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone, her hands
> clenched at
> her sides, and she watched them until they passed into the shadows
> under the
> black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Gate of the
> Dead.
> When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is
> blind, and
> went back to her lodging. But none of her folk saw this parting, for
> they hid
> themselves in fear and would not come forth until the day was up, and
> the
> reckless strangers were gone.
> And some said: 'They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they
> belong,
> into the dark places, and never return. The times are evil enough.'
> The light was still grey as they rode, for the sun had not yet
> climbed
> over the black ridges of the Haunted Mountain before them. A dread
> fell on
> them, even as they passed between the lines of ancient stones and so
> came to
> the Dimholt. There under the gloom of black trees that not even
> Legolas could
> long endure they found a hollow place opening at the mountain's root,
> and
> right in their path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of
> doom.
> 'My blood runs chill,' said Gimli, but the others were silent, and
> his
> voice fell dead on the dank fir-needles at his feet. The horses would
> not pass
> the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and led them
> about. And so
> they came at last deep into the glen; and there stood a sheer wall of
> rock,
> and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before them like the mouth of
> night. Signs
> and figures were carved above its wide arch too dim to read, and fear
> flowed
> from it like a grey vapour.
> The company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did
> not
> quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves, for whom the
> ghosts
> of Men have no terror.
> 'This is an evil door,' said Halbarad, 'and my death lies beyond it.
> I
> will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter.'
> 'But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too,' said
> Aragorn.
> 'For if ever we come through this darkness, many leagues lie beyond,
> and every
> hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer.
> Follow me!'
> Then Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in
> that
> hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed him. And
> indeed the love
> that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great
> that they
> were willing to face even the terror of the Door, if their masters'
> hearts
> were steady as they walked beside them. But Arod, the horse of Rohan,
> refused
> the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was
> grievous to
> see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that
> went
> soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas
> passed in.
> And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.
> His knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. 'Here is a thing
> unheard
> of!' he said. 'An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!' With
> that he
> plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead
> over the
> threshold; and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli
> Glóin's son
> who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.
> Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and now he went ahead
> bearing
> one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the rear, and Gimli,
> stumbling
> behind, strove to overtake him. He could see nothing but the dim
> flame of the
> torches; but if the company halted, there seemed an endless whisper
> of voices
> all about him, a murmur of words in no tongue that he had ever heard
> before.
> Nothing assailed the company nor withstood their passage, and yet
> steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all because he
> knew now
> that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were
> thronged by an
> unseen host that followed in the dark.
> So time unreckoned passed, until Gimli saw a sight that he was ever
> afterwards loth to recall. The road was wide, as far as he could
> judge, but
> now the company came suddenly into a great empty space, and there
> were no
> longer any walls upon either side. The dread was so heavy on him that
> he could
> hardly walk. Away to the left something glittered in the gloom as
> Aragorn's
> torch drew near. Then Aragorn halted and went to look what it might
> be.
> 'Does he feel no fear?' muttered the Dwarf. 'In any other cave Gimli
> Glóin's son would have been the first to run to the gleam of
> gold. But not
> here! Let it lie!'
> Nonetheless he drew near, and saw Aragorn kneeling, while Elladan
> held
> aloft both torches. Before him were the bones of a mighty man. He had
> been
> clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's
> air was
> as dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and
> garnets,
> and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward on
> the floor.
> He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen,
> and before
> him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still
> clawing at the
> cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he had hewn at
> the rock
> in his last despair.
> Aragorn did not touch him, but after gazing silently for a while he
> rose
> and sighed. 'Hither shall the flowers of _simbelmynë_ come never
> unto world's
> end,' he murmured. 'Nine mounds and seven there are now green with
> grass, and
> through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not
> unlock.
> Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!
> 'For that is not my errand!' he cried, turning back and speaking to
> the
> whispering darkness behind. 'Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden
> in the
> Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I
> summon you to
> the Stone of Erech!'
> There was no answer, unless it were an utter silence more dreadful
> than
> the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the
> torches
> flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled. Of the time that
> followed,
> one hour or many, Gimli remembered little. The others pressed on, but
> he was
> ever hindmost, pursued by a groping horror that seemed always just
> about to
> seize him; and a rumour came after him like the shadow-sound of many
> feet. He
> stumbled on until he was crawling like a beast on the ground and felt
> that he
> could endure no more: he must either find an ending and escape or run
> back in
> madness to meet the following fear.
> Suddenly he heard the tinkle of water, a sound hard and clear as a
> stone
> falling into a dream of dark shadow. Light grew, and lo! the company
> passed
> through another gateway, high-arched and broad, and a rill ran out
> beside
> them; and beyond, going steeply down, was a road between sheer
> cliffs, knifeedged
> against the sky far above. So deep and narrow was that chasm that
> the
> sky was dark, and in it small stars glinted. Yet as Gimli after
> learned it was
> still two hours ere sunset of the day on which they had set out from
> Dunharrow; though for all that he could then tell it might have been
> twilight
> in some later year, or in some other world.
> The Company now mounted again, and Gimli returned to Legolas. They
> rode
> in file, and evening came on and a deep blue dusk; and still fear
> pursued
> them. Legolas turning to speak to Gimli looked back and the Dwarf saw
> before
> his face the glitter in the Elf's bright eyes. Behind them rode
> Elladan, last
> of the Company, but not the last of those that took the downward
> road.
> 'The Dead are following,' said Legolas. 'I see shapes of Men and of
> horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like
> winter-thickets
> on a misty night. The Dead are following.'
> 'Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned,' said Elladan.
> The Company came at last out of the ravine, as suddenly as it they
> had
> issued from a crack in a wall; and there lay the uplands of a great
> vale
> before them, and the stream beside them went down with a cold voice
> over many
> falls.
> 'Where in Middle-earth are we?' said Gimli; and Elladan answered:
> 'We
> have descended from the uprising of the Morthond, the long chill
> river that
> flows at last to the sea that washes the walls of Dol Amroth. You
> will not
> need to ask hereafter how comes its name: Blackroot men call it.'
> The Morthond Vale made a great bay that beat up against the sheer
> southern faces of the mountains. Its steep slopes were grass-grown;
> but all
> was grey in that hour, for the sun had gone, and far below lights
> twinkled in
> the homes of Men. The vale was rich and many folk dwelt there.
> Then without turning Aragorn cried aloud so that all could hear:
> 'Friends, forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the
> Stone of
> Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way.' So without
> looking back
> they rode the mountain-fields, until they came to a bridge over the
> growing
> torrent and found a road that went down into the land.
> Lights went out in house and hamlet as they came, and doors were
> shut,
> and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted
> deer. Ever
> there rose the same cry in the gathering night: 'The King of the
> Dead! The
> King of the Dead is come upon us!'
> Bells were ringing far below, and all men fled before the face of
> Aragorn; but the Grey Company in their haste rode like hunters, until
> their
> horses were stumbling with weariness. And thus, just ere midnight,
> and in a
> darkness as black as the caverns in the mountains, they came at last
> to the
> Hill of Erech.
> Long had the terror of the Dead lain upon that hill and upon the
> empty
> fields about it. For upon the top stood a black stone, round as a
> great globe,
> the height of a man, though its half was buried in the ground.
> Unearthly it
> looked, as though it had fallen from the sky, as some believed; but
> those who
> remembered still the lore of Westernesse told that it had been
> brought out of
> the ruin of Númenor and there set by Isildur at his landing.
> None of the
> people of the valley dared to approach it, nor would they dwell near;
> for they
> said that it was a trysting-place of the Shadow-men, and there they
> would
> gather in times of fear, thronging round the Stone and whispering.
> To that Stone the Company came and halted in the dead of night. Then
> Elrohir gave to Aragorn a silver horn, and he blew upon it and it
> seemed to
> those that stood near that they heard a sound of answering horns, as
> if it was
> an echo in deep caves far away. No other sound they heard, and yet
> they were
> aware of a great host gathered all about the hill on which they
> stood; and a
> chill wind like the breath of ghosts came down from the mountains.
> But Aragorn
> dismounted, and standing by the Stone he cried in a great voice:
> 'Oathbreakers, why have ye come?'
> And a voice was heard out of the night that answered him, as if from
> far
> away:
> 'To fulfil our oath and have peace.'
> Then Aragorn said: 'The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir
> upon
> Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean
> of the
> servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have
> peace
> and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor.'
> And with that he bade Halbarad unfurl the great standard which he
> had
> brought; and behold! it was black, and if there was any device upon
> it, it was
> hidden in the darkness. Then there was silence, and not a whisper nor
> a sigh
> was heard again all the long night. The Company camped beside the
> Stone, but
> they slept little, because of the dread of the Shadows that hedged
> them round.
> But when the dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn rose at once, and he
> led
> the Company forth upon the journey of greatest haste and weariness
> that any
> among them had known, save he alone, and only his will held them to
> go on. No
> other mortal Men could have endured it, none but the Dúnedain
> of the North,
> and with them Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas of the Elves.
> They passed Tarlang's Neck and came into Lamedon; and the Shadow
> Host
> pressed behind and fear went on before them, until they came to
> Calembel upon
> Ciril, and the sun went down like blood behind Pinnath Gelin away in
> the West
> behind them. The township and the fords of Ciril they found deserted,
> for many
> men had gone away to war, and all that were left fled to the hills at
> the
> rumour of the coming of the King of the Dead. But the next day there
> came no
> dawn, and the Grey Company passed on into the darkness of the Storm
> of Mordor
> and were lost to mortal sight; but the Dead followed them.
Take it easy now...
Chapter 2_
The Passing of the Grey Company
Gandalf was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Shadowfax were lost in the
night, when Merry came back to Aragorn. He had only a light bundle, for he had
lost his pack at Parth Galen, and all he had was a few useful things he had
picked up among the wreckage of Isengard. Hasufel was already saddled. Legolas
and Gimli with their horse stood close by.
'So four of the Company still remain,' said Aragorn. 'We will ride on
together. But we shall not go alone, as I thought. The king is now determined
to set out at once. Since the coming of the winged shadow, he desires to
return to the hills under cover of night.'
'And then whither?' said Legolas.
'I cannot say yet,' Aragorn answered. 'As for the king, he will go to the
muster that he commanded at Edoras, four nights from now. And there, I think,
he will hear tidings of war, and the Riders of Rohan will go down to Minas
Tirith. But for myself, and any that will go with me . . .'
'I for one!' cried Legolas. 'And Gimli with him!' said the Dwarf.
'Well, for myself,' said Aragorn, 'it is dark before me. I must go down
also to Minas Tirith, but I do not yet see the road. An hour long prepared
approaches.'
'Don't leave me behind!' said Merry. 'I have not been of much use yet;
but I don't want to be laid aside, like baggage to be called for when all is
over. I don't think the Riders will want to be bothered with me now. Though,
of course, the king did say that I was to sit by him when he came to his house
and tell him all about the Shire.'
'Yes,' said Aragorn, 'and your road lies with him, I think, Merry. But do
not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere Théoden sits at
ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.'
Soon all were ready to depart: twenty-four horses, with Gimli behind
Legolas, and Merry in front of Aragorn. Presently they were riding swiftly
through the night. They had not long passed the mounds at the Fords of Isen,
when a Rider galloped up from the rear of their line.
'My lord,' he said to the king, 'there are horsemen behind us. As we
crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They are
overtaking us, riding hard.'
Théoden at once called a halt. The Riders turned about and seized their
spears. Aragorn dismounted and set Merry on the ground, and drawing his sword
he stood by the king's stirrup. Éomer and his esquire rode back to the rear.
Merry felt more like unneeded baggage than ever, and he wondered, if there was
a fight, what he should do. Supposing the king's small escort was trapped and
overcome, but he escaped into the darkness – alone in the wild fields of Rohan
with no idea of where he was in all the endless miles? 'No good!' he thought.
He drew his sword and tightened his belt.
The sinking moon was obscured by a great sailing cloud, but suddenly it
rode out clear again. Then they all heard the sound of hoofs, and at the same
moment they saw dark shapes coming swiftly on the path from the fords. The
moonlight glinted here and there on the points of spears. The number of the
pursuers could not be told, but they seemed no fewer than the king's escort,
at the least.
When they were some fifty paces off, Éomer cried in a loud voice: 'Halt!
Halt! Who rides in Rohan?'
The pursuers brought their steeds to a sudden stand. A silence followed:
and then in the moonlight, a horseman could be seen dismounting and walking
slowly forward. His hand showed white as he held it up, palm outward, in token
of peace; but the king's men gripped their weapons. At ten paces the man
stopped. He was tall, a dark standing shadow. Then his clear voice rang out.
'Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in
haste from long afar.'
'You have found it,' said Éomer. 'When you crossed the fords yonder you
entered it. But it is the realm of Théoden the King. None ride here save by
his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?'
'Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North I am,' cried the man. 'We seek one
Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard that he was in Rohan.'
'And you have found him also!' cried Aragorn. Giving his reins to Merry,
he ran forward and embraced the newcomer. 'Halbarad!' he said. 'Of all joys
this is the least expected!'
Merry breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that this was some last
trick of Saruman's, to waylay the king while he had only a few men about him;
but it seemed that there would be no need to die in Théoden's defence, not yet
at any rate. He sheathed his sword.
'All is well,' said Aragorn, turning back. 'Here are some of my own kin
from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they be,
Halbarad shall tell us.'
'I have thirty with me,' said Halbarad. 'That is all of our kindred that
could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have ridden
with us, desiring to go to the war. We rode as swiftly as we might when your
summons came.'
'But I did not summon you,' said Aragorn, 'save only in wish. My thoughts
have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have sent no
word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in haste and
danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave.'
Théoden was indeed glad of the news. 'It is well!' he said. 'If these
kinsmen be in any way like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, thirty such knights
will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads.'
Then the Riders set out again, and Aragorn for a while rode with the
Dúnedain; and when they had spoken of tidings in the North and in the South,
Elrohir said to him:
'I bring word to you from my father: _The days are short. If thou art in
haste, remember the Paths of the Dead_.'
'Always my days have seemed to me too short to achieve my desire,'
answered Aragorn. 'But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road.'
'That will soon be seen,' said Elrohir. 'But let us speak no more of
these things upon the open road!'
And Aragorn said to Halbarad: 'What is that that you bear, kinsman?' For
he saw that instead of a spear he bore a tall staff, as it were a standard,
but it was close-furled in a black cloth bound about with many thongs.
'It is a gift that I bring you from the Lady of Rivendell,' answered
Halbarad. 'She wrought it in secret, and long was the making. But she also
sends word to you: _The days now are short. Either our hope cometh, or all
hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare well,
Elfstone!_'
And Aragorn said: 'Now I know what you bear. Bear it still for me a
while!' And he turned and looked away to the North under the great stars, and
then he fell silent and spoke no more while the night's journey lasted.
The night was old and the East grey when they rode up at last from
Deeping-coomb and came back to the Hornburg. There they were to lie and rest
for a brief while and take counsel.
Merry slept until he was roused by Legolas and Gimli. 'The Sun is high,'
said Legolas. 'All others are up and doing. Come, Master Sluggard, and look at
this place while you may!'
'There was a battle here three nights ago,' said Gimli, 'and here Legolas
and I played a game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how it was!
And there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them, Legolas, do
you think?'
'Nay! There is no time,' said the Elf. 'Do not spoil the wonder with
haste! I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day of peace
and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that hour we eat,
and then set out again, I hear.'
Merry got up and yawned. His few hours' sleep had not been nearly enough;
he was tired and rather dismal. He missed Pippin, and felt that he was only a
burden, while everybody was making plans for speed in a business that he did
not fully understand. 'Where is Aragorn?' he asked.
'In a high chamber of the Burg,' said Legolas. 'He has neither rested nor
slept, I think. He went thither some hours ago, saying that he must take
thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but some dark doubt or
care sits on him.'
'They are a strange company, these newcomers,' said Gimli. 'Stout men and
lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost as boys beside them; for
they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most part, even
as Aragorn himself; and they are silent.'
'But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their silence.'
said Legolas. 'And have you marked the brethren Elladan and Elrohir? Less
sombre is their gear than the others', and they are fair and gallant as Elvenlords;
and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell.'
'Why have they come? Have you heard?' asked Merry. He had now dressed,
and he flung his grey cloak about his shoulders; and the three passed out
together towards the ruined gate of the Burg.
'They answered a summons, as you heard,' said Gimli. 'Word came to
Rivendell, they say: _Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride
to him in Rohan!_ But whence this message came they are now in doubt. Gandalf
sent it, I would guess.'
'Nay, Galadriel,' said Legolas. 'Did she not speak through Gandalf of the
ride of the Grey Company from the North?'
'Yes, you have it,' said Gimli. 'The Lady of the Wood! She read many
hearts and desires. Now why did not we wish for some of our own kinsfolk,
Legolas?'
Legolas stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north and
east, and his fair face was troubled. 'I do not think that any would come,' he
answered. 'They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on their own
lands.'
For a while the three companions walked together, speaking of this and
that turn of the battle, and they went down from the broken gate, and passed
the mounds of the fallen on the greensward beside the road, until they stood
on Helm's D i k e and looked into the Coomb. The Death Down already stood there,
black and tall and stony, and the great trampling and scoring of the grass by
the Huorns could be plainly seen. The Dunlendings and many men of the garrison
of the Burg were at work on the D i k e or in the fields and about the battered walls behind; yet all seemed strangely quiet: a weary valley resting after a great storm. Soon they turned back and went to the midday meal in the hall of the Burg.
The king was already there, and as soon as they entered he called for
Merry and had a seat set for him at his side. 'It is not as I would have it,'said Théoden; 'for this is little like my fair house in Edoras. And your friend is gone, who should also be here. But it may be long ere we sit, you and I, at the high table in Meduseld; there will be no time for feasting when I return thither. But come now! Eat and drink, and let us speak together while we may. And then you shall ride with me.'
'May I?' said Merry, surprised and delighted. 'That would be splendid!'
He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. 'I am afraid I am
only in everybody's way,' he stammered; 'but I should like to do anything I
could, you know.'
'I doubt it not,' said the king. 'I have had a good hill-pony made ready
for you. He will bear you as swift as any horse by the roads that we shall
take. For I will ride from the Burg by mountain paths, not by the plain, and
so come to Edoras by way of Dunharrow where the Lady Éowyn awaits me. You
shall be my esquire, if you will. Is there gear of war in this place, Éomer,
that my sword-thain could use?'
'There are no great weapon-hoards here, lord.' answered Éomer. 'Maybe a
light helm might be found to fit him; but we have no mail or sword for one of
his stature.'
'I have a sword,' said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing from
its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love for this
old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. 'May I lay the
sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap Théoden King?' he cried. 'Receive
my service, if you will!'
'Gladly will I take it,' said the king; and laying his long old hands
upon the brown hair of the hobbit; he blessed him. 'Rise now, Meriadoc,
esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!' he said. 'Take your sword and
bear it unto good fortune!'
'As a father you shall be to me,' said Merry.
'For a little while,' said Théoden.
They talked then together as they ate, until presently Éomer spoke. 'It
is near the hour that we set for our going, lord,' he said. 'Shall I bid men
sound the horns? But where is Aragorn? His place is empty and he has not
eaten.'
'We will make ready to ride,' said Théoden; 'but let word be sent to the
Lord Aragorn that the hour is nigh.'
The king with his guard and Merry at his side passed down from the gate
of the Burg to where the Riders were assembling on the green. Many were
already mounted. It would be a great company; for the king was leaving only a
small garrison in the Burg, and all who could be spared were riding to the
weapontake at Edoras. A thousand spears had indeed already ridden away at
night; but still there would be some five hundred more to go with the king,
for the most part men from the fields and dales of Westfold.
A little apart the Rangers sat, silent, in an ordered company, armed with
spear and bow and sword. They were clad in cloaks of dark grey, and their
hoods were cast now over helm and head. Their horses were strong and of proud
bearing, but rough-haired; and one stood there without a rider, Aragorn's own
horse that they had brought from the North; Roheryn was his name. There was no
gleam of stone or gold, nor any fair thing in all their gear and harness: nor
did their riders bear any badge or token, save only that each cloak was pinned
upon the left shoulder by a brooch of silver shaped like a rayed star.
The king mounted his horse, Snowmane, and Merry sat beside him on his
pony: Stybba was his name. Presently Éomer came out from the gate, and with
him was Aragorn, and Halbarad bearing the great staff close-furled in black,
and two tall men, neither young nor old So much alike were they, the sons of
Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their
faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey.
Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry had eyes only for Aragorn, so
startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many years had
fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.
'I am troubled in mind, lord,' he said, standing by the king's horse. 'I
have heard strange words, and I see new perils far off. I have laboured long
in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me, Théoden,
you ride now to Dunharrow, how long will it be ere you come there?'
'It is now a full hour past noon,' said Éomer. 'Before the night of the
third day from now we should come to the Hold. The Moon will then be one night
past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held the day
after. More speed we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be gathered.'
Aragorn was silent for a moment. 'Three days,' he murmured, 'and the
muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it cannot now be
hastened.' He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some decision; his
face was less troubled. Then, by our leave, lord, I must take new counsel for
myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For
me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest way, and I
will take the Paths of the Dead.'
'The Paths of the Dead!' said Théoden, and trembled. 'Why do you speak of
them?' Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it seemed to Merry that the
faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words. 'If
there be in truth such paths,' said Théoden, 'their gate is in Dunharrow; but
no living man may pass it.'
'Alas! Aragorn my friend!' said Éomer. 'I had hoped that we should ride
to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our parting is
come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the Sun.'
'That road I will take, nonetheless,' said Aragorn. 'But I say to you,
Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor
should stand between.'
'You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,' said Théoden. 'It is your
doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This parting grieves
me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the mountain-roads
and delay no longer. Farewell!'
'Farewell, lord!' said Aragorn. 'Ride unto great renown! Farewell, Merry!
I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped when we hunted the orcs to
Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we shall not
forget you.'
'Good-bye!' said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very small,
and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy words. More than ever he
missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were ready, and
their horses were fidgeting; he wished they would start arid get it over.
Now Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand and cried aloud,
and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode over the D i k e and down the
Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that skirted the
foothills for a mile or so, until bending south it passed back among the hills
and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode to the D i k e and watched till the
king's men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.
'There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,' he said.
'He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go on.'
'A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,' said Halbarad.
'Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their borders,
and yet I grudge it not.'
'And now our fates are woven together,' said Aragorn. 'And yet, alas!
here we must part. Well, I must eat a little, and then we also must hasten
away. Come, Legolas and Gimli! I must speak with you as I eat.'
Together they went back into the Burg; yet for some time Aragorn sat
silent at the table in the hall, and the others waited for him to speak.
'Come!' said Legolas at last. 'Speak and be comforted, and shake off the
shadow! What has happened since we came back to this grim place in the grey
morning?'
'A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than the battle of the
Hornburg,' answered Aragorn. 'I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc, my
friends.'
'You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry!' exclaimed Gimli
with fear and astonishment in his face. 'Did you say aught to – him? Even
Gandalf feared that encounter.'
'You forget to whom you speak,' said Aragorn sternly, and his eyes
glinted. 'Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of Edoras? What
do you fear that I should say to him? Nay, Gimli,' he said in a softer voice,
and the grimness left his face, and he looked like one who has laboured in
sleepless pain for many nights. 'Nay, my friends, I and the lawful master of
the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I
judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough – barely.'
He drew a deep breath. 'It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness is
slow to pass. I spoke no word to him, and in the end I wrenched the Stone to
my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld me. Yes,
Master Gimli, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If that will
aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I lived and
walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I deem; for he knew it not till now.
The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armour of Théoden; but Sauron has
not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil. Now in the very hour of his
great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I showed the
blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay,
doubt ever gnaws him.'
'But he wields great dominion, nonetheless,' said Gimli; 'and now he will
strike more swiftly.'
'The hasty stroke goes oft astray,' said Aragorn. 'We must press our
Enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. See my friends, when I had
mastered the Stone, I learned many things. A grave peril I saw coming
unlooked-for upon Gondor from the South that will draw off great strength from
the defence of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, I deem that the
City will be lost ere ten days be gone.'
'Then lost it must be,' said Gimli. 'For what help is there to send
thither, and how could it come there in time?'
'I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself,' said Aragorn. 'But
there is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to the
coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead.'
'The Paths of the Dead!' said Gimli. 'It is a fell name; and little to
the liking to the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a road and
not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to counter
the strokes of Mordor?'
'The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim,'
said Aragorn, 'for it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the heir of
Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen! This is the word that the sons of
Elrond bring to me from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore: _Bid
Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead_.'
'And what may be the words of the seer?' said Legolas.
"Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king at
Fornost,' said Aragorn:
Over the land there lies a long shadow,
westward reaching wings of darkness.
The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
for the hour is come for the oathbreakers;
at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
from the prey twilight, the forgotten people?
The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
'Dark ways doubtless, said Gimli, but no darker than these staves are to
me.'
'If you would understand them better, then I bid you come with me,' said
Aragorn; 'for that way I now shall take. But I do not go gladly; only need
drives me. Therefore, only of your free will would I have you come, for you
will find both toil and great fear, and maybe worse.'
'I will go with you even on the Paths of the Dead, and to whatever, end
they may lead,' said Gimli.
'I also will come,' said Legolas, 'for I do not fear the Dead.'
'I hope that the forgotten people will not have forgotten how to fight,'
said Gimli; 'for otherwise I see not why we should trouble them.'
'That we shall know if ever we come to Erech,' said Aragorn. 'But the
oath that they broke was to fight against Sauron, and they must fight
therefore, if they are to fulfil it. For at Erech there stands yet a black
stone that was brought, it was said, from Númenor by Isildur; and it was set
upon a hill, and upon it the King of the Mountains swore allegiance to him in
the beginning of the realm of Gondor. But when Sauron returned and grew in
might again, Isildur summoned the Men of the Mountains to fulfil their oath,
and they would not: for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark Years.
'Then Isildur said to their king: "Thou shalt be the last king. And if
the West prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon thee and
thy folk: to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war will last
through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the end."
And they fled before the wrath of Isildur, and did not dare to go forth to war
on Sauron's part; and they hid themselves in secret places in the mountains
and had no dealings with other men, but slowly dwindled in the barren hills.
And the terror of the Sleepless Dead lies about the Hill of Erech and all
places where that people lingered. But that way I must go, since there are
none living to help me.'
He stood up. 'Come!' he cried, and drew his sword, and it flashed in the
twilit hall of the Burg. 'To the Stone of Erech! I seek the Paths of the Dead.
Come with me who will!'
Legolas and Gimli made no answer, but they rose and followed Aragorn from
the hall. On the green there waited, still and silent, the hooded Rangers.
Legolas and Gimli mounted. Aragorn sprang upon Roheryn. Then Halbarad lifted a
great horn, and the blast of it echoed in Helm's Deep; and with that they
leapt away, riding down the Coomb like thunder, while all the men that were
left on D i k e or Burg stared in amaze.
And while Théoden went by slow paths in the hills, the Grey Company
passed swiftly over the plain, and on the next day in the afternoon they came
to Edoras; and there they halted only briefly, ere they passed up the valley,
and so came to Dunharrow as darkness fell.
The Lady Éowyn greeted them and was glad of their coming; for no mightier
men had she seen than the Dúnedain and the fair sons of Elrond; but on Aragorn
most of all her eyes rested. And when they sat at supper with her, they talked
together, and she heard of all that had passed since Théoden rode away,
concerning which only hasty tidings had yet reached her; and when she heard of
the battle in Helm's Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and of the
charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.
But at last she said: 'Lords, you are weary and shall now go to your beds
with such ease as can be contrived in haste. But tomorrow fairer housing shall
be found for you.'
But Aragorn said: 'Nay, lady, be not troubled for us! If we may lie here
tonight and break our fast tomorrow, it will be enough. For I ride on an
errand most urgent, and with the first light of morning we must go.'
She smiled on him and said: 'Then it was kindly done, lord, to ride so
many miles out of your way to bring tidings to Éowyn, and to speak with her in
her exile.'
'Indeed no man would count such a journey wasted,' said Aragorn; 'and
yet, lady, I could not have come hither, if it were not that the road which I
must take leads me to Dunharrow.'
And she answered as one that likes not what is said: "Then, lord, you are
astray; for out of Harrowdale no road runs east or south; and you had best
return as you came.'
'Nay, lady,' said he, 'I am not astray; for I walked in this land ere you
were born to grace it. There is a road out of this valley, and that road I
shall take. Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead.'
Then she stared at him as one that is stricken, and her face blanched,
and for long she spoke no more, while all sat silent. 'But, Aragorn,' she said
at last, 'is it then your errand to seek death? For that is all that you will
find on that road. They do not suffer the living to pass.'
'They may suffer me to pass,' said Aragorn; 'but at the least I will
adventure it. No other road will serve.'
'But this is madness,' she said. 'For here are men of renown and prowess,
whom you should not take into the shadows, but should lead to war, where men
are needed. I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then all our
hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter.'
'It is not madness, lady,' he answered; 'for I go on a path appointed.
But those who follow me do so of their free will; and if they wish now to
remain and ride with the Rohirrim, they may do so. But I shall take the Paths
of the Dead, alone, if needs be.'
Then they said no more, and they ate in silence; but her eyes were ever
upon Aragorn, and the others saw that she was in great torment of mind. At
length they arose, and took their leave of the Lady, and thanked her for her
care, and went to their rest.
But as Aragorn came to the booth where he was to lodge with Legolas and
Gimli, and his companions had gone in. there came the Lady Éowyn after him and
called to him. He turned and saw her as a glimmer in the night, for she was
clad in white; but her eyes were on fire.
'Aragorn,' she said, 'why will you go on this deadly road?'
'Because I must,' he said. 'Only so can I see any hope of doing my part
in the war against Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril, Éowyn. Were I to go
where my heart dwells, far in the North I would now be wandering in the fair
valley of Rivendell.'
For a while she was silent, as if pondering what this might mean. Then
suddenly she laid her hand on his arm. 'You are a stern lord and resolute,'
she said; 'and thus do men win renown.' She paused. 'Lord.' she said, 'if you
must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of skulking in the
hills, and wish to face peril and battle.'
'Your duty is with your people,' he answered.
'Too often have I heard of duty,' she cried. 'But am I not of the House
of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse? I have waited on faltering feet
long enough. Since they falter no longer, it seems, may I not now spend my
life as I will?'
'Few may do that with honour,' he answered. 'But as for you, lady: did
you not accept the charge to govern the people until their lord's return? If
you had not been chosen, then some marshal or captain would have been set in
the same place, and he could not ride away from his charge, were he weary of
it or no.'
'Shall I always be chosen?' she said bitterly. 'Shall I always be left
behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win renown, and
find food and beds when they return?'
'A time may come soon,' said he, 'when none will return. Then there will
be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are
done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant
because they are unpraised.'
And she answered: 'All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and
your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour,
you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.
But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield
blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'
'What do you fear, lady?' he asked.
'A cage,' she said. 'To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept
them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.'
'And yet you counselled me not to adventure on the road that I had
chosen, because it is perilous?'
'So may one counsel another,' she said. 'Yet I do not bid you flee from
peril, but to ride to battle where your sword may win renown and victory. I
would not see a thing that is high and excellent cast away needlessly.'
'Nor would I,' he said. 'Therefore I say to you, lady: Stay! For you have
no errand to the South.'
'Neither have those others who go with thee. They go only because they
would not be parted from thee – because they love thee.' Then she turned and
vanished into the night.
When the light of day was come into the sky but the sun was not yet risen
above the high ridges in the East, Aragorn made ready to depart. His company
was all mounted, and he was about to leap into the saddle, when the Lady Éowyn
came to bid them farewell. She was clad as a Rider and girt with a sword. In
her hand she bore a cup, and she set it to her lips and drank a little,
wishing them good speed; and then she gave the cup to Aragorn, and he drank,
and he said: 'Farewell, Lady of Rohan! I drink to the fortunes of your House,
and of you, and of all your people. Say to your brother: beyond the shadows we
may meet again!'
Then it seemed to Gimli and Legolas who were nearby that she wept, and in
one so stern and proud that seemed the more grievous. But she said: 'Aragorn,
wilt thou go?'
'I will,' he said.
'Then wilt thou not let me ride with this company, as I have asked?'
'I will not, lady,' he said. 'For that I could not grant without leave of
the king and of your brother; and they will not return until tomorrow. But I
count now every hour, indeed every minute. Farewell!'
Then she fell on her knees, saying: 'I beg thee!'
'Nay, lady,' he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then he
kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look
back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that
he bore.
But Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone, her hands clenched at
her sides, and she watched them until they passed into the shadows under the
black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Gate of the Dead.
When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is blind, and
went back to her lodging. But none of her folk saw this parting, for they hid
themselves in fear and would not come forth until the day was up, and the
reckless strangers were gone.
And some said: 'They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they belong,
into the dark places, and never return. The times are evil enough.'
The light was still grey as they rode, for the sun had not yet climbed
over the black ridges of the Haunted Mountain before them. A dread fell on
them, even as they passed between the lines of ancient stones and so came to
the Dimholt. There under the gloom of black trees that not even Legolas could
long endure they found a hollow place opening at the mountain's root, and
right in their path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of doom.
'My blood runs chill,' said Gimli, but the others were silent, and his
voice fell dead on the dank fir-needles at his feet. The horses would not pass
the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and led them about. And so
they came at last deep into the glen; and there stood a sheer wall of rock,
and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before them like the mouth of night. Signs
and figures were carved above its wide arch too dim to read, and fear flowed
from it like a grey vapour.
The company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did not
quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves, for whom the ghosts
of Men have no terror.
'This is an evil door,' said Halbarad, 'and my death lies beyond it. I
will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter.'
'But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too,' said Aragorn.
'For if ever we come through this darkness, many leagues lie beyond, and every
hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer. Follow me!'
Then Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in that
hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed him. And indeed the love
that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great that they
were willing to face even the terror of the Door, if their masters' hearts
were steady as they walked beside them. But Arod, the horse of Rohan, refused
the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was grievous to
see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that went
soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas passed in.
And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.
His knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. 'Here is a thing unheard
of!' he said. 'An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!' With that he
plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead over the
threshold; and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli Glóin's son
who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.
Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and now he went ahead bearing
one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the rear, and Gimli, stumbling
behind, strove to overtake him. He could see nothing but the dim flame of the
torches; but if the company halted, there seemed an endless whisper of voices
all about him, a murmur of words in no tongue that he had ever heard before.
Nothing assailed the company nor withstood their passage, and yet
steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all because he knew now
that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were thronged by an
unseen host that followed in the dark.
So time unreckoned passed, until Gimli saw a sight that he was ever
afterwards loth to recall. The road was wide, as far as he could judge, but
now the company came suddenly into a great empty space, and there were no
longer any walls upon either side. The dread was so heavy on him that he could
hardly walk. Away to the left something glittered in the gloom as Aragorn's
torch drew near. Then Aragorn halted and went to look what it might be.
'Does he feel no fear?' muttered the Dwarf. 'In any other cave Gimli
Glóin's son would have been the first to run to the gleam of gold. But not
here! Let it lie!'
Nonetheless he drew near, and saw Aragorn kneeling, while Elladan held
aloft both torches. Before him were the bones of a mighty man. He had been
clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's air was
as dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and garnets,
and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward on the floor.
He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen, and before
him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still clawing at the
cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he had hewn at the rock
in his last despair.
Aragorn did not touch him, but after gazing silently for a while he rose
and sighed. 'Hither shall the flowers of _simbelmynë_ come never unto world's
end,' he murmured. 'Nine mounds and seven there are now green with grass, and
through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock.
Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!
'For that is not my errand!' he cried, turning back and speaking to the
whispering darkness behind. 'Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the
Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to
the Stone of Erech!'
There was no answer, unless it were an utter silence more dreadful than
the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the torches
flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled. Of the time that followed,
one hour or many, Gimli remembered little. The others pressed on, but he was
ever hindmost, pursued by a groping horror that seemed always just about to
seize him; and a rumour came after him like the shadow-sound of many feet. He
stumbled on until he was crawling like a beast on the ground and felt that he
could endure no more: he must either find an ending and escape or run back in
madness to meet the following fear.
Suddenly he heard the tinkle of water, a sound hard and clear as a stone
falling into a dream of dark shadow. Light grew, and lo! the company passed
through another gateway, high-arched and broad, and a rill ran out beside
them; and beyond, going steeply down, was a road between sheer cliffs, knifeedged
against the sky far above. So deep and narrow was that chasm that the
sky was dark, and in it small stars glinted. Yet as Gimli after learned it was
still two hours ere sunset of the day on which they had set out from
Dunharrow; though for all that he could then tell it might have been twilight
in some later year, or in some other world.
The Company now mounted again, and Gimli returned to Legolas. They rode
in file, and evening came on and a deep blue dusk; and still fear pursued
them. Legolas turning to speak to Gimli looked back and the Dwarf saw before
his face the glitter in the Elf's bright eyes. Behind them rode Elladan, last
of the Company, but not the last of those that took the downward road.
'The Dead are following,' said Legolas. 'I see shapes of Men and of
horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets
on a misty night. The Dead are following.'
'Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned,' said Elladan.
The Company came at last out of the ravine, as suddenly as it they had
issued from a crack in a wall; and there lay the uplands of a great vale
before them, and the stream beside them went down with a cold voice over many
falls.
'Where in Middle-earth are we?' said Gimli; and Elladan answered: 'We
have descended from the uprising of the Morthond, the long chill river that
flows at last to the sea that washes the walls of Dol Amroth. You will not
need to ask hereafter how comes its name: Blackroot men call it.'
The Morthond Vale made a great bay that beat up against the sheer
southern faces of the mountains. Its steep slopes were grass-grown; but all
was grey in that hour, for the sun had gone, and far below lights twinkled in
the homes of Men. The vale was rich and many folk dwelt there.
Then without turning Aragorn cried aloud so that all could hear:
'Friends, forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the Stone of
Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way.' So without looking back
they rode the mountain-fields, until they came to a bridge over the growing
torrent and found a road that went down into the land.
Lights went out in house and hamlet as they came, and doors were shut,
and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted deer. Ever
there rose the same cry in the gathering night: 'The King of the Dead! The
King of the Dead is come upon us!'
Bells were ringing far below, and all men fled before the face of
Aragorn; but the Grey Company in their haste rode like hunters, until their
horses were stumbling with weariness. And thus, just ere midnight, and in a
darkness as black as the caverns in the mountains, they came at last to the
Hill of Erech.
Long had the terror of the Dead lain upon that hill and upon the empty
fields about it. For upon the top stood a black stone, round as a great globe,
the height of a man, though its half was buried in the ground. Unearthly it
looked, as though it had fallen from the sky, as some believed; but those who
remembered still the lore of Westernesse told that it had been brought out of
the ruin of Númenor and there set by Isildur at his landing. None of the
people of the valley dared to approach it, nor would they dwell near; for they
said that it was a trysting-place of the Shadow-men, and there they would
gather in times of fear, thronging round the Stone and whispering.
To that Stone the Company came and halted in the dead of night. Then
Elrohir gave to Aragorn a silver horn, and he blew upon it and it seemed to
those that stood near that they heard a sound of answering horns, as if it was
an echo in deep caves far away. No other sound they heard, and yet they were
aware of a great host gathered all about the hill on which they stood; and a
chill wind like the breath of ghosts came down from the mountains. But Aragorn
dismounted, and standing by the Stone he cried in a great voice:
'Oathbreakers, why have ye come?'
And a voice was heard out of the night that answered him, as if from far
away:
'To fulfil our oath and have peace.'
Then Aragorn said: 'The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon
Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the
servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace
and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor.'
And with that he bade Halbarad unfurl the great standard which he had
brought; and behold! it was black, and if there was any device upon it, it was
hidden in the darkness. Then there was silence, and not a whisper nor a sigh
was heard again all the long night. The Company camped beside the Stone, but
they slept little, because of the dread of the Shadows that hedged them round.
But when the dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn rose at once, and he led
the Company forth upon the journey of greatest haste and weariness that any
among them had known, save he alone, and only his will held them to go on. No
other mortal Men could have endured it, none but the Dúnedain of the North,
and with them Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas of the Elves.
They passed Tarlang's Neck and came into Lamedon; and the Shadow Host
pressed behind and fear went on before them, until they came to Calembel upon
Ciril, and the sun went down like blood behind Pinnath Gelin away in the West
behind them. The township and the fords of Ciril they found deserted, for many
men had gone away to war, and all that were left fled to the hills at the
rumour of the coming of the King of the Dead. But the next day there came no
dawn, and the Grey Company passed on into the darkness of the Storm of Mordor
and were lost to mortal sight; but the Dead followed them.
The Passing of the Grey Company
Gandalf was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Shadowfax were lost in the
night, when Merry came back to Aragorn. He had only a light bundle, for he had
lost his pack at Parth Galen, and all he had was a few useful things he had
picked up among the wreckage of Isengard. Hasufel was already saddled. Legolas
and Gimli with their horse stood close by.
'So four of the Company still remain,' said Aragorn. 'We will ride on
together. But we shall not go alone, as I thought. The king is now determined
to set out at once. Since the coming of the winged shadow, he desires to
return to the hills under cover of night.'
'And then whither?' said Legolas.
'I cannot say yet,' Aragorn answered. 'As for the king, he will go to the
muster that he commanded at Edoras, four nights from now. And there, I think,
he will hear tidings of war, and the Riders of Rohan will go down to Minas
Tirith. But for myself, and any that will go with me . . .'
'I for one!' cried Legolas. 'And Gimli with him!' said the Dwarf.
'Well, for myself,' said Aragorn, 'it is dark before me. I must go down
also to Minas Tirith, but I do not yet see the road. An hour long prepared
approaches.'
'Don't leave me behind!' said Merry. 'I have not been of much use yet;
but I don't want to be laid aside, like baggage to be called for when all is
over. I don't think the Riders will want to be bothered with me now. Though,
of course, the king did say that I was to sit by him when he came to his house
and tell him all about the Shire.'
'Yes,' said Aragorn, 'and your road lies with him, I think, Merry. But do
not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere Théoden sits at
ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.'
Soon all were ready to depart: twenty-four horses, with Gimli behind
Legolas, and Merry in front of Aragorn. Presently they were riding swiftly
through the night. They had not long passed the mounds at the Fords of Isen,
when a Rider galloped up from the rear of their line.
'My lord,' he said to the king, 'there are horsemen behind us. As we
crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They are
overtaking us, riding hard.'
Théoden at once called a halt. The Riders turned about and seized their
spears. Aragorn dismounted and set Merry on the ground, and drawing his sword
he stood by the king's stirrup. Éomer and his esquire rode back to the rear.
Merry felt more like unneeded baggage than ever, and he wondered, if there was
a fight, what he should do. Supposing the king's small escort was trapped and
overcome, but he escaped into the darkness – alone in the wild fields of Rohan
with no idea of where he was in all the endless miles? 'No good!' he thought.
He drew his sword and tightened his belt.
The sinking moon was obscured by a great sailing cloud, but suddenly it
rode out clear again. Then they all heard the sound of hoofs, and at the same
moment they saw dark shapes coming swiftly on the path from the fords. The
moonlight glinted here and there on the points of spears. The number of the
pursuers could not be told, but they seemed no fewer than the king's escort,
at the least.
When they were some fifty paces off, Éomer cried in a loud voice: 'Halt!
Halt! Who rides in Rohan?'
The pursuers brought their steeds to a sudden stand. A silence followed:
and then in the moonlight, a horseman could be seen dismounting and walking
slowly forward. His hand showed white as he held it up, palm outward, in token
of peace; but the king's men gripped their weapons. At ten paces the man
stopped. He was tall, a dark standing shadow. Then his clear voice rang out.
'Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in
haste from long afar.'
'You have found it,' said Éomer. 'When you crossed the fords yonder you
entered it. But it is the realm of Théoden the King. None ride here save by
his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?'
'Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North I am,' cried the man. 'We seek one
Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard that he was in Rohan.'
'And you have found him also!' cried Aragorn. Giving his reins to Merry,
he ran forward and embraced the newcomer. 'Halbarad!' he said. 'Of all joys
this is the least expected!'
Merry breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that this was some last
trick of Saruman's, to waylay the king while he had only a few men about him;
but it seemed that there would be no need to die in Théoden's defence, not yet
at any rate. He sheathed his sword.
'All is well,' said Aragorn, turning back. 'Here are some of my own kin
from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they be,
Halbarad shall tell us.'
'I have thirty with me,' said Halbarad. 'That is all of our kindred that
could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have ridden
with us, desiring to go to the war. We rode as swiftly as we might when your
summons came.'
'But I did not summon you,' said Aragorn, 'save only in wish. My thoughts
have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have sent no
word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in haste and
danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave.'
Théoden was indeed glad of the news. 'It is well!' he said. 'If these
kinsmen be in any way like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, thirty such knights
will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads.'
Then the Riders set out again, and Aragorn for a while rode with the
Dúnedain; and when they had spoken of tidings in the North and in the South,
Elrohir said to him:
'I bring word to you from my father: _The days are short. If thou art in
haste, remember the Paths of the Dead_.'
'Always my days have seemed to me too short to achieve my desire,'
answered Aragorn. 'But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road.'
'That will soon be seen,' said Elrohir. 'But let us speak no more of
these things upon the open road!'
And Aragorn said to Halbarad: 'What is that that you bear, kinsman?' For
he saw that instead of a spear he bore a tall staff, as it were a standard,
but it was close-furled in a black cloth bound about with many thongs.
'It is a gift that I bring you from the Lady of Rivendell,' answered
Halbarad. 'She wrought it in secret, and long was the making. But she also
sends word to you: _The days now are short. Either our hope cometh, or all
hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare well,
Elfstone!_'
And Aragorn said: 'Now I know what you bear. Bear it still for me a
while!' And he turned and looked away to the North under the great stars, and
then he fell silent and spoke no more while the night's journey lasted.
The night was old and the East grey when they rode up at last from
Deeping-coomb and came back to the Hornburg. There they were to lie and rest
for a brief while and take counsel.
Merry slept until he was roused by Legolas and Gimli. 'The Sun is high,'
said Legolas. 'All others are up and doing. Come, Master Sluggard, and look at
this place while you may!'
'There was a battle here three nights ago,' said Gimli, 'and here Legolas
and I played a game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how it was!
And there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them, Legolas, do
you think?'
'Nay! There is no time,' said the Elf. 'Do not spoil the wonder with
haste! I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day of peace
and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that hour we eat,
and then set out again, I hear.'
Merry got up and yawned. His few hours' sleep had not been nearly enough;
he was tired and rather dismal. He missed Pippin, and felt that he was only a
burden, while everybody was making plans for speed in a business that he did
not fully understand. 'Where is Aragorn?' he asked.
'In a high chamber of the Burg,' said Legolas. 'He has neither rested nor
slept, I think. He went thither some hours ago, saying that he must take
thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but some dark doubt or
care sits on him.'
'They are a strange company, these newcomers,' said Gimli. 'Stout men and
lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost as boys beside them; for
they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most part, even
as Aragorn himself; and they are silent.'
'But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their silence.'
said Legolas. 'And have you marked the brethren Elladan and Elrohir? Less
sombre is their gear than the others', and they are fair and gallant as Elvenlords;
and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell.'
'Why have they come? Have you heard?' asked Merry. He had now dressed,
and he flung his grey cloak about his shoulders; and the three passed out
together towards the ruined gate of the Burg.
'They answered a summons, as you heard,' said Gimli. 'Word came to
Rivendell, they say: _Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride
to him in Rohan!_ But whence this message came they are now in doubt. Gandalf
sent it, I would guess.'
'Nay, Galadriel,' said Legolas. 'Did she not speak through Gandalf of the
ride of the Grey Company from the North?'
'Yes, you have it,' said Gimli. 'The Lady of the Wood! She read many
hearts and desires. Now why did not we wish for some of our own kinsfolk,
Legolas?'
Legolas stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north and
east, and his fair face was troubled. 'I do not think that any would come,' he
answered. 'They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on their own
lands.'
For a while the three companions walked together, speaking of this and
that turn of the battle, and they went down from the broken gate, and passed
the mounds of the fallen on the greensward beside the road, until they stood
on Helm's D i k e and looked into the Coomb. The Death Down already stood there,
black and tall and stony, and the great trampling and scoring of the grass by
the Huorns could be plainly seen. The Dunlendings and many men of the garrison
of the Burg were at work on the D i k e or in the fields and about the battered walls behind; yet all seemed strangely quiet: a weary valley resting after a great storm. Soon they turned back and went to the midday meal in the hall of the Burg.
The king was already there, and as soon as they entered he called for
Merry and had a seat set for him at his side. 'It is not as I would have it,'said Théoden; 'for this is little like my fair house in Edoras. And your friend is gone, who should also be here. But it may be long ere we sit, you and I, at the high table in Meduseld; there will be no time for feasting when I return thither. But come now! Eat and drink, and let us speak together while we may. And then you shall ride with me.'
'May I?' said Merry, surprised and delighted. 'That would be splendid!'
He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. 'I am afraid I am
only in everybody's way,' he stammered; 'but I should like to do anything I
could, you know.'
'I doubt it not,' said the king. 'I have had a good hill-pony made ready
for you. He will bear you as swift as any horse by the roads that we shall
take. For I will ride from the Burg by mountain paths, not by the plain, and
so come to Edoras by way of Dunharrow where the Lady Éowyn awaits me. You
shall be my esquire, if you will. Is there gear of war in this place, Éomer,
that my sword-thain could use?'
'There are no great weapon-hoards here, lord.' answered Éomer. 'Maybe a
light helm might be found to fit him; but we have no mail or sword for one of
his stature.'
'I have a sword,' said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing from
its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love for this
old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. 'May I lay the
sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap Théoden King?' he cried. 'Receive
my service, if you will!'
'Gladly will I take it,' said the king; and laying his long old hands
upon the brown hair of the hobbit; he blessed him. 'Rise now, Meriadoc,
esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!' he said. 'Take your sword and
bear it unto good fortune!'
'As a father you shall be to me,' said Merry.
'For a little while,' said Théoden.
They talked then together as they ate, until presently Éomer spoke. 'It
is near the hour that we set for our going, lord,' he said. 'Shall I bid men
sound the horns? But where is Aragorn? His place is empty and he has not
eaten.'
'We will make ready to ride,' said Théoden; 'but let word be sent to the
Lord Aragorn that the hour is nigh.'
The king with his guard and Merry at his side passed down from the gate
of the Burg to where the Riders were assembling on the green. Many were
already mounted. It would be a great company; for the king was leaving only a
small garrison in the Burg, and all who could be spared were riding to the
weapontake at Edoras. A thousand spears had indeed already ridden away at
night; but still there would be some five hundred more to go with the king,
for the most part men from the fields and dales of Westfold.
A little apart the Rangers sat, silent, in an ordered company, armed with
spear and bow and sword. They were clad in cloaks of dark grey, and their
hoods were cast now over helm and head. Their horses were strong and of proud
bearing, but rough-haired; and one stood there without a rider, Aragorn's own
horse that they had brought from the North; Roheryn was his name. There was no
gleam of stone or gold, nor any fair thing in all their gear and harness: nor
did their riders bear any badge or token, save only that each cloak was pinned
upon the left shoulder by a brooch of silver shaped like a rayed star.
The king mounted his horse, Snowmane, and Merry sat beside him on his
pony: Stybba was his name. Presently Éomer came out from the gate, and with
him was Aragorn, and Halbarad bearing the great staff close-furled in black,
and two tall men, neither young nor old So much alike were they, the sons of
Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their
faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey.
Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry had eyes only for Aragorn, so
startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many years had
fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.
'I am troubled in mind, lord,' he said, standing by the king's horse. 'I
have heard strange words, and I see new perils far off. I have laboured long
in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me, Théoden,
you ride now to Dunharrow, how long will it be ere you come there?'
'It is now a full hour past noon,' said Éomer. 'Before the night of the
third day from now we should come to the Hold. The Moon will then be one night
past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held the day
after. More speed we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be gathered.'
Aragorn was silent for a moment. 'Three days,' he murmured, 'and the
muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it cannot now be
hastened.' He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some decision; his
face was less troubled. Then, by our leave, lord, I must take new counsel for
myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For
me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest way, and I
will take the Paths of the Dead.'
'The Paths of the Dead!' said Théoden, and trembled. 'Why do you speak of
them?' Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it seemed to Merry that the
faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words. 'If
there be in truth such paths,' said Théoden, 'their gate is in Dunharrow; but
no living man may pass it.'
'Alas! Aragorn my friend!' said Éomer. 'I had hoped that we should ride
to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our parting is
come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the Sun.'
'That road I will take, nonetheless,' said Aragorn. 'But I say to you,
Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor
should stand between.'
'You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,' said Théoden. 'It is your
doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This parting grieves
me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the mountain-roads
and delay no longer. Farewell!'
'Farewell, lord!' said Aragorn. 'Ride unto great renown! Farewell, Merry!
I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped when we hunted the orcs to
Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we shall not
forget you.'
'Good-bye!' said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very small,
and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy words. More than ever he
missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were ready, and
their horses were fidgeting; he wished they would start arid get it over.
Now Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand and cried aloud,
and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode over the D i k e and down the
Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that skirted the
foothills for a mile or so, until bending south it passed back among the hills
and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode to the D i k e and watched till the
king's men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.
'There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,' he said.
'He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go on.'
'A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,' said Halbarad.
'Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their borders,
and yet I grudge it not.'
'And now our fates are woven together,' said Aragorn. 'And yet, alas!
here we must part. Well, I must eat a little, and then we also must hasten
away. Come, Legolas and Gimli! I must speak with you as I eat.'
Together they went back into the Burg; yet for some time Aragorn sat
silent at the table in the hall, and the others waited for him to speak.
'Come!' said Legolas at last. 'Speak and be comforted, and shake off the
shadow! What has happened since we came back to this grim place in the grey
morning?'
'A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than the battle of the
Hornburg,' answered Aragorn. 'I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc, my
friends.'
'You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry!' exclaimed Gimli
with fear and astonishment in his face. 'Did you say aught to – him? Even
Gandalf feared that encounter.'
'You forget to whom you speak,' said Aragorn sternly, and his eyes
glinted. 'Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of Edoras? What
do you fear that I should say to him? Nay, Gimli,' he said in a softer voice,
and the grimness left his face, and he looked like one who has laboured in
sleepless pain for many nights. 'Nay, my friends, I and the lawful master of
the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I
judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough – barely.'
He drew a deep breath. 'It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness is
slow to pass. I spoke no word to him, and in the end I wrenched the Stone to
my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld me. Yes,
Master Gimli, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If that will
aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I lived and
walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I deem; for he knew it not till now.
The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armour of Théoden; but Sauron has
not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil. Now in the very hour of his
great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I showed the
blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay,
doubt ever gnaws him.'
'But he wields great dominion, nonetheless,' said Gimli; 'and now he will
strike more swiftly.'
'The hasty stroke goes oft astray,' said Aragorn. 'We must press our
Enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. See my friends, when I had
mastered the Stone, I learned many things. A grave peril I saw coming
unlooked-for upon Gondor from the South that will draw off great strength from
the defence of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, I deem that the
City will be lost ere ten days be gone.'
'Then lost it must be,' said Gimli. 'For what help is there to send
thither, and how could it come there in time?'
'I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself,' said Aragorn. 'But
there is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to the
coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead.'
'The Paths of the Dead!' said Gimli. 'It is a fell name; and little to
the liking to the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a road and
not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to counter
the strokes of Mordor?'
'The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim,'
said Aragorn, 'for it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the heir of
Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen! This is the word that the sons of
Elrond bring to me from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore: _Bid
Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead_.'
'And what may be the words of the seer?' said Legolas.
"Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king at
Fornost,' said Aragorn:
Over the land there lies a long shadow,
westward reaching wings of darkness.
The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
for the hour is come for the oathbreakers;
at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
from the prey twilight, the forgotten people?
The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
'Dark ways doubtless, said Gimli, but no darker than these staves are to
me.'
'If you would understand them better, then I bid you come with me,' said
Aragorn; 'for that way I now shall take. But I do not go gladly; only need
drives me. Therefore, only of your free will would I have you come, for you
will find both toil and great fear, and maybe worse.'
'I will go with you even on the Paths of the Dead, and to whatever, end
they may lead,' said Gimli.
'I also will come,' said Legolas, 'for I do not fear the Dead.'
'I hope that the forgotten people will not have forgotten how to fight,'
said Gimli; 'for otherwise I see not why we should trouble them.'
'That we shall know if ever we come to Erech,' said Aragorn. 'But the
oath that they broke was to fight against Sauron, and they must fight
therefore, if they are to fulfil it. For at Erech there stands yet a black
stone that was brought, it was said, from Númenor by Isildur; and it was set
upon a hill, and upon it the King of the Mountains swore allegiance to him in
the beginning of the realm of Gondor. But when Sauron returned and grew in
might again, Isildur summoned the Men of the Mountains to fulfil their oath,
and they would not: for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark Years.
'Then Isildur said to their king: "Thou shalt be the last king. And if
the West prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon thee and
thy folk: to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war will last
through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the end."
And they fled before the wrath of Isildur, and did not dare to go forth to war
on Sauron's part; and they hid themselves in secret places in the mountains
and had no dealings with other men, but slowly dwindled in the barren hills.
And the terror of the Sleepless Dead lies about the Hill of Erech and all
places where that people lingered. But that way I must go, since there are
none living to help me.'
He stood up. 'Come!' he cried, and drew his sword, and it flashed in the
twilit hall of the Burg. 'To the Stone of Erech! I seek the Paths of the Dead.
Come with me who will!'
Legolas and Gimli made no answer, but they rose and followed Aragorn from
the hall. On the green there waited, still and silent, the hooded Rangers.
Legolas and Gimli mounted. Aragorn sprang upon Roheryn. Then Halbarad lifted a
great horn, and the blast of it echoed in Helm's Deep; and with that they
leapt away, riding down the Coomb like thunder, while all the men that were
left on D i k e or Burg stared in amaze.
And while Théoden went by slow paths in the hills, the Grey Company
passed swiftly over the plain, and on the next day in the afternoon they came
to Edoras; and there they halted only briefly, ere they passed up the valley,
and so came to Dunharrow as darkness fell.
The Lady Éowyn greeted them and was glad of their coming; for no mightier
men had she seen than the Dúnedain and the fair sons of Elrond; but on Aragorn
most of all her eyes rested. And when they sat at supper with her, they talked
together, and she heard of all that had passed since Théoden rode away,
concerning which only hasty tidings had yet reached her; and when she heard of
the battle in Helm's Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and of the
charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.
But at last she said: 'Lords, you are weary and shall now go to your beds
with such ease as can be contrived in haste. But tomorrow fairer housing shall
be found for you.'
But Aragorn said: 'Nay, lady, be not troubled for us! If we may lie here
tonight and break our fast tomorrow, it will be enough. For I ride on an
errand most urgent, and with the first light of morning we must go.'
She smiled on him and said: 'Then it was kindly done, lord, to ride so
many miles out of your way to bring tidings to Éowyn, and to speak with her in
her exile.'
'Indeed no man would count such a journey wasted,' said Aragorn; 'and
yet, lady, I could not have come hither, if it were not that the road which I
must take leads me to Dunharrow.'
And she answered as one that likes not what is said: "Then, lord, you are
astray; for out of Harrowdale no road runs east or south; and you had best
return as you came.'
'Nay, lady,' said he, 'I am not astray; for I walked in this land ere you
were born to grace it. There is a road out of this valley, and that road I
shall take. Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead.'
Then she stared at him as one that is stricken, and her face blanched,
and for long she spoke no more, while all sat silent. 'But, Aragorn,' she said
at last, 'is it then your errand to seek death? For that is all that you will
find on that road. They do not suffer the living to pass.'
'They may suffer me to pass,' said Aragorn; 'but at the least I will
adventure it. No other road will serve.'
'But this is madness,' she said. 'For here are men of renown and prowess,
whom you should not take into the shadows, but should lead to war, where men
are needed. I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then all our
hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter.'
'It is not madness, lady,' he answered; 'for I go on a path appointed.
But those who follow me do so of their free will; and if they wish now to
remain and ride with the Rohirrim, they may do so. But I shall take the Paths
of the Dead, alone, if needs be.'
Then they said no more, and they ate in silence; but her eyes were ever
upon Aragorn, and the others saw that she was in great torment of mind. At
length they arose, and took their leave of the Lady, and thanked her for her
care, and went to their rest.
But as Aragorn came to the booth where he was to lodge with Legolas and
Gimli, and his companions had gone in. there came the Lady Éowyn after him and
called to him. He turned and saw her as a glimmer in the night, for she was
clad in white; but her eyes were on fire.
'Aragorn,' she said, 'why will you go on this deadly road?'
'Because I must,' he said. 'Only so can I see any hope of doing my part
in the war against Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril, Éowyn. Were I to go
where my heart dwells, far in the North I would now be wandering in the fair
valley of Rivendell.'
For a while she was silent, as if pondering what this might mean. Then
suddenly she laid her hand on his arm. 'You are a stern lord and resolute,'
she said; 'and thus do men win renown.' She paused. 'Lord.' she said, 'if you
must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of skulking in the
hills, and wish to face peril and battle.'
'Your duty is with your people,' he answered.
'Too often have I heard of duty,' she cried. 'But am I not of the House
of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse? I have waited on faltering feet
long enough. Since they falter no longer, it seems, may I not now spend my
life as I will?'
'Few may do that with honour,' he answered. 'But as for you, lady: did
you not accept the charge to govern the people until their lord's return? If
you had not been chosen, then some marshal or captain would have been set in
the same place, and he could not ride away from his charge, were he weary of
it or no.'
'Shall I always be chosen?' she said bitterly. 'Shall I always be left
behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win renown, and
find food and beds when they return?'
'A time may come soon,' said he, 'when none will return. Then there will
be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are
done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant
because they are unpraised.'
And she answered: 'All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and
your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour,
you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.
But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield
blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'
'What do you fear, lady?' he asked.
'A cage,' she said. 'To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept
them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.'
'And yet you counselled me not to adventure on the road that I had
chosen, because it is perilous?'
'So may one counsel another,' she said. 'Yet I do not bid you flee from
peril, but to ride to battle where your sword may win renown and victory. I
would not see a thing that is high and excellent cast away needlessly.'
'Nor would I,' he said. 'Therefore I say to you, lady: Stay! For you have
no errand to the South.'
'Neither have those others who go with thee. They go only because they
would not be parted from thee – because they love thee.' Then she turned and
vanished into the night.
When the light of day was come into the sky but the sun was not yet risen
above the high ridges in the East, Aragorn made ready to depart. His company
was all mounted, and he was about to leap into the saddle, when the Lady Éowyn
came to bid them farewell. She was clad as a Rider and girt with a sword. In
her hand she bore a cup, and she set it to her lips and drank a little,
wishing them good speed; and then she gave the cup to Aragorn, and he drank,
and he said: 'Farewell, Lady of Rohan! I drink to the fortunes of your House,
and of you, and of all your people. Say to your brother: beyond the shadows we
may meet again!'
Then it seemed to Gimli and Legolas who were nearby that she wept, and in
one so stern and proud that seemed the more grievous. But she said: 'Aragorn,
wilt thou go?'
'I will,' he said.
'Then wilt thou not let me ride with this company, as I have asked?'
'I will not, lady,' he said. 'For that I could not grant without leave of
the king and of your brother; and they will not return until tomorrow. But I
count now every hour, indeed every minute. Farewell!'
Then she fell on her knees, saying: 'I beg thee!'
'Nay, lady,' he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then he
kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look
back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that
he bore.
But Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone, her hands clenched at
her sides, and she watched them until they passed into the shadows under the
black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Gate of the Dead.
When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is blind, and
went back to her lodging. But none of her folk saw this parting, for they hid
themselves in fear and would not come forth until the day was up, and the
reckless strangers were gone.
And some said: 'They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they belong,
into the dark places, and never return. The times are evil enough.'
The light was still grey as they rode, for the sun had not yet climbed
over the black ridges of the Haunted Mountain before them. A dread fell on
them, even as they passed between the lines of ancient stones and so came to
the Dimholt. There under the gloom of black trees that not even Legolas could
long endure they found a hollow place opening at the mountain's root, and
right in their path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of doom.
'My blood runs chill,' said Gimli, but the others were silent, and his
voice fell dead on the dank fir-needles at his feet. The horses would not pass
the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and led them about. And so
they came at last deep into the glen; and there stood a sheer wall of rock,
and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before them like the mouth of night. Signs
and figures were carved above its wide arch too dim to read, and fear flowed
from it like a grey vapour.
The company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did not
quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves, for whom the ghosts
of Men have no terror.
'This is an evil door,' said Halbarad, 'and my death lies beyond it. I
will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter.'
'But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too,' said Aragorn.
'For if ever we come through this darkness, many leagues lie beyond, and every
hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer. Follow me!'
Then Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in that
hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed him. And indeed the love
that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great that they
were willing to face even the terror of the Door, if their masters' hearts
were steady as they walked beside them. But Arod, the horse of Rohan, refused
the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was grievous to
see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that went
soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas passed in.
And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.
His knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. 'Here is a thing unheard
of!' he said. 'An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!' With that he
plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead over the
threshold; and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli Glóin's son
who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.
Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and now he went ahead bearing
one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the rear, and Gimli, stumbling
behind, strove to overtake him. He could see nothing but the dim flame of the
torches; but if the company halted, there seemed an endless whisper of voices
all about him, a murmur of words in no tongue that he had ever heard before.
Nothing assailed the company nor withstood their passage, and yet
steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all because he knew now
that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were thronged by an
unseen host that followed in the dark.
So time unreckoned passed, until Gimli saw a sight that he was ever
afterwards loth to recall. The road was wide, as far as he could judge, but
now the company came suddenly into a great empty space, and there were no
longer any walls upon either side. The dread was so heavy on him that he could
hardly walk. Away to the left something glittered in the gloom as Aragorn's
torch drew near. Then Aragorn halted and went to look what it might be.
'Does he feel no fear?' muttered the Dwarf. 'In any other cave Gimli
Glóin's son would have been the first to run to the gleam of gold. But not
here! Let it lie!'
Nonetheless he drew near, and saw Aragorn kneeling, while Elladan held
aloft both torches. Before him were the bones of a mighty man. He had been
clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's air was
as dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and garnets,
and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward on the floor.
He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen, and before
him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still clawing at the
cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he had hewn at the rock
in his last despair.
Aragorn did not touch him, but after gazing silently for a while he rose
and sighed. 'Hither shall the flowers of _simbelmynë_ come never unto world's
end,' he murmured. 'Nine mounds and seven there are now green with grass, and
through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock.
Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!
'For that is not my errand!' he cried, turning back and speaking to the
whispering darkness behind. 'Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the
Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to
the Stone of Erech!'
There was no answer, unless it were an utter silence more dreadful than
the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the torches
flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled. Of the time that followed,
one hour or many, Gimli remembered little. The others pressed on, but he was
ever hindmost, pursued by a groping horror that seemed always just about to
seize him; and a rumour came after him like the shadow-sound of many feet. He
stumbled on until he was crawling like a beast on the ground and felt that he
could endure no more: he must either find an ending and escape or run back in
madness to meet the following fear.
Suddenly he heard the tinkle of water, a sound hard and clear as a stone
falling into a dream of dark shadow. Light grew, and lo! the company passed
through another gateway, high-arched and broad, and a rill ran out beside
them; and beyond, going steeply down, was a road between sheer cliffs, knifeedged
against the sky far above. So deep and narrow was that chasm that the
sky was dark, and in it small stars glinted. Yet as Gimli after learned it was
still two hours ere sunset of the day on which they had set out from
Dunharrow; though for all that he could then tell it might have been twilight
in some later year, or in some other world.
The Company now mounted again, and Gimli returned to Legolas. They rode
in file, and evening came on and a deep blue dusk; and still fear pursued
them. Legolas turning to speak to Gimli looked back and the Dwarf saw before
his face the glitter in the Elf's bright eyes. Behind them rode Elladan, last
of the Company, but not the last of those that took the downward road.
'The Dead are following,' said Legolas. 'I see shapes of Men and of
horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets
on a misty night. The Dead are following.'
'Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned,' said Elladan.
The Company came at last out of the ravine, as suddenly as it they had
issued from a crack in a wall; and there lay the uplands of a great vale
before them, and the stream beside them went down with a cold voice over many
falls.
'Where in Middle-earth are we?' said Gimli; and Elladan answered: 'We
have descended from the uprising of the Morthond, the long chill river that
flows at last to the sea that washes the walls of Dol Amroth. You will not
need to ask hereafter how comes its name: Blackroot men call it.'
The Morthond Vale made a great bay that beat up against the sheer
southern faces of the mountains. Its steep slopes were grass-grown; but all
was grey in that hour, for the sun had gone, and far below lights twinkled in
the homes of Men. The vale was rich and many folk dwelt there.
Then without turning Aragorn cried aloud so that all could hear:
'Friends, forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the Stone of
Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way.' So without looking back
they rode the mountain-fields, until they came to a bridge over the growing
torrent and found a road that went down into the land.
Lights went out in house and hamlet as they came, and doors were shut,
and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted deer. Ever
there rose the same cry in the gathering night: 'The King of the Dead! The
King of the Dead is come upon us!'
Bells were ringing far below, and all men fled before the face of
Aragorn; but the Grey Company in their haste rode like hunters, until their
horses were stumbling with weariness. And thus, just ere midnight, and in a
darkness as black as the caverns in the mountains, they came at last to the
Hill of Erech.
Long had the terror of the Dead lain upon that hill and upon the empty
fields about it. For upon the top stood a black stone, round as a great globe,
the height of a man, though its half was buried in the ground. Unearthly it
looked, as though it had fallen from the sky, as some believed; but those who
remembered still the lore of Westernesse told that it had been brought out of
the ruin of Númenor and there set by Isildur at his landing. None of the
people of the valley dared to approach it, nor would they dwell near; for they
said that it was a trysting-place of the Shadow-men, and there they would
gather in times of fear, thronging round the Stone and whispering.
To that Stone the Company came and halted in the dead of night. Then
Elrohir gave to Aragorn a silver horn, and he blew upon it and it seemed to
those that stood near that they heard a sound of answering horns, as if it was
an echo in deep caves far away. No other sound they heard, and yet they were
aware of a great host gathered all about the hill on which they stood; and a
chill wind like the breath of ghosts came down from the mountains. But Aragorn
dismounted, and standing by the Stone he cried in a great voice:
'Oathbreakers, why have ye come?'
And a voice was heard out of the night that answered him, as if from far
away:
'To fulfil our oath and have peace.'
Then Aragorn said: 'The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon
Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the
servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace
and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor.'
And with that he bade Halbarad unfurl the great standard which he had
brought; and behold! it was black, and if there was any device upon it, it was
hidden in the darkness. Then there was silence, and not a whisper nor a sigh
was heard again all the long night. The Company camped beside the Stone, but
they slept little, because of the dread of the Shadows that hedged them round.
But when the dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn rose at once, and he led
the Company forth upon the journey of greatest haste and weariness that any
among them had known, save he alone, and only his will held them to go on. No
other mortal Men could have endured it, none but the Dúnedain of the North,
and with them Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas of the Elves.
They passed Tarlang's Neck and came into Lamedon; and the Shadow Host
pressed behind and fear went on before them, until they came to Calembel upon
Ciril, and the sun went down like blood behind Pinnath Gelin away in the West
behind them. The township and the fords of Ciril they found deserted, for many
men had gone away to war, and all that were left fled to the hills at the
rumour of the coming of the King of the Dead. But the next day there came no
dawn, and the Grey Company passed on into the darkness of the Storm of Mordor
and were lost to mortal sight; but the Dead followed them.
hahaha
Auf deutsch wrote:
> kianul1000 wrote:
> The Lord of the Rings_
> _Chapter 1_
> Minas Tirith
> Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered
> if
> he
> was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in
> which
> he had
> been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was
> rushing by
> and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the
> wheeling
> stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the
> mountains
> of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and
> stages of
> their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.
> There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and
> then
> in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to
> the silent
> town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they
> reached its
> shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men
> wilted with
> fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in
> a
> corner,
> tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men
> talking and
> Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night.
> This was
> the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone.
> And
> with
> that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of
> the
> wind
> became filled with menacing voices.
> A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark
> barriers
> Pippin cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what
> dreadful country
> Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it
> was the
> moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So
> the
> night
> was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would go on. He
> stirred and
> spoke.
> 'Where are we, Gandalf?' he asked.
> 'In the realm of Gondor,' the wizard answered. 'The land of
> Anórien is
> still passing by.'
> There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried
> Pippin
> suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are
> there
> dragons in this land? Look, there is another!'
> For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadowfax! We must
> hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight,
> calling
> for aid.
> War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame
> on Eilenach; and
> there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad,
> and the
> Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.'
> But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he
> lifted
> up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh
> of other
> horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and
> three
> riders
> swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into
> the West.
> Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the
> night flowed
> over him like a roaring wind.
> Pippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf
> telling
> him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had
> beacons built
> on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range,
> and
> maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in
> readiness
> to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in
> the South.
> 'It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,' he said; 'and
> in the
> ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven
> Stones.'
> Pippin stirred uneasily.
> 'Sleep again, and do not be afraid!' said Gandalf. 'For you are not
> going
> like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as
> safe as
> you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is
> taken, then
> the Shire will be no refuge.'
> 'You do not comfort me,' said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept
> over
> him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep
> dream
> was a
> glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above
> the
> clouds
> as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where
> Frodo was,
> and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not
> know that
> Frodo from far away looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor
> ere the
> coming of the day.
> Pippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a
> night
> of
> journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand
> again, and
> chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with
> sweat, but he
> held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men
> heavily
> cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall
> of stone.
> Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed
> the
> sound of
> hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels,
> and
> the
> creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and there in
> the fog.
> Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he
> listened Pippin
> became aware that he himself was being discussed.
> 'Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the men,
> 'and
> you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go
> forward. But we
> do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains
> in the
> North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless
> they
> be
> mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'
> 'I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,' said Gandalf.
> 'And as
> for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed
> through
> more
> battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his
> height; and
> he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear
> tidings,
> and
> great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is
> Peregrin,
> a very
> valiant man.'
> 'Man?' said Ingold dubiously; and the others laughed.
> 'Man!' cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. 'Man! Indeed not! I am a
> hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and
> again by
> necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!'
> 'Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,' said Ingold. 'But
> what is
> a hobbit?'
> 'A Halfling,' answered Gandalf. 'Nay, not the one that was spoken
> of,' he
> added seeing the wonder in the men's faces. 'Not he, yet one of his
> kindred.'
> 'Yes, and one who journeyed with him,' said Pippin. 'And Boromir of
> your
> City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at
> the last
> he was slain defending me from many foes.'
> 'Peace!' said Gandalf. 'The news of that grief should have been told
> first to the father.'
> 'It has been guessed already,' said Ingold; 'for there have been
> strange
> portents here of late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of
> Minas
> Tirith
> will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be
> he man
> or-'
> 'Hobbit,' said Pippin. 'Little service can I offer to your lord, but
> what
> I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.'
> 'Fare you well!' said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadow fax,
> and he
> passed through a narrow gate in the wall. 'May you bring good
> counsel
> to
> Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!' Ingold cried. 'But
> you come
> with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.'
> 'Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,' answered
> Gandalf.
> 'And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in
> repairing
> the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence
> against the
> storm that is at hand – that and such hope as I bring. For not all
> the tidings
> that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your
> swords!'
> 'The work will be finished ere evening,' said Ingold. 'This is the
> last
> portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack,
> for it
> looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will
> they
> answer the summons, think you?'
> 'Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your
> back.
> This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant!
> But for
> Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of
> Anórien and
> no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!'
> Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So
> the
> men
> of Gondor called the out wall that they had built with great labour,
> after
> Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or
> more it ran
> from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence
> the fields
> of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and
> terraces
> falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from
> the Great
> Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant,
> and there
> from a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river,
> and men
> had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled
> causeway, the
> road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed
> through a
> guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall
> was
> little more than one league from the City, and that was
> south-eastward. There
> Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South
> Ithilien,
> bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and
> beneath it
> lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came
> upstream from
> the southern fiefs.
> The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and
> homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many
> rills
> rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet
> the
> herdsmen
> and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of
> the people
> of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high
> vales of the
> mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin
> with its
> five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains
> and the
> sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled,
> and there
> were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from
> the
> forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark
> Years
> ere the
> coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas,
> dwelt
> Prince
> Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high
> blood, and
> his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.
> Now after Gandalf had ridden for some time the light of day grew in
> the
> sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea
> of mist,
> rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great
> mountains reared
> their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if
> in the
> making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier,
> carving out a
> mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come.
> And
> there
> where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw,
> as Gandalf
> had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple
> shadows of
> its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And
> upon its
> out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone
> so strong
> and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants
> out of
> the bones of the earth.
> Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to
> white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed
> over the
> eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the
> City. Then
> Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within
> the
> topmost walls' shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of
> pearl and
> silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if
> it were
> wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the
> battlements in the morning breeze' and high and far he heard a clear
> ringing
> as of silver trumpets.
> So Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor
> at
> the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.
> 'Mithrandir! Mithrandir!' men cried. 'Now we know that the storm is
> indeed nigh!'
> 'It is upon you,' said Gandalf. 'I have ridden on its wings. Let me
> pass!
> I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts.
> Whatever
> betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known.
> Let me
> pass!'
> Then men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned
> him
> no
> further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before
> him and at
> the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very
> little
> and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden
> by
> the
> errand-riders of their lord. And they said: 'Surely that is one of
> the great
> steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to
> strengthen
> us.' But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road.
> For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven
> levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall,
> and
> in each
> wall was a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great
> Gate
> in the
> City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced
> half south,
> and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the
> paved way
> that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that
> across
> the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the
> Great Gate
> it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose
> huge outthrust
> bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For
> partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty
> craft and
> labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind
> the Gate
> a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing
> east. Up it
> rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned
> by a
> battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a
> mountainous
> ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet
> below.
> The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in
> the heart
> of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh
> gate.
> Thus men
> reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before
> the feet
> of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to
> the
> pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet
> above the
> plain.
> A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of
> enemies,
> if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe
> could come
> behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon
> the
> narrow
> shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But
> that
> shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged
> with
> great
> ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end;
> and
> in that
> space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords,
> for
> ever
> silent between the mountain and the tower.
> Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and
> more
> splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger
> than
> Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year
> by
> year
> into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt
> at ease
> there. In every street they passed some great house or court over
> whose doors
> and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and
> ancient
> shapes:
> names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt
> there; and
> yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide
> pavements, nor
> voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or
> empty
> window.
> At last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm
> sun
> that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of
> Ithilien,
> glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great
> arch with
> keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head.
> Gandalf
> dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax
> suffered
> himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.
> The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of
> strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to
> the face,
> and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds;
> but
> the
> helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought
> of
> _mithril_, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black
> surcoats were
> embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver
> crown and
> many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and
> none wore
> it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the
> Court
> of the
> Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
> Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them:
> and
> at
> once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly
> Gandalf
> strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played there
> in
> the
> morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the
> midst.
> drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops
> dripped sadly
> from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.
> Pippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked
> mournful,
> he
> thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place
> where
> everything else was well tended.
> _Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree._
> The words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And
> then
> he
> found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming
> tower; and
> behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered
> the cool
> echoing shadows of the house of stone.
> They walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went
> Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. 'Be careful of your words, Master
> Peregrin!
> This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old
> man. Denethor is
> of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and
> power,
> though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and
> question
> you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him
> greatly: too
> much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But under
> cover of
> this love he will think it easier to learn what he witches from you
> rather
> than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet
> the
> matter
> of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say
> nothing
> about
> Aragorn either, unless you must.'
> 'Why not? What is wrong with Strider?' Pippin whispered. 'He meant
> to
> come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself anyway.'
> 'Maybe, maybe,' said Gandalf. 'Though if he comes, it is likely to
> be
> in
> some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better
> so. At
> least he should come unheralded by us.'
> Gandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. 'See, Master
> Pippin,
> there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor;
> though
> it might
> have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were
> still
> birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as I
> bid! It is
> scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a
> mighty lord
> to speak over much of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim
> the
> kingship. Is that enough?'
> 'Kingship?' said Pippin amazed.
> 'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed
> ears
> and mind asleep, wake up now!' He knocked on the door.
> The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked
> into
> a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at
> either
> side,
> beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of
> black
> marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures
> of
> beasts
> and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with
> dull gold,
> inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor
> storied
> webs,
> nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that
> long solemn
> hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall
> images
> graven in cold stone.
> Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe
> fell
> on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far
> end upon
> a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble
> shaped
> like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with
> gems an
> image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of
> the dais,
> upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone
> chair, black
> and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his
> hand was a
> white rod with a golden knob. He did not look up. Solemnly they
> paced
> the long
> floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool.
> Then
> Gandalf spoke.
> 'Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion!
> I
> am
> come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.'
> Then the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its
> proud
> bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark
> deep
> eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn.
> 'Dark
> indeed
> is the hour,' said the old man, 'and at such times you are wont to
> come,
> Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of
> Gondor
> is
> drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness.
> It has
> been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is
> this he?'
> 'It is,' said Gandalf. 'One of the twain. The other is with
> Théoden of
> Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet
> this is not
> he of whom the omens spoke.'
> 'Yet a Halfling still,' said Denethor grimly, 'and little love do I
> bear
> the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels
> and
> drew
> away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have
> need of
> you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.'
> 'He would have gone,' said Gandalf. 'Be not unjust in your grief!
> Boromir
> claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was
> a
> masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with
> him and
> learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had
> news of
> that ere we came?'
> 'I have received this,' said Denethor, and laying down his rod he
> lifted
> from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he
> held up one
> half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound
> with
> silver.
> 'That is the horn that Boromir always wore!' cried Pippin.
> 'Verily,' said Denethor. 'And in my turn I bore it, and so did each
> eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the
> failing
> of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine
> of
> Araw in
> the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the
> northern marches
> thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will
> wind no
> more.' He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned
> his black
> glance upon Pippin. 'What say you to that, Halfling?'
> 'Thirteen, thirteen days,' faltered Pippin. 'Yes, I think that would
> be
> so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came.
> Only more
> orcs.'
> 'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were
> there?
> Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet
> he did
> not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?'
> Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. 'The mightiest man may be slain
> by
> one arrow,' he said; 'and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I
> saw him he
> sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his
> side.
> Then I
> swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more.
> But I
> honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my
> kinsman
> Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the
> Dark
> Lord;
> and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.'
> Then Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred
> strangely
> within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold
> voice. 'Little
> service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a
> hobbit, a
> halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer
> it,
> in
> payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew
> forth his
> small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.
> A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed
> over
> the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand,
> laying the
> shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said.
> Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?'
> said
> Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade
> wrought
> by our
> own kindred in the North in the deep past?'
> 'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country '
> said
> Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not
> willingly tell
> more of them.'
> 'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and
> once
> again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I
> accept
> your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have
> courteous speech,
> strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we
> shall have
> need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to
> come.
> Swear to me now!'
> 'Take the hilt,' said Gandalf, 'and speak after the Lord, if you are
> resolved on this.'
> 'I am,' said Pippin.
> The old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to
> the
> hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:
> 'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and
> Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let
> be,
> to come
> and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying,
> from this
> hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the
> world end.
> So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'
> And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor,
> Steward of
> the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that
> which is
> given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with
> vengeance.'
> Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.
> 'And now,' said Denethor, 'my first command to you: speak and be not
> silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you
> can of
> Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!' As he spoke he struck a small
> silver gong
> that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward.
> Pippin saw
> then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the
> door, unseen
> as he and Gandalf entered.
> 'Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,' said Denethor, 'and
> see
> that none trouble us for one hour.'
> 'It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,' he
> said
> to Gandalf. 'Much of more import, it may seem, and yet to me less
> pressing.
> But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.'
> 'And earlier, it is to be hoped,' said Gandalf. 'For I have not
> ridden
> hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed
> of wind,
> only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught
> to you
> that Théoden has fought a great battle and that Isengard is
> overthrown, and
> that I have broken the staff of Saruman?'
> 'It is much to me. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for
> my
> own counsel against the menace of the East.' He turned his dark eyes
> on
> Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt
> the strain
> between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn
> from eye
> to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.
> Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf
> did,
> more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense
> other
> than
> sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the
> deeper
> wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.
> 'How much
> older?' he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had
> never
> thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards,
> but even
> then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf?
> In what
> far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he
> leave it? And
> then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf
> still looked
> each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was
> Denethor who
> first withdrew his gaze.
> 'Yea,' he said; 'for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the
> lords
> of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come
> to them.
> But sit now!'
> Then men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a
> salver
> with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but
> he could
> not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only
> imagined it,
> that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced
> upon
> Pippin's face?
> 'Now tell me your tale, my liege,' said Denethor, half kindly; half
> mockingly. 'For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be
> welcome
> indeed.'
> Pippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing
> eye of
> the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions,
> and all the
> while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and
> (so Pippin
> felt) holding in check a rising wrath and impatience. When the hour
> was over
> and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. 'It cannot
> be
> more
> than nine o'clock,' he thought. 'I could now eat three breakfasts on
> end.'
> 'Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,' said
> Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if
> he will.
> But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he
> shall
> be known
> as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send
> word to the
> Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after
> the
> third
> hour has rung.
> 'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will.
> None
> shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief
> hours of
> sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return
> to my
> comfort!'
> 'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will
> die.
> You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not
> understand
> your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least,
> while I sit
> by?'
> 'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride
> would
> be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out
> such gifts
> according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be
> made the
> tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no
> purpose
> higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and
> the
> rule of
> Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should
> come
> again.'
> 'Unless the king should come again?' said Gandalf. 'Well, my lord
> Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that
> event, which
> few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that
> you
> are
> pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is
> mine, neither
> of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that
> are in
> peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I
> shall not
> wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything
> passes
> through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower
> again in
> days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?' And with
> that he
> turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.
> Gandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went.
> Their
> guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them
> across the
> Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone.
> After
> several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel
> upon the
> north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the
> mountain.
> Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven
> stair, he
> showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of
> dull gold
> sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table,
> two
> chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves
> and wellclad
> beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three
> high
> narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin,
> still
> shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros far away. Pippin
> had to
> climb on the bench to look out over the deep stone sill.
> 'Are you angry with me, Gandalf?' he said, as their guide went out
> and
> closed the door. 'I did the best I could.'
> 'You did indeed!' said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and
> stood
> beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders and
> gazing out of
> the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close
> beside his
> own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the
> wizard's
> face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he
> looked more
> intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a
> fountain of
> mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.
> 'Indeed you did your best,' said the wizard; 'and I hope that it may
> be
> long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between
> two such
> terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you
> than
> you may
> have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did
> not lead
> the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high
> honour who
> was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men
> think
> much
> about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long
> thought
> to the rhyme and to the words _Isildur's Bane_, since Boromir went
> away.
> 'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his
> descent
> from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs
> nearly true
> in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in
> Boromir whom
> he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his
> will
> thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those
> that dwell
> far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.
> 'Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know
> what
> put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well
> done. I did
> not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold
> counsel. It
> touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour.
> And
> at least
> you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith – when
> you
> are not
> on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command;
> and
> he will
> not forget. Be wary still!'
> He fell silent and sighed. 'Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow
> may
> bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than
> today, for
> many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help
> it. The
> board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly
> desire to
> find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is
> in the
> City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go. Pippin. I
> must go to
> this lords' council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the
> move,
> and he
> is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much
> of it as
> any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your
> blade!'
> Gandalf went to the door, and there he turned. 'I am in haste
> Pippin,' he
> said. 'Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you
> are not
> too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These
> people are
> kindly to beasts, for they are a good and wise folk, but they have
> less skill
> with horses than some.'
> With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of
> a
> clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel. Three strokes it
> rang,
> like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising
> of
> the sun.
> After a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked
> about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the
> towers and
> tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue
> air Mount
> Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to
> and fro in
> the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to
> changes of
> post and duty.
> 'Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,' said Pippin aloud to
> himself.
> 'Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring
> sunshine. And
> how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it
> over? And
> when do they have dinner, and where?'
> Presently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along
> the
> narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin
> felt
> lonely
> and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need.
> The man
> came straight up to him.
> 'You are Peregrin the Halfling?' he said. 'I am told that you have
> been
> sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome! He held
> out his
> hand and Pippin took it.
> 'I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning,
> and
> I
> have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you
> some of the
> many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I
> would
> learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this
> land and
> though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any
> tale that
> we know. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him
> well?'
> 'Well,' said Pippin. 'I have known _of_ him all my short life, as
> you
> might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is
> much to read
> in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or
> two. Yet
> perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only
> one
> of our
> Company, I think, who really knew him.'
> 'Aragorn?' said Beregond. 'Who is he?'
> 'Oh,' stammered Pippin, 'he was a man who went about with us. I
> think
> he
> is in Rohan now.'
> 'You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you
> of
> that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its
> people. But
> I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would
> ask. What
> would you know, Master Peregrin?'
> 'Er well,' said Pippin, 'if I may venture to say so, rather a
> burning
> question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and
> all
> that? I
> mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is
> the
> diningroom,
> if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see
> as
> we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of
> ale as soon
> as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.'
> Beregond looked at him gravely. 'An old campaigner, I see,' he said.
> 'They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope
> of food
> and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have
> not yet
> eaten today?'
> 'Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,' said Pippin. 'But no more
> than a
> cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord;
> but
> he
> racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry
> work.'
> Beregond laughed. 'At the table small men may do the greater deeds,
> we
> say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the
> Citadel,
> and with
> greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now
> in
> posture
> of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light,
> and
> go to
> our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!' He laughed
> again, seeing
> the dismay in Pippin's face. 'Those who have had heavy duty take
> somewhat to
> refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the
> nuncheon, at noon
> or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such
> mirth as
> there still may be, about the hour of sunset.
> 'Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment,
> and
> eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.'
> 'One moment!' said Pippin blushing. 'Greed, or hunger by your
> courtesy,
> put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him,
> asked
> me to
> see to his horse – Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple
> of the
> king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his
> services.
> I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many
> men,
> and if
> his good will is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax
> with all
> honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if
> it is
> possible.'
> 'Hobbit?' said Beregond.
> 'That is what we call ourselves,' said Pippin.
> 'I am glad to learn it,' said Beregond, 'for now I may say that
> strange
> accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits are a fair-spoken folk.
> But come!
> You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts,
> and
> we see
> them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the
> mountain-vales,
> and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be
> short, a mere
> call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.'
> Pippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in
> the
> sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair
> stables
> where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the
> errand-riders
> of the Lord: messengers always ready to go at the urgent command of
> Denethor
> or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were
> out
> and
> away.
> Shadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head.
> 'Good morning!' said Pippin. 'Gandalf will come as soon as he may.
> He
> is busy,
> but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you;
> and you
> resting, I hope, after your long labours.'
> Shadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to
> handle
> his head gently and stroke his great flanks.
> 'He looks as if he were spoiling for a race, and not newly come from
> a
> great journey,' said Beregond. 'How strong and proud he is! Where is
> his
> harness? It should be rich and fair.'
> 'None is rich and fair enough for him,' said Pippin. 'He will have
> none.
> If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well,
> no bit,
> bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have
> patience.
> Battle is coming.'
> Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook,
> and
> they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the
> manger
> was well filled.
> 'And now for our manger,' said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to
> the
> citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower.
> There
> they
> went down a long cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There
> were
> hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.
> 'This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard.'
> said
> Beregond. 'Greetings, Targon!' he called through the hatch. 'It is
> early yet,
> but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He
> has ridden
> long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this
> morning,
> and he
> is hungry. Give us what you have!'
> They got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of
> the
> winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of
> new-drawn
> ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket
> and
> climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at
> the east
> end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure
> in the
> walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could look
> out on
> the morning over the world.
> They ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and
> customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had
> seen. And
> ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with
> greater
> wonder
> at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or
> standing
> tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below.
> 'I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,' said Beregond, 'that to
> us
> you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so;
> and yet
> you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards
> could
> boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble
> page,
> after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is
> not so,
> and you must pardon my foolishness.'
> 'I do,' said Pippin. 'Though you are not far wrong. I am still
> little
> more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be
> four years
> yet before I "come of age", as we say in the Shire: But do
> not bother about
> me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.'
> The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been
> drawn
> up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of
> white
> cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now
> flapping and
> tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in
> the valleybottom,
> five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be
> seen
> grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a
> mighty
> sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and
> shimmer,
> far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
> Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into
> the
> distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but
> nowhere could
> he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the
> green
> fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines
> towards the
> Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would
> ride up,
> and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the
> traffic
> went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then
> bending
> swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight.
> It was
> wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran a broad green
> ridingtrack,
> and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro,
> but
> all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going
> south. But
> soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were
> moving in
> three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great
> waggons with
> fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim
> of the
> road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
> 'That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the
> mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,' said Beregond. 'There
> go
> the last
> of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged the children, and the
> women
> that must go with them. They must all be gone from the Gate and the
> road clear
> for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad
> necessity.'
> He
> sighed. 'Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And
> there
> were
> always too few children in this city; but now there are none-save
> some young
> lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son
> is one of
> them.'
> They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if
> at
> any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields.
> 'What can I
> see there?' he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve
> of the
> Anduin. 'Is that another city, or what is it?'
> 'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which
> this
> was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either
> side
> of
> Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it
> back in the
> days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an
> outpost, and
> to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the
> Fell
> Riders out of Minas Morgul.'
> 'The Black Riders?' said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were
> wide
> and
> dark with an old fear re-awakened.
> 'Yes, they were black,' said Beregond, 'and I see that you know
> something
> of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.'
> 'I know of them,' said Pippin softly, 'but I will not speak of them
> now,
> so near, so near.' He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River,
> and it
> seemed to him that all he could see was a vast and threatening
> shadow. Perhaps
> it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges
> softened by
> wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a
> cloud-wall, and
> beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it
> seemed
> to his
> eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly
> rising to
> smother the regions of the sun.
> 'So near to Mordor?' said Beregond quietly. 'Yes, there it lies. We
> seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow:
> sometimes it
> seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is
> growing and
> darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the
> Fell
> Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many
> of
> our best
> men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back
> from
> this
> western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. For a
> little
> while. But we await now a new onslaught there. Maybe the chief
> onslaught of
> the war that comes.'
> 'When?' said Pippin. 'Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons last
> night
> and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war
> had begun.
> He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have
> slowed up
> again.'
> 'Only because everything is now ready,' said Beregond. 'It is but
> the
> deep breath before the plunge.'
> 'But why were the beacons lit last night?'
> 'It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,'
> answered
> Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his
> captains. They
> have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike
> other men:
> he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in
> the Tower
> at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read
> somewhat of the
> future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy,
> wrestling
> with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But
> however that
> may be, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous
> errand,
> and he may have sent tidings.
> 'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was
> the
> news that came yestereve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet
> drawing near
> to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the
> South. They
> have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied
> them with
> the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack
> will draw
> off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and
> Belfalas, where
> folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north
> to
> Rohan;
> and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you
> bring.
> 'And yet' – he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east,
> and
> south – 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught
> now
> in a
> great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords,
> raiding
> from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This
> is a great war
> long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may
> say.
> Things
> move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and
> north
> in
> Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be
> put to
> the test, to stand, or fall – under the Shadow.
> 'Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt
> of
> the
> chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the
> depths of
> time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall
> hardest.
> And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we
> fall, who
> shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall
> stand?'
> Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers
> and
> brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the
> gathering
> gloom in
> the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the
> orcs in
> the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of
> evil eye,
> and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and of the
> winged
> terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither.
> And even at that
> moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured, as though a
> dark wing
> had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught,
> high and far
> up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold.
> He
> blanched and cowered against the wall.
> 'What was that?' asked Beregond. 'You also felt something?'
> 'Yes,' muttered Pippin. 'It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow
> of
> doom, a Fell Rider of the air.'
> 'Yes, the shadow of doom,' said Beregond. 'I fear that Minas Tirith
> shall
> fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'
> For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak.
> Then
> suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and
> the
> banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. 'It is
> passed,' he
> said. 'No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has
> returned and is
> with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still
> upon our
> knees.'
> 'Rightly said!' cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro.
> 'Nay,
> though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall
> not perish
> yet. Not though the walls be taken by a reckless foe that will build
> a hill of
> carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret
> ways of
> escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some
> hidden
> valley where the grass is green.'
> 'All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill.' said Pippin. 'I
> am no
> warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the
> edge of
> one that I can't escape is worst of all. What a long day it seems
> already! I
> should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making
> no move,
> striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I
> think,
> but for Gandalf.'
> 'Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!' said
> Beregond. 'But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold,
> more bold
> than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a
> captain can
> be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and
> yet a man
> of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir.
> Less
> reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what
> indeed can he
> do? We cannot assault the mountains of – of yonder realm. Our reach
> is
> shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then
> our hand
> must be heavy!' He smote the hilt of his sword.
> Pippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that
> he
> had yet seen in that land; and with a glitter in his eye as he
> thought of the
> battle. 'Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,' he thought,
> but he
> said nothing. 'A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps but on the wrong
> chessboard.'
> So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the
> noonbells
> were rung, and there was a stir in the citadel; for all save the
> watchmen were going to their meal.
> 'Will you come with me?' said Beregond. 'You may join my mess for
> this
> day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord
> may hold
> you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well
> to meet
> as many men as you may, while there is yet time.'
> 'I shall be glad to come,' said Pippin. 'I am lonely, to tell you
> the
> truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one
> to talk to
> or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the
> captain?
> If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?'
> 'Nay, nay,' Beregond laughed, 'I am no captain. Neither office nor
> rank
> nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third
> Company of the
> Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard
> of the
> Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour
> in the
> land.'
> 'Then it is far beyond me,' said Pippin. 'Take me back to our room,
> and
> if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like – as your guest.'
> Gandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin
> went
> with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company.
> And
> it
> seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for
> Pippin was
> very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about
> Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and
> rumour
> declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to
> offer
> allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that
> when the
> Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling
> warrior, small
> maybe, but doughty.
> Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could
> not
> be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended
> by
> Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for
> coming
> among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and
> gave him as
> much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to
> be
> 'wary'
> according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag
> freely
> after the manner of a hobbit among friends.
> At length Beregond rose. 'Farewell for this time!' he said. 'I have
> duty
> now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you
> are lonely,
> as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My
> son
> would go
> with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down
> to the
> lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain,
> the
> Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that
> are
> remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the
> Great Gate
> ere the closing.'
> He went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was
> still
> fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so
> far
> southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless,
> and
> he
> decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that
> he had
> saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the
> horse seemed
> to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
> People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely
> courteous,
> saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands
> upon the
> breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors
> cried to
> others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the
> companion of
> Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but
> it was not
> long before he learned at least what was meant by _Ernil i
> Pheriannath_ and
> knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
> He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements
> to
> the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the
> Lampwrights'
> Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found
> the Old
> Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings
> running
> back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind
> which was
> the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared
> porch and
> a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the
> pillars,
> the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he
> stopped to look
> at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout
> he sprang
> across the grass and came into the street, followed by several
> others. There
> he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
> 'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a
> stranger in
> the City.'
> 'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
> 'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are
> you,
> and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be
> five
> feet. I
> am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the
> tallest. What is
> your father?'
> 'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms
> the
> lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly
> twenty-nine,
> so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to
> grow any
> more, save sideways.'
> 'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old!
> As
> old
> as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could
> stand you on
> your head or lay you on your back.'
> 'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And
> maybe
> I
> could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little
> country.
> Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong;
> and I
> have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a
> trial and
> nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are
> older,
> you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though
> you may
> have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn
> you:
> I am
> not,
> kianul1000 wrote:
> The Lord of the Rings_
> _Chapter 1_
> Minas Tirith
> Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered
> if
> he
> was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in
> which
> he had
> been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was
> rushing by
> and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the
> wheeling
> stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the
> mountains
> of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and
> stages of
> their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.
> There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and
> then
> in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to
> the silent
> town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they
> reached its
> shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men
> wilted with
> fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in
> a
> corner,
> tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men
> talking and
> Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night.
> This was
> the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone.
> And
> with
> that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of
> the
> wind
> became filled with menacing voices.
> A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark
> barriers
> Pippin cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what
> dreadful country
> Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it
> was the
> moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So
> the
> night
> was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would go on. He
> stirred and
> spoke.
> 'Where are we, Gandalf?' he asked.
> 'In the realm of Gondor,' the wizard answered. 'The land of
> Anórien is
> still passing by.'
> There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried
> Pippin
> suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are
> there
> dragons in this land? Look, there is another!'
> For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadowfax! We must
> hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight,
> calling
> for aid.
> War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame
> on Eilenach; and
> there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad,
> and the
> Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.'
> But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he
> lifted
> up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh
> of other
> horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and
> three
> riders
> swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into
> the West.
> Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the
> night flowed
> over him like a roaring wind.
> Pippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf
> telling
> him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had
> beacons built
> on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range,
> and
> maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in
> readiness
> to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in
> the South.
> 'It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,' he said; 'and
> in the
> ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven
> Stones.'
> Pippin stirred uneasily.
> 'Sleep again, and do not be afraid!' said Gandalf. 'For you are not
> going
> like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as
> safe as
> you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is
> taken, then
> the Shire will be no refuge.'
> 'You do not comfort me,' said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept
> over
> him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep
> dream
> was a
> glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above
> the
> clouds
> as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where
> Frodo was,
> and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not
> know that
> Frodo from far away looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor
> ere the
> coming of the day.
> Pippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a
> night
> of
> journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand
> again, and
> chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with
> sweat, but he
> held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men
> heavily
> cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall
> of stone.
> Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed
> the
> sound of
> hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels,
> and
> the
> creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and there in
> the fog.
> Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he
> listened Pippin
> became aware that he himself was being discussed.
> 'Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the men,
> 'and
> you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go
> forward. But we
> do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains
> in the
> North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless
> they
> be
> mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'
> 'I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,' said Gandalf.
> 'And as
> for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed
> through
> more
> battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his
> height; and
> he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear
> tidings,
> and
> great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is
> Peregrin,
> a very
> valiant man.'
> 'Man?' said Ingold dubiously; and the others laughed.
> 'Man!' cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. 'Man! Indeed not! I am a
> hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and
> again by
> necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!'
> 'Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,' said Ingold. 'But
> what is
> a hobbit?'
> 'A Halfling,' answered Gandalf. 'Nay, not the one that was spoken
> of,' he
> added seeing the wonder in the men's faces. 'Not he, yet one of his
> kindred.'
> 'Yes, and one who journeyed with him,' said Pippin. 'And Boromir of
> your
> City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at
> the last
> he was slain defending me from many foes.'
> 'Peace!' said Gandalf. 'The news of that grief should have been told
> first to the father.'
> 'It has been guessed already,' said Ingold; 'for there have been
> strange
> portents here of late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of
> Minas
> Tirith
> will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be
> he man
> or-'
> 'Hobbit,' said Pippin. 'Little service can I offer to your lord, but
> what
> I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.'
> 'Fare you well!' said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadow fax,
> and he
> passed through a narrow gate in the wall. 'May you bring good
> counsel
> to
> Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!' Ingold cried. 'But
> you come
> with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.'
> 'Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,' answered
> Gandalf.
> 'And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in
> repairing
> the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence
> against the
> storm that is at hand – that and such hope as I bring. For not all
> the tidings
> that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your
> swords!'
> 'The work will be finished ere evening,' said Ingold. 'This is the
> last
> portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack,
> for it
> looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will
> they
> answer the summons, think you?'
> 'Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your
> back.
> This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant!
> But for
> Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of
> Anórien and
> no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!'
> Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So
> the
> men
> of Gondor called the out wall that they had built with great labour,
> after
> Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or
> more it ran
> from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence
> the fields
> of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and
> terraces
> falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from
> the Great
> Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant,
> and there
> from a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river,
> and men
> had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled
> causeway, the
> road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed
> through a
> guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall
> was
> little more than one league from the City, and that was
> south-eastward. There
> Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South
> Ithilien,
> bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and
> beneath it
> lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came
> upstream from
> the southern fiefs.
> The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and
> homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many
> rills
> rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet
> the
> herdsmen
> and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of
> the people
> of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high
> vales of the
> mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin
> with its
> five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains
> and the
> sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled,
> and there
> were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from
> the
> forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark
> Years
> ere the
> coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas,
> dwelt
> Prince
> Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high
> blood, and
> his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.
> Now after Gandalf had ridden for some time the light of day grew in
> the
> sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea
> of mist,
> rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great
> mountains reared
> their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if
> in the
> making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier,
> carving out a
> mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come.
> And
> there
> where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw,
> as Gandalf
> had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple
> shadows of
> its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And
> upon its
> out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone
> so strong
> and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants
> out of
> the bones of the earth.
> Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to
> white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed
> over the
> eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the
> City. Then
> Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within
> the
> topmost walls' shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of
> pearl and
> silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if
> it were
> wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the
> battlements in the morning breeze' and high and far he heard a clear
> ringing
> as of silver trumpets.
> So Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor
> at
> the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.
> 'Mithrandir! Mithrandir!' men cried. 'Now we know that the storm is
> indeed nigh!'
> 'It is upon you,' said Gandalf. 'I have ridden on its wings. Let me
> pass!
> I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts.
> Whatever
> betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known.
> Let me
> pass!'
> Then men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned
> him
> no
> further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before
> him and at
> the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very
> little
> and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden
> by
> the
> errand-riders of their lord. And they said: 'Surely that is one of
> the great
> steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to
> strengthen
> us.' But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road.
> For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven
> levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall,
> and
> in each
> wall was a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great
> Gate
> in the
> City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced
> half south,
> and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the
> paved way
> that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that
> across
> the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the
> Great Gate
> it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose
> huge outthrust
> bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For
> partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty
> craft and
> labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind
> the Gate
> a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing
> east. Up it
> rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned
> by a
> battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a
> mountainous
> ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet
> below.
> The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in
> the heart
> of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh
> gate.
> Thus men
> reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before
> the feet
> of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to
> the
> pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet
> above the
> plain.
> A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of
> enemies,
> if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe
> could come
> behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon
> the
> narrow
> shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But
> that
> shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged
> with
> great
> ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end;
> and
> in that
> space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords,
> for
> ever
> silent between the mountain and the tower.
> Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and
> more
> splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger
> than
> Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year
> by
> year
> into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt
> at ease
> there. In every street they passed some great house or court over
> whose doors
> and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and
> ancient
> shapes:
> names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt
> there; and
> yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide
> pavements, nor
> voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or
> empty
> window.
> At last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm
> sun
> that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of
> Ithilien,
> glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great
> arch with
> keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head.
> Gandalf
> dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax
> suffered
> himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.
> The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of
> strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to
> the face,
> and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds;
> but
> the
> helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought
> of
> _mithril_, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black
> surcoats were
> embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver
> crown and
> many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and
> none wore
> it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the
> Court
> of the
> Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
> Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them:
> and
> at
> once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly
> Gandalf
> strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played there
> in
> the
> morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the
> midst.
> drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops
> dripped sadly
> from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.
> Pippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked
> mournful,
> he
> thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place
> where
> everything else was well tended.
> _Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree._
> The words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And
> then
> he
> found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming
> tower; and
> behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered
> the cool
> echoing shadows of the house of stone.
> They walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went
> Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. 'Be careful of your words, Master
> Peregrin!
> This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old
> man. Denethor is
> of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and
> power,
> though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and
> question
> you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him
> greatly: too
> much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But under
> cover of
> this love he will think it easier to learn what he witches from you
> rather
> than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet
> the
> matter
> of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say
> nothing
> about
> Aragorn either, unless you must.'
> 'Why not? What is wrong with Strider?' Pippin whispered. 'He meant
> to
> come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself anyway.'
> 'Maybe, maybe,' said Gandalf. 'Though if he comes, it is likely to
> be
> in
> some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better
> so. At
> least he should come unheralded by us.'
> Gandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. 'See, Master
> Pippin,
> there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor;
> though
> it might
> have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were
> still
> birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as I
> bid! It is
> scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a
> mighty lord
> to speak over much of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim
> the
> kingship. Is that enough?'
> 'Kingship?' said Pippin amazed.
> 'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed
> ears
> and mind asleep, wake up now!' He knocked on the door.
> The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked
> into
> a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at
> either
> side,
> beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of
> black
> marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures
> of
> beasts
> and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with
> dull gold,
> inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor
> storied
> webs,
> nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that
> long solemn
> hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall
> images
> graven in cold stone.
> Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe
> fell
> on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far
> end upon
> a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble
> shaped
> like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with
> gems an
> image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of
> the dais,
> upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone
> chair, black
> and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his
> hand was a
> white rod with a golden knob. He did not look up. Solemnly they
> paced
> the long
> floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool.
> Then
> Gandalf spoke.
> 'Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion!
> I
> am
> come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.'
> Then the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its
> proud
> bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark
> deep
> eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn.
> 'Dark
> indeed
> is the hour,' said the old man, 'and at such times you are wont to
> come,
> Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of
> Gondor
> is
> drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness.
> It has
> been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is
> this he?'
> 'It is,' said Gandalf. 'One of the twain. The other is with
> Théoden of
> Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet
> this is not
> he of whom the omens spoke.'
> 'Yet a Halfling still,' said Denethor grimly, 'and little love do I
> bear
> the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels
> and
> drew
> away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have
> need of
> you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.'
> 'He would have gone,' said Gandalf. 'Be not unjust in your grief!
> Boromir
> claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was
> a
> masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with
> him and
> learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had
> news of
> that ere we came?'
> 'I have received this,' said Denethor, and laying down his rod he
> lifted
> from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he
> held up one
> half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound
> with
> silver.
> 'That is the horn that Boromir always wore!' cried Pippin.
> 'Verily,' said Denethor. 'And in my turn I bore it, and so did each
> eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the
> failing
> of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine
> of
> Araw in
> the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the
> northern marches
> thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will
> wind no
> more.' He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned
> his black
> glance upon Pippin. 'What say you to that, Halfling?'
> 'Thirteen, thirteen days,' faltered Pippin. 'Yes, I think that would
> be
> so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came.
> Only more
> orcs.'
> 'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were
> there?
> Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet
> he did
> not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?'
> Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. 'The mightiest man may be slain
> by
> one arrow,' he said; 'and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I
> saw him he
> sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his
> side.
> Then I
> swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more.
> But I
> honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my
> kinsman
> Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the
> Dark
> Lord;
> and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.'
> Then Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred
> strangely
> within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold
> voice. 'Little
> service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a
> hobbit, a
> halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer
> it,
> in
> payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew
> forth his
> small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.
> A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed
> over
> the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand,
> laying the
> shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said.
> Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?'
> said
> Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade
> wrought
> by our
> own kindred in the North in the deep past?'
> 'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country '
> said
> Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not
> willingly tell
> more of them.'
> 'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and
> once
> again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I
> accept
> your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have
> courteous speech,
> strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we
> shall have
> need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to
> come.
> Swear to me now!'
> 'Take the hilt,' said Gandalf, 'and speak after the Lord, if you are
> resolved on this.'
> 'I am,' said Pippin.
> The old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to
> the
> hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:
> 'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and
> Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let
> be,
> to come
> and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying,
> from this
> hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the
> world end.
> So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'
> And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor,
> Steward of
> the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that
> which is
> given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with
> vengeance.'
> Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.
> 'And now,' said Denethor, 'my first command to you: speak and be not
> silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you
> can of
> Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!' As he spoke he struck a small
> silver gong
> that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward.
> Pippin saw
> then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the
> door, unseen
> as he and Gandalf entered.
> 'Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,' said Denethor, 'and
> see
> that none trouble us for one hour.'
> 'It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,' he
> said
> to Gandalf. 'Much of more import, it may seem, and yet to me less
> pressing.
> But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.'
> 'And earlier, it is to be hoped,' said Gandalf. 'For I have not
> ridden
> hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed
> of wind,
> only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught
> to you
> that Théoden has fought a great battle and that Isengard is
> overthrown, and
> that I have broken the staff of Saruman?'
> 'It is much to me. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for
> my
> own counsel against the menace of the East.' He turned his dark eyes
> on
> Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt
> the strain
> between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn
> from eye
> to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.
> Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf
> did,
> more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense
> other
> than
> sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the
> deeper
> wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.
> 'How much
> older?' he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had
> never
> thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards,
> but even
> then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf?
> In what
> far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he
> leave it? And
> then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf
> still looked
> each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was
> Denethor who
> first withdrew his gaze.
> 'Yea,' he said; 'for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the
> lords
> of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come
> to them.
> But sit now!'
> Then men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a
> salver
> with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but
> he could
> not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only
> imagined it,
> that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced
> upon
> Pippin's face?
> 'Now tell me your tale, my liege,' said Denethor, half kindly; half
> mockingly. 'For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be
> welcome
> indeed.'
> Pippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing
> eye of
> the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions,
> and all the
> while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and
> (so Pippin
> felt) holding in check a rising wrath and impatience. When the hour
> was over
> and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. 'It cannot
> be
> more
> than nine o'clock,' he thought. 'I could now eat three breakfasts on
> end.'
> 'Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,' said
> Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if
> he will.
> But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he
> shall
> be known
> as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send
> word to the
> Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after
> the
> third
> hour has rung.
> 'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will.
> None
> shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief
> hours of
> sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return
> to my
> comfort!'
> 'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will
> die.
> You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not
> understand
> your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least,
> while I sit
> by?'
> 'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride
> would
> be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out
> such gifts
> according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be
> made the
> tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no
> purpose
> higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and
> the
> rule of
> Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should
> come
> again.'
> 'Unless the king should come again?' said Gandalf. 'Well, my lord
> Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that
> event, which
> few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that
> you
> are
> pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is
> mine, neither
> of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that
> are in
> peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I
> shall not
> wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything
> passes
> through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower
> again in
> days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?' And with
> that he
> turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.
> Gandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went.
> Their
> guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them
> across the
> Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone.
> After
> several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel
> upon the
> north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the
> mountain.
> Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven
> stair, he
> showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of
> dull gold
> sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table,
> two
> chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves
> and wellclad
> beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three
> high
> narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin,
> still
> shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros far away. Pippin
> had to
> climb on the bench to look out over the deep stone sill.
> 'Are you angry with me, Gandalf?' he said, as their guide went out
> and
> closed the door. 'I did the best I could.'
> 'You did indeed!' said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and
> stood
> beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders and
> gazing out of
> the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close
> beside his
> own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the
> wizard's
> face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he
> looked more
> intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a
> fountain of
> mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.
> 'Indeed you did your best,' said the wizard; 'and I hope that it may
> be
> long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between
> two such
> terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you
> than
> you may
> have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did
> not lead
> the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high
> honour who
> was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men
> think
> much
> about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long
> thought
> to the rhyme and to the words _Isildur's Bane_, since Boromir went
> away.
> 'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his
> descent
> from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs
> nearly true
> in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in
> Boromir whom
> he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his
> will
> thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those
> that dwell
> far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.
> 'Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know
> what
> put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well
> done. I did
> not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold
> counsel. It
> touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour.
> And
> at least
> you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith – when
> you
> are not
> on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command;
> and
> he will
> not forget. Be wary still!'
> He fell silent and sighed. 'Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow
> may
> bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than
> today, for
> many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help
> it. The
> board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly
> desire to
> find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is
> in the
> City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go. Pippin. I
> must go to
> this lords' council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the
> move,
> and he
> is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much
> of it as
> any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your
> blade!'
> Gandalf went to the door, and there he turned. 'I am in haste
> Pippin,' he
> said. 'Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you
> are not
> too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These
> people are
> kindly to beasts, for they are a good and wise folk, but they have
> less skill
> with horses than some.'
> With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of
> a
> clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel. Three strokes it
> rang,
> like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising
> of
> the sun.
> After a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked
> about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the
> towers and
> tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue
> air Mount
> Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to
> and fro in
> the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to
> changes of
> post and duty.
> 'Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,' said Pippin aloud to
> himself.
> 'Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring
> sunshine. And
> how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it
> over? And
> when do they have dinner, and where?'
> Presently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along
> the
> narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin
> felt
> lonely
> and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need.
> The man
> came straight up to him.
> 'You are Peregrin the Halfling?' he said. 'I am told that you have
> been
> sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome! He held
> out his
> hand and Pippin took it.
> 'I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning,
> and
> I
> have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you
> some of the
> many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I
> would
> learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this
> land and
> though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any
> tale that
> we know. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him
> well?'
> 'Well,' said Pippin. 'I have known _of_ him all my short life, as
> you
> might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is
> much to read
> in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or
> two. Yet
> perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only
> one
> of our
> Company, I think, who really knew him.'
> 'Aragorn?' said Beregond. 'Who is he?'
> 'Oh,' stammered Pippin, 'he was a man who went about with us. I
> think
> he
> is in Rohan now.'
> 'You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you
> of
> that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its
> people. But
> I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would
> ask. What
> would you know, Master Peregrin?'
> 'Er well,' said Pippin, 'if I may venture to say so, rather a
> burning
> question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and
> all
> that? I
> mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is
> the
> diningroom,
> if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see
> as
> we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of
> ale as soon
> as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.'
> Beregond looked at him gravely. 'An old campaigner, I see,' he said.
> 'They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope
> of food
> and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have
> not yet
> eaten today?'
> 'Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,' said Pippin. 'But no more
> than a
> cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord;
> but
> he
> racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry
> work.'
> Beregond laughed. 'At the table small men may do the greater deeds,
> we
> say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the
> Citadel,
> and with
> greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now
> in
> posture
> of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light,
> and
> go to
> our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!' He laughed
> again, seeing
> the dismay in Pippin's face. 'Those who have had heavy duty take
> somewhat to
> refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the
> nuncheon, at noon
> or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such
> mirth as
> there still may be, about the hour of sunset.
> 'Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment,
> and
> eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.'
> 'One moment!' said Pippin blushing. 'Greed, or hunger by your
> courtesy,
> put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him,
> asked
> me to
> see to his horse – Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple
> of the
> king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his
> services.
> I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many
> men,
> and if
> his good will is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax
> with all
> honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if
> it is
> possible.'
> 'Hobbit?' said Beregond.
> 'That is what we call ourselves,' said Pippin.
> 'I am glad to learn it,' said Beregond, 'for now I may say that
> strange
> accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits are a fair-spoken folk.
> But come!
> You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts,
> and
> we see
> them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the
> mountain-vales,
> and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be
> short, a mere
> call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.'
> Pippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in
> the
> sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair
> stables
> where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the
> errand-riders
> of the Lord: messengers always ready to go at the urgent command of
> Denethor
> or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were
> out
> and
> away.
> Shadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head.
> 'Good morning!' said Pippin. 'Gandalf will come as soon as he may.
> He
> is busy,
> but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you;
> and you
> resting, I hope, after your long labours.'
> Shadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to
> handle
> his head gently and stroke his great flanks.
> 'He looks as if he were spoiling for a race, and not newly come from
> a
> great journey,' said Beregond. 'How strong and proud he is! Where is
> his
> harness? It should be rich and fair.'
> 'None is rich and fair enough for him,' said Pippin. 'He will have
> none.
> If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well,
> no bit,
> bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have
> patience.
> Battle is coming.'
> Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook,
> and
> they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the
> manger
> was well filled.
> 'And now for our manger,' said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to
> the
> citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower.
> There
> they
> went down a long cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There
> were
> hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.
> 'This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard.'
> said
> Beregond. 'Greetings, Targon!' he called through the hatch. 'It is
> early yet,
> but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He
> has ridden
> long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this
> morning,
> and he
> is hungry. Give us what you have!'
> They got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of
> the
> winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of
> new-drawn
> ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket
> and
> climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at
> the east
> end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure
> in the
> walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could look
> out on
> the morning over the world.
> They ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and
> customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had
> seen. And
> ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with
> greater
> wonder
> at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or
> standing
> tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below.
> 'I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,' said Beregond, 'that to
> us
> you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so;
> and yet
> you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards
> could
> boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble
> page,
> after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is
> not so,
> and you must pardon my foolishness.'
> 'I do,' said Pippin. 'Though you are not far wrong. I am still
> little
> more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be
> four years
> yet before I "come of age", as we say in the Shire: But do
> not bother about
> me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.'
> The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been
> drawn
> up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of
> white
> cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now
> flapping and
> tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in
> the valleybottom,
> five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be
> seen
> grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a
> mighty
> sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and
> shimmer,
> far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
> Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into
> the
> distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but
> nowhere could
> he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the
> green
> fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines
> towards the
> Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would
> ride up,
> and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the
> traffic
> went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then
> bending
> swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight.
> It was
> wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran a broad green
> ridingtrack,
> and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro,
> but
> all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going
> south. But
> soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were
> moving in
> three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great
> waggons with
> fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim
> of the
> road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
> 'That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the
> mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,' said Beregond. 'There
> go
> the last
> of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged the children, and the
> women
> that must go with them. They must all be gone from the Gate and the
> road clear
> for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad
> necessity.'
> He
> sighed. 'Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And
> there
> were
> always too few children in this city; but now there are none-save
> some young
> lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son
> is one of
> them.'
> They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if
> at
> any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields.
> 'What can I
> see there?' he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve
> of the
> Anduin. 'Is that another city, or what is it?'
> 'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which
> this
> was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either
> side
> of
> Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it
> back in the
> days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an
> outpost, and
> to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the
> Fell
> Riders out of Minas Morgul.'
> 'The Black Riders?' said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were
> wide
> and
> dark with an old fear re-awakened.
> 'Yes, they were black,' said Beregond, 'and I see that you know
> something
> of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.'
> 'I know of them,' said Pippin softly, 'but I will not speak of them
> now,
> so near, so near.' He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River,
> and it
> seemed to him that all he could see was a vast and threatening
> shadow. Perhaps
> it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges
> softened by
> wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a
> cloud-wall, and
> beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it
> seemed
> to his
> eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly
> rising to
> smother the regions of the sun.
> 'So near to Mordor?' said Beregond quietly. 'Yes, there it lies. We
> seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow:
> sometimes it
> seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is
> growing and
> darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the
> Fell
> Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many
> of
> our best
> men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back
> from
> this
> western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. For a
> little
> while. But we await now a new onslaught there. Maybe the chief
> onslaught of
> the war that comes.'
> 'When?' said Pippin. 'Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons last
> night
> and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war
> had begun.
> He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have
> slowed up
> again.'
> 'Only because everything is now ready,' said Beregond. 'It is but
> the
> deep breath before the plunge.'
> 'But why were the beacons lit last night?'
> 'It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,'
> answered
> Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his
> captains. They
> have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike
> other men:
> he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in
> the Tower
> at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read
> somewhat of the
> future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy,
> wrestling
> with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But
> however that
> may be, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous
> errand,
> and he may have sent tidings.
> 'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was
> the
> news that came yestereve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet
> drawing near
> to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the
> South. They
> have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied
> them with
> the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack
> will draw
> off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and
> Belfalas, where
> folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north
> to
> Rohan;
> and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you
> bring.
> 'And yet' – he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east,
> and
> south – 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught
> now
> in a
> great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords,
> raiding
> from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This
> is a great war
> long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may
> say.
> Things
> move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and
> north
> in
> Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be
> put to
> the test, to stand, or fall – under the Shadow.
> 'Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt
> of
> the
> chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the
> depths of
> time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall
> hardest.
> And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we
> fall, who
> shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall
> stand?'
> Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers
> and
> brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the
> gathering
> gloom in
> the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the
> orcs in
> the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of
> evil eye,
> and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and of the
> winged
> terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither.
> And even at that
> moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured, as though a
> dark wing
> had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught,
> high and far
> up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold.
> He
> blanched and cowered against the wall.
> 'What was that?' asked Beregond. 'You also felt something?'
> 'Yes,' muttered Pippin. 'It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow
> of
> doom, a Fell Rider of the air.'
> 'Yes, the shadow of doom,' said Beregond. 'I fear that Minas Tirith
> shall
> fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'
> For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak.
> Then
> suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and
> the
> banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. 'It is
> passed,' he
> said. 'No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has
> returned and is
> with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still
> upon our
> knees.'
> 'Rightly said!' cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro.
> 'Nay,
> though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall
> not perish
> yet. Not though the walls be taken by a reckless foe that will build
> a hill of
> carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret
> ways of
> escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some
> hidden
> valley where the grass is green.'
> 'All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill.' said Pippin. 'I
> am no
> warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the
> edge of
> one that I can't escape is worst of all. What a long day it seems
> already! I
> should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making
> no move,
> striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I
> think,
> but for Gandalf.'
> 'Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!' said
> Beregond. 'But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold,
> more bold
> than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a
> captain can
> be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and
> yet a man
> of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir.
> Less
> reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what
> indeed can he
> do? We cannot assault the mountains of – of yonder realm. Our reach
> is
> shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then
> our hand
> must be heavy!' He smote the hilt of his sword.
> Pippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that
> he
> had yet seen in that land; and with a glitter in his eye as he
> thought of the
> battle. 'Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,' he thought,
> but he
> said nothing. 'A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps but on the wrong
> chessboard.'
> So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the
> noonbells
> were rung, and there was a stir in the citadel; for all save the
> watchmen were going to their meal.
> 'Will you come with me?' said Beregond. 'You may join my mess for
> this
> day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord
> may hold
> you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well
> to meet
> as many men as you may, while there is yet time.'
> 'I shall be glad to come,' said Pippin. 'I am lonely, to tell you
> the
> truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one
> to talk to
> or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the
> captain?
> If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?'
> 'Nay, nay,' Beregond laughed, 'I am no captain. Neither office nor
> rank
> nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third
> Company of the
> Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard
> of the
> Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour
> in the
> land.'
> 'Then it is far beyond me,' said Pippin. 'Take me back to our room,
> and
> if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like – as your guest.'
> Gandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin
> went
> with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company.
> And
> it
> seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for
> Pippin was
> very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about
> Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and
> rumour
> declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to
> offer
> allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that
> when the
> Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling
> warrior, small
> maybe, but doughty.
> Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could
> not
> be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended
> by
> Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for
> coming
> among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and
> gave him as
> much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to
> be
> 'wary'
> according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag
> freely
> after the manner of a hobbit among friends.
> At length Beregond rose. 'Farewell for this time!' he said. 'I have
> duty
> now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you
> are lonely,
> as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My
> son
> would go
> with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down
> to the
> lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain,
> the
> Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that
> are
> remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the
> Great Gate
> ere the closing.'
> He went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was
> still
> fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so
> far
> southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless,
> and
> he
> decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that
> he had
> saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the
> horse seemed
> to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
> People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely
> courteous,
> saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands
> upon the
> breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors
> cried to
> others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the
> companion of
> Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but
> it was not
> long before he learned at least what was meant by _Ernil i
> Pheriannath_ and
> knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
> He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements
> to
> the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the
> Lampwrights'
> Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found
> the Old
> Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings
> running
> back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind
> which was
> the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared
> porch and
> a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the
> pillars,
> the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he
> stopped to look
> at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout
> he sprang
> across the grass and came into the street, followed by several
> others. There
> he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
> 'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a
> stranger in
> the City.'
> 'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
> 'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are
> you,
> and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be
> five
> feet. I
> am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the
> tallest. What is
> your father?'
> 'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms
> the
> lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly
> twenty-nine,
> so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to
> grow any
> more, save sideways.'
> 'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old!
> As
> old
> as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could
> stand you on
> your head or lay you on your back.'
> 'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And
> maybe
> I
> could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little
> country.
> Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong;
> and I
> have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a
> trial and
> nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are
> older,
> you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though
> you may
> have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn
> you:
> I am
> not,
This was one chapter of the lord of the rings - the return of the king!
Damn, my splendiferus comment got chopped off the end
Shame...
Shame...
kianul1000 wrote:
> The Lord of the Rings_
> _Chapter 1_
> Minas Tirith
> Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered if
> he
> was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which
> he had
> been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was
> rushing by
> and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the
> wheeling
> stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the
> mountains
> of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and
> stages of
> their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.
> There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and
> then
> in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to
> the silent
> town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they
> reached its
> shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men
> wilted with
> fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a
> corner,
> tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men
> talking and
> Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night.
> This was
> the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone. And
> with
> that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of the
> wind
> became filled with menacing voices.
> A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark
> barriers
> Pippin cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what
> dreadful country
> Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it
> was the
> moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So the
> night
> was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would go on. He
> stirred and
> spoke.
> 'Where are we, Gandalf?' he asked.
> 'In the realm of Gondor,' the wizard answered. 'The land of
> Anórien is
> still passing by.'
> There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried
> Pippin
> suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are
> there
> dragons in this land? Look, there is another!'
> For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadowfax! We must
> hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling
> for aid.
> War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame
> on Eilenach; and
> there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad,
> and the
> Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.'
> But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he
> lifted
> up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh
> of other
> horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and three
> riders
> swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into
> the West.
> Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the
> night flowed
> over him like a roaring wind.
> Pippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf
> telling
> him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had
> beacons built
> on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range,
> and
> maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in
> readiness
> to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in
> the South.
> 'It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,' he said; 'and
> in the
> ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven
> Stones.'
> Pippin stirred uneasily.
> 'Sleep again, and do not be afraid!' said Gandalf. 'For you are not
> going
> like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as
> safe as
> you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is
> taken, then
> the Shire will be no refuge.'
> 'You do not comfort me,' said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept
> over
> him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep dream
> was a
> glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above the
> clouds
> as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where
> Frodo was,
> and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not
> know that
> Frodo from far away looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor
> ere the
> coming of the day.
> Pippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a night
> of
> journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand
> again, and
> chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with
> sweat, but he
> held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men
> heavily
> cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall
> of stone.
> Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed the
> sound of
> hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels, and
> the
> creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and there in
> the fog.
> Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he
> listened Pippin
> became aware that he himself was being discussed.
> 'Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the men,
> 'and
> you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go
> forward. But we
> do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains
> in the
> North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless they
> be
> mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'
> 'I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,' said Gandalf.
> 'And as
> for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed through
> more
> battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his
> height; and
> he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear tidings,
> and
> great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is Peregrin,
> a very
> valiant man.'
> 'Man?' said Ingold dubiously; and the others laughed.
> 'Man!' cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. 'Man! Indeed not! I am a
> hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and
> again by
> necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!'
> 'Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,' said Ingold. 'But
> what is
> a hobbit?'
> 'A Halfling,' answered Gandalf. 'Nay, not the one that was spoken
> of,' he
> added seeing the wonder in the men's faces. 'Not he, yet one of his
> kindred.'
> 'Yes, and one who journeyed with him,' said Pippin. 'And Boromir of
> your
> City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at
> the last
> he was slain defending me from many foes.'
> 'Peace!' said Gandalf. 'The news of that grief should have been told
> first to the father.'
> 'It has been guessed already,' said Ingold; 'for there have been
> strange
> portents here of late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of Minas
> Tirith
> will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be
> he man
> or-'
> 'Hobbit,' said Pippin. 'Little service can I offer to your lord, but
> what
> I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.'
> 'Fare you well!' said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadow fax,
> and he
> passed through a narrow gate in the wall. 'May you bring good counsel
> to
> Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!' Ingold cried. 'But
> you come
> with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.'
> 'Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,' answered
> Gandalf.
> 'And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in
> repairing
> the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence
> against the
> storm that is at hand – that and such hope as I bring. For not all
> the tidings
> that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your
> swords!'
> 'The work will be finished ere evening,' said Ingold. 'This is the
> last
> portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack,
> for it
> looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will
> they
> answer the summons, think you?'
> 'Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your
> back.
> This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant!
> But for
> Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of
> Anórien and
> no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!'
> Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So the
> men
> of Gondor called the out wall that they had built with great labour,
> after
> Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or
> more it ran
> from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence
> the fields
> of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and
> terraces
> falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from
> the Great
> Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant,
> and there
> from a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river,
> and men
> had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled
> causeway, the
> road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed
> through a
> guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall
> was
> little more than one league from the City, and that was
> south-eastward. There
> Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South
> Ithilien,
> bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and
> beneath it
> lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came
> upstream from
> the southern fiefs.
> The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and
> homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many
> rills
> rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet the
> herdsmen
> and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of
> the people
> of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high
> vales of the
> mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin
> with its
> five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains
> and the
> sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled,
> and there
> were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from
> the
> forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark Years
> ere the
> coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas, dwelt
> Prince
> Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high
> blood, and
> his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.
> Now after Gandalf had ridden for some time the light of day grew in
> the
> sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea
> of mist,
> rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great
> mountains reared
> their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if
> in the
> making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier,
> carving out a
> mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come. And
> there
> where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw,
> as Gandalf
> had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple
> shadows of
> its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And
> upon its
> out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone
> so strong
> and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants
> out of
> the bones of the earth.
> Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to
> white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed
> over the
> eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the
> City. Then
> Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within
> the
> topmost walls' shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of
> pearl and
> silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if
> it were
> wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the
> battlements in the morning breeze' and high and far he heard a clear
> ringing
> as of silver trumpets.
> So Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor
> at
> the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.
> 'Mithrandir! Mithrandir!' men cried. 'Now we know that the storm is
> indeed nigh!'
> 'It is upon you,' said Gandalf. 'I have ridden on its wings. Let me
> pass!
> I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts.
> Whatever
> betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known.
> Let me
> pass!'
> Then men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned him
> no
> further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before
> him and at
> the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very
> little
> and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden by
> the
> errand-riders of their lord. And they said: 'Surely that is one of
> the great
> steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to
> strengthen
> us.' But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road.
> For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven
> levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and
> in each
> wall was a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great Gate
> in the
> City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced
> half south,
> and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the
> paved way
> that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that
> across
> the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the
> Great Gate
> it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose
> huge outthrust
> bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For
> partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty
> craft and
> labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind
> the Gate
> a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing
> east. Up it
> rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned
> by a
> battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a
> mountainous
> ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet
> below.
> The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in
> the heart
> of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh gate.
> Thus men
> reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before
> the feet
> of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to
> the
> pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet
> above the
> plain.
> A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of
> enemies,
> if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe
> could come
> behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon the
> narrow
> shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But
> that
> shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged with
> great
> ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end; and
> in that
> space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords, for
> ever
> silent between the mountain and the tower.
> Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and
> more
> splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger
> than
> Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year by
> year
> into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt
> at ease
> there. In every street they passed some great house or court over
> whose doors
> and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and ancient
> shapes:
> names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt
> there; and
> yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide
> pavements, nor
> voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or
> empty
> window.
> At last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm
> sun
> that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of
> Ithilien,
> glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great
> arch with
> keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head.
> Gandalf
> dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax
> suffered
> himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.
> The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of
> strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to
> the face,
> and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds; but
> the
> helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought
> of
> _mithril_, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black
> surcoats were
> embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver
> crown and
> many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and
> none wore
> it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court
> of the
> Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
> Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them: and
> at
> once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly
> Gandalf
> strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played there in
> the
> morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the
> midst.
> drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops
> dripped sadly
> from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.
> Pippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked mournful,
> he
> thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place
> where
> everything else was well tended.
> _Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree._
> The words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And then
> he
> found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming
> tower; and
> behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered
> the cool
> echoing shadows of the house of stone.
> They walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went
> Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. 'Be careful of your words, Master
> Peregrin!
> This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old
> man. Denethor is
> of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and
> power,
> though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and
> question
> you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him
> greatly: too
> much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But under
> cover of
> this love he will think it easier to learn what he witches from you
> rather
> than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet the
> matter
> of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say nothing
> about
> Aragorn either, unless you must.'
> 'Why not? What is wrong with Strider?' Pippin whispered. 'He meant
> to
> come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself anyway.'
> 'Maybe, maybe,' said Gandalf. 'Though if he comes, it is likely to be
> in
> some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better
> so. At
> least he should come unheralded by us.'
> Gandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. 'See, Master
> Pippin,
> there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor; though
> it might
> have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were
> still
> birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as I
> bid! It is
> scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a
> mighty lord
> to speak over much of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim
> the
> kingship. Is that enough?'
> 'Kingship?' said Pippin amazed.
> 'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed
> ears
> and mind asleep, wake up now!' He knocked on the door.
> The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked
> into
> a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at either
> side,
> beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of
> black
> marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of
> beasts
> and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with
> dull gold,
> inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor storied
> webs,
> nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that
> long solemn
> hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall
> images
> graven in cold stone.
> Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe
> fell
> on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far
> end upon
> a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble
> shaped
> like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with
> gems an
> image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of
> the dais,
> upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone
> chair, black
> and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his
> hand was a
> white rod with a golden knob. He did not look up. Solemnly they paced
> the long
> floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool.
> Then
> Gandalf spoke.
> 'Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I
> am
> come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.'
> Then the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its
> proud
> bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark
> deep
> eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn. 'Dark
> indeed
> is the hour,' said the old man, 'and at such times you are wont to
> come,
> Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of Gondor
> is
> drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness.
> It has
> been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is
> this he?'
> 'It is,' said Gandalf. 'One of the twain. The other is with
> Théoden of
> Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet
> this is not
> he of whom the omens spoke.'
> 'Yet a Halfling still,' said Denethor grimly, 'and little love do I
> bear
> the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels and
> drew
> away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have
> need of
> you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.'
> 'He would have gone,' said Gandalf. 'Be not unjust in your grief!
> Boromir
> claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was
> a
> masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with
> him and
> learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had
> news of
> that ere we came?'
> 'I have received this,' said Denethor, and laying down his rod he
> lifted
> from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he
> held up one
> half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound
> with
> silver.
> 'That is the horn that Boromir always wore!' cried Pippin.
> 'Verily,' said Denethor. 'And in my turn I bore it, and so did each
> eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the
> failing
> of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine of
> Araw in
> the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the
> northern marches
> thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will
> wind no
> more.' He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned
> his black
> glance upon Pippin. 'What say you to that, Halfling?'
> 'Thirteen, thirteen days,' faltered Pippin. 'Yes, I think that would
> be
> so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came.
> Only more
> orcs.'
> 'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were
> there?
> Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet
> he did
> not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?'
> Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. 'The mightiest man may be slain
> by
> one arrow,' he said; 'and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I
> saw him he
> sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his side.
> Then I
> swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more.
> But I
> honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my
> kinsman
> Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the Dark
> Lord;
> and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.'
> Then Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred
> strangely
> within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold
> voice. 'Little
> service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a
> hobbit, a
> halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it,
> in
> payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew
> forth his
> small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.
> A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed
> over
> the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand,
> laying the
> shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said.
> Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?'
> said
> Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought
> by our
> own kindred in the North in the deep past?'
> 'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country '
> said
> Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not
> willingly tell
> more of them.'
> 'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and
> once
> again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I
> accept
> your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have
> courteous speech,
> strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we
> shall have
> need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to
> come.
> Swear to me now!'
> 'Take the hilt,' said Gandalf, 'and speak after the Lord, if you are
> resolved on this.'
> 'I am,' said Pippin.
> The old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to
> the
> hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:
> 'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and
> Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be,
> to come
> and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying,
> from this
> hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the
> world end.
> So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'
> And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor,
> Steward of
> the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that
> which is
> given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with
> vengeance.'
> Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.
> 'And now,' said Denethor, 'my first command to you: speak and be not
> silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you
> can of
> Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!' As he spoke he struck a small
> silver gong
> that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward.
> Pippin saw
> then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the
> door, unseen
> as he and Gandalf entered.
> 'Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,' said Denethor, 'and
> see
> that none trouble us for one hour.'
> 'It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,' he
> said
> to Gandalf. 'Much of more import, it may seem, and yet to me less
> pressing.
> But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.'
> 'And earlier, it is to be hoped,' said Gandalf. 'For I have not
> ridden
> hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed
> of wind,
> only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught
> to you
> that Théoden has fought a great battle and that Isengard is
> overthrown, and
> that I have broken the staff of Saruman?'
> 'It is much to me. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for
> my
> own counsel against the menace of the East.' He turned his dark eyes
> on
> Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt
> the strain
> between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn
> from eye
> to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.
> Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf
> did,
> more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other
> than
> sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the
> deeper
> wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.
> 'How much
> older?' he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had
> never
> thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards,
> but even
> then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf?
> In what
> far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he
> leave it? And
> then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf
> still looked
> each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was
> Denethor who
> first withdrew his gaze.
> 'Yea,' he said; 'for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the
> lords
> of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come
> to them.
> But sit now!'
> Then men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a
> salver
> with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but
> he could
> not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only
> imagined it,
> that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced
> upon
> Pippin's face?
> 'Now tell me your tale, my liege,' said Denethor, half kindly; half
> mockingly. 'For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be
> welcome
> indeed.'
> Pippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing
> eye of
> the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions,
> and all the
> while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and
> (so Pippin
> felt) holding in check a rising wrath and impatience. When the hour
> was over
> and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. 'It cannot be
> more
> than nine o'clock,' he thought. 'I could now eat three breakfasts on
> end.'
> 'Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,' said
> Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if
> he will.
> But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he shall
> be known
> as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send
> word to the
> Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after the
> third
> hour has rung.
> 'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will.
> None
> shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief
> hours of
> sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return
> to my
> comfort!'
> 'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will
> die.
> You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not
> understand
> your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least,
> while I sit
> by?'
> 'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride
> would
> be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out
> such gifts
> according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be
> made the
> tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no
> purpose
> higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the
> rule of
> Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should
> come
> again.'
> 'Unless the king should come again?' said Gandalf. 'Well, my lord
> Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that
> event, which
> few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that you
> are
> pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is
> mine, neither
> of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that
> are in
> peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I
> shall not
> wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything
> passes
> through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower
> again in
> days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?' And with
> that he
> turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.
> Gandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went.
> Their
> guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them
> across the
> Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone.
> After
> several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel
> upon the
> north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the
> mountain.
> Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven
> stair, he
> showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of
> dull gold
> sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table,
> two
> chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves
> and wellclad
> beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three
> high
> narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin,
> still
> shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros far away. Pippin
> had to
> climb on the bench to look out over the deep stone sill.
> 'Are you angry with me, Gandalf?' he said, as their guide went out
> and
> closed the door. 'I did the best I could.'
> 'You did indeed!' said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and
> stood
> beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders and
> gazing out of
> the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close
> beside his
> own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the
> wizard's
> face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he
> looked more
> intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a
> fountain of
> mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.
> 'Indeed you did your best,' said the wizard; 'and I hope that it may
> be
> long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between
> two such
> terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you than
> you may
> have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did
> not lead
> the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high
> honour who
> was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men think
> much
> about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long
> thought
> to the rhyme and to the words _Isildur's Bane_, since Boromir went
> away.
> 'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his
> descent
> from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs
> nearly true
> in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in
> Boromir whom
> he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his
> will
> thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those
> that dwell
> far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.
> 'Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know
> what
> put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well
> done. I did
> not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold
> counsel. It
> touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour. And
> at least
> you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith – when you
> are not
> on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command; and
> he will
> not forget. Be wary still!'
> He fell silent and sighed. 'Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow
> may
> bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than
> today, for
> many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help
> it. The
> board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly
> desire to
> find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is
> in the
> City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go. Pippin. I
> must go to
> this lords' council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the move,
> and he
> is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much
> of it as
> any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your
> blade!'
> Gandalf went to the door, and there he turned. 'I am in haste
> Pippin,' he
> said. 'Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you
> are not
> too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These
> people are
> kindly to beasts, for they are a good and wise folk, but they have
> less skill
> with horses than some.'
> With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of
> a
> clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel. Three strokes it
> rang,
> like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising of
> the sun.
> After a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked
> about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the
> towers and
> tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue
> air Mount
> Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to
> and fro in
> the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to
> changes of
> post and duty.
> 'Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,' said Pippin aloud to
> himself.
> 'Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring
> sunshine. And
> how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it
> over? And
> when do they have dinner, and where?'
> Presently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along
> the
> narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin felt
> lonely
> and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need.
> The man
> came straight up to him.
> 'You are Peregrin the Halfling?' he said. 'I am told that you have
> been
> sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome! He held
> out his
> hand and Pippin took it.
> 'I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning, and
> I
> have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you
> some of the
> many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I
> would
> learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this
> land and
> though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any
> tale that
> we know. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him
> well?'
> 'Well,' said Pippin. 'I have known _of_ him all my short life, as
> you
> might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is
> much to read
> in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or
> two. Yet
> perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only one
> of our
> Company, I think, who really knew him.'
> 'Aragorn?' said Beregond. 'Who is he?'
> 'Oh,' stammered Pippin, 'he was a man who went about with us. I think
> he
> is in Rohan now.'
> 'You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you
> of
> that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its
> people. But
> I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would
> ask. What
> would you know, Master Peregrin?'
> 'Er well,' said Pippin, 'if I may venture to say so, rather a
> burning
> question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and all
> that? I
> mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is the
> diningroom,
> if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see
> as
> we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of
> ale as soon
> as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.'
> Beregond looked at him gravely. 'An old campaigner, I see,' he said.
> 'They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope
> of food
> and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have
> not yet
> eaten today?'
> 'Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,' said Pippin. 'But no more
> than a
> cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord; but
> he
> racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry
> work.'
> Beregond laughed. 'At the table small men may do the greater deeds,
> we
> say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the Citadel,
> and with
> greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now in
> posture
> of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light, and
> go to
> our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!' He laughed
> again, seeing
> the dismay in Pippin's face. 'Those who have had heavy duty take
> somewhat to
> refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the
> nuncheon, at noon
> or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such
> mirth as
> there still may be, about the hour of sunset.
> 'Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment,
> and
> eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.'
> 'One moment!' said Pippin blushing. 'Greed, or hunger by your
> courtesy,
> put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him, asked
> me to
> see to his horse – Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple
> of the
> king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his
> services.
> I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many men,
> and if
> his good will is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax
> with all
> honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if
> it is
> possible.'
> 'Hobbit?' said Beregond.
> 'That is what we call ourselves,' said Pippin.
> 'I am glad to learn it,' said Beregond, 'for now I may say that
> strange
> accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits are a fair-spoken folk.
> But come!
> You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts, and
> we see
> them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the
> mountain-vales,
> and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be
> short, a mere
> call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.'
> Pippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in
> the
> sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair
> stables
> where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the
> errand-riders
> of the Lord: messengers always ready to go at the urgent command of
> Denethor
> or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were out
> and
> away.
> Shadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head.
> 'Good morning!' said Pippin. 'Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He
> is busy,
> but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you;
> and you
> resting, I hope, after your long labours.'
> Shadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to
> handle
> his head gently and stroke his great flanks.
> 'He looks as if he were spoiling for a race, and not newly come from
> a
> great journey,' said Beregond. 'How strong and proud he is! Where is
> his
> harness? It should be rich and fair.'
> 'None is rich and fair enough for him,' said Pippin. 'He will have
> none.
> If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well,
> no bit,
> bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have
> patience.
> Battle is coming.'
> Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook,
> and
> they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the
> manger
> was well filled.
> 'And now for our manger,' said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to
> the
> citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower. There
> they
> went down a long cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There
> were
> hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.
> 'This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard.'
> said
> Beregond. 'Greetings, Targon!' he called through the hatch. 'It is
> early yet,
> but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He
> has ridden
> long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this morning,
> and he
> is hungry. Give us what you have!'
> They got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of
> the
> winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of
> new-drawn
> ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket
> and
> climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at
> the east
> end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure
> in the
> walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could look
> out on
> the morning over the world.
> They ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and
> customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had
> seen. And
> ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with greater
> wonder
> at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or
> standing
> tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below.
> 'I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,' said Beregond, 'that to
> us
> you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so;
> and yet
> you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards
> could
> boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble
> page,
> after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is
> not so,
> and you must pardon my foolishness.'
> 'I do,' said Pippin. 'Though you are not far wrong. I am still
> little
> more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be
> four years
> yet before I "come of age", as we say in the Shire: But do
> not bother about
> me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.'
> The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been
> drawn
> up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of
> white
> cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now
> flapping and
> tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in
> the valleybottom,
> five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be
> seen
> grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a
> mighty
> sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and
> shimmer,
> far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
> Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into
> the
> distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but
> nowhere could
> he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the
> green
> fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines
> towards the
> Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would
> ride up,
> and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the
> traffic
> went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then
> bending
> swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight.
> It was
> wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran a broad green
> ridingtrack,
> and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro,
> but
> all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going
> south. But
> soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were
> moving in
> three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great
> waggons with
> fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim
> of the
> road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
> 'That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the
> mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,' said Beregond. 'There go
> the last
> of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged the children, and the
> women
> that must go with them. They must all be gone from the Gate and the
> road clear
> for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad necessity.'
> He
> sighed. 'Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And there
> were
> always too few children in this city; but now there are none-save
> some young
> lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son
> is one of
> them.'
> They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if
> at
> any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields.
> 'What can I
> see there?' he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve
> of the
> Anduin. 'Is that another city, or what is it?'
> 'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which
> this
> was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side
> of
> Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it
> back in the
> days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an
> outpost, and
> to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the
> Fell
> Riders out of Minas Morgul.'
> 'The Black Riders?' said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were wide
> and
> dark with an old fear re-awakened.
> 'Yes, they were black,' said Beregond, 'and I see that you know
> something
> of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.'
> 'I know of them,' said Pippin softly, 'but I will not speak of them
> now,
> so near, so near.' He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River,
> and it
> seemed to him that all he could see was a vast and threatening
> shadow. Perhaps
> it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges
> softened by
> wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a
> cloud-wall, and
> beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it seemed
> to his
> eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly
> rising to
> smother the regions of the sun.
> 'So near to Mordor?' said Beregond quietly. 'Yes, there it lies. We
> seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow:
> sometimes it
> seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is
> growing and
> darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the
> Fell
> Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many of
> our best
> men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back from
> this
> western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. For a
> little
> while. But we await now a new onslaught there. Maybe the chief
> onslaught of
> the war that comes.'
> 'When?' said Pippin. 'Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons last
> night
> and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war
> had begun.
> He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have
> slowed up
> again.'
> 'Only because everything is now ready,' said Beregond. 'It is but
> the
> deep breath before the plunge.'
> 'But why were the beacons lit last night?'
> 'It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,'
> answered
> Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his
> captains. They
> have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike
> other men:
> he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in
> the Tower
> at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read
> somewhat of the
> future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy,
> wrestling
> with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But
> however that
> may be, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous
> errand,
> and he may have sent tidings.
> 'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was
> the
> news that came yestereve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet
> drawing near
> to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the
> South. They
> have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied
> them with
> the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack
> will draw
> off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and
> Belfalas, where
> folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north to
> Rohan;
> and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you
> bring.
> 'And yet' – he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east,
> and
> south – 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now
> in a
> great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords,
> raiding
> from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This
> is a great war
> long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say.
> Things
> move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and north
> in
> Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be
> put to
> the test, to stand, or fall – under the Shadow.
> 'Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt of
> the
> chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the
> depths of
> time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall
> hardest.
> And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we
> fall, who
> shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall
> stand?'
> Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers
> and
> brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the gathering
> gloom in
> the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the
> orcs in
> the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of
> evil eye,
> and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and of the
> winged
> terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither.
> And even at that
> moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured, as though a
> dark wing
> had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught,
> high and far
> up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold.
> He
> blanched and cowered against the wall.
> 'What was that?' asked Beregond. 'You also felt something?'
> 'Yes,' muttered Pippin. 'It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow
> of
> doom, a Fell Rider of the air.'
> 'Yes, the shadow of doom,' said Beregond. 'I fear that Minas Tirith
> shall
> fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'
> For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak.
> Then
> suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and
> the
> banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. 'It is
> passed,' he
> said. 'No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has
> returned and is
> with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still
> upon our
> knees.'
> 'Rightly said!' cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro.
> 'Nay,
> though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall
> not perish
> yet. Not though the walls be taken by a reckless foe that will build
> a hill of
> carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret
> ways of
> escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some
> hidden
> valley where the grass is green.'
> 'All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill.' said Pippin. 'I
> am no
> warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the
> edge of
> one that I can't escape is worst of all. What a long day it seems
> already! I
> should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making
> no move,
> striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I
> think,
> but for Gandalf.'
> 'Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!' said
> Beregond. 'But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold,
> more bold
> than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a
> captain can
> be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and
> yet a man
> of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir.
> Less
> reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what
> indeed can he
> do? We cannot assault the mountains of – of yonder realm. Our reach
> is
> shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then
> our hand
> must be heavy!' He smote the hilt of his sword.
> Pippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that
> he
> had yet seen in that land; and with a glitter in his eye as he
> thought of the
> battle. 'Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,' he thought,
> but he
> said nothing. 'A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps but on the wrong
> chessboard.'
> So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the
> noonbells
> were rung, and there was a stir in the citadel; for all save the
> watchmen were going to their meal.
> 'Will you come with me?' said Beregond. 'You may join my mess for
> this
> day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord
> may hold
> you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well
> to meet
> as many men as you may, while there is yet time.'
> 'I shall be glad to come,' said Pippin. 'I am lonely, to tell you
> the
> truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one
> to talk to
> or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the
> captain?
> If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?'
> 'Nay, nay,' Beregond laughed, 'I am no captain. Neither office nor
> rank
> nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third
> Company of the
> Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard
> of the
> Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour
> in the
> land.'
> 'Then it is far beyond me,' said Pippin. 'Take me back to our room,
> and
> if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like – as your guest.'
> Gandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin
> went
> with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company. And
> it
> seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for
> Pippin was
> very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about
> Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and
> rumour
> declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to
> offer
> allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that
> when the
> Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling
> warrior, small
> maybe, but doughty.
> Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could
> not
> be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended
> by
> Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for
> coming
> among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and
> gave him as
> much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to be
> 'wary'
> according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag
> freely
> after the manner of a hobbit among friends.
> At length Beregond rose. 'Farewell for this time!' he said. 'I have
> duty
> now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you
> are lonely,
> as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My son
> would go
> with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down
> to the
> lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain,
> the
> Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that
> are
> remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the
> Great Gate
> ere the closing.'
> He went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was
> still
> fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so
> far
> southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless, and
> he
> decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that
> he had
> saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the
> horse seemed
> to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
> People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely
> courteous,
> saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands
> upon the
> breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors
> cried to
> others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the
> companion of
> Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but
> it was not
> long before he learned at least what was meant by _Ernil i
> Pheriannath_ and
> knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
> He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements
> to
> the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the
> Lampwrights'
> Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found
> the Old
> Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings
> running
> back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind
> which was
> the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared
> porch and
> a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the
> pillars,
> the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he
> stopped to look
> at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout
> he sprang
> across the grass and came into the street, followed by several
> others. There
> he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
> 'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a
> stranger in
> the City.'
> 'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
> 'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are
> you,
> and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be five
> feet. I
> am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the
> tallest. What is
> your father?'
> 'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms
> the
> lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly
> twenty-nine,
> so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to
> grow any
> more, save sideways.'
> 'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old! As
> old
> as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could
> stand you on
> your head or lay you on your back.'
> 'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And maybe
> I
> could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little
> country.
> Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong;
> and I
> have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a
> trial and
> nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are
> older,
> you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though
> you may
> have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you:
> I am
> not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!' Pippin pulled such a
> grim face
> that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with
> clenched fists
> and the light of battle in his eye.
> 'No!' Pippin laughed. 'Don't believe what strangers say of
> themselves
> either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for
> the
> The Lord of the Rings_
> _Chapter 1_
> Minas Tirith
> Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered if
> he
> was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which
> he had
> been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was
> rushing by
> and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the
> wheeling
> stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the
> mountains
> of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and
> stages of
> their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.
> There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and
> then
> in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to
> the silent
> town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they
> reached its
> shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men
> wilted with
> fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a
> corner,
> tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men
> talking and
> Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night.
> This was
> the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone. And
> with
> that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of the
> wind
> became filled with menacing voices.
> A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark
> barriers
> Pippin cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what
> dreadful country
> Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it
> was the
> moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So the
> night
> was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would go on. He
> stirred and
> spoke.
> 'Where are we, Gandalf?' he asked.
> 'In the realm of Gondor,' the wizard answered. 'The land of
> Anórien is
> still passing by.'
> There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried
> Pippin
> suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are
> there
> dragons in this land? Look, there is another!'
> For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadowfax! We must
> hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling
> for aid.
> War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame
> on Eilenach; and
> there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad,
> and the
> Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.'
> But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he
> lifted
> up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh
> of other
> horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and three
> riders
> swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into
> the West.
> Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the
> night flowed
> over him like a roaring wind.
> Pippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf
> telling
> him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had
> beacons built
> on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range,
> and
> maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in
> readiness
> to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in
> the South.
> 'It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,' he said; 'and
> in the
> ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven
> Stones.'
> Pippin stirred uneasily.
> 'Sleep again, and do not be afraid!' said Gandalf. 'For you are not
> going
> like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as
> safe as
> you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is
> taken, then
> the Shire will be no refuge.'
> 'You do not comfort me,' said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept
> over
> him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep dream
> was a
> glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above the
> clouds
> as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where
> Frodo was,
> and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not
> know that
> Frodo from far away looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor
> ere the
> coming of the day.
> Pippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a night
> of
> journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand
> again, and
> chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with
> sweat, but he
> held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men
> heavily
> cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall
> of stone.
> Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed the
> sound of
> hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels, and
> the
> creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and there in
> the fog.
> Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he
> listened Pippin
> became aware that he himself was being discussed.
> 'Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the men,
> 'and
> you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go
> forward. But we
> do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains
> in the
> North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless they
> be
> mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'
> 'I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,' said Gandalf.
> 'And as
> for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed through
> more
> battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his
> height; and
> he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear tidings,
> and
> great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is Peregrin,
> a very
> valiant man.'
> 'Man?' said Ingold dubiously; and the others laughed.
> 'Man!' cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. 'Man! Indeed not! I am a
> hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and
> again by
> necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!'
> 'Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,' said Ingold. 'But
> what is
> a hobbit?'
> 'A Halfling,' answered Gandalf. 'Nay, not the one that was spoken
> of,' he
> added seeing the wonder in the men's faces. 'Not he, yet one of his
> kindred.'
> 'Yes, and one who journeyed with him,' said Pippin. 'And Boromir of
> your
> City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at
> the last
> he was slain defending me from many foes.'
> 'Peace!' said Gandalf. 'The news of that grief should have been told
> first to the father.'
> 'It has been guessed already,' said Ingold; 'for there have been
> strange
> portents here of late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of Minas
> Tirith
> will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be
> he man
> or-'
> 'Hobbit,' said Pippin. 'Little service can I offer to your lord, but
> what
> I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.'
> 'Fare you well!' said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadow fax,
> and he
> passed through a narrow gate in the wall. 'May you bring good counsel
> to
> Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!' Ingold cried. 'But
> you come
> with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.'
> 'Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,' answered
> Gandalf.
> 'And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in
> repairing
> the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence
> against the
> storm that is at hand – that and such hope as I bring. For not all
> the tidings
> that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your
> swords!'
> 'The work will be finished ere evening,' said Ingold. 'This is the
> last
> portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack,
> for it
> looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will
> they
> answer the summons, think you?'
> 'Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your
> back.
> This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant!
> But for
> Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of
> Anórien and
> no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!'
> Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So the
> men
> of Gondor called the out wall that they had built with great labour,
> after
> Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or
> more it ran
> from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence
> the fields
> of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and
> terraces
> falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from
> the Great
> Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant,
> and there
> from a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river,
> and men
> had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled
> causeway, the
> road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed
> through a
> guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall
> was
> little more than one league from the City, and that was
> south-eastward. There
> Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South
> Ithilien,
> bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and
> beneath it
> lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came
> upstream from
> the southern fiefs.
> The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and
> homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many
> rills
> rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet the
> herdsmen
> and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of
> the people
> of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high
> vales of the
> mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin
> with its
> five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains
> and the
> sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled,
> and there
> were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from
> the
> forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark Years
> ere the
> coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas, dwelt
> Prince
> Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high
> blood, and
> his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.
> Now after Gandalf had ridden for some time the light of day grew in
> the
> sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea
> of mist,
> rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great
> mountains reared
> their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if
> in the
> making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier,
> carving out a
> mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come. And
> there
> where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw,
> as Gandalf
> had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple
> shadows of
> its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And
> upon its
> out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone
> so strong
> and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants
> out of
> the bones of the earth.
> Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to
> white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed
> over the
> eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the
> City. Then
> Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within
> the
> topmost walls' shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of
> pearl and
> silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if
> it were
> wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the
> battlements in the morning breeze' and high and far he heard a clear
> ringing
> as of silver trumpets.
> So Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor
> at
> the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.
> 'Mithrandir! Mithrandir!' men cried. 'Now we know that the storm is
> indeed nigh!'
> 'It is upon you,' said Gandalf. 'I have ridden on its wings. Let me
> pass!
> I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts.
> Whatever
> betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known.
> Let me
> pass!'
> Then men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned him
> no
> further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before
> him and at
> the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very
> little
> and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden by
> the
> errand-riders of their lord. And they said: 'Surely that is one of
> the great
> steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to
> strengthen
> us.' But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road.
> For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven
> levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and
> in each
> wall was a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great Gate
> in the
> City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced
> half south,
> and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the
> paved way
> that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that
> across
> the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the
> Great Gate
> it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose
> huge outthrust
> bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For
> partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty
> craft and
> labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind
> the Gate
> a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing
> east. Up it
> rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned
> by a
> battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a
> mountainous
> ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet
> below.
> The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in
> the heart
> of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh gate.
> Thus men
> reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before
> the feet
> of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to
> the
> pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet
> above the
> plain.
> A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of
> enemies,
> if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe
> could come
> behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon the
> narrow
> shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But
> that
> shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged with
> great
> ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end; and
> in that
> space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords, for
> ever
> silent between the mountain and the tower.
> Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and
> more
> splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger
> than
> Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year by
> year
> into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt
> at ease
> there. In every street they passed some great house or court over
> whose doors
> and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and ancient
> shapes:
> names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt
> there; and
> yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide
> pavements, nor
> voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or
> empty
> window.
> At last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm
> sun
> that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of
> Ithilien,
> glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great
> arch with
> keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head.
> Gandalf
> dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax
> suffered
> himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.
> The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of
> strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to
> the face,
> and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds; but
> the
> helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought
> of
> _mithril_, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black
> surcoats were
> embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver
> crown and
> many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and
> none wore
> it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court
> of the
> Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
> Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them: and
> at
> once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly
> Gandalf
> strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played there in
> the
> morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the
> midst.
> drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops
> dripped sadly
> from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.
> Pippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked mournful,
> he
> thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place
> where
> everything else was well tended.
> _Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree._
> The words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And then
> he
> found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming
> tower; and
> behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered
> the cool
> echoing shadows of the house of stone.
> They walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went
> Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. 'Be careful of your words, Master
> Peregrin!
> This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old
> man. Denethor is
> of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and
> power,
> though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and
> question
> you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him
> greatly: too
> much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But under
> cover of
> this love he will think it easier to learn what he witches from you
> rather
> than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet the
> matter
> of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say nothing
> about
> Aragorn either, unless you must.'
> 'Why not? What is wrong with Strider?' Pippin whispered. 'He meant
> to
> come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself anyway.'
> 'Maybe, maybe,' said Gandalf. 'Though if he comes, it is likely to be
> in
> some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better
> so. At
> least he should come unheralded by us.'
> Gandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. 'See, Master
> Pippin,
> there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor; though
> it might
> have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were
> still
> birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as I
> bid! It is
> scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a
> mighty lord
> to speak over much of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim
> the
> kingship. Is that enough?'
> 'Kingship?' said Pippin amazed.
> 'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed
> ears
> and mind asleep, wake up now!' He knocked on the door.
> The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked
> into
> a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at either
> side,
> beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of
> black
> marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of
> beasts
> and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with
> dull gold,
> inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor storied
> webs,
> nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that
> long solemn
> hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall
> images
> graven in cold stone.
> Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe
> fell
> on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far
> end upon
> a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble
> shaped
> like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with
> gems an
> image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of
> the dais,
> upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone
> chair, black
> and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his
> hand was a
> white rod with a golden knob. He did not look up. Solemnly they paced
> the long
> floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool.
> Then
> Gandalf spoke.
> 'Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I
> am
> come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.'
> Then the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its
> proud
> bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark
> deep
> eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn. 'Dark
> indeed
> is the hour,' said the old man, 'and at such times you are wont to
> come,
> Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of Gondor
> is
> drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness.
> It has
> been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is
> this he?'
> 'It is,' said Gandalf. 'One of the twain. The other is with
> Théoden of
> Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet
> this is not
> he of whom the omens spoke.'
> 'Yet a Halfling still,' said Denethor grimly, 'and little love do I
> bear
> the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels and
> drew
> away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have
> need of
> you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.'
> 'He would have gone,' said Gandalf. 'Be not unjust in your grief!
> Boromir
> claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was
> a
> masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with
> him and
> learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had
> news of
> that ere we came?'
> 'I have received this,' said Denethor, and laying down his rod he
> lifted
> from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he
> held up one
> half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound
> with
> silver.
> 'That is the horn that Boromir always wore!' cried Pippin.
> 'Verily,' said Denethor. 'And in my turn I bore it, and so did each
> eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the
> failing
> of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine of
> Araw in
> the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the
> northern marches
> thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will
> wind no
> more.' He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned
> his black
> glance upon Pippin. 'What say you to that, Halfling?'
> 'Thirteen, thirteen days,' faltered Pippin. 'Yes, I think that would
> be
> so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came.
> Only more
> orcs.'
> 'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were
> there?
> Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet
> he did
> not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?'
> Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. 'The mightiest man may be slain
> by
> one arrow,' he said; 'and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I
> saw him he
> sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his side.
> Then I
> swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more.
> But I
> honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my
> kinsman
> Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the Dark
> Lord;
> and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.'
> Then Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred
> strangely
> within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold
> voice. 'Little
> service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a
> hobbit, a
> halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it,
> in
> payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew
> forth his
> small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.
> A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed
> over
> the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand,
> laying the
> shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said.
> Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?'
> said
> Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought
> by our
> own kindred in the North in the deep past?'
> 'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country '
> said
> Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not
> willingly tell
> more of them.'
> 'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and
> once
> again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I
> accept
> your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have
> courteous speech,
> strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we
> shall have
> need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to
> come.
> Swear to me now!'
> 'Take the hilt,' said Gandalf, 'and speak after the Lord, if you are
> resolved on this.'
> 'I am,' said Pippin.
> The old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to
> the
> hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:
> 'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and
> Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be,
> to come
> and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying,
> from this
> hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the
> world end.
> So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'
> And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor,
> Steward of
> the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that
> which is
> given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with
> vengeance.'
> Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.
> 'And now,' said Denethor, 'my first command to you: speak and be not
> silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you
> can of
> Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!' As he spoke he struck a small
> silver gong
> that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward.
> Pippin saw
> then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the
> door, unseen
> as he and Gandalf entered.
> 'Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,' said Denethor, 'and
> see
> that none trouble us for one hour.'
> 'It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,' he
> said
> to Gandalf. 'Much of more import, it may seem, and yet to me less
> pressing.
> But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.'
> 'And earlier, it is to be hoped,' said Gandalf. 'For I have not
> ridden
> hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed
> of wind,
> only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught
> to you
> that Théoden has fought a great battle and that Isengard is
> overthrown, and
> that I have broken the staff of Saruman?'
> 'It is much to me. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for
> my
> own counsel against the menace of the East.' He turned his dark eyes
> on
> Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt
> the strain
> between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn
> from eye
> to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.
> Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf
> did,
> more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other
> than
> sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the
> deeper
> wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.
> 'How much
> older?' he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had
> never
> thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards,
> but even
> then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf?
> In what
> far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he
> leave it? And
> then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf
> still looked
> each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was
> Denethor who
> first withdrew his gaze.
> 'Yea,' he said; 'for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the
> lords
> of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come
> to them.
> But sit now!'
> Then men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a
> salver
> with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but
> he could
> not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only
> imagined it,
> that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced
> upon
> Pippin's face?
> 'Now tell me your tale, my liege,' said Denethor, half kindly; half
> mockingly. 'For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be
> welcome
> indeed.'
> Pippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing
> eye of
> the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions,
> and all the
> while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and
> (so Pippin
> felt) holding in check a rising wrath and impatience. When the hour
> was over
> and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. 'It cannot be
> more
> than nine o'clock,' he thought. 'I could now eat three breakfasts on
> end.'
> 'Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,' said
> Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if
> he will.
> But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he shall
> be known
> as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send
> word to the
> Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after the
> third
> hour has rung.
> 'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will.
> None
> shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief
> hours of
> sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return
> to my
> comfort!'
> 'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will
> die.
> You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not
> understand
> your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least,
> while I sit
> by?'
> 'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride
> would
> be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out
> such gifts
> according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be
> made the
> tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no
> purpose
> higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the
> rule of
> Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should
> come
> again.'
> 'Unless the king should come again?' said Gandalf. 'Well, my lord
> Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that
> event, which
> few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that you
> are
> pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is
> mine, neither
> of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that
> are in
> peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I
> shall not
> wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything
> passes
> through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower
> again in
> days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?' And with
> that he
> turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.
> Gandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went.
> Their
> guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them
> across the
> Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone.
> After
> several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel
> upon the
> north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the
> mountain.
> Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven
> stair, he
> showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of
> dull gold
> sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table,
> two
> chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves
> and wellclad
> beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three
> high
> narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin,
> still
> shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros far away. Pippin
> had to
> climb on the bench to look out over the deep stone sill.
> 'Are you angry with me, Gandalf?' he said, as their guide went out
> and
> closed the door. 'I did the best I could.'
> 'You did indeed!' said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and
> stood
> beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders and
> gazing out of
> the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close
> beside his
> own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the
> wizard's
> face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he
> looked more
> intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a
> fountain of
> mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.
> 'Indeed you did your best,' said the wizard; 'and I hope that it may
> be
> long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between
> two such
> terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you than
> you may
> have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did
> not lead
> the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high
> honour who
> was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men think
> much
> about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long
> thought
> to the rhyme and to the words _Isildur's Bane_, since Boromir went
> away.
> 'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his
> descent
> from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs
> nearly true
> in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in
> Boromir whom
> he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his
> will
> thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those
> that dwell
> far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.
> 'Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know
> what
> put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well
> done. I did
> not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold
> counsel. It
> touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour. And
> at least
> you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith – when you
> are not
> on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command; and
> he will
> not forget. Be wary still!'
> He fell silent and sighed. 'Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow
> may
> bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than
> today, for
> many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help
> it. The
> board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly
> desire to
> find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is
> in the
> City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go. Pippin. I
> must go to
> this lords' council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the move,
> and he
> is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much
> of it as
> any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your
> blade!'
> Gandalf went to the door, and there he turned. 'I am in haste
> Pippin,' he
> said. 'Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you
> are not
> too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These
> people are
> kindly to beasts, for they are a good and wise folk, but they have
> less skill
> with horses than some.'
> With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of
> a
> clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel. Three strokes it
> rang,
> like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising of
> the sun.
> After a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked
> about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the
> towers and
> tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue
> air Mount
> Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to
> and fro in
> the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to
> changes of
> post and duty.
> 'Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,' said Pippin aloud to
> himself.
> 'Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring
> sunshine. And
> how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it
> over? And
> when do they have dinner, and where?'
> Presently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along
> the
> narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin felt
> lonely
> and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need.
> The man
> came straight up to him.
> 'You are Peregrin the Halfling?' he said. 'I am told that you have
> been
> sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome! He held
> out his
> hand and Pippin took it.
> 'I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning, and
> I
> have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you
> some of the
> many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I
> would
> learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this
> land and
> though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any
> tale that
> we know. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him
> well?'
> 'Well,' said Pippin. 'I have known _of_ him all my short life, as
> you
> might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is
> much to read
> in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or
> two. Yet
> perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only one
> of our
> Company, I think, who really knew him.'
> 'Aragorn?' said Beregond. 'Who is he?'
> 'Oh,' stammered Pippin, 'he was a man who went about with us. I think
> he
> is in Rohan now.'
> 'You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you
> of
> that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its
> people. But
> I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would
> ask. What
> would you know, Master Peregrin?'
> 'Er well,' said Pippin, 'if I may venture to say so, rather a
> burning
> question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and all
> that? I
> mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is the
> diningroom,
> if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see
> as
> we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of
> ale as soon
> as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.'
> Beregond looked at him gravely. 'An old campaigner, I see,' he said.
> 'They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope
> of food
> and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have
> not yet
> eaten today?'
> 'Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,' said Pippin. 'But no more
> than a
> cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord; but
> he
> racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry
> work.'
> Beregond laughed. 'At the table small men may do the greater deeds,
> we
> say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the Citadel,
> and with
> greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now in
> posture
> of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light, and
> go to
> our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!' He laughed
> again, seeing
> the dismay in Pippin's face. 'Those who have had heavy duty take
> somewhat to
> refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the
> nuncheon, at noon
> or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such
> mirth as
> there still may be, about the hour of sunset.
> 'Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment,
> and
> eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.'
> 'One moment!' said Pippin blushing. 'Greed, or hunger by your
> courtesy,
> put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him, asked
> me to
> see to his horse – Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple
> of the
> king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his
> services.
> I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many men,
> and if
> his good will is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax
> with all
> honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if
> it is
> possible.'
> 'Hobbit?' said Beregond.
> 'That is what we call ourselves,' said Pippin.
> 'I am glad to learn it,' said Beregond, 'for now I may say that
> strange
> accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits are a fair-spoken folk.
> But come!
> You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts, and
> we see
> them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the
> mountain-vales,
> and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be
> short, a mere
> call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.'
> Pippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in
> the
> sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair
> stables
> where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the
> errand-riders
> of the Lord: messengers always ready to go at the urgent command of
> Denethor
> or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were out
> and
> away.
> Shadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head.
> 'Good morning!' said Pippin. 'Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He
> is busy,
> but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you;
> and you
> resting, I hope, after your long labours.'
> Shadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to
> handle
> his head gently and stroke his great flanks.
> 'He looks as if he were spoiling for a race, and not newly come from
> a
> great journey,' said Beregond. 'How strong and proud he is! Where is
> his
> harness? It should be rich and fair.'
> 'None is rich and fair enough for him,' said Pippin. 'He will have
> none.
> If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well,
> no bit,
> bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have
> patience.
> Battle is coming.'
> Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook,
> and
> they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the
> manger
> was well filled.
> 'And now for our manger,' said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to
> the
> citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower. There
> they
> went down a long cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There
> were
> hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.
> 'This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard.'
> said
> Beregond. 'Greetings, Targon!' he called through the hatch. 'It is
> early yet,
> but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He
> has ridden
> long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this morning,
> and he
> is hungry. Give us what you have!'
> They got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of
> the
> winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of
> new-drawn
> ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket
> and
> climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at
> the east
> end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure
> in the
> walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could look
> out on
> the morning over the world.
> They ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and
> customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had
> seen. And
> ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with greater
> wonder
> at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or
> standing
> tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below.
> 'I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,' said Beregond, 'that to
> us
> you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so;
> and yet
> you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards
> could
> boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble
> page,
> after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is
> not so,
> and you must pardon my foolishness.'
> 'I do,' said Pippin. 'Though you are not far wrong. I am still
> little
> more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be
> four years
> yet before I "come of age", as we say in the Shire: But do
> not bother about
> me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.'
> The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been
> drawn
> up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of
> white
> cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now
> flapping and
> tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in
> the valleybottom,
> five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be
> seen
> grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a
> mighty
> sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and
> shimmer,
> far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
> Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into
> the
> distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but
> nowhere could
> he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the
> green
> fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines
> towards the
> Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would
> ride up,
> and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the
> traffic
> went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then
> bending
> swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight.
> It was
> wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran a broad green
> ridingtrack,
> and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro,
> but
> all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going
> south. But
> soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were
> moving in
> three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great
> waggons with
> fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim
> of the
> road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
> 'That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the
> mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,' said Beregond. 'There go
> the last
> of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged the children, and the
> women
> that must go with them. They must all be gone from the Gate and the
> road clear
> for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad necessity.'
> He
> sighed. 'Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And there
> were
> always too few children in this city; but now there are none-save
> some young
> lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son
> is one of
> them.'
> They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if
> at
> any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields.
> 'What can I
> see there?' he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve
> of the
> Anduin. 'Is that another city, or what is it?'
> 'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which
> this
> was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side
> of
> Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it
> back in the
> days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an
> outpost, and
> to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the
> Fell
> Riders out of Minas Morgul.'
> 'The Black Riders?' said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were wide
> and
> dark with an old fear re-awakened.
> 'Yes, they were black,' said Beregond, 'and I see that you know
> something
> of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.'
> 'I know of them,' said Pippin softly, 'but I will not speak of them
> now,
> so near, so near.' He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River,
> and it
> seemed to him that all he could see was a vast and threatening
> shadow. Perhaps
> it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges
> softened by
> wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a
> cloud-wall, and
> beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it seemed
> to his
> eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly
> rising to
> smother the regions of the sun.
> 'So near to Mordor?' said Beregond quietly. 'Yes, there it lies. We
> seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow:
> sometimes it
> seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is
> growing and
> darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the
> Fell
> Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many of
> our best
> men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back from
> this
> western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. For a
> little
> while. But we await now a new onslaught there. Maybe the chief
> onslaught of
> the war that comes.'
> 'When?' said Pippin. 'Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons last
> night
> and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war
> had begun.
> He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have
> slowed up
> again.'
> 'Only because everything is now ready,' said Beregond. 'It is but
> the
> deep breath before the plunge.'
> 'But why were the beacons lit last night?'
> 'It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,'
> answered
> Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his
> captains. They
> have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike
> other men:
> he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in
> the Tower
> at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read
> somewhat of the
> future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy,
> wrestling
> with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But
> however that
> may be, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous
> errand,
> and he may have sent tidings.
> 'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was
> the
> news that came yestereve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet
> drawing near
> to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the
> South. They
> have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied
> them with
> the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack
> will draw
> off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and
> Belfalas, where
> folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north to
> Rohan;
> and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you
> bring.
> 'And yet' – he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east,
> and
> south – 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now
> in a
> great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords,
> raiding
> from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This
> is a great war
> long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say.
> Things
> move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and north
> in
> Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be
> put to
> the test, to stand, or fall – under the Shadow.
> 'Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt of
> the
> chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the
> depths of
> time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall
> hardest.
> And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we
> fall, who
> shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall
> stand?'
> Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers
> and
> brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the gathering
> gloom in
> the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the
> orcs in
> the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of
> evil eye,
> and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and of the
> winged
> terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither.
> And even at that
> moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured, as though a
> dark wing
> had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught,
> high and far
> up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold.
> He
> blanched and cowered against the wall.
> 'What was that?' asked Beregond. 'You also felt something?'
> 'Yes,' muttered Pippin. 'It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow
> of
> doom, a Fell Rider of the air.'
> 'Yes, the shadow of doom,' said Beregond. 'I fear that Minas Tirith
> shall
> fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'
> For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak.
> Then
> suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and
> the
> banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. 'It is
> passed,' he
> said. 'No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has
> returned and is
> with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still
> upon our
> knees.'
> 'Rightly said!' cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro.
> 'Nay,
> though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall
> not perish
> yet. Not though the walls be taken by a reckless foe that will build
> a hill of
> carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret
> ways of
> escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some
> hidden
> valley where the grass is green.'
> 'All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill.' said Pippin. 'I
> am no
> warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the
> edge of
> one that I can't escape is worst of all. What a long day it seems
> already! I
> should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making
> no move,
> striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I
> think,
> but for Gandalf.'
> 'Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!' said
> Beregond. 'But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold,
> more bold
> than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a
> captain can
> be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and
> yet a man
> of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir.
> Less
> reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what
> indeed can he
> do? We cannot assault the mountains of – of yonder realm. Our reach
> is
> shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then
> our hand
> must be heavy!' He smote the hilt of his sword.
> Pippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that
> he
> had yet seen in that land; and with a glitter in his eye as he
> thought of the
> battle. 'Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,' he thought,
> but he
> said nothing. 'A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps but on the wrong
> chessboard.'
> So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the
> noonbells
> were rung, and there was a stir in the citadel; for all save the
> watchmen were going to their meal.
> 'Will you come with me?' said Beregond. 'You may join my mess for
> this
> day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord
> may hold
> you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well
> to meet
> as many men as you may, while there is yet time.'
> 'I shall be glad to come,' said Pippin. 'I am lonely, to tell you
> the
> truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one
> to talk to
> or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the
> captain?
> If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?'
> 'Nay, nay,' Beregond laughed, 'I am no captain. Neither office nor
> rank
> nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third
> Company of the
> Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard
> of the
> Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour
> in the
> land.'
> 'Then it is far beyond me,' said Pippin. 'Take me back to our room,
> and
> if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like – as your guest.'
> Gandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin
> went
> with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company. And
> it
> seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for
> Pippin was
> very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about
> Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and
> rumour
> declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to
> offer
> allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that
> when the
> Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling
> warrior, small
> maybe, but doughty.
> Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could
> not
> be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended
> by
> Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for
> coming
> among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and
> gave him as
> much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to be
> 'wary'
> according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag
> freely
> after the manner of a hobbit among friends.
> At length Beregond rose. 'Farewell for this time!' he said. 'I have
> duty
> now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you
> are lonely,
> as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My son
> would go
> with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down
> to the
> lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain,
> the
> Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that
> are
> remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the
> Great Gate
> ere the closing.'
> He went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was
> still
> fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so
> far
> southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless, and
> he
> decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that
> he had
> saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the
> horse seemed
> to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
> People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely
> courteous,
> saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands
> upon the
> breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors
> cried to
> others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the
> companion of
> Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but
> it was not
> long before he learned at least what was meant by _Ernil i
> Pheriannath_ and
> knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
> He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements
> to
> the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the
> Lampwrights'
> Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found
> the Old
> Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings
> running
> back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind
> which was
> the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared
> porch and
> a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the
> pillars,
> the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he
> stopped to look
> at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout
> he sprang
> across the grass and came into the street, followed by several
> others. There
> he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
> 'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a
> stranger in
> the City.'
> 'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
> 'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are
> you,
> and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be five
> feet. I
> am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the
> tallest. What is
> your father?'
> 'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms
> the
> lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly
> twenty-nine,
> so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to
> grow any
> more, save sideways.'
> 'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old! As
> old
> as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could
> stand you on
> your head or lay you on your back.'
> 'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And maybe
> I
> could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little
> country.
> Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong;
> and I
> have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a
> trial and
> nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are
> older,
> you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though
> you may
> have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you:
> I am
> not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!' Pippin pulled such a
> grim face
> that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with
> clenched fists
> and the light of battle in his eye.
> 'No!' Pippin laughed. 'Don't believe what strangers say of
> themselves
> either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for
> the
you typed all that?
you're off yer 'ead
you're off yer 'ead
The Lord of the Rings_
_Chapter 1_
Minas Tirith
Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered if he
was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which he had
been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was rushing by
and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the wheeling
stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the mountains
of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and stages of
their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.
There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and then
in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to the silent
town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they reached its
shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men wilted with
fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a corner,
tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men talking and
Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night. This was
the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone. And with
that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of the wind
became filled with menacing voices.
A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark barriers
Pippin cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what dreadful country
Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it was the
moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So the night
was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would go on. He stirred and
spoke.
'Where are we, Gandalf?' he asked.
'In the realm of Gondor,' the wizard answered. 'The land of Anórien is
still passing by.'
There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried Pippin
suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are there
dragons in this land? Look, there is another!'
For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadowfax! We must
hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid.
War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame on Eilenach; and
there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad, and the
Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.'
But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he lifted
up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh of other
horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and three riders
swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into the West.
Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the night flowed
over him like a roaring wind.
Pippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf telling
him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had beacons built
on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range, and
maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in readiness
to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in the South.
'It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,' he said; 'and in the
ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven Stones.'
Pippin stirred uneasily.
'Sleep again, and do not be afraid!' said Gandalf. 'For you are not going
like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as safe as
you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is taken, then
the Shire will be no refuge.'
'You do not comfort me,' said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept over
him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep dream was a
glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above the clouds
as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where Frodo was,
and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not know that
Frodo from far away looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor ere the
coming of the day.
Pippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a night of
journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand again, and
chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with sweat, but he
held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men heavily
cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall of stone.
Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed the sound of
hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels, and the
creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and there in the fog.
Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he listened Pippin
became aware that he himself was being discussed.
'Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the men, 'and
you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go forward. But we
do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains in the
North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless they be
mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'
'I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,' said Gandalf. 'And as
for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed through more
battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his height; and
he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear tidings, and
great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is Peregrin, a very
valiant man.'
'Man?' said Ingold dubiously; and the others laughed.
'Man!' cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. 'Man! Indeed not! I am a
hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and again by
necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!'
'Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,' said Ingold. 'But what is
a hobbit?'
'A Halfling,' answered Gandalf. 'Nay, not the one that was spoken of,' he
added seeing the wonder in the men's faces. 'Not he, yet one of his kindred.'
'Yes, and one who journeyed with him,' said Pippin. 'And Boromir of your
City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at the last
he was slain defending me from many foes.'
'Peace!' said Gandalf. 'The news of that grief should have been told
first to the father.'
'It has been guessed already,' said Ingold; 'for there have been strange
portents here of late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of Minas Tirith
will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be he man
or-'
'Hobbit,' said Pippin. 'Little service can I offer to your lord, but what
I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.'
'Fare you well!' said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadow fax, and he
passed through a narrow gate in the wall. 'May you bring good counsel to
Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!' Ingold cried. 'But you come
with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.'
'Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,' answered Gandalf.
'And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in repairing
the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence against the
storm that is at hand – that and such hope as I bring. For not all the tidings
that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your swords!'
'The work will be finished ere evening,' said Ingold. 'This is the last
portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack, for it
looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will they
answer the summons, think you?'
'Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your back.
This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant! But for
Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of Anórien and
no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!'
Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So the men
of Gondor called the out wall that they had built with great labour, after
Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or more it ran
from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence the fields
of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and terraces
falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from the Great
Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant, and there
from a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river, and men
had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled causeway, the
road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed through a
guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall was
little more than one league from the City, and that was south-eastward. There
Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South Ithilien,
bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and beneath it
lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came upstream from
the southern fiefs.
The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and
homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many rills
rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet the herdsmen
and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of the people
of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high vales of the
mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin with its
five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains and the
sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled, and there
were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from the
forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark Years ere the
coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas, dwelt Prince
Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high blood, and
his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.
Now after Gandalf had ridden for some time the light of day grew in the
sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea of mist,
rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great mountains reared
their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if in the
making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier, carving out a
mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come. And there
where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw, as Gandalf
had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple shadows of
its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And upon its
out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone so strong
and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants out of
the bones of the earth.
Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to
white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed over the
eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the City. Then
Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within the
topmost walls' shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and
silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if it were
wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the
battlements in the morning breeze' and high and far he heard a clear ringing
as of silver trumpets.
So Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor at
the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.
'Mithrandir! Mithrandir!' men cried. 'Now we know that the storm is
indeed nigh!'
'It is upon you,' said Gandalf. 'I have ridden on its wings. Let me pass!
I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts. Whatever
betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known. Let me
pass!'
Then men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned him no
further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before him and at
the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very little
and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden by the
errand-riders of their lord. And they said: 'Surely that is one of the great
steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to strengthen
us.' But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road.
For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven
levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and in each
wall was a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great Gate in the
City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced half south,
and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the paved way
that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that across
the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the Great Gate
it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose huge outthrust
bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For
partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty craft and
labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind the Gate
a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing east. Up it
rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned by a
battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a mountainous
ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet below.
The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in the heart
of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh gate. Thus men
reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before the feet
of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to the
pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet above the
plain.
A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of enemies,
if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe could come
behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon the narrow
shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But that
shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged with great
ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end; and in that
space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords, for ever
silent between the mountain and the tower.
Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and more
splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger than
Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year by year
into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt at ease
there. In every street they passed some great house or court over whose doors
and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and ancient shapes:
names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt there; and
yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide pavements, nor
voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or empty
window.
At last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm sun
that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of Ithilien,
glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great arch with
keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head. Gandalf
dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax suffered
himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.
The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of
strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to the face,
and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds; but the
helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought of
_mithril_, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black surcoats were
embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver crown and
many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and none wore
it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the
Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them: and at
once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly Gandalf
strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played there in the
morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the midst.
drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops dripped sadly
from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.
Pippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked mournful, he
thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place where
everything else was well tended.
_Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree._
The words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And then he
found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming tower; and
behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered the cool
echoing shadows of the house of stone.
They walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went
Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. 'Be careful of your words, Master Peregrin!
This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old man. Denethor is
of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and power,
though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and question
you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him greatly: too
much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But under cover of
this love he will think it easier to learn what he witches from you rather
than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet the matter
of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say nothing about
Aragorn either, unless you must.'
'Why not? What is wrong with Strider?' Pippin whispered. 'He meant to
come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself anyway.'
'Maybe, maybe,' said Gandalf. 'Though if he comes, it is likely to be in
some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better so. At
least he should come unheralded by us.'
Gandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. 'See, Master Pippin,
there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor; though it might
have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were still
birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as I bid! It is
scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a mighty lord
to speak over much of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim the
kingship. Is that enough?'
'Kingship?' said Pippin amazed.
'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed ears
and mind asleep, wake up now!' He knocked on the door.
The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked into
a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at either side,
beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of black
marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of beasts
and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with dull gold,
inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor storied webs,
nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that long solemn
hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall images
graven in cold stone.
Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe fell
on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far end upon
a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble shaped
like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with gems an
image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of the dais,
upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone chair, black
and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his hand was a
white rod with a golden knob. He did not look up. Solemnly they paced the long
floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool. Then
Gandalf spoke.
'Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I am
come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.'
Then the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its proud
bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark deep
eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn. 'Dark indeed
is the hour,' said the old man, 'and at such times you are wont to come,
Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of Gondor is
drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness. It has
been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is this he?'
'It is,' said Gandalf. 'One of the twain. The other is with Théoden of
Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet this is not
he of whom the omens spoke.'
'Yet a Halfling still,' said Denethor grimly, 'and little love do I bear
the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels and drew
away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have need of
you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.'
'He would have gone,' said Gandalf. 'Be not unjust in your grief! Boromir
claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was a
masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with him and
learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had news of
that ere we came?'
'I have received this,' said Denethor, and laying down his rod he lifted
from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he held up one
half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound with
silver.
'That is the horn that Boromir always wore!' cried Pippin.
'Verily,' said Denethor. 'And in my turn I bore it, and so did each
eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the failing
of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine of Araw in
the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the northern marches
thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will wind no
more.' He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned his black
glance upon Pippin. 'What say you to that, Halfling?'
'Thirteen, thirteen days,' faltered Pippin. 'Yes, I think that would be
so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came. Only more
orcs.'
'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were there?
Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet he did
not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?'
Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. 'The mightiest man may be slain by
one arrow,' he said; 'and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I saw him he
sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his side. Then I
swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more. But I
honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my kinsman
Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the Dark Lord;
and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.'
Then Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred strangely
within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold voice. 'Little
service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a
halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in
payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew forth his
small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.
A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed over
the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand, laying the
shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said.
Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?' said
Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought by our
own kindred in the North in the deep past?'
'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country ' said
Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not willingly tell
more of them.'
'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and once
again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I accept
your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have courteous speech,
strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we shall have
need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come.
Swear to me now!'
'Take the hilt,' said Gandalf, 'and speak after the Lord, if you are
resolved on this.'
'I am,' said Pippin.
The old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to the
hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:
'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and
Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come
and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this
hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end.
So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'
And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor, Steward of
the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is
given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance.'
Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.
'And now,' said Denethor, 'my first command to you: speak and be not
silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you can of
Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!' As he spoke he struck a small silver gong
that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward. Pippin saw
then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the door, unseen
as he and Gandalf entered.
'Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,' said Denethor, 'and see
that none trouble us for one hour.'
'It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,' he said
to Gandalf. 'Much of more import, it may seem, and yet to me less pressing.
But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.'
'And earlier, it is to be hoped,' said Gandalf. 'For I have not ridden
hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed of wind,
only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught to you
that Théoden has fought a great battle and that Isengard is overthrown, and
that I have broken the staff of Saruman?'
'It is much to me. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for my
own counsel against the menace of the East.' He turned his dark eyes on
Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt the strain
between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn from eye
to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.
Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf did,
more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other than
sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the deeper
wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older. 'How much
older?' he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had never
thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards, but even
then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf? In what
far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he leave it? And
then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf still looked
each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was Denethor who
first withdrew his gaze.
'Yea,' he said; 'for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the lords
of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come to them.
But sit now!'
Then men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a salver
with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but he could
not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only imagined it,
that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced upon
Pippin's face?
'Now tell me your tale, my liege,' said Denethor, half kindly; half
mockingly. 'For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be welcome
indeed.'
Pippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing eye of
the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions, and all the
while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and (so Pippin
felt) holding in check a rising wrath and impatience. When the hour was over
and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. 'It cannot be more
than nine o'clock,' he thought. 'I could now eat three breakfasts on end.'
'Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,' said
Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if he will.
But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he shall be known
as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send word to the
Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after the third
hour has rung.
'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will. None
shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief hours of
sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return to my
comfort!'
'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will die.
You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not understand
your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit
by?'
'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride would
be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out such gifts
according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the
tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose
higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of
Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should come
again.'
'Unless the king should come again?' said Gandalf. 'Well, my lord
Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that event, which
few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that you are
pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither
of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in
peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not
wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes
through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in
days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?' And with that he
turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.
Gandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went. Their
guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them across the
Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone. After
several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel upon the
north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the mountain.
Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven stair, he
showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of dull gold
sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table, two
chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves and wellclad
beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three high
narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin, still
shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros far away. Pippin had to
climb on the bench to look out over the deep stone sill.
'Are you angry with me, Gandalf?' he said, as their guide went out and
closed the door. 'I did the best I could.'
'You did indeed!' said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and stood
beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders and gazing out of
the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his
own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard's
face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more
intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of
mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.
'Indeed you did your best,' said the wizard; 'and I hope that it may be
long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between two such
terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you than you may
have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did not lead
the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high honour who
was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men think much
about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long thought
to the rhyme and to the words _Isildur's Bane_, since Boromir went away.
'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his descent
from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs nearly true
in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in Boromir whom
he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his will
thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those that dwell
far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.
'Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know what
put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well done. I did
not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold counsel. It
touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour. And at least
you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith – when you are not
on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command; and he will
not forget. Be wary still!'
He fell silent and sighed. 'Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow may
bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than today, for
many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help it. The
board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly desire to
find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is in the
City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go. Pippin. I must go to
this lords' council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the move, and he
is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much of it as
any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your blade!'
Gandalf went to the door, and there he turned. 'I am in haste Pippin,' he
said. 'Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you are not
too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These people are
kindly to beasts, for they are a good and wise folk, but they have less skill
with horses than some.'
With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of a
clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel. Three strokes it rang,
like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising of the sun.
After a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked
about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the towers and
tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue air Mount
Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to and fro in
the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to changes of
post and duty.
'Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,' said Pippin aloud to himself.
'Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring sunshine. And
how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it over? And
when do they have dinner, and where?'
Presently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along the
narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin felt lonely
and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need. The man
came straight up to him.
'You are Peregrin the Halfling?' he said. 'I am told that you have been
sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome! He held out his
hand and Pippin took it.
'I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning, and I
have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you some of the
many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I would
learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this land and
though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any tale that
we know. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him well?'
'Well,' said Pippin. 'I have known _of_ him all my short life, as you
might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is much to read
in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or two. Yet
perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only one of our
Company, I think, who really knew him.'
'Aragorn?' said Beregond. 'Who is he?'
'Oh,' stammered Pippin, 'he was a man who went about with us. I think he
is in Rohan now.'
'You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you of
that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its people. But
I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would ask. What
would you know, Master Peregrin?'
'Er well,' said Pippin, 'if I may venture to say so, rather a burning
question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and all that? I
mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is the diningroom,
if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see as
we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of ale as soon
as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.'
Beregond looked at him gravely. 'An old campaigner, I see,' he said.
'They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope of food
and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have not yet
eaten today?'
'Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,' said Pippin. 'But no more than a
cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord; but he
racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry work.'
Beregond laughed. 'At the table small men may do the greater deeds, we
say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the Citadel, and with
greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now in posture
of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light, and go to
our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!' He laughed again, seeing
the dismay in Pippin's face. 'Those who have had heavy duty take somewhat to
refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the nuncheon, at noon
or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such mirth as
there still may be, about the hour of sunset.
'Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment, and
eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.'
'One moment!' said Pippin blushing. 'Greed, or hunger by your courtesy,
put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him, asked me to
see to his horse – Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple of the
king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his services.
I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many men, and if
his good will is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax with all
honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if it is
possible.'
'Hobbit?' said Beregond.
'That is what we call ourselves,' said Pippin.
'I am glad to learn it,' said Beregond, 'for now I may say that strange
accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits are a fair-spoken folk. But come!
You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts, and we see
them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the mountain-vales,
and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be short, a mere
call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.'
Pippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in the
sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair stables
where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the errand-riders
of the Lord: messengers always ready to go at the urgent command of Denethor
or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were out and
away.
Shadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head.
'Good morning!' said Pippin. 'Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He is busy,
but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you; and you
resting, I hope, after your long labours.'
Shadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to handle
his head gently and stroke his great flanks.
'He looks as if he were spoiling for a race, and not newly come from a
great journey,' said Beregond. 'How strong and proud he is! Where is his
harness? It should be rich and fair.'
'None is rich and fair enough for him,' said Pippin. 'He will have none.
If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit,
bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have patience.
Battle is coming.'
Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook, and
they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the manger
was well filled.
'And now for our manger,' said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to the
citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower. There they
went down a long cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There were
hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.
'This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard.' said
Beregond. 'Greetings, Targon!' he called through the hatch. 'It is early yet,
but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He has ridden
long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this morning, and he
is hungry. Give us what you have!'
They got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of the
winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of new-drawn
ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket and
climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at the east
end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure in the
walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could look out on
the morning over the world.
They ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and
customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had seen. And
ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with greater wonder
at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or standing
tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below.
'I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,' said Beregond, 'that to us
you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so; and yet
you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards could
boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble page,
after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is not so,
and you must pardon my foolishness.'
'I do,' said Pippin. 'Though you are not far wrong. I am still little
more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be four years
yet before I "come of age", as we say in the Shire: But do not bother about
me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.'
The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been drawn
up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of white
cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now flapping and
tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in the valleybottom,
five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be seen
grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a mighty
sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and shimmer,
far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into the
distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but nowhere could
he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the green
fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines towards the
Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would ride up,
and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the traffic
went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then bending
swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight. It was
wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran a broad green ridingtrack,
and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro, but
all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going south. But
soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were moving in
three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great waggons with
fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim of the
road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
'That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the
mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,' said Beregond. 'There go the last
of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged the children, and the women
that must go with them. They must all be gone from the Gate and the road clear
for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad necessity.' He
sighed. 'Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And there were
always too few children in this city; but now there are none-save some young
lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son is one of
them.'
They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if at
any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields. 'What can I
see there?' he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve of the
Anduin. 'Is that another city, or what is it?'
'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which this
was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of
Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the
days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and
to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the Fell
Riders out of Minas Morgul.'
'The Black Riders?' said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were wide and
dark with an old fear re-awakened.
'Yes, they were black,' said Beregond, 'and I see that you know something
of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.'
'I know of them,' said Pippin softly, 'but I will not speak of them now,
so near, so near.' He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River, and it
seemed to him that all he could see was a vast and threatening shadow. Perhaps
it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges softened by
wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a cloud-wall, and
beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it seemed to his
eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly rising to
smother the regions of the sun.
'So near to Mordor?' said Beregond quietly. 'Yes, there it lies. We
seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow: sometimes it
seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is growing and
darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the Fell
Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many of our best
men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back from this
western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. For a little
while. But we await now a new onslaught there. Maybe the chief onslaught of
the war that comes.'
'When?' said Pippin. 'Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons last night
and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war had begun.
He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have slowed up
again.'
'Only because everything is now ready,' said Beregond. 'It is but the
deep breath before the plunge.'
'But why were the beacons lit last night?'
'It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,' answered
Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his captains. They
have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike other men:
he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in the Tower
at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read somewhat of the
future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy, wrestling
with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But however that
may be, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous errand,
and he may have sent tidings.
'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was the
news that came yestereve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet drawing near
to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the South. They
have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied them with
the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack will draw
off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and Belfalas, where
folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north to Rohan;
and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you bring.
'And yet' – he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east, and
south – 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now in a
great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords, raiding
from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This is a great war
long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say. Things
move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and north in
Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be put to
the test, to stand, or fall – under the Shadow.
'Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt of the
chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the depths of
time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall hardest.
And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we fall, who
shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall stand?'
Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers and
brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the gathering gloom in
the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the orcs in
the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of evil eye,
and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and of the winged
terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither. And even at that
moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured, as though a dark wing
had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught, high and far
up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold. He
blanched and cowered against the wall.
'What was that?' asked Beregond. 'You also felt something?'
'Yes,' muttered Pippin. 'It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow of
doom, a Fell Rider of the air.'
'Yes, the shadow of doom,' said Beregond. 'I fear that Minas Tirith shall
fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'
For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak. Then
suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and the
banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. 'It is passed,' he
said. 'No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has returned and is
with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our
knees.'
'Rightly said!' cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro. 'Nay,
though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall not perish
yet. Not though the walls be taken by a reckless foe that will build a hill of
carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret ways of
escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some hidden
valley where the grass is green.'
'All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill.' said Pippin. 'I am no
warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the edge of
one that I can't escape is worst of all. What a long day it seems already! I
should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making no move,
striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I think,
but for Gandalf.'
'Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!' said
Beregond. 'But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold, more bold
than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a captain can
be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and yet a man
of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir. Less
reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what indeed can he
do? We cannot assault the mountains of – of yonder realm. Our reach is
shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then our hand
must be heavy!' He smote the hilt of his sword.
Pippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that he
had yet seen in that land; and with a glitter in his eye as he thought of the
battle. 'Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,' he thought, but he
said nothing. 'A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps but on the wrong chessboard.'
So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the noonbells
were rung, and there was a stir in the citadel; for all save the
watchmen were going to their meal.
'Will you come with me?' said Beregond. 'You may join my mess for this
day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord may hold
you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well to meet
as many men as you may, while there is yet time.'
'I shall be glad to come,' said Pippin. 'I am lonely, to tell you the
truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one to talk to
or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the captain?
If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?'
'Nay, nay,' Beregond laughed, 'I am no captain. Neither office nor rank
nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third Company of the
Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard of the
Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour in the
land.'
'Then it is far beyond me,' said Pippin. 'Take me back to our room, and
if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like – as your guest.'
Gandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin went
with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company. And it
seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for Pippin was
very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about
Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and rumour
declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to offer
allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that when the
Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling warrior, small
maybe, but doughty.
Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could not
be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended by
Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for coming
among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and gave him as
much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to be 'wary'
according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag freely
after the manner of a hobbit among friends.
At length Beregond rose. 'Farewell for this time!' he said. 'I have duty
now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you are lonely,
as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My son would go
with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down to the
lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain, the
Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that are
remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the Great Gate
ere the closing.'
He went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was still
fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so far
southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless, and he
decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that he had
saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the horse seemed
to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely courteous,
saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands upon the
breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors cried to
others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the companion of
Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but it was not
long before he learned at least what was meant by _Ernil i Pheriannath_ and
knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements to
the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the Lampwrights'
Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found the Old
Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings running
back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind which was
the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared porch and
a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the pillars,
the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he stopped to look
at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout he sprang
across the grass and came into the street, followed by several others. There
he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a stranger in
the City.'
'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are you,
and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be five feet. I
am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the tallest. What is
your father?'
'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms the
lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine,
so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any
more, save sideways.'
'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old! As old
as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could stand you on
your head or lay you on your back.'
'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And maybe I
could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little country.
Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I
have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a trial and
nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are older,
you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may
have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am
not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!' Pippin pulled such a grim face
that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with clenched fists
and the light of battle in his eye.
'No!' Pippin laughed. 'Don't believe what strangers say of themselves
either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for the
challenger to say who he is.'
The boy drew himself up proudly. 'I am Bergil son of Beregond of the
Guards,' he said.
'So I thought,' said Pippin, 'for you look like your father. I know him
and he sent me to find you.'
'Then why did you not say so at once?' said Bergil, and suddenly a look
of dismay came over his face. 'Do not tell me that he has changed his mind,
and will send me away with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone.'
'His message is less bad than that, if not good.' said Pippin. 'He says
that if you would prefer it to standing me on my head, you might show me round
the City for a while and cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far
countries in return.'
Bergil clapped his hands, and laughed with relief. 'All is well,' he
cried. 'Come then! We were soon going to the Gate to look on. We will go now.'
'What is happening there?'
'The Captains of the Outlands are expected up the South Road ere sundown.
Come with us and you will see.'
Bergil proved a good comrade, the best company Pippin had had since he
parted from Merry, and soon they were laughing and talking gaily as they went
about the streets, heedless of the many glances that men gave them. Before
long they found themselves in a throng going towards the Great Gate. There
Pippin went up much in the esteem of Bergil, for when he spoke his name and
the pass-word the guard saluted him and let him pass through; and what was
more, he allowed him to take his companion with him.
'That is good!' said Bergil. 'We boys are no longer allowed to pass the
Gate without an elder. Now we shall see better.'
Beyond the Gate there was a crowd of men along the verge of the road and
of the great paved space into which all the ways to Minas Tirith ran. All eyes
were turned southwards, and soon a murmur rose: 'There is dust away there!
They are coming!'
Pippin and Bergil edged their way forward to the front of the crowd, and
waited. Horns sounded at some distance, and the noise of cheering rolled
towards them like a gathering wind. Then there was a loud trumpet-blast, and
all about them people were shouting.
'Forlong! Forlong!' Pippin heard men calling. 'What do they say?' he
asked.
'Forlong has come,' Bergil answered; 'old Forlong the Fat, the Lord of
Lossarnach. That is where my grandsire lives. Hurrah! Here he is. Good old
Forlong!'
Leading the line there came walking a big thick-limbed horse, and on it
sat a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, yet
mail-clad and black-helmed and bearing a long heavy spear. Behind him marched
proudly a dusty line of men, well-armed and bearing great battle-axes; grimfaced
they were, and shorter and somewhat swarthier than any men that Pippin
had yet seen in Gondor.
'Forlong!' men shouted. 'True heart, true friend! Forlong!' But when the
men of Lossarnach had passed they muttered: 'So few! Two hundreds, what are
they? We hoped for ten times the number. That will be the new tidings of the
black fleet. They are sparing only a tithe of their strength. Still every
little is a gain.'
And so the companies came and were hailed and cheered and passed through
the Gate, men of the Outlands marching to defend the City of Gondor in a dark
hour; but always too few, always less than hope looked for or need asked. The
men of Ringló Vale behind the son of their lord, Dervorin striding on foot:
three hundreds. From the uplands of Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale, tall
Duinhir with his sons, Duilin and Derufin, and five hundred bowmen. From the
Anfalas, the Langstrand far away, a long line of men of many sorts, hunters
and herdsmen and men of little villages, scantily equipped save for the
household of Golasgil their lord. From Lamedon, a few grim hillmen without a
captain. Fisher-folk of the Ethir, some
_Chapter 1_
Minas Tirith
Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered if he
was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which he had
been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was rushing by
and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the wheeling
stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the mountains
of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and stages of
their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.
There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and then
in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to the silent
town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they reached its
shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men wilted with
fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a corner,
tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men talking and
Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night. This was
the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone. And with
that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of the wind
became filled with menacing voices.
A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark barriers
Pippin cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what dreadful country
Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it was the
moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So the night
was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would go on. He stirred and
spoke.
'Where are we, Gandalf?' he asked.
'In the realm of Gondor,' the wizard answered. 'The land of Anórien is
still passing by.'
There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried Pippin
suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are there
dragons in this land? Look, there is another!'
For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadowfax! We must
hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid.
War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame on Eilenach; and
there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad, and the
Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.'
But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he lifted
up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh of other
horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and three riders
swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into the West.
Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the night flowed
over him like a roaring wind.
Pippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf telling
him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had beacons built
on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range, and
maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in readiness
to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in the South.
'It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,' he said; 'and in the
ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven Stones.'
Pippin stirred uneasily.
'Sleep again, and do not be afraid!' said Gandalf. 'For you are not going
like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as safe as
you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is taken, then
the Shire will be no refuge.'
'You do not comfort me,' said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept over
him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep dream was a
glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above the clouds
as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where Frodo was,
and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not know that
Frodo from far away looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor ere the
coming of the day.
Pippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a night of
journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand again, and
chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with sweat, but he
held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men heavily
cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall of stone.
Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed the sound of
hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels, and the
creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and there in the fog.
Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he listened Pippin
became aware that he himself was being discussed.
'Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the men, 'and
you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go forward. But we
do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains in the
North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless they be
mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'
'I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,' said Gandalf. 'And as
for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed through more
battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his height; and
he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear tidings, and
great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is Peregrin, a very
valiant man.'
'Man?' said Ingold dubiously; and the others laughed.
'Man!' cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. 'Man! Indeed not! I am a
hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and again by
necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!'
'Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,' said Ingold. 'But what is
a hobbit?'
'A Halfling,' answered Gandalf. 'Nay, not the one that was spoken of,' he
added seeing the wonder in the men's faces. 'Not he, yet one of his kindred.'
'Yes, and one who journeyed with him,' said Pippin. 'And Boromir of your
City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at the last
he was slain defending me from many foes.'
'Peace!' said Gandalf. 'The news of that grief should have been told
first to the father.'
'It has been guessed already,' said Ingold; 'for there have been strange
portents here of late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of Minas Tirith
will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be he man
or-'
'Hobbit,' said Pippin. 'Little service can I offer to your lord, but what
I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.'
'Fare you well!' said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadow fax, and he
passed through a narrow gate in the wall. 'May you bring good counsel to
Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!' Ingold cried. 'But you come
with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.'
'Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,' answered Gandalf.
'And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in repairing
the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence against the
storm that is at hand – that and such hope as I bring. For not all the tidings
that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your swords!'
'The work will be finished ere evening,' said Ingold. 'This is the last
portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack, for it
looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will they
answer the summons, think you?'
'Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your back.
This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant! But for
Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of Anórien and
no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!'
Gandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So the men
of Gondor called the out wall that they had built with great labour, after
Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or more it ran
from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence the fields
of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and terraces
falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from the Great
Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant, and there
from a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river, and men
had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled causeway, the
road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed through a
guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall was
little more than one league from the City, and that was south-eastward. There
Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South Ithilien,
bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and beneath it
lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came upstream from
the southern fiefs.
The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and
homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many rills
rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet the herdsmen
and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of the people
of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high vales of the
mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin with its
five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains and the
sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled, and there
were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from the
forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark Years ere the
coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas, dwelt Prince
Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high blood, and
his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.
Now after Gandalf had ridden for some time the light of day grew in the
sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea of mist,
rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great mountains reared
their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if in the
making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier, carving out a
mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come. And there
where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw, as Gandalf
had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple shadows of
its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And upon its
out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone so strong
and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants out of
the bones of the earth.
Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to
white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed over the
eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the City. Then
Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within the
topmost walls' shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and
silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if it were
wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the
battlements in the morning breeze' and high and far he heard a clear ringing
as of silver trumpets.
So Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor at
the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.
'Mithrandir! Mithrandir!' men cried. 'Now we know that the storm is
indeed nigh!'
'It is upon you,' said Gandalf. 'I have ridden on its wings. Let me pass!
I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts. Whatever
betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known. Let me
pass!'
Then men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned him no
further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before him and at
the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very little
and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden by the
errand-riders of their lord. And they said: 'Surely that is one of the great
steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to strengthen
us.' But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road.
For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven
levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and in each
wall was a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great Gate in the
City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced half south,
and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the paved way
that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that across
the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the Great Gate
it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose huge outthrust
bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For
partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty craft and
labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind the Gate
a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing east. Up it
rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned by a
battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a mountainous
ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet below.
The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in the heart
of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh gate. Thus men
reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before the feet
of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to the
pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet above the
plain.
A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of enemies,
if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe could come
behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon the narrow
shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But that
shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged with great
ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end; and in that
space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords, for ever
silent between the mountain and the tower.
Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and more
splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger than
Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year by year
into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt at ease
there. In every street they passed some great house or court over whose doors
and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and ancient shapes:
names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt there; and
yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide pavements, nor
voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or empty
window.
At last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm sun
that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of Ithilien,
glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great arch with
keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head. Gandalf
dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax suffered
himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.
The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of
strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to the face,
and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds; but the
helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought of
_mithril_, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black surcoats were
embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver crown and
many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and none wore
it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the
Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them: and at
once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly Gandalf
strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played there in the
morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the midst.
drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops dripped sadly
from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.
Pippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked mournful, he
thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place where
everything else was well tended.
_Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree._
The words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And then he
found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming tower; and
behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered the cool
echoing shadows of the house of stone.
They walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went
Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. 'Be careful of your words, Master Peregrin!
This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old man. Denethor is
of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and power,
though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and question
you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him greatly: too
much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But under cover of
this love he will think it easier to learn what he witches from you rather
than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet the matter
of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say nothing about
Aragorn either, unless you must.'
'Why not? What is wrong with Strider?' Pippin whispered. 'He meant to
come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself anyway.'
'Maybe, maybe,' said Gandalf. 'Though if he comes, it is likely to be in
some way that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better so. At
least he should come unheralded by us.'
Gandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. 'See, Master Pippin,
there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor; though it might
have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were still
birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as I bid! It is
scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a mighty lord
to speak over much of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim the
kingship. Is that enough?'
'Kingship?' said Pippin amazed.
'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed ears
and mind asleep, wake up now!' He knocked on the door.
The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked into
a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at either side,
beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of black
marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of beasts
and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with dull gold,
inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor storied webs,
nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that long solemn
hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall images
graven in cold stone.
Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe fell
on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far end upon
a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble shaped
like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with gems an
image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of the dais,
upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone chair, black
and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his hand was a
white rod with a golden knob. He did not look up. Solemnly they paced the long
floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool. Then
Gandalf spoke.
'Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I am
come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.'
Then the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its proud
bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark deep
eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn. 'Dark indeed
is the hour,' said the old man, 'and at such times you are wont to come,
Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of Gondor is
drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness. It has
been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is this he?'
'It is,' said Gandalf. 'One of the twain. The other is with Théoden of
Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet this is not
he of whom the omens spoke.'
'Yet a Halfling still,' said Denethor grimly, 'and little love do I bear
the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels and drew
away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have need of
you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.'
'He would have gone,' said Gandalf. 'Be not unjust in your grief! Boromir
claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was a
masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with him and
learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had news of
that ere we came?'
'I have received this,' said Denethor, and laying down his rod he lifted
from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he held up one
half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound with
silver.
'That is the horn that Boromir always wore!' cried Pippin.
'Verily,' said Denethor. 'And in my turn I bore it, and so did each
eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the failing
of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine of Araw in
the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the northern marches
thirteen days ago, and the River brought it to me, broken: it will wind no
more.' He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned his black
glance upon Pippin. 'What say you to that, Halfling?'
'Thirteen, thirteen days,' faltered Pippin. 'Yes, I think that would be
so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came. Only more
orcs.'
'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were there?
Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet he did
not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?'
Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. 'The mightiest man may be slain by
one arrow,' he said; 'and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I saw him he
sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his side. Then I
swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more. But I
honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my kinsman
Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the Dark Lord;
and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.'
Then Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred strangely
within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold voice. 'Little
service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a
halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in
payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew forth his
small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.
A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed over
the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand, laying the
shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said.
Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?' said
Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought by our
own kindred in the North in the deep past?'
'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country ' said
Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not willingly tell
more of them.'
'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and once
again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I accept
your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have courteous speech,
strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we shall have
need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come.
Swear to me now!'
'Take the hilt,' said Gandalf, 'and speak after the Lord, if you are
resolved on this.'
'I am,' said Pippin.
The old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to the
hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:
'Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and
Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come
and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this
hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end.
So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.'
And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor, Steward of
the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is
given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance.'
Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.
'And now,' said Denethor, 'my first command to you: speak and be not
silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you can of
Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!' As he spoke he struck a small silver gong
that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward. Pippin saw
then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the door, unseen
as he and Gandalf entered.
'Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,' said Denethor, 'and see
that none trouble us for one hour.'
'It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,' he said
to Gandalf. 'Much of more import, it may seem, and yet to me less pressing.
But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.'
'And earlier, it is to be hoped,' said Gandalf. 'For I have not ridden
hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed of wind,
only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught to you
that Théoden has fought a great battle and that Isengard is overthrown, and
that I have broken the staff of Saruman?'
'It is much to me. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for my
own counsel against the menace of the East.' He turned his dark eyes on
Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt the strain
between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn from eye
to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.
Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf did,
more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other than
sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the deeper
wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older. 'How much
older?' he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had never
thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards, but even
then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf? In what
far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he leave it? And
then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf still looked
each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was Denethor who
first withdrew his gaze.
'Yea,' he said; 'for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the lords
of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come to them.
But sit now!'
Then men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a salver
with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but he could
not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only imagined it,
that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced upon
Pippin's face?
'Now tell me your tale, my liege,' said Denethor, half kindly; half
mockingly. 'For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be welcome
indeed.'
Pippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing eye of
the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions, and all the
while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and (so Pippin
felt) holding in check a rising wrath and impatience. When the hour was over
and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. 'It cannot be more
than nine o'clock,' he thought. 'I could now eat three breakfasts on end.'
'Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,' said
Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if he will.
But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he shall be known
as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send word to the
Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as may be after the third
hour has rung.
'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will. None
shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief hours of
sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return to my
comfort!'
'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will die.
You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not understand
your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit
by?'
'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride would
be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out such gifts
according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the
tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose
higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of
Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should come
again.'
'Unless the king should come again?' said Gandalf. 'Well, my lord
Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that event, which
few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that you are
pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither
of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in
peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not
wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes
through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in
days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?' And with that he
turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.
Gandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went. Their
guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them across the
Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone. After
several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel upon the
north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the mountain.
Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven stair, he
showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of dull gold
sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table, two
chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves and wellclad
beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three high
narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin, still
shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros far away. Pippin had to
climb on the bench to look out over the deep stone sill.
'Are you angry with me, Gandalf?' he said, as their guide went out and
closed the door. 'I did the best I could.'
'You did indeed!' said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and stood
beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders and gazing out of
the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his
own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard's
face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more
intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of
mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.
'Indeed you did your best,' said the wizard; 'and I hope that it may be
long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between two such
terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you than you may
have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did not lead
the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high honour who
was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men think much
about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long thought
to the rhyme and to the words _Isildur's Bane_, since Boromir went away.
'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his descent
from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs nearly true
in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in Boromir whom
he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his will
thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those that dwell
far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.
'Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know what
put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well done. I did
not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold counsel. It
touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour. And at least
you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith – when you are not
on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command; and he will
not forget. Be wary still!'
He fell silent and sighed. 'Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow may
bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than today, for
many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help it. The
board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly desire to
find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is in the
City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go. Pippin. I must go to
this lords' council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the move, and he
is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much of it as
any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your blade!'
Gandalf went to the door, and there he turned. 'I am in haste Pippin,' he
said. 'Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you are not
too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These people are
kindly to beasts, for they are a good and wise folk, but they have less skill
with horses than some.'
With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of a
clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel. Three strokes it rang,
like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising of the sun.
After a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked
about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the towers and
tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue air Mount
Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to and fro in
the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to changes of
post and duty.
'Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,' said Pippin aloud to himself.
'Just the time for a nice breakfast by the open window in spring sunshine. And
how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it over? And
when do they have dinner, and where?'
Presently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along the
narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin felt lonely
and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need. The man
came straight up to him.
'You are Peregrin the Halfling?' he said. 'I am told that you have been
sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome! He held out his
hand and Pippin took it.
'I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning, and I
have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you some of the
many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I would
learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this land and
though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any tale that
we know. Moreover you are a friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him well?'
'Well,' said Pippin. 'I have known _of_ him all my short life, as you
might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is much to read
in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or two. Yet
perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only one of our
Company, I think, who really knew him.'
'Aragorn?' said Beregond. 'Who is he?'
'Oh,' stammered Pippin, 'he was a man who went about with us. I think he
is in Rohan now.'
'You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you of
that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its people. But
I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would ask. What
would you know, Master Peregrin?'
'Er well,' said Pippin, 'if I may venture to say so, rather a burning
question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and all that? I
mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is the diningroom,
if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see as
we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of ale as soon
as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.'
Beregond looked at him gravely. 'An old campaigner, I see,' he said.
'They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope of food
and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have not yet
eaten today?'
'Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,' said Pippin. 'But no more than a
cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord; but he
racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry work.'
Beregond laughed. 'At the table small men may do the greater deeds, we
say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the Citadel, and with
greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now in posture
of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light, and go to
our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!' He laughed again, seeing
the dismay in Pippin's face. 'Those who have had heavy duty take somewhat to
refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the nuncheon, at noon
or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such mirth as
there still may be, about the hour of sunset.
'Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment, and
eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.'
'One moment!' said Pippin blushing. 'Greed, or hunger by your courtesy,
put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him, asked me to
see to his horse – Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple of the
king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his services.
I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many men, and if
his good will is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax with all
honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if it is
possible.'
'Hobbit?' said Beregond.
'That is what we call ourselves,' said Pippin.
'I am glad to learn it,' said Beregond, 'for now I may say that strange
accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits are a fair-spoken folk. But come!
You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts, and we see
them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the mountain-vales,
and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be short, a mere
call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.'
Pippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in the
sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair stables
where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the errand-riders
of the Lord: messengers always ready to go at the urgent command of Denethor
or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were out and
away.
Shadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head.
'Good morning!' said Pippin. 'Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He is busy,
but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you; and you
resting, I hope, after your long labours.'
Shadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to handle
his head gently and stroke his great flanks.
'He looks as if he were spoiling for a race, and not newly come from a
great journey,' said Beregond. 'How strong and proud he is! Where is his
harness? It should be rich and fair.'
'None is rich and fair enough for him,' said Pippin. 'He will have none.
If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit,
bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have patience.
Battle is coming.'
Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook, and
they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the manger
was well filled.
'And now for our manger,' said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to the
citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower. There they
went down a long cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There were
hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.
'This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard.' said
Beregond. 'Greetings, Targon!' he called through the hatch. 'It is early yet,
but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He has ridden
long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this morning, and he
is hungry. Give us what you have!'
They got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of the
winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of new-drawn
ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket and
climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at the east
end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure in the
walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could look out on
the morning over the world.
They ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and
customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had seen. And
ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with greater wonder
at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or standing
tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below.
'I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,' said Beregond, 'that to us
you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so; and yet
you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards could
boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble page,
after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is not so,
and you must pardon my foolishness.'
'I do,' said Pippin. 'Though you are not far wrong. I am still little
more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be four years
yet before I "come of age", as we say in the Shire: But do not bother about
me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.'
The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been drawn
up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of white
cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now flapping and
tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in the valleybottom,
five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be seen
grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a mighty
sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and shimmer,
far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into the
distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but nowhere could
he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the green
fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines towards the
Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would ride up,
and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the traffic
went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then bending
swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight. It was
wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran a broad green ridingtrack,
and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro, but
all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going south. But
soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were moving in
three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great waggons with
fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim of the
road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
'That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the
mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,' said Beregond. 'There go the last
of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged the children, and the women
that must go with them. They must all be gone from the Gate and the road clear
for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad necessity.' He
sighed. 'Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And there were
always too few children in this city; but now there are none-save some young
lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son is one of
them.'
They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if at
any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields. 'What can I
see there?' he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve of the
Anduin. 'Is that another city, or what is it?'
'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which this
was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of
Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the
days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and
to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the Fell
Riders out of Minas Morgul.'
'The Black Riders?' said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were wide and
dark with an old fear re-awakened.
'Yes, they were black,' said Beregond, 'and I see that you know something
of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.'
'I know of them,' said Pippin softly, 'but I will not speak of them now,
so near, so near.' He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River, and it
seemed to him that all he could see was a vast and threatening shadow. Perhaps
it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges softened by
wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a cloud-wall, and
beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it seemed to his
eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly rising to
smother the regions of the sun.
'So near to Mordor?' said Beregond quietly. 'Yes, there it lies. We
seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow: sometimes it
seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is growing and
darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the Fell
Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many of our best
men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back from this
western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. For a little
while. But we await now a new onslaught there. Maybe the chief onslaught of
the war that comes.'
'When?' said Pippin. 'Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons last night
and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war had begun.
He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have slowed up
again.'
'Only because everything is now ready,' said Beregond. 'It is but the
deep breath before the plunge.'
'But why were the beacons lit last night?'
'It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,' answered
Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his captains. They
have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike other men:
he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in the Tower
at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read somewhat of the
future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy, wrestling
with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But however that
may be, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous errand,
and he may have sent tidings.
'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was the
news that came yestereve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet drawing near
to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the South. They
have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied them with
the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack will draw
off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and Belfalas, where
folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north to Rohan;
and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you bring.
'And yet' – he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east, and
south – 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now in a
great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords, raiding
from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This is a great war
long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say. Things
move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and north in
Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be put to
the test, to stand, or fall – under the Shadow.
'Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt of the
chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the depths of
time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall hardest.
And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we fall, who
shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall stand?'
Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers and
brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the gathering gloom in
the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the orcs in
the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of evil eye,
and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and of the winged
terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither. And even at that
moment the sun for a second faltered and was obscured, as though a dark wing
had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught, high and far
up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold. He
blanched and cowered against the wall.
'What was that?' asked Beregond. 'You also felt something?'
'Yes,' muttered Pippin. 'It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow of
doom, a Fell Rider of the air.'
'Yes, the shadow of doom,' said Beregond. 'I fear that Minas Tirith shall
fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.'
For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak. Then
suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and the
banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. 'It is passed,' he
said. 'No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has returned and is
with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our
knees.'
'Rightly said!' cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro. 'Nay,
though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall not perish
yet. Not though the walls be taken by a reckless foe that will build a hill of
carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret ways of
escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some hidden
valley where the grass is green.'
'All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill.' said Pippin. 'I am no
warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the edge of
one that I can't escape is worst of all. What a long day it seems already! I
should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making no move,
striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I think,
but for Gandalf.'
'Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!' said
Beregond. 'But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold, more bold
than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a captain can
be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and yet a man
of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir. Less
reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what indeed can he
do? We cannot assault the mountains of – of yonder realm. Our reach is
shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then our hand
must be heavy!' He smote the hilt of his sword.
Pippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that he
had yet seen in that land; and with a glitter in his eye as he thought of the
battle. 'Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,' he thought, but he
said nothing. 'A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps but on the wrong chessboard.'
So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the noonbells
were rung, and there was a stir in the citadel; for all save the
watchmen were going to their meal.
'Will you come with me?' said Beregond. 'You may join my mess for this
day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord may hold
you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well to meet
as many men as you may, while there is yet time.'
'I shall be glad to come,' said Pippin. 'I am lonely, to tell you the
truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one to talk to
or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the captain?
If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?'
'Nay, nay,' Beregond laughed, 'I am no captain. Neither office nor rank
nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third Company of the
Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard of the
Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour in the
land.'
'Then it is far beyond me,' said Pippin. 'Take me back to our room, and
if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like – as your guest.'
Gandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin went
with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company. And it
seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for Pippin was
very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about
Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and rumour
declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to offer
allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that when the
Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling warrior, small
maybe, but doughty.
Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could not
be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended by
Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for coming
among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and gave him as
much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to be 'wary'
according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag freely
after the manner of a hobbit among friends.
At length Beregond rose. 'Farewell for this time!' he said. 'I have duty
now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you are lonely,
as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My son would go
with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down to the
lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain, the
Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that are
remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the Great Gate
ere the closing.'
He went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was still
fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so far
southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless, and he
decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that he had
saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the horse seemed
to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely courteous,
saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands upon the
breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors cried to
others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the companion of
Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but it was not
long before he learned at least what was meant by _Ernil i Pheriannath_ and
knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements to
the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the Lampwrights'
Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found the Old
Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings running
back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind which was
the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared porch and
a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the pillars,
the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he stopped to look
at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout he sprang
across the grass and came into the street, followed by several others. There
he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a stranger in
the City.'
'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are you,
and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be five feet. I
am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the tallest. What is
your father?'
'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms the
lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine,
so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any
more, save sideways.'
'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old! As old
as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could stand you on
your head or lay you on your back.'
'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And maybe I
could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little country.
Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I
have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a trial and
nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are older,
you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may
have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am
not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!' Pippin pulled such a grim face
that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with clenched fists
and the light of battle in his eye.
'No!' Pippin laughed. 'Don't believe what strangers say of themselves
either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for the
challenger to say who he is.'
The boy drew himself up proudly. 'I am Bergil son of Beregond of the
Guards,' he said.
'So I thought,' said Pippin, 'for you look like your father. I know him
and he sent me to find you.'
'Then why did you not say so at once?' said Bergil, and suddenly a look
of dismay came over his face. 'Do not tell me that he has changed his mind,
and will send me away with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone.'
'His message is less bad than that, if not good.' said Pippin. 'He says
that if you would prefer it to standing me on my head, you might show me round
the City for a while and cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far
countries in return.'
Bergil clapped his hands, and laughed with relief. 'All is well,' he
cried. 'Come then! We were soon going to the Gate to look on. We will go now.'
'What is happening there?'
'The Captains of the Outlands are expected up the South Road ere sundown.
Come with us and you will see.'
Bergil proved a good comrade, the best company Pippin had had since he
parted from Merry, and soon they were laughing and talking gaily as they went
about the streets, heedless of the many glances that men gave them. Before
long they found themselves in a throng going towards the Great Gate. There
Pippin went up much in the esteem of Bergil, for when he spoke his name and
the pass-word the guard saluted him and let him pass through; and what was
more, he allowed him to take his companion with him.
'That is good!' said Bergil. 'We boys are no longer allowed to pass the
Gate without an elder. Now we shall see better.'
Beyond the Gate there was a crowd of men along the verge of the road and
of the great paved space into which all the ways to Minas Tirith ran. All eyes
were turned southwards, and soon a murmur rose: 'There is dust away there!
They are coming!'
Pippin and Bergil edged their way forward to the front of the crowd, and
waited. Horns sounded at some distance, and the noise of cheering rolled
towards them like a gathering wind. Then there was a loud trumpet-blast, and
all about them people were shouting.
'Forlong! Forlong!' Pippin heard men calling. 'What do they say?' he
asked.
'Forlong has come,' Bergil answered; 'old Forlong the Fat, the Lord of
Lossarnach. That is where my grandsire lives. Hurrah! Here he is. Good old
Forlong!'
Leading the line there came walking a big thick-limbed horse, and on it
sat a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, yet
mail-clad and black-helmed and bearing a long heavy spear. Behind him marched
proudly a dusty line of men, well-armed and bearing great battle-axes; grimfaced
they were, and shorter and somewhat swarthier than any men that Pippin
had yet seen in Gondor.
'Forlong!' men shouted. 'True heart, true friend! Forlong!' But when the
men of Lossarnach had passed they muttered: 'So few! Two hundreds, what are
they? We hoped for ten times the number. That will be the new tidings of the
black fleet. They are sparing only a tithe of their strength. Still every
little is a gain.'
And so the companies came and were hailed and cheered and passed through
the Gate, men of the Outlands marching to defend the City of Gondor in a dark
hour; but always too few, always less than hope looked for or need asked. The
men of Ringló Vale behind the son of their lord, Dervorin striding on foot:
three hundreds. From the uplands of Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale, tall
Duinhir with his sons, Duilin and Derufin, and five hundred bowmen. From the
Anfalas, the Langstrand far away, a long line of men of many sorts, hunters
and herdsmen and men of little villages, scantily equipped save for the
household of Golasgil their lord. From Lamedon, a few grim hillmen without a
captain. Fisher-folk of the Ethir, some
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