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return.txt
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return.txt
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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<!-- __ _ _ _ __| |_ (_)__ _____
/ _` | '_/ _| ' \| |\ V / -_)
\__,_|_| \__|_||_|_| \_/\___| -->
<head>
<title>Full text of "The Lord Of The Rings series"</title>
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"/>
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aria-hidden="true"
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<h1>
Full text of "<a href="/details/TheLordOfTheRing1TheFellowshipOfTheRing">The Lord Of The Rings series</a>"
</h1>
<h2 class="pull-right">
<small><a href="/details/TheLordOfTheRing1TheFellowshipOfTheRing">See other formats</a></small>
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<pre>"trti
“THE LORD OF THE RINGS”
Pjrt Thttt
THE RETURN
OF THE KING
J.R.R.ToIkien
* BOOK V *
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 Anurien 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 Don, and flame on
Eilenach; and there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon,
Calenhad, and the Elalifirien 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 B elf alas 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
Anurien
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
B elf alas, 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 out-thrust 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. Thjoden 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 Thjoden 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 Rhyn. 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 ores.'
'So,' said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face. 'You were there?