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you have given me。'
'Do as you will； Master Halfling；' said Denethor。 'But my life is broken。 Send for my servants！'
He turned back to Faramir。
Pippin left him and called for the servants； and they came： six men of the household； strong and
fair； yet they trembled at the summons。 But in a quiet voice Denethor bade them lay warm coverlets
on Faramir's bed and take it up。 And they did so； and lifting up the bed they bore it from the
chamber。 Slowly they paced to trouble the fevered man as little as might be； and Denethor； now
bending on a staff； followed them； and last came Pippin。
Out from the White Tower they walked； as if to a funeral； out into the darkness； where the
overhanging cloud was lit beneath with flickers of dull red。 Softly they paced the great courtyard；
and at a word from Denethor halted beside the Withered Tree。
All was silent； save for the rumour of war in the City down below； and they heard the water
dripping sadly from the dead branches into the dark pool。 Then they went on through the Citadel
gate； where the sentinel stared at them in wonder and dismay as they passed by。 Turning westward
they came at length to a door in the rearward wall of the sixth circle。 Fen Hollen it was called； for it
was kept ever shut save at times of funeral； and only the Lord of the City might use that way； or
those who bore the token of the tombs and tended the houses of the dead。 Beyond it went a winding
road that descended in many curves down to the narrow land under the shadow of Mindolluin's
precipice where stood the mansions of the dead Kings and of their Stewards。
A porter sat in a little house beside the way； and with fear in his eyes he came forth bearing a
lantern in his hand。 At the Lord's mand he unlocked the door； and silently it swung back； and
they passed through； taking the lantern from his hand。 It was dark on the climbing road between
ancient walls and many…pillared balusters looming in the swaying lantern…beam。 Their slow feet
echoed as they walked down； down； until at last they came to the Silent Street； Rath Dínen；
between pale domes and empty halls and images of men long dead； and they entered into the House
of the Stewards and set down their burden。
There Pippin； staring uneasily about him； saw that he was in a wide vaulted chamber； draped as
it were with the great shadows that the little lantern threw upon its shrouded walls。 And dimly to be
seen were many rows of tables； carved of marble； and upon each table lay a sleeping form； hands
folded； head pillowed upon stone。 But one table near at hand stood broad and bare。 Upon it at a sign
from Denethor they laid Faramir and his father side by side； and covered them with one covering；
and stood then with bowed heads as mourners beside a bed of death。 Then Denethor spoke in a low
voice。
'Here we will wait；' he said。 'But send not for the embalmers。 Bring us wood quick to burn； and
lay it all about us； and beneath； and pour oil upon it。 And when I bid you thrust in a torch。 Do this
and speak no more to me。 Farewell！'
'By your leave； lord！' said Pippin and turned and fled in terror from the deathly house。 'Poor
Faramir！' he thought。 'I must find Gandalf。 Poor Faramir！ Quite likely he needs medicine more than
tears。 Oh； where can I find Gandalf？ In the thick of things； I suppose； and he will have no time to
spare for dying men or madmen。'
At the door he turned to one of the servants who had remained on guard there。 'Your master is
not himself；' he said。 'Go slow！ Bring no fire to this place while Faramir lives！ Do nothing until
Gandalf es！'
'Who is the master of Minas Tirith？' the man answered。 'The Lord Denethor or the Grey
Wanderer？'
'The Grey Wanderer or no one； it would seem；' said Pippin； and he sped back and up the
winding way as swiftly as his feet would carry him； past the astonished porter； out through the door；
and on； till he came near the gate of the Citadel。 The sentinel hailed him as he went by； and he
recognized the voice of Beregond。
'Whither do you run； Master Peregrin？' he cried。
'To find Mithrandir；' Pippin answered。
'The Lord's errands are urgent and should not be hindered by me；' said Beregond； 'but tell me
quickly； if you may： what goes forward？ Whither has my Lord gone？ I have just e on duty； but
I heard that he passed towards the Closed Door； and men were bearing Faramir before him。'
'Yes；' said Pippin； 'to the Silent Street。'
Beregond bowed his head to hide his tears。 'They said that he was dying；' he sighed； 'and now he
is dead。'
'No；' said Pippin； 'not yet。 And even now his death might be prevented； I think。 But the Lord of
the City； Beregond； has fallen before his city is taken。 He is fey and dangerous。' Quickly he told of
Denethor's strange words and deeds。 'I must find Gandalf at once。'
'Then you must go down to the battle。'
'I know。 The Lord has given me leave。 But； Beregond； if you can； do something to stop any
dreadful thing happening。'
'The Lord does not permit those who wear the black and silver to leave their post for any cause；
save at his own mand。'
'Well； you must choose between orders and the life of Faramir；' said Pippin。 'And as for orders； I
think you have a madman to deal with； not a lord。 I must run。 I will return if I can。'
He ran on； down； down towards the outer city。 Men flying back from the burning passed him；
and some seeing his livery turned and shouted； but he paid no heed。 At last he was through the
Second Gate； beyond which great fires leaped up between the walls。 Yet it seemed strangely silent。
No noise or shouts of battle or din of arms could be heard。 Then suddenly there was a dreadful cry
and a great shock； and a deep echoing boom。 Forcing himself on against a gust of fear and horror
that shook him almost to his knees。 Pippin turned a corner opening on the wide place behind the
City Gate。 He stopped dead。 He had found Gandalf； but he shrank back； cowering into a shadow。
Ever since the middle night the great assault had gone on。 The drums rolled。 To the north and to
the south pany upon pany of the enemy pressed to the walls。 There came great beasts； like
moving houses in the red and fitful light； the _m？makil_ of the Harad dragging through the lanes
amid the fires huge towers and engines。 Yet their Captain cared not greatly what they did or how
many might be slain： their purpose was only to test the strength of the defence and to keep the men
of Gondor busy in many places。 It was against the Gate that he would throw his heaviest weight。
Very strong it might be； wrought of steel and iron； and guarded with towers and bastions of
indomitable stone； yet it was the key； the weakest point in all that high and impenetrable wall。
The drums rolled louder。 Fires leaped up。 Great engines crawled across the field； and in the
midst was a huge ram； great as a forest…tree a hundred feet in length； swinging on mighty chains。
Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor； and its hideous head； founded of black
steel； was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf； on it spells of ruin lay。 Grond they named it； in
memory of the Hammer of the Underworld of old。 Great beasts drew it； Orcs surrounded it； and
behind walked mountain…trolls to wield it。
But about the Gate resistance still was stout； and there the knights of Dol Amroth and the
hardiest of the garrison stood at bay。 Shot and dart fell thick； siege…towers crashed or blazed
suddenly like torches。 All before the walls on either side of the Gate the ground was choked with
wreck and with bodies of the slain； yet still driven as by a madness more and more came up。
Grond crawled on。 Upon its housing no fire would catch； and though now and again some great
beast that hauled it would go mad and spread stamping ruin among the orcs innumerable that
guarded it； their bodies were cast aside from its path and others took their place。
Grond crawled on。 The drums rolled wildly。 Over the hills of slain a hideous shape appeared： a
horseman； tall； hooded； cloaked in black。 Slowly； trampling the fallen； he rode forth； heeding no
longer any dart。 He halted and held up a long pale sword。 And as he did so a great fear fell on all；
defender and foe alike； and the hands of men drooped to their sides； and no bow sang。 For a
moment all was still。
The drums rolled and rattled。 With a vast rush Grond was hurled forward by huge hands。 It
reached the Gate。 It swung。 A deep boom rumbled through the City like thunder running in the
clouds。 But the doors of iron and posts of steel withstood the stroke。
Then the Black Captain rose in his stirrups and cried aloud in a dreadful voice； speaking in some
forgotten tongue words of power and terror to rend both heart and stone。
Thrice he cried。 Thrice the great ram boomed。 And suddenly upon the last stroke the Gate of
Gondor broke。 As if stricken by some blasting spell it burst asunder： there was a flash of searing
lightning； and the doors tumbled in riven fragments to the ground。
In rode the Lord of the Nazg？l。 A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up；
grown to a vast menace of despair。 In rode the Lord of the Nazg？l； under the archway that no
enemy ever yet had passed； and all fled before his face。
All save one。 There waiting； silent and still in the space before the Gate； sat Gandalf upon
Shadowfax： Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror； unmoving；
steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dínen。
'You cannot enter here；' said Gandalf； and the huge shadow halted。 'Go back to the abyss
prepared for you！ Go back！ Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master。 Go！'
The Black Rider flung back his hood； and behold！ he had a kingly crown； and yet upon no head
visible was it set。 The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark。 From a
mouth unseen there came a deadly laughter。
'Old fool！' he said。 'Old fool！ This is my hour。 Do you not know Death when you see it？ Die now
and curse in vain！' And with that he lifted high his sword and flames ran down the blade。
Gandalf did not move。 And in that very moment； away behind in some courtyard of the City； a
cock crowed。 Shrill and clear he crowed； recking nothing of wizardry or war； weling only the
morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was ing with the dawn。
And as if in answer there came from far away another note。 Horns； horns； horns。 In dark
Mindolluin's sides they dimly echoed。 Great horns of the North wildly blowing。 Rohan had e at
last。
_Chapter 5_
The Ride of the Rohirrim
It was dark and Merry could see nothing as he lay on the ground rolled in a blanket； yet though
the night was airless and windless； all about him hidden trees were sighing softly。 He lifted his head。
Then he heard it again： a sound like faint drums in the wooded hills and mountain…steps。 The throb
would cease suddenly and then be taken up again at some other point； now nearer； now further off。
He wondered if the watchmen had heard it。
He could not see them； but he knew that all round him were the panies of the Rohirrim。 He
could smell the horses in the dark； and could hear their shiftings and their soft stamping on the
needle…covered ground。 The host was bivouacked in the pine…woods that clustered about Eilenach
Beacon； a tall hill standing up from the long ridges of the Drúadan Forest that lay beside the great
road in East Anórien。
Tired as he was Merry could not sleep。 He had ridden now for four days on end； and the ever…
deepening gloom had slowly weighed down his heart。 He began to wonder why he had been so
eager to e； when he had been given every excuse； even his lord's mand； to stay behind。 He
wondered； too； if the old King knew that he had been disobeyed and was angry。 Perhaps not。 There
seemed to be some understanding between Dernhelm and Elfhelm； the Marshal who manded
the _éored_ in which they were riding。 He and all his men ignored Merry and pretended not to hear
if h