Only they didn't get any talking done on the ride up to the citadel after all, for as they left the square, with Gandalf and Faramir riding side by side, the people on the street raised a cheer that made the Man and Pippin both start and Gandalf smile as if well pleased.
The clamor continued all the way up the City. Pippin, buoyed up by the resounding relief and joy, grinned and waved cheerfully. Lord Faramir seemed very much surprised and deeply moved, judging by the tears in his eyes and slightly stiff way he bowed his acknowledgement. But Gandalf accepted the ovation as easily as he did applause for his fireworks.
Pippin heard the people cry the name Faramir, and Mithrandir too, but they also called out a longer, more complicated name that he couldn't quite make out.
"What's that they're saying, Gandalf? ernie ferryeth or something like that."
"Ernil i Pherianath." the wizard replied, eyes glinting, "means 'Prince of the Halflings' for such they take you to be, Peregrin Took."
"You don't say!" for a moment Pippin was a little dismayed, then shrugged it aside. No doubt the mistake would straighten itself out in due time
The Lady Idril met them at the top of the steps to the Court of the Tree, very grand in wine red with a massy jewelry of of ruby and pearl, including a diadem atop her veil. "Our father asks that you wait upon him at once," she said to Faramir.
"Such was my intention." he answered. "I bring grave news, Idril."
"None we might not guess without your telling, I suspect." she answered briskly and turned to Gandalf: "My father asks that you attend him as well, my Lord
Mithrandir, for he would seek your council."
The wizard gave a little snort of disbelief then took Faramir, who didn't seem entirely steady on his feet, by the arm and guided him towards the Hall.
Pippin would have followed had Idril not pinned him to the spot with a stern stare. "As for you, Peregrin Took, have you forgotten you're to make your oath to the Lord Steward in less than an hour?"
In fact he had and his face showed it eloquently. Idril visibly suppressed a smile and held out her hand. "Come with me, Little Master, we must arm you."
She led him back to the lodgings he shared with Gandalf with the four other Women from yesterday trailing behind them. "I will stand as your sponsor," Idril explained when they reached his chamber, ""Mithrandir and my father are not friends, as no doubt you've gathered, and the less he's reminded of your connection with our visiting wizard the better." Behind her the other Women took the arms and armor Pippin had piled on the table the night before and laid them out neatly on the bed.
"Remove those odd garments of yours if you please," said the Lady.
"Uh - er…" Pippin stammered, gravely taken aback.
Idril laughed. "The upper ones only, you may retain the shirt and breeches."
Greatly relieved Pippin pulled off his coat and started untying his scarf.
"It is the custom of our country for ladies to arm squire or knight before he gives oath," she explained. "Is it otherwise in your land, Prince Peregrin?"
"Er...I really couldn't say," he stammered. "We Hobbits don't make much use of arms as a rule, barring bow and arrow for hunting and the like."
"A happy land," she commented and looked at him thoughtfully. "How did you come to leave it, Prince?"
"I'm not a prince," Pippin said quickly. "I really don't know how that notion got round - I'm sure I never said anything of the kind."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "My kinsman Hurin told me you were heir to the Lord of the Halfling Country."
"I -" Pippin began, paused to think then said with a note of surprise in his voice:
"You know, I suppose he's right at that. My father's the Thain - as we call it - and he stands for the King who's gone and leads the Shire muster at need and the
like."
"Then he is your lord." Idril said. One of her Women handed her a long tunic of quilted black leather with sleeves made of tiny metal rings, rather like what Boromir had worn. She helped him on with it. Over it went a long black surcoat with the white tree embroidered on the chest and silver decorating the hems. Then there were black gloves and armguards like Boromir's, of tooled leather
decorated with gold, as was the sword belt. The Lady got down on her knees to buckle it around him then kissed him on the cheek.
"And that is customary too." She said, laughing at his startled expression and got to her feet. "Your sword interests me, Pippin." She continued taking it from one of the women. "It has the look of Dunedain work. Where did you come by it?"
Now there was an awkward question. "Strider, one of our companions, a Ranger of the North, gave it to me," Pippin answered carefully.
Idril showed him a design of stars and a sword etched on the blade. "This is the device of the House of the Black Sword, descended from Turin Turambar, who had their seat long ago in the North." (1)
"Oh… er... is it?" Pippin stammered. "I'm afraid I don't know how Strider came by it." He doubted she believed him but she put the sword back in its sheath and handed it over.
He hung it from his new belt and the Lady took his Elf dagger from her Woman. "This is not the work of Men at all - Elf made?"
Pippin nodded. "It was parting gift from the Lady of Lorien." That caused a flutter among Idril's Women and even she looked startled for a passing instant. "You have guested in the Golden Wood? You must tell me about it sometime -" then she shot a look at the clock above the bed, "But not now! Come, Peregrin, we must hurry. It
wouldn't do to be late."
...
Gandalf brushed past them on his way out with a face like a thunderstorm as they came into the Hall. Pippin winced and he heard the Lady sigh with something very like exasperation.
Denethor was standing in front of his black throne, washed and shaved and looking very different from yesterday, he even smiled at Pippin. Lord Faramir was off to the side looking bleak and unhappy and the tension in the room tingled like sleet on Pippin's skin. The three of them, Faramir, Denethor and Gandalf, must have just had a terrible fight. He wondered what about.
Pippin stopped when Idril's hand tightened on his shoulder, some paces short of the dais, and bowed. Denethor bowed back.
"My Lord," Idril said in a clear voice that rang the length of the big room without being in the least loud, "I bring before you Peregrin, son of Paladin Lord of the Land of the Halfings, who asks leave to enter the service of the White Tower."
"Welcome Peregrin son of Paladin of the Halflings." Denethor answered. "I thank you for your offer and accept it gladly. For we will have need of all folk of courage and good will, great or small, in the days to come." Denethor sat down on his throne and looked at Pippin expectantly.
Idril pressed down on his shoulder and he knelt feeling totally foolish but determined, and began to recite the words she'd taught him: "Here do I swear fealty
and service to Gondor, in peace or war, in living or dying, from..." for a heart stopping moment he couldn't remember what came next, then he did: "from
this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me." The solemnity of those last words made him feel very suddenly very sober indeed, and a little frightened.
"And I shall not forget it!" Denethor stood up and came down from his throne to stand right in front of Pippin. "Nor fail to reward that which is given." The Steward put his hand under Pippin's nose and remembering his instructions Pippin kissed the ring on it. Denethor cupped his chin and tilted his face upward so their eyes met. He was not, Pippin saw, taking this swearing entirely seriously, (and who could blame him?) but Denethor's amusement was not unkind as he finished the formula: "Fealty with love, valor with honor," he released Pippin and shot a cool look at his son, "Disloyalty with vengeance."
Oh dear. Pippin stood rather unhappily sensing the argument, whatever it was, between Faramir and his father was about to break out again. Denethor went to
sit at a table set up nearby and laid for a meal. Faramir didn't move.
Pippin looked uncertainly at Idril, now standing to the left of the throne with her Women behind her, for instructions. She signed for him to stand but stay where he was.
"I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses, defenses that your brother long held intact." Denethor said, not looking at Faramir as he loaded his plate with fruit and cold meats.
"What would you have me do?" his son asked quietly.
"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken." was the crisp reply. Idril frowned at her father.
Faramir said flatly; "My Lord, Osgiliath is overrun."
Denethor didn't seem to care. "Much must be risked in war." he gave Faramir another cold look. "Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his
lord's will?"
The tension between the two Men was palpable. Pippin wondered why they were they so angry with each other. Nor did Idril look happy with either.
Faramir said with pain in his voice. "You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived."
Pippin winced. That was just the wrong thing to say. Didn't Faramir know how his father was sure to answer, angry as he was just now?
Yet the father did hesitate for a moment before the words came out softly, almost reluctantly. "Yes, I wish that."
'No you don't.'Pippin thought. He looked at Faramir and his heart sank. Clearly the son did believe the father meant it. Tears stood in his eyes.
"Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead." Faramir said. He bowed, turned to leave and paused. "If I should return, think better of me, Father."
And Denethor replied, without looking up: "That will depend on the manner of your return."
Pippin stood still. He wanted desperately run after Faramir as he started down the long hall, or to pull at Denethor's sleeve and beg them both not to part like this, not now when any parting might be forever. But he didn't move. It wasn't his place.
Idril was not so bound. She shot her father a darkling look that reminded Pippin sharply of Strider, then swept after her brother followed by her inevitable bevy of shadows. Leaving Pippin alone in the grand, white stone hall with a clutch of silent, statue-like Menservants and a father pretending he didn't care he'd just broken his son's heart.
...
1. In my Movieverse AU the swords Aragorn gives the Hobbits at Weathertop came originally from the armory of his kinswoman Aranel, Lady of the House of the Black Sword.