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Chapter 30
They rode on through, the mountains, forests, and plains; only stopping long enough to water the horses and take a drink themselves and as they came upon a hilltop, they stopped and took in the site of the white stone city in the distance. "Minas Tirith, city of Kings," Gandalf said.
"And a city with an ailing Steward," Carita said quietly and Pippin and Gandalf looked at her. "The soon we get there the better." She looked at them and Gandalf nodded. Pippin still looked worried, but she only gave him a small smile before they urged the horses on. Soon, they were upon the gate and they charged into the city.
"Make way!" Gandalf shouted as they charged on for the people on the street to move aside. Men, women, and children parted and looked at them with curiosity as they watched Gandalf and Carita ride past. They reached the top level and rode into the courtyard and as they slowed and came to a stop. They dismounted and guards approached leading Moonlight and Shadowfax away, and they slowly made their way to the large doors to the Citadel. Carita put her left hand on the hilt of her sword as they past the dead white tree and its four guards and as they did so she heard Pippin gasp.
"It's the tree," Pippin said quietly. "Gandalf! Carita!" he called as he ran up to them after he had stopped.
"Yes, the white tree of Gondor," Gandalf said. "The tree of the king. Lord Denethor, however, is not king. He is a steward only; a caretaker of the throne." They stopped at the base of the stairs that led to the door and Gandalf looked down at Pippin. "Now listen carefully. Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise. And do not mention Frodo, or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn, either. In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took." Gandalf turned his eyes to Carita and she drew the hood of her cloak over her head. "I trust you to mind any words you say. Denethor will not head any words given by a woman, no matter her station," Gandalf said.
"Aye, I will mind them," she said quietly and Gandalf sighed before he started up the stairs with Pippin slowly following and Carita taking up the rear of the party. They walked inside and Carita was not surprised to find Denethor sitting upon his Steward's chair. Something told her the man never strayed far from it.
"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor. I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with counsel," Gandalf said as they grew closer to the aging man, who looked angry, lost, and confused.
"Perhaps you come to explain this," Denethor said as he opened his hands that covered his lap and revealed the broken pieces of the Horn of Gondor; the horn Boromir had blown to call for aid as they fought, the horn they had placed in his funeral boat when the sent him down the river. "Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead."
"Your son died valiantly, my lord," Carita said and Gandalf looked at her. "Know that." Denethor settled his slightly crazed eyes on her, but before he could speak to her Pippin spoke up.
"Boromir died to save us, my kinsman and me. He fell defending us from many foes," Pippin said quickly and Denethor turned his eyes to the small hobbit Gandalf's eyes snapped to him.
"Pippin!" Gandalf warned sternly, but the hobbit continued on as he kneeled down on one knee before Denethor. Carita took a sharp breath and only watched with wide eyes.
"I offer you my service, such as it is, in payment of this debt," Pippin said and Carita shook her head when she saw Denethor's smile. It was not a warmth filled smile and that worried her even more.
"This is my first command to you," Denethor said. "How did you escape and my son did not, so mighty a man as he was?" Pippin looked at Denethor. Carita willed the hobbit not to speak, but of course he spoke.
"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow, and Boromir was pierced by many," Pippin said. Gandalf sighed annoyed and struck Pippin with hi staff.
"Get up," Gandalf hissed and Pippin slowly moved to his feet. Denethor sat in his chair, his head in his hand as his eyes were trained on the broken horn in his lap. "My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now." At that Denethor looked up and at Gandalf. "War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send to word to Theoden of Rohan. Light the beacons." Denethor sneered at Gandalf.
"You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom," Denethor hissed and Carita's eyes narrowed. "Do you think the eyes of the white tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor, and with the right you'd seek to supplant me. I know who rides with Theoden of Rohan," Denethor hissed and Gandalf only looked at him, showing no emotion on his face. "Oh yes, the word has reached my ears of this Aragorn son of Arathorn; and I tell you now, I will not bow to this ranger from the North. Last of a ragged house, long bereft of lordship."
"The man you speak of is my friend, my lord," Carita nearly spat and Denethor looked at her his own eyes narrowed. "I suggest you mind your words." Denethor looked ready to cast her into a fire, but Gandalf drew Denethor's anger onto him.
"Authority is not given you to deny the return of the king, Steward," Gandalf said and Denethor stood from his seat, the pieces of the broken horn falling to the floor.
"The rule of Gondor is mine and no others!" Denethor shouted, his voice echoing off the white stone walls of the citadel. Gandalf sighed heavily and shook his head.
"Come!" Gandalf said to Pippin and Carita as he turned and walked from the Citadel. Carita turned around to follow the white wizard but not before she sent a scathing look to Denethor. The man only looked at her, his anger still fresh in his eyes. She sighed quietly and looked ahead as she followed Gandalf and Pippin from the Citadel. "All has turned to vain ambition. He would even use his grief as a cloak." They exited the Citadel and walked down the steps and started to the White Tree. "A thousand years this city has stood. Now, at the whim of a madman, it will fall. And the White Tree, the tree of the king, will never bloom again." Pippin looked up at the tree and then at the Guards whose faces were blocked.
"Why are they still guarding it?" Pippin asked and Carita lowered her hood as she put her hand on his shoulder as they past the guards.
"They have hope," she told him and Pippin glanced at him before Gandalf continued on.
"They have a faint and fading hope that one day it will flower," Gandalf said as they walked on. Carita lowered her hand from Pippin as they neared the edge of the long walk out and looked down at the city below. "That a king will come and this city will be as it once was, before it fell into decay. The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their descent, dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls, musing on heraldry, or in high, cold towers, asking questions of the stars, and so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The White Tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."
"Given to men who grew more power hungry with each generation," Carita said. "Given to men who saw themselves as kings though it was not there line to carry." Gandalf sighed quietly and said nothing, but silently he agreed. The orange burning sky in the distance caught there attention and Carita took a deep breath. She found it funny that she used to think she would never look upon that darkness again.
"Mordor," Pippin said quietly and Gandalf nodded.
"Yes, there it lies. This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow," Gandalf said.
"Ever since Sauron took his place there," Carita said and Pippin glanced at her before he looked at Mordor once again. The dark clouds swirled around the orange flames and he frowned.
"A storm is coming," Pippin said and Carita shook her head, but Gandalf answered.
"This is not the weather of the world," Gandalf said. "This is a device of Sauron's making a broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the Shadow of Mordor reaches the city, it will begin."
"Sauron's wrath will be upon Gondor at full strength," Carita said.
"Well, Minas Tirith; very impressive. So where are we off to next?" Pippin asked brushing their words aside and hoping Gandalf's next words would be that they would be going back to Rohan. Gandalf shook his head and looked at him.
"Oh, it's too late for that, Peregrin," Gandalf said and Pippin's smile fell from his face. "There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us." Gandalf started to walk away and Pippin looked at Mordor with fear on his face. Carita moved over to him.
"Don't be afraid, Pippin," Carita said and he looked at her. "We have some time, aid will come if Gandalf finds a way to send word for it."
"What if he can't?" Pippin asked and Carita gave him a sad smile.
"Then we face our enemy head on," she said and Pippin swallowed hard before he looked back at Mordor. Carita followed his gaze and she took a deep breath. She just hoped that Gandalf found a way to get the beacons lit.
Legolas sighed as he walked around Edoras. He was restless and had been since Carita had rode off with Gandalf and Pippin nearly four days earlier. The sun was setting over the sitting and he was not surprised to find Aragorn sitting on top of the stairs of the Golden Hall, his pipe in hand.
"Walking around the city will do you no good," Aragorn teased as Legolas started to walk up the steps and towards him.
"I know that, but I have no desire to sit idle and wait for word," Legolas said as he stopped next to Aragorn and looked towards the beacon he knew rested far away on the mountain top.
"Fate is a funny thing," Aragorn said quietly and Legolas looked at him. Aragorn looked up at Legolas as he lowered his pipe and Legolas frowned. "Who knew that you were fated?" he asked as he stood and met Legolas' eyes evenly. "There isn't much else in this world that can take a man's, or elf's, mind from battle other than the woman, or Maia, they love. Who would have known that you find your fate on a journey such as ours?" he asked and Legolas smiled as he looked down at the steps and then back at him.
"You are not the only one surprised by that fact," Legolas breathed. "There is more to her than any of us know, even myself." Aragorn frowned. "You know that it is true, but I love her anyway; stubbornness and all." Aragorn chuckled and nodded his head as he raised his pipe to his lips. He turned his gray eyes to the mountain tops.
"Do you think her stubbornness will move mountains?" Aragorn asked as he lowered his pipe and Legolas sighed.
"Let us hope that hers and Gandalf's can," Legolas said and the pair remained where they stood for a moment longer looking off towards the unlit beacons.