White Wizard on a White Horse to the White City with the White Tree and White Throne
5 March 3019, of the Third Age
15 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
Gandalf, Théoden, Éomer, Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, and I gathered in the Golden Hall, Meduseld, the next morning to discuss what had happened when Pippin looked into the glass ball. The palantír, Gandalf called it. Pippin slumped on a stool beside Merry and I, ashamed of standing with the others, the ones who had made no foolish decisions; only honest ones.
"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf began. "A fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring. We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantír a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still -- strength enough, perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of middle earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Rohan are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!"
"Tell me," Théoden said bitterly, "why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"
Gandalf looked at him.
"I will go," Aragorn said.
"No, Gandalf replied.
"They must be warned!" Aragorn persisted.
"They will be," Gandalf said softly. He spoke to Aragorn alone, then announced his plans to us. "Understand this; Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith," Gandalf looked over at Pippin, Merry, and I. We immediately straightened up. "And I won't be going alone."
We started to the stables, where we three trailed behind Gandalf. I tried to ignore Merry and Pippin's endless bickering, but it was unavoidable.
Gandalf cried impatiently behind him. "Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst! Hurry, Hurry!"
"Where are we going?" Pippin asked Merry, but Merry ignored him.
"Why did you look?" He asked angrily. "Why do you always have to look?"
"I don't know. I can't help it…"
"You never can," Merry added nastily.
Pippin stopped, tears springing to his eyes. "I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again!"
Merry stopped too, taking hold of my arm. "Don't you understand? The enemy thinks you have the ring." He looked at me. "They're going to be looking for you, and Pippin. They know your faces. We have to get you out of here." He started off again.
"And…you…you're coming with me?" Pippin cried. "Merry?"
"Come on," Merry said without turning around.
Pippin and I trotted after him, where Gandalf waited with his beautiful, towering white horse. He plucked Pippin up and placed him on Shadowfax's back lightly. Pippin took hold of some wispy hairs of the horse's great mane.
"Where are we going?" Pippin asked. I meant to back away to where Merry stood, but to my utter surprise Gandalf lifted me up to sit in front of Pippin. I hadn't anticipated going with them
"Minas Tirith, Peregrin Took, The Tower of the Guard," Gandalf said.
"And how far to Minas Tirith?"
"Three days' ride, as the Nazghûl flies," he replied. "And we'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail."
Pippin grimaced, but looked down at Merry as he approached. "Here," Merry said, his voice softening. "Something for the road…" He handed Pippin a leathery packet.
"The last of the Longbottom Leaf…" Pippin's words caught in his throat, and I knew he was thinking as I was; of the stores of Isengard and our victory we had celebrated not long ago.
"I know you've run out," Merry continued, doing his best to nag, like a big cousin should. "You smoke too much, Pippin."
"We'll see each other soon…won't we?" Pippin's hands were shaking and he was gaping at Merry, fearful that they would be separated forever.
Merry looked at Gandalf, who mounted behind Pippin, and back at his little cousin. "I don't know," he said, his voice shaking with tears as he stepped backwards, into the shadows. His voice grew weaker as he spoke. "I don't know what's going to happen."
"Merry?" Pippin whispered, his eyes filling with tears as he dug his hands into my waist.
"Run, Shadowfax; show us the meaning of haste," Gandalf said, and the horse snorted.
"MERRY!" Pippin cried, and Shadowfax burst into a full gallop, out of the stables and over Rohan's plains, and Pippin turned back, his eyes puffy and crimson, tears falling one by one to the ground we soon passed. High above the plains, on a watchtower, Merry stood with Aragorn. Pippin and I held each other, hanging our heads, as Shadowfax galloped farther and farther away, until we had come over several hills and turned our course so that we couldn't see the city of Edoras anymore.
Pippin's sobs caught in his throat and he choked and sniffed, his tears hot on the back of my neck as he buried his face into my hair and held me tight.
It wasn't long before our tears of separation had left us completely, and Pippin and I grew drowsy from the rhythmic rocking of the great horse's back, as a mother hobbit might have rocked her baby to sleep in a cradle before he left on treacherous adventures. I found myself in a lovely dream that we had been at Edoras, and Frodo and Sam had come back before Gandalf made Pippin and I go with him. I was running, running to Frodo's arms, welcoming him home, and his bright blue eyes were full of light again as he opened his mouth to say my name, and his face coming clearer and closer. In my dreams I could hear Pippin's voice singing.
"As fleet as a shadow the earth we pass
The world behind us to vanish from sight
Faster we fly, under sun and o'er grass
Not choosing to sleep as day turns to night
Mountains in the distance, valleys below…"
9 March 3019, of the Third Age
19 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
I've heard that song before; my head whispered in my dreams, as dreams sometimes had a way of letting life's petty worries creep in. Though I swear he's got the words wrong. Afleet, like a shadow, the earth we pass...
Soon, Pippin's singing roused me, and I opened my eyes to hear Gandalf cry out above Shadowfax's pounding hooves.
"We've just passed into the realm of Gondor!" We galloped over a stream and up a small hillock, and once we reached the top, Pippin and I stared in awe at what was before us; a magnificent white city built of seven levels into the mountains behind. "Minas Tirith," Gandalf said. "City of Kings."
We flew over the plains easily and rode straight into the city, climbing the many levels one by one, until we had reached the very top and trotted through a large gate of the Citadel Courtyard.
Gandalf dismounted onto the courtyard overlooking the lands we left behind, and helped Pippin and I down as well. As we walked towards a tall tower, Pippin cocked his head at a dead white tree.
"Gandalf…" Pippin exclaimed. "It's the tree! Gandalf!" He tugged at Gandalf's robes.
"Yes, the White Tree of Gondor…The Tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not king. He is a steward only; a caretaker of the throne."
"Mmm…Aragorn's throne…" I said softly.
Pippin nodded excitedly in agreement.
"Now listen carefully," Gandalf said, pausing before the door to speak with us. "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father." I opened my mouth, and Gandalf nodded. "To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise."
Pippin and I exchanged surprised looks and proceeded up one stair before Gandalf paused again. "And do not mention Frodo or the Ring…" He frowned as he stared off into space, and then suddenly he turned back to us. "And say nothing of Aragorn, either. In fact…" Gandalf scratched his head and put one hand on the door. "It's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took. You either, Adamanta."
As we nodded again, the doors opened and we took our first steps into the citadel; a towering white marble hall with two thrones at one end. I felt Pippin's hand brush mine and he squeezed it as we walked together, our little feet making pat-pat-pat-pat noise on the smooth, shining stone. I couldn't help feeling overwhelmed and pathetic, poor and ragged in the eyes of the majestic hall. As we approached the smaller throne, Gandalf knelt on one knee. Pippin and I remained standing, though Pippin meant to bend. I squeezed his hand once to stop him. I would not be made into some kind of lowly servant.
Pride leadeth to a fall, went the old proverb, stuck in my mind. I ignored it.
"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion," He said nobly to the man in thick black robes sitting with his face in his lap, as though grieving. "Lord and Steward of Gondor. I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with counsel."
The black throne that Lord Denethor sat upon was set upon a staircase of white marble which led to a white throne. In his lap, he revealed pieces of a very familiar ox horn.
"The horn of Gondor," I breathed, and Pippin squeezed my hand again.
"Perhaps you come to explain this. Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead," Denethor looked up with piercing eyes, his fleshy lip in an angry grimace.
Pippin and I stared from Gandalf's side. Pippin met my eyes and then looked back at the horn. I knew from his eyes flickering and his restless, sweaty palms that he was flashing back to Amon Hen, when Boromir gave his parting words of sorrow to us and gave his life to defend us. Any harsh words I had against Boromir I immediately gave up, from the image of him being struck with arrows. I shut my eyes and felt Pippin flinch as he released my hand and knelt in front of the Steward, earning a disbelieving and disgusted look from Denethor.
"Boromir died to save us," I said with a quavering voice.
"My kinsman and us," Pippin continued, gesturing at me. "He fell defending us from many foes."
"Pippin!" Gandalf said through gritted teeth, but Pippin did not move. I followed his lead and knelt beside him.
"We offer you our service, such as it is, in payment of this debt," he finished. That, I did not expect, and slighted my head at Pippin. Had he finally lost all control? Simply because a warrior died for us did not mean we should fall to our knees and become slaves for his father!
Pride leadeth to a fall.
If this was our fate, then what would become of great Denethor?
Denethor moved his feet back from our small forms and winced as we spoke. "And this is my first request." The man did not wait for anything, did he? He stared down at Pippin, attempting to speak kindly. "How is it that you, helpless Halflings, escaped, while a great warrior such as Boromir, did not?"
Helpless Halflings. Helpless. I felt a blow strike my heart.
I nudged Pippin to keep him polite, though his voice was cool. He spoke to Denethor's ankles. "A great warrior may be killed by one arrow," Pippin said, and lifted his face to Denethor's. "Boromir was pierced by many."
Gandalf grew annoyed and delivered a light smack to each of our backs. "Get up," he growled. As he walked in front of us (and delivering very angry glances) he said, "My Lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. 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 Théoden of Rohan…Light the beacons!"
Denethor glowered. "You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. 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 Théoden of Rohan…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!"
"Authority is not given you to deny the return of the king, Steward!" Gandalf said sternly.
Denethor rose from the throne and we shrank back. "The rule of Gondor is mine!" He roared. "And no other's!"
Gandalf glared at him, and turned to Pippin and me before strolling out. "Come," he said. "And mind you obey this time."