The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien Read Free Book Online Page A

Guard, one of the tallest. What is your father?’
    ‘Which question shall I answer first?’ said Pippin. ‘My father farms the lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire.
I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways.’
    ‘Twenty-nine!’ said the lad and whistled. ‘Why, you are quite old! As old as my uncle Iorlas. Still,’ he added hopefully,
‘I wager I could stand you on your head or lay you on your back.’
    ‘Maybe you could, if I let you,’ said Pippin with a laugh. ‘And maybe I could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks
in my little country. Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I have never allowed anyone
to stand me on my head. So if it came to a trial and nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are
older, you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may have taken mefor a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!’ Pippin pulled
such a grim face that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with clenched fists and the light of battle in
his eye.
    ‘No!’ Pippin laughed. ‘Don’t believe what strangers say of themselves either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer
in any case for the challenger to say who he is.’
    The boy drew himself up proudly. ‘I am Bergil son of Beregond of the Guards,’ he said.
    ‘So I thought,’ said Pippin, ‘for you look like your father. I know him and he sent me to find you.’
    ‘Then why did you not say so at once?’ said Bergil, and suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. ‘Do not tell me that
he has changed his mind, and will send me away with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone.’
    ‘His message is less bad than that, if not good,’ said Pippin. ‘He says that if you would prefer it to standing me on my head,
you might show me round the City for a while and cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far countries in return.’
    Bergil clapped his hands, and laughed with relief. ‘All is well,’ he cried. ‘Come then! We were soon going to the Gate to
look on. We will go now.’
    ‘What is happening there?’
    ‘The Captains of the Outlands are expected up the South Road ere sundown. Come with us and you will see.’
    Bergil proved a good comrade, the best company Pippin had had since he parted from Merry, and soon they were laughing and
talking gaily as they went about the streets, heedless of the many glances that men gave them. Before long they found themselves
in a throng going towards the Great Gate. There Pippin went up much in the esteem of Bergil, for when he spoke his name and
the pass-word the guard saluted him and let him pass through; and what was more, he allowed him to take his companion with
him.
    ‘That is good!’ said Bergil. ‘We boys are no longer allowed to pass the Gate without an elder. Now we shall see better.’
    Beyond the Gate there was a crowd of men along the verge of the road and of the great paved space into which all the ways
to Minas Tirith ran. All eyes were turned southwards, and soon a murmur rose: ‘There is dust away there! They are coming!’
    Pippin and Bergil edged their way forward to the front of the crowd, and waited. Horns sounded at some distance, and the noise
of cheering rolled towards them like a gathering wind. Then there was a loud trumpet-blast, and all about them people were
shouting.
    ‘Forlong! Forlong!’ Pippin heard men calling. ‘What do they say?’ he asked.
    ‘Forlong has come,’ Bergil answered; ‘old Forlong the Fat, the Lord of Lossarnach. That is where my grandsire lives. Hurrah!
Here he is. Good old Forlong!’
    Leading the line there came walking a big thick-limbed horse, and on it sat a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old
and grey-bearded, yet mail-clad and