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

black-helmed and bearing a long heavy spear. Behind him marched proudly a dusty line of
men, well-armed and bearing great battle-axes; grim-faced they were, and shorter and somewhat swarthier than any men that
Pippin had yet seen in Gondor.
    ‘Forlong!’ men shouted. ‘True heart, true friend! Forlong!’ But when the men of Lossarnach had passed they muttered: ‘So few!
Two hundreds, what are they? We hoped for ten times the number. That will be the new tidings of the black fleet. They are
sparing only a tithe of their strength. Still every little is a gain.’
    And so the companies came and were hailed and cheered and passed through the Gate, men of the Outlands marching to defend
the City of Gondor in a dark hour; but always too few, always less than hope looked for or need asked. The men of Ringló Vale
behind the son of their lord, Dervorin striding on foot: three hundreds. From the uplandsof Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale, tall Duinhir with his sons, Duilin and Derufin, and five hundred bowmen. From the Anfalas,
the Langstrand far away, a long line of men of many sorts, hunters and herdsmen and men of little villages, scantily equipped
save for the household of Golasgil their lord. From Lamedon, a few grim hillmen without a captain. Fisher-folk of the Ethir,
some hundred or more spared from the ships. Hirluin the Fair of the Green Hills from Pinnath Gelin with three hundreds of
gallant green-clad men. And last and proudest, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, kinsman of the Lord, with gilded banners bearing
his token of the Ship and the Silver Swan, and a company of knights in full harness riding grey horses; and behind them seven
hundreds of men at arms, tall as lords, grey-eyed, dark-haired, singing as they came.
    And that was all, less than three thousands full told. No more would come. Their cries and the tramp of their feet passed
into the City and died away. The onlookers stood silent for a while. Dust hung in the air, for the wind had died and the evening
was heavy. Already the closing hour was drawing nigh, and the red sun had gone behind Mindolluin. Shadow came down on the
City.
    Pippin looked up, and it seemed to him that the sky had grown ashen-grey, as if a vast dust and smoke hung above them, and
light came dully through it. But in the West the dying sun had set all the fume on fire, and now Mindolluin stood black against
a burning smoulder flecked with embers. ‘So ends a fair day in wrath!’ he said, forgetful of the lad at his side.
    ‘So it will, if I have not returned before the sundown-bells,’ said Bergil. ‘Come! There goes the trumpet for the closing
of the Gate.’
    Hand in hand they went back into the City, the last to pass the Gate before it was shut; and as they reached the Lampwrights’
Street all the bells in the towers tolled solemnly. Lights sprang in many windows, and from the houses andwards of the men at arms along the walls there came the sound of song.
    ‘Farewell for this time,’ said Bergil. ‘Take my greetings to my father, and thank him for the company that he sent. Come again
soon, I beg. Almost I wish now that there was no war, for we might have had some merry times. We might have journeyed to Lossarnach,
to my grandsire’s house; it is good to be there in spring, the woods and fields are full of flowers. But maybe we will go
thither together yet. They will never overcome our Lord, and my father is very valiant. Farewell and return!’
    They parted and Pippin hurried back towards the citadel. It seemed a long way, and he grew hot and very hungry; and night
closed down swift and dark. Not a star pricked the sky. He was late for the daymeal in the mess, and Beregond greeted him
gladly, and sat him at his side to hear news of his son. After the meal Pippin stayed a while, and then took his leave, for
a strange gloom was on him, and now he desired very much to see Gandalf again.
    ‘Can you find your way?’ said Beregond at the door of the small