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lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it？ Then we
may feel that our vigil was not fruitless； though it may have been thankless。'
Pippin's heart sank。 He did not relish the idea of singing any song of the Shire to the Lord of
Minas Tirith； certainly not the ic ones that he knew best； they were too； well； rustic for such an
occasion。 He was however spared the ordeal for the present。 He was not manded to sing。
Denethor turned to Gandalf； asking questions about the Rohirrim and their policies； and the
position of éomer； the king's nephew。 Pippin marvelled at the amount that the Lord seemed to
know about a people that lived far away； though it must； he thought； be many years since Denethor
himself had ridden abroad。
Presently Denethor waved to Pippin and dismissed him again for a while。 'Go to the armouries
of the Citadel；' he said； 'and get you there the livery and gear of the Tower。 It will be ready。 It was
manded yesterday。 Return when you are clad！'
It was as he said； and Pippin soon found himself arrayed in strange garments； all of black and
silver。 He had a small hauberk； its rings forged of steel； maybe； yet black as jet； and a high…crowned
helm with small raven…wings on either side； set with a silver star in the centre of the circlet。 Above
the mail was a short surcoat of black； but broidered on the breast in silver with the token of the Tree。
His old clothes were folded and put away； but he was permitted to keep the grey cloak of Lórien；
though not to wear it when on duty。 He looked now； had he known it； verily _Ernil i Pheriannath_；
the Prince of the Halflings； that folk had called him； but he felt unfortable。 And the gloom
began to weigh on his spirits。
It was dark and dim all day。 From the sunless dawn until evening the heavy shadow had
deepened； and all hearts in the City were oppressed。 Far above a great cloud streamed slowly
westward from the Black Land； devouring light； borne upon a wind of war； but below the air was
still and breathless； as if all the Vale of Anduin waited for the onset of a ruinous storm。
About the eleventh hour； released at last for a while from service。 Pippin came out and went in
search of food and drink to cheer his heavy heart and make his task of waiting more supportable。 In
the messes he met Beregond again； who had just e from an errand over the Pelennor out to the
Guard…towers upon the Causeway。 Together they strolled out to the walls； for Pippin felt
imprisoned indoors； and stifled even in the lofty citadel。 Now they sat side by side again in the
embrasure looking eastward； where they had eaten and talked the day before。
It was the sunset…hour； but the great pall had now stretched far into the West； and only as it sank
at last into the Sea did the Sun escape to send out a brief farewell gleam before the night； even as
Frodo saw it at the Cross…roads touching the head of the fallen king。 But to the fields of the
Pelennor； under the shadow of Mindolluin； there came no gleam： they were brown and drear。
Already it seemed years to Pippin since he had sat there before； in some half…forgotten time
when he had still been a hobbit； a light…hearted wanderer touched little by the perils he had passed
through。 Now he was one small soldier in a city preparing for a great assault； clad in the proud but
sombre manner of the Tower of Guard。
In some other time and place Pippin might have been pleased with his new array； but he knew
now that he was taking part in no play； he was in deadly earnest the servant of a grim master in the
greatest peril。 The hauberk was burdensome； and the helm weighed upon his head。 His cloak he had
cast aside upon the seat。 He turned his tired gaze away from the darkling fields below and yawned；
and then he sighed。
'You are weary of this day？' said Beregond。
'Yes；' said Pippin； 'very： tired out with idleness and waiting。 I have kicked my heels at the door
of my master's chamber for many slow hours； while he has debated with Gandalf and the Prince
and other great persons。 And I'm not used； Master Beregond； to waiting hungry on others while
they eat。 It is a sore trial for a hobbit； that。 No doubt you will think I should feel the honour more
deeply。 But what is the good of such honour？ Indeed what is the good even of food and drink under
this creeping shadow？ What does it mean？ The very air seems thick and brown！ Do you often have
such glooms when the wind is in the East？'
'Nay；' said Beregond； 'this is no weather of the world。 This is some device of his malice； some
broil of fume from the Mountain of Fire that he sends to darken hearts and counsel。 And so it doth
indeed。 I wish the Lord Faramir would return。 He would not be dismayed。 But now； who knows if
he will ever e back across the River out of the Darkness？'
'Yes；' said Pippin； 'Gandalf； too； is anxious。 He was disappointed。 I think； not to find Faramir
here。 And where has he got to himself？ He left the Lord's council before the noon…meal； and in no
good mood either； I thought。 Perhaps he has some foreboding of bad news。'
Suddenly as they talked they were stricken dumb； frozen as it were to listening stones。 Pippin
cowered down with his hands pressed to his ears； but Beregond； who had been looking out from the
battlement as he spoke of Faramir； remained there； stiffened； staring out with starting eyes。 Pippin
knew the shuddering cry that he had heard： it was the same that he had heard long ago in the
Marish of the Shire； but now it was grown in power and hatred； piercing the heart with a poisonous
despair。
At last Beregond spoke with an effort。 'They have e！' he said。 'Take courage and look！ There
are fell things below。'
Reluctantly Pippin climbed on to the seat and looked out over the wall。 The Pelennor lay dim
beneath him； fading away to the scarce guessed line of the Great River。 But now wheeling swiftly
across it； like shadows of untimely night； he saw in the middle airs below him five birdlike forms；
horrible as carrion…fowl yet greater than eagles； cruel as death。 Now they swooped near； venturing
almost within bowshot of the walls； now they circled away。
'Black Riders！' muttered Pippin。 'Black Riders of the air！ But see； Beregond！' he cried。 'They are
looking for something； surely？ See how they wheel and swoop； always down to that point over
there！ And can you see something moving on the ground？ Dark little things。 Yes； men on horses：
four or five。 Ah！ I cannot stand it！ Gandalf！ Gandalf save us！'
Another long screech rose and fell； and he threw himself back again from the wall； panting like
a hunted animal。 Faint and seemingly remote through that shuddering cry he heard winding up from
below the sound of a trumpet ending on a long high note。
'Faramir！ The Lord Faramir！ It is his call！' cried Beregond。 'Brave heart！ But how can he win to
the Gate； if these foul hell…hawks have other weapons than fear？ But look！ They hold on。 They will
make the Gate。 No！ the horses are running mad。 Look！ the men are thrown； they are running on
foot。 No； one is stil