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1058 the <strong>return</strong> of the king<br />

Suddenly as they talked they were stricken dumb, frozen<br />

as it were to listening stones. Pippin cowered down with his<br />

hands pressed to his ears; but Beregond, who had been looking<br />

out from the battlement as he spoke of Faramir, remained<br />

there, stiffened, staring out with starting eyes. Pippin knew<br />

the shuddering cry that he had heard: it was the same that he<br />

had heard long ago in the Marish of the Shire, but now it<br />

was grown in power and hatred, piercing the heart with a<br />

poisonous despair.<br />

At last Beregond spoke with an effort. ‘They have come!’<br />

he said. ‘Take courage and look! There are fell things below.’<br />

Reluctantly Pippin climbed on to the seat and looked out<br />

over the wall. The Pelennor lay dim beneath him, fading<br />

away to the scarce guessed line of the Great River. But now<br />

wheeling swiftly across it, like shadows of untimely night, he<br />

saw in the middle airs below him five birdlike forms, horrible<br />

as carrion-fowl yet greater than eagles, cruel as death. Now<br />

they swooped near, venturing almost within bowshot of the<br />

walls, now they circled away.<br />

‘Black Riders!’ muttered Pippin. ‘Black Riders of the<br />

air! But see, Beregond!’ he cried. ‘They are looking for<br />

something, surely? See how they wheel and swoop, always<br />

down to that point over there! And can you see something<br />

moving on the ground? Dark little things. Yes, men on<br />

horses: four or five. Ah! I cannot stand it! Gandalf ! Gandalf<br />

save us!’<br />

Another long screech rose and fell, and he threw himself<br />

back again from the wall, panting like a hunted animal. Faint<br />

and seemingly remote through that shuddering cry he heard<br />

winding up from below the sound of a trumpet ending on a<br />

long high note.<br />

‘Faramir! The Lord Faramir! It is his call!’ cried Beregond.<br />

‘Brave heart! But how can he win to the Gate, if these foul<br />

hell-hawks have other weapons than fear? But look! They<br />

hold on. They will make the Gate. No! the horses are running<br />

mad. Look! the men are thrown; they are running on foot.<br />

No, one is still up, but he rides back to the others. That will

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