return

1072 the return of the king
isle has fallen. Another army is come from the Black Gate,
crossing from the north-east.’
‘Some have accused you, Mithrandir, of delighting to bear
ill news,’ said Denethor, ‘but to me this is no longer news: it
was known to me ere nightfall yesterday. As for the sortie, I
had already given thought to it. Let us go down.’
Time passed. At length watchers on the walls could see the
retreat of the out-companies. Small bands of weary and often
wounded men came first with little order; some were running
wildly as if pursued. Away to the eastward the distant fires
flickered, and now it seemed that here and there they crept
across the plain. Houses and barns were burning. Then from
many points little rivers of red flame came hurrying on, winding
through the gloom, converging towards the line of the
broad road that led from the City-gate to Osgiliath.
‘The enemy,’ men murmured. ‘The dike is down. Here
they come pouring through the breaches! And they carry
torches, it seems. Where are our own folk?’
It drew now to evening by the hour, and the light was so
dim that even far-sighted men upon the Citadel could discern
little clearly out upon the fields, save only the burnings that
ever multiplied, and the lines of fire that grew in length and
speed. At last, less than a mile from the City, a more ordered
mass of men came into view, marching not running, still
holding together.
The watchers held their breath. ‘Faramir must be there,’
they said. ‘He can govern man and beast. He will make
it yet.’
Now the main retreat was scarcely two furlongs distant.
Out of the gloom behind a small company of horsemen galloped,
all that was left of the rearguard. Once again they
turned at bay, facing the oncoming lines of fire. Then suddenly
there was a tumult of fierce cries. Horsemen of the
enemy swept up. The lines of fire became flowing torrents,
file upon file of Orcs bearing flames, and wild Southron men