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1082 the return of the king
and beneath; and pour oil upon it. And when I bid you thrust
in a torch. Do this and speak no more to me. Farewell!’
‘By your leave, lord!’ said Pippin and turned and fled in
terror from the deathly house. ‘Poor Faramir!’ he thought.
‘I must find Gandalf. Poor Faramir! Quite likely he needs
medicine more than tears. Oh, where can I find Gandalf ? In
the thick of things, I suppose; and he will have no time to
spare for dying men or madmen.’
At the door he turned to one of the servants who had
remained on guard there. ‘Your master is not himself,’ he
said. ‘Go slow! Bring no fire to this place while Faramir lives!
Do nothing until Gandalf comes!’
‘Who is the master of Minas Tirith?’ the man answered.
‘The Lord Denethor or the Grey Wanderer?’
‘The Grey Wanderer or no one, it would seem,’ said
Pippin, and he sped back and up the winding way as swiftly
as his feet would carry him, past the astonished porter,
out through the door, and on, till he came near the gate of
the Citadel. The sentinel hailed him as he went by, and he
recognized the voice of Beregond.
‘Whither do you run, Master Peregrin?’ he cried.
‘To find Mithrandir,’ Pippin answered.
‘The Lord’s errands are urgent and should not be hindered
by me,’ said Beregond; ‘but tell me quickly, if you may: what
goes forward? Whither has my Lord gone? I have just come
on duty, but I heard that he passed towards the Closed Door,
and men were bearing Faramir before him.’
‘Yes,’ said Pippin, ‘to the Silent Street.’
Beregond bowed his head to hide his tears. ‘They said that
he was dying,’ he sighed, ‘and now he is dead.’
‘No,’ said Pippin, ‘not yet. And even now his death might
be prevented, I think. But the Lord of the City, Beregond,
has fallen before his city is taken. He is fey and dangerous.’
Quickly he told of Denethor’s strange words and deeds. ‘I
must find Gandalf at once.’
‘Then you must go down to the battle.’
‘I know. The Lord has given me leave. But, Beregond, if