return

1002 the return of the king
is no longer a bickering at the fords, raiding from Ithilien and
from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This is a great war
long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride
may say. Things move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea,
it is reported; and north in Mirkwood and beyond; and south
in Harad. And now all realms shall be put to the test, to stand,
or fall – under the Shadow.
‘Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear
the brunt of the chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred
comes down out of the depths of time and over the deeps of
the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall hardest. And for
that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we
fall, who shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any
hope that we shall stand?’
Pippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and
the towers and brave banners, and the sun in the high sky,
and then at the gathering gloom in the East; and he thought
of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the orcs in the woods
and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of evil
eye, and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire – and
of the winged terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope
seemed to wither. And even at that moment the sun for a
second faltered and was obscured, as though a dark wing
had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought
he caught, high and far up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but
heart-quelling, cruel and cold. He blanched and cowered
against the wall.
‘What was that?’ asked Beregond. ‘You also felt something?’
‘Yes,’ muttered Pippin. ‘It is the sign of our fall, and the
shadow of doom, a Fell Rider of the air.’
‘Yes, the shadow of doom,’ said Beregond. ‘I fear that
Minas Tirith shall fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my
blood seems stolen away.’
For a time they sat together with bowed heads and did not
speak. Then suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun