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1056 the <strong>return</strong> of the king<br />

in strange garments, all of black and silver. He had a small<br />

hauberk, its rings forged of steel, maybe, yet black as jet; and<br />

a high-crowned helm with small raven-wings on either side,<br />

set with a silver star in the centre of the circlet. Above the<br />

mail was a short surcoat of black, but broidered on the breast<br />

in silver with the token of the Tree. His old clothes were<br />

folded and put away, but he was permitted to keep the grey<br />

cloak of Lórien, though not to wear it when on duty. He<br />

looked now, had he known it, verily Ernil i Pheriannath, the<br />

Prince of the Halflings, that folk had called him; but he felt<br />

uncomfortable. And the gloom began to weigh on his spirits.<br />

It was dark and dim all day. From the sunless dawn until<br />

evening the heavy shadow had deepened, and all hearts in<br />

the City were oppressed. Far above a great cloud streamed<br />

slowly westward from the Black Land, devouring light, borne<br />

upon a wind of war; but below the air was still and breathless,<br />

as if all the Vale of Anduin waited for the onset of a ruinous<br />

storm.<br />

About the eleventh hour, released at last for a while from<br />

service, Pippin came out and went in search of food and<br />

drink to cheer his heavy heart and make his task of waiting<br />

more supportable. In the messes he met Beregond again, who<br />

had just come from an errand over the Pelennor out to the<br />

Guard-towers upon the Causeway. Together they strolled<br />

out to the walls; for Pippin felt imprisoned indoors, and stifled<br />

even in the lofty citadel. Now they sat side by side again in<br />

the embrasure looking eastward, where they had eaten and<br />

talked the day before.<br />

It was the sunset-hour, but the great pall had now stretched<br />

far into the West, and only as it sank at last into the Sea did<br />

the Sun escape to send out a brief farewell gleam before the<br />

night, even as Frodo saw it at the Cross-roads touching the<br />

head of the fallen king. But to the fields of the Pelennor,<br />

under the shadow of Mindolluin, there came no gleam: they<br />

were brown and drear.<br />

Already it seemed years to Pippin since he had sat there

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