Chapter 387: Old Friends, Parting
"Come on, Shadowfax. Show your true speed..."
Outside the walls, Gandalf gave Shadowfax a light pat on the neck. In the next heartbeat, the great horse surged forward, and a moment later, there was only a shrinking figure racing away.
"So fast."
Even Levi could not keep the quiet awe out of his voice as he watched Gandalf vanish toward the horizon.
Measured purely by top speed, that horse was even a touch faster than the fastest mount Levi had ever raised, and its stamina was no worse.
Gandalf was riding for the White City, alone.
Pippin and Merry stood beside Levi, watching him go. Both looked strangely hollow, as if the warmth of the feast had already drained away.
"Is Frodo really all right?" Pippin asked.
"For now, yes. There is news of them," Levi said. "Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, the guide they've been forced to rely on, have reached Ithilien safely. They're drawing closer and closer to Mordor."
He paused, and his voice dropped.
"The real trial has only just begun."
The words left both Hobbits weighed down with thought.
Merry seemed to make up his mind. Without another word, he turned and headed back toward the Golden Hall.
Pippin stayed where he was, still staring after Gandalf, as if he could see the rider even after he had disappeared.
When Levi turned to leave as well, Pippin suddenly drew his sword.
"I can do something too, can't I?"
He lifted his head, hope and fear tangled together, and looked straight at Levi.
Levi stopped.
"You?"
"Yes. Me."
For once, the mischief was gone from Peregrin Took's face. His voice was earnest, steady, almost fierce.
"Frodo and Sam are carrying out the most important task in the most dangerous place. My friends are suffering, and I can't sit safely behind the lines doing nothing."
"Please. Let me do something. I can offer my own strength."
"Even if it kills me."
Looking into the Hobbit's determined eyes, Levi seemed to remember something, and a small smile touched his mouth.
"You do have something you can do. You could even help Frodo directly. But it will take tremendous courage and willpower, and it may leave you with scars you carry for the rest of your life."
"Even so, you still want it?"
"I do!" Pippin answered without hesitation.
"Good. Peregrin Took."
Levi bent slightly and steadied Pippin by the shoulders.
"From this moment on, you are a Ranger-in-training."
"In the days ahead, you'll stay at my side and carry out a mission with me. A mission only you can do."
"I'm honored," Pippin said, and his reply rang with real strength.
Levi looked at him, then glanced in the direction Merry had gone, and let out a soft laugh.
"You know, when you and Merry are together, you always remind me of two old friends."
"Alger and Yavin. They were good lads. Like the two of you, they were close. Always together, always moving as one, no matter what they were doing."
"They were Rangers-in-training too. Long ago, they came to Rohan and Gondor, and fought Orcs out in the wild."
Pippin nodded. "That does sound like Merry and me. Only we haven't been to Gondor yet. But we're standing in Rohan right now."
"Where are they now? The Water City? Roadside Keep?"
"At Roadside Keep."
Levi looked north. "For more than twenty years, they've stayed there. Buried side by side beneath the green grass, their gravestones leaning close together."
"The night of life never stops for anyone, Pippin. Even now, I remember them clearly, as if those two young, lively lads were still standing straight before me, waiting for me to assign them the next task."
"As if, the moment I turn my head, they'll be somewhere behind me, sitting together on a stone or in the grass, their weapons set aside, talking about whatever happened a few days ago."
Pippin listened, stunned. Without meaning to, he glanced back over his shoulder.
There was only empty ground.
Nothing at all.
"All right," Levi said, and clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Nothing to see. It's time to move."
He motioned for Pippin to follow and to fall in with the Water City's host, already withdrawing at speed.
"Wait, but Merry..." Pippin blurted, surprising himself.
Somehow, he already hated the idea of being apart from his friend.
"He has his own work to do," Levi said, pointing toward the doors of the Golden Hall. "Look."
Pippin squinted into the distance. Merry was there, speaking with Théoden.
Rohan had already decided to ride to Gondor's aid and was mobilizing in urgent haste.
Partly it was because of Aragorn and Boromir's request. But not long ago, a messenger from Gondor had arrived, bearing Denethor's token: a Red Arrow.
It meant war was coming, and Gondor needed Rohan's help.
Théoden had long intended to aid Gondor. Now that the call had come in full form, he did not hesitate. He began to muster, to summon riders, and to fulfill the Oath of Éorl, sworn in a distant age.
And it was at that moment that Merry came to him.
The Hobbit drew his short blade and knelt on one knee before the King.
"I have a sword."
Holding it up with both hands, Merry looked into Théoden's face.
"Your Majesty, Théoden. Please accept it."
"I, Meriadoc of the Shire, will serve you."
Merry was trying, in his own way, to do something that mattered.
"And I accept it gladly," Théoden said, a smile breaking across his face.
His hands were careful as he helped the Hobbit to his feet.
"From this moment, I appoint you, Meriadoc, as a squire of Rohan. Stay at my side and assist me."
Merry nodded hard, too excited to hide it, and accepted at once.
So at the King of Rohan's side there was now a Hobbit squire, riding a small pony.
At the same time, while Théoden called his men to arms, others began to stir as well.
"I really wish I could summon a fully armored Dwarven host," Gimli grumbled as he watched the Riders gathering, "mounted on goats or wild boars, with our heavy crossbows and our war-wagons. That would be unstoppable."
A fire burned in him, hot and restless. He thought of his people, of disciplined ranks of Dwarves in mail that caught the light like ice.
"Your kin don't need to come here to be part of this war, Gimli," Legolas said.
They were sharing a horse, and Legolas held the reins with effortless ease. His eyes were distant, as if he could already see beyond the plains.
"Chances are they're already in the flames."
"Haven't you heard how dangerous the lands before the Black Gate have become?"
"The Lonely Mountain, the Free City-States, and the Woodland Realm stand on the same line now, locked in tense opposition with the Enemy."
"Elves, Dwarves, and Men. United again..."
As Legolas spoke, Gimli listened, then lowered his head, falling into an awkward silence that was rare for him.
Darkness was rolling across the world. No free people who still had their wits could believe they would be spared.
For the next three days, the host continued to gather. Men came from nearby towns and strongholds, joining the march to Gondor.
Rohan's deep green banners snapped in the wind, and the white horses upon them seemed to leap and run alongside the Riders.
"Beneath the high walls of Minas Tirith, the fate of our age will be decided..."
Théoden seemed to feel something settle into his bones. He looked back one last time at the Golden Hall upon the hill, Meduseld shining above Edoras.
Then he did not look back again.