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May 15 - June 15, 2018
For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and in each wall was a gate.
I did not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold counsel.
The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.’
‘A time may come soon,’ said he, ‘when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.’
‘A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’
‘There never was much hope,’ he answered. ‘Just a fool’s hope, as I have been told.
Let us remember that a traitor may betray himself and do good that he does not intend. It can be so, sometimes. Good night!’
Gandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn. And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin’s sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.
Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen, meet was his ending. When his mound is raised, women then shall weep. War now calls us!
‘The houses of the dead are no places for the living.
The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.’
His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.’
“Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur! Your oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and be at rest!”
Then he drew Andúril and held it up glittering in the sun. ‘You shall not be sheathed again until the last battle is fought,’
As he gazed at it suddenly Sam understood, almost with a shock, that this stronghold had been built not to keep enemies out of Mordor, but to keep them in.
‘I have come,’ he said. ‘But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!’
There came Gwaihir the Windlord, and Landroval his brother, greatest of all the Eagles of the North, mightiest of the descendants of old Thorondor, who built his eyries in the inaccessible peaks of the Encircling Mountains when Middle-earth was young.
And Gandalf said: ‘Many folk like to know beforehand what is to be set on the table; but those who have laboured to prepare the feast like to keep their secret; for wonder makes the words of praise louder.
On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a single white stone flickering like a frosty star.
It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.
Gandalf now wore openly on his hand the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire.
