CHAPTER XII

Reunion at the White City

Waking up to a golden sunrise uplifted the halfling's moods greatly, having much rather preferring it to the blandness of a pale dawn which their eyes had incessantly laid upon since their departure. They wished not to separate from their beds, for it was the first time since Crickhollow that they felt the warm softness of a mattress and a feathered pillow. But the day was waning, and they had to leave for Gondor.

Changing into their garments the hobbits left their chambers and came to reunite with the others within the main hall. Gandalf was again speaking inaudibly to Éomer - hands behind his back and without his ashen cloak. Éowyn was not in attendance; only they and the guards that stood motionlessly at the sides and front of the hall. As Gandalf caught sight of the two somnolent hobbits, he smiled. 'It is nice to see you both up early and refreshed.'

'It was one of the best sleeps I've had in a long time,' said a yawning Pippin.

'I can't agree more,' said Merry, and he stretched his limbs.

Éomer approached them. 'It is a shame that we are to be parted once again, Master Hobbits; however, I am sure this will not be our final meeting.'

'I hope not either,' whispered Pippin sadly, still disturbed by the visions.

'Have you packed everything?' asked Gandalf.

The hobbits nodded. 'Yes, everything's packed,' answered Merry.

'Then we leave this moment,' and turning he clasped his staff from beside the pillar and cast his cloak over him.

The hobbits' expressions became that of such befuddlement. 'What about breakfast?' asked Pippin curiously.

'Eat what you have in your packs; Éomer has offered up a great quantity of food ready for your journey to Minas Tirith. We need to move quickly, so apologies if you're hungry.'

Merry's stomach rumbled angrily, and Pippin sighed with such dismay. The king smiled amusedly at them. 'You can have food shortly, my friends,' he laid a hand on both their shoulders. 'The ponies are ready for your departure.'

'I wish to say farewell to the Lady Éowyn before we leave,' requested Meriadoc.

Éomer nodded. 'Of course, she will be with us shortly to see you out.'

Merry grinned, 'Great,' and he sauntered over to a bench at the side of the hall. Pippin followed hesitantly, and trotting over he overheard faintly the muffled voices of the King and the wizard behind him, taking in only minor information:

'… After the spring passes… the east… rally... cavalry… make the time… best wishes... friend…' was all he could make out.

He slumped down, his toes brushing the ground. He witnessed the conclusion of their dialogue, which left a grim look swathed upon the King's face. With a quick bob of their heads, they departed from each other; Gandalf hobbling towards the doors, and Éomer disappearing through one of the exits.

'What do you think they were talking about?' whispered Merry cautiously, titling his head closer to his cousin.

'Isn't it obvious?' said Pippin deprecatingly. 'You know what's happening in the east.'

He mumbled. 'Do you reckon he's preparing an army to fight it?'

Pippin puffed out a cynical laugh. 'Men can't fight shadow, Merry. It'll be like slashing mist with a blade - completely ineffective.'

'How do you know that this isn't just any ordinary cloud of darkness?' he asked. 'I mean, it may be a spirit, after all. What Gandalf told us back at Crickhollow; it can't just be a black sandstorm.'

Shooting a sideways glance at Merry, Pippin examined his sudden curiosity. 'Why has it suddenly become so important to you?' he asked warily. 'I thought I was the one to ask these sorts of questions.'

'You still can be,' he replied. 'Though you're the one more interested in what this thing can do. I'm interested in what we are doing about it.'

Pippin's brows furrowed. 'You know what we're doing: we're finding the crystals. Gandalf said that's the only way it can be stopped.'

'Then why is Gandalf asking King Éomer for assistance?'

Pippin hesitated suddenly. Why was he? Clearly mortals had no power to conquer such an entity. Do the Rohirrim have a hidden tactic into weakening it? Is this why the wizard wishes to proceed to Minas Tirith, to ask Aragorn for aid also? He couldn't find an answer to this enquiry. He knew not himself.

Merry pulled a triumphant smile. 'Exactly,' he whispered sharply, 'if the crystals are so powerful why do we need support from the kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan?'

Pippin stammered, thinking. 'Err; perhaps they're helping us look for it?'

'Hmm,' mumbled the hobbit, seemingly doubtful to Pippin's query.

'Then again, I know as much as you do…'

At that moment, Lady Éowyn appeared near the right hand top corner of the hall, her eyes searching fervently. Merry called to her, and instantly a warm beam crossed her face, and she advanced towards them.

'You are to leave, are you not?' she asked them as they both hopped off the bench. 'I have provided food for your venture to Minas Tirith,' she informed.

'Your hospitality has been most welcoming,' said Pippin, bowing to her.

The smile from her face fell as she creased her brows. 'If you happen to see, or at least hear, from Faramir-,'

'We'll tell him the Lady of Rohan misses him dearly,' said a smirking Merry.

Éowyn beamed delightedly. 'That is most kind of you, Master Merry-,'

The conversation was abruptly interrupted by Gandalf, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere as though the transparent air crafted his form beside them. It seemed to have startled the hobbits quite a little, however, Éowyn flinched not. The wizard cleared his throat. 'The ponies are ready for our departure, Meriadoc and Peregrin. It is best we leave without delay.'

'O, yes, of course,' said Pippin, still slightly alarmed by the unexpectedness of Gandalf's return. He made a swift bow to the Lady, and hobbled over towards the Great Hall's entrance.

'Prepare your farewell, Meriadoc,' said Gandalf, 'we leave at once,' and robes flapping as he turned he proceeded speedily to the door.

Timidly, Merry twitched a friendly smile. 'I hope to see you again, my Lady,' a sense of sadness was lingering on his voice, 'I gravely do.'

Éowyn's smile responded to his despairing, and her eyes accompanied it. 'We will, Merry,' she said hopefully, and she sighed, 'we most certainly shall see each other again.'

'You are too optimistic,' chuckled a nervous Meriadoc, 'Pippin keeps saying that's just deceit.'

She shook her head in disagreement. 'No, I am deceiving myself not; I do believe that all will turn out well in the end, as do you.' And concluding their dialogue with a lengthily embrace, the hobbit bowed low to her, and scurried - turning back to wave only – towards the door, where he, Pippin and Gandalf disappeared through…

'Mount your ponies, my lads,' ordered Gandalf once they entered the stables. 'The journey to Minas Tirith will be tiresome, and we cannot afford to delay.'

Opening the stable door to greet their ponies the hobbits began to fasten their provisions onto the saddle. The thought of returning to the great White City was thrilling, and the vision of seeing the Tower of Ecthelion peer over the hilltops of the west filled their little hearts with splendour. How much would have changed during these passing years? Will the city be as they remembered? Excitement was bubbling, and they assertively showed it, displaying such eagerness to mount their ponies and be off toward the Eastfold. Gandalf clearly saw it, and he let out a quiet chuckle of amusement.

'Minas Tirith,' said Merry dreamily, 'it feels so surreal to think that we will be returning. It's very much surreal now being reacquainted with everyone here in Edoras. It's as though we never left for home; as though we've been out among these lands all these years.'

'Perhaps so,' said Gandalf as he ascended onto Shadowfax, 'but much has changed, Meriadoc, as I have said before. Remember, my lads, we're on a mission. Remember to keep focused on what we must do.'

'We?' said Pippin as he fastened the last of the bags onto his pony. 'You're beginning to see this as our mission, not yours?'

'Well, of course, this is my mission. But we are all intertwined in the same fate. It is all our mission, for those that wish it to be so.'

This left Pippin musing in silence for a good while, but Merry persisted in muttering absent-minded twaddle to himself. Gandalf paid no heed, and once he was seated on the stallion he began to leave, with the ponies following close behind.

Out they galloped down the streets of Edoras, passing the fascinated citizens on the way by. Within no time they were outside the gates, out onto the plains, leaving behind the city of Edoras, which gradually faded in the horizon behind them until it was entirely vanished by the ascension of the hills.

The wind wailed past their ears and danced with their hair as they dashed swifter than a rapid stream across the plains of Rohan. The White Mountains loomed in the distance, their snow-kissed peaks stroking the bottom of the clouds. The sky was dazzlingly blue and the sun splendid and warm. It would make one disregard the thought of danger which was creeping its way closer every second from the east. It would make one believe that danger existed no longer.

The grasslands seemed perpetually present. In every direction the olive green fields swathed the earth, save for the column of peaks standing proudly in the south. They remained in following the road and strayed not from the path. Wandering away from the route planned welcomed trouble, and the trio had too many experiences in that field.

After covering many miles the sun began to set in the west, burning the sky brilliantly as it descended. They stopped to make camp for the night in the brushes of the plains. The fields turned ebony in shade and all was veiled in pitch black darkness. Only the small fire of the camp cast back the ravenous shadows. Without much thought of peril, and listening to the soft wind and the hush of the plains the trio fell into a restful sleep that night.

Dawn broke sooner than expected. It was still rather gloomy as only quarter of the sun poked her head out in the east. It was a surprise that the sun still arose in the shadowed east; it was a thought that the star would be consumed first by Dae. It was a relief to know that it was not, but not a relief when dreams took a sinister turn.

Pippin did not sleep as well as he hoped. The terrible visions of darkness whirled constantly in his mind, and red-eyed beasts and cackling monsters terrorised his dreams, tearing away the only sanctuary a person can obtain when they wish to take a rest from reality. Unfortunately it appeared reality was eating its way inside his mind quicker and nastier than the hungriest of wolves. The mark of a nightmare was etched on the hobbit's face: rings underlined his bright eyes, a pasty colour painted his face and his eyelids constantly obstructed his vision. His body seemed to not respond well either, with his mind journeying far from his head and his limbs disobeying their commands.

Merry quickly noticed this odd behaviour, as the hobbit himself suffered minor symptoms of this disorder also. 'Are you feeling all right?' he asked Pippin once they began to leave the camp that morning.

Pippin did not respond quickly as one usually does, and mumbled his answer as though it was difficult to speak. 'I'm very well, thank you,' he uttered almost inaudibly as he put his coat on.

'Yes, I should have known,' said Merry, 'it certainly looks as though you're in good health. Those black rings really bring out the colour of your eyes.'

Pippin seemed to have paid hardly any attention to this sarcastic comment, and so mumbled vaguely in reply, in which Merry responded with raised eyebrows.

The hobbit's disorientated mannerisms brought out more than a morsel of pity for Merry. It was strange to see him acting the way he was: fretting over doomsday and rejecting any offerings of optimism. Was it an odd way to behave to something like this, or was it completely normal? Merry knew very much that he has reacted to the apocalypse with light-hearted indifference, much to the annoyance of his companions. Perhaps his behaviour was the odd one, and Pippin's was expected. It never hurts to hold onto optimism, but maybe Merry was holding on too much. It may be time to let go and fall into the real world once again, and understand that death is not something to laugh about, or something to ignore when it is inevitable to all.

Wicked things nested inside their minds for the remainder of that day. Their minds were too fixated in visualisations rather than focusing on the existent plane their ponies galloped through. They pictured the great White City situated grandly beside the White Mountains; the banners swaying in a warm gust and the sun gleaming upon the blossomed Tree of Gondor. It was such beauty that brought them back from darkness. Their hearts leapt joyfully to know they were returning, to know that they were reliving the pleasant parts of their memories. It hindered any recognition of the Shadow, when magnificence existed before them.

It would take – if they kept the same pace – roughly by sundown to reach the city. There was no stopping; Gandalf had made it clear by the hasting of Shadowfax that reaching Minas Tirith as quickly as possible was vital. The hobbits believed that they had never ridden as fast than when racing across the rolling pastures of fading kingdom of the Horse Lords. The wind was gnawing at their ears and their hair was dynamically flailing across their faces. Even tears began to quiver at the outer corners of their eyes. It was as though they were riding an oncoming hurricane, and in no time they would eventually arrive at the gates of the city.

Only one more hill stood before them and their destination. Ascending higher and higher across the darkening fields the knoll descended beneath the mounts' hooves, and with exhilaration bursting inside the hobbits' bowels, they had reached the top, and gazed out into the sapphire horizon, and the silver-shaded stone walls of Minas Tirith, like a fraction of the cliff thrust out into the paddocks of the Pelennor Fields, and the Tower of Ecthelion surging into the heavens like a lance in the throng.

A flame had kindled like the beacons that were once lit upon the mountain peaks, and the fire blazed with fiery mirth. There was no grin that could match the ones that had formed upon the halflings' faces – the feeling was genuine and deeply moving. It was once here that the legions of Sauron's armies scourged these once green meadows, and yet it seemed that it was unscathed by any depraved thing. Lights were flickering in the city; it was trance-like, as though dozens of will-o-the-wisps called to them, saying that they were here, that it was real.

Interlocked in a trance, the hobbits could do nought but stare. The wizard scanned their awestruck faces with a glint of amusement, and proceeded in snapping them out of their little hypnosis. 'Let us not stay here as though our minds have left us, my lads, we must continue into the city.'

Merry was the first to return to reality. 'I forgot how beautiful this city is,' said he, still seemingly yonder. 'Again I must say: it feels so surreal.'

'Yes, it may do so,' said the wizard, 'but I am not repeating what I said yesterday. Escort the ponies down into the Pelennor and into the city. I wish to be inside before the sun disappears behind us.'

Without any ado, the hobbits and the wizard proceeded down onto the main roads through the Pelennor Fields, snaking their way through the paddocks and hamlets and onto the Gateway leading directly towards the Great Gate. One of the guards must have seen their approach, and once they reached the gate it began to creak open, and they emerged into the courtyard.

Again here, it appeared that everything was intact. Who would have guessed that a siege had taken place in this city, right behind these very walls? A splendid statue was erected in the centre, and behind the propelled cliff of the mountain tapped barely the end of the courtyard. It never really entered the hobbit's mind until now that the Númenóreans did a spectacular job of constructing the Tower of Guard. It was just a shame of what happened to its twin: Minas Morgul, now lying in ruins in the shadow of the Morgul Vale.

The ponies and Shadowfax soared up the levels in the dusk, and each level passed was ascension of the hobbits' thrill. Eventually they had come to the seventh and final level, and came into view of the Citadel; the tower pointing proudly beside the halls. The White Tree bloomed and even in the dark its vibrant blossoms illuminated the area, and the armour of the guards surrounding it; their winged helmets upon their heads and their spears steady as a tree.

Dismounting their steeds the ponies and Shadowfax were then escorted out of the courtyard and down into the stables for rest after their tiresome journey. The wizard seemed ghostly in the dark, and his bright eyes reflected off the lights within the Citadel. Years it has been since here before and now it was to be relived.

'Come, my lads,' said Gandalf, beckoning for the halflings to follow him inside.

'Does Aragorn know that we're here?' asked Pippin as he scurried to the wizard's side.

'I reckon so,' said he; 'one of the guards may have informed him when we arrived at the gate.'

'It feels like a family reunion,' murmured Merry. 'First Edoras, and now Minas Tirith. I wonder who is inside.'

'Aragorn, of course,' said Pippin as-a-matter-of-factly, 'Lady Arwen too.'

'I'd be surprised if any more were here,' said Merry.

'Well, you're just going to have to wait and see,' said Gandalf, and together they entered the Citadel.

Inside the halls were marble white embellished with a touch of navy blue. The statuettes of the previous kings of Gondor aligned the sides of the hall, and in front were rows of columns. Braziers were hanging upon the walls above and beside the pillars, conjuring a warm and hospitable atmosphere. Beyond were two thrones: one beside some steps and one placed atop of them. It was an anticipation to see a majestic king sitting on the silver throne, welcoming the visitors with open arms and a friendly salutation. But that was not what they received, for there was no king seated upon the throne. There was nobody present within the hall save for the wizard, the hobbits and the Citadel guards.

Pippin's heart fell like stone and his face was crossed with befuddlement. 'Where is everyone?'

Merry shrugged his shoulders and Gandalf did not answer. Instead the tiniest trace of a smile curled at the corner of his lips, and a small groan sounded from them. Almost unexpectedly, the wizard spoke in a clear and booming voice: 'My Lord Elessar, usually it is not common for one to be absent from his halls.'

'I am not absent, my friend,' said a voice in reply, which startled the little halflings. From the corner of the hall a man emerged, clothed in such magnificent garments and a silver crown seated upon his head. It was no doubt that this person was familiar, for it felt as though a memory had escaped from their minds. Aragorn made a simply affectionate smile to his former companions, and he chuckled. 'It has been too long, my friends.'

If it were not for a split second of uncertainty the hobbits would have dashed quicker than wind towards the king and hugged him without a care, but instead, seeming much more courteous (even if their tingling bowels protested otherwise) they made a low and chivalrous bow.

Aragorn again chuckled. 'There is no need to bow, Master Hobbits.'

Sharing hesitant glances at one another, Merry and Pippin arose with flushed cheeks and sheepish smiles.

Gandalf laughed echoingly. 'I see that you attempted to surprise us believing that you were not present. It did not fool me.'

Aragorn smiled. 'I think you are, my friend, because I am not the only one in this hall that you have not pointed out as of yet.'

Here memories were absconding wildly, and the hobbits believed that they were hallucinations. Two more people emerged from behind the thrones, and they were familiar also, so familiar it was as though they had always been here. An elf and a dwarf walked out with smiles on their faces, and they joined the king near the foot of the throne.

'I gather that you did not expect to see us again, young hobbits,' said Gimli, laughing gruffly through his bushy beard.

'Contrariwise, I believe that we did not expect to see them,' said Legolas, and he nodded to them chivalrously.

A sack of excitement had burst like fireworks within their bowels that the halflings could have leapt into the air with glee. The inducement was tempting, but was replaced with silly grins. Six members of the former fellowship had rendezvoused coincidently underneath one roof. The hobbits were half expecting Sam and Frodo to emerge from behind the pillars, or for Boromir to stroll in through the doors, however it was then when they realised they were not that blessed, and if they were, they would know for sure they had stumbled into a vision of yearning.

Gandalf even chuckled with merriment. 'Such an unexpected surprise,' he said, 'I say truth when I believed I would not be laying my eyes upon your faces again, old friends.'

'If it were an expected surprise then it would not be a surprise, you old fool,' said the dwarf, and he took out a pipe from his garments and began to puff little by little.

'I- I cannot- it can't—,' the hobbits could not form words to describe their unfathomable mirth, and only stumbled word after word, looking like dimwits in front of all.

'O, do hush, young Hobbits,' said the wizard with an edge of amusement.

'Let them express their joys, Mithrandir,' said the elf, 'for they have not seen these parts for many a year. Stammering is an expression.'

'O, of course,' replied the wizard, and he tapped the hobbits' ankles with the base of his staff, breaking their astonishment and ending their stuttering. 'But I prefer a nice silence where I can think than to hear the continuous and unproductive attempts of forming words in the air,' and with that again he knocked Peregrin's lower back, whether it be for personal delight or for retracing the hobbit's former behaviour.

Meriadoc was the first to end his stammering. Concealing his mouth with his fist to cough, the hobbit finally spoke, even if it did still hold the remnants of shock and unsteadiness. 'It - it is an honour to meet with all of you once again! An honour!' and with that he took a low bow; his curls bouncing off the floor.

'I said before, my dear friends,' said Aragorn, 'that there is no need to bow. Whether it be courteous and of fine conduct, we have known one another for long enough that you should approach me as an acquaintance, master Merry. The same applies to you, master Pippin,' he added once he saw the hobbit bowing also. The smile that had seated itself warmly on the king's lips had begun to diminish, and as it did his eyes strayed upwards and into the wizard's. 'It now comes down to your reason for such an unforeseen arrival,' he said with little warmth and much concern, 'for why you have returned, Gandalf, it must be gravely urgent.'

The wizard grumbled beneath his breath, and nodded in response. '"Gravely" is only a light term, my Lord Elessar. There are dark things at work, and I need to speak with you and you alone,' and with that he gave rapid glances to Legolas and Gimli, which they understood at once, and in response they moved aside (and the hobbits) and let Gandalf and Aragorn divulge on foreboding information.

Aside, the hobbits scampered over to throne's steps, seating themselves at the feet with the elf and the dwarf standing beside. There was little point in eavesdropping on the wizard and the king when they essentially knew the matters, albeit they knew nought of what use Gandalf desired for Aragorn. Like Merry had said to Pippin, there was hardly much of a rationalization for what good use mortals have with something beyond their understanding.

'Such a twist of fate, young hobbits,' said a gleeful Gimli, still puffing on his pipe so implicitly he could commence a competition with the wizard. 'What brings you all the way back to these parts, then?'

The hobbits both shared a swift glance. Merry spoke first. 'You'll have to ask Gandalf,' he said simply, 'we honestly don't know ourselves.' Of course, only half of it was true.

'Were you merely hoping for another escapade?' asked Legolas, a gleeful smile waxing on his face.

'You could say that,' said Pippin, and the hobbits let out a joyous laughter.

'We're never ones to turn down adventures,' added Merry, and yet he could not help but feel a bulky weight press down on his heart. He could not fathom the reason for it.

'No, I suppose not,' said the elf, and for several lengthy minutes the four drew themselves into conversation, and there they began to share stories after their parting several years ago. It was told that Gimli had shepherded a host of dwarves from the Lonely Mountain down into Aglarond, the caves behind Helm's Deep. The hobbits were immensely pleased to hear of his newly found lordship. Legolas had accompanied his dwarven friend to the Glittering Caves, and in return Gimli consorted the elf into Fangorn Forest. It was a wonder to the hobbits of what came of the forest, even though they had met Treebeard within the circle of Isengard, he was a lengthy walk away from the eaves of the woods.

'So little Samwise is mayor, again?' said Gimli with an edge of amusement to his voice.

'Yeah, for the... third time, is it, Pip?'

'Uh, I think so.'

Gimli chuckled. 'It must have been a number of times if you can't even remember.'

'It is well to know that Sam is doing excellently,' said Legolas. 'Quality over quantity, friends.'

'You should tell that to his children,' said Merry quietly, in which Pippin gave him a sharp nudge on his arm, hushing him up instantly.

After a harmony of laughter, the wizard and the king's confidential conversation came to a conclusion. Gandalf and Aragorn both made their way over to see to the hobbits, and quickly the halflings jumped back up onto their feet and took a swift bow to the king.

'All is said,' said Gandalf monotonically, 'and now, we rest.'

'You are both to be escorted to your rooms, master hobbits,' said Aragorn, 'you will be staying for the night and most likely the days following. The Lady Arwen awaits your arrival.'

'We've already been offered rooms?' said a befuddled Meriadoc.

'The rooms were set before we entered,' said the wizard. The hobbits gave each other a baffled glance. 'It had already crossed the king's mind that we would be staying, and he was correct.'

'But I thought we were moving on?' exclaimed Peregrin.

Gandalf returned a hard glare at the hobbit. 'No, not yet. Not until we... until we are ready.'

But the hobbits were already raring to go. It was strange to wonder why Gandalf kept insisting on these brief respites when there was a thousand mile long wall of darkness creeping its way across the land to greet them. In fact it was a miracle to wonder how lightly the matter trailed from their thoughts only to return like a clout to the head. Just how far was it now? How long was it until it reached this region of Middle-earth?

'An escort will guide you to your rooms, master hobbits,' and with that Aragorn beckoned for one the guards beside the doors to usher the halflings out. 'Dinner will be prepared for you very shortly. Make yourself as comfortable as you can.'

'I will be down later to see you both,' said Gandalf, and there was a splinter of severity to his tone, quite similar to ones regarding the Shadow. It was presumably that topic, the hobbits simultaneously believed. 'Remain indoors, and do not go wandering off as you usually do.'