At length Beregond rose. "Farewel for this time!" he said. "I have duty now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you are lonely, as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My son would go with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down to the lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain, the Lampwrights' Street. You will find him there with other lads that are remaining in the City. There may be things worth seeing down at the Great Gate ere the closing." He went out, and soon after all the others folowed. The day was still fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so far southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless, and he decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that he had saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the horse seemed to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.
People stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely courteous, saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands upon the breast; but behind him he heard many cals, as those out of doors cried to others within to come and see the Prince of the Halflings, the companion of Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but it was not long before he learned at least what was meant by Ernil i Pheriannath and knew that his title had gone down before him into the City.
He came at last by arched streets and many fair aleys and pavements to the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the Lampwrights' Street, a broad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found the Old Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings running back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind which was the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pilared porch and a flight of steps down on to the grass. Boys were playing among the pilars, the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he stopped to look at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout he sprang across the grass and came into the street, folowed by several others. There he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.
"Greetings!" said the lad. "Where do you come from? You are a stranger in the City."
"I was," said Pippin; "but they say I have become a man of Gondor."
"Oh come!" said the lad. "Then we are all men here. But how old are you, and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shal soon be five feet. I am taler than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the talest. What is your father?"
"Which question shal I answer first?" said Pippin. "My father farms the lands round Whitwel near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways."
"Twenty-nine!" said the lad and whistled. "Why, you are quite old! As old as my uncle Iorlas. still," he added hopefuly, "I wager I could stand you on your head or lay you on your back."
"Maybe you could, if I let you," said Pippin with a laugh. "And maybe I could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little country. Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I have never alowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a trial and nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are older, you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!" Pippin puled such a grim face that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with clenched fists and the light of battle in his eye.
"No!" Pippin laughed. "Don't believe what strangers say of themselves either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for the chalenger to say who he is." The boy drew himself up proudly. "I am Bergil son of Beregond of the Guards," he said.
"So I thought," said Pippin, "for you look like your father. I know him and he sent me to find you."
"Then why did you not say so at once?" said Bergil, and suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. "Do not tell me that he has changed his mind, and will send me away with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone."
"His message is less bad than that, if not good." said Pippin. "He says that if you would prefer it to standing me on my head, you might show me round the City for a while and cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far countries in return." Bergil clapped his hands, and laughed with relief. "All is wel," he cried. "Come then! We were soon going to the Gate to look on. We will go now."
"What is happening there?"
"The Captains of the Outlands are expected up the South Road ere sundown. Come with us and you will see."
Bergil proved a good comrade, the best company Pippin had had since he parted from Merry, and soon they were laughing and talking gaily as they went about the streets, heedless of the many glances that men gave them. Before long they found themselves in a throng going towards the Great Gate. There Pippin went up much in the esteem of Bergil, for when he spoke his name and the pass-word the guard saluted him and let him pass through; and what was more, he alowed him to take his companion with him.
"That is good!" said Bergil. "We boys are no longer alowed to pass the Gate without an elder. Now we shal see better."
Beyond the Gate there was a crowd of men along the verge of the road and of the great paved space into which all the ways to Minas Tirith ran. All eyes were turned southwards, and soon a murmur rose: "There is dust away there! They are coming!" Pippin and Bergil edged their way forward to the front of the crowd, and waited. Horns sounded at some distance, and the noise of cheering roled towards them like a gathering wind.
Then there was a loud trumpet-blast, and all about them people were shouting.
"Forlong! Forlong!" Pippin heard men caling. "What do they say?" he asked.
"Forlong has come," Bergil answered; "old Forlong the Fat, the Lord of Lossarnach. That is where my grandsire lives. Hurrah! Here he is. Good old Forlong!" Leading the line there came walking a big thick-limbed horse, and on it sat a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, yet mail-clad and black-helmed and bearing a long heavy spear. Behind him marched proudly a dusty line of men, wel-armed and bearing great battle-axes; grim-faced they were, and shorter and somewhat swarthier than any men that Pippin had yet seen in Gondor.
"Forlong!" men shouted. "True heart, true friend! Forlong!" But when the men of Lossarnach had passed they muttered: "So few! Two hundreds, what are they? We hoped for ten times the number. That will be the new tidings of the black fleet. They are sparing only a tithe of their strength. still every little is a gain."
And so the companies came and were hailed and cheered and passed through the Gate, men of the Outlands marching to defend the City of Gondor in a dark hour; but always too few, always less than hope looked for or need asked. The men of Ringló Vale behind the son of their lord, Dervorin striding on foot: three hundreds. From the uplands of Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale, tall Duinhir with his sons, Duilin and Derufin, and five hundred bowmen.
From the Anfalas, the Langstrand far away, a long line of men of many sorts, hunters and herdsmen and men of little vilages, scantily equipped save for the household of Golasgil their lord. From Lamedon, a few grim hilmen without a captain. Fisher-folk of the Ethir, some hundred or more spared from the ships. Hirluin the Fair of the Green Hils from Pinnath Gelin with three hundreds of galant green-clad men. And last and proudest, Imrahil, Prince of Doll Amroth, kinsman of the Lord, with gilded banners bearing his token of the Ship and the Silver Swan, and a company of knights in full harness riding grey horses; and behind them seven hundreds of men at arms, tall as lords, grey-eyed, dark-haired, singing as they came.
And that was al, less than three thousands full told. No more would come. Their cries and the tramp of their feet passed into the City and died away. The onlookers stood silent for a while. Dust hung in the air, for the wind had died and the evening was heavy. Already the closing hour was drawing nigh, and the red sun had gone behind Mindoluin. Shadow came down on the City.
Pippin looked up, and it seemed to him that the sky had grown ashen-grey, as if a vast dust and smoke hung above them, and light came duly through it. But in the West the dying sun had set all the fume on fire, and now Mindoluin stood black against a burning smoulder flecked with embers. "So ends a fair day in wrath!" he said forgetful of the lad at his side.
"So it wil, if I have not returned before the sundown-bels," said Bergil. "Come! There goes the trumpet for the closing of the Gate."
Hand in hand they went back into the City, the last to pass the Gate before it was shut; and as they reached the Lampwrights' Street all the bels in the towers toled solemnly. Lights sprang in many windows, and from the houses and wards of the men at arms along the wals there came the sound of song.
"Farewel for this time," said Bergil. "Take my greetings to my :father, and thank him for the company that he sent. Come again soon, I beg. Almost I wish now that there was no war, for we might have had some merry times. We might have journeyed to Lossarnach, to my grandsire's house; it is good to be there in Spring, the woods and fields are full of flowers. But maybe we will go thither together yet. They will never overcome our Lord, and my father is very valiant. Farewel and return!"
They parted and Pippin hurried back towards the citadel. It seemed a long way, and he grew hot and very hungry; and night closed down swift and dark. Not a star pricked the sky.