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greybeards could boast of. I thought it was
the whim of our Lord to take him a noble page, after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is not so,
and you must pardon my foolishness.’
    ‘I do,’ said Pippin. ‘Though you are not far wrong. I am still little more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and
it will be four years yet before I “come of age”, as we say in the Shire. But do not bother about me. Come and look and tell
me what I can see.’
    The sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been drawn up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead,
as wisps of white cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now flapping and tugging the flags and white
standards of the citadel. Away down in the valley-bottom, five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be
seen grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a mighty sweep south and west again, till it was lost
to view in a haze and shimmer, far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.
    Pippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into the distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and
byres, but nowhere could he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the green fields, and there was much
coming and going: wains moving in lines towards the Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would ride
up, and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the traffic went out along the chief highway, and that
turned south, and then bending swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight. It was wide and well-paved,
and along its eastern edge ran a broad green riding-track, and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro,
but all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going south. But soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered:
the wains were moving in three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great waggons with fair housings of many
colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim of the road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men.
    ‘That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the mountain-villages, and then on to Lebennin,’ said Beregond.
‘There go the last of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged, the children, and the women that must go with them. They
must all be gone from the Gate and the road clear for a league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad necessity.’ He
sighed. ‘Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And there were always too few childrenin this city; but now there are none – save some young lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son
is one of them.’
    They fell silent for a while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if at any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring
over the fields. ‘What can I see there?’ he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve of the Anduin. ‘Is that
another city, or what is it?’
    ‘It was a city,’ said Beregond, ‘the chief city of Gondor, of which this was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath
on either side of Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the days of the youth of Denethor:
not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the Fell
Riders out of Minas Morgul.’
    ‘The Black Riders?’ said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were wide and dark with an old fear re-awakened.
    ‘Yes, they were black,’ said Beregond, ‘and I see that you know something of them, though you have not spoken of them in any
of your tales.’
    ‘I know of them,’ said Pippin softly, ‘but I will not speak of them now, so near, so near.’ He broke off and lifted his eyes
above the River, and it seemed to him that all he could see was a vast