"Come now, Shadowfax, show your true speed..."
Outside the walls, Gandalf gently patted Shadowfax. In the next instant, the great horse surged forward, and within the blink of an eye, only its distant silhouette remained.
"So fast."
Watching Gandalf's departing figure, even Garrett couldn't help but sigh in admiration. In terms of pure top speed, that horse was a little faster than the fastest ones he had ever trained, and its endurance was just as remarkable.
Gandalf rode on alone, heading toward the White City.
Pippin and Merry stood beside Garrett, gazing after Gandalf with a faint sense of melancholy.
"Frodo will really be all right, won't he?"
"For now, yes. I've received word from them."
Garrett replied, "Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, who guides them, they have safely reached Ithilien and are drawing ever closer to Mordor. The true trial is only just beginning."
Hearing Garrett's words, the two Hobbits fell silent, each lost in thought.
Merry seemed to have made up his mind about something. He turned first and walked back toward the great hall.
Pippin stayed where he was, still staring blankly in the direction Gandalf had gone.
As Garrett was about to leave, Pippin suddenly drew his sword.
"I must be able to do something too, right?"
He looked up at Garrett, eyes filled with hope.
Garrett stopped walking.
"You?"
"Yes, me."
The usually mischievous and lighthearted Pippin said earnestly, "Frodo and Sam are carrying out their great mission in the most dangerous of places... My friends are suffering. I can't just sit idly by, doing nothing in safety. Please, let me do something. I can give my own strength to help. Even if it costs me my life."
Looking at the determined Hobbit before him, Garrett suddenly smiled, as though reminded of something.
"There is indeed something only you can do, something that could even help Frodo directly. But it will take immense courage and willpower, and it may leave you with lasting scars and shadows you'll carry all your life. Even so, will you still do it?"
"I will!" Pippin replied without a moment's hesitation.
"Very well, Peregrin Took."
Garrett bent down slightly and rested a hand on Pippin's shoulder. "From this moment on, you are an apprentice Ranger. In the days ahead, you'll remain at my side and carry out missions with me, a task that only you can accomplish."
"It's an honor."
Pippin's voice rang out, firm and full of conviction.
Garrett looked at him, then in the direction Merry had gone, and smiled faintly.
"You know," he said, "when you and Merry are together, you always remind me of two old friends."
"Arje and Yavin, they were fine young Men, much like you two. They were very close, always together, doing everything side by side. They too were apprentice Rangers. Long ago, they visited both Rohan and Gondor, fighting orcs across the wild lands."
Pippin nodded. "That does sound a lot like me and Merry. We haven't been to Gondor yet, but right now, we're standing in Rohan. Where are they now? In the City of Waters or at Wayfort?"
"At Wayfort," Garrett said, gazing northward. "They've rested there for more than twenty years now, buried side by side in the green grass, their headstones leaning together. The night of life never halts for anyone, Pippin. Even now, I remember them vividly, as if those two young, spirited lads were still standing before me, straight and tall, waiting for me to give them their next mission. As if... the moment I turn around, I'll see them behind me somewhere, sitting together on a rock or in the grass, weapons laid at their sides, talking about what happened a few days ago."
Pippin listened in silence, and despite himself, turned to glance behind, only to see an empty stretch of plain.
There was nothing there.
"All right," Garrett said, "nothing to see. It's time for us to go."
Garrett patted Pippin on the shoulder, motioning for him to follow, along with the swiftly withdrawing host of the City of Waters.
"Wait, but Merry..."
Somehow, Pippin suddenly found it hard to part with his dearest friend.
"He has his own part to play," Garrett said, pointing toward the gates of the great hall in the distance.
"Look."
Pippin strained his eyes and saw Merry speaking with King Théoden.
By now, Rohan had decided to ride to Gondor's aid, and urgent mobilization was underway. Partly it was in answer to the plea of Aragorn and Boromir, but more than that, a messenger from Gondor had recently arrived bearing Denethor's token, a red arrow.
It was the sign that war was upon them, and that Gondor now called for Rohan's help.
Théoden had long desired to honor that alliance. Now that the formal summons had come, he did not hesitate. He began gathering his riders, fulfilling at last the ancient Oath of Eorl. And it was at that moment that Merry approached him.
The little Hobbit suddenly drew his short sword and knelt on one knee before the king.
"I have a sword," he said.
Holding it up in both hands, he looked up at Théoden and declared, "Your Majesty Théoden, please accept it. I, Meriadoc of the Shire, offer myself to your service."
Merry, too, was trying in his own way to do something meaningful.
"And I gladly accept," Théoden replied, a warm smile crossing his face as he gently helped the Hobbit to his feet.
"From this moment, I name you Meriadoc, squire of Rohan. You shall ride beside me and lend your aid."
Merry nodded eagerly, his heart alight with pride, and accepted the charge at once. And so, beside the King of Rohan, there now rode a Hobbit squire astride a small pony.
Meanwhile, as Théoden's call to arms echoed across the land, others too felt the stir of battle within them.
"I'd give anything to rally a full dwarven host," Gimli muttered, his blood burning as he watched the gathering Riders of Rohan. "Imagine it, an army clad in steel, riding mountain goats or boars, our heavy crossbows and war wagons rolling forth. That would be truly unstoppable."
Beside him on the same horse, Legolas guided the reins and said quietly, "Your kin need not march here to join the fight, Gimli. I fear they already have war enough of their own."
"Haven't you heard of the peril on the Brown Lands before the Black Gate? The Lonely Mountain, the Free Cities, and the Woodland Realm all stand together now, facing the Enemy in grim defiance."
"Elves, Dwarves, and Men, united once more..."
Legolas murmured the words, and Gimli listened, lowering his head with rare silence.
The darkness was spreading everywhere. No Free People who still drew breath could imagine themselves untouched by it.
For three whole days, the great host continued to gather. From cities, keeps, and far-off villages they came, all mustering for Gondor's aid.
Rohan's deep green banners streamed in the wind, and the white horses upon them seemed almost to leap to life, galloping beside the Riders themselves.
"Beneath the high walls of Minas Tirith," Théoden murmured, "the fate of our age shall be revealed..."
With that thought, he turned one last time to gaze upon the golden hall upon the hill, Meduseld, and then rode on, never looking back again.
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Completed at Chapter 405!
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