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Then
men
fell
back
before
the
command
of
his
voice
and
questioned
him
no
further
,
though
they
gazed
in
wonder
at
the
hobbit
that
sat
before
him
and
at
the
horse
that
bore
him
.
For
the
people
of
the
City
used
horses
very
little
and
they
were
seldom
seen
in
their
streets
,
save
only
those
ridden
by
the
errand-riders
of
their
lord
.
And
they
said
:
'
Surely
that
is
one
of
the
great
steeds
of
the
King
of
Rohan
?
Maybe
the
Rohirrim
will
come
soon
to
strengthen
us
.
'
But
Shadowfax
walked
proudly
up
the
long
winding
road
.
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
.
But
the
gates
were
not
set
in
a
line
:
the
Great
Gate
in
the
City
Wall
was
at
the
east
point
of
the
circuit
,
but
the
next
faced
half
south
,
and
the
third
half
north
,
and
so
to
and
fro
upwards
;
so
that
the
paved
way
that
climbed
towards
the
Citadel
turned
first
this
way
and
then
that
across
the
face
of
the
hill
.
And
each
time
that
it
passed
the
line
of
the
Great
Gate
it
went
through
an
arched
tunnel
,
piercing
a
vast
pier
of
rock
whose
huge
out-thrust
bulk
divided
in
two
all
the
circles
of
the
City
save
the
first
.
For
partly
in
the
primeval
shaping
of
the
hill
,
partly
by
the
mighty
craft
and
labour
of
old
,
there
stood
up
from
the
rear
of
the
wide
court
behind
the
Gate
a
towering
bastion
of
stone
,
its
edge
sharp
as
a
ship-keel
facing
east
.
Up
it
rose
,
even
to
the
level
of
the
topmost
circle
,
and
there
was
crowned
by
a
battlement
;
so
that
those
in
the
Citadel
might
,
like
mariners
in
a
mountainous
ship
,
look
from
its
peak
sheer
down
upon
the
Gate
seven
hundred
feet
below
.
The
entrance
to
the
Citadel
also
looked
eastward
,
but
was
delved
in
the
heart
of
the
rock
;
thence
a
long
lamp-lit
slope
ran
up
to
the
seventh
gate
.
Thus
men
reached
at
last
the
High
Court
,
and
the
Place
of
the
Fountain
before
the
feet
of
the
White
Tower
:
tall
and
shapely
,
fifty
fathoms
from
its
base
to
the
pinnacle
,
where
the
banner
of
the
Stewards
floated
a
thousand
feet
above
the
plain
.
A
strong
citadel
it
was
indeed
,
and
not
to
be
taken
by
a
host
of
enemies
,
if
there
were
any
within
that
could
hold
weapons
;
unless
some
foe
could
come
behind
and
scale
the
lower
skirts
of
Mindolluin
,
and
so
come
upon
the
narrow
shoulder
that
joined
the
Hill
of
Guard
to
the
mountain
mass
.
But
that
shoulder
,
which
rose
to
the
height
of
the
fifth
wall
,
was
hedged
with
great
ramparts
right
up
to
the
precipice
that
overhung
its
western
end
;
and
in
that
space
stood
the
houses
and
domed
tombs
of
bygone
kings
and
lords
,
for
ever
silent
between
the
mountain
and
the
tower
.
Pippin
gazed
in
growing
wonder
at
the
great
stone
city
,
vaster
and
more
splendid
than
anything
that
he
had
dreamed
of
;
greater
and
stronger
than
Isengard
,
and
far
more
beautiful
.
Yet
it
was
in
truth
falling
year
by
year
into
decay
;
and
already
it
lacked
half
the
men
that
could
have
dwelt
at
ease
there
.
In
every
street
they
passed
some
great
house
or
court
over
whose
doors
and
arched
gates
were
carved
many
fair
letters
of
strange
and
ancient
shapes
:
names
Pippin
guessed
of
great
men
and
kindreds
that
had
once
dwelt
there
;
and
yet
now
they
were
silent
,
and
no
footsteps
rang
on
their
wide
pavements
,
nor
voice
was
heard
in
their
halls
,
nor
any
face
looked
out
from
door
or
empty
window
.
At
last
they
came
out
of
shadow
to
the
seventh
gate
,
and
the
warm
sun
that
shone
down
beyond
the
river
,
as
Frodo
walked
in
the
glades
of
Ithilien
,
glowed
here
on
the
smooth
walls
and
rooted
pillars
,
and
the
great
arch
with
keystone
carven
in
the
likeness
of
a
crowned
and
kingly
head
.
Gandalf
dismounted
,
for
no
horse
was
allowed
in
the
Citadel
,
and
Shadowfax
suffered
himself
to
be
led
away
at
the
soft
word
of
his
master
.
The
Guards
of
the
gate
were
robed
in
black
,
and
their
helms
were
of
strange
shape
,
high-crowned
,
with
long
cheek-guards
close-fitting
to
the
face
,
and
above
the
cheek-guards
were
set
the
white
wings
of
sea-birds
;
but
the
helms
gleamed
with
a
flame
of
silver
,
for
they
were
indeed
wrought
of
mithril
,
heirlooms
from
the
glory
of
old
days
.
Upon
the
black
surcoats
were
embroidered
in
white
a
tree
blossoming
like
snow
beneath
a
silver
crown
and
many-pointed
stars
.
This
was
the
livery
of
the
heirs
of
Elendil
,
and
none
wore
it
now
in
all
Gondor
,
save
the
Guards
of
the
Citadel
before
the
Court
of
the
Fountain
where
the
White
Tree
once
had
grown
.
Already
it
seemed
that
word
of
their
coming
had
gone
before
them
:
and
at
once
they
were
admitted
,
silently
,
and
without
question
.
Quickly
Gandalf
strode
across
the
white-paved
court
.
A
sweet
fountain
played
there
in
the
morning
sun
,
and
a
sward
of
bright
green
lay
about
it
;
but
in
the
midst
.
drooping
over
the
pool
,
stood
a
dead
tree
,
and
the
falling
drops
dripped
sadly
from
its
barren
and
broken
branches
back
into
the
clear
water
.
