Read Online The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. R. R. Tolkien
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was Aragorn, and Halbarad bearing the great staff close-furled in black, and two tall men, neither
young nor old. So much alike were they, the sons of Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their
faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey. Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry
had eyes only for Aragorn, so startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many years had fallen on his
head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.
‘I am troubled in mind, lord,’ he said, standing by the king’s horse. ‘I have heard strange words, and I see new perils far
off. I have laboured long in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me, Théoden, you ride now to Dunharrow,
how long will it be ere you come there?’
‘It is now a full hour past noon,’ said Éomer. ‘Before the night of the third day from now we should come to the Hold. The
Moon will then be two nights past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held the day after. More speed
we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be gathered.’
Aragorn was silent for a moment. ‘Three days,’ he murmured, ‘and the muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it
cannot now be hastened.’ He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some decision; his face was less troubled. ‘Then, by
your leave, lord, I must take new counsel for myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For
me the time of stealth has passed. Iwill ride east by the swiftest way, and I will take the Paths of the Dead.’
‘The Paths of the Dead!’ said Théoden, and trembled. ‘Why do you speak of them?’ Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it
seemed to Merry that the faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words. ‘If there be in truth such
paths,’ said Théoden, ‘their gate is in Dunharrow; but no living man may pass it.’
‘Alas! Aragorn my friend!’ said Éomer. ‘I had hoped that we should ride to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the
Dead, then our parting is come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the Sun.’
‘That road I will take, nonetheless,’ said Aragorn. ‘But I say to you, Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though
all the hosts of Mordor should stand between.’
‘You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,’ said Théoden. ‘It is your doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare
not. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the mountain-roads and delay no longer.
Farewell!’
‘Farewell, lord!’ said Aragorn. ‘Ride unto great renown! Farewell, Merry! I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped
when we hunted the orcs to Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we shall not forget you.’
‘Good-bye!’ said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very small, and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy
words. More than ever he missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were ready, and their horses were fidgeting;
he wished they would start and get it over.
Now Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand and cried aloud, and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode
over the Dike and down the Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that skirted the foothills for a mile
or so, until bending south it passed back among the hills and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode tothe Dike and watched till the king’s men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.
‘There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,’ he said. ‘He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew,
he still would go on.’
‘A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,’ said Halbarad. ‘Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping
of their
young nor old. So much alike were they, the sons of Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their
faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey. Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry
had eyes only for Aragorn, so startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many years had fallen on his
head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.
‘I am troubled in mind, lord,’ he said, standing by the king’s horse. ‘I have heard strange words, and I see new perils far
off. I have laboured long in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me, Théoden, you ride now to Dunharrow,
how long will it be ere you come there?’
‘It is now a full hour past noon,’ said Éomer. ‘Before the night of the third day from now we should come to the Hold. The
Moon will then be two nights past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held the day after. More speed
we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be gathered.’
Aragorn was silent for a moment. ‘Three days,’ he murmured, ‘and the muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it
cannot now be hastened.’ He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some decision; his face was less troubled. ‘Then, by
your leave, lord, I must take new counsel for myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For
me the time of stealth has passed. Iwill ride east by the swiftest way, and I will take the Paths of the Dead.’
‘The Paths of the Dead!’ said Théoden, and trembled. ‘Why do you speak of them?’ Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it
seemed to Merry that the faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words. ‘If there be in truth such
paths,’ said Théoden, ‘their gate is in Dunharrow; but no living man may pass it.’
‘Alas! Aragorn my friend!’ said Éomer. ‘I had hoped that we should ride to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the
Dead, then our parting is come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the Sun.’
‘That road I will take, nonetheless,’ said Aragorn. ‘But I say to you, Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though
all the hosts of Mordor should stand between.’
‘You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,’ said Théoden. ‘It is your doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare
not. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the mountain-roads and delay no longer.
Farewell!’
‘Farewell, lord!’ said Aragorn. ‘Ride unto great renown! Farewell, Merry! I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped
when we hunted the orcs to Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we shall not forget you.’
‘Good-bye!’ said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very small, and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy
words. More than ever he missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were ready, and their horses were fidgeting;
he wished they would start and get it over.
Now Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand and cried aloud, and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode
over the Dike and down the Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that skirted the foothills for a mile
or so, until bending south it passed back among the hills and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode tothe Dike and watched till the king’s men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.
‘There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,’ he said. ‘He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew,
he still would go on.’
‘A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,’ said Halbarad. ‘Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping
of their
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