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divided in confusion of hearts。' Now he dismounted and bade Shadowfax return to his stable。 'For；
my friend；' he said； 'you and I should have ridden to the fields long ago； but other matters delay me。
Yet e swiftly if I call！'
They passed the Door and walked on down the steep winding road。 Light was growing； and the
tall columns and carven figures beside the way went slowly by like grey ghosts。
Suddenly the silence was broken； and they heard below them cries and the ringing of swords：
such sounds as had not been heard in the hallowed places since the building of the City。 At last they
came to Rath Dínen and hastened towards the House of the Stewards； looming in the twilight under
its great dome。
'Stay！ Stay！' cried Gandalf； springing forward to the stone stair before the door。 'Stay this
madness！'
For there were the servants of Denethor with swords and torches in their hands； but alone in the
porch upon the topmost step stood Beregond； clad in the black and silver of the Guard； and he held
the door against them。 Two of them had already fallen to his sword； staining the hallows with their
blood； and the others cursed him； calling him outlaw and traitor to his master。
Even as Gandalf and Pippin ran forward； they heard from within the house of the dead the voice
of Denethor crying： 'Haste； haste！ Do as I have bidden！ Slay me this renegade！ Or must I do so
myself？' Thereupon the door which Beregond held shut with his left hand was wrenched open； and
there behind him stood the Lord of the City； tall and fell； a light like flame was in his eyes； and he
held a drawn sword。
But Gandalf sprang up the steps； and the men fell back from him and covered their eyes； for his
ing was like the ining of a white light into a dark place； and he came with great anger。 He
lifted up his hand； and in the very stroke； the sword of Denethor flew up and left his grasp and fell
behind him in the shadows of the house； and Denethor stepped backward before Gandalf as one
amazed。
'What is this； my lord？' said the wizard。 'The houses of the dead are no places for the living。 And
why do men fight here in the Hallows when there is war enough before the Gate？ Or has our
Enemy e even to Rath Dínen？'
'Since when has the Lord of Gondor been answerable to thee？' said Denethor。 'Or may I not
mand my own servants？'
'You may；' said Gandalf。 'But others may contest your will； when it is turned to madness and
evil。 Where is your son； Faramir？'
'He lies within；' said Denethor； 'burning； already burning。 They have set a fire in his flesh。 But
soon all shall be burned。 The West has failed。 It shall all go up in a great fire； and all shall be ended。
Ash！ Ash and smoke blown away on the wind！'
Then Gandalf seeing the madness that was on him feared that he had already done some evil
deed； and he thrust forward； with Beregond and Pippin behind him； while Denethor gave back until
he stood beside the table within。 But there they found Faramir； still dreaming in his fever； lying
upon the table。 Wood was piled under it； and high all about it； and all was drenched with oil； even
the garments of Faramir and the coverlets； but as yet no fire had been set to the fuel。 Then Gandalf
revealed the strength that lay hid in him； even as the light of his power was hidden under his grey
mantle。 He leaped up on to the faggots； and raising the sick man lightly he sprang down again； and
bore him towards the door。 But as he did so Faramir moaned and called on his father in his dream。
Denethor started as one waking from a trance； and the flame died in his eyes； and he wept； and
he said： 'Do not take my son from me！ He calls for me。'
'He calls；' said Gandalf； 'but you cannot e to him yet。 For he must seek healing on the
threshold of death； and maybe find it not。 Whereas your part is to go out to the battle of your City；
where maybe death awaits you。 This you know in your heart。'
'He will not wake again；' said Denethor。 'Battle is vain。 Why should we wish to live longer？
Why should we not go to death side by side？'
'Authority is not given to you； Steward of Gondor； to order the hour of your death；' answered
Gandalf。 'And only the heathen kings； under the domination of the Dark Power； did thus； slaying
themselves in pride and despair； murdering their kin to ease their own death。' Then passing through
the door he took Faramir from the deadly house and laid him on the bier on which he had been
brought； and which had now been set in the porch。 Denethor followed him； and stood trembling；
looking with longing on the face of his son。 And for a moment； while all were silent and still；
watching the Lord in his throes； he wavered。
'e！' said Gandalf。 'We are needed。 There is much that you can yet do。'
Then suddenly Denethor laughed。 He stood up tall and proud again； and stepping swiftly back to
the table he lifted from it the pillow on which his head had lain。 Then ing to the doorway he
drew aside the covering； and lo！ he had between his hands a _palantír_。 And as he held it up； it
seemed to those that looked on that the globe began to glow with an inner flame； so that the lean
face of the Lord was lit as with a red fire； and it seemed cut out of hard stone； sharp with black
shadows； noble； proud； and terrible。 His eyes glittered。
'Pride and despair！' he cried。 'Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind？ Nay；
I have seen more than thou knowest； Grey Fool。 For thy hope is but ignorance。 Go then and labour
in healing！ Go forth and fight！ Vanity。 For a little space you may triumph on the field； for a day。
But against the Power that now arises there is no victory。 To this City only the first finger of its
hand has yet been stretched。 All the East is moving。 And even now the wind of thy hope cheats thee
and wafts up Anduin a fleet with black sails。 The West has failed。 It is time for all to depart who
would not be slaves。'
'Such counsels will make the Enemy's victory certain indeed；' said Gandalf。
'Hope on then！' laughed Denethor。 'Do I not know thee； Mithrandir？ Thy hope is