"I believe you find life such a problem
because you think there are good people
and bad people.
You're wrong, of course. There are,
always and only, the bad people,
but some of them are on opposite sides."

― Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

33. The White City

The ride continued, and now that Kat knew Gandalf could understand her she felt a little less lonely. But it was probably true he had to concentrate hard to do it, because half the times she said something he didn't reply. Or perhaps that was just his way.

Shortly before sunrise the day after they saw the beacons, they arrived at a grey stone wall which seemed to be still under construction. Despite the early hour there was a bustle of activity; men walked to and fro with wheelbarrows full of square stones, and a hammer sounded nearby. A row of torches spread light over the building site.

Pippin was sleeping as usual – he had done little else since his encounter with the palantír – so Gandalf turned to Kat when he described what they saw. "This is the Rammas Echor, a very long wall that surrounds the Pelennor Fields and Minas Tirith. It looks like they have posted guards in front of the opening, but I am well known in these parts so it should not be a problem to be let inside. But it is probably best if you hide in Pippin's cloak, just in case."

Certainly. Kat slipped under the soft, elvish fabric. Pippin moved in his sleep and wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head against his chest.

Though she enjoyed all forms of cuddling, Kat could not help but miss another one's arms – and his scent. Morosely she thought of how slim the chances were that she would ever feel that again; even if they both survived and were reunited, Legolas would be more careful now that he knew her feelings.

They arrived at the wall and Gandalf exchanged a few words with the guards. They spoke quickly and the sounds were muffled from under the cloak, but as far as Kat could understand the men were distrustful of the sleeping hobbit – and their leader Ingold seemed to think he was a dwarf.

Gandalf then praised Pippin's resourcefulness and bravery in a way Kat had never heard him do before, and even called him a "very valiant man".

"Man?" The guards chuckled.

Pippin had woken up during their conversation and straightened his back. "Man! Indeed not," he said indignantly. He was a hobbit, and not a very valiant one, either. They shouldn't listen to Gandalf.

Ingold seemed surprised at the outburst, but also curious. He had never heard of a 'hobbit' before.

Gandalf explained that Pippin was a halfling, and Pippin filled in that he had been travelling with a man from their city – a certain Boromir.

"Boromir!" That name certainly caught the men's attention. "You know where he is?"

"Is he not in the city?" asked Gandalf.

"Nay. He left last summer on an errand to Rivendell, and then about a fortnight ago scouts heard his horn in the northern marshes – it has a very characteristic sound, you know – but of the man himself there has been no sight.

"A fortnight, you say," mused Pippin. "That must have been when Merry and I were caught by the orc band; I remember Boromir blew his horn before coming to our aid. But then he should be here by now. Strider– I mean, Aragorn said that he–"

"Be quiet, Pippin," Gandalf snapped. "Those news are for his father first."

"Then pass on now quickly!" said Ingold. "The Lord of Minas Tirith will be eager to see any that bear tidings of his son, be he man or..." He hesitated.

"...hobbit," Pippin assisted.

Ingold and the other guards moved aside to let them through, wishing them a speedy journey and good counsel for Lord Denethor – which he sorely needed in this dark hour.

Gandalf dryly said that if they needed counsel, he could give it – for example, they were very late in repairing this wall. They had better just leave it open and go sharpen their swords.

"The work will be finished ere evening," said Ingold. They had saved this part of the wall to last, because they were waiting for their allies in Rohan. Did Gandalf know if they would come?

"Yes, they will come, but they have fought many battles at your back." If Gandalf had not intervened, an army from Isengard would have come this way instead of riders from Rohan.

With that he left the men to their work, and soon Shadowfax took off. His hooves thrummed a quick beat against the gravel road as he gained speed.

"Fool of a Took," muttered Gandalf when they were out of hearing range. "Do not speak Aragorn's name here."

"Why? What's wrong with Strider? He's coming to Minas Tirith too, isn't he?"

"If he comes, he will likely do so in some way that no one expects. We should not herald it. It will scarcely be helpful to him if the present lord is reached by rumors of the coming of one who will claim the kingship."

"Kingship?"

"Yes! If you have walked all these days with closed ears and mind asleep, Master Peregrin, it is time to wake up now."

Aragorn's going to be king of this country? Kat asked.

If we win the war and Frodo's mission is successful – then yes, he will become king of Gondor, and the reign of the stewards will come to an end. Gandalf sounded annoyed.

Kat wisely changed the subject. Strange that Boromir and Nellas aren't here yet. I hope nothing happened to them.

Gandalf sighed. They should be here. Unless... He didn't finish the sentence.

Unless what? Then she understood what he meant. Unless he decided to follow Frodo instead...

Gandalf didn't reply, but he lowered his bushy eyebrows in a deep frown which was answer enough.

Kat remembered the look on Boromir's face when he tried to take the Ring from Frodo that time. It might still have power over him, even after they parted. If he acted on the urge to pursue it, what would happen to Nellas? She had been wounded, and in need of a healer. Had he dumped her somewhere? Killed her?

No. She refused to believe Boromir could be so corrupted; even when wrestling with Frodo he had been careful not to hurt him. Perhaps he had just been delayed. Anything could happen on a river – bad weather, a leaking canoe, crocodile attacks... He would arrive in the city soon. He had to!

To get something else to think about, Kat emerged from her hiding place under Pippin's cloak and regarded their surroundings in the growing light of dawn. The road was wide, straight and well tended where it cut between brown fields and pastures with grazing sheep and cattle, and on one side was a ditch half full of sparkling water. White wisps of mist covered the fields and the air smelled fresh and earthy.

This must be where the city got its supplies from, she figured. There were plenty of barns, sheds and windmills, and the fields looked like they had recently been plowed. Between them she saw orchards with rows of neat fruit trees. Spring had come further in this country, for the trees were covered in blossoms and their sweet scent filled the air.

The only thing marring the otherwise quaint picture of a peaceful countryside was the complete lack of people. It seemed the war had cast its shadow over the area, forcing the farmers to leave their homes before the enemy arrived. What would be left of the Pelennor Fields if the enemy broke the wall? With a shudder Kat remembered the trampled, blood-stained grass the morning after the Battle of Helm's Deep. War was a wretched business.

Pippin had been looking around at the swiftly passing landscape as well, and now he suddenly gasped and pointed ahead. Kat followed his finger and squinted against the bright light of the sun that had just climbed over the distant mountains. It was something white, but still too far away for her to see.

"An impressive sight, indeed," said Gandalf in response to Pippin's awe.

A clear sound echoed out across the fields; trumpets.

"They greet the morning with music," Pippin murmured, still mesmerized by the sight.

The road was paved now, with large, asymmetrical slate slabs that were fitted together perfectly like pieces of a jigsaw. The black surface contrasted sharply with the white city walls they were approaching.

When they got close, Kat with her nearsightedness could finally see the beautiful city as well. It reminded her of an elegant wedding cake. Layer upon layer of white ascended above her, and from every battlement fluttered white banners. On top of it all was a crystal tower, graceful and shimmering like a frosted unicorn horn.

On seeing the tower, Kat realized she recognized Minas Tirith. This was the city from Galadriel's Mirror! It was here the Illuminati fake orcs would kill the sleeping children if she failed to save Gollum.

She tried to recall the rest of the visions. There had been images of herself climbing a volcano, and others where she was tracking someone across a rocky landscape. A stranger rider had carried her on his horse and dropped her there. There were also several images of hobbits; two fighting in the river mud, one picking up a ring, and – the black globe! She had seen Pippin with the palantír!

Suddenly chilled to the bone, Kat realized the future was already here; the visions had begun to happen. How long until she must walk completely alone in the wilderness? How long until she must climb the volcano? She still didn't feel ready.

/\_,,_.,
( O_O )

At the city gates there were more guards, but Gandalf sternly demanded entrance and was let in without questioning this time. They continued up the main street, which wound from layer to layer in wide semicircles, passing through one gate after the other – and the gates seemed to be placed at random, making their route to the top twice as long.

How unusual. I never saw a city constructed this way.

Gandalf did not reply; perhaps he was not focused enough to listen mentally. He seemed stressed, almost nervous, and urged Shadowfax on at a speed not really suitable for a densely populated area. Thankfully the streets were nearly empty, but one or two bypassers had to quickly jump aside to avoid getting trampled.

Here the streets were paved with a sand colored material and the buildings were whitewashed, making the surroundings almost too radiant in the reflecting sunshine. Most houses were square, and some had roof gardens with plants Kat associated with Mediterranean areas such as southern Spain or Greece: citrus-, olive- and fig trees, grapevines, bougainvillea and hibiscus. It was a lovely place and Kat instantly felt at home, city girl as she was.

Like in the countryside, the upcoming war was prominent. Many houses were abandoned, with barred windows and doors, and only naked frames remained of what must have been market stalls along the street. Kat saw no children and hardly any women, and the few men seemed grim and busy. It struck her however, that almost every one of them resembled Boromir and Aragorn – they had dark, wavy hair, yet rather fair skin tones – tanned, but not as much as one might expect from a southerner.

She did see one or two cats as well, and having learned her lesson from her encounter with Tommy, she resumed her hiding place under Pippin's cloak despite the heat. No more suitors, thank you very much!

Just before the top level of the city they had to dismount, because apparently horses were not allowed in there. The men who guarded the last gate wore black tunics decorated with striking embroideries: a flowering tree stitched in silver thread, and a crown and some stars above it.

A young groom came to take Shadowfax to a nearby stable. After a few murmured words from Gandalf, the Meara reluctantly went over to him.

"Shall I look after your cat too?" asked the groom.

"No. She comes with me."

"But–"

"She comes with me." Gandalf frowned, his eyes piercing the young man in a hard glare.

The groom's face turned pale and he hurriedly led Shadowfax away without further protests.

Awed, Kat looked up at the stern wizard. I'm impressed. If I'm ever back to teaching, I need to learn that menacing look!

But like before, Gandalf seemed to have his mental communication turned off. His focus was on the building at the other side of the gate, an elegant, castle-like house just beneath the gleaming tower.

The guards politely moved aside, apparently forewarned of their coming, and Gandalf strode out onto the last, seventh's level of the city with Pippin and Kat in tow. They walked across a neat courtyard surrounding a round grass lawn with a fountain in the middle. Beside the fountain pool stood a dead tree, looking rather odd and out of place.

Why is there a dead tree here?

This time Gandalf heard her and replied. The White Tree is a symbol for Gondor. It is said that when the king returns a new tree will be planted here and bear flower.

Kat remembered her Mirror visions again; there had been a flowering tree in one of them – this tree, but in the future? When the king returns... Aragorn? But she could not ask more, for now they had entered the citadel.

The wizard's steps echoed between the stone walls as the three of them walked down a long corridor, and the air felt cool despite the sunshine streaming in through a row of windows. Gandalf cautioned Pippin about the steward, telling him again to hold his tongue and stay silent about Aragorn, and of course Frodo and the Ring. Pippin nodded, looking rather scared and nervous. It seemed the man they were about to meet was quite intimidating.

Turning to Kat, Gandalf said: "You had better stay out of sight. I doubt Denethor appreciates finding a cat in his great hall, and I prefer not to explain what you are. He would hardly believe it anyway. Hide by the entrance if you can."

They had arrived at a big metal door. Gandalf knocked once, producing a resonating sound as from an old gong, and it swung open on silent hinges. With Pippin in tow he entered.

Kat obediently rounded the door and subtly slipped behind a silent manservant standing against the wall. From between his dainty black shoes and what looked like woolen pantyhose (but probably was something else), she curiously regarded the hall. It was oblong, with rows of black pillars holding up a high ceiling, and its many windows had rounded arches. This room gave her other associations than the city – not of Spain or Greece, but Italy. A somber Roman cathedral, or perhaps a monastery.

Gandalf and Pippin went to the far side of the hall, where a few steps led up to a throne on a dias. Behind it was the White Tree again, here carved in stone and decorated with diamonds in the shape of flowers. Maybe it had looked like that when it was alive.

A simple black chair stood on the lowest step beneath the throne, and on it sat an old man with a white rod in his hand. Denethor, steward of Gondor.

Kat couldn't help wondering if the kings and lords of this world spent all their time like that. She recalled how Galadriel and Celeborn had sat on their chairs in that huge tree, and Théoden on his gold chair in Edoras with Éowyn and Gríma as his only company. Didn't they get sore bums from all that sitting? And it must be horribly boring and lonesome too.

She glanced at the throne, which was hard and flat – not at all ergonomically designed – and wondered why Aragorn, with his fighter badassery and general awesomeness, aspired to it. Kingship seemed to be quite the opposite of his present adventurous and active lifestyle.

"Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion!" Gandalf's voice sounded hollow and booming in the empty room. "I am come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour."

Well, the dramatic speeches would suit Aragorn, at least. That would probably be his consolation when he entered the uncomfortable throne.

The steward looked up and exposed an almost sickly pale face, perhaps caused by sitting indoors for lengthy periods of time. His shoulder length hair was iron gray, and his forehead marred by a series of deep worry lines, but apart from those age signs Kat was surprised to find that he was actually a handsome man.* He looked like an older version of Aragorn, which was a bit strange since it was Boromir he was father to.

When he spoke, Denethor's voice was a deep, resonating bass which was unexpectedly pleasant as well, though he sounded angry at the moment. He used many long, complicated words that Kat did not understand, but she caught the brunt of his reply: the times were very bad, and at such times Gandalf – which he called Mithrandir – tended to come. The city was doomed, and Denethor's son had disappeared. "It has been told to me that you bring with you one who has news about my son. Is this he?" He indicated Pippin.

Gandalf confirmed that it was indeed so, this halfling was one of the Fellowship who had last seen Boromir.

Denethor did not seem pleased to meet a hobbit. Apparently some words mentioning a halfling was the reason Boromir had left his home, and at a very bad time too. And now he was gone, presumed dead. It would have been better if his other son Faramir had gone on the errand.

The old man suddenly turned to Pippin. "Thirteen days ago I heard Boromir's horn upon the northern marshes – the horn that I bore before him, as did each eldest son of our house. Since then I have sent many scouts there, but none have returned. What do you say to that, halfling?"

"Yes, yes... I was there," stammered Pippin. "He blew his horn but no help came, only more orcs. Maybe your scouts were taken by them? I just hope Boromir is well."

"Why did no help come?" Denethor leaned closer to Pippin, his eyes gleaming darkly. "Did you and your company abandon him to fight orcs on his own?"

Pippin had looked nervous at first, but now he blushed angrily and stood straighter while boldly meeting Denethor's gaze. "I was made prisoner or I would have helped him!"

"And all the others with you were made prisoners too?"

"No, only my kinsman Meriadoc and I. I was carried over the shoulder of an orc and swooned before I could see the end of it all, but the last I saw was how Nellas – an elf-maid who had followed us – saved Boromir from an arrow to his back. Later my friends told me what happened afterwards. Boromir survived but Nellas was injured, and he planned to take her here to be healed; that was why the company split up. He was not abandoned."

"An elf-maid saved him? Such a mighty man?" Denethor's voice was teeming with scorn and disbelief. "It should have been the other way around."

"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow, and nobody could be more mighty and valiant than he! I am certain the orcs would have ended me if he had not attacked them – all alone against a huge host. And that was not the first time he saved my life either, for earlier I was caught in the snow at Caradhras and he found me. I owe him my gratitude." Pippin's face was earnest. "Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire. Yet such as it is I will offer it in payment of my debt." He pulled out his sword and placed it on the floor in front of Denethor.

The steward seemed amused at that, but took him seriously and accepted Pippin's offer. He made the hobbit swear an oath of fealty and servitude, and then invited both Gandalf and him to a brief meal where Pippin could tell him more about his son. For, as he said, "the words of one whom my son so befriended will be welcome indeed."

Denethor rang a small bell. The servant Kat had been hiding behind swiftly moved forward and was instructed to call for refreshments. He gave Kat an odd look when he returned to his post afterwards, but thankfully said nothing.

For a full hour Denethor then fired questions at the poor Pippin, using an elaborate language that was hard for Kat to follow. She was beginning to feel very tired and her concentration wavered. Pippin seemed exhausted as well, and next to him Gandalf looked ready to explode.

When the ordeal was finally over, the two old men spoke rather harshly to each other before parting. Gandalf seemed annoyed that the steward had tried to pry information from Pippin instead of asking him, who knew more and sat there too, and Denethor said something about not wanting to be used as another man's tool. All he cared for was Gondor, and the rule of Gondor was his, nobody else's – unless the king should come again.

"Unless the king should come again," Gandalf repeated grimly. Then he said that he sought no rule, and that they shared a common goal. With that, he turned abruptly and strode out.

Pippin had to run to catch up, and Kat slunk after them just before the door closed. In the large, empty hall behind her, Denethor resumed his lonely vigil.

/\_,,_.,
( u _ u )

The guest lodgings lay near the wall that surrounded the top level of the city. Located on the second floor, their room had a stunning view north over the river Anduin.

Pippin climbed into the windowsill to look, and Kat nimbly jumped up next to him.

"I wonder where Boromir and Nellas are," he murmured, placing his hand on the cool glass.

Kat could not answer, but tried to comfort him with a friendly rub against his leg.

Turning to Gandalf, Pippin asked if he was angry. "I did the best I could."

Laughing, Gandalf came over to them. "Indeed you did your best." He gave Pippin a half-hug. "I hope that it may be long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between two such terrible old men."

From their continued conversation, Kat understood that Denethor was an exceptionally sly man who had managed to get quite a lot of information from Pippin despite his efforts to be vague. In addition Pippin was now his servant and must start working in the citadel the next day.

Gandalf, for his part, had to return already today. He needed information about Faramir, Boromir's brother, who apparently was away from the city. "I intend to send him north to where the Fellowship separated. Faramir is a ranger like Aragorn; if anyone could track Boromir it is he." Then he turned to Kat. "In addition to that, I have hope he can find Frodo, and where Frodo goes, Gollum follows. The time draws near for your task, Kat. Stay here while I am gone, but be prepared to leave at a short notice."

When the wizard had left them, Pippin turned to Kat with a weak smile. "I guess we'll have to amuse ourselves the best we can on my last day off."

Kat nodded.

"Are you hungry? I feel like I could eat three breakfasts."

Kat nodded again, a lot more vigorously.

"Do these people ever have it, I wonder, or is it over? And when do they have dinner, and where? Let's go and find out."

They had just shut the guesthouse door when they were met by a middle-aged guard who introduced himself as Beregond. He had come to show Pippin around, and teach him all he needed to know for his new job as a citadel guard.

"But you cannot bring your cat with you, I'm afraid." Beregond bent down to pet Kat. "What happened to its ear? And why does it wear a harness?"

"Her ear was torn in Moria, when the orcs– But anyway, that's a long story."

"I would like to hear it sometime, but I forget my errand. What would you know, Master Peregrin?"

Looking embarrassed, Pippin mumbled something about breakfast, and where to find dinner, and were there any inns in this city? He would not say no to a draught of ale.

His request seemed to impress the man, for apparently he took it as a sign that Pippin was a seasoned warrior who always needed to know where to find his next meal. "Take your pet back to your room, and I shall show you around. A servant will see to its needs."

Kat had wanted to explore the city too, but felt it was not worth it to make a fuss, so when Beregond opened the door she obediently trotted inside. At least this meant she could take a well-earned nap.

/\_,,_.,
( –ᆽ– )

Pippin and Gandalf were gone all day, and Kat had a very peaceful time. She slept, ate fish and cream brought in by a page, and then slept some more.

In the evening Pippin returned, tired but happy. He eagerly described to Kat all he had seen and learned, and the meals he had had. First he had been with Beregond, and then with his young son Bergil.

"We saw lots of fine lords and captains riding into the city for the upcoming war, and thousands of warriors. But also some dark sights." Pippin's face became serious. "It's possible to see Mordor from here; the Dark Lord's realm. He's on his way. And also... Beregond said a great fleet is coming up the river – allies of the enemy – and they have cut off all aid from the armies of southern Gondor. I hope Strider and the Riders from Rohan arrive soon, for the city desperately needs their help."

Kat jumped into his lap and began to purr calmingly. She figured it was no use worrying over things they couldn't do anything about. The Rohirrim would come, and in addition they had Gandalf, right? She had not forgotten how powerful he had been when facing the balrog, and later in his encounter with Saruman.

As usual her purring worked. Pippin relaxed, and not long after he fell asleep, fully clothed on his bed while cradling Kat in his arms.

Late at night Gandalf finally came back, annoyed and frustrated. Faramir is still not here, he thought curtly, with that distant, weak inner voice he had. I need him! He went over to the window, glaring through it at the many lights of the city as if he could summon the man with his gaze. I fear– No. I shall not trouble you with my fears. Go back to sleep.

I've slept all day. What do you fear?

I have no energy for speaking this way.

Then speak with your voice – I understand quite a lot nowadays. Perhaps talking about what troubles you will make you feel better?

"Well then." He sighed. "You already know I worry that Boromir has been seduced by the Ring and turned east to pursue Frodo. But now I also fear for his father. I think the steward may have found another of the palantír – a stone like the one in Isengard. He knows too much for my liking, things he should not know. About Aragorn. The last thing we need is a fight among ourselves, but if he refuses to accept that the king has returned that may well be the case."

How can Aragorn be king of this country? He's not even from here.

"It is his birthright as Elendil's last heir." Gandalf sat down beside her, a bit calmer now.

Elendil... I've heard that name several times now. Who was he?

"I still don't fully comprehend why Námo needs Gollum to survive, or why he chose you for the task, but since it somehow involves Aragorn and the line of Elendil I suppose you have a right to know his history." In a low voice to not wake Pippin, he then told her the whole tale. Many centuries ago, Aragorn's forefather Elendil was high king of the Dúnedain, who lived in two countries; Arnor in the north, and Gondor in the south. It was he who planted the first White Tree.

Elendil joined the War of the Last Alliance, a lengthy siege that ended with a combat against the Dark Lord himself, right outside the black gates of Mordor. Here Elendil was slain and his sword Narsil broken, but his son Isildur picked up a shard and used it to cut off Sauron's finger – the one where he wore the Ring – and thus managed to defeat him.

Afterwards, Isildur claimed the Ring for his own, going against the advice of Elrond and other wise elves. That was the end of him. He was corrupted by it, and lost both his life and the Ring in the river Anduin (where Gollum later found it). Isildur's nephew took over the rule in Gondor, but his son – just a boy at the time – became king of Arnor and the northern Dúnedain.

Over the years, Sauron regained his power; it was clear that without destroying the Ring he could never be fully defeated. His servants picked the kingdom of Arnor apart, piece by piece, until the remaining Dúnedain were reduced to rangers, living hidden and roaming the north on secret paths while the rest of the world forgot about them. But the shards of Narsil and the heirs of Isildur were kept safe by the elves in Rivendell, and there each new ranger chieftain was raised – including Aragorn.

Meanwhile in Gondor, kings of the line of Isildur's brother continued to rule, until one day the thirty-third king accepted a foolish challenge to attack the witch-king of Angmar – Lord of the Nazgûl and Sauron's second in command. A steward took over the rule until the return of the king, but of course he never came back, and he had no heir. And that was why stewards had ruled Gondor ever since.

"The rest you already know. When I realized it was the One Ring Frodo's uncle had found, I knew the time had come for the high king to return. The elves reforged the shards of Narsil into Aragorn's sword Andúril, and he set out with the Fellowship to help Frodo destroy the Ring. With Frodo continuing alone, Aragorn probably intends to come here and lead his people, and save what he can of his kingdom until the Dark Lord hopefully is defeated for good."

Kat nodded slowly. And Denethor doesn't want to give up his lordship.

"Not likely, no."

Boromir would, though – he called Aragorn his king before they parted. And actually... I can't believe he would betray Frodo again – not when he's with Nellas.

"What difference can an elf-maid make?"

She's very special. Kat tried to describe what Nellas was like since Gandalf hadn't met her, but found it was not easy. She really was one of a kind.

"I hope you are right." Gandalf rose from the bed and returned to the window, squinting through the darkness. "But where is Faramir?"

A/N:

*) I mostly envision the movie actors when I describe the canon characters in this story, but for Denethor I obviously don't haha. He's quite different in the book than his movie persona. In my head, he looks a bit like Viggo does today, or maybe like Alan Rickman did in his later years. But prouder, and with long hair. :)

Big hug to all of you who still follow this story. Your comments, votes and cheering me on mean more than you think! 

Image Credits:

Screenshot from The Lord of the Rings movies.