The road that
we have climbed is the approach to the Door, yonder in the Dimholt. But what lies beyond no man knows.’
‘No man knows,’ said Théoden: ‘yet ancient legend, now seldom spoken, has somewhat to report. If these old tales speak true
that have come down from father to son in the House of Eorl, then the Door under Dwimorberg leads to a secret way that goes
beneath the mountain to some forgotten end. But none have ever ventured in to search its secrets, since Baldor , son of Brego,
passed the Door and was never seen among men again. A rash vow he spoke, as he drained the horn at that feast which Brego
made to hallow new-built Meduseld, and he came never to the high seat of which he was the heir.
‘Folk say that Dead Men out of the Dark Years guard the way and will suffer no living man to come to their hidden halls; but
at whiles they may themselves be seen passing out of the door like shadows and down the stony road. Then the people of Harrowdale
shut fast their doors and shroud their windows and are afraid. But the Dead come seldom forth and only at times of great unquiet
and coming death.’
‘Yet it is said in Harrowdale,’ said Éowyn in a low voice, ‘that in the moonless nights but little while ago a great host
in strange array passed by. Whence they came none knew, but they went up the stony road and vanished into the hill, as if
they went to keep a tryst.’
‘Then why has Aragorn gone that way?’ asked Merry. ‘Don’t you know anything that would explain it?’
‘Unless he has spoken words to you as his friend that we have not heard,’ said Éomer, ‘none now in the land of the living
can tell his purpose.’
‘Greatly changed he seemed to me since I saw him first in the king’s house,’ said Éowyn: ‘grimmer, older. Fey I thought him,
and like one whom the Dead call.’
‘Maybe he was called,’ said Théoden; ‘and my heart tells me that I shall not see him again. Yet he is a kingly man of high
destiny. And take comfort in this, daughter, since comfort you seem to need in your grief for this guest. It is said that
when the Eorlingas came out of the North and passed at length up the Snowbourn, seeking strong places of refuge in time of
need, Brego and his son Baldor climbed the Stair of the Hold and so came before the Door. On the threshold sat an old man,
aged beyond guess of years; tall and kingly he had been, but now he was withered as an old stone. Indeed for stone they took
him, for he moved not, and he said no word, until they sought to pass him by and enter. And then a voice came out of him,
as it were out of the ground, and to their amaze it spoke in the western tongue:
The way is shut
.
‘Then they halted and looked at him and saw that he lived still; but he did not look at them.
The way is shut
, his voice said again.
It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut
.
‘
And when will that time be?
said Baldor. But no answer did he ever get. For the old man died in that hour and fell upon his face; and no other tidings
of the ancient dwellers in the mountains have our folk ever learned. Yet maybe at last the time foretold has come, and Aragorn
may pass.’
‘But how shall a man discover whether that time be come or no, save by daring the Door?’ said Éomer. ‘And that way I would
not go though all the hosts of Mordor stood before me, and I were alone and had no other refuge. Alas that a fey mood should
fall on a man so greathearted in this hour of need! Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the
earth? War is at hand.’
He paused, for at that moment there was a noise outside,a man’s voice crying the name of Théoden, and the challenge of the guard.
Presently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain. ‘A man is here, lord,’ he said, ‘an errand-rider of Gondor. He
wishes to come before you at once.’
‘Let him come!’ said Théoden.
A tall
we have climbed is the approach to the Door, yonder in the Dimholt. But what lies beyond no man knows.’
‘No man knows,’ said Théoden: ‘yet ancient legend, now seldom spoken, has somewhat to report. If these old tales speak true
that have come down from father to son in the House of Eorl, then the Door under Dwimorberg leads to a secret way that goes
beneath the mountain to some forgotten end. But none have ever ventured in to search its secrets, since Baldor , son of Brego,
passed the Door and was never seen among men again. A rash vow he spoke, as he drained the horn at that feast which Brego
made to hallow new-built Meduseld, and he came never to the high seat of which he was the heir.
‘Folk say that Dead Men out of the Dark Years guard the way and will suffer no living man to come to their hidden halls; but
at whiles they may themselves be seen passing out of the door like shadows and down the stony road. Then the people of Harrowdale
shut fast their doors and shroud their windows and are afraid. But the Dead come seldom forth and only at times of great unquiet
and coming death.’
‘Yet it is said in Harrowdale,’ said Éowyn in a low voice, ‘that in the moonless nights but little while ago a great host
in strange array passed by. Whence they came none knew, but they went up the stony road and vanished into the hill, as if
they went to keep a tryst.’
‘Then why has Aragorn gone that way?’ asked Merry. ‘Don’t you know anything that would explain it?’
‘Unless he has spoken words to you as his friend that we have not heard,’ said Éomer, ‘none now in the land of the living
can tell his purpose.’
‘Greatly changed he seemed to me since I saw him first in the king’s house,’ said Éowyn: ‘grimmer, older. Fey I thought him,
and like one whom the Dead call.’
‘Maybe he was called,’ said Théoden; ‘and my heart tells me that I shall not see him again. Yet he is a kingly man of high
destiny. And take comfort in this, daughter, since comfort you seem to need in your grief for this guest. It is said that
when the Eorlingas came out of the North and passed at length up the Snowbourn, seeking strong places of refuge in time of
need, Brego and his son Baldor climbed the Stair of the Hold and so came before the Door. On the threshold sat an old man,
aged beyond guess of years; tall and kingly he had been, but now he was withered as an old stone. Indeed for stone they took
him, for he moved not, and he said no word, until they sought to pass him by and enter. And then a voice came out of him,
as it were out of the ground, and to their amaze it spoke in the western tongue:
The way is shut
.
‘Then they halted and looked at him and saw that he lived still; but he did not look at them.
The way is shut
, his voice said again.
It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut
.
‘
And when will that time be?
said Baldor. But no answer did he ever get. For the old man died in that hour and fell upon his face; and no other tidings
of the ancient dwellers in the mountains have our folk ever learned. Yet maybe at last the time foretold has come, and Aragorn
may pass.’
‘But how shall a man discover whether that time be come or no, save by daring the Door?’ said Éomer. ‘And that way I would
not go though all the hosts of Mordor stood before me, and I were alone and had no other refuge. Alas that a fey mood should
fall on a man so greathearted in this hour of need! Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the
earth? War is at hand.’
He paused, for at that moment there was a noise outside,a man’s voice crying the name of Théoden, and the challenge of the guard.
Presently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain. ‘A man is here, lord,’ he said, ‘an errand-rider of Gondor. He
wishes to come before you at once.’
‘Let him come!’ said Théoden.
A tall
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