man entered, and Merry choked back a cry; for a moment it seemed to him that Boromir was alive again and had returned.
Then he saw that it was not so; the man was a stranger, though as like to Boromir as if he were one of his kin, tall and grey-eyed
and proud. He was clad as a rider with a cloak of dark green over a coat of fine mail; on the front of his helm was wrought
a small silver star. In his hand he bore a single arrow, black-feathered and barbed with steel, but the point was painted
red.
He sank on one knee and presented the arrow to Théoden. ‘Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!’ he said. ‘Hirgon I
am, errand-rider of Denethor, who bring you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us,
but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all your speed, lest Gondor fall at last.’
‘The Red Arrow!’ said Théoden, holding it, as one who receives a summons long expected and yet dreadful when it comes. His
hand trembled. ‘The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to that? And what does the
Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my speed may be?’
‘That is best known to yourself, lord,’ said Hirgon. ‘But ere long it may well come to pass that Minas Tirith is surrounded,
and unless you have the strength to break a siege of many powers, the Lord Denethor bids me say that he judges that the strong
arms of the Rohirrim would be better within his walls than without.’
‘But he knows that we are a people who fight rather upon horseback and in the open, and that we are also a scattered people
and time is needed for the gathering of our Riders. Isit not true, Hirgon, that the Lord of Minas Tirith knows more than he sets in his message? For we are already at war, as you
may have seen, and you do not find us all unprepared. Gandalf the Grey has been among us, and even now we are mustering for
battle in the East.’
‘What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot say,’ answered Hirgon. ‘But indeed our case is desperate.
My lord does not issue any command to you, he begs you only to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken, and for your
own good to do all that you may. It is reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of Mordor.
From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumour of war. In the South the Haradrim are moving, and fear
has fallen on all our coastlands, so that little help will come to us thence. Make haste! For it is before the walls of Minas
Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided, and if the tide be not stemmed there, then it will flow over all the fair
fields of Rohan, and even in this Hold among the hills there shall be no refuge.’
‘Dark tidings,’ said Théoden, ‘yet not all unguessed. But say to Denethor that even if Rohan itself felt no peril, still we
would come to his aid. But we have suffered much loss in our battles with Saruman the traitor, and we must still think of
our frontier to the north and east, as his own tidings make clear. So great a power as the Dark Lord seems now to wield might
well contain us in battle before the City and yet strike with great force across the River away beyond the Gate of Kings.
‘But we will speak no longer counsels of prudence. We will come. The weapontake was set for the morrow. When all is ordered
we will set out. Ten thousand spears I might have sent riding over the plain to the dismay of your foes. It will be less now,
I fear; for I will not leave my strongholds all unguarded. Yet six thousands at the least shall ride behind me. For say to
Denethor that in this hour the King of the Mark himself will come down to the land of Gondor, though maybe he will not ride
back. But it is a long road, and manand beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it may be from tomorrow’s morn ere you hear the cry of the Sons
of
Then he saw that it was not so; the man was a stranger, though as like to Boromir as if he were one of his kin, tall and grey-eyed
and proud. He was clad as a rider with a cloak of dark green over a coat of fine mail; on the front of his helm was wrought
a small silver star. In his hand he bore a single arrow, black-feathered and barbed with steel, but the point was painted
red.
He sank on one knee and presented the arrow to Théoden. ‘Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!’ he said. ‘Hirgon I
am, errand-rider of Denethor, who bring you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us,
but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all your speed, lest Gondor fall at last.’
‘The Red Arrow!’ said Théoden, holding it, as one who receives a summons long expected and yet dreadful when it comes. His
hand trembled. ‘The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to that? And what does the
Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my speed may be?’
‘That is best known to yourself, lord,’ said Hirgon. ‘But ere long it may well come to pass that Minas Tirith is surrounded,
and unless you have the strength to break a siege of many powers, the Lord Denethor bids me say that he judges that the strong
arms of the Rohirrim would be better within his walls than without.’
‘But he knows that we are a people who fight rather upon horseback and in the open, and that we are also a scattered people
and time is needed for the gathering of our Riders. Isit not true, Hirgon, that the Lord of Minas Tirith knows more than he sets in his message? For we are already at war, as you
may have seen, and you do not find us all unprepared. Gandalf the Grey has been among us, and even now we are mustering for
battle in the East.’
‘What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot say,’ answered Hirgon. ‘But indeed our case is desperate.
My lord does not issue any command to you, he begs you only to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken, and for your
own good to do all that you may. It is reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of Mordor.
From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumour of war. In the South the Haradrim are moving, and fear
has fallen on all our coastlands, so that little help will come to us thence. Make haste! For it is before the walls of Minas
Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided, and if the tide be not stemmed there, then it will flow over all the fair
fields of Rohan, and even in this Hold among the hills there shall be no refuge.’
‘Dark tidings,’ said Théoden, ‘yet not all unguessed. But say to Denethor that even if Rohan itself felt no peril, still we
would come to his aid. But we have suffered much loss in our battles with Saruman the traitor, and we must still think of
our frontier to the north and east, as his own tidings make clear. So great a power as the Dark Lord seems now to wield might
well contain us in battle before the City and yet strike with great force across the River away beyond the Gate of Kings.
‘But we will speak no longer counsels of prudence. We will come. The weapontake was set for the morrow. When all is ordered
we will set out. Ten thousand spears I might have sent riding over the plain to the dismay of your foes. It will be less now,
I fear; for I will not leave my strongholds all unguarded. Yet six thousands at the least shall ride behind me. For say to
Denethor that in this hour the King of the Mark himself will come down to the land of Gondor, though maybe he will not ride
back. But it is a long road, and manand beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it may be from tomorrow’s morn ere you hear the cry of the Sons
of
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