3. Siege

Through the air elven arrows flew,
Orc and troll and man they slew.
The archers aimed their arrows high
And sent them bolting through the sky.

The Dark Lord raised his hand in spell
On the battlefield the Elf Lord fell
If men had let their duty go
The Dark would have taken Gondor long ago...

(from a lullaby of Gondor)

It was still dark when his aunt called them to get up. Bergil pushed Fargil out of bed, pulled the covers up, smoothed them with all the attention that a ten year old boy usually gives to such matters. Fargil went out to bring in wood and Bergil took buckets to the well to fetch water for the morning. The usual banter around the well was absent. People silently waited their turn to draw water, leaving with the barest of greetings.

The lantern was lit on the table, and his aunt had put out bread and butter and hard cheese. There was only water, cool from the well, for drinking. Gilwyn ate nothing, but nursed a cup of tea. The air was heavy as if a storm was coming, and the boys ate silently.

When breakfast was finished and the table cleared and scrubbed, Gilwyn put a hand on each boy's shoulder. 'You boys stay close, today. They may need you to run messages, and I want to know where to find you.' She found them tasks to do about the house and little garden.

Beregond surprised them with a brief visit before leaving on an errand to the Guard-Towers on the Causeway.

He threw back his head and laughed when Bergil recounted his meeting with the Halfling, but sobered quickly. 'I am glad to find you here,' he said, becoming unusually stern with the boys. 'I want you to listen well to Gilwyn,' he said. 'And stay close to home, unless you are called to run errands.' He turned to Gilwyn. 'I do not want them watching at the wall.' She nodded, and with a quick embrace of his son, he was gone.

The day continued gloomy, and the boys' usual high spirits were dampened, even with the diversion of running messages and watching the preparations in the City after they were released to go home and eat supper. Fargil wanted to stop to ask questions, but Bergil hurried him along. The sunset bells rang, though there had been no sun that day to set now, and they sat with little appetite to their evening meal. Suddenly a terrible feeling came over them, as if a darker shadow than that of evening had been cast over the City. There was shouting outside. The boys rose from their benches, but Gilwyn stopped them with a stern look.

It took all the soldierly discipline Bergil could muster, but he sat back down. Fargil slowly followed his example. They listened, and to their relief and joy they heard the name of Faramir being cried aloud. Gilwyn's strained face broke into a smile. 'Faramir has returned!' she cried. 'You may go as far as the main street and watch him on his way to the Citadel. But come right back.'

The boys promised and bolted for the door.

Bergil and his cousin pressed through the crowd. They reached the front just as Faramir and Gandalf passed by. Pippin was following, and he gave Bergil a friendly wave of acknowledgement as he passed. Fargil pulled at Bergil's sleeve. 'Come on,' he urged. 'We promised my mother that we would return at once.' The boys hurried back through the darkened streets. No stars shone in the sky. It was easy for them to imagine evil things lurking in the shadows. Fear lent wings to their feet, and it was not long before they were once again back at the house.

The next day was even darker, if possible. The word at the well was that Faramir had been sent from the City, to hold Osgiliath as long as it could be held against the advancing forces of the Dark Lord. Bergil brought the news back with the water buckets, and his aunt was silent for a long time. She kept them indoors again, using the time to fit them for new garments. Gilwyn also had them practice their letters, and then by the light of the lantern, they drew pictures on the hearth with blackened sticks from the fire, and played simple games that were more suited to snowy winter evenings. It passed the time. When Bergil went to the well to draw more water for the evening, there was still no news. They did not see Beregond that day.

Again there was no dawn. On his way back from the well, Bergil heard the watchman sound the call to arms, and along the way home he saw men of the City putting down their tools, taking up swords, and heading to the walls. He wished he could go, too, but his aunt put him to work as soon as he returned with the buckets. Dull rumbles were heard periodically, as the boys scrubbed the walls and floor to her satisfaction.

At one point they heard the clop of horses' feet being led down the main street from the stables, but Gilwyn would not let them go to see.

They heard shouting from the walls, and then the ring of a trumpet from the Citadel. The shouts became clearer; men were calling 'Amroth for Gondor! Amroth to Faramir!' The shouting grew louder and more confused, then suddenly died away.

Gilwyn put down her needle and the cloth she was sewing by the light of the lantern. She rose. 'You boys stay here,' she ordered. 'I will not be long.' She threw a shawl about her shoulders and stepped lightly out the door. After she had gone out, the boys went to the door and stared out into the darkness, but they did not follow.