The clash with the Orcs at the outwall was fierce but brief; their numbers were few, and as they had not been expecting an attack, they were swiftly dealt with by the leading company of Riders.  Boromir had barely even had opportunity to swing his sword to take down the Orc in front of him before the fight was over.

Boromir noticed that Grithnir and his other men had kept as close by his side as they could during the skirmish.  He knew they were there to protect him as well as to fight; no doubt they were still somewhat doubtful of his ability to hold his own in a battle with his wounds still healing and his strength not at the full.  He had been doubtful himself until the first swing of the sword, and then his arm remembered what to do.  Yes, he had felt stiffness, and some pain in his shoulder, but it did not impair him, and the sword that had been Dirhavel's was sufficiently light that it made the work easy enough.

He saw the question forming on Grithnir's lips and cut it off before he could speak.  "You wish to know how I am faring after putting my sword arm to the test in an actual battle?  Do not fear, Grithnir, I am well, I have come through unscathed!  Arthad did masterful work binding my healing wounds prior to the fight so that none of them have reopened.  I will admit to some stiffness and pain, but that is to be expected and will have to be borne."

Boromir looked at each one of his men in turn and smiled.

"I thank you for your care for me, I know you were acting as shields to protect me from the main brunt of the attack, small though it was.  Your protection spared me from using up too much of my strength on a small battle, so I will better be able to face the larger one to come -- but you cannot protect me forever!  I must be able to fight my own battles sooner or later."

"That we know, my lord," Grithnir acknowledged.  "Please be assured that we do not intend to prevent you from fighting, that would be a hopeless endeavor!  But you are our leader and we are your men, who are sworn to act as a shield to you while we are with you.  If we can make your battle a bit lighter by our presence and our effort, it is our duty and our honor!"

Arthad nodded in stern agreement.  "I am pleased to hear my bandaging was sufficient to the task, my lord!  I trust it will remain so in the coming hours!"

He dug in his tunic and removed a wrapped packet.  "My lord Boromir, please take this and eat it now while we have a short time of peace before the next battle.  It is the last of the waybread Linhir had in his keeping -- lembas, I believe you called it.  Linhir passed it on to me before he died, urging me to save it for you for such a time as this.  May it give you the additional strength you need for this next battle!"

Boromir accepted the packet gratefully.  "I thought I had finished the lembas long ago!  This is a timely gift, which I happily accept, knowing it will strengthen me in my time of need!  I eat it in honor of Linhir and Dirhavel, who were taken from us too soon."  He ate the wafer of lembas as his men watched and washed it down with a swallow of water from a skin handed to him by Grithnir.

"Now that we have honored one of Linhir's final wishes, let us go forth and avenge his death and that of Dirhavel.  His sword which is now mine has tasted Orc blood at last, but it is not enough!"

***

The Riders spread out, making their way through the broken Rammas wall and onto the plain of Gondor.  The first éored remained with the King to guard him, though there seemed to be no enemy nearby; Grimbold led his group of riders off to the east through a great gap in the wall, while Éomer and his éored made their way off to the west.  They advanced slowly yet surely, unchallenged and unseen in the darkness that lay heavily over the land.  Before them stretched the dark fields of the Pelennor, lit only with lines of flame that were trenches of siege fire cutting across the plain. Off in the distance a great burning could be seen; whether it was flames burning in the lower levels or great siege fires before the City Gate, it was impossible to tell at this distance.

Turning east, the Riders advanced still further until they were between the siege fires and the outer fields.  There was still no challenge from any enemy, as the fires were unmanned, set there only to impede attack from the direction of the Great Road.  They were now near enough to the City to smell the burning, which made the horses restive and uneasy.  A heavy feeling of fear seemed to stretch forth from the direction of the City, as if a shadow of death threatened to engulf them.  It was a familiar feeling to Boromir; he had sensed such fear when facing the Dark Rider of Mordor at the bridge of Osgiliath.  It was after that defense on the bridge against Mordor's attempt to take it that he and Faramir had both dreamed the riddling dream, and he had taken on the quest to seek the Sword that was Broken.

We are too late!  Boromir thought, doubt rising in his heart.  The Dark Rider is there, I can feel his presence even from afar!  The King feels it, as well.  Will he turn back?  Please, my lord!  Do not turn back...

Boromir made to speak to the King, to break the spell that fear had laid on them all, but at that very moment, he sensed a change around him.  A movement of air touched his face, movement that became a slight breeze, and then a light, steady wind blowing in their faces.  Light glimmered on the horizon and they could see more clearly in the gray light of beginning dawn.  A murmur of joy spread through the gathered Riders and the horses stood more at ease, their noses lifted to catch the freshening breeze.  Those who had sensed the turning of the wind and predicted a change had been right -- the wind from the Sea had come.

Yet their joy was suddenly interrupted.  A flash of bright light rent what was left of the night, sharply illuminating the City and all its towers, and a rolling booming sound came to them over the plain.

As if the lightning flash was a signal to action, Théoden rose up on his horse and called out to the Riders surrounding him:

        Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
        Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
        spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
        a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
        Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!1

Grabbing a horn from his standard bearer he blew a great blast upon it, and all the other horns are loosed in triumphant music, growing in intensity as the sound echoed over the plain.  With Théoden King leading the way, and Boromir of Gondor by his side, the Riders of Rohan charged forward to the defense of Minas Tirith, singing as they rode.

***

Pippin watched in terror as the Black Rider moved forward to pass under the great archway of the Gate and enter the City.  But Gandalf blocked his way and would not allow him passage.

"You cannot enter here," said Gandalf.  "Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!"

The Black Rider flung back his hood, and Pippin gasped in horror.  The Rider wore a crown upon his head, yet there was no visible head to be seen; only red fire shone between the crown and his dark mantle.

"Old fool!" the Black Rider sneered.  His laughter made Pippin's flesh crawl.  "Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!" He lifted his sword high, and flames ran down the blade.2

Gandalf still did not move, nor did he flinch at the sight of the sword. Tension crackled between the two enemies as Pippin cowered in his hiding place, fearful of what would happen.  Yet the very next moment, the tension was broken by the shrill sound of a cock crowing in a nearby courtyard, greeting the dawn of a new day.  Above the flames and the darkness of Mordor, morning was breaking and the cock welcomed the dawn as he did every day, oblivious to fire and battle.

As if in answer to that sound, there came another from out of the north -- the music of horns blowing, echoing against the walls of Mindolluin.  The great horns of the North were blowing!  Rohan had come at last!

The Black Rider turned abruptly away and vanished from the Gate.  The moment he disappeared, Pippin felt a great weight fall away from him, as if he had been bound by strong chains and was suddenly freed.  He could move again, and stand to his feet.  Even Gandalf seemed to feel that same release; he still sat straight and tall on the back of Shadowfax in defiance of the enemy beyond the Gate, yet he bowed his head and sighed deeply.

The horns of the coming Riders continued to sound, echoing against the walls of the City, filling Pippin's heart with joy.  He felt limp with relief and happiness, but when he heard Gandalf click his tongue to Shadowfax to guide the horse forward out of the Gate and onto the field of battle, he remembered his errand and dashed forward to stop the wizard.

"Gandalf!" he called out urgently.  "Gandalf, wait!"

Gandalf turned back, a look of great surprise on his face.  "What is this?  Why are you here, Peregrin Took?  It is not allowed for those who wear the black and silver of the Tower Guard to depart the Citadel without leave of the lord Denethor.  What has happened that you have left your post?"

"I have leave, Gandalf!" Pippin gasped, stumbling over his words as he hurried to try to explain the urgency of his errand.  "The lord Denethor gave me his leave!  He sent me to find you, will you come?"

Gandalf frowned, startled and concerned.  "Denethor sent you to find me?  That is not something I expected to hear!  Tell me quickly, what has happened?"

"He's changed, Gandalf!" Pippin stammered, grasping at the corner of the wizard's robe in his agitation.  "When he saw how hurt and ill Faramir was, he went away and when he came back, he was changed.  He looked so old and frail all of a sudden, like something had broken inside him.  So full of despair, as if he doesn't want to live anymore!  He... he spoke of burning, of taking Faramir away and burning with him to protect him from the enemy that is surely coming... that they would burn together and go to meet Boromir..."

"He cannot be considering such a course of action!" Gandalf exclaimed, horrified.

"He is!" Pippin cried.  "Or, at least, he was... He has lost all hope, Gandalf.  He has given up and I'm afraid of what he might do if we can't stop him or help him!"

"Burning!" Gandalf shook his head sadly.  "Denethor's despair is great, indeed, if he has allowed himself to even consider such a thing!"  He looked at Pippin sharply.  "You said he 'is' considering this, then amended your words to 'was' -- so something has changed his mind?  And he has sent for me, you say?"

"Yes!  Well... he allowed that we call for you, anyway.  Dûrlin spoke sternly to him and got him to listen.  I was so afraid, but Dûrlin knew what to say.  He wouldn't let the lord Denethor do anything to Faramir unless it was to let him be taken to the Houses of Healing, nothing more.  He made Denethor realize he was not thinking right, that he needs to have hope instead of despairing and not fail in his duty to his people.  Dûrlin believes he can be made to hope again and he believes Boromir is not lost.  Dûrlin believes this so much, he is certain Boromir is coming even now!  He convinced me and he may have convinced the lord Denethor... at least a bit, maybe.  Dûrlin thought... he says that if you can look with your sight and see Boromir alive, it will sway Denethor and change his mind.  Even a little bit of hope could save him, Gandalf!  Denethor said he was willing to submit to our hope and let you try it, even though he wasn't sure if you would want to help after he opposed you for so long.  But we told him you surely would want to help him, because you honor him and love Boromir..."

Pippin looked up beseechingly.  "You can do this, can't you, Gandalf?  You can see with a special sight that sees things others can't see, right?  Will you look for us to help Denethor have hope again?"

Gandalf was silent for a long moment, as if considering, and then he nodded.

"Yes, Pippin, of course I will do this!  I have such power, and I also see that this is the best way I can use it.  I had thought my role to play in this battle was to balance the power of the Black Rider, who is the Witch King of old and Lord of the Nazgûl -- perhaps even to destroy him who cannot be harmed by man, according to prophecy.  Lives will be lost, no doubt, because he is abroad and I cannot follow him -- yet this task you lay before me is also vital for the winning of a battle!  If my power of sight is what is needed to preserve the lord Denethor as a leader and restore his strength by defeating his despair through looking for Boromir, then I will be doing more than just saving a single man or two; I will be taking part in restoring the fortunes of Gondor, which is vital to our victory against Mordor.  Of course I will look for you, and for him!"

Gandalf urged Shadowfax forward to stand where the Black Rider had stood moments before, and shading his eyes, he gazed out across the battlefield, northwards and then westward.  Long he looked, while Pippin held his breath.  Long he looked, while soldiers of Gondor gathered all around them to defend and barricade the ruined Gate.  At last Gandalf turned away and Pippin ran forward to meet him.  One look at Gandalf's face made Pippin whoop with joy, for he saw the wizard was smiling and his eyes were twinkling with his own suppressed joy.

"Tell me the truth, Pippin!" Gandalf said sternly, yet with a smile on his face.  "Did you truly believe I would see Boromir alive when I looked out just now with my sight?  Or did you doubt?"

"I did!  I really did believe you would, because Dûrlin convinced me he is still alive and coming.  Well, maybe I doubted for a minute just then when it took you so long to find him, but... no, no!  I believed!  You saw him, yes?  He is coming?"

Gandalf laughed, and the dim light of dawn seemed to brighten perceptibly.  "Yes, I saw him.  He rides with King Théoden and Rohan, surrounded by other men of Gondor.  He is alive and well, and coming to us.  I cannot say how long he will remain well, however, since he is riding into battle with the host of Mordor facing him, and the Black Rider is loose on the field..."

Pippin was undismayed.  "I'm not worried!  Boromir has cheated death so many times, he'll come out of this battle alive, too, I'm sure of it!  Besides, he's fighting a battle defending his own city, and you know that will give him extra courage!  It will probably make him invincible or indestructible or something!"

"You speak with much wisdom, Peregrin Took.  You know Boromir well!  No doubt it will be as you say."  Gandalf offered Pippin a hand and pulled him up to sit before him on Shadowfax.  "Come, the full tale of what I have seen must be told to the Lord Denethor, and swiftly.  There is no time to waste!"

*****

Notes:

1.  Théoden's words are quoted from Chapter 5 "Ride of the Rohirrim" in Return of the King.

2.  The words of the Black Rider and Gandalf are from Chapter 4 "The Siege of Gondor" in Return of the King.