The ride to Minas Tirith took longer than three days for Windfola was not as fast as Shadowfax. It did not matter much, though, for it gave Míriel, Gandalf and Pippin some time to rest during the nights, and they could ride throughout the days. The company was a little strange since it was only the three of them, and they had never really spent time together alone like this before. Pippin was not as cheery as he usually was since he missed Merry, and Míriel had started to miss her friends as well.
Everyday Míriel thought of Legolas and that they hadn't left on the best terms. Either way, it did comfort her slightly that he seemed to care enough about her to worry her.
The journey to Minas Tirith lead Míriel to get to know this new Gandalf better, who turned out to be much the same as he had been before. He assured her that the new clothes did not change who he truly was, and then they spoke of happy things like Lothlórien. Míriel envied that he had gotten to spend time there and she longed back to her home almost every day; well, it had been her home for a very short time if one counted the amount of years that the Maiar Ilmarë had been alive. When Pippin was fast asleep Gandalf would tell Míriel about the Maiar, and of Valinor, and comforted her in the fact that they would find a way to reclaim her lost memories.
Finally, the three companions found themselves at the very front step of Minas Tirith itself, and for Míriel and Pippin, it was the first time that they saw the mighty White city. It was the capital of Gondor and where the Steward Denethor, son of Ecthelion and father of Boromir, dwelled in his halls. He was not King of Gondor, but only a keeper since there were no more Kings of Arnor and Gondor. The three companions were going to face the man soon enough, yet for now, they enjoyed the view of Minas Tirith.
The city was surrounded by a large ring wall encircling the city called Rammas Echor, and the Pelennor Fields. It laid beneath Mount Mindolluin which rose above the city's citadel by a length of a thousand feet. There were seven one-hundred-foot high levels that the city was divided into, each surrounded by white walls. Once it had been a mighty city, but now it had less than half of the population of Gondor soldiers which could have dwelt at ease. It was falling into ruin because of the growing power of Sauron. Unfortunately, it was not the first city like this that Gandalf and Míriel had seen.
Gandalf and Míriel had to ride their horses into the city which was not as filled with people as one would have thought. There were men and women here and there, but they did not look particularly happy. The people were losing its lustres as was the city itself. They glanced curiously at the two riders as they rode, and perhaps some of them recognised Gandalf as Mithrandir and an old friend.
Míriel could see the difference between the people of Gondor and those of Rohan quite clearly. They were dressed differently and rarely anyone had the golden locks that the Rohirrim had. Once the Gondorians had the blood of the Dúnedain in them, as they had been descendants of Númenór, but now they had mixed much and most of it was spent. The people were good looking though, with ruddy complexions and usually darker hair.
Gandalf did not give Míriel or Pippin time to speak with the Gondorians for he suddenly set off at full speed up the levels of the city. Míriel followed suit and had to urge Igor to keep up with Shadowfax that never seemed to grow tired. Gandalf did not stop until they came to the last level, the citadel, where he dismounted Shadowfax and helped Pippin down. They started walking toward the black gates to the halls, past a dying white tree in the middle of the courtyard.
"It's the tree," Pippin said. "Gandalf."
"Yes, the White Tree of Gondor," answered Gandalf without stopping. "The tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not the King. He is a Steward only, a caretaker of the throne." Gandalf stopped right before the gates and turned to Míriel and Pippin. "Now listen carefully, Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise. Better not mention Frodo or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn either. In fact, it's better if you do not speak at all, especially you Peregrin Took."
After this lecture, the gates were opened and they could finally enter. Míriel wondered how this Lord Denethor would be like if Gandalf was so careful around him. They would find out soon enough as they walked through the throne hall. It was made entirely of white except for the black pillars that stretched high to the ceiling and held it all up. There was an equally as black throne in the front, placed on a platform that required a few steps to get up to. On the throne sat a man on the brink of old age with long silvery hair that covered his face for he was bent down as if he was crying. He was clad in expensive navy blue robes and in his hands, he held something that looked much like a horn.
"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Gandalf said loudly to gain Denethor's attention, but he did not look up at them. "I come with tidings in this dark hour and with council."
"Perhaps you've come to explain this?" Denethor said and showed them a broken horn in his hands. "Perhaps you've come to tell me why my son is dead?"
Míriel gulped and realised that this was Boromir's horn. After his death, Aragorn, Legolas, Míriel and Gimli had placed him in one of the boats and let the river take him. Apparently, his horn had been washed up which revealed that the young man had indeed died. It still saddened Míriel greatly to think of her friend and she could not deny that she felt sorry for Denethor. No one deserved to lose their child and especially someone so brave as Boromir had been.
"Boromir died to save us," said Pippin suddenly. Míriel glared at him and wondered if it was even possible that he had already forgotten what Gandalf had told him. Pippin was not to speak but he had already broken that promise for he could not stand and watch as Denethor suffered. No matter how hard Gandalf glared at him, Pippin ignored it and fell to his knees.
"My kinsmen and me. He fell defending us from many foes. I offer you my service such as it is, in payment of his debt."
What Pippin had done was something gallant, yet stupid for they did not know Denethor. Pippin may have just given his services to a tyrant, and he would be trapped until Denethor released him.
"This is my first command to you," Denethor said bitterly to Pippin. "How did you escape and my son did not? So mighty a man as he was."
"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow," Pippin said. "And Boromir was pierced by many." Gandalf glanced uncomfortably at Pippin and neared him since he did not make things much better, smacked him with the staff to make him stand up.
"Get up," he hissed and Pippin did as he said. "My lord, there will be a time to grief for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming, the enemy is at your doorstep. As Steward you're in charge of the defence of the city, where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends, you are not alone in this fight. Send word for Théoden of Rohan, light the beacons."
"You think you are wise, Mithrandir," Denethor said and there was a glimpse in his eyes that reminded Míriel so much of how Théoden had spoken when he refused to help Gondor. "Yet for all your subtleties you have not your wisdom. Do you think that the eyes of the tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand, you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with your right, you would seek to supplant me. I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Oh yes, words have reached my ear of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now: I will not bow to this ranger from the north! Last of a ragged house long breathless."
It did not come as a surprise to hear him speak like this, neither for Gandalf or for Míriel. Men who were given power rarely ever managed to keep it and therefore they did everything to stop themselves from being replaced. Denethor felt that it was his right to sit upon the throne since his father and grandfather and so on had done so before him. The power of Gondor had gotten to his head and he would not give it away easily.
"Authority was not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward," Gandalf said fiercely for he knew he spoke the truth. This angered Denethor greatly and he stood up from his throne.
"The rule of Gondor is mine!" he barked. "And no others!"
Míriel glanced at Pippin and they both saw now that they had reached a dead end. They would not be able to reason with him now that he was angered, and they would just have to try later. This was a man that they needed to control for he was not fit to rule. It was evident that the three were needed in Gondor for their defences were not great and Denethor turned his head to their weaknesses.
Gandalf turned away and started walking out, obviously angered with Denethor. There was no way to speak to him for he had no sense and therefore Gandalf needed to plan on what to do next. Míriel and Pippin quickly hurried after him but Míriel gave Denethor one last glare and then glanced down at Boromir's horn.
"Boromir would have followed him," she said loudly and stopped walking. "Your son knew who his leader was, who his King was. Perhaps you will too one day."
"And who are you to speak so of my son?" Denethor spat.
"I am Ilmarë, the handmaiden of Varda herself, the chief of all the Maiar and the sixth Istari on Middle-Earth," Míriel said. "You will soon regret turning our advice away, Steward."
Denethor did not answer and Míriel did not stay to hear him yell at her as well. Gandalf met her eyes as they walked toward the gate and he smiled faintly to confirm that what she had said was something good. This marked the first time that Míriel had embraced who her true identity were, and it felt strangely good.
"All has turned vain ambition," Gandalf muttered to his companions when they had exited the hall. "He'd even use his grief as a cloak! A thousand years this city has stood, now at the whim of a madman, it will fall. And the white tree - the tree of the King - will never bloom again."
"Why are they still guarding it?" asked Pippin, meaning the tree.
"They guard it because they have hope," said Gandalf sadly. "Faint and fading hope that one day it will flower, that the King will come and the city will be as it once was. Before it fell into decay... The old wisdom born out of the west was forsaken, Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living and counted the old men's of their descent dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in halls, musing on hedens or in high call towers asking questions of us to ask." They stopped at the very edge. "And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin, the line of Kings fell, the White tree with it. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."
Gandalf was a great speaker and what he said almost made Pippin and Míriel tear up. There was not a man that cared for Middle-Earth more than Mithrandir did, and no one had done as much for it as he had. Gandalf was much older than any of them, but still, he never gave up and he never fell into the darkness.
Pippin, Míriel and Gandalf glared out at the view in front of them and Míriel realised that it was Mordor. They were so close to it, the destination they had once set out to, but now as they stood there it looked quite terrifying. Frodo and Sam were going to enter there all on their own and it was a thought that scared Míriel greatly.
Mordor was a black, volcanic plain in the east. It had mountain ranges surrounding in on three sides which created a fortress against any enemies of the Dark Realm. It was hard to imagine how the people of Minas Tirith could live in its shadow, having their enemy so close to them. It was not strange that the city was slowly falling into ruin for no one could survive darkness for too long.
"Mordor," Pippin whispered.
"Yes," Gandalf said. "There it lies, this city has dwelled ever in the sight of its shadow."
"A storm is coming," Pippin said as they looked up at the sky. Indeed there were clouds that were almost completely black and moving slowly toward them. It was clouds like no other, and Pippin was right that a storm was coming, but it was not one that he expected it to be.
"This is not the weather of the world," said Gandalf. "This is a device of Sauron's making, a broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the shadow of Mordor reaches the city, it will begin."
"Well," Pippin said and Míriel could hear how scared he was only by listening to his voice. "Minas Tirith... Very impressive. So where are we off to next?"
Míriel smiled toward the very naive young Hobbit and sighed. If they were to leave this city, it would be well after the battle - either alive or dead. They had not managed to complete their task and if they returned they would ride with only Rohan on their side to battle. That was not enough.
"Oh it's too late for that, Peregrin," Gandalf said and shook his head. "There is no leaving this city. Help must come to us. Now, we must come up with a plan, one that unfortunately involves our parting away from each other."
Míriel feared that Gandalf wanted to leave them yet again since she was not certain that she could stay in Minas Tirith alone with Pippin. Fortunately, Gandalf seemed to think the same and revealed his plans for his two companions. Gandalf and Pippin were to stay in Minas Tirith and try to convince Denethor to lit the beakers, while Míriel would ride to the strategic position of Osgiliath and aid the forces. Gandalf suspected that the orcs of Mordor would try to reclaim Osgiliath in an ambush, and warnings had to be delivered to the men there.
Osgiliath was the ancient capital of Gondor but fell into ruin during the beginning of the Third Age. It had strategic importance both to Gondor and to Mordor for it was a crossing point over the Anduin, and therefore it was important for Gondor to keep it under their control. It had been in Mordor's grip only shortly before the journey from Rivendell began, but Boromir and his brother Faramir recaptured it. It was used as a military outpost, and Denethor had not put enough soldiers there to defend it.
"Will you do this, Míriel?" Gandalf asked her. "It is your turn to embrace your new name; Ilmarë is who you truly are. As the chief of the Maiar, I expect that you will do brilliantly as long as you have trust in yourself. I certainly do."
"Of course I will," said Míriel and nodded quickly, with a smile.
After saying goodbye to them both and promising that she would return, she set off without looking back, for she had a new mission at hand.