بخش 04

Make way!

It’s the tree.

Gandalf. Gandalf.

Yes, the White Tree of Gondor.

The tree of the king.

Lord Denethor, however, is not king.

He is a steward only, a caretaker of the throne.

Now listen carefully. Lord Denethor is Boromir’s father.

To give him news of his beloved son’s death would be most unwise.

And do not mention Frodo or the Ring.

And say nothing of Aragorn either.

In fact, it’s better if you don’t speak at all, Peregrin Took.

Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, lord and steward of Gondor.

I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with counsel.

Perhaps you come to explain this.

Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead.

Boromir died to save us…

my kinsman and me.

He fell defending us from many foes. Pippin.

I offer you my service, such as it is…

in payment of this debt.

This is my first command to you.

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…

and Boromir was pierced by many.

Get up.

My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir…

but it is not now.

War is coming.

The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged…

with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor’s armies?

You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight.

Send word to Theoden of Rohan. Light the beacons.

You think you are wise, Mithrandir.

Yet for all your subtleties, you have not wisdom.

Do you think the eyes of the White 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’d seek to supplant me.

I know who rides with Theoden of Rohan.

Oh, yes. Word has reached my ears 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 bereft of lordship.

Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the king, steward.

The rule of Gondor is mine and no other’s.

Come.

All has turned to vain ambition.

He would 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? They guard it because they have hope.

A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower.

That a king will come and this city will be as it once was…

before it fell into decay.

The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken.

Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living…

and counted the old names of their descent…

dearer than the names of their sons.

Childless lords sat in aged halls, musing on heraldry…

or in high, cold towers, asking questions of the stars.

And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin.

The line of kings failed.

The White Tree withered.

The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men.

Mordor.

Yes, there it lies.

This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow.

A storm is coming.

This is not the weather of the world.

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 this city…

it will begin.

Well…

Minas Tirith…

very impressive.

So where are we off to next? Oh, it’s too late for that, Peregrin.

There’s no leaving this city.

Help must come to us.

It must be getting near teatime.

Leastways, it would be in decent places where there is still teatime.

We’re not in decent places.

Mr. Frodo?

What is it?

It’s just a feeling.

I don’t think I’ll be coming back.

Yes, you will. Of course you will.

That’s just morbid thinking.

We’re going there and back again…

just like Mr. Bilbo.

You’ll see.

I think these lands were once part of the kingdom of Gondor.

Long ago, when there was a king.

Mr. Frodo, look.

The king has got a crown again.

Come on, Hobbits! Mustn’t stop now. This way.

So I imagine this is just a ceremonial position.

I mean, they don’t actually expect me to do any fighting.

Do they? You’re in the service of the steward now.

You’ll have to do as you’re told, Peregrin Took.

Ridiculous Hobbit.

Guard of the Citadel.

There’s no more stars.

Is it time?

Yes.

It’s so quiet.

It’s the deep breath before the plunge.

I don’t want to be in a battle…

but waiting on the edge of one I can’t escape is even worse.

Is there any hope, Gandalf, for Frodo and Sam?

There never was much hope.

Just a fool’s hope.

Our enemy is ready.

His full strength’s gathered.

Not only Orcs, but Men as well.

Legions of Haradrim from the south…

mercenaries from the coast.

All will answer Mordor’s call.

This will be the end of Gondor as we know it.

Here the hammer stroke will fall hardest.

If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls…

the last defense of this city will be gone.

But we have the White Wizard. That’s got to count for something.

Gandalf?

Sauron has yet to reveal his deadliest servant…

the one who will lead Mordor’s armies in war.

The one they say no living man can kill.

The Witch King of Angmar.

You’ve met him before.

He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop.

He is the lord of the Nazgul…

the greatest of the Nine.

Minas Morgul is his lair.

The Dead City.

Very nasty place. Full of enemies.

Quick. Quick.

They will see. They will see.

Come away. Come away. Look, we have found it.

The way into Mordor.

The secret stair.

Climb.

No, Mr. Frodo! Not that way!

What’s it doing? No.

They’re calling me. No.

Hide!

I can feel his blade.