Chapter 1: Minas Tirith

Gandalf and Pippin rode quickly on Shadowfax, the great white horse. The night was dark, and the wind was cold. The land of Rohan passed behind them like a shadow. They did not stop to sleep or eat much.

Pippin was tired and scared. He still remembered the red Eye of Sauron. He often looked at Gandalf, but the wizard said very little.

“Where are we going, Gandalf?” Pippin asked after some hours.

“We are going to Minas Tirith,” said Gandalf. “The city of the Kings. War is coming. Gondor must be ready.”

They rode for many hours until the sky turned red in the east. When the sun came up, they saw the White Mountains far away. The road turned east, and soon they began to climb up into the hills.

Gandalf stopped once to rest Shadowfax.

“You saw Sauron in the palantír,” Gandalf said. “Now he is afraid. He believes the Ring is going to Gondor. That may help us for a short time.”

Pippin looked down.

“I am sorry,” he said.

Gandalf smiled a little.

“You are not to blame, my dear hobbit. But now you must stay away from the palantír.”

That evening, they saw the great city of Minas Tirith. It stood tall and white on the side of a mountain. Seven levels of stone rose up to the sky, with a white tower at the top.

“It’s beautiful,” Pippin said.

“It is strong,” Gandalf said. “But even strong cities can fall.”

They rode up the long road to the city gate. Many guards stood there, wearing black and silver.

“Halt!” one of the guards said. “Who comes to the gates of Minas Tirith?”

“I am Gandalf the Grey,” said Gandalf, “and this is Peregrin Took, a hobbit of the Shire. We come from Rohan. Take us to Denethor, Steward of Gondor.”

The guards opened the gate, and they passed through the high stone walls. Pippin stared at everything with wide eyes. The buildings were white and shining, and people in the streets looked serious and worried.

They climbed higher and higher through the city until they reached the citadel, where Denethor lived.

Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, was an old man with dark eyes and a proud face. He sat in a great hall, dressed in black.

“You bring a halfling?” Denethor said. “Why?”

“He has seen things that are important,” said Gandalf. “He also brings honor to Gondor. His kin fought bravely with Boromir.”

Pippin stepped forward and bowed.

“I offer my service,” he said. “To honor the memory of Boromir, son of Denethor.”

Denethor looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded.

“Very well. You shall serve me in my house.”

Gandalf frowned, but said nothing.

After the meeting, Gandalf and Pippin walked outside.

“Be careful, Pippin,” Gandalf said. “Denethor is wise, but he is also proud and dangerous.”

Pippin was quiet. He looked at the sky. A dark shadow was growing in the East.

“The war is near,” he said.

“Yes,” said Gandalf. “It has already begun.”