The Houses of Healing

           AmistwasinMerry’seyesoftearsandwearinesswhentheydrewneartheruinedGateofMinasTirith.Hegavelittleheedtothewreckandslaughterthatlayaboutall.Fireandsmokeandstenchwasintheair;formanyengineshadbeenburnedorcastintothefire-pits,andmanyoftheslainalso,whilehereandtherelaymanycarcasesofthegreatSouthronmonsters,half-burned,orbrokenbystone-cast,orshotthroughtheeyesbythevaliantarchersofMorthond.Theflyingrainhadceasedforatime,andthesungleamedupabove;butallthelowercitywasstillwrappedinasmoulderingreek.

           Alreadymenwerelabouringtoclearawaythroughthejetsamofbattle;andnowoutfromtheGatecamesomebearinglitters.GentlytheylaidÉowynuponsoftpillows;buttheking’sbodytheycoveredwithagreatclothofgold,andtheyboretorchesabouthim,andtheirflames,paleinthesunlight,wereflutteredbythewind.

           SoThéodenandÉowyncametotheCityofGondor,andallwhosawthembaredtheirheadsandbowed;andtheypassedthroughtheashandfumeoftheburnedcircle,andwentonandupalongthestreetsofstone.ToMerrytheascentseemedagelong,ameaninglessjourneyinahatefuldream,goingonandontosomedimendingthatmemorycannotseize.

           Slowlythelightsofthetorchesinfrontofhimflickeredandwentout,andhewaswalkinginadarkness;andhethought:‘Thisisatunnelleadingtoatomb;thereweshallstayforever.’Butsuddenlyintohisdreamtherefellalivingvoice.