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only the old Púkel…men were left； still sitting at the turnings of the road。
Merry stared at the lines of marching stones： they were worn and black； some were leaning；
some were fallen； some cracked or broken； they looked like rows of old and hungry teeth。 He
wondered what they could be； and he hoped that the king was not going to follow them into the
darkness beyond。 Then he saw that there were clusters of tents and booths on either side of the
stony way； but these were not set near the trees； and seemed rather to huddle away from them
towards the brink of the cliff。 The greater number were on the right； where the Firienfeld was wider；
and on the left there was a smaller camp； in the midst of which stood a tall pavilion。 From this side
a rider now came out to meet them； and they turned from the road。
As they drew near Merry saw that the rider was a woman with long braided hair gleaming in the
twilight； yet she wore a helm and was clad to the waist like a warrior and girded with a sword。
'Hail； Lord of the Mark！' she cried。 'My heart is glad at your returning。'
'And you； éowyn；' said Théoden； 'is all well with you？'
'All is well；' she answered； yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied her； and he would have
thought that she had been weeping； if that could be believed of one so stern of face。 'All is well。 It
was a weary road for the people to take； torn suddenly from their homes。 There were hard words；
for it is long since war has driven us from the green fields； but there have been no evil deeds。 All is
now ordered； as you see。 And your lodging is prepared for you； for I have had full tidings of you
and knew the hour of your ing。'
'So Aragorn has e then；' said éomer。 'Is he still here？'
'No； he is gone；' said éowyn turning away and looking at the mountains dark against the East
and South。
'Whither did he go？' asked éomer。
'I do not know；' she answered。 'He came at night； and rode away yestermorn； ere the Sun had
climbed over the mountain…tops。 He is gone。'
'You are grieved； daughter；' said Théoden。 'What has happened？ Tell me； did he speak of that
road？' He pointed away along the darkening lines of stones towards the Dwimorberg。 'Of the Paths
of the Dead？'
'Yes； lord；' said éowyn。 'And he has passed into the shadows from which none have returned。 I
could not dissuade him。 He is gone。'
'Then our paths are sundered；' said éomer。 'He is lost。 We must ride without him； and our hope
dwindles。'
Slowly they passed through the short heath and upland grass； speaking no more； until they came
to the king's pavilion。 There Merry found that everything was made ready； and that he himself was
not forgotten。 A little tent had been pitched for him beside the king's lodging； and there he sat alone；
while men passed to and fro； going in to the king and taking counsel with him。 Night came on； and
the half…seen heads of the mountains westward were crowned with stars； but the East was dark and
blank。 The marching stones faded slowly from sight； but still beyond them； blacker than the gloom；
brooded the vast crouching shadow of the Dwimorberg。
'The Paths of the Dead；' he muttered to himself。 'The Paths of the Dead？ What does all this mean？
They have all left me now。 They have all gone to some doom： Gandalf and Pippin to war in the
East； and Sam and Frodo to Mordor； and Strider and Legolas and Gimli to the Paths of the Dead。
But my turn will e soon enough； I suppose。 I wonder what they are all talking about； and what
the king means to do。 For I must go where he goes now。'
In the midst of these gloomy thoughts he suddenly remembered that he was very hungry； and he
got up to go and see if anyone else in this strange camp felt the same。 But at that very moment a
trumpet sounded； and a man came summoning him； the king's esquire； to wait at the king's board。
In the inner part of the pavilion was a small space； curtained off with broidered hangings； and
strewn with skins： and there at a small table sat Théoden with éomer and éowyn； and Dúnhere；
lord of Harrowdale。 Merry stood beside the king's stool and waited on him till presently the old
man； ing out of deep thought； turned to him and smiled。
'e； Master Meriadoc！' he said。 'You shall not stand。 You shall sit beside me； as long as I
remain in my own lands； and lighten my heart with tales。'
Room was made for the hobbit at the king's left hand； but no one called for any tale。 There was
indeed little speech； and they ate and drank for the most part in silence； until at last； plucking up
courage； Merry asked the question that was tormenting him。
'Twice now； lord； I have heard of the Paths of the Dead；' he said。 'What are they？ And where has
Strider； I mean the Lord Aragorn where has he gone？'
The king sighed； but no one answered； until at last éomer spoke。 'We do not know； and our
hearts are heavy；' he said。 'But as for the Paths of the Dead； you have yourself walked on their first
steps。 Nay。 I speak no words of ill omen！ The road that we have climbed is the approach to the
Door； yonder in the Dimholt。 But what lies beyond no man knows。'
'No man knows；' said Théoden： 'yet ancient legend； now seldom spoken； has somewhat to report。
If these old tales speak true that have e down from father to son in the House of Eorl； then the
Door under Dwimorberg leads to a secret way that goes beneath the mountain to some forgotten
end。 But none have ever ventured in to search its secrets； since Baldor； son of Brego； passed the
Door and was never seen among men again。 A rash vow he spoke； as he drained the horn at that
feast which Brego made to hallow new…built Meduseld； and he came never to the high seat of
which he was the heir。
'Folk say that Dead Men out of the Dark Years guard the way and will suffer no living man to
e to their hidden halls； but at whiles they may themselves be seen passing out of the door like
shadows and down the stony road。 Then the people of Harrowdale shut fast their doors and shroud
their windows and are afraid。 But the Dead e seldom forth and only at times of great unquiet
and ing death。'
'Yet it is said in Harrowdale；' said éowyn in a low voice。 'that in the moonless nights but little
while ago a great host in strange array passed by。 Whence they came none knew； but they went up
the stony road and vanished into the hill； as if they went to keep a tryst。'
'Then why has Aragorn gone that way？' asked Merry。 'Don't you know anything that would
explain it？'
'Unless he has spoken words to you as his friend that we have not heard；' said éomer； 'none now
in the land of the living can tell his purpose。'
'Greatly changed he seemed to me since I saw him first in the king's house；' said éowyn：
'grimmer； older。 Fey I thought him； and like one whom the Dead call。'
'Maybe he was called；' said Théoden； 'and my heart tells me that I shall not see him again。 Yet
he is a kingly man of high destiny。 And take fort in this； daughter； since fort you seem to
need in your grief for this guest。 It is said that when the Eorlingas came out of the North and passed
at length up the Snowbourn； seeking strong places of refuge in time of need； Brego and his son
Baldor climbed the Stair of the Hold and so came before the Door。 On the threshold sat an old man；
aged beyond guess of years； tall and kingly he had been； but now he was withered as an old stone。
Indeed for stone they took him； for he moved not； and he said no word； until they sought to pass
him by and enter。 And then a voice came out of him； as it were out of the ground； and to their
amaze it spoke in the western tongue： _The way is shut_。
'Then they halted and looked at him and saw that he lived still； but he did not look at them。 _The
way is shut_； his voice said again _It was made by those who are Dead； and the Dead keep it； until
the time es。 The way is shut。_
'_And when will that time be？_said Baldor。 But no answer did he ever get。 For the old man died
in that hour and fell upon his face； and no other tidings of the ancient dwellers in the mountains
have our folk ever learned。 Yet maybe at last the time foretold has e； and Aragorn may pass。'
'But how shall a man discover whether that time be e or no； save by daring the Door？' said
éomer。 'And that way I would not go though all the hosts of Mordor stood before me； and I were
alone and had no other refuge。 Alas that a fey mood should fall on a man so greathearted in this
hour of need！ Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the earth？ War is
at hand。'
He paused； for at that moment there was a noise outside； a man's voice crying the name of
Théoden； and the challenge of the guard。
Presently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain。 'A man is here； lord；' he said； 'an
errand…rider of Gondor。 He wishes to e before you at once。'
'Let him e！' said Théoden。
A tall man entered； and Merry choked back a cry； for a moment it seemed to him that Boromir
was alive again and had returned。 Then he saw that it was not so； the man w