They went down into the Rath Dinen. Except for funerals, memorial ceremonies, and the routine entrances and exits of caretakers, the gates of the street were always kept locked. Visitors to the tombs were only allowed to pass at the express permission of the Lord of the City.
When both lords of the city, with their respective ladies, the wizard, two hobbits, and Captain Beregond--who had been told enough of the story to bring along the small wooden box in which he had stored the items found with the Elf's body--approached the gates, the porter admitted them without a word and bowed low as the party went past. They crossed the bridge to the Silent Street, which wound back and forth up the northern face of the mountain behind the hill Minas Tirith was built upon. On either side of the street were magnificent mausoleums of marble, most of them black and white, but here and there were columned porticos, domes, and delicate spires of misty gray or even rosy pink. The door of each crypt bore a family crest traced in gold, and new, outlying wings on the oldest crypts crowded against each other. The royal crypt was at the top end of the street, larger and more grand than all the others.
Frodo and Merry had only been here once before, on the day the Elf's body had been interred, and they gaped in wonder. Family crypts were nothing new to them--most hobbit families had a barrow tunneled into a hillside where their dead were laid to rest, and the Brandybuck crypt had a fancier brass-plated door than any--but this elaborate marble city that no living soul would ever dwell in was strange and wonderful, and a little frightening. Frodo recalled words of Gandalf's that Pippin had once repeated to him, about the nobles of Minas Tirith: "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..." He saw now what the wizard meant by these words; these tombs were more beautiful and well kept than many a house within the city.
"May I see them first?" Frodo requested, piping voice breaking into the austere silence of the place, sounding loud and disruptive to his own ears. "Will you show me, please?" he added in a softer and, he hoped, more respectful tone.
He didn't say whom he wanted to see, but Faramir nodded in under-standing and led the party up the street to the oldest crypts. They stopped before one of gray marble with a golden device upon the door like a spear-head or stylized thorn. Frodo had seen this device before, on the cover of the book containing the poem about Aigande's death.
"It is the Snowthorn, the family crest," Faramir answered Frodo's whispered query. "Lord Aiglemerth lies within, and his family to the last." The young steward opened the door, which was not locked, and they went inside.
The mausoleum was cool within, well tended and free of dust, as all the crypts were, and lit by narrow horizontal slits of windows beneath the dome. Aigande's tomb was directly beneath the center of the dome, raised up on a platform so that it stood more than five feet high. Writ upon the side facing the door in gold lettering were the dead Man's name, the date, place, and circumstances of his death, and an inscription that Gandalf translated: "Beloved of his King, who mourns the loss most grievously."
At Frodo's request, Aragorn lifted him up onto his shoulder so the hobbit could have a better look at the effigy atop the tomb: It looked like a sleeping Man, eyes shut, hands folded on his armor-plated breast with the fingers curled around the hilt of a sword that pointed downward over the length of the reposing body to the feet. As Frodo gazed at the placid, handsome profile carved in stone, he wondered if it bore a resemblance to the Man who lay entombed here. He would like to put a face to that sobbing figure he and Merry had seen at the foot of the bed last night.
Aigande had died in battle nearly thirty years after the murder of Elspar. According to the poem, he'd said that he was glad he'd remained with Ciryaher after all. Had he been thinking of the Elves and his desire to go with them at the moment of his own death? Or was it what Ciryaher had hoped his friend would say?
The tomb of Aiglemerth was next behind his son's, even though he had died twenty years later. The face of this effigy wore a grim expression, with lines cut deep on the brow and bracketing the small, straight mouth, and the long chin was emphasized by a pointed beard. Was this the face of a Man who had deliberately arranged a murder, or who had accidentally brought about the death of the Elves and lived thereafter with the knowledge of his crime on his conscience? The hands clasped, not a sword, but a book that lay open upon his chest. On the stone pages were carved: "He gave all for the sake of his Kings' glory."
Beyond Aiglemerth's tomb lay two long rows of similar tombs, each bearing effigies of lords and ladies of this once distinguished family, receding into the darkness of the wings on either side of the central dome.
"Well?" said Merry expectantly after Frodo had looked over the tombs, as if he were hoping for some marvelous discovery. But Frodo had none; Aragorn may have brought them to Rath Dinen with a definite purpose in mind, but he had only wanted to see these Men whom he'd read so much about.
"There is nothing here," said Gandalf, "except old bones."
Arwen added solemnly. "Whatever else remains of them is not here, but has gone long ago."
When they left this tomb, they went up to the royal mausoleum at the end of the street, black and white, with doors of solid gold and gold leaf upon the high dome. Bright gems were set as the seven stars around the white tree on the crest of Gondor. The tombs of the earliest kings were unassuming, almost severe in their plainness, but became larger and more impressive in later years, as the glory of Gondor grew. The tomb of Hyarmendacil was a breathtaking structure of gold, red marble, and colorful gemstones, dominating the end of a wing. Effusive praise of this mighty king's accomplishments were inscribed on all four sides of the tomb and the tall platform that supported it.
But the party did not examine this remarkable memorial for long, instead turning their attention to an unadorned box with no effigy nor inscriptions that had recently been placed in the central hall, beneath a westward-facing window.
Aragorn placed his hand upon the flat marble lid of this newest tomb and spoke the words, "Hear me, Elspar Olorodin!" as if he were addressing the spirit of the Elf whose bones lay within.
His voice rang out, echoing against the smooth stone walls in an undeniable tone of authority. Frodo felt sure that the spirit must indeed be listening, and he reached out to take Merry's hand. Eowyn moved closer to Faramir, and Arwen silently took her place at her husband's side.
"Your body is laid to rest in a place of honor, no longer lost, hidden and nameless," the King spoke. "Your murderers have been declared. Let them face whatever justice they have awaiting them in the next realm, for they are beyond the reach of all justice here. All has been done that can be done. Rest, Elspar. Walk no more. May you at find your peace at last in the Halls of Mandos."
At a gesture from his King, Beregond stepped forward and offered the wooden box he had brought with him, containing all the items found with the Elf's bones. From this box, Aragorn took out the brooch with the green gemstone and placed it on top of the tomb.
"A plaque will be affixed here, with this stone," he declared. "Elspar's name shall be writ upon it, and the tale of his murder and finding, so that all will know why he lies here."
As they left the Silent Street, Merry leaned close to Frodo's ear to murmur, "Is that the end? Will it be enough?"
"I hope so," Frodo murmured in reply. He could only wait now and see if the ghost made another appearance.
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