![]() ![]() Gandalf bids the Lord Aragorn to enter discretely and minister to Faramir, who lay at death's door. I deem the time unripe and I have no mind for strife except with our Enemy and his servants." "Your words, lord, are wise," observes one of the chief princes. And so the rightful king could ever be known." Gandalf, standing nearby with the sick in his charge, remarks, "Men may long remember your words, Ioreth! For there is hope in them." Upon hearing those words the rightful king, the Lord Aragorn, says, "If I enter unbidden, then doubt and debate may arise, which should not be while this war is fought. Wise woman of the city in the Houses of Healing declares, "It is said in old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. No other blade, not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter, cleaving the undead flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will." chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. ![]() Slowly, slowly he began to crawl aside but the Black Captain, in doubt and malice intent upon the woman before him, heeded him no more than a worm in the mud." That proved a fatal choice, for of the sword Merry used is later written, "Glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought it slowly long ago in the North-kingdom when. The face of their enemy was not turned towards him, but still he hardly dared to move, dreading lest the deadly eyes should fall on him. She should not die, so fair, so desperate! At least she should Pity filled his heart and great wonder,Īnd suddenly the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke. For into Merry’s mind flashed the memory of theįace that he saw at the riding from Dunharrow: the face of one that goes ![]() Th éoden whispers to Merry, "Grieve not! It is forgiven. Merry, wounded from his own valiant deed, creeps up to the king and humbly makes his presence known. H éoden lay dying on the battlefield after doing great deeds, aided in his last triumph by the Lady Éowyn and Merry the hobbit in secret, who did even mightier deeds than the king himself. Of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy ofīattle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and Morning came, morning and a wind from the sea and darkness was removed,Īnd the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled,Īnd died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. Golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun,Īnd the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. The Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. Veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë Seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helmįloating in his speed, and the front of the first éored roared like aīreaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he wasĮver before them. Him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but "Suddenly the king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away. More clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before: He seemed again and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, Sound the bent shape of the king sprang suddenly erect. ![]() Its topmost tower like a glittering needle and then as darkness closedĪgain there came rolling over the fields a great boom. For a searing second it stood dazzling far off in black and white, Was a flash, as if lightning had sprung from the earth beneath theĬity. The South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: aĬhange. Théoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Merry himself felt as if a great weight of horror andĭoubt had settled upon him. Stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if Unchallenged, and still Théoden gave no signal. " After a while the king led his men away somewhat eastward, to comeīetween the fires of the siege and the outer fields. H éoden, King of Rohan, is leading his men (and one disguised woman) to the aid of besieged Minas Tirith. ![]()
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