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He was a masterful man, and one to take what he desired.
‘Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.’
generous deed should not be checked by cold counsel.
We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.’
He is bold, more bold than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a captain can be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and yet a man of hardihood and swift judgement in the field.
‘A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps; but on the wrong chessboard.’
Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.’
Over the land there lies a long shadow, westward reaching wings of darkness. The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings doom approaches. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers: at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
‘Lord,’ she said, ‘if you must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of skulking in the hills, and wish to face peril and battle.’
‘Too often have I heard of duty,’ she cried. ‘But am I not of the House of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse? I have waited on faltering feet long enough. Since they falter no longer, it seems, may I not now spend my life as I will?’
‘Shall I always be chosen?’ she said bitterly. ‘Shall I always be left behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win renown, and find food and beds when they return?’
And she answered: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.’
‘A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’
And indeed the love that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great that they were willing to face even the terror of the Door, if their masters’ hearts were steady as they walked beside them.
‘An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!’
From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning with thane and captain rode Thengel’s son: to Edoras he came, the ancient halls of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded; golden timbers were in gloom mantled. Farewell he bade to his free people, hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places, where long he had feasted ere the light faded. Forth rode the king, fear behind him, fate before him. Fealty kept he; oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them. Forth rode Théoden. Five nights and days east and onward rode the Eorlingas through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood, six thousand spears to Sunlending,
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I pity even his slaves.’
not by the hand of man shall he fall,
‘And as for orders, I think you have a madman to deal with, not a lord.
Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dínen.
‘You cannot enter
Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden! Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!
Yet one stood there still: Dernhelm the young, faithful beyond fear; and he wept, for he had loved his lord as a father.
‘Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!’ A cold voice answered: ‘Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.’
No living man may hinder me!’
‘But no living man am I!
You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.’
Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes.
Pity filled his heart and great wonder, and suddenly the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke.
He clenched his hand. She should not die, so fair, so desperate! At least she should not die alone, unaided.
Still she did not blench: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet terrible. A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone. Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. A light fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise.
Great heart will not be denied.
Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen, meet was his ending. When his mound is raised, women then shall weep. War now calls us!
‘Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world’s ending!’
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.
Faithful servant yet master’s bane, Lightfoot’s foal, swift Snowmane.
Out of doubt, out of dark to the day’s rising I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. To hope’s end I rode and to heart’s breaking: Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!
And then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. And all eyes followed his gaze, and behold! upon the foremost ship a great standard broke, and the wind displayed it as she turned towards the Harlond. There flowered a White Tree, and that was for Gondor; but Seven Stars were about it, and a high crown above it, the signs of Elendil that no lord had borne for years beyond count. And the stars flamed in the sunlight, for they were wrought of gems by Arwen daughter of Elrond; and the crown was bright in the morning, for it was wrought
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We heard of the horns in the hills ringing, the swords shining in the South-kingdom. Steeds went striding to the Stoningland as wind in the morning. War was kindled. There Théoden fell, Thengling mighty, to his golden halls and green pastures in the Northern fields never returning, high lord of the host. Harding and Guthláf, Dúnhere and Déorwine, doughty Grimbold, Herefara and Herubrand, Horn and Fastred, fought and fell there in a far country: in the Mounds of Mundburg under mould they lie with their league-fellows, lords of Gondor. Neither Hirluin the Fair to the hills by the sea, nor
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But Gandalf sprang up the steps, and the men fell back from him and covered their eyes; for his coming was like the incoming of a white light into a dark place, and he came with great anger.
The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.’
Thus spake Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.’
And Aragorn hearing him, turned and said: ‘Verily, for in the high tongue of old I am Elessar, the Elfstone, and Envinyatar, the Renewer’: and he lifted from his breast the green stone that lay there. ‘But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body.’
When the black breath blows and death’s shadow grows and all lights pass, come athelas! come athelas! Life to the dying In the king’s hand lying!
‘King! Did you hear that? What did I say? The hands of a healer, I said.’ And soon the word had gone out from the House that the king was indeed come among them, and after war he brought healing; and the news ran through the City.
‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.
At least while there is an empty saddle of some fallen Rider that I can fill, and there are deeds to do.
But if all the fair folk take to the Havens, it will be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay.’
Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui In the green fields of Lebennin! Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea The white lilies sway, And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin In the green fields of Lebennin, In the wind from the Sea!
‘Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.
