Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur’s son, Elendil’s son of Númenor.

Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen.

I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the

War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her

Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.’

None save Legolas and Aragorn could long endure her glance.

Then some being shamed by his mercy overcame their fear and went on, and the others took new hope, hearing of a manful deed within their measure that they could turn to, and they departed.

Then she raised her head and looked him in the eyes again; and a colour came in her pale face. ‘How should I ease your care, my lord?’ she said. ‘And I do not desire the speech of living men.’ ‘Would you have my plain answer?’ he said. ‘I would.’ ‘Then, Éowyn of Rohan, I say to you that you are beautiful. In the valleys of our hills there are