I will probably have to get a new highlighter by the end of this...but its just so good I cant help myself!
" But soon there were few left in Minas Tirith who had the heart to stand up and defy the hosts of Mordor. For yet another weapon, swifter than hunger, the Lord of the Dark Tower had: dread and despair."
"So it was that Gandalf took command of the last defence of the City of Gondor. Wherever he came men's hearts would lift again, and the winged shadows pass from memory. Tirelessly he strode..from north to south about the wall; and with him went the Prince of Dol Amroth in his shining mail...Men that saw them whispered saying: "Belike the old tales speak well; there is Elvish blood in the veins of that fold.." And then one would sing amid the gloom some stave of the Lay of Nimrodel, or other songs of Val of Anduin out of vanished years."
And yet-when they had gone, the shadows closed on the men again, and their hearts went cold, and the valour of Gondor withered into ash. "
"Poor Faramir!" (Pippin) thought. "I must find Gandalf. Poor Faramir! Quick likely he needs medicine more than tears. Oh, where can I find Gandalf? In the thick of things, I suppose; and he will have no time to spare for dying men or madmen."
"Old fool!" ( The king of the Nazgul) said. "Old fool! THis is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!" And with that he lifted high his sword and flames ran down the blade."
Gandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn. And is if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. Rohan had come at last."
"Now is the hour come, Riders of the Mark, sons of Eorl! Foes and fire are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon an alien field, the glory that you reap there shall be your own for ever. Oaths ye have taken: now fulfil them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!" ...Forth now, and fear no darkness!"
Merry himself felt as if a great weight of horror and doubt had settled on him. His heart beat slowly. Time seemed poised in uncertainty. They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Theoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills. Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering...morning lay beyond them.
But Theoden was utterly forsaken. The knights of his house lay slain about him...Yet one stood there still: Dernhelm the young, faithful beyond fear; and he wept, for he had loved his lord as a father. "
"Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me! ( cried the Lord of the Nazgul).
Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. "But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund'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!" ...
Very amazment for a moment conqured Merry's fear. He opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them. There some paces from him...loomed the Nazgul Lord like a shadow of despair. Facing him stood she whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her secrect had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. 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 raided her shield agains the horror of her enemy's eyes."
"Farewell, Master Hobbit!" Theoden said. "My body is broken. I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!"
"Eowyn! Eowyn!" cried (Eomer, her brother). "Eowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!"
Then without taking counsel or waiting for the approach of the men of the City he spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: "Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!"
And with that the host began to move. But the Rohirrim sang no more. Death they cried with one voice loud and terrible, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept about their fallen king and passed, roaring away southwards.
Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur's heir, out of the Paths of Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kngdom of Gondor; and the mirth of the Rohirrim was a torrent of laughter and a flashing of swords, and the joy and wonder of the Ciry was a music of trumpets and a ringing of bells.
And so at length Eomer and Aragorn met in the midst of the battle, and they leaned on their swords and looked on one another and were glad.