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But
it
was
no
orc-chieftain
or
brigand
that
led
the
assault
upon
Gondor
.
The
darkness
was
breaking
too
soon
,
before
the
date
that
his
Master
had
set
for
it
:
fortune
had
betrayed
him
for
the
moment
,
and
the
world
had
turned
against
him
;
victory
was
slipping
from
his
grasp
even
as
he
stretched
out
his
hand
to
seize
it
.
But
his
arm
was
long
.
He
was
still
in
command
,
wielding
great
powers
.
King
,
Ringwraith
,
Lord
of
the
Nazgûl
,
he
had
many
weapons
.
He
left
the
Gate
and
vanished
.
Théoden
King
of
the
Mark
had
reached
the
road
from
the
Gate
to
the
River
,
and
he
turned
towards
the
City
that
was
now
less
than
a
mile
distant
.
He
slackened
his
speed
a
little
,
seeking
new
foes
,
and
his
knights
came
about
him
,
and
Dernhelm
was
with
them
.
Ahead
nearer
the
walls
Elfhelm
's
men
were
among
the
siege-engines
,
hewing
,
slaying
,
driving
their
foes
into
the
fire-pits
.
Well
nigh
all
the
northern
half
of
the
Pelennor
was
overrun
,
and
there
camps
were
blazing
,
orcs
were
flying
towards
the
River
like
herds
before
the
hunters
;
and
the
Rohirrim
went
hither
and
thither
at
their
will
.
But
they
had
not
yet
overthrown
the
siege
,
nor
won
the
Gate
.
Many
foes
stood
before
it
,
and
on
the
further
half
of
the
plain
were
other
hosts
still
unfought
.
Southward
beyond
the
road
lay
the
main
force
of
the
Haradrim
,
and
there
their
horsemen
were
gathered
about
the
standard
of
their
chieftain
.
And
he
looked
out
,
and
in
the
growing
light
he
saw
the
banner
of
the
king
,
and
that
it
was
far
ahead
of
the
battle
with
few
men
about
it
.
Then
he
was
filled
with
a
red
wrath
and
shouted
aloud
,
and
displaying
his
standard
,
black
serpent
upon
scarlet
,
he
came
against
the
white
horse
and
the
green
with
great
press
of
men
;
and
the
drawing
of
the
scimitars
of
the
Southrons
was
like
a
glitter
of
stars
.
Then
Théoden
was
aware
of
him
,
and
would
not
wait
for
his
onset
,
but
crying
to
Snowmane
he
charged
headlong
to
greet
him
.
Great
was
the
clash
of
their
meeting
.
But
the
white
fury
of
the
Northmen
burned
the
hotter
,
and
more
skilled
was
their
knighthood
with
long
spears
and
bitter
.
Fewer
were
they
but
they
clove
through
the
Southrons
like
a
fire-bolt
in
a
forest
.
Right
through
the
press
drove
Théoden
Thengel
's
son
,
and
his
spear
was
shivered
as
he
threw
down
their
chieftain
.
Out
swept
his
sword
,
and
he
spurred
to
the
standard
,
hewed
staff
and
bearer
;
and
the
black
serpent
foundered
.
Then
all
that
was
left
unslain
of
their
cavalry
turned
and
fled
far
away
.
But
lo
!
suddenly
in
the
midst
of
the
glory
of
the
king
his
golden
shield
was
dimmed
.
The
new
morning
was
blotted
from
the
sky
.
Dark
fell
about
him
.
Horses
reared
and
screamed
.
Men
cast
from
the
saddle
lay
grovelling
on
the
ground
.
'
To
me
!
To
me
!
'
cried
Théoden
.
'
Up
Eorlingas
!
Fear
no
darkness
!
'
But
Snowmane
wild
with
terror
stood
up
on
high
,
fighting
with
the
air
,
and
then
with
a
great
scream
he
crashed
upon
his
side
:
a
black
dart
had
pierced
him
.
The
king
fell
beneath
him
.
The
great
shadow
descended
like
a
falling
cloud
.
And
behold
!
it
was
a
winged
creature
:
if
bird
,
then
greater
than
all
other
birds
,
and
it
was
naked
,
and
neither
quill
nor
feather
did
it
bear
,
and
its
vast
pinions
were
as
webs
of
hide
between
horned
fingers
;
and
it
stank
.
A
creature
of
an
older
world
maybe
it
was
,
whose
kind
,
fingering
in
forgotten
mountains
cold
beneath
the
Moon
,
outstayed
their
day
,
and
in
hideous
eyrie
bred
this
last
untimely
brood
,
apt
to
evil
.
And
the
Dark
Lord
took
it
,
and
nursed
it
with
fell
meats
,
until
it
grew
beyond
the
measure
of
all
other
things
that
fly
;
and
he
gave
it
to
his
servant
to
be
his
steed
.
Down
,
down
it
came
,
and
then
,
folding
its
fingered
webs
,
it
gave
a
croaking
cry
,
and
settled
upon
the
body
of
Snowmane
,
digging
in
its
claws
,
stooping
its
long
naked
neck
.
Upon
it
sat
a
shape
,
black-mantled
,
huge
and
threatening
.
A
crown
of
steel
he
bore
,
but
between
rim
and
robe
naught
was
there
to
see
,
save
only
a
deadly
gleam
of
eyes
:
the
Lord
of
the
Nazgûl
.
To
the
air
he
had
returned
,
summoning
his
steed
ere
the
darkness
failed
,
and
now
he
was
come
again
,
bringing
ruin
,
turning
hope
to
despair
,
and
victory
to
death
.
A
great
black
mace
he
wielded
.
But
Théoden
was
not
utterly
forsaken
.
The
knights
of
his
house
lay
slain
about
him
,
or
else
mastered
by
the
madness
of
their
steeds
were
borne
far
away
.
Yet
one
stood
there
still
:
Dernhelm
the
young
,
faithful
beyond
fear
;
and
he
wept
,
for
he
had
loved
his
lord
as
a
father
.
Right
through
the
charge
Merry
had
been
borne
unharmed
behind
him
,
until
the
Shadow
came
;
and
then
Windfola
had
thrown
them
in
his
terror
,
and
now
ran
wild
upon
the
plain
.
