“And it may be that Eru has set a greater fire in me than thou knowest.”
-Feanor to Manwe’s herald
Tag Archive: lotr
“Hold your ground. Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan… my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Men fails; when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the Age of Man comes crashing down – but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth – I bid you stand! Men of the West!”
“So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to you.” – Gandalf
“Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment.” – Gandalf
Grond crawled on. The drums rolled wildly. Over the hills of slain a hideous shape appeared: a horseman, tall, hooded and cloaked in black. Slowly, trampling the fallen, he rode forth, heeding no longer any dart. He halted and held up a long pale sword. And as he did so a great fear fell on all, defender and foe alike; and the hands of men drooped to their sides, and no bow sang. For a moment all was still.
…
Then the Black Captain rose in his stirrups and cried aloud in a dreadful voice, speaking in some forgotten tongue words of power and terror to rend both heart and stone.
Thrice he cried. Thrice the great ram boomed. And suddenly upon the last stroke the Gate of Gondor broke.
…
In rode the Lord of the Nazgul. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In he rode, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.
All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dinen.
‘You cannot enter here,’ said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted.
“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!”
These staves he spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more the lust of battle was on him, and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king, the lord of a fell people.
