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voice seemed strange； recalling some other voice that he had known。
'Begone； foul dwimmerlaik； lord of carrion！ Leave the dead in peace！'
A cold voice answered： 'e not between the Nazg？l 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。'
A sword rang as it was drawn。 'Do what you will； but I will hinder it； if I may。'
'Hinder me？ Thou fool。 No living man may hinder me！'
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。 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。'
The winged creature screamed at her； but the Ringwraith made no answer； and was silent； as if
in sudden doubt。 Very amazement for a moment conquered Merry's fear。 He opened his eyes and
the blackness was lifted from them。 There some paces from him sat the great beast； and all seemed
dark about it； and above it loomed the Nazg？l Lord like a shadow of despair。 A little to the left
facing them stood she whom he had called Dernhelm。 But the helm of her secrecy； 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 raised her shield against the horror of her enemy's eyes。
éowyn it was； and Dernhelm also。 For into Merry's mind flashed the memory of the face that he
saw at the riding from Dunharrow： the face of one that goes seeking death； having no hope。 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。
The face of their enemy was not turned towards him； but still he hardly dared to move； dreading
lest the deadly eyes should fall on him。 Slowly； slowly he began to crawl aside； but the Black
Captain； in doubt and malice intent upon the woman before him； heeded him no more than a worm
in the mud。
Suddenly the great beast beat its hideous wings； and the wind of them was foul。 Again it leaped
into the air； and then swiftly fell down upon éowyn； shrieking； striking with beak and claw。
Still she did not blench： maiden of the Rohirrim； child of kings； slender but as a steel…blade； fair
but 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。
Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider； tall and threatening； towering above her。 With a cry of
hatred that stung the very ears like venom he let fall his mace。 Her shield was shivered in many
pieces； and her arm was broken； she stumbled to her knees。 He bent over her like a cloud； and his
eyes glittered； he raised his mace to kill。
But suddenly he too stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain； and his stroke went wide；
driving into the ground。 Merry's sword had stabbed him from behind； shearing through the black
mantle； and passing up beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee。
'éowyn！ éowyn！' cried Merry。 Then tottering； struggling up； with her last strength she drove her
sword between crown and mantle； as the great shoulders bowed before her。 The sword broke
sparkling into many shards。 The crown rolled away with a clang。 éowyn fell forward upon her
fallen foe。 But lo！ the mantle and hauberk were empty。 Shapeless they lay now on the ground； torn
and tumbled； and a cry went up into the shuddering air； and faded to a shrill wailing； passing with
the wind； a voice bodiless and thin that died； and was swallowed up； and was never heard again in
that age of this world。
And there stood Meriadoc the hobbit in the midst of the slain； blinking like an owl in the
daylight； for tears blinded him； and through a mist he looked on éowyn's fair head； as she lay and
did not move； and he looked on the face of the king； fallen in the midst of his glory； For Snowmane
in his agony had rolled away from him again； yet he was the bane of his master。
Then Merry stooped and lifted his hand to kiss it； and lo！ Théoden opened his eyes； and they
were clear； and he spoke in a quiet voice though laboured。
'Farewell； Master Holbytla！' he said。 'My body is broken。 I go to my fathers。 And even in their
mighty pany I shall not now be ashamed。 I felled the black serpent。 A grim morn； and a glad
day； and a golden sunset！'
Merry could not speak； but wept anew。 'Forgive me； lord；' he said at last； 'if I broke your
mand； and yet have done no more in your service than to weep at our parting。'
The old king smiled。 'Grieve not！ It is forgiven。 Great heart will not be denied。 Live now in
blessedness； and when you sit in peace with your pipe； think of me！ For never now shall I sit with
you in Meduseld； as I promised； or listen to your herb…lore。' He closed his eyes； and Merry bowed
beside him。 Presently he spoke again。 'Where is éomer？ For my eyes darken； and I would see him
ere I go。 He must be king after me。 And I would send word to éowyn。 She； she would not have me
leave her； and now I shall not see her again； dearer than daughter。'
'Lord； lord；' began Merry brokenly； 'she is…'； but at that moment there was a great clamour； and
all about them horns and trumpets were blowing。 Merry looked round： he had forgotten the war；
and all the world beside； and many hours it seemed since the king rode to his fall； though in truth it
was only a little while。 But now he saw that they were in danger of being caught in the very midst
of the great battle that would soon be joined。
New forces of the enemy were hastening up the road from the River； and from under the walls
came the legions of Morgul； and from the southward fields came footmen of Harad with horsemen
before them； and behind them rose the huge backs of the _m？makil_ with war…towers upon them。
But northward the white crest of éomer led the great front of the Rohirrim which he had again
gathered and marshalled； and out of the City came all the strength of men that was in it； and the
silver swan of Dol Amroth was borne in the van； driving the enemy from the Gate。
For a moment the thought flitted through Merry's mind： 'Where is Gandalf？ Is he not here？
Could he not have saved the king and éowyn？' But thereupon éomer rode up in haste； and with him
came the knights of the household that still lived and had now mastered their horses。 They looked
in wonder at the carcase of the fell beast that lay there： and their steeds would not go near。 But
éomer leaped from the saddle； and grief and dismay fell upon him as he came to the king's side and
stood there in silence。
Then one of the knights took the king's banner from the hand of Guthláf the banner…bearer who
lay dead； and he lifted it up。 Slowly Théoden opened his eyes。 Seeing the banner he made a sign
that it should be given to éomer。
'Hail； King of the Mark！' he said。 'Ride now to victory！ Bid éowyn farewell！' And so he died；
and knew not that éowyn lay near him。 And those who stood by wept； crying： 'Théoden King！
Théoden King！'
But éomer said to them：
Mourn not overmuch！ Mighty was the fallen；
meet was his ending。 When his mound is raised；
women then shall weep。 War now calls us！
Yet he himself wept as he spoke。 'Let his knights remain here；' he said； 'and bear his body in
honour from the field； lest the battle ride over it！ Yea； and all these other of the king's men that lie
here。' And he looked at the slain； recalling their names。 Then suddenly he beheld his sister éowyn
as she lay； and he knew her。 He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an
arrow through the heart； and then his face went deathly white； and a cold fury rose in him； so that
all speech failed him for a while。 A fey mood took him。
'éowyn； éowyn！' he cried at last： 'éowyn； how e 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。
And still Meriadoc