Suddenly the king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away.
Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green,
but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was
ever before them. 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 battlefury
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 battle of the
Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it
shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the
white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea;
and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took
them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And
then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the
joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and
terrible came even to the City.
