From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning

with thane and captain rode Thengel's son:

to Edoras he came, the ancient halls

of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;

golden timbers were in gloom mantled.

Farewell he bade his free people,

hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,

where long he had feasted ere the light faded.

Forth rode the king, fear behind him,

fate before him. Fealty kept he;

oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.

Forth rode Théoden. Five nights and days

east and onward rode the Eorlingas

through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,

six thousand spears to Sunlending,

Mundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,

Sea-king's city in the South-kingdom

foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.

Doom drove them on. Darkness took them,

horse and horseman; hoofbeats afar

sank into silence: so the songs tell us.