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“Where now the horse and the rider?Where is the horn that was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk,and the bright hair flowing?

Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.”

(Lament of the Rohirrim)

Hidden swords and whispered words ,shall Grima heal my pain?

my shoulders bent, my tremblin’ hand

I saw the clouds

I wait for the rain.

He’s the One who watchin’ darkness doesn’t close his eyes

thunder from his severe wood, woke me from the dead of night

I failed to see

I failed to do

I’ll repair my wrongs!

Punishment…for those who fooled me!

for the faithful…crowns!

I hail you Land!

I pray and bow my head.

Black clouds are approaching from the eastern sky

like the fathers of the fathers of your fathers ride!

and if you want

…sing for me once more!

Here are now the black ghosts of the Nine who died

horse,make shadows fear our last ride,

hear my battle cry!

I’ll pay in blood,let me earn some pride!

Kings!

they live in battle, in battle they die...

they find glory on Middle Earth or at Manwe’s side

Here I fall!

I fought and won and died!