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them with renewed wonder, but his eyes hardened. ‘Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales
     tell!’ he said. ‘Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers
     and sorcerers, maybe.’ He turned a cold glance suddenly upon Legolas and Gimli. ‘Why do you not speak, silent ones?’ he demanded.
    Gimli rose and planted his feet firmly apart: his hand gripped the handle of his axe, and his dark eyes flashed. ‘Give me
     your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides,’ he said.
    ‘As for that,’ said the Rider, staring down at the Dwarf, ‘the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer
     son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.’
    ‘Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin’s son warn you against foolish words. You
     speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you.’
    Éomer’s eyes blazed, and the Men of Rohan murmured angrily, and closed in, advancing their spears. ‘I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a
     little higher from the ground,’ said Éomer.
    ‘He stands not alone,’ said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. ‘You would
     die before your stroke fell.’
    Éomer raised his sword, and things might have gone ill, but Aragorn sprang between them, and raised his hand. ‘Your pardon,
     Éomer!’ he cried. ‘When you know more you will understand why you have angered my companions. We intend no evil to Rohan,
     nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?’
    ‘I will,’ said Éomer lowering his blade. ‘But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of
     doubt. First tell me your right name.’
    ‘First tell me whom you serve,’ said Aragorn. ‘Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?’
    ‘I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel,’ answered Éomer. ‘We do not serve the Power of the Black
     Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this
     land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have
     lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these
     times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do
you
serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?’
    ‘I serve no man,’ said Aragorn; ‘but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal
     Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two
     of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor
     will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless.’
    Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. ‘Elendil!’ he cried. ‘I am
     Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is
     the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!’
    Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have
     grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the
     kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a
     shining