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crown.
    Éomer stepped back and a look of awe was in his face. He cast down his proud eyes. ‘These are indeed strange days,’ he muttered.
     ‘Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass.
    ‘Tell me, lord,’ he said, ‘what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor
     been gone seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North?’
    ‘The doom of choice,’ said Aragorn. ‘You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or
     against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters
     we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least
     for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?’
    ‘That you need not pursue them further,’ said Éomer. ‘The Orcs are destroyed.’
    ‘And our friends?’
    ‘We found none but Orcs.’
    ‘But that is strange indeed,’ said Aragorn. ‘Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind?
    They would be small, only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey.’
    ‘There were no dwarves nor children,’ said Éomer. ‘We counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases
     and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still.’
    ‘We do not speak of dwarves or children,’ said Gimli. ‘Our friends were hobbits.’
    ‘Hobbits?’ said Éomer. ‘And what may they be? It is a strange name.’
    ‘A strange name for a strange folk,’ said Gimli. ‘But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of
     the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings.’
    ‘Halflings!’ laughed the Rider that stood beside Éomer. ‘Halflings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children’s
     tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?’
    ‘A man may do both,’ said Aragorn. ‘For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth,
     say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!’
    ‘Time is pressing,’ said the Rider, not heeding Aragorn. ‘We must hasten south, lord. Let us leave these wild folk to their
     fancies. Or let us bind them and take them to the king.’
    ‘Peace, Éothain!’ said Éomer in his own tongue. ‘Leave me a while. Tell the
éored
to assemble on the path, and make ready to ride to the Entwade.’
    Muttering Éothain retired, and spoke to the others. Soon they drew off and left Éomer alone with the three companions.
    ‘All that you say is strange, Aragorn,’ he said. ‘Yet you speak the truth, that is plain: the Men of the Mark do not lie,
     and therefore they are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so
     that I may judge what to do?’
    ‘I set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago,’ answered Aragorn. ‘With me went Boromir of Minas Tirith.
     My errand was to go to that city with the son of Denethor, to aid his folk in their war against Sauron. But the Company that
     I journeyed with had other business. Of that I cannot speak now. Gandalf the Grey was our leader.’
    ‘Gandalf!’ Éomer exclaimed. ‘Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark; but his name, I warn you, is no longer a password to
     the king’s favour. He has been a guest in the land many times in the memory of men, coming as he will, after a season, or
     after many years. He is ever the herald of strange events: a bringer of evil, some now say.
    ‘Indeed since his last coming in the summer all things have gone amiss. At that time our trouble with Saruman began. Until
     then we counted Saruman our