He looked around, amazed.
This was his hall, his home; the carvings as familiar as his own hand. Around him stood his warriors, with looks of wonder on their faces as if they had not seen his like in a long time. And who was this, at his feet, head bowed and sword offered up? Éomer? And what was Gandalf asking?
His hand crept to the hilt and grasped it with fingers that tightened as strength and clarity returned.
Théoden lifted the sword high. He was still the King. There was still time for hope.
The shout echoed: "Théoden King!"
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.