Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
The Battle of the Pelennor Fields
Theoutstretchedneckshecloveasunder,andthehewnheadfelllikeastone.Backwardshesprangasthehugeshapecrashedtoruin,vastwingsoutspread,crumpledontheearth;andwithitsfalltheshadowpassedaway.Alightfellabouther,andherhairshoneinthesunrise.
OutofthewreckrosetheBlackRider,tallandthreatening,toweringaboveher.Withacryofhatredthatstungtheveryearslikevenomheletfallhismace.Hershieldwasshiveredinmanypieces,andherarmwasbroken;shestumbledtoherknees.Hebentoverherlikeacloud,andhiseyesglittered;heraisedhismacetokill.
Butsuddenlyhetoostumbledforwardwithacryofbitterpain,andhisstrokewentwide,drivingintotheground.Merry’sswordhadstabbedhimfrombehind,shearingthroughtheblackmantle,andpassingupbeneaththehauberkhadpiercedthesinewbehindhismightyknee.
‘Éowyn!Éowyn!’criedMerry.Thentottering,strugglingup,withherlaststrengthshedroveherswordbetweencrownandmantle,asthegreatshouldersbowedbeforeher.Theswordbrokesparklingintomanyshards.Thecrownrolledawaywithaclang.Éowynfellforwarduponherfallenfoe.Butlo!themantleandhauberkwereempty.Shapelesstheylaynowontheground,tornandtumbled;andacrywentupintotheshudderingair,andfadedtoashrillwailing,passingwiththewind,avoicebodilessandthinthatdied,andwasswallowedup,andwasneverheardagaininthatageofthisworld.
