A hush spread throughout the Rohan camp as dusk fell. They cast their gaze upon him as he rode into their presence upon his black war steed. Whispers parted from lips...murmuring that filled the entire camp as the Rohirrim that were once sitting were now found standing as he passed by them. One word was heard over and over again, Dwimorden...Dwimordene...Dwimordene... In their human eyes a phantom of the Lorien valley had entered their camp...a ghost...one who has no life in him but only the offerings of death.
Tahjun rode through the camp as he looked upon the gazers. His eyes did not waver as he looked them straight in the eyes till they turned their faces. He knew as much as they hated him they were also in awe of him. For few have ever seen in Dwimordene.
Tahjun recalled the words of Gandalf The Grey,
In Dwimordene, in Lórien
Seldom have walked the feet of Men,
Few mortal eyes have seen the light
That lies there ever, long and bright.
Galadriel! Galadriel!
Clear is the water of your well;
White is the star in your white hand;
Unmarred, unstained is leaf and land
In Dwimordene, in Lórien
More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.
Tahjun whispered Gandalf's last line out loud as he rode up to the one he assumed was in charge for this one stood apart in armour as well as in presence of character. Theodred, son of the King Theoden of Rohan.
"I am here to aid you Prince!" Tahjun boldly said.
