From the Lord of the Rings, the Riders of Rohan
The Rider looked at 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.