The End of All

The White City is besieged. It's mighty gates are broken, the walls are burning. Far above the screeches of the Black Riders reach our ears.

Our king has summoned us to battle. Our king, tall and proud. Eomer rides with him; a true friend, a mighty warrior.

My horse neighs nervously, and I pat her neck. She has never stood on a battlefield such as this before.

And then a horn rings through the air, and we turno ur backs on the White City, to see what goes on.

And then we see them; taller as the tallest battle tower, carrying hundreds of men. The Mûmakils of Harad have come.

We charge straight on, heeding not the cries of horror and bewilderment that rise from the walls. The great creatures begin running, and cries of horses and Mûmakils pierce the air.

A second too late I realize that a horse can do naught against the thundering power of these creatures, so filled I am with the courage and strength of my people. And when my mare calls out in terror, I can only watch as the giant snout comes crashing down.

He will always be stronger, the Mûmak.