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27.07.2014

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𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖚𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖚𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖘𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖆𝖘 𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖜𝖘.
Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Dire deeds awake: dark is it eastward.
Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded!
Forth Eorlingas!

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!No information given.No information given.