One of my favorite chapters, as I'm sure it is for everyone else.
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Then Theoden was aware of him, and would not wait for his onset, but crying to Snowmane he charged headlong to greet him.
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No hesitation, no doubting. Folly, or strategy? I would say it was leadership in it's purest sense. King vs. King. Leader upon leader. No directing from the rear ranks in this heroic clash.
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A creature of an older world maybe it was, whose kind, lingering in forgotten mountains cold beneath the Moon, outstayed their day, and in hideous eyrie bred this last untimely brood, apt to evil.
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Vivid, descriptive, heroic style, almost poetic. Wonderfull! This chapter is full of such examples. As if a thousand songs were sung of the events in this chapter alone.
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Down, down it came, and then, folding its fingered webs, it gave a croacking cry, and settled upon the body of Snowmane, digging in its claws, stooping its long naked neck.
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I can almost hear the good Professor's voice recite that.
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A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone. Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away.
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A truly Rohirric manuver. Kill the steed and then deal with the rider.
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Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up and was never heard again in that age of this world.
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Whither anon will he be heard again?