This is no mere ranger, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you owe him your allegiance.
There is a fell voice on the air.
Why doesn't that surprise me?
We must move on, we cannot linger.
Our fellowship stands in your debt.
He was taken by both shadow and flame; a Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria.
A lament to Gandalf.
I have not the heart to tell you, for me the grief is still too near.
We should leave now. It is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it.
Hurry! Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore. You mean not to follow them.
Come on Gimli!
They may yet be alive.
come, gimli! we're gaining on them
The uruks turn northeast. they're taking the hobbits to isenguard.
They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them
You would die before your stroke fell
This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory, and anger.
The trees are speaking to each other.
They have feelings my friend. The elves began it, waking up the trees, teaching them to speak.
Aragorn, something's out there. (elvish)
The white wizard approaches.
Forgive me, I mistook you for Saruman
That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell.
You're late (elvish)
You look terrible.
Aragorn you must rest. You're no use to us half alive.
...or too few.
Look at them, they're frightened. I can see it in their eyes.
And they should be. 300 against 10000. They cannot win this fight. They are all going to die. (Elvish)
We have trusted you this far you have not let us astray. Forgive me, I was wrong to despair.
Your friends are with you, Aragorn.
Shall I describe it to you, or would you like me to find you a box?
Their armor is weak at the neck... and beneath the arm. (Elvish)
Final count... 42.
43. It was twitching.
Extra from script: Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath (May they find peace in death.)
So, it's a drinking game?
I feel something, a slight tingling of the fingers. I think it's affecting me.
The stars are veiled. Something stirs in the east. A sleepless malice. The eye of the enemy is moving.
He is here.
Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands.
The horses are restless, and the men are quiet.
One that is cursed. Long ago the men of the mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor. To come to his aide, to fight. but when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire. They fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest, until they have fulfilled their pledge.
"who shall call them from the gray twilight, the forgotten people, the heir of whom they oath they swore. from the north he shall come. need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the paths of the dead. "
I see shapes of men and of horses. Pale banners like shreds of cloud, Spears rising like winter thickets through a shroud of mist. The dead are following. They have been summoned.
What about side by side with a friend?
(G: never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf.
L: what about side by side with a friend?
G: Aye, I could do that.)