There's a story that once a great and ancient city was put under siege.

The city had been surrounded by its enemies who were about to finish their grim work and

commence their final assault.

The defenders were outnumbered and deeply demoralized.

But just then, at the moment when things appeared the darkest, a horn was heard trumpeting

from the horizon.

A mighty army rode into view led by a warrior king.

The king rode a majestic white steed named Snowman that shone like a beacon of hope to

the beleaguered defenders on the city walls.

And then were told, quote, suddenly the king cried to Snowman in the horse sprang away.

Behind him, his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a green field, but he outpaced

it.

After him, thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them.

Faye, he seemed, or the battle fury of his fathers, ran like a new fire in his veins,

and he was born up on Snowman like a god of old.

His golden shield was uncovered, and low, it shone like an image of the sun, and the grass

flamed into green about the white feet of his steed.

For the morning came, morning and a wind from the sea, and darkness was removed, and

the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror struck them, and they fled and died, and the hoof

of wrath rode over them.

And then, all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew for the joy

of battle was on them.

...