The baying of a horn shook the morning air. Gavin son of Erimar's heart constricted for a moment. This is really happening, he thought, gazing down at the massive orc horde below. We're all about to die.

And especially me, he added, wishing with all his heart to be anywhere else but the front line.

He shook himself mentally. You are a rider of Rohan. And the riders of Rohan do not fear death. Damn it. The pep talk wasn't working. The veteran riders always said they would, didn't they? Albeit with a somewhat sarcastic tone of voice, come to think of it…

He shifted in his saddle. He surreptitiously eyed the horsemen to his sides. They all wore the same stoic expression that Gavin prayed to the Valar he was wearing as well.

Then the royal vocal chords let loose with a thunderous call to arms that banished his fears like the Uruks from the Deep: "Arise! Arise, riders of Theoden! Spear shall be shaken…"

Now this was a pep talk.

And what was this? A series of clanging noises was spreading from the left flank. It sounded like…

His head whipped around in amazement. King Theoden was riding across the Rohirrim ranks, his sword held high, clanging against the outstretched spears of his men.

His jaw dropped. His eyes stared. His mind began to shut down. To have my humble spear touched by Herugrim itself! Oh, what honor! what privilege! And in that moment, he would not have traded his position at the front line for all the gold in Rohan.

With irrepressible hope and a boyish glee that almost fit his age, he watched as the King's steed thundered closer…closer…closer…

He squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the moment of blessed impact…

…And then the king peeled off from his charge, his sword bare millimeters from Gavin's spear.

He fought desperately to keep the shock from his face. But as shock turned to dismay, he couldn't stop the tear from rolling down his cheek.

And then dismay gave way to rage.

So when the Rohirrim gave three mighty shouts of DEATH, his wasn't just directed at the orcs ahead…