The battle rages around me. Where is my Uncle? Where is the King? Suddenly I see him. He is no longer sitting on his steed in glory. He is under his dead horse that was brought down by an arrow. I hear a rush of wings, and the Witch-king approaches my Uncle, the King. The Foul Captain shall not touch him. I must defend my lord and kin. I fear not death or pain. I stand before the Black Captain and tell him to depart. He scoffs at me and says no man can kill him. What a fool! I laugh. Taking off my helm of secretary, I show him I am not a man. Declaring my name to him, I raise my sword and bring an end to his fell beast. The Witch-king raises his mace. I lift up my shield to deflect the blow. Oh the pain! My shield-arm is broken! The mace is lifted again. This is the end, but I care not. I shall at least have the honor of a warrior's death. The Witch-king falls to his knees. How can that be? It is the little hobbit I took into this battle that stabbed the Fell Thing. I lift up my sword with all my strength and plunge it into my enemy's face. I hear a defeated cry. My arm is cold. Everything is going black. Farewell my Uncle.