Pounding the earth of passing plains
Swiftly he paced, and glimmered in gray
Lifted his neck, and neighed gay
Ran faster from fear above, the ringwraith

Away to the White Towers in proud, strong Gondor
To safe refuge he paced with burdens of two
Pausing and lifting his head to the moon new
He called of rank, and summoned his followers

Stretching his legs, he eagerly raced
He leapt over creeks, and followed the cliffs
Firing red of beacons that are lit
Call to arms! Rohirrim to our aid!

Swifter he ran, with a word of haste
He galloped his way, to the great city white
Halted by guards during the night
Suspicious were they of the faces

Released and free he was soon
And gathering his muscles of strength and speed
Restless and carefree of any need
He sprang away, with the light of the moon

Thundering over the fields, with a pace of great power
The hours flew past, and the miles ran away
The White Towers rose, and greeted the day
Men of the guard cried Mithrandir with wonder

For seeing the horse of stature, and the Halfling he bore
Shadowfax Lord of Horses galloped the streets
Watched by curious eyes, and voices that greet
He swiftly cantered the cold stone of level fourth

Lifting his noble head, he sniffed the unfamiliar air
To the Sixth level turning, he halted with dread
And was suffered to be led away to his rest
Yet waited to face the approaching host of Mordor