Rohan, your lands call to me. Your rolling hills dotted with rock brings to mind a wild beauty with amazing strength that is embedded in your people. The freshness that blows in your wind clears the mind and braces the spirit. The majesty of your mountains surrounds and protects your people. To see your horses roam the land freely overwhelms and inspires me. Looking upon your great Golden Hall of Edoras, Meduseld, shining in the evening sun rivals the most glorious of sights in Middle-earth. Your people revere and love you, long will they protect you from all threats around.
- Silivren Ithildin
A silly drabble for Rohan day
Aragorn watched the two children as they sat, weeping at the bare table in the great hall.
"Do not weep, little ones." Aragorn said. "I know what it is to loose a mother, but you are strong. You are children of Rohan, and you will live to see these days renewed."
At this, young Eothain raised his head from the table.
"We do not weep because of that!" he said, indignantly, "Everyone knows that she's not really dead."
"Then why do you cry?" asked Aragorn, confused.
"Because, you idiot," Eothain explained, "We are forced to eat the Lady Eowyn's stew!!"
- Evermind
Do not weep, horselords. Your lands are ravaged, your crops are ruined and the crows pick at the remains that lay silent in your blackened sheepfolds. Your families have known great losses, of fathers, of mothers, of even the children who once ran as straightlimbed and strong as the horses of your pride. But do not weep. Take up your banners dry-eyed, and sharpen your blade. Saddle your horses and ride! Ride with your people, ride to death and glory; fulfill your oath to lord and to land, revenge the wrongs that were wreaked upon your people. Ride forth Eorlingas!
- Primula
