Theoden: Grimbold, how many?
Grimbold: I bring 500 from the Westfold, my lord.
Gamling: We have 300 more from Fenmarch, Theoden King.
Theoden: Where are the riders from Snowbourn?
Gamling: None have come, my lord.
Theoden: Six thousand spears. Less than half of what I'd hoped for.
Aragorn: Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor.
Theoden: More will come.
Aragorn: Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn, then we must ride.
Elrond: You ride to war, but not to victory. Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith, this you know. But in secret he sends another force which will attack from the river. A fleet of Corsairs ships sails from the south. They reach the city in two days.
Gimli: What kind of army would linger in such a place?
Legolas: One that is cursed. Long ago the men of the mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge.
Aragorn: What say you? What say you? I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me. And I will hold your oaths fulfilled. What say you?
King of the Dead: Release us.
Gimli: Bad Idea. Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead.
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