Theoden: DEATH!!!
Eomer: No you idiot the forces of Mordor are the other way... (turns Theoden around)
OR
Aaa...aaa...aaa...*coughs up furball*
OR
Theoden: Come, drought-stricken, war-affected peasants! Come follow your King (who has a Hall made of pure Gold) into battle for some reason he can't remember, fulfilling oaths made many generations back by other rich Kings to other even richer Kings, against a Dark Lord we don't know or have any contact with! Oh yeah, and then ride back making songs about how great he is! And after that sacrifice your lives at a big scary Gate for a one in a million chance to not have to do this again!
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