“Draven stood below the gate disrobing. Slowly, and piece by piece, he removed his sword, his surcoat, his mail armor, and then his padded aketon until there was nothing left but the wealth of tawny skin gleaming in the sunlight. Stark naked, he walked toward the gate. Emily bit back her tears as she understood. "You asked me for proof of his feelings, Majesty. You now have it!”

“I left her there crying as I walked toward the gate. A piece of my soul had died when Dimitri had fallen. Turning my back on her now, I felt another piece die as well. Soon there wouldn't be anything left inside me.”

“She understood his passion because she felt the same way: as if nothing was more important than the touch of her skin to his, as if she'd die if he left her.”

“And still Meriadoc the hobbit stood there blinking through his tears, and no one spoke to him, indeed none seemed to heed him. He brushed away the tears, and stooped to pick up the green shield that Eowyn had given him, and he slung it at his back. Then he looked for his sword that he had let fall; for even as he struck his blow his arm was numbed, and now he could only use his left hand.”

“He bowed at the dark, straightened, tossed his hat over his shoulder, and, carrying the muleta in his left hand and the sword in his right, walked out toward the bull.”

“How many times would I damn myself for you? Ask me that.""How many?" she said faintly, her eyes searching his face. She stopped breathing to hear his answer."Till the gates of hell close," he said flatly.”