Narrator: In the bleak days of the Third Age, as Røhän languished in the doldrums of a mad King ensnared by dark magic, the good and loyal men of the Røhirrim Equestrian Society-- a once-proud horde of merciless warriors, recently routed at the Fords of Isen-- strained under the yoke of their oppressive new dressage instructor.

Grima: Left column by file quarter-pirouette right onto center line-- WAIT FOR IT!!!
Eothain: (muttering) here we go again...
Grima: Aaaannnnd ONE, aaannnnnd TWO, and prance, and turn, and--
Garulf: Watch it there-- Whoah!
Grima: No, no, NO! Dash it all, do you stupid buggers not know an extended canter from a flying change of lead?!?
Eomer: Well I...
Grima: YOU again, eh?! Third Marshal of the Riddermark my sodding granny... this is the last straw Eomer, you're sacked!

Narrator: Pushed beyond the bounds of decent and reasonable victimization, the Eøred of the East-mårk take their destiny in their own hands and... mutiny!

Eomer: I'm WHAT?!
Garulf: What did Grima Wormtongue say?!
Eothain: 'e says Eomer is sacked!
Eomer: That's it lads, I've had enough of this prancing about like a flaming dandy-- who's with me?!
Røhirrim: RARRRRRRR!!!
Grima: (running like mad) The King shall hear of this!

Narrator: And so the Crimson Røhirrim Equestrians set out upon the vast tracks of grasslands called the Riddërmårk of Røhän. Adopting, adapting, and improving traditional cavalry tactics, the Crimson Røhirrim Equestrians put into motion an audacious campaign to wreak a terrible vengeance against orcs, mimes, royal advisors, and door-to-door salesmen.

Eomer: Full gallup ahead, Eothain!
Røhirrim Chorus: Giddy-up, up your horsey. Giddy-up, up your horsey.
Eothain: (singing) Gallup away!
Røhirrim Chorus: Giddy-up, up your horsey.
Hasufel: (singing) And keep in formation.
Røhirrim Chorus: Giddy-up, up your horsey.
Eothain: (singing) Gallup away!
Røhirrim Chorus: Giddy-up, up your horsey.
Hasufel: (singing) But keep in formation.
Røhirrim Chorus: Giddy-up, up...

Røhirrim: (singing)
It's fun to saddle up your war horse
And ride across the wide Riddermark,
To kill, eradicate, the foes we hate
And rub down our steeds after dark!

It can be manly riding bareback,
We'll cut you down just for a lark.
It's all very enjoyable, we're obviously incorrigible,
We're riding across the wide Riddermark!

Eothain: (singing) Gallup away!
Røhirrim: (singing) Giddy-up, up...

Narrator: And so, heartened by their initial success, the desperate and reasonably violent men of the Røhirrim Equestrian Society battled on. Hoping against hope for the redemption of their King, the salvation of their country, and to maybe someday wear fashionable cowboy hats with chaps...