Immediately, though everything else remained as before, dim
and dark, the shapes became terribly clear. He was able to
see beneath their black wrappings. There were five tall
figures: two standing on the lip of the dell, three advancing.
In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes; under
their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs
were helms of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of
steel. Their eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they
rushed towards him. Desperate, he drew his own sword, and
it seemed to him that it flickered red, as if it was a
firebrand. Two of the figures halted. The third was taller
than the others: his hair was long and gleaming and on his
helm was a crown. In one hand he held a long sword, and in
the other a knife; both the knife and the hand that held it
glowed with a pale light. He sprang forward and bore down
on Frodo.
[ The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien ]