Chapter 380: Darkness Like a Tide
On the walls of the Hornburg, soldiers stood in orderly ranks, gazing toward the wide mouth of the northern valley.
If all went as expected, the enemy would come from that direction.
Night had deepened.
"The old folk, women, and children of Westfold are all within Helm's Deep. They have been sent into the Glittering Caves for shelter."
Atop the highest point of the wall, Théodred reported to Théoden.
"Our food stores are ample. The Free City-States have aided the region greatly in recent years. Supplies are the least of our worries. We can hold here for a long time—a very long time."
"We will hold."
Théoden gripped his sword, his voice steady and strong.
"The enemy is no small thing, but our warriors are elite."
This time, neither the old nor the young were forced onto the walls or given arms.
"They are no small thing indeed."
Gimli, who had fought Uruk-hai and felt their strength, said half in jest, "Many of them are barely more than striplings, but clearly their strength outmatches any lads of that age."
Thump.
Aragorn clapped his shoulder then, signaling silence.
He lifted his head and looked beyond the wall.
"They are coming."
By now, not only Aragorn and Gimli stood on the wall, but Legolas and Boromir as well. They all waited, awaiting the onset of war.
Time crawled.
In the distant valley, scattered firelights flickered. The great host of Dunlendings and Uruk-hai advanced in silence, pouring into the Deep.
Those scattered lights came from torches held in their hands.
Boom!
Lightning flashed. A heavy rumble followed, casting a shadow over every heart.
"I have seen this sight many times."
Boromir remained the calmest.
"I have ridden often between Osgiliath and Cair Andros. Those places know no peace, always under assault."
"Spare us your family's troubles."
Gimli looked up. "The foes we face now are no weaker than yours, and…"
"Did you hear that familiar sound?"
They all raised their heads.
A black shape circled in the sky above, mounted on a fell beast.
A Nazgûl.
Boromir glanced down at Gimli. "I know this one well too."
"What sort of lives do you lead?"
Gimli suddenly understood the man a little.
No wonder he had craved the Ring so. With it, many deadly problems would solve themselves.
Like the Nazgûl.
The One Ring ruled them all.
If the One Ring were here, worn by someone, the Nazgûl would kneel at once, bound utterly by its power.
Even if their true master remained Sauron, their service would be unwilling obedience, forced by that deadly weapon.
"Roar!!"
After a brief wait that felt endlessly long, the host at last reached the foot of the wall.
The two sides faced off.
Uruk-hai and Dunlendings bellowed at the tops of their lungs, pounding weapons on the ground to build momentum and press the defenders.
Yet the garrison on the wall only watched in silence, unmoved.
Their king and marshal stood among them on the front line, leading by example, staring down coldly and marking the enemy's weaknesses.
"Neck and armpit. Those are the gaps in their armor."
Legolas spotted the weak points first.
"I know your eyes are sharp. Can you tell me what is happening out there? I cannot see."
Gimli, helmet barely peeking over the parapet, grew impatient.
"Shall I lift you up?" Boromir offered once more.
"Say that again, and I will take offense."
Legolas chimed in. "Shall I find a box for you to stand on?"
Gimli laughed.
Out of sheer frustration with the pair.
Thunder rolled, clouds boiling along the horizon to their ears. Rain poured down without warning anyone.
War had begun.
"A volley!" Théoden commanded. Beside him, Théodred bellowed at once.
"Loose!!"
Whoosh.
The archers, long prepared, unleashed a rain of arrows. The four companions, save Gimli, fired with them, while Gimli could only watch in frustration.
Yet volley after volley, and then free shooting, failed to halt the enemy. Their numbers were too vast, filling the entire Deep without end.
Countless black shapes writhed below the wall. Each lightning flash revealed only snarling faces.
The open ground before the wall now brimmed with foes, no space left. They cast long grapples and raised ladders to scale the height, but the defenders were no easy prey. They struck back with every means.
Soon corpses piled like mountains at the wall's base.
Thump!
At the wall's edge, Gimli leaped and cleaved an Uruk-hai who thought he had found a gap.
"Did not expect a Dwarf here, did you!"
"Turn! Defend the gate!"
A shout rang from the wall's height. The four fighters turned and saw a force advancing along the slope toward the gate.
Defenders loosed boulders and arrows, beating back wave after wave.
Shriek.
The Nazgûl swooped low, assailing the guards above the gate. The fell beast's cry, paired with lightning, sowed terror. For a moment, the men cowered, unwilling to fight back.
"Take heart!!"
At the crisis, their marshal, Théoden's son Théodred, stepped forward. Sword in hand, he roared.
That voice rallied them. Hearts lifted, they gritted their teeth, stood, and struck back, hope kindling within.
But the delay cost them. In that brief span, the enemy reached the gate.
Whoosh.
Arrows drove the Nazgûl back aloft.
At the same time, before the gate, burly Dunlendings hefted a massive tree trunk and rammed forward. Uruk-hai raised broad black shields against flanking and overhead blows.
The Hornburg's gate was wood after all. Cracks soon showed, on the verge of breaking.
In the dire moment, Aragorn, Boromir, and Théodred exchanged a glance.
"Warriors, with me!"
They gathered a squad and leaped down a side path along the slope, smashing into a mass of foes.
The Dunlendings ramming the gate startled and dropped their trunk, wheeling about to fight. Uruk-hai turned their shields to defend.
But who stood against them?
An elite squad, led by Aragorn, Boromir, and Théodred.
The three drew blades as one. The Uruk-hai shield wall shattered. Some were slashed aside, others hacked down, tumbling along the slope.
Brute force, pure and simple. Miracles through might.
Another assault repelled, but at a heavy cost to their side.
"The gate is damaged. We must fall back."
"Withdraw!"
The group retreated in haste.
Someone, however, wished them ill.
The Nazgûl dove again on its beast. Théodred, last in line, seemed moments from those claws when Aragorn bellowed, "Legolas!!"
An arrow flew true, burying in the fell beast. It roared and veered away.
Wounded, but not gravely. It could still fly.
"Pity."
Legolas murmured regret.
The angle had kept him from the wings.