Part II: Chapter 6, Lost in Middle-Earth

The sad army that Rohan had put together marched towards their shelter, Helm’s Deep. Some young ones had never seen a sword, much less used one. Other ancient ones that had seen many battles in the past creaked along, worrying if they’d last long enough to taste orc blood. All of them wondered about those they had left behind. Day showed them many a hill and plain. Night gave no rest. Young and old, weak and strong, they all pressed on, not knowing what they would find.

As dusk settled, Gandalf slowed Shadowfax so that she’d go back to where Legolas & Eomer trotted along, happily chatting. Seeing him coming, Orlando happily straightened, knowing this was another opportunity to use his keen elvish vision. “There is a darkness behind us.” Sir Ian said. Orli slumped. “It’s near Isengard’s river, but I can only guess that they are orcs, for there is a dark cloud conjured above it.” He smiled at the elf’s disappointed face and at the man’s confused one. The smile vanished.

“Stormcrow,” Eomer managed after awhile. “You have not the sight of the Fair People. How do you know this?”

“Er, uh…” Sir Ian said.

“I’m tired of lying.” Orlando whispered. “Can I trust you with the truth?”

Eomer grimaced & fingered his sword. “I knew you were spies when I first saw you.” He growled. Gandalf held up his hands.

“No! No! That’s not what we meant. It’s just that… I *was* gifted with elven eyes.” Eomer sheathed his blade once more.

“Oh. My deepest apologies are to you. Sorry.” He trotted further ahead.

“You needn’t slip up like that again.” Orlando muttered.

“They’re not ready for the truth.” Sir Ian shook his head.

The next day, Gandalf mysteriously told everyone that he had to leave. With that he ran to Shadowfax & hopped on. “I’ll be back.” He held the reins and looked as though he was trying to decide an important decision. Once again, he who once was gray looked up. “Go on to Helm’s Deep.” Sir McKellen sighed. The wizard spurred his mount and flew away as fast as a gusting wind.

“Ar,” John said. “Why’s he always leavin’ when we need him most?”

 “Only think of what sunrise brings.” Sean said. Only the Dwarf understood, but the others were given relief at this reverie.

 There before our friends lay an amazing structure. Nestled between mountains, was Helm’s Deep. From the Hornburg Gate to the very inner chambers, it looked to be everything they’d expected.

 “Ah…” John said. “This, my friend, is the life. I’m so near the mountains that I feel like delving.”

“Delving?” Legolas said. “Ew, disgusting business that delving is. Archery is what *you* need to learn.”

 “*I* should learn *archery?*” Gimli asked. “One word sums that up: bleh. I need sleep and nae a thing else!”

 “I doubt you’ll get anything except sleep, there will be a giant battle.”

 “Oy…” John said and pulled his eyelids down for a few brief minutes of rest.

 It had only been a quarter of an hour since their conversation when a breathless scout ran up to the unlikely pair. “We can’t stop them any longer!” He cried after regaining air. “We did everything! Now we…” He fell over. Out of his back stuck an arrow.

 "Blast it all!” Boromir shouted. “Run! Run to the wall before they breach it!” Quick as a flash, he, Orlando, & John scrambled for the nearest parapet in hopes that they were not late.

 Side by side were Aragorn & Eomer. At least, Eomer thought it was the brave ranger of the Dunedain, Strider, Elessar, Elf-glass. Viggo had never before seen so many orcs. It comforted him that he was not alone. He drew Anduril, & all that were around him paused in awe. “The Sword that was broken is reforged!” An old man said.

 “Now is not the time to glance at a blade.” Viggo’s voice had found its strength. “Let’s fight!”

 Thunder rumbled & lightning flashed. The sky lit up & the whole plain before Helm’s Deep swarmed with dark bodies, all of them squirming to fight. A volley was loosed from the bows of the intruders. Scarce was a man hit, yet none fired in return.

 Suddenly, a pounding equal to that of the drums in Moria was heard. “They've met the gate!” Eomer cried. “They’re trying to get in!”

 Eomer and Viggo raced down stair upon stair, scurrying like field mice. Men from the South had joined in alliance with Saruman. Here they were, pounding on the gate of a safe haven, as real as your own flesh. Two swords unsheathed. Once again, there was a pause of reverence to this wonderful sword. Then, Anduril swung. Every time it met its mark, there were two more targets to be vanquished.

With most of the enemy lying dead, the two heroes rushed to the gate. Its timbers and metals looked as though an Oliphaunt had tried to ram through. Eomer turned to leave, but Viggo and another figure swung into action. Countless orcs that would have killed Eomer now lay slain. “What is your secret, Aragorn?” Eomer asked.

“We will tell you later, Rider of the Mark.” John’s booming voice growled. “For now, there are orcs to slay!” He laughed fiercely and galloped off.

 “Two!” Came a cry from behind a familiar Elf. Puzzled, he turned around. There stood Gimli raising his battle axe.

 “Is that all you got? Is that all you got?” Orlando laughed. “I’ve slain twenty!” John stood stupefied.

 “Well, come then, we have to go into the back of the Deep.” The Dwarf shouted above the clamor. “Orcs have breached through!”

 Orli grabbed a few stray arrows and followed his short friend to the stables where intruders were terrorizing horses and killing guards.

 John broke away and joined an old man in destroying more Orcs that had somehow gotten into the Deep’s bosom, a small culvert. With a few others, they piled stone after stone to block the way into this thought to be safe haven.

 The Dwarf found his comrade with Viggo and Eomer on a parapet killing Orcs that had been overlooked. “Twenty-one, you silly Elf, I have twenty-one dead because of Bertha!”

 “Who’s Bertha?” Sean asked during an interlude in the fighting. John patted his axe. “Oh…”

 “Once again, that’s still not good enough.” Orlando smirked. “My blades have killed a dozen now.” John’s jaw dropped, as did his axe. Legolas shook his head. “Gosh, it’s good to be elven.”

 At that moment, a flash of light and a shaking explosion to equal that of a modern day bomb filled the night air. “They’ve burst through again!” Growled Gimli.
 “Well, we must stop them!” Viggo cried. As he hopped down from his perch, thousands of ladders flew up the wall. Eomer and Gimli held back the climbing intruders as Legolas and Aragorn flew down the stairs and towards the evil creatures that had blown through below. “I’ve killed nearly 5 more!” Legolas smiled to Aragorn. He suddenly realized that he was talking to no one in particular. “Huh?” He asked.

As the Uruk-Hai pushed in, a mighty boom filled the night air. The orcs trembled and the Gondorians cheered. Théoden rode forth boldly on his steed. The stallion tossed his golden mane in the wind. Beside him rode Aragorn, son of Arathorn. A battle cry went up. The breeze blew and sunlight flooded the fort as dawn broke.
All the monsters screamed so horridly that the grass curled beneath their evil feet. The turn of the tide had come. All the more, they fought scared as skittish squirrels. Suddenly, the battling stopped as something had the sun glint off of it. What was it? It had a white shimmer to it. “Hail forth!” Cried the Riders of Rohan.

“Mithrandir.” Sean murmured. Although he knew it was Sir Ian, the sight was amazing. The Uruk-Hai ran as scared deer as Shadowfax steered his way down the steep hills. The grass was trampled, poisoned, and torn where orc blood had spilled. A victory had been won for the people of the House of Eorlingas.

At this dramatic point, I fear we must leave you....the author said she had reached a point where she was no longer sure how she could proceed and then her "Real World' life and schooling took over her time, thus derailing attempts at completion.  We hope you enjoyed what there was of it!