A/N: It's been about a half-year since I wrote fanfic, just wanted to see if I still had it in me. So, honestly, let me know what you guys think, if you want to see more of this, if I should go ahead and bump up the rating, if there are any glaring mistakes I need to fix. I mixed the book and movie-verses at my convenience so be warned! Thanks for reading! Enjoy!
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Before the evening Theoden, King of Rohan, and many of his constituents fell to the darkness and mercilessness of Saruman's army, it rained all day. Into the evening, the heavens cried sheets of tears upon the battle below, mourning the bloodshed and the first step to the fall of Middle Earth as many knew warriors fought valiantly, with fervor unmatched in all the world. Few made off with their lives. Even fewer made off still free men. The White Army broke through the stronghold of Helm's Deep, The slew anyone they could get a hold of, and the rain washed away their crimes.
The huge wooden doors that stood between the women and small children of Helm's Deep and inevitable terror flew open with a deafening crack, upon a room occupied by only a handful of men and unarmed women and children. The onslaught began, and Eowyn, niece of the king, quickly shooed away the crowd, making sure they knew to run for their lives. She knew most of them wouldn't make it. In the progress of keeping her uncle's constituents safe, the Uruk-hais and orcs and goblins and all the dark things that dwelt in the night had beaten back the cushion of foot-soldiers a considerable distance. No time to run, better hide. With no weapon at her side, she found a small crawlspace, meant for draining water, and she stayed there for a long while, trying to block out the screams above her. Her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see her kinsmen and warriors die. Beside her, she heard a loud thud. Daring to unsqueeze her eyes, she saw a man's dead body. She was unsure who he was, but it hardly mattered. His eyes opened, he glanced around, gurgling from his slashed throat, a red-black sea washed beneath him. She just stared back, unable to make a sound, and looked him in the eyes as he died slowly. A flurry of feet ran deeper within the Deep. She sucked in her breath and held it there, not wanting to make even the smallest sound.
She recalled a story she heard as a child. That orcs were once elves, destroyed and remade by the Dark Lord for his twisted aspirations. Was it true? Perhaps their elfishness could have heard her breathe, heard her heart beat in her throat? She ultimately decided not to find out. When the activity was seemingly over, she listened closely to make sure those sounds of battle were coming from the outside. The blood leaking from her trampled neighbour's mangled body was soaking into her dress, she could feel it. Biting back her impending vomit, she slowly leaned forward, careful not to rustle anything around to much. She was sure if any enemy was coming, she would hear, but no sense in taking any chances. Searching the body, his belt where weapons should be, was empty save for a small dagger. It seemed as if his sword was elsewhere. She took the dagger anyway and breathed for a moment. In the madness, a few torches had gone out. She peered around the dimly lit hall, it had to be near.
Once her eyes adjusted, she found it lying just out of reach. Perhaps if stretched out a foot... Placing her hands behind her and lifting her body from the floor, she outstretched her leg, hardly being able to touch the hilt with her toe. Stretching a little farther, she managed to get a shaky hold, trying to drag it backwards to her. It slid a little, making it easier to get the next try, but amidst the dreadful peace of the hall, she heard a gruff and terrible voice singing,

"In the dead of night you will hear me cry,
I will come to the earth and you will die.
You cannot escape this terrible fate,
Your time has come and the hour is late..."

She quickly drew the sword to her and clutched the hilt with both hands. Now with a sword, she care only slightly less if anyone or anything heard her.

"In the robes and veils of grey,
In peaceful rest I cannot lay.
I come to your home to warn of death,
I walk the land but draw no breath..."

Not seeing her aggressor, she peered around the corner of her space, seeing what could have been misconstrued as an Uruk-hai, but was definitely an orc. A big orc. His nasty voice filled the room as he walked about doing what looked like looting bodies. He sang his song, and seemed unaware of Eowyn's presence. She almost sighed with relief.

"I take the form of a hooded crow,
and gaze at the carnage of battle below..."

But, wait, he was coming near to her. Too close. she tensed as he fumbled about the landscape of bodies, picking up jewelry, weapons, money, anything. He slowly picked his way over to the body near her. She mentally punched herself for not kicking the man away when she had the chance. The orc paused, took a big sniff of the air, and stayed still for a minute. Eowyn held her breath again. He knew she was there. He bent down to search the body nearest her, yet didn't look up at her. She was sure he knew she was there. But he just went on singing.

"My presence will fill a man with dread,
I wash the blood from the clothes..."

Now was when he looked up, wearing a smile Eowyn never wanted to see for the rest of her life. His expression darkened from one of murderous psychosis to one of violent lust as he spoke, "Of the dead." He lunged at her, and with a strained yell she thrust the sword at him, she went straight for the face. The sword hit ts mark and she scrunched her face up as his blood, black and smeling of rot, sprayed on her face and torso. Now was the time to get out, anything else that was in this hall now knew she was here. She bolted out of the crawlspace, and looked around. She hardly observed her surroundings before an arrow whizzed past her left ear. She ducked behind a column as another missed that had been aimed at her.
She heard the heavy patter of goblin feet running towards her stronghold of a column. In her adrenaline rush, she foresaw what was to come, and stuck the sword out to her left, clothes-lining her adversary. Looking up, she saw near the ceiling was a hole hardly large enough for her to crawl through, but surely it led somewhere, and hopefully to safety. It was too late to be brave. She knew her kinsmen were dead or captured. She could feel it. That choking sensation someone gets when something is just plain wrong. The walls were made of the mountainous stone, so surely she could climb up there. Deciding to risk it, she tucked the sword into her belt, and ran to the wall and started, fast as she could.
It took about 15 minutes to scale half the wall, and yet another arrow hit the rocks above her. Eowyn picked up the pace, but to no avail, as she kept getting bombarded until finally when she was not more than five meters from the tiny cavern, an arrow pierced her right shoulder. She cried out, and almost fell. But, no, she was determined not to die. Not today. Not like this. Press on.
And she did. Shimmying up the wall and into the hole. She couldn't see anything, but could smell no animal. Nothing left to do, she thought, but see where this leads.
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Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings does not belong to me in anyway. Neither do the lyrics. Credit goes to Tolkien and Cruachan. My only property are dumb orc extras number 1 and 2.