Author's note: This story begins seemingly outside of the LotR universe. Don't worry: the slash I promised will come in soon! However, it is necessary for me to write this intro because it plays into the epic story that I am writing. Get ready, it's gonna be a wild ride.
A Congress of Entities
PROLOGUE
Deep in the churning eldritch void of Un-Space, a sprawling black Thing swam through the murky deep. Unkown, unbeholden, it stretched out its malodorous black appendages, annihilating galaxies by its mere presence. It turned to and fro, gliding across the undulating sheets of space-time like a manta ray in an ocean of iridescent pitch, and ever and anon it would cry out in a deep, booming voice that echoed through the worlds:
"Sauron...."
In its core was an Eye which matched the Eye of Barad-Dur: matched, and exceeded in greatness and terror. For this was an Eye which not only searched the deep places of Middle-Earth and hunted wretched heroes as they fled across their desolate homelands: it was an Eye which peered through worlds, through space, and through that ethereal space-between-space which makes up the reality of Thought, of Time, of Energy, and of the soul. It flitted back and forth, casting its gaze over unfortunate worlds which found themselves troubled by wars and famine only because the Eye had passed over them. Such was the manifestation of horror, darkness, and unrelenting hatred that the mere manifestation of its black power caused untold destruction all throughout the worlds.
All of the sudden, without warning, there was a deep rumbling in the Stygian currents of the deep; a great vibration; a great thundering of malevolence and ill-will. It reverberated throughout the entire body of the Thing, emanating from the Eye and spreading like a foul pestilential miasma throughout charnel vistas of Eternity. It was laughter. Deep and sinister laughter. It cast a supernatural darkness all across the worlds, but the subject of this laughter was one denizen of one world. Indeed, such was the malice, such was the absolute unrelenting sadism of the Thing that it was capable of focusing all of its hatred, all of its evil, all of its everlasting loathing upon one creature.
That creature was a dwarf.
The Thing ceased to laugh and spread its dark tentacles all about itself in a ghastly halo of unrepentant Satanic glee. Its dark work was begun.
*********************
Far away from the center of the worlds, a battle was raging.
There was clash and clash of ringing steel, and stamp and thud of tramping feet. Saruman's fighting Uruk-Hai had descended upon the Hornburg, and Helm's Deep was consumed as if by a swarm of angry black ants, ceaselessly throwing their enraged bodies against the battlements of the Rohirrim.
On top of the wall, Gimli son of Gloin was fighting. He swung his axe and caught an Orc by the helmet. There was a loud clang and the Orc shrieked and gurgled as it hurtled through the air, over the parapet and down the walls. Gimli grinned and looked over his shoulder.
"Thirteen!" he cried.
Legolas, who stood a few yards behind him, let fly an arrow and pierced the throat of a charging goblin.
"Fourteen!" he replied, flashing Gimli an arrogant grin.
The dwarf stopped in his tracks and looked at the elf for a moment. Legolas was wearing light green hose which accentuated the graceful curves of his muscled calves. The hose clung tightly to his body and ran up his sumptuous legs to the best part of him, which Gimli eyed with some degree of envy.
The dwarf's thoughts were interrupted by a snarling Orc which leaped over the parapet. Gimli shook his head and decapitated the thing. Now was not the time to be distracted by slender Elf-boys and besides, he knew who Legolas really belonged to.
Meanwhile, down on the ground, Aragorn strode down the length of the wall.
"Make ready your swords!" he called to the defenders. Many of them were slouching and their feet seemed heavy.
"The archers are in need of arrows! Do not let them go without!" he cried. His posture was strong and confident, and his well-muscled brawny shoulders were held proudly upright, but the fire in his eyes was missing. His mind was somewhere else.
Aragorn paused for a moment, thinking back to his slender lover on the ramparts. The thought of that pale back, those long flaxen locks, those gleaming blue eyes – it drove him mad. The eyes, especially. Like stolen gems set in a delicate elven face, they were eyes you could drown in. Aragorn shook his head. Now was not the time to be distracted by licentious rumination. Now was the time to wage war. Aragorn raised his sword, pointing to the ramparts.
"Up there!" he shouted, "Up there is where the battle is!"
But even as he said this, he could feel a heated stirring deep in his body. As soon as the tide of the battle ebbed, he would have his lover again.
Out of nowhere, a hard and heavy pounding came battering the tight doors of the Hornburg.
"No!" cried Aragorn, turning to the door. He cast about frantically.
"Eomer!" he roared, "Bring your men here! We must repel these intruders!"
Eomer, for his part, had been resting against the inner wall of the fortress. He was weary, but his weariness was not the only thing on his mind. The Elf was on his mind, and in his mind he wished to be on the Elf. He was tormented by the thoughts of that lovely creature, light on his feet, his golden mane waving in the wind. Eomer would have liked nothing more than to catch the Elf alone. He did not want much – indeed, one did not need much to be satisfied by such an exquisite creature – merely a short carousal in the woods, if ever he could catch Legolas alone. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by Aragorn's call.
"Oh, Aragorn!" he cried in response, heaving and breathing heavily as he mounted his horse. He drew his sword and pointed it toward the gate.
"To the gate!" he cried, "To the gate! Rally to the gate, men, foul deeds are afoot!"
His men responded immediately, and soon, they swarmed about the gate of the Hornburg. Eomer signaled to the man in the gatehouse to fling wide the gate, and without hesitation, he and his men charged.
Aragorn and Eomer rode out eagerly, each one panting with excitement at the combat which was to come. Their sortie drove forcefully into the Orcish forces, grinding against the front line with the loud sounds of blades against armor. Eomer slashed left, then right, parried repeatedly, and thrusted over and over and over again, gutting Orcs all about him. Soon, a pile of Orc corpses surrounded his horse and Aragorn's, and they rode together forward into the ranks of goblins. Within minutes the Orcish lines broke and the enemy fled.
"We are victorious!" cried Aragorn, holding his blood-stained sword high in the air.
The sortie road back into the Hornburg.
However, the night was far from over. The Orcs began to raise great siege-ladders against the walls of Helm's Deep.
Aragorn knew what was happening as soon as he heard the clacking sounds of the ladders fastening themselves against the walls of the fortress. If he did not act soon, the Orcs would quickly achieve full and deep penetration into the Hornburg.
"To the parapets!" he cried. He bolted up the stairs, followed by hundreds of tired but still fearless defenders.
Once on top of the wall, he paused. There, standing gracefully in the tumult of the night, was his obsession.
"Legolas!" He yelled, running towards him.
"Aragorn!" replied Legolas, leaping over an Orc's corpse and rushing to his friend.
"Legolas," wheezed Aragorn, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Don't get hurt out here."
The Elf grinned.
"You should know better than to say that. I've been fighting battles longer than you've been alive."
Aragorn returned his friend's smile.
"I know. But for my sake..."
And that was the end of their elopement. For immediately they were both overtaken by a wave of Orcs crashing over the top of the wall. Legolas leapt backwards behind the lines and perched on the wall, firing arrows with deadly accuracy. Aragorn charged forward, cutting deep into the line of Orcs in furious protection not just of the fortress, but also of his blessed charge who stood firing arrows behind him. The battle raged on.
However, far below the walls, a sneak attack was taking place. A small culvert which lead out of the Hornburg remained vulnerable to penetration, and the Orcs took shameless advantage of this vulnerability. Soon, they were pouring into the hole, the men of Rohan found themselves being rudely assaulted from the back end.
There was a loud roar as the Rohirrim found the strength to fight back against the Orcs who were violating their sacred ground. The forces of Men droved against the Orcish assault in bloody vengeance, pounding into them repeatedly and slowly but surely driving them back out through the hole they came in.
"We will not stand for this!" cried a surrounded captain of Rohan as he hacked and slashed at the goblins surrounding him. Soon, he was joined by reinforcements. The Orcs found themselves getting slammed harshly against the stone wall. More Rohirrim poured out of the caves, well-rested and ready to reinforce their comrades. There was no mercy. The men of the West, though out-numbered, were well-versed in the ways of battle and many among them were heroes of great renown, and each of these great heroes was worth many Orcs. Hack, slash, stab, thrust, they were grinding and pushing into the Orcish lines in a manner not seen since the wars of the First Age. Soon, they beat off the Orcs.
As the last of the Orcs was forced out through the hole through which they entered, Gimli came bounding down the steps – as well as a dwarf could bound.
"Alright, men!" he cried, his gruff Dwarven voice easily audible over the din, "We're going to close this gap! We Dwarves know how to stuff a hole, and there will be no gaps for these Orcs to enter again!"
Under his direction, the men began to move earth in buckets, slowly filling the gap. Soon, it seemed impassible, with only a tiny gap left for the slow trickle of water so that the Hornburg would not flood.
"Now – back to the parapet!" cried Gimli.
The battle raged on.
An hour later, a dastardly plot was hatched among the foul hordes of the Orcs. They sent a small Orc to crawl into the hole left by Gimli's ingenious earth-working. In the hands of the Orc was a charge – a 'blasting fire' creating by Saruman. Soon, the gap would be open all of the way.
Far above, all had become quiet. Gimli roamed up and down the wall, looking for any sign of suspicious activity. Aragorn had retired to a dark corner with Legolas. And Eomer had taken a walk to the far end of the wall to be alone for a few minutes.
Suddenly, a deafening noise was heard. The heroes leapt to their feet.
"The wall!" wailed Gimli, turning and running down the stairs, "The wall has been breached!"
Legolas, Aragorn, the rest of the forces and soon Eomer followed him down the stairs. Far off, a loud voice could be heard.
"Into the keep!" it cried hysterically, "Into the keep!"
Deep in the Glittering Caves, the human forces waited nervously. Everyone milled around, waiting for the inevitable. Gimli paced back and forth, muttering to himself.
"Damn that wizard," he growled, "When is he going to get here? He may be too late..."
Suddenly, a wave of dread washed over him. He was suddenly aware of a Presence – a hostile Presence, an evil Eye like Sauron's, but different. It bore its way into his mind, and he struggled against its will. There was a sudden stabbing sensation in his heart, and a fire in his vitals.
"Oh, gods..." he whispered, sinking to his knees.
Meanwhile, Legolas and Aragorn had found a corner of the caves where they could be alone. Aragorn sat with his back propped up against the cave wall; Legolas lay with his head reclining on the man's shoulder.
"Aragorn." he said.
"Legolas?"
"Do you think... That Gandalf will get here soon?"
Aragorn smiled and stroked the Elf's hair.
"I'm certain he will. In all my years of knowing him, I have never known him to fail. A wizard is never early or late. He arrives exactly when he intends to."
They both laughed.
"Well," said Legolas, smiling innocently, "If this is our last night together in Middle Earth, there's one thing I'd like to do before we part."
Aragorn knew what his friend wanted. With one hand, he raised the Elf's chin. He leaned forward to plant a kiss on his mouth, when suddenly the sound of a horn could be heard. Aragon sat bolt upright.
"That... That's the horn of King Helm!" he said. "Gandalf has arrived!"