A/N: A short story I was inspired to write after re-reading the chapter of "Helm's Deep" in The Two Towers.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Tolkien ever touched, or even laid eyes on, so I doubt I own The Lord of the Rings.
Aragorn and Éomer stood together on the Deeping Wall. The night was wearing on, and the Uruk-hai continued in their pursuit of the Hornburg. Thunder clashed after the flash of the lightening and was mixed in with the tumult of noise, with the clashes of metal and screaming and roaring of voices. It was at that moment that Aragorn turned to Éomer and said, "Do you remember the day on which I said there would be an hour when we would draw our swords together in battle?"
"Yes, though the hour has not yet come."
"Now I believe that hour has come! Let us defend the Hornburg!" With that, both men ran along the wall, running faster than any others. They called men to their aid as they ran to the battlefield. All the men that could came; they followed the white plume of Éomer's helm and the glimmer of the Elessar upon Aragorn's breast.
Two dozen they gathered in all as they charged toward the battle, twenty-three stout and valiant swordsmen of the Mark, and a fine axe-man from Erebor, though they did not notice his coming among their company.
Out they came, from a small side door on the western side of the burg-wall, coming to the violent fray of battle.
"Gúthwinë! Gúthwinë for the Mark!" Éomer cried.
"Andúril! Andúril for the Dúnedain!" shouted Aragorn.
And there Andúril and Gúthwinë, the Flame of the West and Battle-Friend, burned as white flames in the dark. Many enemies they felled, Orcs and Wildmen alike, and in lands of Gondor and the Mark, songs still tell of the valor of Aragorn and Éomer in defense of the Hornburg.
A/N: The "fine axe-man from Erebor" is, of course, Gimli, who would later save Éomer's life during the battle.
Reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!