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and peeps are his. I am a mere story teller trying to do some work
Summary: The King Helm leads his men in The Hornburg.
It was a sad day in Rohan. The weather was turning exceptionally cold. The snow was piling up by the foot; even more snow than normal for the mountainous regions of the county. What would become known as "The Long Winter" took place in Third Age 2758-2759 before spring would thaw their lands.
The people of Edoras and The West-fall have been trekking hard in the cold. Such a long march would not normally be the way the horse-lords would like to travel, but only some soldiers were still properly mounted on horseback. Despite the long faces and the darkening hearts the people of The Mark were still hopeful that they would hold last. Never before had their capitol fell, never before did they fear their own overthrow. Yet still, they had strength within them. For they had Kin Helm, known to many as Hammerhand.
Helm was the ninth king of the Riddermark. He was a man of great strength and stature. He truly was Royal in his bearing, and his eyes told of confidence and power. He had lost both of his sons's in the war with the Dunlandings. His closest relative was his nephew, Frealaf. Yet, the war he was fighting was of a powerful enemy, an enemy driven solely by revenge.
"Wulf, feels that he can capture us in the Deeping Valley," Helm said with anger. He continued, "But his wild beast-men will not have the power to break our fortress here in the valley. Helm had reason to be confident. Wulf was the son of Freca, a distant relation and a man thought to have Dunland blood in his veins. Freca was struck down with one blow by Helm when he tried to force him to marry off the king's daughter to his son. For it was this death that had Wulf run to Dunland and raise an army to avenge his father for the supposed "wrong" done him.
Wulf's attack had been swift and deadly. Many have already perished and all of Rohan was seemingly overrun. However, the people of the Mark would prove to be as strong as their stouthearted king. They still had soldiers and many were willing to fight. Now they came to the Deeping valley where the mighty fortress, the Hornburg, would protect them.
As the gates closed behind them, Frealaf gazed at his uncle with a look of fear and said, "Does this not mean we are to be trapped uncle?" Helm, turning with the wind blowing through his hair as if it stood by the force of his own confidence said, "The animal is driven by his own thirst for revenge upon me, behind these walls he will not be able to get to me." Helm's face turned red and he whispered, "his soul will be more besieged than we."
To be continued.
Summary: The King Helm leads his men in The Hornburg.
It was a sad day in Rohan. The weather was turning exceptionally cold. The snow was piling up by the foot; even more snow than normal for the mountainous regions of the county. What would become known as "The Long Winter" took place in Third Age 2758-2759 before spring would thaw their lands.
The people of Edoras and The West-fall have been trekking hard in the cold. Such a long march would not normally be the way the horse-lords would like to travel, but only some soldiers were still properly mounted on horseback. Despite the long faces and the darkening hearts the people of The Mark were still hopeful that they would hold last. Never before had their capitol fell, never before did they fear their own overthrow. Yet still, they had strength within them. For they had Kin Helm, known to many as Hammerhand.
Helm was the ninth king of the Riddermark. He was a man of great strength and stature. He truly was Royal in his bearing, and his eyes told of confidence and power. He had lost both of his sons's in the war with the Dunlandings. His closest relative was his nephew, Frealaf. Yet, the war he was fighting was of a powerful enemy, an enemy driven solely by revenge.
"Wulf, feels that he can capture us in the Deeping Valley," Helm said with anger. He continued, "But his wild beast-men will not have the power to break our fortress here in the valley. Helm had reason to be confident. Wulf was the son of Freca, a distant relation and a man thought to have Dunland blood in his veins. Freca was struck down with one blow by Helm when he tried to force him to marry off the king's daughter to his son. For it was this death that had Wulf run to Dunland and raise an army to avenge his father for the supposed "wrong" done him.
Wulf's attack had been swift and deadly. Many have already perished and all of Rohan was seemingly overrun. However, the people of the Mark would prove to be as strong as their stouthearted king. They still had soldiers and many were willing to fight. Now they came to the Deeping valley where the mighty fortress, the Hornburg, would protect them.
As the gates closed behind them, Frealaf gazed at his uncle with a look of fear and said, "Does this not mean we are to be trapped uncle?" Helm, turning with the wind blowing through his hair as if it stood by the force of his own confidence said, "The animal is driven by his own thirst for revenge upon me, behind these walls he will not be able to get to me." Helm's face turned red and he whispered, "his soul will be more besieged than we."
To be continued.