Chapter 25: Under the Storm

Thunder rolled along the ravine of Helm's Deep like a fierce battle drum, drowning out the marching sounds of the Uruk-hai host as they approached the fortress. The echoes of each new thunder rang out along the rocks, intermingling with the following thunder until it became an almost constant noise. The first swaths of rain were pouring down on the walls, the wind driving them forth.

From his vantage point at the battlements of the Eastern Wall Boromir cast a swift glance at the defenders around him. Many too young, two hastily cobbled together banners to hold the most constricted part of the walls, close to the steeper edge of the deep itself. At the far end an ancient watchtower rose at the end of the wall, but it had been in disrepair for so long that it was not really considered a part of the defense any longer. "Look at them, they are huge… how can weeven fight them?" he heard a young voice from only a step below ask.

"You can't. Alone against them you lose." Kíli's deep voice was a harsh contrast to the youthful speaker. "But together you can. Tackle them like wolves tackle a bear to pull them down, never lose sight of your comrades, protect each other, support each other and we all will make it through this night."

The words had a powerful, firm quality that left little room for doubts, and Boromir was glad Kíli was with them. He and Boromir himself were the only two battle veterans on this part of the wall, and while Anvari had the full training of a warrior beyond doubt, Boromir could tell the dwarven youth had never seen a full flung battle. Why Kíli had assigned his son to the youngest group of the banner to support them, was something Boromir could not quite tell – it put an extra responsibility on Anvari's shoulders. But then, he had seen to what amount of responsibility Durin's House was raised and Anvari might prove to be exactly what they needed to hold those youngsters together.

"More than twelve thousand." Haleth's voice was forcibly calm, strained to sound not fearful. "Four times as many as we are." The young warrior stood only a step away from Boromir. He and Raedan had to be the two half-banner leaders, and Boromir had left them little time to even think about any doubts they might have.

"That means there are four Uruk-hai out there for each of you to kill," Boromir told him, speaking loud enough that the people on the battlement could hear him. "Four, that is the only number you need to think about. Four for each of you. You can do that."

Kíli tilted his head, looking up at him. "Veterans take eight," he said with a slight smile.

Only now Boromir realized that he had been paraphrasing a speech of Dwalin, and one the famous war master had probably held more than once in his life.

A roar rose in the ravine, the Uruk-hai leader – an especially huge and muscled specimen of his kind – raised his blade high into the air and then pointed it towards the fortress. The black mass of the host began moving, like the sluggish oil on a pond at first, then faster and faster as the Uruks began their storm.

"Archers!" Boromir heard the command, had expected it come, as the archers behind the wall began to send waves of arrows against the attackers. Uruks stumbled and fell, others rushing on. Their first rank was eliminated, but it was only a drop in an ocean of foes.

The first hooks were flying upwards and the first ladders hit the Deepening Wall. Boromir saw Raedan kick loose one of the ladders, toppling it before the Uruks on it could climb up. Some other ropes ended similarly, but before long he saw the first of the attackers jump onto the battlements. Moving forward he greeted the first one with a blade in the belly, sending him tumbling down back into the ravine. More came as the fighting on the wall began, trying to hold the ladder positions for their comrades to follow, but often pushed back again.

The fighting soon became a whirlwind of blood, of stabs and slashes, kicks against foes to topple them back down and steel grating hard on blade and armor, black corpses falling, their blood smearing the walls, diluted by the rain until it was nothing but a slippery, gory grounds beneath their feet. Coming around to stab yet another attacker, Boromir saw that the utter end of the wall was in trouble. "Haleth, take ten of ours and support Farthaine; he is getting overrun!" he shouted towards his young comrade, who heard the order and acted swiftly to bolster the flailing position.

It left Boromir with fewer fighters at the core of their wall section, but they'd have to cover that. Pushing harder, he tackled the four Uruk-hai holding the point where two ladders had found hold on the wall. More were pouring up, buthe did not count the number. The fighting narrowed down to a storm of attacks and parries, of hits denting his armor and of bodies tumbling down to the gory heaps below.

He saw Kíli, who had tackled that formation from the other side, dispatching two Uruks that had gotten into his flank, before kicking one of the ladders loose again. It fell, smashing down on the teeming mass of Orcs below. A short glance across the long wall told him it was the same all along the Deepening Wall. The Uruk-hai were storming and the defenders pushing them back. A bulk of them was tackling the gate of the Deepening Wall itself, but there they encountered the toughest defenders.

A shriek in his back warned him. He came around, the blade up already to behead yet another Uruk-hai who had sprung on the wall, followed by more. A loud thunder rolled through the ravine, louder than before and then it came – like one bundle of pure white light falling from the merciless clouds the lightning struck. The pale light touchedthe wall on the west side of the deep, where the Deepening brook was guided under the fortifications, and for one moment the skies were bright as day, before the wall was ripped apart by the sheer force, the ground shaking with the anger of the elements.

The west wall had been breached.

TRB

The light had been so bright that it left colorful specks dancing before Elrohir's eyes. He had to duck to evade a stone ripped from the shaking wall and crashing down on the battlements. With the wall breached, defending the Deepening Wall had become all but impossible. "We need to block that breach – for the others to fall back," Háma shouted. The broad-shouldered Rohirrim warrior was already racing towards the gap. Elrohir couldn't agree more. The Hornburg walls were still a defensible position, even with the outer ramparts lost, but they needed to give their comrades time to fall back.

When they reached the gap, the first Uruk-hai were already pouring through. With his sword in hand Elrohir attacked those furthest into the open grounds that stretched behind the Deepening Wall and before the fortifications of the Hornburg itself. More warriors came from the broken wall, helping to bottle up the Uruk-hai in the breach, not allowing them to advance swiftly on the Hornburg walls. Soon the corpses of the fallen were piling up behind the breach, gory piles of friend and foe, lying in the way of the Uruk-hai advance.

Elrohir knew that they could not hold on forever; they were losing too many defenders of the breach, but behind them he knew the troops were falling back to the Hornburg. He beheaded another Uruk-hai, stabbed the next, but in the moment he yanked the blade free, a curved blade hit his armor. He felt the pain run through his bones, but he ignored it, like he ignored the other wounds he had received during the fighting.

He could not say how long the bloody foray at the breach lasted, how many Uruk-hai he had killed, for it did not matter. For each one he sent down in blood, two more stormed into the breach, like a flood that could not be held by any wall, or any barrier for long. Their formation finally broke on the left side of the breach. The Uruk-hai forced their way past the defenders, cutting down what still stood in their way. Helping a wounded Rohirrim back to his feet, Elrohir barked the order to retreat – they could not get to the Hornburg anymore, because the Orcs were flooding between them and the walls of the fortress itself, but they gave little attention to the far side of fortifications where the Deepening Wall connected with the hidden entrance of deep. It was not much more but a narrow passage between the wall and the rocks, leading to something Elrohir would guess was a cave or cavern of sorts.

On the retreat there he picked up another stumbling warrior, supporting him until they reached the narrow entrance. The Uruk-hai paid them little heed at the moment; their greed was focused on the Hornburg too much to pay any attention to those pushed back into the deep. Behind the narrow passage, Elrohir helped the wounded Rohirrim he had been guiding to sit down. Only now he recognized Háma, whose face was marred with blood. He was bleeding from several wounds and barely able to stand on his own. One swift look around told Elrohir that there was no true structure to those who had made it into the deep.

"Faleine, get some of those archers and set up guard at the entrance," he called out to one of the archers he had been fighting with earlier in the day. "Call out for support the moment they approach again."

"They'll soon find out where we went." Háma's voice was constrained. He coughed, his body shaking hard. He looked up to Elrohir. "The King… what happened to him?"

Elrohir squatted down beside the wounded man. The injuries were serious, but not lethal. He quickly tore his cloak into stripes to bandage the worst wounds and stem the bleeding. "Last that I saw him he was with Aragorn. He should have made it to the Hornburg in time." Around them many of them men were using the short break they had to take care of injured comrades, while a group kept watch over the narrow gap that was the entrance to the deep.

"Háma," Elrohir said softly. "Where does this passage lead? To the caves under the Hornburg?" He needed to know if they were to plan their next steps. The break they had gained would not be a long one.

"I wish it would." Háma shook his head, trying to sit up straight. He was still pale, but the short rest helped him at least a little. "No, Elrohir, this passage leads further into the deeps and to the old caves – the place where Helm Hammerhand hid his people during the long winter. There is only one other way out – a steep shaft that leads up on the mountain path. We have no way to help the fighters in the Hornburg…"

Elrohir had guessed as much. It made sense; the torn structure of the deep suggested there were several other dead ends, other thanthe one that was blocked by the Hornburg. "Then we use the time the Uruk-hai are not caring about us to get as many wounded fighters off the field as we can," he said. "Stay here, we will need your strength once they come at us again."

"What use will it be?" Háma asked, his voice rough. "Once the Hornburg falls, they will come for us and slaughter all those we might yet get off the field."

"We capitulate after we are dead," Elrohir said firmly, getting back to his feet. The forays to help more stragglers to reach the deep would also tell him what he needed to know about the situation of the Hornburg. Maybe they could flank the Uruk-hai, or draw some of their numbers off. He'd have to find out.

TRB

The walls of the Hornburg were running red with blood. The stairs that led from the Deep up to the very rock of the Hornburg, to the mighty gates were a field of corpses. Uruk-hai and Men were both lying still were they had fallen, dark blots on the bloody stairs. Aragorn felt Anduril's anger reverberating under his very hands as he fought at the bottom of the stairs, cutting through the Uruk-hai rushing up and towards them. Theodred and Falcwine stood with him, keeping the path open for the last stragglers retreating back to the Hornburg.

Theodred stumbled under a brutal hit and Falcwine swiftly intercepted the next attack, pushing the Uruk-hai back. "All those who'll make it are here," he snapped towards Aragorn. "We need to retreat." They had held the stairs for others to make it back to the Rock, as the main Hornburg was called. Many had rushed past them to whatever safety the steep stone might offer.

"No." Theodred had gotten back to his feet, both hands at his blade. Even though he was tired and exhausted he fought on. "The East Wall is still out there – so are Háma and the men from the breach."

"They won't come. Háma fell back to the Deep and the East Wall is cut off from us already." Falcwine's words came in short bouts between hits and parries.

The words sent a cold shiver down Aragorn's spine. The East Wall – he had feared they'd lose that wall first, but it had stood strong throughout the nightly battle. Boromir, Kíli, Anvari… they all were trapped out there with the Uruk-hai closing in from all sides, along with only whatever might be left of their untrained young troops. He knew he could not waste time worrying for them – not with their own situation here critical enough. He'd have to trust them to find their own way out of this.

More Uruk-hai came rushing towards the stairs. There was little doubt that no more stragglers would make it back to them. "Theodred – get back there." His words came out harsh, sharply, but he heard them. Together they retreated up the stairs towards the rear gate, and a troop swiftly headed out to support them.

The Uruk-hai stopped, their ranks parting for smaller figures with bent bows – Dunlendings! A swathing of arrows was fired up at them. Aragorn ducked, feeling two arrows knocking rings loose in his chainmail. Theodred stumbled; two arrows had pierced his leg and side. Before Aragorn could react, two fighters from the troop that had come from the gate sprinted forward to assist him. He recognized Éowyn and one of her girls. Éowyn covered them, while her comrade assisted Theodred to reach the gate.

More arrows came, the Dunlendings firing them in rapid succession. Aragorn was the last to retreat through the gate. With a loud crash the stone closed behind him.

"Get him to the healers, quickly," he heard Éowyn's firm voice say. "And clear the door space, bring the wounded into the caves. Brithonin, get some more men to barricade the sides of the gauntlet. Who is in charge of the archers?"

"Wyn is dead and so is Eothaine," a younger warrior reported. "I took over when Elrohir was separated from us. But why – we have hardly use of archers in here?"

Éowyn took off her helmet, a gesture less for her comfort, but for ease of conversation. "Ravin, is it?" she asked. When she saw his confirming nod, she pointed to the wide hall stretching behind the gate. "Look at his hall, Ravin. The men are already walling it off with whatever we have, to give us some cover once they breach the gate. And they will breach it. Once they do, this hall will be our killing ground. Have every archer you have get fresh arrows from the armory and climb whatever ledges they can find above the hall. The others will be with us behind the barricades. We will bottle them up in this gauntlet for as long as we can."

"How bad is Theodred?" Aragorn asked softly as he joined her. Éowyn too was injured, favoring her left leg when she walked, but she did not show any weakness in front of the men.

"If they can get that arrow out of him before it grazes his lung and if he survives without infection, he will make it," Éowyn told him. "But he is out of the fight for the moment."

Aragorn looked around. The Rohirrim were swift in using broken beams, heavy stones and whatever other materials they had to barricade a zone around the hall, creating a true gauntlet. "It is a good plan," he said to Éowyn. "But it is only one to buy time."

The blond woman turned to him, her eyes shining in a fierce light. "Theodred sent Éomer and Ingvar to the Westfold and Aldburg before we left Edoras, and while many think they are lost to us, I still believe they are on their way here with all the troops they could find, and we need to hold out until they can reach us."

There was wisdom in her words, Aragorn had to admit. He silently hoped that Gandalf, wherever he had gone, might also find hope for them. Until then, all they could do was fight.

TRB

Boromir saw the gates of the Hornburg close long before they could reach them. Their retreat had been hampered by the Uruk-hai troops overcoming the gate of the Deepening Wall, cutting them off from the stairs towards the Hornburg. Between the fallen Deepening Wall and the Hornburg lay nothing but a field full of Orcs and in their backs was nothing else. The East Wall was a dead end, with no way out. His eyes found the watchtower at the very end of the East Wall. The Uruks had yet to pay any attention to it. They were too greedy in their rush to get to the Hornburg itself. "Fall back to the tower!" He knew the order confused their banner, but they followed nevertheless. Anvari and his group were the first to turn against the Uruk-hai on that segment on the wall, carving a path towards the tower.

It was a gory path; they had to force their way past the storming Uruk-hai. Under their feet already piled the bodies of the battle, and more were rushing towards them. Side by side Boromir and Kíli were the blades that carved the first gap into their ranks, opening a path for the others to follow. When they reached the entrance of the crumbling tower, Boromir and Kíli turned against the Uruk-hai, allowing their comrades to get inside and man the old watchtower. They were the last to retreat inside. With the narrow entrance to the Tower itself, the Uruk-hai had a much harder time to reach them and many rushed by, to join their comrades storming the Hornburg.

His breath still raggedfrom the hard fighting, Boromir looked around, taking stock of their situation. More than one banner of their fighters was still standing, the wounded had been brought into the farthest corners of the tower and there was no gap, be it door or window that was not manned by a fighter group. He felt a surge of pride at these young fighters. They might be thrown into the worst battle of their lives, but they did well – they kept their heads and never lost sight of their comrades. They'd make a superior force once this was all over.

"More are coming." Kíli had peered out of one of the archer's shards. "The dawn does nothing to slow them down."

"They had to overcome that particular weakness sooner or later," Boromir replied grimly, taking his place with Kíli at the gate again. They'd hold them off, make them waste time on a secondary target, so the Hornburg could scramble a counterattack. He hoped it would come soon.

The fighting began anew, with Uruks storming against the gate of the Tower, some scaling the walls to reach the wider windows, but each of them was manned, and soon screeching Uruk-hai fell from above, while Boromir and Kíli fought in the narrow frame of the gate. In the tight space it would have been hard for two fighters to stand and defend, but with them it worked like they were one man. Each strike, each attack falling in perfect coordination, Kíli toppled an opponent, and Boromir killed him. Another got into Boromir's flank, but Kíli got him before his strike could land. It was a rush of blood, of rage and of a fierce energy that carried them through the first wave and the next and the one after. By the time the sun was up, the Uruk-hai were stumbling over their own corpses when they approached the watchtower.

The grey spring clouds parted and the rain finally ceased. The rays of the sunlight did nothing to stop the Orcs, but then they suddenly stilled. From behind them, from the very entrance of the deep a horn rang out – not the deep horns of Rohan, nor the loud horns of the Orcs, but one silvery sound echoing from the walls of the deep, ringing out like a clarion calling for the attack. "Elves!" Kíli panted, a fierce grin shining on his face.

Pushing forward Boromir gained a foothold outside the tower's entrance, where he could see the field beyond the wall. He hardly believed his eyes – another army was out there. Some were Menfolk – Rohirrim, maybe the troops from Westfold and Aldburg they had been waiting for – but an even greater number were elves, their advance almost noiseless across the Deep. Their ranks parted; one attack group pointed at the breach, the other at the broken gate of the Deepening Wall. They were attacking the Uruk-hai's back!

"Haleth, bring all fighters down to the wall!" Boromir called out. They could support the new storm best by pushing the Orcs as hard as possible. "It is time to clear the Eastern Wall!"

The sudden turn from the defensive to the offensive again, was asking all that was left in their banner, but all of them, even the injured followed into the storm as they pushed out onto the wall. The Uruk-hai suddenly found themselves trapped between the assault on the Deepening Wall and the attack from above – for the gates of the Hornburg opened and the defenders brought their own attack down the gory stairs. Their foray was so powerful that they pushed the Uruk-hai back towards the outer walls of the Hornburg. And from the western side, from the Deep itself, all those who had retreated there joined the fray again. The Uruk-hai were trapped.

It was the hardest part of the battle, though Boromir was hardly surprised about that – trapped and encircled the Uruk-hai fought with the fervor and anger of caged animals, and while some of the Dunlendings tried to flee, most of them stood and fought as well, driven by their hate against the Rohirrim.

But the troops swarming over the Deepening Wall were fresh and they were strong fighters. The fighters from the Westfold fought with the grim hate of people having already lost too much to the Enemy, and the Elves cut through the ranks of the Uruk-hai with a speed and force that left Boromir with little doubts how the battles of the Last Alliance must have been. He did not waste time on wondering, but pushed forward. The tide was finally turning.

TRB

The sun stood high above the Hornburg when it was over. Under the light of the noonday sun the bloody field between the walls was revealed to its fullest, with the piles of corpses darkening the ground, where it was not deeply stained with the black blood of the Uruk-hai. Boromir was relieved to see Aragorn alive. He had led the foray from the Hornburg, pushing the Orcs back towards the elven advance, and while he was slightly limping, he had sustained no serious injuries.

"Boromir!" Aragorn's mien broke into an equally relieved smile. "It is good to see you alive. I feared for you when the East Wall was cut off."

"We held the tower until help arrived," Boromir said, his eyes surveying the gathering troops. He could see Éomer with the men of Westfold, but his gaze swiftly went back to where the elven fighters were gathering. "Though I am wondering who came to our aid."

Aragorn's eyes pointed to their left and Boromir saw Kíli and Anvari approaching two of the elves. He had noticed the red-headed elven warrior before… He had also seen him in battle, though that had been in another lifetime. "The Lord of the Dragon Forge," Boromir said softly, a few memories of another battle vividly waking within him.

"There is an old saying amongst my people in the North," Aragorn said softly. "That old enmities and old friendships prove themselves strongest in the darkest of hours."

Author's note

This chapter comes again with big hugs and thanks to the wonderful LadyDunla who put lots of work into this chapter. Thanks, my friend, you rock! *hugs* Don't forget to check out her profile, as she is writing nice stories as well!