This is the disclaimer. I do not own anything from Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and J K Rowling, this writing is purely for pleasure and I get no money out of this whatsoever, now that is out of the way on with the story!

Chapter 25

A stream of gold flowed hissing and spitting into the moulds, its shimmering brightness a stark contrast to the black iron and steel that flickered menacingly in the guttural torch light deep in the bowels of Orthanc. Eventually the flow ceased and in the dim light the form of hundreds of plain gold bands began to take shape. Saruman took a deep breath, ignoring the pain that the movement brought him and began to sing softly, his voice rising and falling in cadence as his power twisted out, twining around the metal and imbuing it with his power and malice.

They were not to the standard of the one ring, and did not even hold a fraction of the power of the seven or the nine, no compared to them these rings were mere trifles for Saruman neither had the time nor the skill of Sauron or the elven smiths of old but he had collected many of the old books of lore that the elves had refused to use and from those he had wrest his knowledge. These rings would have been considered poor examples of the craft, mere practice rings and poor ones at that but what Saruman lacked in finesse he could make up in pure power, and the rings would serve his purposes admirably.

They had no need to subjugate a strong mind, for all his creatures had long since been bent to his will, even the men under his command, but what his rings were designed to do was to control a weak mind. They would bind the wielder to Saruman's own will, slipping past already weakened defences to anchor his power deep in their minds and they would allow him to channel his magic through them, to attack at the walls of the Deep from the safety of Orthanc.

Lastly the rings would pull the wielder into the shadow world, making their wielders a pale imitation of the Nazgul, for Saruman did not have the skill to make his creations so strong, but thy would be wraiths nevertheless, creatures that were far harder to kill than even his Uruk-hai, and that could kill with impunity, for he lacked neither weaponry or armour, and throughout the night his creatures had been creating the armaments, ready for his new soldiers.

Eventually the chanting ceased, and though a fire burnt fiercely in Saruman's chest a satisfied smirk grew on his face as his eyes swept over the hundreds of rings before him. Where they had once glinted bright burnished gold, the bands now flickered with a deep malevolent red that constantly writhed and twisted through the metal, tendrils reaching out to capture and ensnare. He could feel the deep thrumming beat of malice and twisted madness that each ring excluded, and his smile mirrored those emotions as with a sharp gesture the rings were pulled free from their moulds and fell gracefully in a clinking cascade into a velvet bag.

His treasures thus secured and safely in his keeping Saruman bent over, gasping sharply. Their forging had required a truly vast amount of magic and his limbs trembled as he began the arduous trek back to his throne room. However despite his pain he couldn't prevent the triumph that surged through him even as his mind pondered which of his servants to bestow his gift upon. With the power of just under four hundred wraiths, each of whom he could channel his power through with the power and form of the wraith making them fearsome warriors, the men of Rohan would be unable to withstand his onslaught and he would watch gleefully as the first kingdom of Men burnt and bowed before his might.

A ragged cheer went up as Helm's Deep came in sight. The whole column had been on tenterhooks ever since the attack at Flanrod Ridge and the last few hours of the march had been spent in increasingly tense silence and it had taken all of the Fellowship, Eowyn and several of the captains to prevent the nervousness spilling over into full blown panic when even the approach of a scout was enough to send waves of worried muttering along the column.

Now with their sanctuary within sight, no more than an hour away and no sight of Uruk-hai in the vicinity the relief coming off the column was almost palpable as everyone, even the battle hardened warriors, let go of some of the tension that had characterised the last day. However for most of the warriors it was almost impossible to relax properly. They were all aware of what was coming, that coming to the Deep had been a gamble that would see Rohan destroyed if it did not succeed and they felt that responsibility keenly. It was now going to be a waiting game.

It did not get any easier waiting for a battle Aragorn reflected, particularly one where the fate of a nation rested on his ability to hold the Deep. As they grew closer to the fortress his eyes were probing the structure, looking for weaknesses and areas he could exploit for the defence as he considered and discarded plans. He had been to the Deep before when he served under King Thengel but it had been many years ago and his memory had not provided the details that were key to providing a good strategy for a defence that would fully utilise all the advantages that the fortress had to offer.

Helm's Deep was a strong fortress and even from this distance Aragorn was able to pick out several features that would aid him in the defence. The tower of the Hornburg would be ideal for relaying signals across the whole battlefield, and the Keep itself would give the archers easy coverage of the battlefield from above. However, recalling the small size of the Keep itself and the strength of the doors within it he thought it would be best if they laid enough materials and traps throughout the keep that they could easily barricade later doors and that if the Keep was breached they could use the tight quarters to their advantage.

He considered ideas for a short while longer before he allowed his thoughts to turn away from the upcoming battle. There was only so much planning possible from a distance and he had reached the point where he required more in depth information that he would only be able to gain inside the fortress. Glancing over at the Gondorian he could see that Boromir had also been evaluating the Deep and had also come to a similar conclusion as he turned towards Legolas and struck up a conversation, though Aragorn noticed that he was carefully avoiding any and all mentions of the upcoming battle.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Elion shift in the saddle in front of him, one hand coming up to grasp the edge of his cloak. Elion had been quiet for the last several hours ride, the sombre and tense mood of the column combined with the residual weariness from the previous night prompting the child to fall into a restless slumber. Aragorn smiled gently down as a quiet yawn confirmed that his child had woken and the smile only grew when Elion's eyes promptly widened as he caught sight of Helm's Deep.

For several long moments Elion just sat there staring, his eyes scanning every inch of the fortress with wonder in his eyes. It reminded Aragorn of the first time he had been to the Hornburg – it may not possess the grace or the beauty of the elven cities, or the soaring towers and gleaming walls of Minas Tirith, or the sheer scale and brutal splendour of the dwarven mines but nestled at the foot of the mountains, the plains spreading out from its base Helm's Deep possessed a stark beauty in the age and endurance of the stone walls and the mountainside that rose to tower above it.

However as he watched Aragorn saw some of the wonder fade from his child's eyes as the residual tension in the atmosphere began to impinge and he could see the realisation begin to grow in Elion's face, accompanied by the war weary traces of apprehension and sorrow that all experienced warriors faced in the run up to a battle.

"It was originally built to guard the Fords of Isen," Aragorn started to explain quietly as he attempted to distract Elion, to remove the shadows that lurked in his eyes, that no child should have and as he continued to speak about the history of the fortress he could see the shadow in Elion's eyes start to retreat as the story and his child's natural curiosity reared their head, distracting him from the anticipation and dread of the upcoming battle that Aragorn had spotted lurking in his eyes.

Soon the conversation had grown into a lively discussion which had grown to include the whole group, each with their own particular spin on tales, or little details and amendments that others had missed. As the discussion progressed Elion steadily lost his shyness and his questions became bolder and Aragorn was glad to see the animation in his child's face, and seeing the simple curiosity and wonder was enough to lift his own mood and push some of his own tension away.

He turned his attention back to the discussion just in time to hear Elion direct a question at him, bright green eyes fixed on his and his interest and curiosity causing the words to tumble over each other in his haste to get them out. Supressing a fond chuckle, Aragorn patiently answered him before reaching out to ruffle his child's ebony hair. He was unable to keep the second chuckle contained when Elion directed a betrayed gaze up at him, before pointedly turning and asking Legolas a question, though the motion was rather ruined when the child burrowed deeper into his hold.

Aragorn smiled when Elion tugged lightly on his sleeve, trying to gain his attention for another question and the ranger was happy to indulge the curiosity, pleased to see the liveliness for the child had been rather subdued that morning and it relieved him to see that Elion seemed to have overcome the fear and pain that had marked him the previous night.

The conversation had raised everyone's spirits, distracting their minds, if only briefly from the impending battle however all too soon they reached the causeway and begun the trek into the fortress. From necessity the conversation faded away as the realities of the upcoming fight began to assert themselves once again, but before Aragorn could begin to consider plans once again Elion twisted round to look up at him. "Thank you Ada," he murmured, gratitude shinning in his eyes.

"You're welcome little one."

Galadriel recoiled, her composure shattered and in Rivendell Elrond stiffened, his poise deserting him. The elves had been caught unaware by the forging of the one ring – a mistake that had proved far too costly and they refused to be misled in such a way again. They had attempted to hide all knowledge of such forging but they had no way of knowing how many books detailed the art, and what information others had so they had kept watch, listening for their creation.

For eons the whispers had been quiet, the familiar sound of the rings they had known about, the melody only losing complexity each time one was destroyed but at that instant the whispers had suddenly grown into a roar as a cacophony of voices joined the melody for the first time. The sound of their forging quickly diminished but Galadriel could clearly hear the new theme in the symphony. Though each individual strain was weak, weak enough to be almost inaudible but together the hundreds of voices wove into a seamless whole, a haunting, though pale counterpoint to the malevolent tune of the One.

They had not been forged by Sauron that much Galadriel knew. She knew well the taint that his works possessed, the Great Eye always hovered, watchful and she could feel his presence burning as he sought to enter her mind and bend Nenya's power to his own will and she was able to perceive his thoughts and the taints that pervaded them. The new melody contained but mere traces of this taint and the overwhelming taint was a power that to her sorrow she knew all too well.

For a brief moment she closed her eyes, allowing herself a short period to mourn for both the comrade who had been twisted so far to the darkness that he had crossed the boundary to delve deep into forbidden techniques and could not ever now be redeemed and secondly, and more deeply, for the friend she knew in her heart to have fallen. Gandalf would have not allowed such a depravity to occur whilst he still had strength to prevent it, and her mirror had shown his journey to Isengard.

Once the moment was passed she opened her eyes once more. She would mourn properly for the two new names that had been carved on her heart - two more on a list that already carried far too many and that was imbued with a grief that spanned eons - when the threat was not so near, when the future did not stand so precariously on a knife edge. Saruman's actions had tipped the balance, but hope was still teetering on the brink, if they acted quickly, and correctly there might still be a chance. A slim one, but a chance nevertheless and she had always know that this entire venture was based on a slim hope.

Casting her thought out towards Rivendell her mind met Elrond's. Both knew full well the urgency of this conference. Events were moving fast, too fast for not only was Sauron moving, it would be no more than a few months, if not mere weeks before his assault fell hard on the kingdom of Gondor, but Saruman's full strength was now focussed on Rohan, and it was a strength that included rings.

Lothlorien and Rivendell were sanctuaries that had so far been exempt from the full strength of the Enemy's attacks, but the elves had been leaving these shores and a large portion of their forces had been engaged in repelling the attacks, which though were not at full strength, were still able to cause damage and Mirkwood had been fighting its own battles against the Enemy, for Sauron's taint was strong in the fortress he had occupied as the Necromancer and had poisoned. They did not have the numbers of Rohan or Gondor but they would not leave Men to fight the battles that their own folly had caused.

They could not offer aid to Rohan, they would not make it in time, though there was a small group that Galadriel had already sent to join their captain that would make it through in time, but they would, and could deal with Saruman once and for all. He did not have the strength to subdue both Galadriel and Elrond, each wielding one of the three against him.

The elves were going to war, and they would show Saruman exactly why they had been feared.

A cruel smirk wreathed Saruman's face as he watched the sea of black creatures begin their inexorable march towards Helm's Deep. The Uruk-hai marched in tight formation, black steel glinting sharply in the torchlight, and around them, four hundred figures circled lightly. His rings had worked exactly as he had intended and Saruman could feel the hundreds of threads that connected him to each of his puppets.

While each wraith had limited autonomy, they were able to fight and had the ability to read and analyse a battle, with no more than a twitch of his mind Saruman could rob them of all will, twist them to his will and channel his power through them, using them to cast his own magic at the fortress. Furthermore through overriding their will he could instantly gain information of the battlefield, and that was an ability that would provide an almost unbeatable edge, for information was the most precious thing for any general and it would allowed him to rapidly respond to any surprise defence he encountered.

A twisted excitement grew in his eyes. The wraiths were his greatest creation, and he knew that he would only continue to gain in skill and knowledge, for the first forging had given him a far deeper understanding of the craft than reading the old scrolls and books could give him. Already he knew that there were relatively simple steps that would have allowed him to work greater power into the forging and that his wraiths, despite their current effectiveness were so very limited.

But the power the rings, and the knowledge of their forging gave him was immense. Once he regained his strength and full control of his hands, the cursed tremble and the pains in his chest had still yet to leave him, he would be able to experiment with his new knowledge, create rings that would serve all manner of purposes. For he could see now that the One was limited in its own way, despite its power, its will and ability for dominion.

The One was a terrifying weapon, and Saruman knew that it possessed a form of sentience, for it was just as capable of betrayal and cruelty as its master, however to his mind it lacked subtlety and it was a liability. A single ring, no matter how sentient or how easily it could twist a mind, or a people was still vulnerable, should it be lost or destroyed all Sauron's power would be lost with it and to Saruman's mind that was a gamble.

He knew just how close the One had come to destruction, and if it had not been for the weakness of Isildur it would have been destroyed eons ago. He was not a fool, he would not let all his power be tied up in a single object regardless of the power it contained. Instead his agile mind was already spinning through possibilities, all the different sorts of rings he could make, some that conferred power, others that could be presented as gifts that would twist minds and allow him to control without taking full possession, and more importantly no single ring would be the keystone, there would be no single weakness to exploit.

As Saruman continued to plot, his mind searching through possibilities as he considered his plans and how best to exploit the behaviours and weaknesses of his enemies his army marched onwards. A thick river of black flesh, steel and leather, marching one in an unstoppable tide and at its side four hundred sentinels moved silently, their long pale cloaks, and wickedly hooked, almost white armour echoing their appearance in the shadow realm. Their appearance jarred against the masses of teeming, putrid flesh but did nothing to detract from the aura of malevolence that covered them as fully as their cloaks as they continued their implacable advance to Helm's Deep.

Helm's Deep was a hive of activity. Nobody knew when Saruman would strike, only that it was certain that he would have to if he wanted to subjugate Rohan, but they would not let him catch them unaware and to that end Aragorn and Boromir had quickly set about making the fortress even more costly and deadly to a besieging force, for they fully intended to become as prepared as possible in whatever time Saruman gave them.

To that end the people had already begun the process of moving into the caves, taking with them everything they needed to make a safe camp as well as all their belongings whilst a small group had been sent to explore the passageway that led into the mountains, to ascertain whether there would be an escape route if the battle went ill. Another group of riders had been going through the people and bringing all the men and boys old enough to wield a blade to the armoury to provide them with a weapon before they were sent to the grounds behind the Deeping Wall to practice with or be taught to properly use their blade.

It was something Aragorn had been adamant about. He would not involve the people in the battle unless he had no other option, and with a thousand riders it should not come to that however he knew full well the unpredictability of battle and he knew he might have to call on the people. If that occurred he wanted them to have every advantage possible, and whilst most would already know the basic skills of wielding a blade, the practice now, perhaps gaining an extra trick from a more experienced rider could be the difference between life and death.

However that was not all that had occurred. Whilst the ordinary people of Rohan were developing their skills with weaponry a number of the riders, with the Fellowship's aid had set about trapping every inch of Helm's Deep, reinforcing the gates and a second group of riders, aided by a large number of women, had been digging a ditch a couple of meters out from the base of the Deeping Wall.

The ditch was of significant size, being nearly a meter and a half deep and between two and three meters wide and already water from the Deeping stream was turning the bottom and sides of the ditch into a sticky, clinging mud. It had been very carefully placed so as to cause maximum disruption to the oncoming forces. Firstly it had been placed at almost the exact point where the bases of ladders would ideally be placed and secondly the spoil heap from the excavation was being piled up against the walls, creating an extension of the slope and making the ground at the base a lot more unstable.

Aragorn knew it would not stop the enemy from using ladders, rather it would slow them down and making the ladders themselves more unstable as they couldn't get as stable purchase, and it would thus make it easier for them to push the ladders from the walls. The ditch would also slow the Uruk-hai advance, and provide the defenders with a killing field in the earlier stages of the battle.

Delay was the purpose of most of the new tricks and defences Aragorn was implementing. Their strategy relied on pushing Saruman's forces up against the Deeping wall, and holding them there whilst the secondary force proceeded to savage their rear and trap the Uruk-hai between the two forces. Therefore he needed to make it as difficult as possible for the Uruk-hai to disengage without incurring heavy losses, and to do so in such a way that gave the least risk to his men.

But whilst Aragorn had been overseeing the construction of more physical defences and traps, including the ditch and the reinforcement of the gate Boromir had turned his attention to weaponry. They did not have a huge number of resources in the Deep, neither the time nor materials to make any defensive large scale weaponry such as ballistas or mangonels but that did not mean that there weren't small items they could use.

To that end Boromir had scoured the fortress to assemble the ingredients for the pitch that he had frequently used in sieges. It was most effective when fired from a catapult, however small jars, or rags soaked in this liquid could be set alight and fired at the enemy, or buckets of burning liquid could be poured on those attacking the gate and Boromir knew from long experience that the fires sparked by this oil were almost impossible to douse with water.

Small volumes of the pitch would be spread along the Deeping Wall, to be used on the ladders and Uruk-hai in the early stages of the battle, for fire was a weapon that would not discriminate against those it targeted, and once Uruk-hai ascended the walls it would be as much a danger to the defenders as it was to Uruk-hai. No, the pitch would predominantly be kept in the Keep itself, but that would not lessen its effectiveness for it would prove a valuable defence for the gate.

As the day progressed the defences sprung up with surprising speed and by early evening the frantic pace had slowed somewhat, and with all the key features of the defence safely in place most people had retreated inside the fortress to rest and eat and the Fellowship had joined them. They had yet to receive word from Eomer that he had intercepted an attacking force and Aragorn knew that a meal and a rest would help everyone and whilst there were certainly more things which would improve the defences, they had made good progress.

For the majority of the day Eowyn, the Captains of Rohan, the hobbits and Elion had helped the with the defences, though they had mainly been directing various groups of Riders and civilians under either Aragorn or Boromir's direction or running messages and errands in the case of Elion and the hobbits. Surprisingly it had only really been Legolas and Elion who had made suggestions for other traps that could be employed, for Gimli had been in charge of the construction of defences and living quarters within the cave. Aragorn had been a little taken aback by the keen mind for traps that Elion had shown, but as several of the ideas had been useful they had quickly been incorporated into the defences.

Now as they continued to eat Eowyn caught Aragorn's eye. "I have to confess I am surprised by your actions today Lord Aragorn, Lord Boromir" she said quietly, "And I thank you for the lessons you have given Rohan today."

Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement as Eowyn continued. "It would not have occurred to either my brother or I to trap and create defences as you have done but I can see how they will help defend this fortress and for that you have my gratitude."

"It is seldom you get the opportunity to prepare a battlefield as thoroughly as this," Aragorn replied, "But do not thank us yet, save them for when the battle is won."

Silence fell for a few brief moments before a loud clatter shattered any semblance of quiet. All eyes quickly turned towards the source of the disturbance, and Aragorn hid a smile as he saw Elion attempt to shrink down below the table and become invisible, his cheeks glowing red in embarrassment. Carefully keeping his smile concealed, Aragorn reached over and moved the platter of meats the boy had been attempting to lift closer to his child, grey eyes crinkling in amusement at the half apologetic, half sheepish look Elion directed up at him, accompanied by a murmured thanks and apology. Others however were not as circumspect, and the sombre air in the room was completely broken by Gimli's low chuckles which only deepened when Elion shot a betrayed look in his direction before attempting once more to melt into the furniture.

Aragorn reached out and laid a comforting hand on Elion's shoulder and felt his child lean into the touch as Gimli's chuckles subsided and the attention of the table was drawn towards the hobbits as they took the moment of levity as an excuse to delve into some of their light-hearted tales of mishaps and misadventures back in the shire. Soon most of the tension in the room had abated, those present mostly being seasoned warriors who knew the value of savouring the moments of levity in the waiting period before a battle. Aragorn however kept his hand on Elion's shoulder until he felt Elion relax once more and he directed a gentle smile down at his child as emerald eyes peeked up, now with most traces of mortification gone.

The rest of the meal went smoothly and Aragorn was glad to see Elion slowly re-join the conversation as his earlier embarrassment faded, though he was unsurprised to see the child yawning as the meal progressed. Elion had certainly worked very hard that day, whilst unable to join in with the heavier labour he had made himself useful running errands, making suggestions and helping to make some of the devices that were within his capabilities.

A slight frown touched Aragorn's face as he considered it more closely. Elion had a tendency to try to push himself beyond his capabilities, and his heart ached as he remembered the sadness in his child's voice as he struggled with guilt and the knowledge that not everyone could be saved, and then a sudden sharper pain as he recalled the fear in Elion's eyes the previous night. Casting back through his memory Aragorn realised that Elion had helped them all day, not stopping until he did for the first time at supper. His frown deepened as he recalled that both the hobbits as well as Gimli and Legolas had taken short breaks to refresh themselves, with only himself and Boromir being needed continually. Now as he cast a practiced eye over Elion he noticed the small hitches in the boy's movement that indicated his child had pushed himself to the edge of his limits and he berated himself for not noticing anything sooner.

Elion began to get impatient as the meal drew to a close. They had done a lot today but there were still ideas bouncing around his mind which he was continually playing with and improving. During the war he had discovered he had quite the talent at trap making – and when he had worked alongside the Weasley Twins and Luna they had made some truly frightening things to throw at the Death Eaters - particularly when they had been preparing for the last stand at Hogwarts. He noticed he was gripping his knife far too tightly and dragged his thoughts away from the past.

He didn't like Helm's Deep. He didn't like preparing for battle. There were far too many memories. It may have been a different castle, and the traps and defences were different but it felt the same and he recognised the quiet mixture of fear and hope on the faces of the people and the determination that it created in their tasks. He had been glad that everyone had been so busy and that there was so much he could do for his Ada. It had kept him from thinking too much, had helped to keep the memories at bay as they slipped in between the ideas. But during the meal they had begun to return again, conversation and stories not enough to push the memories back and he felt relief well up as he saw Aragorn finish.

"What are we doing next Ada?" he asked quietly, struggling to keep the impatience and eagerness from his voice. He didn't care that he was tired, he just wanted to do something so he didn't have to think and remember. A gentle hand reached out and smoothed down his hair, "Sleeping tithen pen," Aragorn replied, "There is nothing more to do today."

At his words Elion's eyes widened and he started to tremble slightly. He didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to dream. The nightmares had gradually been abating, their bite muted by time and his Ada's presence but he knew that tonight the memories that had been circling would pounce in their terrible, agonising glory. He didn't know why he was so afraid. After all, he'd been having nightmares for months and whilst they had been abating, new or very old fears had easily produced food for more, he knew nightmares, he expected them. But that didn't stop the fear, he had been fighting his memories all day, and he was tired and afraid and he didn't want to dream.

"Ù Ada, ù ada. Avon lothao." Elion was agitated enough that he didn't realise he had slipped into Sindarin, but Aragorn noticed and Elion found himself being pulled into a gentle embrace as Aragorn gently hushed him, holding him tenderly until his tremors subsided. Only then did he softly question "And why don't you want to sleep little one?"

Elion's answer was quiet, scarcely louder than a breath but Aragorn heard him nevertheless, and lifted Elion as he stood, his child tenderly cradled in his arms. "You're safe tithen pen," he murmured as he walked, the motion calming Elion, "And I will be here through the dreams."

AN: Well it's been a year? Sorry? I can't promise that it won't be another year until I update, but hopefully it won't be. I'm humbled to see that despite my erratic updates there is still interest in this story. Thanks to all who have stuck with this from the beginning and welcome to those who have just found it again. I hope you've enjoyed it.