Author's Note: All right, in The Two Towers, the upcoming scene takes four hundred and thirty words. Just 430 little words. And every single time I read it (and I've gone over it and over it) I just sit there going "HUH?" I hate to say it, but it is the one part of LOTR that I just haven't quite managed to wrap my mind around. Therefore, this chapter is a challenge, not only to describe it to you the readers, but for me to understand it myself. Please let me know if it makes sense to you when you read it. I'd hate to leave my readers going "HUH?" It's such an uncomfortable feeling. ;-p Onward!

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Nimoë forced herself to keep her eyes open as Arod leapt forth from the Hornburg. Legolas rode with innate skill and she trusted in him implicitly. He would not let her fall as long as she kept her grip tight around him. His bowstring sang as he pelted the enemy around them with arrows. Nimoë kept her head ducked down behind his shoulder, and tilted to the left so that she would not impede his hands from grabbing arrows from his quiver.

Deeply burnished light filtered down into the coomb and Nimoë watched as the steep stone walls blurred past, the fissures and rents running through them thrown into sharp relief by the deep shadows. Legolas' voice ripped back through the air and reached her ears. "We have taken them by surprise. They are running before us. I do not think they will retreat past the Dike, however, so there we will make our stand. Can you continue to hold on?"

Nimoë shouted as loudly as she could, so that she would be heard over the screams of the enemy and the pounding rumble of the horses' hooves. "I bend all of my strength to it. I shall not fall."

The wind whipping past pulled mercilessly at her braid, and she felt it begin to unravel. Long hours ago the cord binding it had vanished, and it was undoubtedly lying on the ground behind Helm's Gate. Perversely, she found that the rush of air, swirling her hair in a pale cloud, ignited a swell of exhilaration within her. Legolas' golden tresses whipped about as if they had their own life and long strands stung her skin like sharp rain. She welcomed the slight pain, for it reminded her that she was still alive, and she leaned her head back to allow the breeze fuller access to her face.

Nimoë closed her eyes to better feel the kiss of the wind against her cheeks and took a deep, cleansing breath deep inside herself. The scents of the forest wafted through her, rife with sharp cedar, steady oak and pungent pine, and she rejoiced in the familiar odors.

Abruptly her eyes flew open. Forest? What forest? All that was near to the Deep was verdant, rolling grassland, and even that would most likely be nothing but a smoldering blanket over the hard packed earth.

"Legolas!" she cried out, "Something is amiss!"

"What is it, Nimoë?"

She stared out from under his upraised bow arm, but could see nothing around the curve of the coomb. "Can you not smell it? Either there is a forest nearby or my mind is well and truly gone."

All of Legolas' thought had been trained upon the orcs which ran ahead of them and cutting them down to their deaths. He most certainly had not been paying any attention to his nose. Now that he thought about it, though, he realized that Nimoë was right. Something was most definitely amiss.

The curve of the coomb was rapidly coming upon them and with powerful strides the steeds of Rohan came round it, into full sight of the Dike and the land beyond. What faced them there brought them to a standstill. The eyes of the men were wide with wonder, for where once there had been only the endless sweep of the plains of Rohan, there stood now a great forest.

The trees were tall and strong, rooted deep into the earth as if they had stood there for countless millennia. Yet somehow they managed to exude a deep sense of long-simmering rage and the shadows beneath them were darker than those formed by the usual play of sunlight on the leaves.

The army of Saruman cowered in front of their tents, their eyes swinging wildly from the fearsome riders, who stood poised on the far side of the Dike, to the mysterious and forbidding forest. They knew not whether to flee or hurl themselves upon the approaching army.

Then, into the momentary silence, came the sound of hoof beats approaching over the rise of a hill which formed the eastern wall of the entrance to Helm's Deep. There appeared then what seemed to be a miraculous vision: a man clad in white, his long snowy hair and beard seeming as one with the shining brilliance of the white horse upon which he rode. The sun rising behind him lent an aura of luminous splendor to his raiment and all on the floor of the chasm could not but stare at him in awe.

Nimoë almost wept with joy when from behind the rider there appeared a full army of men, walking tall and proud, their golden hair blown freely in the breeze, swords drawn and shining in the dawn light. "We are saved!" she whispered, in astounded delight. "We are saved!"

Aragorn's thunderous voice broke the silence. "Mithrandir!" he cried, using Gandalf's Elven name, "Behold! The White Rider has come and brought with him the army of Erkenbrand!"

On the heels of Aragorn's proclamation, Shadowfax leapt forward, plunging down the side of the hill at such a pace that had he been any lesser horse he would have fallen. Gandalf brandished Glamdring in front of him and at the sight of his fearless charge, Theoden cried. "Attack!"

Nimoë felt Arod tense beneath her, then launch himself forward along with the rest of the mighty steeds of Rohan. Using all of her power to remain seated, Nimoë watched the battle unfold around her. It was truly short-lived. Faced with the wrath of the horse-lords, their numbers newly augmented by the arrival of the forces of Erkenbrand, and the unnerving presence of the strange forest, the orcs and wild men of Saruman scattered, unable to regain their previous assumption of victory.

Those who came against the mounted men found themselves cut down to the last orc, and Nimoë shuddered at the sight of mangled bodies littering the ground, being trampled under hoof. Many ran, though the only pathway available to them was through the eerie trees, and the screams which echoed forth from under their branches spoke to what took place within.

Within a matter of but a quarter of an hour, all creatures of evil had been swept from Helm's Deep, and with triumphant cries the men of Rohan greeted Gandalf and the army of Erkenbrand. Up from within the Deep came the sound of horses and running feet, and those who had been holed up in the caves came forward into the daylight to join in the celebration of their emancipation.

Legolas reached his hand out to Nimoë and supported her weight as she slid down off Arod's back, then he leapt down after her. Swept up in the exhilaration of being alive, when everything had seemed deathly bleak, he lifted her up against his chest and spun her round and round, sharing in her breathless laughter as her feet flew out in a broad circle of joy.

He set her down again and both were dizzy with the marvel of life, so they leaned in against each other to keep themselves standing, and brought their broadly smiling faces together for a kiss of celebration. The sounds of excitement swirled around them, but they were not aware of them as they melted into each other.

"Hrmph! No need to ask what you've been doing while I've been busy hewing orc necks!" came a gruff voice beside them.

"Gimli!" they cried in unison. Then Legolas reached out to grasp his shoulder. "You are alive, my friend! Truly this is a day full of wonders."

Nimoë bent down to wrap the Dwarf in a welcoming hug, but he fended her off with flailing arms. "Off! Get off! I don't know what you have done to my friend here, but I'll not have you doing it to me. No one hugs a Dwarf!" Through his protests though, she could see that his cheeks flushed, and he was truly pleased to find them alive and well.

Legolas wrapped an arm around Nimoë and beckoned to Gimli with his free hand. "Come. Let us find Mithrandir. If ever I have been more happy to see a friend unlooked for than I am to see him, I cannot remember that day."

The three companions set out then across the field, littered with the bodies of the enemy, to find Gandalf. Each was thankful to be alive, and they took joy in being together again, strong and hale, albeit exhausted, and ready to continue the fight against the shadow, for this battle had only been the beginning.

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Author's Note: Confusing? Comprehensible? Let me know if that made any sense whatsoever Thanks!