Isarwien watched silently, a mysterious figure cloaked in dark green velvet intricately embroidered with delicate elven designs and mounted upon a jet- black horse, high upon a hill. The great mass of Uruk-hai marched steadily in their direction, their black banners whipping about in the fierce wind. A few loose strands of her long fair hair escaped the confinements of the large hood and blew about her face as she backed her horse, Araniel, behind a large rock face, out of sight from the approaching army. "We must make haste." The elven maiden whispered gently to her steed, friend, and companion, before turning and galloping away, headed for the fortress of Helm's Deep where Théoden, King of Rohan, had led his people, seemingly to safety.