Disclaimer: I don't own anything in LotR so please don't sue me! Even if you did, you wouldn't get much money out of me.
How can we win the oncoming battle? Legolas was right. How can three hundred possibly keep ten thousand at bay? Helm's Deep is cold tonight and for once I can't do anything about it. Usually, I'm the one everyone looks to in order to set things right.
At least, that's how my kinsmen see me. But I must remember that the Rohirrim, a people used to living without a savior, surrounds me. Sitting here, I watch boys and old men scurrying to and fro, readying themselves for their ends, though unseen they may be. I know these thoughts are bitter, yet I cannot drive them out of my mind.
And the weariness that I feel doesn't help matters. After falling off the cliff, I have had no real rest, just a few moments of shut-eye here and there. Reminded of rest that I can't have now, I put my face in my filthy hands and let out a drowsy sigh. But I cannot escape into this brief reverie for the thought of the approaching Uruk-hai army distracts me.
Raising my head once more, I begin to hear a hushed conversation between a boy and a man to my left, next to a sharpening stone.
"Here," says the man, "sharpen this sword. Maybe it will last you the first hour or two."
The boy looks at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I've seen these creatures before and they don't take kindly to being rebelled against."
"But you survived! That says something, does it not?"
The man sighs. "I only barely survived. Westu hal." With that, the boy is left alone, hopeless.
I never could stand to see children in distress, whether for discipline or not. It wrenches my heart to see this boy so afraid and with no way to comfort himself. Not able to stop myself, I call out to him.
"Give me your sword." He turns around, surprised, probably, that someone would actually take some interest in him. He obeys and tries to hide his discomfort, though my eyes can see his pain. "What is your name?"
"Haleth, son of Hama, my lord." I can hear his voice much clearer now and realize it is breaking. This boy can be no older than fourteen! "The men are saying that we will not live out the night. They say that it is hopeless."
My eyes can also see the shape of his weapon, which is almost defective. I can't tell this boy that his weapon is useless against those of the Uruks, so instead I look it over and spin it around a few times, all the while gaining my hope and energy back. I hand the sword back to him and say, "This is a good sword, Haleth, son of Hama." I see his face light up in amazement and grasp his shoulder, like a father would a son. "There is always hope."
Haleth gives me a weak smile and walks away to his post. I straighten up and look around with new sight. Yes, Estel. There is always Hope and it comes in the form of a Ranger of the North.