Battle of Helm's Deep and spiritual hunt, part 1

While not knowing how many Uruk-hai that Saruman would send out from Isengard, Arianne and the rest of the Dornish nobles were in agreement that they needed to reduce the number of enemies before they got closer to Helm's Deep.

"The fewer of those creatures to attack Helm's Deep and other important places in Rohan, the better," Arianne ordered to the various heads of the noble families of Dorne, knowing that a move like this could turn the future battle into favor for Rohan and Dorne against Saruman. After all, even if the Uruk-hai was made into adult form already from the start and could be trained for battle quickly thanks to that, the traitor Wizard would exhaust his own resources if he was forced to produce new ones faster than expected.

"As you wish, Princess!"

This was not the time for old grudges, they needed to act united against a very dangerous enemy once again and defend their homeland together.

So by sending out riders though smaller portals across Rohan, the Dornish warriors took the Uruk-hai army by surprise from behind, attacking the very rear of it where they could use arrows and catapults on a safe distance.

"Trick them into following us into a chase through the portals! Let them have a taste of the Dornish desert heat and the sun cooking them alive inside that iron armour of theirs! And learn why our homeland was resisting the Targaryens for so long!"

Lord Vorian Dayne led the defense line hidden in the Red Mountains around Starfall, and the soldiers of his House were not the only ones there, the people inside the castle were giving them aid by the use of siege weapons from the towers. The same weapons that once had been used against the Targaryen dragons, a legacy from the Rhoynar, and once again coming to use against a common enemy.

"For Dorne! For House Martell!"

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Thanks to that Rohan had realized that Saruman had attacked its King and most likely had Isengard join Mordor, many Rohirrim warriors were already at Helm's Deep by the orders of Queen Elia, in order to help defend their homeland when the riders from Edoras arrived late in the evening with the setting sun of March 3th. One comfort was that the civilians from the villages around had already escaped up in the mountains, or towards Dunharrow with whatever they could bring along. Thanks to the portal in Sunspear, Oberyn and a good number of Dornish warriors had also arrived quickly to help with the last preparations for battle that could be fixed.

"Direct news from my niece; The remaining soldiers in Dorne have managed to bring down 2 000 Uruk-hai over those two days by attacking the army from Isengard by attacks on the rear, and there is a expected 1 000 still out in the desert where the sands and lack of water together with the daily heat will kill them."

Théoden nodded, it may still be somewhere between 6 500 and 7 000 Uruk-hai on the way to Helm's Deep, but the odds were now slightly more even for the defenders.

"Prince Oberyn, what are your suggestions for a strategy against the enemy when they come here, likely at nightfall?" Théoden wondered as he and his long-traveled guests wandered around on the wall to see how things were going. The younger brother to the Queen of Rohan looked up from the catapult he had been checking over, and two of his own men were setting in place.

"We will keep the wildfire as a last resort, to surprise the enemy if they manage to break through the lines and we need to quickly lessen their numbers. That flammable liquid is dangerous, and it is not without reason that it is often likened to actual dragonfire."

Legolas and Gimli were, understandably, curious about the wildfire that Oberyn mentioned as a last resort, but they also looked a little unsettled at the mention of it possibly being like dragonfire. Especially as the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor had been taken over by a dragon for nearly 200 years and Legolas could remember the story of his father Thranduil almost getting burned by a dragon during the War of Wrath against Morgoth at the end of the First Age.

"Good idea to keep that as a surprise for the enemy. The less Saruman expects us to use, the better."

Among them, both Dornishmen and Rohirrim were strengthening the wall and other parts of the Hornburg to the best of their ability with what little time they had left before the enemy arrived.

"Cousin Arash, what can you sense from the earth?" Oberyn wondered, his oldest natural-born cousin being seated just outside the gate in a meditation pose, but with his sword laid across his knees.

"The same feeling as I have gotten from whatever I am around a Dornish keep that was burned by the Targaryen dragons. The loss of life, despair from deep within the earth. As if Mother Nature herself is crying and vowing revenge in some manner I can not yet explain."

Since the ancient magic of House Martell had awoken once again, Arash had found himself with the ability to feel a connection to the nature around him. but despite his best attempts so far, he could still not manipulate earth and rock in all their various forms into actually moving in the direction as he desired. Pushing them by first touching the natural material in the desired direction did go fairly well, but he wished to actually be able to levitate nearby pieces of earth and stone of numerous sizes and propel them at foes with punching or kicking motions.

"Just get back into the keep before the enemy arrives and your old man should not have to worry yet about you joining him in the afterlife, cousin."

The Deeping Wall was twenty feet high, and so thick that four men could walk abreast along the top, sheltered by a parapet over which only a tall man could look. Here and there were clefts in the stone through which men could shoot with bow and arrows. This battlement could be reached by a stair running down from a door in the outer court of the Hornburg; three flights of steps led also up on to the wall from the Deep behind; but in front it was smooth, and the great stones of it were set with such skill that no foothold could be found at their joints, and at the top they hung over like a sea-delved cliff.

"Great work, this legacy from Gondor inherited by Rohan."

Gimli stood leaning against the breastwork upon the wall, while Legolas sat above on the parapet, fingering his bow, and peering out into the gloom in order to give a warning of the enemy coming closer thanks to his far better Elven sight.

"This is more to my liking," said the dwarf, stamping on the stones below his feet, "Ever my heart rises as we draw near the mountains. There is good rock here. This country has tough bones. I felt them in my feet as we came up from the dike. Give me a year and a hundred of my kin and I would make this a place that armies would break upon like water."

"I do not doubt it," Legolas smiled faintly, grateful for something else to think of for a moment, "But you are a dwarf, and dwarves are strange folk. I do not like this place, and I shall like it no more by the light of day. But you comfort me, Gimli, and I am glad to have you standing here with your stout legs and your hard axe. I wish there were more of your kin among us. But even more would I give for a hundred good archers of Mirkwood. We shall need them. The Rohirrim and the people of Queen Elia have good bowmen after their fashion, but there are too few here, too few."

"It is dark for archery," Gimli muttered, shooting a dark glare at the distant torches "Indeed it is time for sleep. Sleep! I feel the need for it, as never I thought any dwarf could. Riding is tiring work. Yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of orc-necks and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!"

As they talked, Boromir joined them. He too desired to help in the fight, because he refused to let the arrow wounds from Amon Hen stop him from doing something else than just sitting around.

"If we win this battle, I will travel to Minas Tirith as soon as I can. I have already been gone for many months and my people need me as the new Steward now that my father is gone."

The others had learned the details about Denethor dying on the way here, and understood how Boromir wanted to be where he was most needed. But with the armies of Isengard around, there had been a risk of Boromir being sighted by enemies if he rode towards the border of Gondor and not even the portals had been a safe choice at the moment.

"Here they come," Legolas commented, breaking the silence and it did not take long before the mortal men could spot the touches coming closer.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Even if she was only there in spirit form, Rhaenys knew at once why her mother Elia had loathed Dragonstone and the time she had been there as the wife of Rhaegar. The presence of House Targaryen and their view of themselves was visible everywhere in the castle, and the still active volcano did not thing to brighten things up. An attempt to glorify themselves when there was no one who could prove otherwise, to create a false social status as far away as possible from their actual background as a family of low-class servants in the Valyrian Freehold.

"Like ancestors, like descendants, I guess. If anything, Tar-Minyatur passed down delusions of grandeur to his own bloodline…"

Ugh. And this was a family that actually was descendants to her own past-life father as well? A disgrace that he better never learn about, that was what House Targaryen was for Khamûl.

"That damn portal...Morgan, what can you say about it?" she asked her past-life son, who looked up at the portal.

"The same sort of feeling I always get when you or your descendants open a portal to Rohan, Mother. That it is dependent on a living person acting as the key to open it. I can not really tell how it was done with this one, but the portal is draining the life and magic from the person who opened it. A rather young one, around the age of your brother, and clearly not trained in how to use this kind of magic. And yet...this unknown person seems to hold a grudge strong enough to do this."

Draining both life and magic? With how long the portal had been open, Rhaenys could imagine the worst outcome for that person if this kept up. If Sauron was using this to strengthen himself…

"Even more reason to close this unwanted portal between the worlds. I do not know how Sauron got his hands on a person with magic to make this, but it is something I will need to check later. For now...there are some overgrown Targaryen brats that need to be beaten up as punishment for what they ended up causing by their selfish actions."

Rhaenys knew that she needed to hurry. The sooner that Rhaella was free from the ghosts of her former life before her incoming rebirth in a new body, the better.

It did not take her long to find the ghost of Aerys II, because he kept muttering in the mad ways that had led to his eventual death. Besides, his appearance was hard to miss.

"Kill them all...kill them all….you!" he snarled at spotting Rhaenys, who used her well-known similar looks as Elia as bait, "Traitorous whore! Dornish wench! A snake like all other Martells! You told Tywin's brat to kill me, did you?! To place that dirty son of yours on the Iron Throne instead of my Viserys! I will have you burned on the stake like the desert witch you are!"

But Rhaenys had no trouble spinning around on her feet and using her spear to literally smack her grandfather in the face and toss him to the ground by brutal force from the training she had gotten from Oberyn and Laywyn as a way to defend herself against dangers. Even ghosts could be hit, if you were a spirit as well.

"You will not call my mother anything like this disdainful way of addressing, worthless piece of scum."

Not giving Aerys any time to respond or otherwise react, Rhaenys began to beat him up with her magic, effortlessly tossing him around and slamming him into the nearby pillars and floor like a ragdoll like how a very young child would do with toys during a temper tantrum.

"I know what you said about me when I was first presented to the royal court, a few months after my birth. Smelling Dornish, you had the nerve to say despite accepting a Martell princess as the closest thing to a bride with Valyrian blood that you so desired for my father, and refused to hold me, unlike Grandmother Rhaella who warmly welcomed her first grandchild. DID YOU CONSCIOUSLY IGNORE THAT THE LAST THREE TARGARYEN KINGS EVEN EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE THANKS TO THE DORNISH BLOOD FROM MYRIAH MARTELL AND DYANNA DAYNE!? The pure and ancient blood of Old Valyria, what a useless repeat of fucking nonsense after so many Westerosi spouses marrying into your damn House over the centuries!"

As Rhaenys proved herself to not be a passive princess that would never raise her voice or hand against someone else, Morgan clapped his hands in an ironic way of showing what he thought of Aerys, once again smiling very alike Khamûl.

"Excellent choice of words, Mother. The inbreeding of House Targaryen and their habits of marrying close relatives would have driven them to extinction though eventual infertity and lack of any members of the opposite sex to marry, had some of those non-Targaryen marriages never happened."

Now Rhaenys also smiled, and for a moment, she took the form of Mara where she would seem like a younger, female version of Khamûl when she smiled.

"Time to rob you of all the things that you used for showing your power over others, grandfather," she said with dear irony on addressing Aerys, who seemed to realise that the situation really was not going in his favor and actually looked somewhat terrified.

"For example...that cursed tongue of yours, used to belittle and insult others around yourself!"

With a spin of the spear in a circle, Rhaenys tore out the tongue of Aerys as he screamed. Blood splattered around him, but the daughter of Elia was not done yet.

"Those hands that you used to beat and claw at grandmother like a savage animal! Those feet that she would be kicked by!"

She stabbed each one of his hands with the spear, stamping hard several times on his fingers to break them, then doing the same to his feet.

"Those damn eyes of yours, who were so displeased with how I took after my Martell mother rather than your pale son!"

Oh so enjoyable it felt, to forcefully rip those eyes out from his face with the spear first stabbing one eye each and then pull them out under the screaming of agony from Aerys.

"Mother, we are getting company," Morgan said, spotting how Jaehaerys and Shaera were coming after hearing the screams of their son, "Wonderful, wonderful. Time for us to fight side by side again."

Thanks to Jaehaerys being sickly all his life, thus not being a warrior at all, and Shaera having been one of those women who preferred to be known as a great beauty over learning anything that would cause her to be viewed as unfeminine, Morgan had not problems with catching the brother-sister pair inside a simple magical cage.

"Come on, Morgan. We can not waste anymore time, My grandmother is not many hours away from being reborn."

Dragging the tortured and bleeding Aerys with her through a hold on the very edge of his clothing as if he was something unclean, Rhaenys went towards the giant portal over the volcano, Morgan right behind with his prisoners as well.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Author note: Thranduil having that burn on his face is a movie-only detail, but given the possibility of him actually being born in the First Age when Morgoth was the Dark Lord of Middle-earth, he would be old enough to have fought against dragons. And anyone who have read the Hobbit book or seen the movies, knows that Smaug took over Erebor from the Dwarves of Durin's Folk