Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess
Author's Note:
Caution: The upcoming chapter encompasses intense combat sequences and graphic depictions of violence.
LXII: The Battle for Helm's Deep
Helm's Deep, 3019 TA, March 4
The curse that had befallen Xena, once dormant, had begun to stir anew, manifesting itself in unexpected and alarming ways. In the serene environs of Lothlórien, under the watchful eyes of Haldir and Lady Galadriel, she endeavored to unravel the mystery of the spell that seemed to grip her heart with a burgeoning sense of hatred towards Legolas. This animosity flared unbidden, a dark spark igniting within her whenever thoughts of the Elf crossed her mind.
In the days following the Fellowship's departure, the curse's presence became more pronounced. Yet, within the bounds of Lothlórien, shielded by the power of Galadriel and the protective aura of Nenya, the Ring of Water, its full force was held at bay. It became apparent, however, that the protective enchantments Gandalf had placed upon her were waning, losing their potency against the deepening shadow of the curse.
Together with Haldir and Galadriel, Xena delved into the nature of the spell that bound her. They spent long hours poring over ancient texts and consulting the lore of the Elves. Galadriel, with her profound wisdom and understanding of Elven magic, discerned that the curse was indeed of Elven origin, a complex enchantment wrought with skill and intention. Beyond this, however, the details remained elusive, shrouded in mystery.
The path that lay before Xena grew clearer, albeit fraught with uncertainty. A journey back to Mirkwood seemed inevitable, a quest to seek answers and perhaps a way to break the curse. Yet, she understood that the immediate priority was the perilous venture of the Fellowship and the looming war that threatened to engulf Middle-earth. The fate of the One Ring, and consequently the fate of all free peoples, hung precariously in the balance.
Thus, for the time being, Xena remained in Lothlórien, her mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions and loyalties, her spirit caught between the urgent need to aid in the greater war and the personal quest to free herself from the curse's malevolent grasp.
In the days following Xena's prolonged stay in Lothlórien, the tranquil woods could no longer shield her from the brewing storm across Middle-earth. The dark forces of the enemy, under the sway of Saruman who had allied with Sauron, began to make their ominous presence felt far and wide. War was unfolding, its initial flames igniting in the kingdom of Rohan. Saruman, from his stronghold in Isengard, was amassing an army, not just to serve his own ambitions but also to aid Sauron in his quest for dominion.
This dark tide was not confined to Rohan alone. From the fortified city of Gondor to the verdant woods of Mirkwood, the War of the Ring was kindling, its peril reaching the corners of Middle-earth. News of these developments spread swiftly, largely aided by Galadriel's farsightedness and her ability to communicate with Elrond in Rivendell. The tidings that reached Lothlórien were a mix of hope and grim reality.
Among the most astonishing news was the return of Gandalf. Now known as Gandalf the White, his reappearance was shrouded in mystery, with few details known about how and why he had come back. This news brought a flicker of hope, even as the shadow of war loomed ever larger.
Rohan, Xena learned, was now locked in a bitter conflict with Saruman. Memories resurfaced in her mind - villages she had seen ravaged and burned decades ago, whispers that a wizard was behind the destruction. She remembered riding to Isengard, seeking Saruman, but found no trace of him then.
The situation across Middle-earth was escalating rapidly. The peaceful days in Lothlórien seemed a distant memory as Xena grappled with the reality of the war unfolding around her. The question of her own path, intertwined with the fate of the Fellowship and the broader conflict against Sauron's forces, weighed heavily upon her. The time for action was drawing near, and Xena knew she would soon have to decide her role in the upcoming battles that would shape the fate of Middle-earth.
The tidings of war stirred a deep resolve within Xena. She had once spent time in Edoras, the capital of Rohan, and though those she knew would have long passed, the plight of its people resonated with her. Middle-earth was under threat, and she felt a compelling duty to stand against the encroaching darkness.
It was not long after these reflections that Xena observed a change in the atmosphere of Caras Galadhon. The Elves, usually embodiments of tranquility, were now donning armor and taking up arms, the peace of their haven disrupted by the call to war. Xena wondered, were they too preparing to join the battle?
Lady Galadriel provided the answer. She had spoken with Elrond and resolved to honor ancient alliances by sending aid to Rohan. Xena was initially puzzled as to why Galadriel was sharing this with her, but the Lady continued, revealing more. Gandalf would renew the spells to keep her curse at bay, and she was to accompany Haldir to Edoras.
Xena's mind reeled at the news, but Galadriel explained further. The Fellowship had splintered on different paths: Frodo and Sam were journeying towards Mordor, Merry and Pippin were safe with the Ents, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had made for Edoras. The news of Boromir's death brought a wave of sorrow to both Xena and Galadriel.
The path forward was clear, albeit fraught with danger. Rohan was on the brink of war and in dire need of every warrior it could muster. Xena resolved to go, yet the thought of crossing paths with Legolas, given their recent strife, lingered in her mind. Galadriel reassured her, "Though your journey may be perilous and shadowed by darkness, fear not your meeting with Legolas. The bonds of fellowship, though strained, are not so easily broken."
With a heart braced for the trials ahead and a renewed sense of purpose, Xena prepared to depart for Edoras. The fate of Middle-earth was hanging in the balance, and she would play her part in the unfolding drama, whatever the cost.
Xena wrestled with confusion and a touch of irritation at Galadriel's words. How could the Lady of Light be so certain of the bond she presumed existed between Xena and Legolas, or even with King Thranduil of Mirkwood? True, her return of the queen's remains might have earned their gratitude, but to Xena, this did not necessarily signify a deeper connection or imply that she held a special place in the hearts of those in Mirkwood. The notion of being under the protection of the Halls of the Elvenking struck her as implausible, almost like a jest in poor taste.
Yet, during their last evening in Caras Galadhon, Galadriel engaged Xena in a prolonged and earnest conversation. The Lady of the Wood spoke with a gentle firmness, her ethereal eyes reflecting a deep wisdom. "Xena, I perceive in you a wisdom that discerns the unspoken, an understanding of gestures and deeds where words are not given. It is this insight that binds you to those you have aided, and why I believe you hold a place of significance in Mirkwood."
Galadriel's words, though spoken softly, carried the weight of centuries, echoing with a truth that resonated within Xena. The human warrior began to reflect on her past actions and interactions, realizing that perhaps her influence and importance were greater than she had allowed herself to acknowledge.
As Xena prepared to depart from Lothlórien, these thoughts lingered in her mind. The wisdom of Galadriel, coupled with the experiences of her journey, had opened her eyes to a new understanding of her place in the world and her connections with those she had encountered. With a heart now open to the possibilities of unspoken bonds and unacknowledged friendships, Xena set forth from the Golden Wood, ready to face whatever the future might hold.
Galadriel and Xena strolled together, their conversation taking a profound turn. Galadriel addressed Xena with a gentle yet pointed tone. "Child, do you truly believe that King Thranduil offered you chambers within his royal quarters merely out of gratitude?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of disbelief.
Xena, taken aback, struggled to find an answer. "I... I hadn't given it much thought," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Galadriel continued, her words imbued with wisdom. "Indeed, Thranduil might have granted you passage through his realm out of thanks, but to offer you such an honor as chambers near Legolas and the sword of the Elvenqueen? That is not mere gratitude."
Xena, her brows furrowed in contemplation, listened intently.
"Consider, Xena, the actions of Thranduil," Galadriel urged. "To allow you such proximity to Legolas, to bestow upon you a weapon of such significance. Do you not see? From the moment you arrived with Legolas, from the tales of your deeds together, Thranduil recognized your importance in his son's life."
Xena's thoughts drifted to her time in Mirkwood, to the initial hostility with Thranduil and the chaos that had followed. She hadn't realized then how those events had altered her standing in the Elvenking's eyes.
"You earned Thranduil's trust, a feat not easily achieved. Your presence in the royal quarters, and possession of the Elvenqueen's sword, they speak more than mere favor," Galadriel added, her gaze fixed on Xena.
Reflecting on her past, Xena began to understand the depth of her impact. "I never saw it that way. I was too caught up in the immediacy of events, the danger and distrust," she responded, her voice laced with newfound realization.
Galadriel nodded solemnly. "In Middle-earth, there is none, not even Legolas, who would be permitted to wield that sword. Thranduil's decision to entrust it to you signifies something profound, though its exact nature even I cannot discern. But know this, you are regarded far beyond a figure of mere gratitude."
Xena absorbed these revelations, her heart stirred by the implications.
"So, Child, it is time to leave the shelter of these woods," Galadriel concluded. "Embrace the role you have earned, face the mistakes you have made, and join the fight that awaits. Middle-earth needs warriors like you."
With these words, Xena felt a renewed sense of purpose. She had come to Lothlórien seeking refuge and understanding, and now she left with a clearer vision of her place in the wider tapestry of Middle-earth. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and danger, but Xena was ready to meet it head-on.
Xena, now journeying alongside Haldir and his company of Elves, found herself traversing the vast distances towards Edoras, and ultimately, Helm's Deep. The journey was arduous, spanning three hundred miles to Edoras, a trek of more than five days. Following this, an additional three days' travel was required to reach Helm's Deep. Fortune favored them, as they arrived on the evening before the enemy's onslaught.
Traveling with the Elves presented a new experience for Xena. Their remarkable endurance and superior physical strength allowed them to cover greater distances more swiftly than she was accustomed to. Camping, a rare luxury enjoyed only once every two days, was something Xena accepted without complaint. She cherished the return to the open road and the anticipation of the impending battle.
The tranquility of Lothlórien had offered her a respite unlike any she had experienced in many years, answering questions that had long lingered in her mind. The contrast between the elven realms and those of men was stark, yet both held their own unique stories and lessons. Now, as they neared the war that was unfolding, Xena understood that she was about to confront challenges she had hoped were behind her. Among these looming challenges was the complex matter of Legolas – a problem that had increasingly preoccupied her thoughts.
As they neared Helm's Deep, the gravity of their task weighed heavily upon her. The war they were entering was not just a battle of arms, but a clash of light against darkness, a fight for the very soul of Middle-earth. Xena, with her warrior's heart and newfound insights, prepared to meet this challenge head-on, ready to play her part in the unfolding drama and face whatever her fate might bring, including the unresolved tensions with Legolas.
Legolas, for his part, grappled with his own turmoil regarding Xena's words. It wasn't that her harsh remarks didn't affect him; they did, significantly. Yet, he had found it within himself to forgive her, long before their paths diverged. Whether it was the influence of the curse or simply a recognition that her anger had some basis in truth, Legolas understood that hearing hard truths from a friend can be painful.
His deeper concern, however, lay in Xena's companionship with Haldir. Legolas couldn't help but wonder if, in the time they spent together, Haldir might have garnered Xena's interest, a thought that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. This worry led to frequent, albeit vague, disagreements with Aragorn. Legolas never disclosed the true reason behind his discontent, but he harbored a belief that Aragorn should have allowed Xena to continue with them.
Legolas's attitude shifted markedly after a perilous incident where Aragorn was believed to have fallen and perished. This grim belief brought an end to Legolas's more petulant behavior, as he confronted the possibility of real loss. He clung to a conviction that if Aragorn had truly perished, he would have sensed it.
His belief was vindicated when Aragorn returned, injured but very much alive. Legolas felt a profound relief and gratitude, and he dutifully returned to Aragorn the Evenstar pendant of Arwen, which Aragorn had lost during his ordeal. This moment served as a turning point for Legolas, who realized the depth and importance of the bonds within the Fellowship. The experience renewed his focus on their quest and the challenges that lay ahead, even as thoughts of Xena lingered in his heart.
For Legolas, the bond of love between Aragorn and Arwen had always been something he held in high regard, a relationship he felt compelled to support and cherish. Despite Aragorn's reservations about keeping Arwen from her Elven kin, Legolas stood by his friend, offering encouragement and hope. Over time, he had even drawn Gimli into this circle of support, as the Elf and Dwarf had developed an unexpected but deep friendship.
In the heat of battle, Legolas and Gimli often engaged in a lighthearted rivalry, each vying to outdo the other in their number of vanquished foes. This friendly competition extended beyond the battlefield, as they would jovially argue over their respective kill counts, each claiming superior prowess.
On this particular night, following an earlier disagreement in the armory of Helm's Deep, Legolas found himself seeking out Aragorn to offer an apology. Gimli, who had become an integral part of their fellowship, joined them, his robust presence a comforting constant.
Their reconciliation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of an Elven horn. The urgent call to arms spurred them into action, and together, they rushed towards the gates. The camaraderie between the three warriors – an Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf – was a testament to the strength and unity found within the Fellowship. In the face of impending conflict, their bond was a source of resilience and determination, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As the atmosphere in Helm's Deep grew tense with the anticipation of battle, a sudden horn call pierced the air, a sound distinct from the harsh cries of Orcs. Aragorn and Legolas, sensing something unexpected, rushed out to the battlements, their faces a blend of curiosity and hope.
The guards on duty, equally bewildered by the unfamiliar sound, acted swiftly. "Send for the king," commanded Bereg, a look of urgency on his face. "Open the gate!"
The heavy gates of Helm's Deep swung open, revealing a sight that brought both awe and relief to the defenders. Marching up the causeway in disciplined ranks were the Elves of Lothlórien, their armor glinting under the moonlight. Led by Haldir, they moved with a grace and solemnity that was characteristic of their kind. The Rohirrim soldiers, initially struck by wonderment, soon let their faces light up with delight at the unexpected reinforcements.
King Théoden, witnessing this extraordinary scene, voiced the question on everyone's mind. "How is this possible?"
Haldir, stepping forward with a calm dignity, addressed the King. "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. Long ago, an alliance existed between Elves and Men. We fought and died together. We come now to honor that allegiance."
At that moment, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli descended the steps to greet their Elven allies. Aragorn, with a smile of genuine gratitude, greeted Haldir. "Mae govannen, Haldir," he said, bowing respectfully before embracing the Elf in a heartfelt hug. Haldir, initially taken aback by the warmth of the greeting, returned the embrace.
"You are most welcome," Aragorn exclaimed, his voice laden with relief and joy.
Legolas and Haldir then exchanged a warrior's clasp, a mutual respect evident in their gesture.
Turning to face King Théoden, Haldir spoke with a quiet resolve. "We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."
As the Elves took their positions on the battlements alongside the Men of Rohan, the distant sound of an approaching army grew louder. Below, in the caverns, the women and children huddled together, the fear palpable in their midst as they heard the ominous march of the Uruk-hai. Above, the defenders, a united front of Men and Elves, stood ready, gazing out into the darkness pierced by the flickering torchlight of the advancing enemy.
In that moment, Helm's Deep stood as a beacon of unity and resilience, a testament to the enduring bond between Elves and Men, ready to face the impending storm together.
In the thickening tension of Helm's Deep, as the Elves took their positions along the battlements, Legolas and Xena found themselves momentarily left behind. Their eyes met briefly, a recognition of each other's presence, but words had yet to be exchanged since Haldir's arrival.
Breaking the silence, Legolas addressed Xena, his expression as inscrutable as ever, yet to her surprise, he seemed willing to converse. "You followed?" he asked, his tone neutral. He then inquired, with a hint of concern, "How are you feeling?" It was clear to Xena that he was referring to the curse.
"I wouldn't miss the chance to join this fight, elf," Xena responded with a feigned lightness, trying to mask her lingering remorse over their last encounter. Legolas's reaction was a slight, knowing smile and a raised eyebrow, a silent acknowledgment of her familiar bravado. "Galadriel told me about Gandalf's return," she added. "He's the reason the curse is still in check."
Legolas's expression softened slightly with relief upon hearing this. He seemed genuinely thankful that she was not currently suffering under the curse's influence. He didn't say much in response, merely nodding in understanding. Yet, Xena could sense that there was more he wanted to ask, more he wanted to say. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, a myriad of unspoken thoughts flickering behind his eyes.
In that brief exchange, a bridge was tentatively rebuilt between them, a silent acknowledgment of their shared past and the complex web of emotions and experiences that connected them. As the threat of battle loomed ever closer, Legolas and Xena prepared to stand side by side once more, united against the common foe, each grappling with their own inner battles.
Xena, aware of the gravity of the impending battle, felt a pressing need to address the unresolved tension between her and Legolas. Before they assumed their positions on the battlements, she turned to him, her hand lightly grasping his arm to capture his attention. "Legolas, about what I said regarding your mother," she began, her words earnest and unguarded, "about Mirkwood, I was wrong."
Legolas, taken aback by her forthrightness, responded with a surprising gesture, gently raising his hand to quiet her. "You were not entirely wrong," he admitted, his normally guarded face betraying his emotions. "We failed to protect the Elvenqueen." His concise words carried a weight that deepened Xena's sense of regret.
Xena, her voice stronger than she intended, disagreed, her fingers tightening around his arm. "No, the curse, Dular, they are to blame, not you or your father. You did everything within your power. My words were cruel and unjust. You must know that I do not truly believe them."
Legolas, cutting off her apology with a slight smile, shifted the focus of their conversation. "It's good to have you back," he said, subtly steering away from the painful topic. "Just be cautious tonight, and try not to be too reckless."
Xena, expecting lingering resentment from Legolas, found herself surprised by his change in demeanor. She realized he was still shouldering blame for the past, a burden she had unwittingly exacerbated. "It's good to be back," she echoed, a half-smile forming on her lips. "But I can't promise I'll hold back," she added with a characteristic smirk.
In this brief exchange, a semblance of their old rapport was restored, a mutual understanding and respect rekindled amidst the shadows of their shared guilt and sorrow. As they prepared to face the night's battle, they did so with a renewed sense of camaraderie, ready to stand shoulder-to-shoulder against the encroaching darkness.
Xena's full apology remained unspoken that night, a silent acknowledgment that there would be time for deeper reconciliation after the battle of Helm's Deep, should they both survive the ordeal. With a shared understanding, she and Legolas made their way up to the wall where Gimli was stationed.
Upon seeing Xena, Gimli exhibited a moment of surprise, his gruff exterior momentarily giving way to a genuine expression of delight. "Xena! By Durin's beard, I never expected to see you here!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of surprise and warmth.
Xena greeted the Dwarf with a smile, feeling a sense of camaraderie in his presence. "It seems I couldn't stay away from all the excitement," she replied, her tone light despite the gravity of their situation.
Gimli, taking a moment to compose himself from the surprise of her arrival, engaged in a more heartfelt conversation. "I've missed you, Xena. You should have seen me trying to keep up with these princely Elf," he said, his tone laced with a mix of jest and sincerity. "It's been quite the ordeal without your sword at our side."
Their conversation, filled with the warmth of friendship and the shared experiences of past adventures, was a brief respite from the tension of the impending battle. Gimli's words and demeanor reflected not just a warrior's respect but also a friend's concern.
As they stood together on the battlements, the trio – Xena, Legolas, and Gimli – presented a united front. Despite the uncertainty of the coming fight, their bond, forged through trials and camaraderie, stood firm. In the face of overwhelming odds, this fellowship within the Fellowship offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the strength of friendship could endure.
As midnight approached, darkness enveloped Helm's Deep like a shadowy, ominous presence, foreboding the chaos that lay ahead. The sky, a tapestry of gloom, hung heavily over the valley. Suddenly, a brilliant flash of lightning cleaved the darkness, illuminating the landscape. The hills to the east were briefly bathed in an eerie, white light, revealing a sea of figures – some short and stout, others tall and foreboding, clad in dark armor, advancing relentlessly.
Hundreds upon hundreds of Saruman's forces swarmed over the Dike and through the gap, a black tide surging towards the walls of Helm's Deep. The sound of thunder reverberated through the valley, a harbinger of the coming storm of war.
A palpable tension gripped the defenders on the walls. Men and Elves stood side by side, their eyes trained on the vast expanse before the stronghold. The distant sound of the marching Uruk-Hai army, each step a drumbeat of impending doom, filled the air long before the enemy came into view. Their cries, fierce and guttural, echoed across the valley, intensifying the sense of dread among the Rohirrim.
Atop the fortress, Gimli, Legolas, and Xena stood ready. Gimli, his height a disadvantage, struggled to see over the wall. Legolas, poised and vigilant, stood to the right of the Dwarf, his bow at the ready. His gaze alternated between the assembling enemy forces and Xena, who stood to Gimli's left. The Elf was acutely aware of the peril that lay ahead.
Xena felt a surge of nervous energy coursing through her, a familiar anticipation of battle. Her well-worn leather armor, now cleaned and repaired, bore no trace of the trials it had endured. The sword of the Elvenqueen rested on her back, and her double Chakram hung at her side, ready to be unleashed upon the enemy. Her hair, braided in a style both practical and distinctive, framed her determined face. Trained for battle, this was where she thrived, where her purpose was clearest.
Aragorn, embodying the essence of a true King yet to claim his crown, exuded a blend of noble grace and warrior's valor. Legolas, with his proud Elven heritage, shone in the face of adversity. And Gimli, with his straightforward, rustic charm, harbored a pure heart and unparalleled skill with his axe.
As the Uruk-Hai army drew closer, Xena's resolve hardened. Fear was present, not for herself, but for those she had come to regard as friends, as comrades in arms. Together, they stood at Helm's Deep, prepared to face the overwhelming force of evil, united in their determination to protect the innocent and uphold the light against the encroaching darkness.
As the night deepened at Helm's Deep, Xena reflected on the fellowship and their journey. Mithrandir, Gandalf, the guiding spirit and leader of their group, was the beacon of hope they awaited, expected to return with reinforcements. The hobbits, with their peaceful nature, the Elves and humans she had encountered, all had unwittingly touched her soul with their honesty and valor. Now, she stood ready to fight alongside them.
The storm that raged around them was eerily silent, devoid of lightning or thunder. Aragorn, his face weathered and weary, wiped away the dampness from his brow. Behind him, the elven forces stood prepared for battle, as the dark mass of Saruman's army closed in. With the Elves' aid, Aragorn knew their chances were slim, yet they were resolved to fight to the very end.
"A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!" Aragorn called out, steeling himself and his comrades for the imminent clash. The tension of waiting only heightened their anxiety and fear, as the Uruk-Hai sought to intimidate them with their menacing presence.
Gimli, struggling to see over the ramparts, voiced his frustration. "You could have picked a better spot."
"Shall I describe it to you? Or would you like me to find you a box?" Legolas teased, lightening the mood with his jest.
"Move a few steps to the right," Xena suggested, pointing to an opening farther along the wall. Legolas and Gimli looked at her in surprise before turning their attention back to the enemy.
As the sound of the Uruk-Hai's war drums grew louder, the Elves raised their bows, arrows ready. Legolas followed suit, his eyes scanning for targets. Xena gripped her chakram tightly, prepared for action. The men of Rohan drew their swords, bracing for the assault.
Suddenly, an elderly soldier faltered, losing an arrow that struck down a Uruk-Hai. The enemy forces, momentarily stunned, regrouped and responded with a hail of arrows.
"Dartho!" Aragorn commanded the Elves, urging them to hold their fire.
The Elves, bows drawn, waited for the right moment. Legolas, expertly aiming his bow, remarked, "Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc," pointing out the vulnerabilities in the Uruk-Hai armor.
As the rain poured down, Aragorn gave the signal. "Leithio i philinn!" he cried, and a volley of arrows soared through the air, marking the beginning of the fierce battle for Helm's Deep. The warriors on the ramparts stood united, ready to defend their stronghold against the onslaught, their hearts bound by a shared resolve to stand against the darkness.
As night deepened at Helm's Deep, the rain intensified, shifting from a gentle patter to a relentless downpour. The cold droplets numbed the skin of the warriors, chilling them to the bone. The night was void of wind, but the air was filled with the whistling of arrows, each finding its mark with deadly precision. King Théoden commanded, and a volley of arrows was unleashed from the battlements.
Legolas, the embodiment of Elven grace in battle, assumed a shooting stance. His movements were fluid and precise, each motion a careful balance of calm and lethal intent. He drew his bow, the string taut against his fingers, and released arrow after arrow with unerring accuracy. A familiar exhilaration surged through him, a prelude to the clash of arms that awaited.
Xena, meanwhile, moved with a rhythm born of countless battles. Her chakram flew from her hand, its edges slicing through Uruk-Hai after Uruk-Hai, before returning to her with the precision of a boomerang. She marveled at the Elves' skill in archery, especially Legolas, who stood a mere distance away, his focus unwavering.
"Tangado a chadad!" (Keep shooting!) The command echoed along the walls, urging the defenders to maintain their barrage. The Uruk-Hai, in response, began scaling the walls, their ladders and ropes carrying them upwards. The first casualties among the Elves fell, and the battle's intensity escalated.
Amidst the chaos, the Uruk-Hai pressed their attack, their advance marked by the blaring of harsh trumpets. They split their forces, some heading for the Deeping Wall, others towards the gates of the Hornburg. Emblazoned with the emblem of Isengard, they advanced relentlessly.
Xena let out a battle cry, her expression fierce and determined. She moved with lethal agility, her every action a dance of death. Legolas, not far from her, fought with equal prowess, his twin blades a blur of motion.
"Legolas, two already!" Gimli declared, his axe rising and falling in deadly arcs.
"I'm at seventeen!" Legolas retorted with a hint of pride, a smile playing on his lips despite the grim situation.
"Argh! I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!" Gimli grumbled, his competitive spirit undimmed.
"Nineteen!" Legolas called out, tallying his count.
Xena, focused on her own fight, couldn't help but be drawn into their rivalry. She began counting her own kills, the competition adding a grim dimension to the battle's urgency.
Meanwhile, a contingent of Uruk-Hai, bearing shields, advanced towards the Main Gate. Aragorn, spotting them, yelled, "Nauthannen!" (Northway!) Xena turned towards him, momentarily confused by his command.
As the Uruk-Hai fell under the Elves' arrows, a sinister strategy unfolded at the base of the wall. Saruman's forces had planted explosives in the sewer, a single spark away from devastation. Suddenly, a soldier bearing a torch dashed towards the sewer, his intent clear.
The battle of Helm's Deep had reached a critical juncture, each warrior – Man, Elf, and Dwarf – fighting with all their might against the encroaching darkness, united in their determination to defend their stronghold against the overwhelming might of Saruman's army.
The battle at Helm's Deep intensified, reaching a crucial turning point. Aragorn, sensing the immediate danger, called out to Legolas. "Togo hon dad, Legolas! Dago hon!" (Legolas, stop him! Kill him!) he yelled, urgently signaling for the Elf to target the Uruk with the torch.
Legolas, quick to react, notched two arrows to his bow, aiming at the sprinting Uruk. Xena, realizing the gravity of the situation, moved swiftly behind Legolas to support him. Despite Legolas's skillful shot, the Uruk soldier, though wounded, managed to ignite the explosives. A massive section of the wall erupted, sending debris flying and shaking the fortress to its core.
The explosion caused large chunks of rock to collapse, and Aragorn was thrown to the ground, momentarily losing consciousness. The breach in the wall provided a crucial opening for Saruman's forces. Simultaneously, at the North Main Gate, the Uruk-Hai relentlessly attempted to break through, while Théoden and his men fought valiantly to hold them back.
Aragorn, recovering from his fall, sprang into action as the enemy poured through the breach. Gimli, atop the wall, witnessed the chaos unfold and, without hesitation, leapt down into the fray. He landed heavily but immediately charged towards the enemy with his axe.
"Gimli! Prepare to charge!" Aragorn shouted, rallying the defenders. Gimli, undeterred by the overwhelming odds, continued to fight fiercely. Aragorn called to the Elves, "Hado I philinn! Hero!" (Hurl the arrows! Charge!), leading them in a counterattack.
Legolas, meanwhile, was engaged in fierce combat on the wall. He moved with lethal grace, his blades cutting through the Orcs and Uruk-Hai. Noticing Gimli in peril, he swiftly joined the battle, using a shield to defend himself while firing arrows at the approaching enemies.
Xena, witnessing Legolas's fluid movements, was momentarily awestruck. Shaking off her amazement, she performed an acrobatic leap, landing smoothly beside Legolas to join the fight. The two warriors exchanged a brief look of mutual respect before continuing their assault.
The battle raged on, a maelstrom of violence and chaos. Those who could retreat to the keep did so, while Gimli, despite his protests, was pulled away from the front lines by two Elves.
Xena found herself fighting alongside Haldir, each move a deadly dance of blade and skill. Her senses heightened, she was a whirlwind of activity, her sword dispatching foe after foe. Covered in dirt, blood, and the grime of battle, she fought with a fierce determination, her thoughts focused solely on the fight at hand.
As the battle reached its zenith, the fellowship and their allies stood united against the dark tide of Saruman's army, each committed to holding the line, to protecting Helm's Deep and all it represented in the struggle against evil.
In the thick of battle at Helm's Deep, Xena's combat prowess was put to the ultimate test. Suddenly, a Uruk-Hai charged towards Haldir from behind. Xena, perceiving the imminent danger, acted instinctively. With swift reflexes, she pushed Haldir out of harm's way and struck the Uruk-Hai with a deadly blow. Haldir managed a defense but sustained injuries – fortunately, not fatal. The encounter unfolded with lightning speed, and Xena swiftly dispatched the Uruk-Hai, while Aragorn intervened to prevent a further attack.
Haldir, visibly shaken and wounded, sank to his knees, his strength seemingly drained. Aragorn, with a warrior's compassion, caught him before he could fall completely. It was only then that Xena paused her relentless fighting, rushing to Haldir's side with a look of deep concern. Although seriously hurt, Haldir was alive. The few remaining Elves quickly came to his aid, carrying him to safety within the keep.
The battle raged on relentlessly. Aragorn fought valiantly at the gate, while Legolas provided cover with his bow. Despite their formidable resistance, the sheer number of Uruks was overwhelming, and they found themselves forced to retreat further into the keep. King Théoden, recognizing the dire situation, commanded all surviving soldiers to fall back. Dawn approached, and with it, a sense of despair – it seemed the battle was lost.
Aragorn, recalling Gandalf's parting words from Edoras, joined Théoden, Legolas, Xena, Gimli, and the remaining Rohirrim in a desperate, final charge to confront the Uruk-hai army. This bold move aimed to create a path for the women and children to escape to safety. As they burst forth from the keep, the first light of dawn broke over the valley. At that moment, Gandalf, flanked by Éomer and his cavalry, appeared on the eastern hill.
Gandalf's forces descended upon the unsuspecting Uruks, turning the tide of battle. The Uruk-hai, caught off guard and now filled with fear, retreated towards Fangorn Forest, where they met their end at the hands of the Ents and their Huorn allies. Meanwhile, the Ents had overtaken Isengard, routing the remaining Orcs and flooding the plains around Orthanc, thus trapping Saruman in his tower.
The Battle of Helm's Deep, against all odds, was a victory. Yet, as the dust settled, it was clear that this was but one skirmish in a much larger war. All of Middle-earth was rising to the call of battle, and the struggle against the darkness was far from over. The fellowship and their allies, though weary, knew their fight must continue, for the fate of Middle-earth hung in the balance.
((Upcoming Chapter Sixty-Three))
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