DEFINING MOMENT

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

TA 3019

Near Isengard

A horseman rode towards them. His horse looked exhausted. The horseman himself had a dented helm and cloven shield. He climbed from his horse and stood gasping for breath.

"Is Éomer here?" he wheezed. "It is too late! We were driven back yesterday over the Isen with many casualties." He took a deep breath and continued. "At night, fresh forces came over the river against our camp. Saruman has armed the wild hillmen of Dunland, and these he loosed upon us. Erkenbrand has gathered his men in Helm's Deep. The rest are scattered."

Théoden didn't speak. Yet the man continued, his wild eyes pleading. "Where is Éomer? There is no hope ahead. Return to Edoras before the wolves of Isengard come there!"

Théoden urged his horse forward, for he'd been hidden by his guards. "Come, stand before me, Ceorl!"

The man fell to his knees, his face lighting in joy and wonder.

"The last host of the Eorlingas has ridden forth. It will not return without battle," Théoden declared. Yet his face shone with light Éomer had only seen when his uncle was determined.

"Command me, lord!" Ceorl almost sobbed in joy.

"Ride, Théoden!" Gandalf ordered briskly. Suddenly. His face had changed to urgency. "Ride to Helm's Deep! Do not go to the Fords of Isen. I must leave for a while on a swift errand."

Before Éomer could raise any questions, the wizard turned to him. "Keep well the Lord of the Mark till I return. Await me at Helm's Gate! Farewell!"

He took off on Shadowfax like an arrow from a bow.

Éomer set his face and his course southward towards Helm's Deep. He would keep his uncle well at all costs.

At Helm's Gate, before the mouth of the Deep, a heel of rock thrust outward by the northern cliff. In the days of the glory of Gondor, the sea-kings had built this fortress with giants' help. It was called the Hornburg because when the trumpet sounded over the tower there, it sounded as if armies long forgotten were streaming to war from caves beneath the hills.

There was a wall from the Hornburg to the southern cliff, barring the entrance to the gorge. The Deeping-stream passed through a wide culvert. Erkenbrand, master of the Westfold lived in Helm's Deep. He'd repaired the wall and made the fastness strong.

It was dark now. Éomer didn't like the stillness that permeated through the air. But it didn't last long. Cries and horn blasts were heard from the scouts who went in front. Arrows whistled.

"Wolf-riders!" Hámund had ridden hard over to them. "A host of orcs and wild men are coming for Helm's Deep!" He gasped for breath, leaning over his horse.

"How great is the host that comes from the North?" Éomer barked. "Speak quickly."

"Very great," Hámund said breathlessly. "I do not doubt the main strength of the enemy is many times as great as all that we have here."

"Let us be swift!" Éomer said. "There are caves in Helm's Deep, and secret ways lead to the hills!"

They had to hurry to Helm's Deep to get settled as fast as possible, before the hordes of Saruman arrived.

"Don't put your trust on those secret paths," Théoden warned. "Saruman has long spied out this land. Yet Gandalf said to go to Helm's Deep. Perhaps there our defence may last long. Let us go!"
Aragorn and Legolas rode with Éomer through the dark night. They climbed southward, higher and higher into the dim folds about the mountains' feet.