First came the soldiers from the East, and there were a sad few, but we were grateful for their help nonetheless. Then Boromir, a son of the Steward of Gondor, arrived with his men. They were already battle weary from fighting off the orcs there, but Boromir had seen fit to bring his strongest to help us just the same. It was honorable. We would have understood had they all been too run-through to fight another battle.
Boromir also brought with him dark news. He said that the enemy had passed the mountains, which meant--Eomer estimated--that we had, at most, three more days before they reached the Riddermark.
But Gandalf was not here. He had a reputation for unpredictability, but he and Lady Galadriel would be aware of the looming danger, and I prayed help would make it in time.
As it was, the women and children were moved to the shelter of Helm's Deep, Rohan's fortress below ground. Our soldiers would fight to hold the orcs outside its strong outer walls for battle. Rohan's castle, itself, would be too vulnerable a place to remain.
As there was no Gandalf, there were no elves. But there was a part of me that did not want Haldir involved in this battle at all. I felt a potent sense of protectiveness towards him. He had lost and sacrificed enough. The thought of my own death frightened me less than the idea of his. He was immortal. He was meant to live forever. His life was as precious to me as my own, and I wanted him safe, preferably forever. But I was not in charge of these decisions.
As it was, it seemed that my fears may not be a consideration at all.
In little over a day, Eomer announced that the Orcs were spotted in the far horizon. War was nearly upon us...and neither Gandalf, nor the elves were in sight. They would likely be too late now.
I thought that I would probably die in this place, and regretted that I could not see my mother or father or my childhood home one more time.
But it was not to be.
War was practically at our doorstep...surely by the break of day. And it was starting to rain.
With the rising of the sun, and still no sign of Gandalf, Eowyn and I made our way--with the rest of Rohan's people-- into the depths and prayed our mortal men might know a victory of their own.
"I barely know what to do with myself." I wrung my hands pacing. "I have never fought an orc, though I shot a troll in the buttocks with an arrow once," I told Eowyn. I had only more recently jousted with she and her brother, and mainly in Lorien with Haldir...although there were times I wondered if he was trying to kill me.
"You will do what survival demands," she said, swinging her sword to loosen and ready her arm. "Our soldiers defend the outside, and we will protect our people here."
Haldir was, one again, correct. The ladies of Rohan were strong fighters. I did not want to let Eowyn down.
"I will," I said, determined, and instinctively gripped the sword's handle at my side.
There was shouting from beyond the doors of our lower keep, many voices, and I was gripped with a sudden, ice cold fear. I assumed something awful was begun, until I noted the tone of the voices were less panicked and more excited. Eowyn noticed, as well, and we exchanged a quick look before running for the doors, which were yet to be barred.
We pushed them open and men were gathering hurriedly around to one side of the keep, staring over the side at what sounded like a frantically paced rider. When the man emerged, I saw--with no small modicum of relief--that it was Gandalf upon his snow-white horse.
