The Silver Flame (LOTR)

The Battle At Helms Deep (1)

The thrum of marching feet grew louder, resonating like the heartbeat of some vast, terrible beast. Visenya stood among the soldiers on the walls of Helm's Deep, her bow gripped tightly in her hand, her eyes narrowed against the night. Rain began to fall, gentle at first, then harder, slashing against her face and soaking into her armor. She ignored it, her focus trained on the sea of Uruk-hai below, dark shapes moving in perfect unison like a shadow sweeping across the land.

The fortress trembled under the weight of their footsteps. Her heart pounded, not with fear, but with anticipation. The familiar rush before battle. Her eyes flicked to Aragorn, who stood at the forefront, giving commands to the Elves who had come to fight alongside Men. His voice rang out, steady and strong, cutting through the storm.

"A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!" Aragorn shouted. "Show them no mercy! For you shall receive none!"

Visenya notched an arrow, breathing deeply, steadying herself. She scanned the ranks of the Uruks, their grotesque faces illuminated by brief flashes of lightning. The tension was palpable, a living thing that coiled around them all.

As the rain poured down in torrents, the Uruk-hai leader stepped forward, a hulking figure silhouetted against the storm. He raised his weapon high and released a bone-chilling cry that echoed through the valley. The marching stopped, the ground fell still. The Uruk-hai waited, snarling and growling, their anticipation mirrored by the men and Elves on the walls.

"What's happening out there?" Gimli growled, struggling to see over the battlements.

Legolas, standing near Visenya, smirked. "Shall I describe it to you?" he asked with a grin. "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Gimli let out a hearty laugh, but the levity was brief. Visenya's hand tightened on her bow. Her breath misted in the cold night air. She had faced many battles before, but this one felt different. The weight of it pressed on her chest, a heavy reminder of the stakes. Helm's Deep was a fortress, but even stone could break under the right pressure.

Suddenly, the crack of a single arrow split the air. Visenya's eyes snapped toward the source. Aldor, an old man on the wall, had released his arrow too soon, striking an Uruk in the neck. The creature let out a gurgling groan and collapsed.

"Dartho!" Aragorn commanded, his voice a warning to hold the line.

The Uruk-hai roared in fury, baring their jagged teeth. The leader, undeterred, raised his weapon once more and let out a feral cry. The horde surged forward, the earth trembling beneath their charge.

"So it begins," Théoden muttered grimly beside her.

Visenya's pulse quickened. She notched her arrow, her mind flashing back to her lessons in Westeros. She could almost hear Daemon's voice, smooth and commanding, as he guided her hands, teaching her to hold the bow steady even under pressure.

"Breathe," Daemon had said, his hands warm over hers. "The bow is not your enemy. It's an extension of you. Let it guide you."

She exhaled slowly, aiming for the lead Uruk. The memory of Sir Criston followed, his lessons harsher but just as impactful. He had drilled into her precision, the need to strike cleanly and quickly.

"One shot, Visenya," Criston had said, his face stern. "One shot is all you'll get. Make it count."

The lessons of her past fueled her now. Her hand was steady as she pulled the bowstring taut, her eyes narrowing on the gap in the Uruk's armor just below the neck. She let the arrow fly. It struck true, piercing the Uruk's throat. It staggered and fell, trampled by the oncoming tide of its comrades.

"Leithio i philinn!" Aragorn's voice rang out, and a volley of arrows followed hers, raining down on the Uruk-hai like deadly hail.

Visenya notched another arrow, her movements automatic, swift. She shot again, and again, each arrow finding its mark. Around her, the Elves were swift and precise, their arrows slicing through the rain like silver streaks.

"Fire!" Théoden ordered. The men of Rohan released their own volley, but the Uruk-hai pressed on, relentless. For every one that fell, another took its place, their ranks seemingly endless.

Visenya could feel the wall tremble as the Uruk-hai closed in. They began to push ladders up against the fortress, their berserkers climbing toward the battlements with terrifying speed.

"Pendraid!" Aragorn shouted. "Ladders!"

Visenya slung her bow across her back, drawing her sword just as the first Uruk appeared over the wall. Its grotesque face was inches from hers, its yellow eyes gleaming with bloodlust. She swung her sword in a fluid arc, cutting it down before it could reach her.

More came, climbing over the walls like ravenous beasts. She fought with precision, every swing of her blade deliberate, every movement a dance of survival. For a moment, she was back in the training yard in King's Landing, sparring with Daemon, his laughter echoing in her ears as he easily parried her strikes.

"You fight with passion, niece," he had told her. "But passion alone won't win battles. Control your fury, and you'll control the fight."

Her blade found its mark again and again, cutting down Uruks as they poured over the walls. But there were so many. Too many.

Beside her, Legolas fired arrow after arrow, his movements graceful and deadly. "Nineteen," he muttered as he dropped another Uruk.

Gimli, not to be outdone, swung his axe with a grunt, cutting down a charging Uruk. "I'm on seventeen!" he barked, panting.

The Uruks pressed harder, their numbers seemingly endless. Visenya's arms burned, but she pushed through the pain. Another ladder slammed against the wall, and she moved to meet the next wave of attackers.

The storm raged above them, the rain now a torrential downpour that slicked the stone beneath her feet. She could barely hear the commands being shouted over the roar of battle, but she didn't need to. Her instincts took over, honed by years of training, by the lessons of men long gone. Daemon and Criston had prepared her for this.

As she cut down another Uruk, her eyes flicked to the horizon. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the sea of enemies that still surged toward them. The fight was only beginning.

But she would hold the line.

They all would.

No matter the cost.