The Silver Flame (LOTR)

The Horn of Helm Hammerhand

Eomer reined in Firefoot as they crested the ridge, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield below. The light of dawn had only just begun to break over the eastern horizon, casting long shadows over the carnage that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sight was grim: Helm's Deep, once a stronghold of pride and defiance, now teetered on the brink of collapse. Smoke billowed from the shattered gates, and the relentless tide of Uruk-hai swarmed the remaining defenders, their cruel weapons glinting in the pale light.

His heart pounded in his chest, but not from fear of the battle. No, that was a familiar rhythm, one that Éomer welcomed with the same ferocity as his love for Rohan. But today, something else unsettled him. He was not just scanning the battlefield for the familiar black and red of the Uruk-hai or the brave green and gold of the Rohirrim. His eyes searched for a gleam of silver, a flash of movement that would signal she was still there, still fighting.

Visenya.

Where is she?

His hands tightened around the reins as Firefoot snorted and shifted beneath him, eager for the command to charge. But Éomer hesitated, his sharp gaze sweeping the melee below again. He had not seen her since their forces had split, since she had ridden with Aragorn into Helm's Deep. His mind replayed the memory of her as she rode into battle—her silver hair flowing behind her like a banner, her eyes alight with the fire of a warrior born.

But now? He saw no sign of her. His stomach twisted, a feeling of unease settling over him. What if...

"No," he growled to himself, shaking off the thought. She was stronger than that, fiercer than any enemy they had faced. But still, the uncertainty gnawed at him.

Beside him, one of his captains rode up. "Marshal Éomer, the men await your command."

He nodded curtly, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze drifted over the battlefield once more. Where are you, Visenya?

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught his eye—silver hair, gleaming in the chaos below.

There!

His heart skipped a beat as he finally saw her, but relief was short-lived. Visenya was on foot, her white horse nowhere in sight, and she was surrounded by Uruk-hai. He saw her take a hit, knocked off balance, but she did not fall. She fought like a demon, her sword flashing as she cut down Uruk after Uruk, but the sheer number of enemies around her made Éomer's blood run cold.

Her horse must have fallen, and now she was stranded in the thick of it. But even on foot, she was a force to be reckoned with. Éomer watched, awe and fear mingling within him, as she whirled and slashed with deadly precision. Each strike of her blade sent an Uruk-hai crashing to the ground, and yet, more kept coming. She ducked under a brutal swing, her movements fluid and swift, and then brought her sword down on her attacker's neck with a savage cry.

But she was outnumbered, and Éomer could see that even her strength had limits. She was starting to slow, her movements just a fraction less sharp than before.

"Not today," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. He spurred Firefoot forward without another word, his Rohirrim following his lead as they charged down the slope.

As he neared her, Éomer raised his sword and bellowed, "Visenya!"

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking with his for just a moment before she swung her blade upward, deflecting an Uruk's axe. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, even as she parried another blow. The look in her eyes was wild and fierce, but there was something else too—relief.

He was almost upon her when he saw an Uruk raise its blade behind her, ready to strike. In a heartbeat, Éomer drove Firefoot straight into the fray, cutting the Uruk down with a single, powerful stroke. He reached out a hand as he rode by her, his voice booming over the chaos. "Up! Now!"

Visenya didn't hesitate. With one last brutal strike that felled another Uruk-hai, she sheathed her sword in a fluid motion and grabbed his extended hand. With a powerful heave, Éomer pulled her up onto Firefoot, her body sliding in behind him with practiced ease.

"It's been far too long since I had the pleasure of riding with you, Marshal," she said breathlessly, but there was a flirtatious edge to her tone. Her arms wrapped securely around his waist, her grip tight but confident. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me."

Éomer laughed, the sound full and rich despite the chaos of the battle. "As if I could forget the one woman who can cleave Uruks in half with such grace."

They were still in the thick of the fight, but together, they were unstoppable. From the back of Firefoot, Visenya slashed down at the Uruk-hai, her sword flashing in the dawn light, while Éomer swung his own blade in wide arcs. They moved as one, the rhythm of battle instinctive between them, each knowing where the other would strike without a word needing to be spoken.

The tide of Uruk-hai surged around them, but Firefoot, ever the mighty steed, charged through them without faltering. Éomer's sword cleaved through the ranks, and with Visenya at his back, their enemies fell in droves.

And then, in the distance, Éomer heard it—the blast of a horn. It was deep and thunderous, echoing across the battlefield like a call from the heavens.

The horn of Helm Hammerhand.

Éomer's heart swelled with hope as he looked just in front of the Keep. There, was Théoden King, his sword raised high. For a moment, Éomer's breath caught in his throat.

Théoden king stands alone.

But just as the thought crossed his mind, Éomer felt the ground tremble beneath him as the great host thundered over the hill behind him. 

The wizard who had brought him and his riders back to protect their people was a beacon of light in the dim dawn, mounted on Shadowfax, his staff held high. And beside him, the Riders of Rohan, Éomer's own men, thundered around him, their battle cries filling the air.

Not alone. Never alone.

Éomer's heart surged with pride as he raised his sword. "Rohirrim!" he roared, his voice carrying across the battlefield. The Riders at his back responded with a deafening cry, their swords raised high as they followed their marshal into battle.

He glanced down at Visenya, who was grinning wickedly, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the fight. "To the king!" she shouted, echoing his words with fierce enthusiasm.

Éomer laughed again, the sound rising above the din of battle as they charged together, cutting through the Uruk-hai like a blade through cloth. Firefoot galloped with relentless speed, his hooves trampling over the bodies of the fallen, while Éomer and Visenya fought as one, their strikes swift and deadly.

Ahead of them, Gandalf's charge met the Uruk-hai head-on. The sun, now fully risen, blazed behind the Riders of Rohan, momentarily blinding the Uruks as they tried to shield their eyes from the brilliant light. It was too late for them. The Rohirrim, led by Gandalf and Éomer, crashed into their ranks with the force of a hammer strike.

The battle that had seemed hopeless mere moments ago was turning. The Uruk-hai, so confident in their numbers and strength, began to falter under the onslaught of Rohan's finest. Their lines broke, and the once-mighty tide of darkness was scattered to the winds.

"Victory!" Éomer bellowed, raising his sword high as the last of the Uruk-hai fell. His voice rang out over the battlefield, carrying with it the weight of their triumph. "We have victory!"

Beside him, Visenya raised her own sword with a triumphant cry, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. They had done it. Against all odds, they had won.

As the sounds of battle faded and the sun continued to rise, Éomer looked out across the battlefield. Helm's Deep still stood. They still stood.

And Visenya... she was by his side.

He turned to her, his eyes softening for just a moment as he caught her gaze. "You fought well," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

She grinned, wiping the blood from her blade. "I always do, Marshal. But next time, try to keep up, will you?"

Éomer laughed again, the sound light and free. "Next time, I'll ride faster."

Together, they turned to face the rising sun, their hearts filled with hope for the battles still to come.