By Kielle ([email protected])
Author's Note: Just a vignette inspired by my fourth viewing of "The Two Towers," when it occurred to me that Helm's Deep might have been lost had Eomer's men been there in the first place -- it was no place for a cavalry charge from within, and an earlier attempt merely would have broken and foundered against that army. Timing is everything...
Disclaimer: All is Tolkien's, or perhaps in this case rather Peter Jackson's. Yes, I am intimately versed in book canon, but this is pure movieverse. Feedback is loved but not expected. Ask before archiving. If you want more, visit www.kinslayer.com -- my fanfic is stored on the Twelfth Ring subsite.
Faster. Must ride faster.
Even in the moonless dark we know what has passed this way before us. The air reeks of foul things best met only from the other end of a spear; our horses, though sure-footed and sharp-eyed, stumble in deep muddy ruts left by crude iron boots and heavy wheels of war. A vast terrible army marched here more than a day back...and that was more than enough time for such a host to crush everything we hold dear.
If only I had scorned the worm's oily threats! If only I had stayed near my city, my people, my family! But Gandalf insists there is a reason for everything. Then again, he says many things:
That luck smiled when I used my exile to muster still-loyal Riders to my banner.
That our coming will be too late for many, yes, but that hope has not yet fallen and victory may yet be wrenched from the jaws of death.
And that we must arrive with the rising of the sun. A minute too late, he tells us, and all shall be lost.
I do not understand, but I have always followed my heart, and its advice is as clear as ever. Just as I knew I could trust the word of a ragged dark-haired stranger who claimed to be King, somehow I now know that I must not question the wisdom of the White Rider.
And, somehow, I ride faster.