The Nazgûl's attack was not without effect. A few Uruk-hai took the opportunity to surge forward and seize Théodred, stopping him from retreating.
"Stay where you are, Prince of Rohan..."
"Argh!"
A great shout from the ramparts cut off the Uruks' action. At that moment a Dwarf leapt down and, with irresistible force, struck the handful of sneaking Uruks to the ground, covering Théodred's withdrawal.
"Go! Get away!"
"You'll have to thank me properly. I even broke my own rule to let people toss me over just now..."
The attack and defense dragged on for a long while.
The Nazgûl circled and hovered, and the roaring of the fell beast left everyone inside the walls unnerved. Many could barely hold their swords. Many parts of the defense faltered.
Théodred ran up and down the ramparts, raising his sword and shouting. Wherever he passed it was as if a flame had swept by. Soldiers there steeled themselves, rallied fiercely. Yet once he moved on, it did not take long for the terror to creep back over them.
That momentum could not be stopped.
Aragorn and Boromir tried to help, but most people didn't know them. Their shouting had limited effect.
Perhaps, among their own ranks, their mere presence would boost the men's morale.
But this was Rohan, and their renown did not run so far here.
One sortie repelled the attackers at the gate, but they reformed and struck again, fiercer, harder to hold.
Like a black tide, wave after wave beat against the walls and the gate.
Crash!
In the chaos the unsupported gate was finally broken.
That Nazgûl was too hard to deal with. If he came down, there would be many who would fight him, even Aragorn or Boromir alone might force him back.
But he was clever. He stayed flying, didn't come down, and kept sowing panic, disrupting the battle.
Even when he did drop down, it was like before, only picking his moments to strike, hitting key targets with sudden raids.
When the gate was shattered, the black tide of enemies poured in as if a drain had opened under the sea, flooding in madly.
The defenders inside the walls struggled to hold.
"Hold! Hold!"
Sensing the breach, Gimli, who had just withdrawn, was once again the first to throw himself forward. With him was the captain of the wall guards, Gamling. The two led the counterassault and barely held back the first rush.
Aragorn and Théoden also rushed up with men. They braced against the spears at the breach and tried to patch the gate, but it was all in vain.
A hoarse laugh rose from the Nazgûl in the air, a low sound that nevertheless echoed in everyone's hearts. Being able to fly was, at times, rather an unfair advantage. If he had come on horseback, he could not have been so brazen for so long.
The gate fight was desperate, and on the other side the wall that spanned the gorge was not faring well either. Encouraged by the Nazgûl, large numbers of enemies climbed up. Legolas and Boromir and the defenders there strove to hold them off.
"This can't go on."
Even Legolas, who was not as practiced in command as some of the other leaders, perceived the danger.
"There are too many of them. The warriors are worn out and there's a shadow on their hearts. At this rate, the gorge wall will be taken before long."
"What are we to do? Who can shoot that cursed Nazgûl down?"
Boromir kicked an Uruk aside and nimbly avoided an arrow. He looked around and agreed with Legolas.
But agreement alone does nothing. They needed a plan.
With his sword he felled another Uruk charging up and said, "If he comes down, I'll go and cut him to pieces."
"Withdraw to the inner keep, concentrate the defense!"
At that moment, an order came through.
The gate could not be held.
"I've heard they say the Hornburg has never fallen, but I have lost my confidence now."
Within the high walls of the inner keep, they were able to catch their breath for a brief moment, and the gathered warriors began to discuss what to do next.
Théoden gazed out at the pitch-black night and murmured with emotion, "The world has changed. What once seemed unbreakable now proves unreliable."
"We could wait until dawn," someone suggested.
"It won't help."
Though he hated to dampen their spirits, Aragorn had to speak the truth.
"These Uruks are not like ordinary orcs. They do not fear sunlight. Even under its direct glare they will not weaken."
"Then we wait for dawn," Théoden suddenly said.
Aragorn turned toward him, wondering if he hadn't heard what was just said.
"I know," Théoden replied, drawing a deep breath. "They may not fear the sun, but our soldiers are trapped by darkness and fear. We cannot go on like this."
"When dawn comes, we sound the horn. We ride out and fight."
"Either we carve a path of blood through them, or we die a death worthy of song."
"But we will not stay here and let these cunning foes grind down the courage of our men. That path leads only to destruction."
"Let Helm Hammerhand's horn sound once more, in this valley of the kings... for the last time!"
As he spoke, Théoden stepped close to Aragorn and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"That horn's call shall bear witness to the moment when you and I draw our swords and ride together."
"My old friend."
Off to the side, Boromir watched the scene, thoughts stirring in his heart.
Given the long friendship between Aragorn and Théoden, if Aragorn were ever to return to Gondor and take the throne, Théoden would surely support him.
Without realizing it, Boromir found himself already thinking about Aragorn's future.
But clearly, now was not the time for such thoughts.
Boom!
The lightning in the sky suddenly turned a sickly green. The rain stopped, the clouds scattered, and in their place appeared the shadow of the Nazgûl.
He hovered midair, radiating malice without restraint. Raising the Morgul-blade high, he swung it forward.
Roar!
The Uruk army's morale surged. With them came the black-skinned Men of the East, charging toward the inner gate, battering it madly, scaling the walls.
Can we truly last until dawn?
The thought crept into more than one heart.
Despair began to grow.
Just as the men drew their weapons, preparing to rush out and fight once more...
Whoosh!
Suddenly, a sharp crack split the air, like a firework bursting in the sky.
The Nazgûl jerked his head around, and saw a blazing, flame-wreathed figure hurtling straight toward him. There was no time to dodge. In an instant, the two collided with a thunderous impact.
The enormous force sent both the fell beast and its dark rider crashing down, shattered and reeling.
A streak of orange flame arced through the sky, trailing a blazing tail of light. It tore the night apart, ripped through the darkness that loomed overhead, and at last, with a resounding crash, the creature, the Nazgûl, and the flaming figure all smashed into the mountainside, sending stone and rubble cascading down.
The broken rocks tumbled down the slope, scattering the armies below in panic.
They looked up in shock toward where the Nazgûl had fallen, momentarily forgetting even to attack.
The defenders of Helm's Deep turned their eyes the same way.
"It's time for you to leave the stage," a voice said.
From amid the wreckage, stepping over the motionless bodies of the beast and the Nazgûl, Garrett emerged, raising his greatsword high.
Behind him, from beyond the valley, a brilliant light flared, dazzling and pure.
Dawn?
No...
It was an army, a shining host bathed in the holy radiance conjured by a wizard, a vast silver-white host gleaming like sunlight on snow.