towers

helm’s deep 701
Even as they spoke there came a blare of trumpets. Then
there was a crash and a flash of flame and smoke. The waters
of the Deeping-stream poured out hissing and foaming: they
were choked no longer, a gaping hole was blasted in the wall.
A host of dark shapes poured in.
‘Devilry of Saruman!’ cried Aragorn. ‘They have crept in
the culvert again, while we talked, and they have lit the fire
of Orthanc beneath our feet. Elendil, Elendil!’ he shouted, as
he leaped down into the breach; but even as he did so a
hundred ladders were raised against the battlements. Over
the wall and under the wall the last assault came sweeping
like a dark wave upon a hill of sand. The defence was swept
away. Some of the Riders were driven back, further and
further into the Deep, falling and fighting as they gave way,
step by step, towards the caves. Others cut their way back
towards the citadel.
A broad stairway climbed from the Deep up to the Rock
and the rear-gate of the Hornburg. Near the bottom stood
Aragorn. In his hand still Andúril gleamed, and the terror of
the sword for a while held back the enemy, as one by one all
who could gain the stair passed up towards the gate. Behind
on the upper steps knelt Legolas. His bow was bent, but one
gleaned arrow was all that he had left, and he peered out
now, ready to shoot the first Orc that should dare to approach
the stair.
‘All who can have now got safe within, Aragorn,’ he called.
‘Come back!’
Aragorn turned and sped up the stair; but as he ran he
stumbled in his weariness. At once his enemies leapt forward.
Up came the Orcs, yelling, with their long arms stretched out
to seize him. The foremost fell with Legolas’ last arrow in his
throat, but the rest sprang over him. Then a great boulder,
cast from the outer wall above, crashed down upon the stair,
and hurled them back into the Deep. Aragorn gained the
door, and swiftly it clanged to behind him.
‘Things go ill, my friends,’ he said, wiping the sweat from
his brow with his arm.