My heart was thumping, I looked around me for assurance but found the others were just as scared as I was. This was to be the biggest moment in my life, a battle to determine who was stronger, Saruman or our noble king, Théoden. At that moment the odds were against us, two hundred against ten thousand? I was having doubts that we’d even survive the night. There were strange people amongst us a dwarf, an elf and a man who shone with power; I was in awe whenever they were present. Eomer seemed to know them and his trust was not so easily given. I sighed this would be the night when the strength of good rose up against the strength of evil, too many of us were young or old, I had lost my brother to the orcs when they attacked the king’s son Théodred. I mourned him and I was to have my vengeance this night, I did not care if I died as long as his memory was avenged, his spirit would be able to rest. I thought back on the day they found him, he had been trying to protect the prince but was skewered with orc spears. I was young and did not want to see it but I knew I must, carefully I counted the wounds, five. I had to kill five orcs, and this night was my chance.

The ladders came, as fast as we cut one down two took its place. The boy beside me was cut to pieces, he had been but twelve years old. It made my blood boil, were the young to die so no new generations could be made? People always hope they will never see times such as these, I was not so lucky. My mind was a frenzy, never had I seen so much death, so much blood! What was this for? What could we do against such mindless hate? They would keep coming no matter what we did to them, they just didn’t care. The strange man, Aragorn and Eomer had snuck up behind the orcs. There was a secret door that led down to the gate and they had used it, they took the orcs by surprise but were countered. The foul creatures seemed to shy from Aragorn’s sword, it had a sort of erethreal power that I could feel even from the battlements. His war cry gave me heart and I fought on, oblivious to any wounds I got knowing only that I had to help in some way.

Many thoughts go through your head as you fight, fear, anger, pain. then it all just disappears because you don’t have the strength to think, only fight. I had no thoughts as I cut orcs limb from limb, I had no regrets as I pushed back ladders watching the vile orcs crumple to the ground and I had no remorse as I hacked wild men to pieces and left them to rot, it didn’t hit me until later at how much damage I had done. A sudden explosion and the walls of Helm’s Deep fell, I was shocked. Orcs and wild men poured in like ants over a picnic lunch, we were doomed but I refused to see it. The dwarf had been fighting on the wall alongside me but now he was on the ground being forced back to the caves. He was a very good fighter and did not seem to be loosing strength, not so for me. Mine was ebbing as daylight came, there is only so long that a fit young man can fight without rest. I was also missing easy shots; the orcs were blocking me now, laughing and taunting me. It was worse than being killed out right. As the sun hit the eastern slopes a man on a horse could be seen, I would have known that horse anywhere for my father had raised him from a foal. Shadowfax, king of horses and last of his kind, the man must then be Gandalf for the horse would no longer let any other man touch him. The sight gave me hope and my heart rose as I saw a great troop of men behind him, Erkenbrand Lord of Westfold had come. We were saved.

I never thought I would survive that fateful night and I didn’t think that Aragorn had been watching me. He approached me after the battle was won and told me he admired my courage and loyalty, he asked my name. I was surprised, this strong, important man was complimenting me. “Haéthìl,” I replied. Théoden asked if I would ride with him and I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. Maybe I won’t survive the next battle but I earned a new status amongst the men of Rohan, I am Haéthìl son of Hamìl.