Prologue

Night held sway over the land of Rohan as a dark figure flitted over the ground. Anyone except maybe the keen eagle would have dismissed the shadow as it sped towards the mountains. If they had looked closer they might have realized that it was a warrior on a white horse. There was a hint of gold, indicating armor of a high-ranking soldier. The horse was a thoroughbred, its sleek white coat and mane flying in the wind. They were headed towards Helm’s Deep it seemed, as their path was angled in that general direction. Sure enough, if an observer had followed them far enough they would have seen that their path led them directly to the mountain fortress. About a mile from Helm’s Deep after a long hard ride the rider pulled the horse short. The person dismounted and then leaned against the horse for a bit to catch their breath. After a short period of rest the person stood up again and grabbed the horse’s halter and whispered in its ear.
“Go, Lossë. My father has more need of you than I. Farewell faithful friend.”
They slapped the horse’s flank to get it going and it shot off like an arrow from a bow, disappearing from sight in an instant. The figure watched the horse for a while and then turned and started walking towards the Deeping-coomb. There would be little sleep for this warrior tonight. Already the air was thick with the tension of the oncoming battle. A black cloud passed over the moon and when it had passed, the figure was gone, blended into the shadows of the sable night.