"The vermine is a small black-and-white
relative of the lemming, found in the cold
Hublandish regions. Its skin is rare and
highly valued, especially by the vermine
itself; the selfish little bastard will do
anything rather than let go of it."

― Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

26. A Long Night

Catching rats, seriously? I'm a woman, not a cat. Kat peered suspiciously into the darkness of the cave entrance. How could they expect her to stay in a murky hole full of disgusting vermin, and miss all that was going on in the battle? And what if Gandalf returned, like he said he would? Kat had to be where Legolas was, so she could follow Gandalf again as soon as possible.

You will be safe here with the other women. And Gamling is right; if rats spoil the food, we cannot manage a lengthy siege. Look – Tommy has caught one already.

True enough; the black tomcat emerged from the darkness with a soggy rodent between his jaws, so large half of it dragged in the dirt between his paws. He dropped it at Legolas' feet with a triumphant meow. I brought you food, Blondy. Look how fat and tasty it is! I'm off to get more. See you soon. With another meow the cat proudly strutted back inside.

See? Be a good girl now and stay with Tommy. Legolas tried to put Kat down.

I want to be with you. She clung to his arms.

This is a war, and you have been assigned a task. With unnecessary force, Legolas lifted her by the scruff of her neck and firmly placed her on the ground. Gamling – and I – have more important things to worry about than catering to your preferences. Just do as you are told.

Kat stared at him, surprised over his outburst. Then she shook her head slowly. You can be a real jerk sometimes.

That makes two of us, then. He stomped off in a jingle of chainmail.

Kat looked at his retreating form, still angry, but also regretful. What if he was killed, and the last thing she had done was fighting with him? She would never forgive herself. Perhaps she should go after him and try to make up? But when he was in this mood, it would probably only make things worse. And if she tried to return to the parapet, Éomer or some other warrior would chase her off.

Turning back to the cave, Kat swallowed her annoyance and frustration, and went inside. What else could she do?

The entrance to the caves was naturally formed by the Deeping-stream, and had rough walls, which were damp and partly coated in an intricate pattern of lichen, fungi and algae. A narrow path sloped into the depth of the mountain. The massive oak gates blocking the passage were open and guarded by two Rohirrim men. They looked ancient; their faces were deeply creased and what little hair they still had was white and wispy.

"Here, Kitty, Kitty," said one – or at least she guessed he did; he spoke Rohan tongue like everyone around here. Kat ignored him and hurried past.

The temperature soon dropped to a fridge-like coolness, and for others without cat eyes it would have been total darkness down there. The ceiling was covered with long stalactites from which a steady drizzle of water dropped down, soon making her shiver in a combination of chill and discomfort. Cats and water were no good combination.

In alcoves on either side of the path, barrels and wooden boxes were stacked high; the food storage mentioned by Gamling. Kat heard the telltale patter of tiny feet from the many rodents making a feast of it.

Ignoring them too for now, Kat continued; if she had to be down here, she might as well explore the place.

She passed more alcoves and a few narrow side shafts, but they smelled empty and unused, except for a larger passage full of distressed cows, goats, sheep and even a few horses. Their bleats, moos and neighs followed her into the deep.

Soon Kat started to hear another sound drifting up from further inside; a continuous murmur of voices. The hiding women and children must be down there.

After a while the path widened and the ceiling disappeared far above. It was brighter now; a faint source of light ahead illuminated the walls, reflecting back from the clear water of the Deeping-stream and enhanced by millions of tiny specks of mica twinkling in the rock.

The Glittering Caves! The name was well chosen.

Then Kat entered a vast cavern, where many huge stalactites met the corresponding stalagmites protruding from the floor, forming thick, lumpy pillars surrounding a shallow lake, clean and blue-green as a swimming pool. The surfaces were even more glimmering in here, like the inside of a rock crystal, and it almost hurt her eyes to look at the dazzling scenery. A grand ballroom in a fine palace would have had a hard time matching the natural beauty of this place. Gimli would love to come here... If he survived.

The light she had seen before came from dripping wax candles and oil lanterns on one side of the cavern, around which scores of women and young children huddled. They looked absolutely terrified, especially the kids. Their eyes were large, and their dusty cheeks streaked with tears. The women probably were no less frightened though they tried to hide it; their husbands and fathers were out there, risking their lives every minute, and if they failed to hold the fort, soon enemies would pour into the caves. What they would do to those hiding here nobody could say, but Kat knew that women more often than not were considered spoils of war and that the winning troops would use them as they pleased. That, at least, was nothing she had to worry about in this form.

Then one of the children caught sight of Kat, and her worried little face broke into a smile. She pointed at Kat with a tiny finger and told her mother something in the Rohan language with an eager, high pitched voice that echoed between the walls. Around her the others looked too, and immediately more smiles blossomed as the young ones temporarily forgot their predicament.

Soon Kat was surrounded by a friendly crowd; petted by grubby hands and picked up by toddlers not much bigger than herself. She patiently allowed it. Like in Moria, she would be useful in just about the only way she could: a soft, furry comfort in the dark; someone to hug and cuddle with. Let Tommy take care of the rats.

/\_,,_..  /\_,,_/\
( ᵔᆽᵔ ) ( * ᴥ * )

Perched on top of the Deeping Wall, Legolas regarded the distant forest of torches that steadily approached. On either side of him, evenly spread out along the parapet, stood warriors in silent vigil; most of them either old men or young boys just like Gamling had said.

Legolas restlessly toyed with his bowstring as he peered into the darkness. The wait was straining his nerves, almost torturously so, but it could not be much longer until it started. Any moment now...

Gimli came to stand below. He peered through one of the arrowslits, stroking the smooth stone lovingly. "There is good rock here." If he had more dwarves to aid him, he could make the fortress truly impregnable.

"I do not like this place," said Legolas. It was an understatement; he hated it. "But you comfort me, Gimli." He was glad to have his friend and his axe here with him. He would have welcomed more of his kind – or, even better – a hundred Mirkwood archers. Some of the humans had bows, but much too few to defend a long wall like this.

Legolas mentally added that even a hundred archers probably wouldn't make much of a difference. If his father so emptied his entire realm they could not match the advancing host of Saruman in numbers. How had the wizard managed to muster such an enormous army?

A chill traveled down his spine. What if Helm's Deep would fall? He didn't want to die now, when he had just started to really live for the first time in his long life.

He glanced at the warrior next to him, a boy with a chin as smooth as an elf's and eyes wide with excitement. This boy had just started living too; literally, not only figuratively. Had he any idea what battle was like? Probably not, but he would soon find out. Blood would taint his young hands before sunrise.

Gamling should have put the boy in the Caves with the other children. Though, admittedly, if the fortress fell he would not be safer there. Perhaps it was best this way.

Thinking of the Caves, Legolas was reminded of his recent quarrel with Kat. He regretted his harsh words, but knew he had been right; she had been unreasonable and childish – on the verge of disobeying direct orders!

She would survive at least, even if Helm's Deep fell; Legolas couldn't imagine orcs paying much attention to a cat. It was a comforting thought. Still... How typical of her to make a fuss over her assignment and try following him here! Unless they had powers like Galadriel, neither cats nor women had any place in battle.

And a woman she was, indeed; he knew that only too well after seeing her reflection in the Mirror. The vision had haunted his dreams ever since.

Despite the unsuitable time and place, unbidden images sailed up before his vision: a heart-shaped face, with large, brown eyes shaded by dark lashes. Full lips. The tip of a rounded ear under long black hair, straight and smooth. And further down, those oh so interesting curves...

Why was the vision so hard to banish from his mind? His body reacted to it, especially at night. When he slept, his mind added things that never happened. In his dreams he didn't merely look.

Perhaps it was his guilt that made it so hard to forget? It had been an accident; she hadn't wanted anyone to see her nudity – and yet, he had looked. Far too long he had stared at her before he managed to turn his back and beg Galadriel to cover her up. Why had he done that? The second he saw her, he should have closed his eyes. But he hadn't.

Legolas prided himself in his self-control when it came to bodily needs. For long periods of time, he could easily go without food, water, sleep – and carnal gratification. Especially the latter, up until now.

Of course, like all young elves, he had had a phase when he turned his head after pretty ellith, and had dreams which made him wake up flustered and excited. But as with all phases, it had passed. He had seen his childhood friends marry, one after another, and a few of them even beget elflings. He could not understand it at all. Why create unnecessary bonds and worries for yourself?

No, he had always known he wanted something different. Adventure. Seeing new places, meeting new people. Achieving something that mattered, for real. And therefore, when ellith started to turn their heads after him, he had been flattered but paid them no attention in return. Rather, he had become used to it, even expecting that kind of reaction.

Was he conceited? Was that why the Valar had punished him with such a tempting vision? Or perhaps it was a trial. A test of his determination and reticence. If so – apart from having unsuitable thoughts and dreams – he was at no risk of failing the test. As long as Kat remained in her present shape, he was safe.

Though... What if Námo turned her back? If she was in her own body, and looked at him the way she often did, would he be able to resist the temptation to respond?

Yes. He was not a brutish animal, ruled by his desire – but it would certainly be much harder. And what if he didn't want to resist?

He saw himself taking her in his arms, tasting her inviting lips. His fingers trailing along her smooth, brown skin, exploring the curious shapes his own body lacked, and...

No. Battle was soon upon him, he wouldn't go there. Maybe if he lived to see another night, he could allow himself to fantasize about it. Just thoughts, of course, as always. Harmless daydreams. He didn't want her to change back. Or, she could, but not until she was safe in her own world – out of his reach.

Legolas was not the marrying kind, and that was that.

ʕll ಠ ʖ ಠ llʔ

The hours passed slowly, and Kat too was passed – from lap to lap. The children and even the women seemed to greatly appreciate her presence, and though she could not understand a word they said, Kat appreciated them too. She had badly missed being around children, and now their soft voices and giggles were like balm to her soul. Around them she could almost forget her anxiety and dispel the thoughts of her friends dying and bleeding. For short periods of time, at least.

Presently a small boy held her. He was curiously examining her necklace, turning it this way and that in the flickering candlelight, probably wondering who made it and why. It must look odd with an upside-down woman's face in a pendant around the neck of a cat.

With a twinge of pain Kat remembered the day Legolas had carved it for her, and how thoughtful he had been during the last day in Lothlórien. It felt like ages ago when they had been in that calm forest, where time passed in strange ways, and where the horrors of war seemed distant and surreal. There, Legolas had fangirled over trees and Gimli collected rocks, and Boromir and the hobbits had still been with them. They had all been safe.

Not so much now; outside, the battle was in full swing. Had any of her friends been killed yet? Was Legolas still alive? He had to be; the alternative was just too horrible to imagine.

Only a few sounds penetrated the massive mountain walls, but every once in a while faint yells, trumpet blasts and clangs of steel against steel echoed down through the passage. It appeared to be bad weather, for rolls of thunder boomed occasionally.

Suddenly a closer booming began; a persistent knocking of wood against wood. A battering ram? The women worriedly looked at each other, and a few of them bent their heads as if in prayer. Kat purred as loudly as she could, trying to at least calm the children, but it was hard to seem at ease when she was so agitated herself.

A distant battlecry drifted down to them; Kat recognized Aragorn's voice, and then Gimli's. The booming stopped at last and it became quiet again. Kat and the other women breathed out their relief; the men were still holding the enemy back. But for how long?

Too soon trumpets blared again, followed by a much louder, prolonged rumble, as of huge boulders crashing to the ground. The floor trembled with each bang and pebbles fell down from the ceiling.

Kat hissed in fright and felt her tail grow bushy; this reminded her of the gunshots that caused her to be sent to Middle-earth. The penned up cattle in the nearby chamber made terrified noises, and in the cavern the smallest children started to cry while their mothers desperately tried to hush them.

What had happened? If Kat didn't know better she would have thought it had been a bomb, but surely explosives were not invented here? Perhaps lightning had struck the mountain and caused a landslide, or something of that ilk.

She heard voices again; more yelling men and guttural growls that must be orcs, and to her dismay they were steadily coming closer. The metallic clang of weapons grew louder too, and soon many feet tramped down the tunnel.

Something small and black came darting into the cavern. There you are, my love! I have come to protect you. Tommy's fur was bristling and he had grown to twice his normal size.

You must tell me what happens out there. Where are your friends? Blondy and Hairy. Are they alright?

Hairy is coming here soon, with some humans, and they are fighting orcs. I haven't seen Blondy. Shall I go look for him? I can protect him too.

No. No, stay here. You can't fight orcs, though I admire your courage.

Pah! I can fight anything. You'll see!

The women had been murmuring and whispering while Kat and Tommy communicated, and to Kat's surprise they began to regroup. A few of the eldest gathered the children among them while the younger drew knives and picked up sticks Kat had not noticed until now. Their eyes were wide with fright, but they set their shoulders stubbornly when they advanced towards the exit. These women wouldn't sell themselves or their children cheap, that was obvious.

Kat followed behind the makeshift soldiers with Tommy at her side. Her heart pounded and her paws felt weak, but she had to be brave like them. If she could do anything to protect the children who had petted her all night, she must do it.

The advancing footsteps grew louder, and a group of men appeared from behind a turn in the tunnel. Kat recognized Éomer and Gamling among them, and last in line Gimli, his huge axe scarlet and dripping.

"Hello, Kat!" He grinned wildly at her, and a waft of his scent told her his emotions: tiredness, a dash of fear and not a little excitement. "I've hewn thirty-five orc necks. How many rats is your score? You can meow the count."

Kat looked blankly at him. Did he think this was a game, or what?

"No rats at all? Ah, I'm disappointed." He chuckled, and then turned back to the exit. "The enemy is close on our heel, but when they're all slewn you'll have plenty of time to catch up."

Éomer barked orders, and aided by the women his men began to build a barricade with boxes and barrels from the food storage. They had managed to make it around a meter high when the pursuers arrived.

Their rancid smell preceded the orcs, and soon Kat could see and hear them from between the two barrels where she hid. They growled like wild animals when they charged the defenders, showing their cruel fangs in faces twisted with frenzied rage.

"Khazâd! Khazâd!" yelled Gimli and jumped to stand in front of the makeshift wall. "Trying to beat a dwarf in his true element? Think again!"

And then the orcs were upon him.

/\_,,_.,  /\_,,_/\
( ò _ ó ) ( ò _ ó )

Squatting at the top of the stairs leading down behind the Weeping Wall, Legolas fought to keep his bowstring taut with fingers shaking in fatigue. He had nocked his last arrow – again, for he had already refilled his quiver once. At first he had emptied it on the tall orcs who tried to ram the gates of the Hornburg, and when he had found more arrows he used them on the smaller orcs climbing the parapet with ladders and grappling hooks.

A light drizzle poured into his eyes, gluing his lashes together annoyingly; the brunt of the thunderstorm had moved on and the sky was clearing, but the rain lingered. It mingled with the blood on the stone under his feet.

Some of it came from his last encounter; an orc he had stabbed in the belly. It had not been a clean kill, but he pushed the memory of the other's anguished screams behind a number. Thirty-nine. He had shot most of them with his Lórien bow and knifed the rest. That was good. He had beaten Gimli's score.

Gimli was probably catching up though; he was in the thick of battle somewhere down in the Deep. The sly orcs had crawled through the culvert where the stream passed under it, and when Gamling and Gimli blocked the opening with rubble, the enemy had blasted away an entire segment of the Wall with magical fire. A 'devilry of Saruman,' Aragorn had called it.

Now Éomer, Gimli, Aragorn and several others were fighting by the breach to hold back the tidal wave of orcs pouring inside, and Legolas had remained on the stairs to cover their backs. If only he had more arrows! But there was no time to search through the corpses.

The skirmish down there did not seem to go well, for a line of men scurried up the stairs, filing past him to the safety of the Hornburg. He strained his eyes to make out his friends among them but without success. Then he caught sight of Aragorn near the bottom of the stairs, fencing several orcs at the same time.

"Come back," Legolas yelled, cupping his mouth to make his voice carry through the clamor.

Aragorn turned to ascend, but lost his balance halfway up. Immediately a band of orcs threw themselves at him, and Legolas quickly released his last arrow. It struck the first one straight through his throat, and he fell back with blood gushing all over his torso.

Forty.

A man nearby on the parapet threw a large rock at the rest of Aragorn's assailers; they tumbled to the ground in a heap of arms and legs.

Aragorn could finally scramble up the last steps and shut the gate behind him. He wiped his soaked face. "Things go ill, my friends."

Despite the other's somber words, Legolas felt heartened by the mere sight of the man. He somehow emitted courage and hope just by being there. But then a thought struck him, and he anxiously looked around. "Where is Gimli?"

This Aragorn could not say. They had been separated down there, but he thought the dwarf might have made it to the Caves where he would be safe for a while.

Legolas nodded, trying to hide the surge of worry blossoming in his chest. The Caves. Kat. What if the enemy used Saruman's magic fire and blew them open too? Then he would lose both her and Gimli in one go. His closest friends.

But there was no time to think of that; no time to worry. With the enemy holding part of the Deeping Wall, time was running out for all of them.

ʕll u _ u llʔ

In the confinement of the cave passage, the battle quickly became chaotic and confusing from Kat's low vantagepoint. Screams and curses echoed between the rock walls, and the floor got slippery with blood and other body fluids.

Gimli led the defence, and he was soon surrounded by piles of cut-off limbs and corpses. His deep voice counting out the number of kills was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Éomer was no less fearsome. The horse lord grimly fenced off orc after orc, his sword cutting through their chainmail like it was tinfoil.

Behind the barricade, the women slashed with their knives and pounded their sticks against any orcs who made it past the warriors in the front. Even Tommy helped, clawing eyes and biting exposed limbs, and after watching him for a short while Kat swallowed her fear and joined in.

The first orc she attacked screamed in shock when her tiny but sharp fangs sank into his pointed ear. He had tried to crawl between two barrels, and now he quickly backed out, clutching his bleeding face. Another took his place, but a paw full of claws made him change his mind. Before they could try again Éomer's long sword sliced their heads off.

It worked! As small as she was, Kat managed to hold her stance and defend her position – not by killing anyone, but by driving the foes back to be eliminated by the Rohirrim and Gimli. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and the tangy, coppery taste of orc blood on her tongue filled her with an almost ecstatic lust to kill. Three. Four. Five!

Then suddenly a new enemy came through the barrels; a man, not an orc. He was young, probably younger than she, with tanned skin and brown eyes, made up to look more dangerous by bold dashes of white paint on his cheeks.

She hesitated. The orcs were animal-like, but this was a human.

The man crawled past her and jumped onto his feet behind the barricade. He immediately grappled one of the women, twisting the knife from her hand and raising his short sword to stab her heart. "Take that, strawhead!" he growled in broken Westron.

Kat didn't pause to think. Pouncing on the man from behind, she embedded her teeth deeply in his neck. He howled in pain and ripped her off, throwing her away from him. She hit her head hard on one of the boxes, temporarily becoming stunned, but through her daze she saw several women close in on the man and bring him down; her distraction had been enough to make him unbalanced. When they had finished, he lay on his back in a puddle of blood, eyes glazed and unseeing.

With a pounding head, Kat resumed her position between the barrels, but soon realized there were no more enemies. Had they defeated them already?

"Let's return to the Wall," cried Éomer. "Forth Eorlingas!"

"Forth Eorlingas!" agreed his comrades.

"Khazâd ai-mênu!" roared Gimli.

Many of them were wounded and all looked tired, but nevertheless they regrouped and left without further ado. The women meanwhile retreated to the cavern where their children were, but Kat followed the men and the dwarf. She had to see what was happening out there.

They walked slowly, everyone alert and ready in case of an ambush. The path was littered with corpses, orcs mostly, but a few Rohirrim as well. Gamling covered the face of each one in passing.

At the entrance, the two old men who had guarded it lay dead too, and when Gamling saw to one of them Kat could hear him emit a strangled sob.

"Who was he?" murmured Gimli kindly, putting his bloodstained hand on the other.

"My uncle. Farbror."

Gimli squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

They continued out in the narrow cleft between the mountains. The sky had a pale gray hue; sunrise was near. It had been the longest night Kat could remember, but it was still not over.

The area outside the Caves was empty, but on the Deeping Wall was a crowd of orcs, trying to break the door into the Hornburg. Aragorn must stand on the other side, for Kat heard his voice ringing across the valley. It sounded like he held a speech to the enemy, but they seemed not impressed. Jeering, taunting voices replied, and Kat was almost relieved she could not hear what they said.

A deafening explosion erupted, and again the ground trembled alarmingly as part of the parapet crumbled into a cloud of dust and rubble. From the rock walls large boulders came loose and tumbled down into the Deep, one of them missing Éomer's small troop by meters only.

Kat stared at the Wall in dismay. That had not been the lightning; Saruman did have bombs! And now he had blown up Aragorn.

Then they were truly doomed. Helm's Deep was no refuge against an enemy with explosives – rather it was a trap. The enemy blocked the only way out, and with their bombs they could blast them all into oblivion.

Signing the cross over her heart with her paw, Kat formed a silent prayer. Only a miracle could save them now.

/\_,,_.,
( o _ o )

Another huge rumble, and Helm's Gate fell. The orcs and wild men cheered and banged their shields, but Aragorn had already jumped down and came running into the tower.

Legolas sat on Arod among the Rohirrim riders, trying to calm his nervous steed while mentally preparing himself to die. He managed neither very well.

His heartbeat roared in his ears and his throat felt too tight. He just wanted to live; here in Middle-earth, not in the Undying Lands. There was so much more to see, so much more to do. But instead his tale would end tonight.

King Théoden would lead them in a final charge, so they could take as many foes with them as possible when they went under. Helm's Deep would fall, but not without a great cost for Saruman.

You have been a good horse. When I am slain, escape to the valley and stay far away from orcs.

Arod tossed his head. I will run like the wind, and bear you with me. We flee together.

Nay, dear Arod. I cannot. I must stay and fight, and see this through to the end.

Then a new sound made him look up at the Hornburg in wonder. A horn. Helm's horn! Just like Éomer had described earlier, it rang and echoed between the cliffs all over the valley, as if a myriad of defenders hid among them. Back and forth the sound travelled, and it did not die.

With the gate down, the orcs had been on the verge of storming the tower, but now they kneeled on the ground, covering their ears and whimpering in terror.

"Forth Eorlingas!" cried Théoden, and led the way at a gallop down the sloping ramp and out into the crawling anthill of enemies.

"Andúril for the Dúnedain!" Aragorn rode to take his place on his right.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Legolas whispered, closing his eyes briefly before bidding Arod to follow. Only if the Valar intervened could he survive this.

The riders charged at speed, and though they were not many, they cut easily through the masses and left a trail of corpses in their wake. The orcs were still daunted by the unceasing horn blows, and the fury of the horse lords scared them further. Many fled before them, pouring through the opening in the Dike and out in the valley like frightened rabbits.

Legolas could not easily use his knife from horseback and still had no arrows, so he resorted to letting Arod do the job alone, trampling and kicking anyone in his path.

Then one of the tall orcs stood right in front of him, an uruk-hai as he had heard them call themselves. On his shield the white hand of Saruman shone in the first light of dawn.

Grasping Arod's mane in one hand, Legolas leaned out on one side, trying to stab the uruk in his broad neck. The other easily parried his knife and made a huge swipe with his curved scimitar. Legolas blocked the counterstrike with his shield, feeling the shock of impact transplant up along his shoulder painfully. The monster was as strong as a moose!

Then Arod took the opportunity to rear up and kick the uruk's arm with his front foot. Wailing in pain he dropped his weapon, and Legolas made a new attempt. This time he succeeded; his sharp knife sank deep and cut the uruk's jugular.

Forty-one. He didn't count the ones Arod had trod down.

The riders continued and came out through the gap in the earthen wall of Helm's Dike, but there they stopped, staring ahead in wonder. Something strange and immensely beautiful had materialized, where yesterday there had only been grass and hills. A forest!

Legolas could not take his eyes from it. It seemed to be ancient, despite its recent arrival, and the thick, gnarled roots of the many trees sunk deep into the grass. He longed to go in there and explore, but now the orcs were fleeing in the only remaining direction and Théoden took up the chase.

He had to follow. Still the enemy host was numerous, still the orcs could fall back and regroup, and with their magic fire they could still destroy the fortress.

The riders went on, nudging their tired, foaming horses to hurry. The orcs ran ahead, but suddenly they stopped again. Something white had appeared right before them, lit from behind by the rising sun – a white rider.

"Mithrandir!" Legolas felt a flood of relief. The white wizard had returned, just like he said he would, and made a dramatic entrance as was his habit!

Men appeared behind the wizard, a great number of footmen led by a rider with a crimson shield.

"Erkenbrand!" shouted the Rohirrim beside Legolas. The Lord of Helm's Deep had come at last; he was alive, and so was the main part of the Rohan army.

Now all the enemy's escape routes were blocked. From the Deep came Théoden and his riders, and from the east Mithrandir, Erkenbrand and probably a thousand of soldiers, and in the west were the mysterious trees.

After a moment's hesitation, the desperate orcs ran into the forest, and disappeared in the darkness under its eaves. The trees shook and trembled, and instinctively the defenders knew the enemy had been taken care of. They would never come out from there.

The sun rose. At last the long night was over, and so was the Battle of Helm's Deep. A jubilant exhilaration exploded in Legolas' chest; he had survived! They had won. Against all odds they had won.

His relief was short-lived, however, when he remembered those hiding in the Caves. The taste of victory immediately grew bitter. Had the enemy blown open the entrance and killed his friends? He imagined them covered in stones and rubble, choking with lungs full of dust or smashed flat by the heavy pressure of rock, and shuddered. What a horrible way to die.

Slowly he turned his horse to go check, preparing himself for the worst.

"Legolas! Legolas my lad!" It was Gimli's voice, coming from behind the Dike.

Thank the Valar; he had survived! Tears pricked the corners of Legolas' eyes, and he quickly wiped them away before the other could see.

Gimli's forehead was bound with linen, but he didn't seem to be badly hurt. "Forty-two, Master Legolas!" He grinned proudly and his deep set eyes sparkled.

Legolas still only had forty-one, but who cared? His friend was alive, and that was the important thing. One of his friends, that was.

"Were you in the Caves?" he asked, suddenly nervous again.

"Caves! Ah, don't call them that. They are the marvels of the Northern World! Deep and immensely beautiful."

"I take your word for it. Then... Then you must have seen Kat. Was she still hiding with the women?"

"Hiding?" His shoulders shook in a hearty laugh. "There's some iron in the Rohirrim women, let me tell you, and Kat is no less courageous. I saw her attack a full-grown man and bite his neck like a wolf. Ah! Here she comes now. Let her tell you herself."

He turned to look where the dwarf pointed, feeling a warmth in his chest and new tears burning when he watched the small animal trot over to him.

She lived. His little human lived.

Though he knew it was very unseemly to pick up and hug a woman, he did it anyway. Quickly dismounting, he took her into his arms and buried his nose in her soft fur. He found no words, and neither did she, but she began to purr and then he knew that no quarrel remained between them.

A/N:

Sorry this took a while to write, but I hope it was worth the wait, and that you liked some of Legolas' point of view. There will be more of that soon. :)

Nothing is told in the book about what happened in the Glittering Caves; only that Éomer, Gamling and Gimli fought there. But the women could very well have taken part in the battle too. Or what do you think?