The Battle of Helm's Deep

The Battle of Helm's Deep is the decisive military confrontation of the War of the Ring in Rohan, a desperate night-long siege in which the Rohirrim, reinforced by Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, defend the ancient fortress of the Hornburg against the overwhelming army of Saruman, only to be saved at dawn by the arrival of Gandalf the White with Erkenbrand's relief force and the mysterious Huorns from Fangorn Forest. The battle tests the courage of the defenders to its breaking point, transforms the character of King Théoden, and marks the first major defeat of Saruman's forces, a victory that shifts the strategic balance in the West before the final confrontation with Mordor.

The Assault and the Defence

The battle began just past midnight under a sky utterly dark and still, heavy with the foreboding of storm. Suddenly the clouds were seared by a blinding flash of branched lightning that smote the eastward hills, and for a staring moment the watchers on the walls saw the space between them and the Dike boiling and crawling with black shapes: squat and broad Orcs, tall and grim Uruk-hai with high helms and sable shields, hundreds and hundreds more pouring over the Dike and through the breach. The dark tide flowed up to the walls from cliff to cliff. Thunder rolled in the valley, and rain came lashing down. Arrows thick as the rain came whistling over the battlements, falling clinking and glancing on the stones. The assault on Helm's Deep had begun, but no sound or challenge was heard within; no answering arrows came. The assailing hosts halted, foiled by the silent menace of rock and wall. Ever and again the lightning tore aside the darkness, and the Orcs screamed, waving spear and sword, and shooting a cloud of arrows at any that stood revealed upon the battlements. Brazen trumpets sounded, and the enemy surged forward, some against the Deeping Wall, others towards the causeway and the ramp that led up to the Hornburg-gates. There the hugest Orcs were mustered, and the wild men of the Dunland fells. A moment they hesitated and then on they came. The lightning flashed, and blazoned upon every helm and shield the ghastly hand of Isengard was seen. They reached the summit of the rock; they drove towards the gates. Then at last an answer came: a storm of arrows met them, and a hail of stones. They wavered, broke, and fled back; and then charged again, broke and charged again; and each time, like the incoming sea, they halted at a higher point. Again trumpets rang, and a press of roaring men leaped forth, holding their great shields above them like a roof, while in their midst they bore two trunks of mighty trees. Behind them orc-archers crowded, sending a hail of darts against the bowmen on the walls. They gained the gates. The trees, swung by strong arms, smote the timbers with a rending boom. If any man fell, crushed by a stone hurtling from above, two others sprang to take his place. Again and again the great rams swung and crashed.

The Sortie and the Breach

Éomer and Aragorn stood together on the Deeping Wall. They heard the roar of voices and the thudding of the rams; and then in a sudden flash of light they beheld the peril of the gates. Running like fire, they sped along the wall, up the steps, and passed into the outer court upon the Rock. As they ran they gathered a handful of stout swordsmen. There was a small postern-door that opened in an angle of the burg-wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet it. On that side a narrow path ran round towards the great gate, between the wall and the sheer brink of the Rock. Together Éomer and Aragorn sprang through the door, their men close behind. The two swords flashed from the sheath as one. Charging from the side, they hurled themselves upon the wild men. Andúril rose and fell, gleaming with white fire. A shout went up from wall and tower: 'Andúril! Andúril goes to war. The Blade that was Broken shines again!' Dismayed, the rammers let fall the trees and turned to fight; but the wall of their shields was broken as by a lightning-stroke, and they were swept away, hewn down, or cast over the Rock into the stony stream below. The orc-archers shot wildly and then fled. For a moment Éomer and Aragorn halted before the gates. The thunder was rumbling in the distance now. The lightning flickered still, far off among the mountains in the South. A keen wind was blowing from the North again. The clouds were torn and drifting, and stars peeped out; and above the hills of the Coomb-side the westering moon rode, glimmering yellow in the storm-wrack. The doors, however, were badly damaged; their great hinges and iron bars were wrenched and bent, and many of their timbers were cracked. The sortie gained only a brief respite. The assault on the gates was redoubled. Against the Deeping Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a sea. Orcs and hillmen swarmed about its feet from end to end. Ropes with grappling hooks were hurled over the parapet faster than men could cut them or fling them back. Hundreds of long ladders were lifted up. Many were cast down in ruin, but many more replaced them, and Orcs sprang up them like apes in the dark forests of the South. Before the wall's foot the dead and broken were piled like shingle in a storm; ever higher rose the hideous mounds, and still the enemy came on. The men of Rohan grew weary. All their arrows were spent, and every shaft was shot; their swords were notched, and their shields were riven. Three times Aragorn and Éomer rallied them, and three times Andúril flamed in a desperate charge that drove the enemy from the wall. Then a clamour arose in the Deep behind. Orcs had crept like rats through the culvert through which the stream flowed out. There they had gathered in the shadow of the cliffs, until the assault above was hottest and nearly all the men of the defence had rushed to the wall's top. Then they sprang out. Already some had passed into the jaws of the Deep and were among the horses, fighting with the guards. Down from the wall leapt Gimli with a fierce cry that echoed in the cliffs. 'Khazâd! Khazâd!' He soon had work enough. Gamling the Old looked down from the Hornburg, hearing the great voice of the dwarf above all the tumult. 'The Orcs are in the Deep!' he cried. 'Helm! Helm! Forth Helmingas!' he shouted as he leaped down the stair from the Rock with many men of Westfold at his back. Their onset was fierce and sudden, and the Orcs gave way before them. Ere long they were hemmed in in the narrows of the gorge, and all were slain or driven shrieking into the chasm of the Deep to fall before the guardians of the hidden caves. Gimli hewed a two-handed stroke and laid the last Orc before his feet, bringing his count to twenty-one. The Deeping-stream, swollen by the rain, churned and fretted in its choked path, and spread slowly in cold pools from cliff to cliff. There was for a while a lull in the assault, since the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled. But the enemy had brought a devilry from Orthanc: a blasting fire. With a crash and a flash of flame and smoke, 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.' 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. Aragorn gained the door of the Hornburg, and swiftly it clanged to behind him. 'Things go ill, my friends,' he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm. The Deeping Wall was taken, and all the defence swept away; but many had escaped hither to the Rock. Éomer, however, had not reached the Hornburg; he was last seen gathering men about him and fighting in the mouth of the Deep, with Gamling and the dwarf.

The Dawn and the Relief

Aragorn stood above the great gates, heedless of the darts of the enemy. As he looked forth he saw the eastern sky grow pale. Then he raised his empty hand, palm outward in token of parley. The Orcs yelled and jeered. 'What of the dawn?' they jeered. 'We are the Uruk-hai: we do not stop the fight for night or day, for fair weather or for storm. We come to kill, by sun or moon. What of the dawn?' 'None knows what the new day shall bring him,' said Aragorn. 'Get you gone, ere it turn to your evil.' So great a power and royalty was revealed in Aragorn, as he stood there alone above the ruined gates before the host of his enemies, that many of the wild men paused, and looked back over their shoulders to the valley, and some looked up doubtfully at the sky. But the Orcs laughed with loud voices; and a hail of darts and arrows whistled over the wall, as Aragorn leaped down. There was a roar and a blast of fire. The archway of the gate above which he had stood a moment before crumbled and crashed in smoke and dust. But even as the gate fell, and the Orcs about it yelled, preparing to charge, a murmur arose behind them, like a wind in the distance, and it grew to a clamour of many voices crying strange news in the dawn. The Orcs upon the Rock, hearing the rumour of dismay, wavered and looked back. And then, sudden and terrible, from the tower above, the sound of the great horn of Helm rang out. All that heard that sound trembled. Many of the Orcs cast themselves on their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Back from the Deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood. But on the walls men looked up, listening with wonder; for the echoes did not die. Ever the hornblasts wound on among the hills; nearer now and louder they answered one to another, blowing fierce and free. 'Helm! Helm!' the Riders shouted. 'Helm is arisen and comes back to war. Helm for Théoden King!' And with that shout the king came. His horse was white as snow, golden was his shield, and his spear was long. At his right hand was Aragorn, Elendil's heir, behind him rode the lords of the House of Eorl the Young. Light sprang in the sky. Night departed. 'Forth Eorlingas!' With a cry and a great noise they charged. Down from the gates they roared, over the causeway they swept, and they drove through the hosts of Isengard as a wind among grass. Behind them from the Deep came the stern cries of men issuing from the caves, driving forth the enemy. Out poured all the men that were left upon the Rock. And ever the sound of blowing horns echoed in the hills. On they rode, the king and his companions. Captains and champions fell or fled before them. Neither orc nor man withstood them. Their backs were to the swords and spears of the Riders, and their faces to the valley. They cried and wailed, for fear and great wonder had come upon them with the rising of the day. So King Théoden rode from Helm's Gate and clove his path to the great Dike. There the company halted. Light grew bright about them. Shafts of the sun flared above the eastern hills and glimmered on their spears. But they sat silent on their horses, and they gazed down upon the Deeping-coomb. The land had changed. Where before the green dale had lain, its grassy slopes lapping the ever-mounting hills, there now a forest loomed. Great trees, bare and silent, stood, rank on rank, with tangled bough and hoary head; their twisted roots were buried in the long green grass. Darkness was under them. Between the Dike and the eaves of that nameless wood only two open furlongs lay. There now cowered the proud hosts of Saruman, in terror of the king and in terror of the trees. They streamed down from Helm's Gate until all above the Dike was empty of them, but below it they were packed like swarming flies. Vainly they crawled and clambered about the walls of the coomb, seeking to escape. Upon the east too sheer and stony was the valley's side; upon the left, from the west, their final doom approached. There suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in white, shining in the rising sun. Over the low hills the horns were sounding. Behind him, hastening down the long slopes, were a thousand men on foot; their swords were in their hands. Amid them strode a man tall and strong. His shield was red. As he came to the valley's brink, he set to his lips a great black horn and blew a ringing blast. 'Erkenbrand!' the Riders shouted. 'Erkenbrand!' 'Behold the White Rider!' cried Aragorn. 'Gandalf is come again!' The hosts of Isengard roared, swaying this way and that, turning from fear to fear. Again the horn sounded from the tower. Down through the breach of the Dike charged the king's company. Down from the hills leaped Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold. Down leaped Shadowfax, like a deer that runs surefooted in the mountains. The White Rider was upon them, and the terror of his coming filled the enemy with madness. The wild men fell on their faces before him. The Orcs reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and spear. Like a black smoke driven by a mounting wind they fled. Wailing they passed under the waiting shadow of the trees; and from that shadow none ever came again.

Consequences and Significance

The victory at Helm's Deep was complete and decisive. No Orcs remained alive; their bodies were uncounted. A great many of the hillmen had given themselves up, and they were afraid, and cried for mercy. The Men of the Mark took their weapons from them, and set them to work repairing the evil in which they had joined. The men of Dunland were amazed; for Saruman had told them that the men of Rohan were cruel and burned their captives alive. In the midst of the field before the Hornburg two mounds were raised, and beneath them were laid all the Riders of the Mark who fell in the defence, those of the East Dales upon one side, and those of Westfold upon the other. But the men of Dunland were set apart in a mound below the Dike. In a grave alone under the shadow of the Hornburg lay Háma, captain of the King's guard. He fell before the Gate. The Orcs were piled in great heaps, away from the mounds of Men, not far from the eaves of the forest. The people were troubled in their minds; for the heaps of carrion were too great for burial or for burning. They had little wood for firing, and none would have dared to take an axe to the strange trees, even if Gandalf had not warned them to hurt neither bark nor bough at their great peril. 'Let the Orcs lie,' said Gandalf. 'The morning may bring new counsel.' The slain Orcs were gone the next morning, and the trees also. Far down into the valley of the Deep the grass was crushed and trampled brown, as if giant herdsmen had pastured great droves of cattle there; but a mile below the Dike a huge pit had been delved in the earth, and over it stones were piled into a hill. Men believed that the Orcs whom they had slain were buried there; but whether those who had fled into the wood were with them, none could say, for no man ever set foot upon that hill. The Death Down it was afterwards called, and no grass would grow there. But the strange trees were never seen in Deeping-coomb again; they had returned at night, and had gone far away to the dark dales of Fangorn. Thus they were revenged upon the Orcs. The battle broke the power of Saruman in the field, forcing him to retreat to Isengard where he would soon face the wrath of the Ents. It also restored Théoden's confidence and united Rohan behind him for the coming march to Gondor. The victory was won by a combination of desperate valour, the leadership of Aragorn and Gandalf, and the intervention of powers beyond the reckoning of Saruman: the ancient magic of the Huorns and the timely return of the White Rider.