Helm’s Deep

           ThesunwasalreadywesteringastheyrodefromEdoras,andthelightofitwasintheireyes,turningalltherollingfieldsofRohantoagoldenhaze.Therewasabeatenway,north-westwardalongthefoot-hillsoftheWhiteMountains,andthistheyfollowed,upanddowninagreencountry,crossingsmallswiftstreamsbymanyfords.FaraheadandtotheirrighttheMistyMountainsloomed;everdarkerandtallertheygrewasthemileswentby.Thesunwentslowlydownbeforethem.Eveningcamebehind.

           Thehostrodeon.Needdrovethem.Fearingtocometoolate,theyrodewithallthespeedtheycould,pausingseldom.SwiftandenduringwerethesteedsofRohan,butthereweremanyleaguestogo.Fortyleaguesandmoreitwas,asabirdflies,fromEdorastothefordsoftheIsen,wheretheyhopedtofindtheking’smenthatheldbackthehostsofSaruman.

           Nightclosedaboutthem.Atlasttheyhaltedtomaketheircamp.Theyhadriddenforsomefivehoursandwerefaroutuponthewesternplain,yetmorethanhalftheirjourneylaystillbeforethem.Inagreatcircle,underthestarryskyandthewaxingmoon,theynowmadetheirbivouac.Theylitnofires,fortheywereuncertainofevents;buttheysetaringofmountedguardsaboutthem,andscoutsrodeoutfarahead,passinglikeshadowsinthefoldsoftheland.Theslownightpassedwithouttidingsoralarm.Atdawnthehornssounded,andwithinanhourtheytooktheroadagain.

           Therewerenocloudsoverheadyet,butaheavinesswasintheair;itwashotfortheseasonoftheyear.