Prequel to my version of The Lord of The Rings trilogy

Helm's Deep part 2

Aragorn gallops up the winding path leading to the imposing gates of Helm's Deep, the thunderous sound of hooves echoing against the stone walls. The people gathered there, weary and battered from the recent battle, lift their heads in disbelief at the sight of him, their once-lost leader, now returned.

As Aragorn dismounts, a soldier rushes forward, taking charge of his horse, Brego. Gimli, ever the fiery dwarf, pushes through the crowd with determination etched on his face. "Where is he? Where is he? Get out of the way! I'm gonna kill him," he growls, his axe gripped tightly in his hand. But as Gimli's eyes fall upon Aragorn, his anger melts away, replaced by a broad grin of incredulity. "You are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless man I ever knew," he declares, pulling Aragorn into a tight embrace, which the ranger warmly reciprocates.

"Gimli, where is the king?" Aragorn inquires, his gaze scanning the faces around him. Gimli nods towards the great hall, and Aragorn strides purposefully through the crowd, his path soon intercepted by Legolas and Liv.

Legolas, ever the jovial elf, raises an eyebrow as he regards Aragorn. "You're late," he remarks, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Aragorn's lips twitch into a smile, despite the weariness etched on his face. "A ranger is never late, my friend," he quips back, exchanging a knowing look with Legolas.

However, Legolas's playful demeanor fades as he takes in Aragorn's worn appearance. "You look terrible," he comments with genuine concern, earning an elbow to the ribs from Liv, who stands beside him. "First you punch me, now you elbow me in the ribs," Legolas grumbles, though there's a fondness in his voice.

"Well, someone has to keep you in line," Liv retorts, her tone teasing yet affectionate. Aragorn chuckles softly, grateful for the lighthearted banter amidst the somber atmosphere.

Meanwhile, Eowyn, tending to the wounded, turns at the commotion, her heart leaping in her chest as she catches sight of Aragorn's familiar figure. For a moment, she is overcome with joy at his return, but as she moves towards him, she hesitates, a mix of emotions swirling within her.

Legolas steps forward, presenting Aragorn with a delicate necklace, and the ranger's fingers instinctively close around it. As he raises his hand, revealing the Evenstar pendant, a symbol of Arwen's love and devotion, Eowyn's smile falters, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Aragorn meets Legolas's gaze with a nod of gratitude, understanding the significance of the gesture. "Thank you," he murmurs sincerely, before turning his attention back to Eowyn, whose conflicted emotions he senses.

Eowyn watches silently, torn between her own feelings and the duty she has sworn to uphold, as Aragorn, Legolas, and Liv stand before her, united in their shared trials and triumphs.

Seated upon his throne, weary lines etched upon his face, Theoden, King of Rohan, sits in contemplation beside his loyal advisor, Gamling. The hall is hushed, the weight of recent events heavy upon all who dwell within.

As the door creaks open, drawing their attention, Aragorn strides in with a sense of urgency, his gaze meeting Theoden's with a mixture of determination and concern.

Theoden listens intently as Aragorn recounts the dire news. "A great host, you say?" he queries, his voice laced with apprehension. Aragorn's response is grave. "All Isengard is emptied," he confirms, his tone brooking no doubt.

"How many?" Theoden presses, his eyes narrowing as he braces himself for the answer. Aragorn's words hang heavy in the air. "Ten thousand strong at least," he reveals, his voice tinged with a solemn certainty.

Theoden's breath catches in his throat as he attempts to comprehend the magnitude of the threat before them. "Ten thousand," he murmurs, his mind racing with the implications of such a formidable force.