Chapter 45 – “Down Deep”

Penny was profusely apologetic once she had finally got herself under some sort of control. She was also reticent about what it was that was troubling her. For all she knew full well what she had just promised Elrond (and she would indeed fulfill that promise as best she could), she was loath to dump her grief on these two young men who were already battling with their own bereavement. Not only that, now was not the time: she knew she was not ready to talk about any of this without collapsing into a weeping puddle and making a spectacle of herself. She had to come to terms with it in herself first; only then could she find the words to express it.

Now was not the moment, nor were these the right people, so she told herself.

Arvain tried to press her, but a hard look from Halladan silenced his insistence. He opened his mouth to respond but realised he was on a hiding to nothing and left it at that.

Arvain did ask what Elrond had wanted, though. Penny felt there was nothing to be hidden, that even if there were she could trust the two of them to be discreet, but she still kept her answer general: she told them he had asked about Arwen’s future and what little she knew of it. She did not mention that he had wanted to know in particular about her death.

“He wanted reassurance, I think, that she lives a long and happy life. That was all.”

She tried a faltering smile. Something in Halladan’s look told her he realised there was more to it all than that, that it was not only Arwen’s fate that had had her so distressed. She felt slightly guilty all of a sudden, if not strangely uncomfortable, as if she was being dishonest.

“I… He asked me how I fared, that was all,” she murmured at last, looking down at her hands. “He guessed very near to how I am feeling, how everything in Rohan has left me feeling, let alone now being surrounded by the elves… as they are right now. I had not expected it. It was upsetting, brought a lot of things to the surface.”

The two men said nothing, guessing that it was best to let her meander to the point in her own way rather than risk interrupting.

However, instead of carrying on with her train of thought, she took a deep breath, looked up and forced a smile at them both. She was damned if she was going to discuss loss of family and grief with these two unless she absolutely had to.

“I am sorry if I alarmed you. Please, could we talk about something else?”

“Of course, Pen-ii.” Halladan inclined his head.

“But…” Arvain looked at his brother.

“Come and sit by the fire with us,” Halladan continued, making no sign that he had heard his brother. “The tales are wonderfully distracting. King Elessar was saying exactly that a little before you joined us, was he not, Arvain?”

“Er, yes. Yes, he was.”

Arvain was throwing glances between Halladan and Penny, seemingly not entirely convinced that this was the best strategy, but Halladan was already leading the way, Penny following gratefully in his wake, so Arvain had little choice in the matter.

Back at the fire, Penny tried to focus on the tales, if only so as not to be so aware of the elves’ singing. However in truth she was easily distracted from both tale and song, lost as she was in her own thoughts for the rest of the evening, staring into the flickering flames, not even noticing if Halladan, Arvain or anyone else tried to get her attention nor that Aragorn was throwing her curious glances every now and then. At one point Arvain managed to press a cup of wine into her hand at which she started slightly, smiled and thanked him before quickly returning to her silent contemplation.

After a while she could feel herself falling asleep even where she sat, so she muttered her excuses and left, still somewhat preoccupied.

She had left her wine nearly untouched.

The next two days of travel passed in much the same way as the first two had done. The countryside changed little and their route remained much the same in that they meandered ever eastward through the foothills of the White Mountains, fording countless fast streams as they did so. The only noticeable change was that the Misty Mountains moved ever closer to them on their right.

Aragorn alternated his time riding with his men – both Gondorian and Dunadan – and Elrond. Elrond seemed relatively unchanged, though he was perhaps talking a little more (or people felt more able to approach him). The few times Penny was near him and they caught each other’s eye, Elrond would nod his head slightly in acknowledgement and they would share brief, sad, sympathetic smiles before going about their business.

In the evenings the elves did seem to be making a little bit more of an effort to be sociable. The general gathering of people after the evening meal round the main elvish fire started once more, rather than everyone disappearing off into small groups or to wander nearby. The outpouring of sorrow was slowly changing into a melancholy celebration of the elleth Arwen was, the wife, the Queen and, likely as not, the mother she would become, as well as the love she bore for a great and noble man.

Penny tried her best to be talkative and act as normal, but it was fairly clear to all who knew her well that she was not quite her usual self. The mood amongst the elves was affecting all those in the camp, naturally enough, but even Lindir and Mireth, occupied though they were by having left behind a friend whom they would never see again, were aware that Penny seemed quiet. She would also spend time alone in her tent, or else on the edge of the encampment, staring up at the stars or out into the dark countryside for hours at a time, which was not like her.

Two nights after she had had her conversation with Elrond, it was noted by Faelon that it was the second night running they had seen almost nothing of Penny at the Dunedain fire. Arvain admitted he had not seen her since the evening meal during which she had eaten little and said less, but Halladan said she had murmured something about going to sit with the elves for a while. He got to his feet even as he was talking.

“I will go and see if I can find her,” he said, heading off in the direction of the elvish fire.

Halladan discovered that Mireth had not actually seen Penny for quite a while and that she had only sat with the elves for a very short time. When Mireth realised Penny had not headed back to sit with the Dunedain as she had assumed, she became concerned, telling Halladan that when Penny had finally returned to their tent the previous night her eyes had been red from weeping. Lindir, overhearing, commented that Penny had been unusually quiet all that day when he had ridden beside her and Celebdor agreed with him.

Mireth said she would check their tent whilst Lindir joined Halladan on a search round the camp. It was Lindir and Halladan who found her.

She was sitting a good few yards from the edge of the most westerly side of the camp, nearest the Gondorian tents as it happened. There was a line of trees there along the edge of the low hill on which they had camped, and she had her back up against one, staring out into the valley below, though little could be seen of it in the dark. She had a clear view of the night sky, though, and at first Lindir and Halladan both had the same thought – that she was merely enjoying the stars and a moment alone.

Then they both heard the quiet, shuddering breath and knew she was crying.

“Pen-ii?”

It was Lindir who spoke but she did not hear him. He and Halladan looked at each other and Lindir nodded for Halladan to go ahead and be the one to approach her. He did so, with Lindir following him.

“Pen-ii?”

She heard Halladan. They could both see her start slightly, then hurriedly wipe at her cheeks before turning round a little. She seemed surprised to see both of them.

“We do not wish to intrude, Pen-ii,” Lindir said, his voice soft. “Only no one had seen you at either of the main fires for some time.”

“I… I just wanted to be alone a little while, that was all, Lindir. Really, it is nothing.”

Another glance was exchanged between the two males. Halladan seemed to be deferring to Lindir, trusting his innate elvish instincts and years of experience.

“Mireth is worried about you.”

Halladan noted Lindir did not tell her they were just as concerned.

“Oh.”

Penny felt a little guilty that she had never summoned up the courage to tell Mireth and Eleniel the full truth about her story. She had kept it from so many for so long, only told Lindir because he had left her with little choice, and now… now it seemed way too late to try and explain things. Of course, it did mean, for all Mireth was her friend, she was limited in what she could talk about and share with her.

“May we join you?”

Lindir was already closing the gap between them and sat down beside her before she could properly respond. Again Halladan followed his lead, coming round the tree to sit on the other side of her. Glancing at Penny as he did so it was clear she was a little uncomfortable with them being there. Halladan could well recognise that feeling himself, but he trusted Lindir knew what he was doing.

“You know, I can remember spending long nights like this,” Lindir mused quietly at last after they had sat a little while in silence, “when I came back from Mordor.”

Halladan could feel Penny stiffen next to him, as if she too had instantly realised what Lindir was referring to.

“Just thinking, musing… remembering…”

Lindir threw Penny a glance. Penny’s head had bowed a little. Lindir was still looking at her, as if waiting to see if she would respond to what he had just said or if he should carrying on talking.

“Loss is never easy, Pen-ii, especially when it is those you love, those closest to you. You will find your way, I know. Take all the time you need. We worry that you are hurting, that is all. If you need to talk, you only have to find us.”

“Is that what you did?” Penny looked at him, her cheeks wet. “Talk?”

Lindir turned away, looking out at the sky. The silence stretched between them before Lindir replied at last.

“Eventually. It took… time. When I was ready, then, yes, I talked about him.”

In the darkness, Halladan nodded to himself and stared out into the valley in his turn.

“I just cannot find the words, Lindir.” There was a catch in her voice as she spoke. “I just…” She made a helpless, loose shrugging gesture with her hands. “It is so… and the more I think about it, the more I remember, then it just seems to get bigger and bigger until I…”

Lindir took her hand, wrapping his other arm round her shoulder and pulling her into him. He said nothing and neither did Penny. If she was crying once more then she made no sound, just the occasional soft sigh.

After some time, Lindir let her go and she sat up again. He asked her if she was feeling better and she nodded and thanked him. Then he smiled and kissed her brow, saying he had best get back.

When he left, Penny felt very conscious of the fact that it was Halladan, so burdened with his own problems, who had been left with her. Not only that but he had hardly said a word. They sat in silence for several minutes till Penny felt she really ought to say something.

“I am sorry I did not say anything to you before now.”

Halladan seemed surprised.

“To me? Do not apologise.”

“Well, the other night when you and Arvain were asking…”

“No, no, Pen-ii. I realised then it was best to leave you to tell us in your own time if you saw fit.” He glanced at her. “That it was best not to press you.”

She looked back at him.

“Is that what you think I did with you?”

“Well… yes. But you had your reasons. You were well intentioned…”

“And right.”

“Well, yes, if you insist, but…”

“Even King Elessar agreed.”

“It is not easy, Pen-ii. That is the point I am trying to make. It is not easy and I understand that all too well.”

Penny felt a wave of guilt flow over her and she looked away.

“Pen-ii?”

“It is not the same, Halladan.” Her voice was quiet. “I cannot begin to compare what I have been through to you or any like you who have seen battle.”

“Perhaps not, but that does not make your loss any less, your grief any less painful.”

She was still looking away from him, so he took her arm, trying to persuade her to turn back to him a little.

“Pen-ii?”

He paused, something slowly dawning on him.

“Tell me,” he said slowly, “would you have come to me or Arvain about this if Lindir and I had not approached you this evening?”

No answer, though since she had already turned to him a little he could see she was trying to form a response but seemed unsure of how to put it, as if she felt awkward admitting what he now suspected her answer would surely be.

“Tell me honestly, Pen-ii.”

“I would have avoided it if I possibly could, Halladan.”

She glanced up at him, could see the flash of something like anger cross his face. She turned to him fully then.

“Halladan, please! You and Arvain have been through so much, have lost a brother and a father. And you in particular have suffered, still suffer because of it. I would not dream of burdening you further by discussing such things as grief and loss when I know it is the last thing you would wish to talk about. You avoid such things whenever you can, and I do not blame you for that in the least, indeed I can understand it completely. How could I speak to you of this?”

“I am your guardian, Pen-ii.”

She had no response to that. It was clear that he meant that, in such a position, he had a right to know, however hard it might have been for him to hear it let alone discuss it.

There was a pause.

“I would have spared you such a conversation.”

“I understand, Pen-ii, and I thank you for it, for myself and for my brother’s sake, but as I said, I am your guardian as well as your friend, Pen-ii. Besides, your loss is that much different from mine so it would not be… You have said so little of your family. I would gladly hear you talk of them.”

He tried a gentle smile and got one in return.

There was another brief silence. Penny dropped her gaze.

“I miss them so much, Halladan,” she whispered at last.

“I do not doubt it.”

“And I will never see them again. My mother, my brother, my grandfather, my friends, my uncles, aunts, cousins…”

He took her hand, held it tight.

“I am sorry,” he murmured.

“I came here just to think about them. Only since the funeral, have I finally allowed myself to think like this. I had been so occupied with other matters before and also… also a little scared, scared of how enormous, how awful this is…”

She fell into silence. After a while Halladan spoke.

“If it would help you, I can keep you company at such times. Even if you do not wish to talk, simply to sit in silence with your own thoughts…”

She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears but full of gratitude and something close to relief.

“Thank you,” she said quietly but Halladan shook his head.

“No need to thank me. I shall be happy to do it. I will admit it was a pleasant comfort to have you sitting next to me those nights in Minas Tirith when I was similarly burdened, and you distracted me also. It is a small thing indeed if I can repay you in some fashion for all the kind concern you have shown me these last few weeks. What are friends for, after all?”

So it was that they stayed there a while, hardly talking at all, simply sitting side by side in silence much as they had for so many nights back in Gondor. At last Penny admitted she was tired, so Halladan walked her to her tent, bade her goodnight and meandered back to the Dunedain fire to drink a tankard of ale, have his first (and only) pipe of the day and stay up for a few more hours yet.

Arvain and Faelon were not the only ones to wonder at how long he had been gone.

The next day Halladan made a point of riding with Penny for the entire day; a simple act, perhaps, but one which she found surprisingly comforting. It was not too dissimilar a sensation to that which she had known when in Halbarad’s company except that, unlike Halbarad, Halladan was her equal in many respects. However, it was certainly that same sense of having a support and a protector beside her if she ever needed it and it was not an unpleasant feeling.

That he expected nothing from her, demanded no conversation, did not cajole or bully her into lessons, singing or joining in chatter also helped. He was happy simply to keep her company, knowing that it was in itself enough for her, and she was happy that by being in someone’s company others no longer felt like they needed to keep her entertained: they left her be and that suited her fine. Thus, Halladan’s company gave her the space she needed in a strange kind of way.

All that morning they had been slowly coming down out of a large group of foothills onto the open, wide space of the Westfold Vale. By the time they stopped for their lunchtime meal, several of the elves said that, from on top of a horse, they could make out the silver line of the Entwash in the far distance and even the valley of Orthanc beyond it, even though it was near twenty leagues distant at that point.

They could also make out the scars left on the land by Saruman’s troops as they had made their way from Orthanc via the Fords of Isen to Helm’s Deep; and soon after they set off once more, Penny could see them for herself also, since they were riding past and through them at many points from then on.

They still took the well-beaten path, though the horses spread out a little now with grass on either side, heading west, but soon they would turn south towards the great valley (which Penny knew of as ‘Deeping Coomb’) that yawned open in the mountain range to their left.

Even to Penny it was clear there were few trees left standing either nearby or at any point as far as she could tell from the direction of the Fords of Isen all the way to the Coomb and beyond into it. Just as on the Pelennor, though in far greater numbers here, they had been cut down or (mostly) burnt, standing black and twisted as stark reminders of the slaughter in the Vale that fateful day. Great swathes of the ground had also been scorched as crops and grassland had been put to the torch. In many such areas only now were plants and grasses slowly regaining a foothold, giving the entire expanse of the Westfold a darkened patchwork feel instead of the sea of rolling grass and wheat it once had been.

However, the worst were the cottages and farmsteads.

Or what was left of them.

It was like that first horrible ride to Minas Tirith all over again in many ways, only there not every house had been destroyed and many that had been were by then already in the process of being rebuilt. In contrast, here there had been nothing but total destruction. The Uruk-hai and Dunlendings had known they could take their time as they had hounded and harried their quarry to its hiding-hole and so had deliberately gone out of their way to burn and destroy as they went. Eru help any they had caught – put to the sword, or speared on a pike, overwhelmed by sheer numbers… and that was if they had been lucky. If they had not, if they were the few women who had not had time to escape or had somehow missed the message to flee, then most had known a far more terrible end than the men or children who had died around them.

Silence fell on the party every time they travelled past burnt shells of buildings. Many were moved, not least because of the stories they had heard from the Rohirrim themselves of what had happened here. Aragorn’s face was grim indeed. It had been hard for him to have had to flee in the face of the enemy, for all he had known it was the only thing that could have been done at that point.

Several times elves stopped, getting down off their horses if they were riding, and walking amongst the burnt remnants of copses, some touching the burnt stones of farmhouse walls, or even bending to touch the blackened earth. Many that did so were Galadhrim, both Galadriel and Celeborn amongst them, though not all, and more than once Penny spotted several gently uprooting a grass or a flower and replanting it in a bare patch of earth, murmuring quietly as they did so.

Elvish ‘magic’ in progress, apparently.

Penny found it really rather peculiar to see them about their business, having realised what they were up to. Halladan could see her watching them and smiled.

“They know what they are about.”

“I do not doubt it.”

“They have ancient wisdom, much of it older even than they, passed on through the generations. They can do much to heal such places.”

Penny nodded and fell silent. It was all deeply weird. Not least of which because it was only after the elves stopped at a place and a bird would perhaps come and alight on the burnt branch of a tree near them and start to sing that Penny realised how quiet some of those places had been. The places with destroyed dwellings in particular, as if the animals had known even by instinct what horrors had been committed on such soil. Yet after the elves passed by, the wild animals felt no fear of such places and returned, if perhaps a little hesitantly, to live their animally lives once more, to reclaim those areas of scorched earth and ‘cleanse’ them of their past, just as the plants were beginning to do.

Deeping Coomb itself was easily as broad as it was deep, a great steep-sided bowl opening in the side of the White Mountains, with the peak of Thrihyrne rising tall and proud on its western edge. As they rode towards the southern mountains’ foothills that spilled over into the Coomb, Penny tried to imagine the landscape around her filled with orcs, albeit ones probably a good deal larger than the dead ones she had seen in the Misty Mountains. Her brain just refused to manage it, though.

There were fewer destroyed buildings within the Coomb, but only because most Rohirrim had lived out on the Westfold Vale rather than within the Coomb itself. The few buildings that had been in the Coomb were burnt-out shells just the same as those out on the Vale that had lain in the path of the advancing hordes. It said something for the extent of the damage felt in this half of Rohan that they had not yet managed to consider rebuilding these small-holdings, unlike those on the Pelennor.

If there were any left alive who wished to return to them, that was.

As they began to climb higher and higher, up hill after hill, slowly leaving the floor of the Coomb behind them, Penny’s pulse began to quicken ever so slightly. Every now and then she could catch glimpses far ahead of them of the great gash in the southern mountain wall that formed the massive ravine of Helm’s Deep. Occasionally, as they edged ever nearer, she could see the tip of the Hornburg on top of its cliff spur, as well as the roof of a smaller tower somewhere to the left that sat on top of the Deeping Wall. However the view, when it was clear, was for the most part obscured by a massive rampart that cut right across the entrance to Helm’s Deep: Helm’s Dike.

It was not too dissimilar to the first time Penny had seen Lothlorien, or Edoras, or Minas Tirith: something in her brain was saying ‘You’re here, you are really here; you are actually seeing Helm’s Deep, THE Helm’s Deep.’ Moments from the battle – so well known to her before, but all the more vivid now having heard so many speak of it to her directly, not least Legolas in their long talks back in Minas Tirith – ran through her head.

At last they were in the small valley directly below the dike and its massive rampart, and it was a straight, clear road up towards it. It was then that Penny caught sight of a huge pile of stones away to their left, situated about a mile below the dike.

No grass, flower or plant grew on it, though dirt and earth had already collected in the cracks. It was several feet high and quite some size – easily a small hill. Halladan caught her staring at it and opened his mouth to explain, but she answered before he could speak.

“The Death Down they call it, do they not?”

He nodded. She grimaced at the thought of what lay underneath it. It seemed so very strange to see it, to know it was not the work of men but of the Huorns and that under it lay the crushed remains of every Uruk that had fallen that day, so many they had filled the dike with bodies even before the battle proper had begun.

Penny shuddered, and very deliberately looked away, up towards Helm’s Dike. This consisted of a deep, broad trench a mile long that curved along the path leading to Helm’s Deep, cutting it off entirely – there was no way round it. On the other side of the trench was a massive wall of earth with a wooden palisade on top of it. In the middle was a breach, both in the rampart and in the ditch, allowing a means of entrance as well as an exit for the Deeping Stream that ran down from Helm’s Deep itself.

The nearer they got to it, the faster Penny’s heart was thumping. She had not really thought about where they would stop, but had assumed they might camp in the valley below Helm’s Deep. However, as the train climbed ever upward it seemed clear that they were intending to stay within the Hornburg itself, or at least camp in front of it.

She was not sure which would be worse: to have camped this side of the Dike in sight of the burial mound of the orcs, or else the prospect of camping on the battlefield itself where so many had fallen and she knew she would find the Rohirric burial mounds in front of the Wall.

Through the gap in the Dike she could now clearly see the massive Wall at the top of the long, low slope of grass behind the rampart, and it made her stomach tie into knots. She was not aware her breathing had quickened.

Several yards short of the Dike, Halladan pulled his horse slightly closer to hers and leaned towards her.

“Are you feeling unwell, Pen-ii?”

He barely spoke above a murmur, not wanting to be overheard and draw attention to her.

“No, I am quite well, I assure you,” Penny replied, almost distractedly.

It was hardly the most convincing performance, though, given she was unable to tear her eyes away from the rampart at first where the front of the train was already passing through the gap.

She threw Halladan a thin, weak smile.

“I shall be glad to get out of the saddle at last.”

Halladan nodded, smiled and gave a soft half-chuckle in agreement.

As they finally rode up to the Dike in their turn and passed through the rampart, Penny did find herself wondering why Halladan did not himself seem more out of sorts, given the last time he was here he had been in the company of both Hirvell and Halbarad.

‘Perhaps he is just covering it well,’ she thought.

Or perhaps having to occupy himself with Penny served Halladan nearly as well as it served her, for the time being at least at any rate, though Penny little realised it.

In spite of her reassurances to Halladan, Penny could not help but stare, open-mouthed as she caught sight of the entirety of the Deeping Wall at last. There were two things that struck her immediately: that it was an astonishingly impressive piece of architecture and that it had also clearly taken a hell of a beating during the battle.

The Deeping Wall was very high and actually leaned over slightly at the top, making it look as if it was looming towards you which was really quite unnerving. It ran the entire length of the opening of Helm’s Deep, from the western cliff of the ravine to the massive spit of rock on which stood the Hornburg on the other side. The stonework was such that it seemed entirely smooth, like glass, with only a line of arrow slits visible at the very top.

However, there were several sections that were missing where Saruman’s ‘blasting fire’ had done its worst. Work had been done to patch them up but even Penny could see both the stone used and the workmanship were clearly inferior to that which had built the wall originally. Penny could see Gimli a little way ahead of her tutting and shaking his head as he caught sight of it. The repair work was still ongoing too – men were up ladders or else on top of the Wall hauling up great chunks of stone on ropes to be mortared into place.

As for the Hornburg, it was just visible towering above a wall that had been built on top of the rocky spur that stuck out from the right-hand cliff of the ravine. It was impossible to say where the spit of rock ended and the wall began, so finely crafted was it. Both it and the Deeping Wall immediately reminded Penny very much of the outer wall of Minas Tirith. Now it seemed she could recognise Numenorean work when she saw it.

As impressive as the Wall and the Hornburg were, however, they were not what immediately caught the eye. Rather, the first things that struck you as you came through the gap in the Dike were the two massive burial mounds in front of the wall, like small, grassy hills. The one on the left was for the dead of the Eastfold, the one on the right for the fallen from the Westfold and then, on its own, was a much smaller mound below the Hornburg. That, as Penny knew full well, was where Háma, Captain of the King’s Guard, lay with his sword and shield on his breast, buried in full honour.

As she slowly took all this in, Penny was little aware that Halladan kept throwing increasingly anxious glances at her. She had gone rather pale and seemed oblivious to much that was going on around her instead staring at the burial mounds, glancing up at the Wall and the Hornburg or else looking fixedly at the back of her horse’s neck while she simply followed everyone else as if on automatic pilot.

Nor was Halladan the only one to be concerned.

Arvain had been trying to make his way towards them the moment they had come in sight of the palisade, but given he had been some way behind them and with the slight bottleneck going through the Dike had only just now managed to catch them up. Not only that, but Erestor had detached himself away from the company of Elrond, Aragorn, Gandalf and Celeborn, murmuring something to them all as he set off back down the line. All four immediately seemed to agree with him, nodding and glancing behind them to where Penny was.

“How are you faring, Pen-ii?”

Erestor’s face spoke of his kind concern. Penny looked up at him, took a deep breath and tried to show a brave face, giving him a slightly wobbly smile. Erestor smiled his understanding, falling in beside her even as Arvain came alongside his brother. Arvain leaned forward slightly in his saddle to look across Halladan at Penny then glanced at Halladan. Halladan’s expression said everything and Arvain sighed heavily, raising his eyebrows slightly as if to say ‘well, it was to be expected, perhaps.’

Penny’s mind was racing as they came to the paved causeway that crossed over the Deeping Stream as it wound round the Hornrock. Immediately on the other side of the stream the causeway sloped up, becoming the broad, paved ramp that led to rock’s summit and the gates into the Hornburg. All the while she was riding up it, Penny was trying not to think about all the things she knew had occurred on those very stones, nor the fact that, when they got to the top, there was the smell of new wood as they passed through the gate and a man armed with a filthy smelling bucket was daubing the wood with something thick and black.

When they finally stopped in the courtyard, Penny was still pale and glancing about her, trying to take everything in. In some ways this was worse than coming to Minas Tirith. If they had camped that night on the Pelennor, or down in the First Circle then it might have been equivalent, but here…

Men had died here. Men had spilt their blood here, right here, right where she had ridden through. Yes, it had been a glorious victory, an utter rout when almost all hope had been lost, but dreadful things had also happened in this place that she could not even begin to imagine, even though her mind’s eye was trying hard to do exactly that. They were lying just outside, piled together in those pits… And Háma! She had known he would… He was one of the few she knew of by name and where he would…

Penny was trying to tell her brain to shut the hell up, but it was not listening.

Everyone was milling around, some following Rohirrim as they led the horses off, many still fully laden, down to the Deep and the caves where they could be stabled, watered and fed. Others were shouldering their packs (or found others shouldering them for them) as Rohirrim then showed them to their quarters. Several Rohirric lords were warmly welcoming Aragorn and Gandalf, being introduced to Elrond and Celeborn, or else greeting Legolas and Gimli heartily as old friends.

It was Halladan quietly asking if Penny did not want to dismount that roused her at last, and even as she nodded vaguely to him and started to move she was dimly aware that her breathing was a little erratic and shallow. When she finally slid out of the saddle and her feet hit the floor, she crumpled slightly, her knees feeling not quite strong enough to hold her. Halladan caught her, Arvain quickly beside him with a noise of concern.

“Really,” she murmured, “I am…”

“If you say you are quite well once more, Pen-ii, I shall get annoyed,” Halladan interrupted, not entirely in jest though his tone was gentle. He glanced up. “Where is Mireth? Arvain, could you find…?”

“Pen-ii?”

It was Elrond. Erestor had brought him over and he was now looking somewhat alarmed to see Penny in such a state.

Penny, aware she was under scrutiny and worrying them, struggled to stand upright away from Halladan’s support. Halladan let go of her, but still held both arms hovering protectively only inches away from her, just in case.

“Please, I am just a little…”

“I quite understand, Pen-ii,” Elrond replied quietly. “Let us get you housed and away from the bustle, shall we?”

So saying he immediately dispatched Arvain to fetch Mireth while asking Halladan to deal with Penny’s horse and have her things brought to her chambers. He and Erestor would try to find someone who could show them where Penny was to be billeted. Erestor shepherded Penny behind Elrond, one hand on her back both as friendly reassurance, and also in case she needed sudden support.

Arvain left even before Elrond had finished speaking, but for several moments Halladan did not move, watching in clear concern as Elrond and Erestor disappeared with Penny into the throng.

The room Penny, Elrond and Erestor were shown to was up several floors. It was long, with a low ceiling and a few small windows down one wall which looked out over the ravine of Helm’s Deep. That there were thirty bare wooden cots in it made it clear it was normally a barracks for soldiers. Elrond dismissed the young man who had shown them the way with his thanks the moment they got there.

“I thank you both,” Penny said gratefully as they sat her down on a nearby cot, “but I am quite well now. It was a brief moment as I got out of the saddle, that was all.”

Elrond gave her a hard look: serious, not to be argued with, but kindly and with some sympathy all the same.

“Do you think I have forgotten how much you told me of what happened here? Estel was astonished when I first told him of it, how I could recount it blow by blow near enough. I know full well why you are overcome. You are tired from travelling, carrying pain and grief which is in itself exhausting and now… now you are here in a place so full of meaning for you. Did you not struggle at first in Gondor? Why should here be any different?”

At that moment Mireth arrived with blankets. Erestor took that as his cue to leave, saying he would check Elrond’s things were being taken to his room. As Penny thanked him once again and he made his way out of the door, he stepped aside to make way for Halladan who had appeared in the doorway carrying Penny’s saddlebag and the pack she shared with Mireth.

Elrond glanced up and half-chuckled.

“I did not intend for you to carry them yourself, Halladan.”

Halladan shrugged noncommittally.

“It seemed easier than trying to find someone else to do it. I have had the mare sent on to the caves. Arvain’s taking my things to our chambers.”

Mireth fussed a little over Penny, saying she needed to lie down and rest, but Penny was equally insistent that there was nothing the matter with her, that it was a momentary thing that had now passed.

Mireth seemed anxious that Penny had perhaps not recuperated enough in Minas Tirith, that to be travelling again so soon had taken its toll given she had not been up to full strength after her serious illness. Elrond and Halladan shared the smallest of glances, an unspoken agreement passing between them, at which point Elrond explained gently to Mireth that Penny had had some foresight about the battle that had taken place here.

There was a momentary pause before Mireth said anything.

“Oh.”

The look she then gave Penny was so filled with sympathy and understanding that it nearly brought Penny to tears.

“I understand,” she said quietly. “Ai, Pen-ii.”

So saying she immediately sat down next to her and wrapped her arms about her in an almost maternal gesture.

Other ellith were arriving so Elrond and Halladan made to leave, but not before they had sought reassurance that Penny was feeling better. She thanked them, insisting once more that it had been a brief moment, nothing more, and that she was sure she would be fine.

“After all, we will only be here a short while,” she added, trying to sound light-hearted.

But the looks both Elrond and Halladan gave her were more knowing than she felt comfortable with, and she was rather relieved when they had left.

For a little while Mireth tried to cheer her and distract her, chattering about this and that or attempting to pull her in to the other conversations the newly arrived ellith had broken into. That their conversations seemed to turn mainly on how dark and severe the place seemed did not help Penny particularly and, when she saw an opportunity, she left the room, hoping Mireth would understand and not come running after her. She just needed some time alone to get a grip on her whirling thoughts.

She found her way out into the main courtyard. There were still quite a lot of people around, some busy with sorting their baggage or being shown to rooms, but most simply chatting or being introduced to the few Rohirrim around. Penny followed those who seemed to be making their way down to the Deep itself, trailing along behind a number of elvish horses down a series of wide corridors.

The horses were making their way down to a lower exit, but they passed by a large, heavy door that was opened, leading to a flight of steps down to the Deep. Penny went through it, aware (with her heart thumping a little as she stood at the top of the steps and got her bearings) that it had to be the same staircase Legolas and Aragorn had defended as everyone near them had beaten a retreat into the Burg once the orcs had finally breached the Wall.

Helm’s Deep was filled with people coming and going, mostly Rohirrim with elves accompanying them, leading the horses to be stabled or returning from the caves. Penny could see several others she recognised from their travelling party – both Gondorian and elf - who had already made it outside, perhaps some being told of the battle that took place here given they were having things pointed out to them from what she could see.

She slowly walked down the staircase, looking round her all the while, taking in the sheer, towering cliffs on either side, the deep, wide ravine narrowing away to her right. It was not quite as gloomy and dark as she had always had it in her mind’s eye. Admittedly the battle had taken place at night and in a storm, let alone under the shadow of the cloud from Mordor, so that had no doubt coloured her perception of it. Still, she was surprised to see so much coarse grass in amongst the stones, and even the odd flower here and there. There was a rough track up the middle of the Deep itself, leading, no doubt, to the caves; and all along its length ran the Deeping Stream, trickling and murmuring as it made its way down to the Wall itself.

The thing that most took her breath away was the size of the place. It really was huge. The sky was open above her, the massive cliffs leading straight up to clear blue, and though it was late afternoon there was still quite a bit of sun in a strip to the far left of the Deep, though it was fading fast, the line of shadow from the northern cliff slowly creeping forward till at last it would hit its opposite wall of rock and sweep up it.

No one was paying Penny much attention, and she was glad of it. She was able to gawp and stare, to take in her fill of this place as much as she wanted, and in that she was no different from the few others from her party who were in the Deep already so she did not stand out in the least. It was better like this, so she felt: to be unaccompanied as she got it out of her system this first time of seeing it all.

The Deeping Wall stood tall and dark, casting a long, cold shadow behind it into the Deep. She immediately spotted the small culvert where the Deeping Stream still ran out on its way down to the Dike and into the coomb beyond. She could also make out the new stonework around it spreading out in a huge V-shape upwards to within several yards of the top of the Wall.

The Wall itself was complete (either undamaged or repaired) for quite some way along its length from the Burg end all the way to the tower that stood at about two thirds along. The remaining repair work was being done on the far side of the tower. Penny thus felt safe enough from the enquiring glances of workmen and Rohirrim to climb up the Wall, indeed she could already make out at least two ellyn up there with a couple of Dunedain, no doubt admiring the view.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs that led up the outside of the Wall. Yup, three flights, just as she had known even before she had counted them. She tried hard to fight back the momentary vision of standing in that same spot with a foot or more of water round her legs, perhaps even with bodies or body parts floating past her.

She climbed up slowly, not savouring the moment exactly, but certainly barely able to take in what she was doing and where she actually was. Her vertiginous brain tried hard not to think about the fact that there was no railing. Instead she concentrated on counting the steps, admiring the stonework, making note of the fact that the stairs were definitely wide enough for two men to pass each other by at a run if need be, but she still kept herself as close to the Wall edge as possible.

She was so focused on what she was doing that she was entirely oblivious to the fact that various others had had the same idea as she and were coming out into the Deep at least before the last of the afternoon sun was lost. As she climbed, therefore, she little realised that Legolas had spotted her almost the moment he had come out of the Hornburg and had made his way down to where Aragorn and Gandalf stood on the stairs leading up from the Deep to the Burg, pointing her out to them.

Once she was on top of the Wall, Penny could fully appreciate just how massive it was. Four men could indeed walk abreast on top of it as she had already known, but now it was clear they could do so easily as in ‘four men carrying shields and spears, and with swords on their hips.’ The battlements were as tall as Penny if perhaps a little taller. She could see the ellyn were having no difficulty in looking over the top of them but the Dunedain with them had to lift their heads and crane their necks a little to do so. She settled for making for the nearest arrow slit instead, gazing out onto the scenery that would have met any man of Rohan that fateful night, let alone Legolas who was up on the Wall for quite a time or even Aragorn on several occasions.

By pressing her face up fairly close to the slit she could get a very good view on all sides, not merely straight ahead. She tried not to look down too near to the base of the Wall itself since the fact that the top of the Wall was shaped to lean over slightly from the outside gave you a real sense of vertigo if you did. She contented herself (though that was hardly the word to use) with taking in the span of the greensward.

It was something less than a mile long and there was nearly a third of a mile between the Wall and the Dike’s rampart. From this side she could see the network of ladders and staircases leading up to the platform that ran the entire length of the rampart so soldiers stationed at the Dike could look out onto the valley below. It seemed strange to see Rohirric soldiers stationed at regular intervals along the rampart’s length, though of course, for all the War was over, this was still a fortress. There was always the possibility of the odd band of orcs still ranging in the mountains beside them, though they would have been foolish indeed to have made their presence known. In some ways it only added to Penny’s sense of bitter sadness to be reminded of this place’s function so clearly.

It was perhaps nearly as impossible for Penny to imagine the view in front of her crawling with orcs as it had been to imagine the coomb filled with them earlier, but she knew for a fact that that was exactly what had happened. Even if she did not know the story so well herself, she had heard it told on several occasions in the last few weeks: how every time the lightning had flashed it had looked like a boiling black sea between the Wall and the Dike’s rampart.

Down below her, Gandalf, Legolas and Aragorn had been joined by Erestor and Lindir (among others). They in their turn had Penny discreetly pointed out to them and both Lindir and Legolas had made to go up to join her, but both had been stayed by Gandalf.

“Give her a little time alone. Let her take this in on her own,” he had murmured.

Had she known, Penny would have been grateful to him.

How long she stood peering out through the arrow slit, her imagination running overtime, she was not entirely sure. Slowly, even as her brain was turning over the specific events of that night, she turned at last, taking in the Wall itself, her mind’s eye managing easily now to fill it with several rows of men along its entire length armed with bows, Eomer or Aragorn marching amongst them, bellowing instructions.

A brief glance down towards the Deep was a mistake as she immediately took in the fact that, with there being only a barrier a couple of feet high on the Deep side of the Wall’s top, any forceful arrow blow would very likely carry you over the edge if you were near enough to it. That and, of course, with ladders and grappling hooks, Uruk had been trying to scale the walls and no doubt succeeded at points, so hand to hand combat would have made sure of some falls, both Uruk and Rohirrim, as well.

Blood had been spilt on these stones, even if the rain had washed them clean.

Okay, that had been the wrong thing to allow to slip into her brain.

She looked towards the Burg, noted the staircase leading from the end of the Wall up to it, only too aware that Aragorn himself had leapt up it when he had realised the danger the gate was in from the orcish battering ram.

She looked straight ahead towards where the ravine began to narrow into obscurity and darkness, where she knew the caves were situated, and in the gathering shadow of the cliff it was all too easy to be able to imagine a great horde of Uruk rushing up to them, only to be held back by sword and shield, Eomer and Gimli fighting fiercely amongst the defenders.

The great horn of Helm echoed against these cliffs when blown, but then so did any sound, she was sure of it. The occasional guffaw of laughter, shout or the simple rumble of conversation from the many people standing about in the Deep, for all it was a huge space, seemed far louder to her than she felt sure it might have been if the Wall were not situated between these two massive walls of rock. She did not doubt for an instant, therefore, that those women and children hiding in the caves had not only heard the noise of battle but had had it magnified: the clang of steel, the roaring booms every time Saruman’s explosive had blasted apart chunks of the Wall, sending pieces of rock (and men, no doubt) flying, the screeches of the Uruk, the screams of the dying… Everything must have been amplified in this ravine, siphoned up towards those terrified people, not knowing if their menfolk would beat back this horror or not. And when the caves themselves had then had to be defended… Ai, it must have felt like their last few moments on this earth.

‘But it wasn’t,’ she told herself. ‘It wasn’t because they won. Yes, men died, but they won. It was a rout: a tremendous, historical, fantastic victory.’

Her brain knew it, but her heart was having difficult remembering it right now.

She turned back to the arrow slit, still focused on her own thoughts, little caring in that moment what others might think of her, up there alone on the Wall; she, a complete stranger to Rohan who had no one to mourn who fell here, who could feel no significance, no weight of grief for what happened here, or so any of the Rohirrim might assume.

She could not remember the last time she had felt quite so lost and overwhelmed, given this seemed so much heavier than whatever she had felt even in Minas Tirith. Was it back in Imladris perhaps? Or… No. No, she could remember when. This was much like the ride to Imladris, that same overwhelming depression as when she had felt herself sinking deep into despair while she struggled to retain her sanity.

However, this time she felt all too horribly sane.

This time it was driven by her personal loss, let alone the weight of responsibility she still felt herself burdened by, the grief she knew others carried and what she knew would come to pass in the north.

And as that thought occurred to her, she remembered that at that time she had had the quiet strength and comfort of Halbarad to lean on, quite literally as she had sat behind him in the saddle for mile after mile. Halbarad, who perhaps had stood on this very same Wall, perhaps even looked out from this very same spot for all she knew.

She sank sideways, her head leaning against the cold, dark stone, hardly looking out of the arrow slit anymore, her gaze unfocused, blinded with silent tears.

It was still light, though Helm’s Deep was now dark in shadow, and dusk was beginning to draw in far in the east when she heard someone quietly say her name beside her.

She looked up to see it was Legolas, a sad smile on his face.

“Evening meal is being had in the hall,” Legolas said quietly. “Are you up to eating?”

She shivered, only now aware that clear cloudless skies had brought a chill with them with the evening breeze. She nodded, thinking it would be pleasant to get inside into the warm, though she had little appetite.

“We thought it best to leave you to have some time alone,” another voice murmured nearby. Only then did Penny realise Lindir was standing on the other side of Legolas. “You seemed… lost in your thoughts.”

“I was. It is… very strange to be here. This place… it is the battle we know the most about in our story. I… I have known what happened here in so much detail for so many years.”

Legolas was nodding.

“I remember you telling me as much. Tomorrow, if you wish it, I can talk to you about what happened here if you think it might help you come to terms with being here at last.”

“Thank you, Legolas, that would be most kind of you.” She paused. “But will you not be busy tomorrow?”

Legolas looked at her curiously.

“Does Gimli not wish to show you the caves? You have a bargain with him, no?”

Legolas laughed.

“Did I mention that to you? I do not remember doing so. But, no matter, I should know better with you. Yes, he has insisted I remember my promise to him, but I shall have some time to spare tomorrow for you, Pen-ii. I would be glad to do it if it might help bring you some comfort.”

Penny said nothing for a moment and the two ellyn showed no sign of moving just yet, both waiting patiently for her to show she was ready to head into the Burg herself.

“I feel too much,” she said quietly at last. “That probably makes no sense, but there are so many things inside me, so many weighty things that cause me pain and I am trying to deal with them one at a time, but being here… it is as if I can feel them all at once.”

She looked up at them both, hoping she had expressed herself clearly but suspecting she had possibly not: she was not sure she even knew herself what it was she was trying to describe. However, she was relieved to see them both nodding.

“We might be elves, Pen-ii,” said Lindir, “but we have known grief in our own fashion, both personal and in a more general sense. Each loss, small or great, adds to the ones before it. And any warrior who has seen what death can be, what horror battle is… Those are images that never leave you. You will always carry them with you.”

“Grief can be a heavy burden,” Legolas agreed. “It eases with time.”

“Yes, indeed, and you have had such a short time to deal with all your grief and burden among us all, Pen-ii,” Lindir continued. “You have shown fortitude and patience so far, but I fear you must show more for some while yet. In years to come, perhaps, you will look back on these times and find that the pain, if not wholly disappeared, has lessened considerably. That is the only comfort I can give you, and it might seem little comfort indeed, but I know it to be true, and that certain knowledge will help to give you the patience you need to bear this while it is still so raw within you.”

“Such places,” Legolas looked round him, “always hold a resonance, even if one has not seen battle there. Any soldier, anyone who has known death, could tell you that. Do you not think Elladan, Elrohir or I did not think of those of our people who had fallen in Mordor when we ourselves stood before the Black Gate? My grandfather died there and a great many of my kin were lost; you know that. Do you not think I felt the weight of their memory, their loss even as I faced Sauron’s forces in my turn?”

He was not accusing her of having forgotten these things, but rather trying to provide some comfort, to show her he understood her current mood completely.

“It is true I saw terrible things in this place, Pen-ii, things that, while normal for battle, are things I would never wish you to have to see, but remember I also saw a great victory here, and wonders I never hoped to witness. That, above all, is something to celebrate, for all that men died here.”

Lindir nodded, agreeing absolutely.

“I know,” Penny replied, her voice quiet, “I know and do not think I have not told myself exactly that, Legolas, it is simply…”

“The first shock of being here?” Lindir finished for her. “It was to be expected. As you said you knew this battle perhaps better than any other.” He smiled sympathetically. “Come. A warm hall, some good food and a little gentle distraction in tale and song will cheer you a little, perhaps. Shall we go?”

Penny thanked them and nodded, letting them lead her off to the staircase that ran from the end of the Wall up to the Burg.

At the top of the steps, before she stepped through the door, she glanced back, taking one last look at the great Wall and Helm’s Deep behind it. Dusk was coming quickly now and the whole place had sunk into a deep gloom, far more reminiscent of how she had always thought of this place in her mind’s eye. Then she turned and headed off after Legolas and Lindir, following them to the hall deep within the Hornburg’s walls.

Author’s Notes:

Re. the elves being able to see the valley of Orthanc from the moment they reach the flat of the Westfold, before turning south to Helm’s Deep: at much the same point as they are riding to Helm’s Deep with Theoden, Legolas is asked what he can see by Gandalf, and he can make out the hosts of Saruman on the other side of the river, and behind them a “veiling shadow.” Thus it’s not unreasonable that keen elvish sight on a clear day with no such ‘shadow’ of Saruman’s making could see all the way to the valley, if not perhaps see Orthanc itself.

For those unfamiliar with the books and who are confused by Hama being buried at Helm’s Deep: that whole bit with the warg attack in the films was pure invention on PJ’s part. Hama fought at Helm’s Deep and died there, not on the way there. It is also worth mentioning here that Eomer was given Erkenbrand’s role in the films. In the books Eomer fought at Helm’s Deep and it was Erkenbrand who arrived with the dawn alongside Gandalf.

As ever, my sincere thanks to all those who read this, let alone take time out to review with their comments, thoughts and responses. It is much appreciated.