Disclaimer: I do not own any character or location in this story.
Drizzt in Middle-Earth
Drizzt Do'Urden drew his thick forest cloak tighter around himself as the biting wind mixed with the pouring rain.
He lowered his cowl as he heard nearing footsteps on the stone parapet, but relaxed visibly when he realized it was Aragorn. The same man he had been fighting in the woods of Emyn Muíl some weeks ago. But that enmity had grown over the past weeks into something that more resembled friendship.
Aragorn sighed as he stared into the endless gathering mass of orcs that had assembled outside the high walls of Helm's Deep. Drizzt turned his head to look upon his new-found friend.
"Have you ever faced that many enemies before?" Drizzt had to ask because he found himself quite shaken by the number of orcs amassed a stone throw away. Aragorn snorted almost as if to himself.
"Have one ever? This must be the largest army to walk Middle-Earth since Sauron's glory days." Aragorn paused as he read Drizzt's nonplussed face, who did not know anything about Middle-Earth's history except what he picked up once in awhile from Théoden's cursing mouth and Legolas hushed explanations.
"No, I have never faced this large a force before, my dear dark –" Aragorn was interrupted by Théoden who made one of his routine walks around the parapet. Behind him Legolas came with a bow in hand.
"It's time" was all Theoden said as he continued toward Gamling on the far side. Legolas, however, stopped and handed the bow over to Drizzt, who in turn inspected it doubtfully.
"I know you do not use the bow but we need every strong arm if we are to hold any sort of defense against Saruman's Uruk-Hai."
Drizzt could very well understand that sentiment and accepted the bow as another weapon in his arsenal. Aragorn patted his shoulder carefully, as careful as everyone seemed to be when they touched or were near Drizzt except a drunken Gimli.
"I believe you know how to use a bow, as you seem to know how to use every weapon I've thrown at you. You must have learnt them before when you… from where you eh – were originally from." Aragorn nearly coughed up the words and Drizzt would have smiled if he had not thought about his father. The image of his father dying always popped up in his mind when someone spoke of his native land.
Drizzt was brutally roused from his thoughts as Gamling nearly roared the order to man the battlements. Drizzt gripped his bow and gave it one or two testing pulls.
Helm Deep's entire garrison manned the walls, everyone clasping a bow, even the elves that had only just arrived loaded their more beautiful crafted bows.
The orcs down on the ground had started roaring and grunting, apparently sensing that the oncoming slaughter was nearing its start.
Suddenly all men and elf turned quiet in anticipation, the tension so dense that you could almost reach out and touch it.
"Show no mercy, for you shall receive none. Load your bows." Aragorn was close to whispering but sounded almost loud to all ears. Men and elf reached down, as one, to grip their arrows and nock them to the string. Drizzt, having not used a bow since his early days at Melee-Magthere, felt his forearms ache sharply.
"Fire at my order only!" Twang. Just as Aragorn had shouted the order an arrow shot out from somewhere on the parapet and found the neck of an unsuspecting orc. Everything went quiet for a second before a deafening roar went out from the massive crowd of orcs.
The first wave of creatures came sprinting toward the walls, the sound of moving hundreds unnerving more than a few among the defenders.
Aragorn gave the order to fire and the first volley hit the oncoming beasts, felling many. Drizzt watched satisfied as his arrow struck its mark, the arrow burrowing itself in the orc's sturdy chest. Drizzt immediately reloaded his bow and let fly to see the projectile again fell an enemy.
Every attack was beaten back again and again by the tedious volleys. That was when the first ladder rose up from the throng of beasts and attached itself to the parapet, carrying numerous iron-clad brutes. The ladder was coming in to the left of Drizzt who gladly gave up the bow for his preferred scimitars.
Legolas did also notice the ladder but unlike the drow he angled his bow sideways so he had a clear shot at the orcs, who had no sort of defense whatsoever to Legolas deadly arrows. Of course not all orcs on the ladder was killed by Legolas bow but he smiled when he saw that the ones who survived were warmly greeted by the drow's blurry blades.
Drizzt ducked under a sluggish swing and struck the orc in the abdomen in rapid succession with his scimitars, spilling out black fluids that stained the ground. Drizzt turned to the ladder where more of the orcs were slipping onto the parapet, the sheer size of their body defeating most of their human attackers. The drow realized he was desperately needed and so he threw himself into a seemingly reckless spin, that seemed to be of more danger to his fellow humans but no human was harmed or even touched by the spinning blades. The orcs, however, were slaughtered by the dozen, or so it seemed to a nearby Aragorn.
Drizzt evaded easily a slow spear-thrust from a short, compact orc who clumsily stumbled over a fallen body at the same time. Drizzt executed a perfect school example of a parry, as if he was lecturing a class of students watching nearby, turning the spear up and about a hundred and eighty degrees so that the tip was angled right back at the stumbling brute. The brute stumbled head over heels into the sharp spear tip; impaling himself by a spear he had thrust to begin with. It looked quite strange seeing the slumped orc with a spear protruding from his chest and the orc's hand still grasped tightly around the shaft, as if the creature had taken its own life.
Suddenly Drizzt felt the ground shake and his instincts told him to run, and as he did a giant explosion tore out a considerably part of the wall, launching huge rocks into the air. Drizzt thought he heard the rush of water before he felt his feet slip on something fluid and he lost his footing, falling into torrent of water. The drow glimpsed a large, brutish foot through all the blur of cool water, standing two feet away, before he hit something solid and lost consciousness.