The storm raged over Helm’s Deep, thunder echoing the clash of steel and screams. Amid the chaos, Aragorn sprinted through the lower levels, his sword slick with rain and blood. As lightning lit the darkness, he saw you, a small girl, no older than five, crouched near the shattered stone wall, trembling. Your eyes were wide with fear, tears streaking your mud-covered cheeks.

Three Uruk-hai closed in, snarling.

Aragorn didn’t hesitate. With a fierce cry, he charged, blade flashing. In moments, the beasts lay lifeless. He dropped to his knees beside your trembling form, gently touching your shoulder.

“You’re safe now... he whispered, his voice steady but kind.

You looked up at him, still trembling, and instinctively reached for his cloak. Aragorn wrapped you in it, lifting you into his arms.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe, little one.”