The Nightmare World of Tolkien

[Mister Underhill]

I'm in the middle of a long overdue re-reading, and was recently struck by the imagery in this passage from Helm's Deep:

It was now past midnight. The sky was utterly dark, and the stillness of the heavy air foreboded storm. Suddenly the clouds were seared by a blinding flash. Branched lightning smote down upon the eastward hills. For a staring moment the watchers on the walls saw all the space between them and the Dike lit with white light: it was boiling and crawling with black shapes, some squat and broad, some tall and grim, with high helms and sable shields. Hundreds and hundreds more were pouring over the Dike and through the breach. The dark tide flowed up to the walls from cliff to cliff. Thunder rolled in the valley. Rain came lashing down.

That visual of a lightning strike suddenly illuminating a valley crawling with silent Uruks sent a tingle down my spine. There's something so insectile about it. Ugh. I shiver just thinking about it...