Teensy Disclaimer: For the purposes of this story, I'm treating Pfc. Todd Blackburn as just another character from a movie and not a real person (which he actually is). I know nothing about the man and doubt I ever will.
Part 1I have learned that the universe is a vast place. Everything is possible - even if it does not seem likely to be possible, no matter how strange, no matter how fanciful, no matter how ludicrous, it is entirely possible for it to be real.
I must begin with a morning of excitement. Perhaps not for everyone, but I was most certainly excited. I just arrived on the eastern shores of Africa to begin my first tour of duty with the US Army Ranger Corps. I dreamt of service to my country for a long time. I wanted (as cheesy as it sounds) to be all that I could be. I was ushered straight from a 12 hour flight to a waiting helicopter, which would take me to our base of operations. The swift thumpthumpthump of the helicopter blades couldn't match the beating of my own eager heart.
The vista that stretched before me as I sat on the side of the chopper was no less than spectacular. The ocean waters rose up and down with white foamy crests that seemed to be waving to me in greeting. Then they passed and crashed, as one might fall onto their old comfy couch after a hard day's work, onto the yellow sandy beach. If I looked behind me and out the other door, I could see that same beach stretching endlessly into the horizon, unwilling to give up its sandy shores to grass and shrubbery.
I wondered what the other soldiers who had come with me were thinking about. Then I decided I didn't care. I was where I wanted to be, and that was all that mattered.
Upon landing at the base and after reporting in, I practiced my shooting skills, had a meal, spoke with the other men around me - generally killed time while waiting for orders along with everyone else. Eventually the orders came, our mission was explained, and we prepared ourselves for battle.
Everyone had their own part to play in the mission. Mine was to fly in by chopper, slide down a rope to the ground, and protect the area while the main objective of the mission was accomplished elsewhere. Then we would all leave in humvees and call it a day.
My excitement and nerves reached higher than I thought possible. Here it was - my first mission. We arrived at our destination in mere moments, and one by one, we grabbed the rope and slid to the ground.
I never made it that far.
As I leaned out to grab the rope, the chopper lurched beneath me. I fell and missed the rope entirely. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Though in hindsight, it only seemed that way because my mind had sped up. I remember seeing my SO's shocked face as he realized what had happened. I remember watching the rope slide by my body. I remember trying to grab it, but my hand wouldn't obey me fast enough. The chopper's blades stirred up great billows of dust and dirt, a beige fog clouding over my vision. My SO, the chopper, the rope - all seemed to fade away into that sandy mist.
I don't remember the impact of the ground, but I suppose it must have happened. After all when one falls, one does expect to hit the ground eventually. I do remember waking up. The fall seemed like a dream, so I assumed that I was back in my bunk at the base. I tried to look around me, but everything was pitch black. There was no light anywhere, just a deep consuming darkness. I felt very small and very afraid.
I tried to speak out, but my throat closed in on me. Breathing became difficult. I fumbled in my pockets for my lighter and flicked it open. The little flame didn't provide much illumination, but it was better than nothing. Just being able to see my own hands was a comfort. I sighed - my throat open again. The sound of it echoed outward. Wherever I was, it was a large and open space.
Standing, I realized I was still in my fatigues. The memory of the fall came back, and I realized it must not have been a dream. I searched around with my little light and found my rifle next to where I had lain. Thoughts began running through my mind. The overwhelming thought was that I had been captured. Something had gone wrong with the mission, and I had fallen, been captured, and thrown into this dark pit of a place.
Of course this theory was full of holes. Why didn't they kill me? Why did I still have all my gear? Where were my comrades? Why wasn't I more severely injured after a fall like that? I flexed my arms and legs just slightly and wiggled all my fingers and toes. Nothing seemed broken or battered. I had a bit of a headache, but that wasn't severe and didn't worry me any. Even as improbable as it sounded, capture was the only possible explanation I could come up with, and I knew I couldn't stay here.
I secured my gun in my right hand and cautiously walked forward with my left hand and my little lighter leading the way. Before long I came to a stop and found myself facing a pillar of monumental proportions. Its girth rivaled an oak tree. Its height was hard to determine as the light I had only went up a few feet before waning out. The pillar itself was carved in deep rugged patterns. My eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and I could make out another similar pillar off to either side. Stepping forward, I could see more pillars ahead. Not knowing what else I could do, I continued forward, moving past pillar after pillar.
Half an hour later, I found myself staring up at a wall. Well, where there's a wall, there's a gotta be a door, I thought to myself, and continued off to the right. I didn't get much further when I heard footsteps. I paused, a little unsure, and closed my lighter. I was plunged into darkness again, but I could see a light in the distance. It came from a doorway in the adjacent wall. As it grew brighter, I clutched my rifle with both hands and hid behind one of the pillars. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see come through the arched doorway [a procession of Somali soldiers would have fit with my theory] but I certainly never expected what came.
A tall man came first. He was old with a long beard and a pointed had. The light came from the top of a big stick he was carrying; though, I couldn't see the actual light source. Following him were two men. They were younger, in their mid-thirties maybe, and even though one looked a bit fancier than the other, they both dressed like something out of Camelot. After them were the five oddest looking people. At first I thought they were children because they were so small, but the largest of them had a beard with big chunky braids in it. The bearded one also wore a metal helmet and carried a big ax. The other four were also not children. Each of them had a mop of curly hair and bright frightened eyes, but they had adult facial features. Also they wore no shoes, and their feet were exceedingly large and hairy. The last to emerge was a young man with long blonde hair. Like the other two men, he looked he just stepped out of King Arthur's court, but something set him apart from the rest. Sure, I noticed the pointed ears, but that wasn't it. There was a certain keenness in his eyes and grace of movement that caught one's attention, but that wasn't it either. I couldn't put my finger on it.
After they had all emerged from the doorway, the old man said something. I was too far away to hear it properly. The light on the end of his stick brightened almost painfully. I put my back to the pillar so they couldn't see me, but I could see why the old man had turned up the light. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of those pillars were stacked in perfect geometric alignment all around me. They were a couple hundred feet high, and appeared to have been all carved out of a single slab of rock. It was incredible.
Dimly, I heard one of them speak behind me. I was still too far away to hear, but I didn't have to get closer because the old man called out a moment later. "Show yourself, or be slain, vile creature of Darkness!"
I didn't want to risk peeking from behind the pillar, so I called out to them, "To whom am I addressing?" Keep it simple. Keep it formal. Keep from getting your head blown off, and maybe you can get out of here, I thought to myself.
"I am Gandalf the Grey. Who are you?"
Gandalf 'the Grey'? O.....kay. "Private First Class Todd Blackburn of the United States Army Rangers, 75th Unit."
They talked quietly amongst themselves for a moment, then the old man called again, "We do not know these united states. Are you friend or foe to the Light?"
I wasn't quite sure what he meant. "If you mean 'Am I sick of this place and can't wait to see daylight again?' then, yessir, I'm a friend to light."
A gruff voice challenged, "Then come out where we can see you, 'friend.'"
"You have our word, no harm will befall you," the old man added.
I didn't know if I could trust them on that, but my choices at the moment were either step out and risk getting shot or bolt and hope I can find my own way out of here. I stepped out slowly, gun ready but not aimed directly at them. I made my way to them, careful not to make any sudden moves. I stopped about ten feet from the old man. They all had drawn swords [what the hell?] except for the bearded one with his ax and the blonde with a bow and arrow. Like me, they all had weapons ready for a fight, but they weren't aggressive about it. For a while no one said anything. They eyed my fatigues and gear warily as if they'd never seen them before. Hell, haven't they ever seen CNN before?
I decided to be the one to break the ice. I straightened up to my full height, slowly raised my hand in a salute, and looked the old man directly in the eye. "Private Todd Blackburn," I introduced myself, and let my hand drop back loosely to my gun.
The old man smiled and nodded, as if coming to a conclusion about me. "I am Gandalf," he bowed slightly. "These are my companions." He named them each in turn. The two men were Boromir [the fancier dressed one] and Aragorn. The bearded one was Gimli. The four little ones were Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. The blonde was Legolas.
Sam was the one to figure out why Legolas had caught my eye. "You have his face," he said.
"What?" Gimli grunted.
Sam stammered a bit and blushed, like he'd just spoken out in church or something. "It's just that, well....they look like each other. Leastwise, that is, they have a bit of the same face." His face flushed again, and he went quiet.
Legolas and I looked each other over. Sam was right. We had the same noses, chins, mouths, and but for the color we had the same eyes. "Perhaps you have some Elvish blood in you, lad," Aragorn said, smiling.
Before I could ask what he meant, Gandalf asked me, "Why are you here, young man? What is your purpose?"
"I don't really know, sir. The last thing I remember is falling out of a helicopter and waking up here. I need to get out of here and back to the rest of my troops. I'm probably already listed MIA, and it wouldn't be long before I'm considered POW, or hell even KIA."
"Em eye ae? Pee oh dubyoo? Kay eye ae?"
I frowned. "Yessir. Missing In Action, Prisoner Of War, and Killed In Action." Okay, so they don't watch CNN. "I need to get out of here. Do you know the way?"
Gimli rumbled in his throat. "He's a stinking spy. Blackburn indeed. I say we kill him now and leave his rotting corpse as a warning to those accursed orcs."
I stiffened and gripped my gun harder.
"Now now, Gimli. We have nothing that says he is so." Gandalf addressed me again. "Please calm yourself and join us, at least until we reach the outside."
Some hairy stump just proclaimed my rotting corpse to be on the top of his 'to do' list, and I'm supposed to calm down? I tried to relax my shoulders, but I made a point to shift my rifle in my hands. Not breaking eye contact with hairy, I asked Gandalf, "How far is it to the outside?"
"Oh not far," he said conversationally, as though one of his friends hadn't just threatened to kill me. "Perhaps an hour more."
"How long back that way?" I inclined my head the way they had come.
"We've traveled four days from the West Gate," Aragorn answered.
Gandalf moved onward. I fell into step beside Gimli. I didn't want him behind me, and I guess he felt the same way. We went on that way for a few minutes - me eyeing Gimli, he growling at me - until something past me caught his attention. With a cry, he pushed me aside and barreled his way into a room in the wall I had followed. We followed him in and found him kneeling in front of a stone crypt. He was weeping.
Gandalf brushed away the dust and dirt from the top of the crypt and read, "'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin. Lord of Moria.'"
I looked around. The room was small with the crypt in the center and a well to one side. Old skeletons were littered everywhere. Some wore rotting robes, but most wore ancient maille and armor. All of them were either pierced with arrows or had the side of their skulls crushed in, and all of them had been here a very long time. The way Gimli acted, he must have known these people.
No wonder he didn't like me. If I'd just found some stranger in my friends' tomb, I wouldn't like him either.
Beside the crypt was one of the robed skeletons. It had a book in its lap, a quill in its hand, and an arrow in its chest. He'd been killed while he was still writing, I thought. I began to feel nauseous. I hadn't even been in combat yet; I certainly wasn't used to death in all its rotting hideousness.
Gandalf gently took the book from the deceased writer and opened it to its final pages. "'They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We cannot get out. We cannot get out. Drums. Drums in the deep. They are coming...'"
A crash sounded beside me. I whirled to see one of the little ones [I still had trouble telling which was which] standing next to well with a guilty look on his face. The corpse sitting on the lip of the well no longer had a head. Even as we stood watching, the remainder of the corpse fell backwards into the well, dragging a heavy chain and bucket down with it. The clattering and clanging of their fall echoed throughout the entire cavern system.
Then all was quiet. They all stood silent a moment, waiting for something to happen I guess. Gandalf yelled at the little one, "Fool of a Took! Why don't you throw yourself in next time and save us the trouble of your stupidity!"
I was about to stand up for the little guy, but was cut off by a deep booming drum. Another drummer beat out an answer to the first. Soon the caverns were shaking with the echoes.
"Orcs," someone breathed. I didn't know the meaning of the word, but I didn't like it.
"Let them come!" Gimli shouted. "They'll know there's one Dwarf in Moria that still draws breath!"
Boromir and Aragorn closed the room's rotting doors. As he came back in, Boromir stated, "They have a cave troll." Legolas tossed them old axes to brace the door with, then they all stood away and readied whatever weapons they had.
Legolas and Aragorn leveled arrows at the chinks in the doors. Everyone else had swords raised, and Boromir had the addition of a shield the size of a small tabletop. A gaggle of voices, the like I'd never had the displeasure of hearing before, rush towards us. Many [hundreds? thousands?] bodies pressed against the doors, scratching and clawing at the old wood. All I could see was green slimy flesh through the doors' chinks.
Legolas fired an arrow through a chink. A scream outside signaled a good aim. Aragorn followed suit. Not knowing what else to do, I quickly checked my ammo and made sure the safety was off.
No sooner had I done that, then the ancient doors finally gave way, and a sea of scraggly, slimy, ugly green bodies poured through the opening.
