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My son and I live in Moria.
Not a nice neighborhood, but it's the best I can do. Without his father to help us Shaghàr and I aren't strong enough to fight for a good home. This is the best we can do. I don't like his new friends. I should have known he'd befriend them they're the only thing down here other than the Balrog. He's fallen in with orcs. Foul creatures. No one likes them. But there is no one to stop them down here. They are everywhere. Running free. I'm glad they don't go near the Balrog. He's cranky on the best of days, those who wake him pay dearly, usually with their lives. But even so, his new orc friends are horrid. They keep him on a chain, they starve and torment him, when he gets home he's starving and irritable. I wish there was someone decent he could play with.
I haven't seen Shaghàr in two weeks. He's gone off with his friends, he's probably starving and irritable to the point of destruction. He has to come home soon. Every night, I prepare his bed, a warm dinner, warm milk and some sweets and wait for him to come home.
He has to. Doesn't he?
There has been a lot of commotion these past few days. Whispers of visitors in the mine. Maybe they're nicer people looking to move in, I can always hope. But the orcs all left for the main hall with much clanging of armour. Maybe these people are good and the orcs don't like it.
*Later*
I think they've awoken the Balrog. I shudder just to think about it. I'm glad I've taken to staying in my cave. I wish Shaghàr would come back.
*One day later*
The orcs have returned, including Shaghàr's friends, their numbers seem smaller and they don't have Shaghàr, maybe some are just loitering behind. But no. They told me that the visitors, nine visitors, were trying to pass through the mine. The Balrog took one, but the others got away, good for them I thought.
Then they told me.
They had gone with Shaghàr to see what was going on and ended up in the thick of battle. Shaghàr wouldn't have fought if the orcs didn't make him so irritable. I take it he was being showered with arrows and he nearly killed one of the smaller visitors, but he had been wearing something shiny, mithril I thought, like the dwarves used to mine here. Then a tall one, with pointy ears and a bow, must be an elf I thought, the elf killed him.
Dead? My Shaghàr is dead
My baby. My little cave troll. My Shaghàr.
The orcs made him a monster, an elf killed him and now I am left completely alone in the deep dark silence of Moria with none but the sound of horrid orcs in all directions, going about what ever it is they do.
I am dead to the world.
I have no reason to live.
My poor Shaghàr
Rest in peace my baby.
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After that point, the outside world was hurled into deeper and deeper turmoil. Shaghàr's mother didn't know it. She never knew the gathering dark. She never knew the dark lord failed. She never knew the true bravery of the nine visitors, especially that of the small one Shaghàr almost killed. She went and woke the Balrog, for that she paid dearly.
As she had already done
[A/N: My second fanfiction, as you can probably guess it's set during the Fellowship of the Ring. I got the idea about the cavetroll's mother from Peter, in one of the featurette's he says he wanted to show that the cavetroll wasn't really evil, maybe he just fell in with the wrong crowd, he wanted to show this when Legolas' arrow hits it's mark and the cave troll has one last breath. And since I don't really believe that any bad guys are truly completely bad, I just leapt at this opportunity. I'm going to try to do one with an orc. This will be difficult.]