Hello, all! It seems that I have abandoned this story, but that is not the case! I welcome you back, and thank you for bearing with me even through my unexcusable sluggishness in getting this out! I fear I have been distracted lately by a rather new obsession of mine, and will be exceedingly more distracted, but do not worry! Sai, I have not abandoned you!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Little in the world can be said to rival the Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf in terms of awesome size and might. Carved columns of stone rose from the floor and vanished somewhere in the distant ceiling high above, arranged like soldiers ready for battle.
In the deep, Sai could hear the scratching noise of armored feet scraping against stone, the dragging of weapons too long for the bearer. When Gimli spotted the lonely moonlit tomb, Sai clasped a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from rushing toward it.
"There is no time," he hissed. "Goblins have been alerted to our presence by the sound of the doors falling."
"They already come." Legolas looked toward the ceiling.
Like termites from a disturbed nest, masses of goblins swarmed from the various cracks in the ceiling, armor glittering like insect carapaces. They leaped from holes in the ground, giving shrill war cries and threatening the Fellowship with their scavenged swords. Loudly in the deep, battle drums beat the goblins to act.
Thus, the battle was joined. Sai drew a battalion of lions, and they peeled themselves from his paper, roaring and tearing into his foes. Ink eagles circled the immense halls, snatching goblins from the fray and dropping them onto their comrades, until the eagles themselves were boarded and brought to ground, subdued by the sheer amount of goblins on the ceiling.
Sai used his tanto to deflect a few arrows that whistled at him from the darkest reaches of the hall. Goblin snipers were taking advantage of his distraction fighting the ground forces and fired at him freely. He created an ink clone in hopes of using it to pick them off, but the clone, for all its speed, was destroyed by numbers before it got too far.
Boromir blew his mighty horn, the sound traveling into the deep. The walls rolled it back at them thunderously, and the goblins shrieked in terror, cowering and covering their ears.
Gandalf froze. "Rash was that decision to blow your horn, Boromir, son of Denethor." He murmured. "The end of Durin's reign was not brought through an attack led by goblins or orcs, but a creature swathed in rolling flame and shadow."
"But passing up a gift is even worse, Lord Gandalf. Look at them— we could make good on an attempt to escape while they are frozen with fear." Sai said.
"The lad is right. Follow us, we will cut a path! There is still yet one more dwarf in Moria who would fight until the finish!" Gimli bellowed, whirling his axe above his head.
Blood, black as a moonless night, flowed like a river through Moria's hallowed halls, sucking at their boots like a living creature that would swallow them all. Frodo slipped, his bare feet sliding on the slick stone floor, but Legolas caught him before he fell.
The elf bore him through the chaos, the screams of dying goblins, the whiz of arrows and the thud of swords, sure footed on the blood-wet floor. Frodo closed his eyes, not opening them until Gandalf raised his voice.
"Quickly, to the Bridge of Khazad Dum!" A shadow broke from the walls, surging forward, licking up the blood, devouring goblins whole. The scent of burning flesh filled the ancient hall, and Sai felt desperation tug at his heart as he ran. He could not outrun this danger, not this time. He could not succeed…
They reached the bridge, turning to see their foe. It reared out of the roiling shadow, belching flame and covered with black, leathery skin. "A Balrog of Morgoth… how long has it slept below the earth, a creature older than Sauron himself?" Aragorn whispered in awe. Gandalf stepped forward to face it.
"I am a servant of the secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor. The dark fire shall not avail you, flame of Udûn!" Gandalf roared. The Balrog snorted, then roared, the deafening sound of crackling fire filling their ears. Merry whimpered and cowered behind Sai as a wall of blistering heat rolled over them. The air burned inside his lungs.
The Balrog swung at the wizard with a sword made of black and red flame. Gandalf raised his staff, staggering under the blow, but the sword shattered against a shield of white light that blossomed around him. The creature snorted again in annoyance, flame shooting from its skeletal face. This time, it drew a whip, cracking it against the stony walls with a noise akin to thunder.
"Come no farther! You are not welcome here! Go back, back to the abyss that was prepared for you!" Gandalf summoned his power, seemingly growing in size, raising his staff once more. "You shall not pass!" He brought it down, a shockwave rippling through the ancient stone bridge. The Balrog took a step forward, with a massive scaly foot that took up the entire width of the bridge. The stone cracked, unable to withstand the behemoth weight put upon its back, and broke with a rumble. Screaming in rage, the Balrog fell, down toward the darkness, down toward the emptiness, down toward the center of the earth!
Gandalf turned away, suddenly appearing very small and frail, his eyes shut with some pain that he would not acknowledge fully.
Sai then smelled it—the smell of fire and brimstone, heard the sound of the whip uncoiling like a snake slithering through grass. He lunged forward, pushing Gandalf out of the way, just as the flaming end of the Balrog's whip appeared over the edge of the sundered bridge. He snarled in pain as the burning length of magic rope wrapped around his ankle, digging into his flesh and devouring his skin and muscle, all the way to the bone. The weight of the Balrog dragged him backward, back toward the abyss, and he fell to the ground, clawing at the uneven surface. In a stroke of luck, one of his kunai worked itself free of his leg sheathe, and he grabbed for it, rolling over even though the whip of the Balrog chaffed against his ankle excruciatingly. With two slices, he severed the whip, and the Balrog fell alone. The rest of the lash dissipated, fizzling out as soon as it he cut it.
"Sai!" Frodo yelled, attempting to make towards their fallen member, but several arrows hissed by, and Boromir grabbed him before he could be shot. The ninja dragged himself forward, using his arms, and behind the outcropping where they took shelter, breathing hard. Sweat poured down his face, and he bit his tongue to keep himself awake when he wanted to faint from the pain.
"Quickly, someone help him up. We must get out of danger before we do anything about his leg." Aragorn said. Boromir swooped down, helping Sai up on one side, and Legolas on the other. Half hopping, half limping, they managed to exit the darkness of Moria and emerged into the sunny slopes just outside of the back entrance to the mines. Sai flinched away from the sunlight, narrowing his eyes to shut out the painful light that lanced into his aching head.
Gandalf immediately grabbed Sai's leg, inspecting the wound. "It is as I feared," he said, between chanting spells to numb the pain and heal the least charred flesh. "There is a poison born of Dark magic in this wound, much like that belonging to the Ringwraiths. You should have let me be taken. As an Istari, I cannot be affected by poisons belonging to the Darkness such as this."
"So, given long enough, he will become a Ringwraith like Frodo was if they did not take out the Morgul Blade from his shoulder?" Pippin asked fearfully.
"No, fortunately he managed to separate himself from the lash before enough magic transferred from the Balrog to himself." Gandalf said, attempting to sound comforting. Sai struggled to prop himself up on his elbows.
"Then what does that mean? Poison still runs through my veins," he said. "Is it fatal?"
"It is not. I think you will only become more sensitive to the beck and call of the Ring and the Shadow, that is all. The venom has been made a little more potent than I would have liked it because of your… state of mental health," Gandalf explained, referring to the shinobi's blood-stained past, "but you will survive it within you."
"I am relieved to hear that." Sai said, exhaling. His vision was beginning to blur, but Gandalf continued healing his leg.
"We can treat him better in Lothlorien. Let us move: by nightfall, these slopes will be swarming with orcs." Aragorn said.
"Lorien! The home of the elf-witch? Surely you do not think we would be welcomed there!" Gimli gasped.
"Peace, son of Gloin," Legolas said as he helped Sai to stand. "We have Gandalf with us—that must count for some manner of trust, no?"
By nightfall, they had reached the eves of the forest, burdened as Sai managed to stagger along with the help of Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn, regaining his strength slightly as the sun slid below the horizon. His leg still pained him terribly, but Gandalf's healing had at least managed to cover the bones exposed by the black fire of the Balrog's whip. For the most part though, his flesh remained a purple, red, black and pink weeping mass. "Sorry I could not be of more assistance, laddie," Gimli apologized as he stumped along in front of them.
"On the contrary, you would be of perfect height to be a walking stick for me." Sai replied tersely.
"Why, you little— I would cut your leg off for your insolence!" Gimli roared, brandishing his ax, but there was little fire behind his threat. He was joking, Sai decided.
Joking: intransitive v— to be trying to be amusing, rather than in serious or in earnest. He recited the definition in his head to distract himself from the sting as grass brushed against his wound.
When they passed under the first barrier of trees, tall, imposing things with white bark and leaves red as flame, his leg gave another spasm, and he bit down a groan. He felt sick, his head ached, and his vision swam, but he forced himself to keep going.
"I should not be here," he whispered, "I am a blight upon this holy place. My presence here… is sacrilege."
"Nonsense," Gandalf said, though his eyes darted about warily, searching for the elves who were doubtlessly watching. "Though a dark taint has permeated your body, your soul remains as pure as it did before. The Ring has not had time to work yet."
"Pure," Sai scoffed. "I am as pure as an orc."
"Gollum is here," Gandalf said, an attempt at conciliation, "He has follows us still. If you feel that your presence here, as one damned to the darkness, is blasphemy, than he should be blasted where he crawls."
Sai allowed tiny smile, a true smile, to grace his thin, white lips.
"And so he will be." An elf materialized from the darkness, along with a squadron of elven archers, each one with a bow and arrow trained upon the party. "Mithrandir, why have you come, bringing forth this Dwarf and those Men? You know that they are not welcome here. Especially the dwarf and the tainted one."
"Haldir, this is not the time to be holding grudges over any grief either one of them or their kind of dealt you in the past. We need your help." Gandalf said urgently. "He is wounded terribly— we must see the Lady."
"All in due time, Mithrandir, but you would let a taint so deep penetrate into the heart of the wood? I think not. Let him die, Mithrandir. Look at him! He fades before our eyes!" Haldir turned his eyes of storm grey upon Sai, who returned his gaze mercilessly, not hurt enough to forget to veil his eyes and hide his true nature, but he wobbled, his one good leg threatening to collapse. He channeled his chakra into it, relieving some of the pain, and stood taller.
"He is fading because he is injured, Haldir! Now, take us to the Lady immediately or stand aside. It is not your lot in life to be questioning the decisions of the Istari." Gandalf thundered. Haldir moved to the side, not in the least ungrudgingly, to walk next to the wizard.
"There are whispers though, of an Istari who wears the colors not only of white, but of many others as well. They say that he walks the Middle-Earth, even as we speak, leading the mortals astray," he murmured. "Do you know of such a wizard?"
"You say it as if I am the fiend himself! Nay— I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey, and Grey I am only. It is true, there is a man who was once an Istari who wanders the land, twisting the hearts of the people, but he has fallen far from the ranks of what we represent," the wizard replied.
Sai concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the flesh festering about his ankle. What did Sakura say about burns? Ah, yes. They needed to breathe. What about magic fires?
As if reading his mind, Aragorn said, "Galadriel will know what to do. She is wise and kind, and very powerful. There is nothing to fear."
"A she-fox, they say she is," Gimli argued, "Wily and cunning and not to be trusted. Stay close to me, hobbits. Here is one dwarf she cannot turn!"
"Then turn you, I shall not, for that was never goal and is not now." A she-elf walked toward them, barefoot, her feet making not a sound upon the dry leaves on the forest floor. Her hair seemed to be made from moonlight, and reflected the light of the stars in every strand. The white dress she wore was embroidered fantastically with leaves and vines in thread of silver, though Sai noticed that the vines bore thorns. "I welcome you to the Golden Wood, O Fellowship, and bid you rest beneath her boughs tonight. Have no fear, for here, you are safe from harm. Tomorrow, we have many weighty matters to discuss, but I will not trouble you with them now, for I see you are weary from hurt and toil." Galadriel intoned.
Gandalf bowed deeply, as did Aragorn and Legolas, forcing Sai to do so as well. He found that he could not lift his eyes to view her face— the light was too much, it seared his eyes. Yet, he heard her speaking to him, and him alone, even as she spoke to Gandalf.
"Welcome, Sai, traveller from afar, guardian of the Ring Bearer, and slave to the Ring."
Yays!
