As I've said before, I have totally run out of things to say in these A/Ns. As a side note, I have decided that my plan for the Mines of Moria is so…large, and overwhelming, that I am going to cut it into two parts: the first is of the actual journey through Moria, and the second is going to be of the battle with the cave troll in Balin's grave room, the Bridge of Kazachdum (wow, I'm really gonna have to research how to spell that), the Fall of Gandalf, and the journey to Lothlórien (not actually in Lothlórien: that will be an individual chapter on its own). Wow, I really do have this all planned out. *smiles in pride*

Anyway, before I start the actual chapter, I would like to thank everybody who has commented and reviewed this story, or has even read my work! You guys are so great :)

Chapter 9 – The Mines of Moria


"Well, well! The passage is blocked behind us now, and there is only one way out—on the other side of the mountains."

~ Gandalf, "A Journey in the Dark"


As we drew closer and closer to the entrance to Moria, I spoke less and less to anybody, until finally, falling silent completely. In retrospect, I suppose I should have been conserving my cheer, considering the events that followed in the mines. But I couldn't help myself. The mere thought of our intended destination would shock me into a horrid false sense of quietude.

Most of my companions seemed oblivious to my terror, which might have been for the best where the dwarf was concerned. All of them, of course, except for Estel.

I should have realized and accepted that my depression would be noticed by my elen-gwanûr: my star-brother. It would be as evident to him as it is to me when Aragorn himself is downcast. And yet, I continued to ignore him. His outright attempts to console me just dragged me deeper and deeper into isolation.

It was in these moments of complete despair that I dreamt of Elrohir.

The thought of the twin was always the one to bring me back to reality. He always reminded me of the reasons I had joined this quest in the first place: for Frodo, for Estel, for my Adar, for Middle-Earth…for Elrohir himself. And if protecting the ones I loved brought me into the darkest, deepest pit of Arda, then Valar help me, I would walk the tunnels of Moria.

And so, it came to be, that on the last day of our two-day trek from Caradhras, Estel growled out some Quenyan curses under his breath, grabbed my wrist, and practically dragged me to the back of our procession.

I had considered speaking to him, of course, before he so rashly took action, but this was definitely uncalled for. I sputtered indignantly. "Estel! What are you…?" The man glared at me with a raised eyebrow, as if daring me to argue. I wisely kept my mouth shut.

We walked alongside Bill the Pony, and began speaking in hushed tones. "Ellacári, I do not know what plagues your mind these past two days, but you have not so much as opened your mouth to speak! My heart longs for your singing, for one single smile, mellon-nîn! Why do you continue on with your silence?!" He hissed angrily at me, but even an orc could hear the concern and worry in the ranger's voice.

I sighed. "There is darkness here, Estel. You know that perhaps better than anybody, but you cannot sense what I can. Gimli…" I said his name with spite "…should not be excited to enter these mines. All of them should be dreading the inevitable! Moria is cursed with shadow…and flame. I fear for the safety of the fellowship." Estel's face was still devoid of emotion, and of fear. I needed for him to understand. "Sauron is not Morgoth's only servant, Aragorn. Horrible things still slumber in the deep, dark places of Arda, and it would be wise for us not to awaken them!"

His head snapped up violently to my face, surprise and horror evident in his eyes. I looked ahead of us, saw Gimli and most of the hobbits looking on (obviously attempting to not look as if they were eavesdropping) and I quickly switched to Sindarin. "Lasto na nîn, Estel!" | Listen to me, Estel! |

He looked me in the eyes as I bluntly told him: "Im gost." | I am scared | The ranger looked at me with surprise. I continued, making sure he understood the importance of what I was saying: "Ananta im afad le ah Frodo aiqua rata." | But I will follow you and Frodo on what ever path |

Estel shook his head furiously, looking at me with sad eyes. "Lá raen ar nîn him. Cír Mithren him húr le, Ellacári…" | You should not continue to wander with me. The Grey Ships are still available for you, Ellacári… |

I looked at him with horror, and unconsciously switched back to the Common Speech. "Nay, Estel. I pledged an oath to you long ago, and I intend to keep it, until your dying day or mine." It looked as if he was going to interrupt again, but I shook my head, and fixed him with a glare, that clearly ended discussion. Then, I said in a softer tone. "I'm sorry I have been so distant lately. My fear for Frodo and this fellowship clouds my judgment." I shrugged, and grinned at him, feeling my old self return. "Or maybe it is just your mothering that makes me furious."

Estel smiled weakly at me, acknowledging the pivot for what it was and accepting it. "Are you implying something, milady?" I snorted. "Only if it seems that way, my king."

Aragorn scowled affectionately at me, before lacing his arm around my waist, and whispering. "You know, mellon-nîn, I think the hobbits have formed an opinion of us." I looked up ahead to see Merry, Pippin, and Sam gazing back at us with cheeks bright red.

I laughed quietly. Maybe Moria won't be as bad as I originally thought. If Estel is with me, it can't possibly be that horrible.


"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli bragged with a smug grin. I knew that while he did not say my name directly, he was obviously addressing me with these boasts. He would likely be just as arrogant the entire trip through Moria: the dwarves built this, and the dwarves constructed that, and the likes.

I decided to restrain myself just this once. This time, however, it was Mithrandir who responded. "Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."

I smirked, and could not help but have a retort to that. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Gimli glared at me, and I chuckled in satisfaction. If nothing, annoying that dwarf would improve my spirits any day.

We were walking alongside the Walls of Moria, searching for the entrance to the mines. The door could only be seen at night, which was a most unfortunate circumstance. The rest of the fellowship could not see very well in the dark, and Frodo tripped on a rock, splashing his foot inside the lake mere strides from the wall.

I remembered Estel warning me about the lake, how a supposed Watcher lurked there, deep below the surface of the water. Ancient texts in the Mirkwood library spoke of such a creature, but implied that it had perished long ago, since no one in living memory had seen the creature, for all the dwarves that had witnessed the beast had long since passed from this world.

It took several minutes to discover the door to the Mines of Moria, and when the istar did discover the entrance, it did not, shall we say, go smoothly.

As the moon emerged from the clouds, the outlines of the Doors of Durin glowed bright silver: definitely of Elvish make. I considered boasting to Gimli about the beautiful Dwarven doors that Elves had constructed, and which had Elvish writing on it, but decided against it, for Mithrandir had begun translating the writing above the doors for those who could not read it.

"It reads 'The Doors of Durin – Lord of Moria. Speak friend, and enter.'"

The lines seemed fairly simple, as Mithrandir had guessed, but something told me that it wasn't as easy to solve as it first appeared. These were Elvish doors, after all.

The first attempt went as follows: the istar placed the tip of his staff against the center of the door, the star in-between the intertwining of two trees, and spoke in a deep, commanding voice. "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" | Gate of the Elves, open now for me! | His words in my ears appeared to be the correct ones, but apparently, the Doors of Durin did not deem him worthy (and I am sure the wizard would cut off my head if I had said that aloud).

Either way, the doors did not open.

Mithrandir's first failure had left him unnerved, and the rest of us rather confused. He narrowed his eyes in determination, before raising his arms to try again. "Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!" | Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue! |

Once again, the doors were silent.

Pippin, being Pippin, stated the obvious. "Nothing's happening."

I sighed in exasperation. Sometimes that one really does play on one's nerves. Mithrandir shot the hobbit an annoyed look, before pushing on the doors. But they remained fast.

The wizard muttered to himself (something only my Elven ears could hear). "I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves…Men…and Orcs."

Ai, Mithrandir, but these are doors to Durin's realm. It will not be as simple as that.

And again, Pippin aggravated the wizard. "What are you going to do, then?"

The istar retorted in a very annoyed tone. "Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words!"

By the end of his rant, Mithrandir had softened slightly. It was obvious that he was agitated and annoyed at his failed attempts to open the doors, but nevertheless, I saw Pippin shrink back under the wizard's gaze.

I walked over to the distressed hobbit and patted him on the shoulder lightly. "Do not be upset, Master Took." I said with a reassuring smile. "It is in a wizard's nature to be riled when failure lurks around the corner."

The hobbit looked slightly surprised at my speech to him at all: even before Moria, I had usually only spoken to Mithrandir and Estel. He seemed to recover quickly, and shot me a grin. "Thanks. And please, call me Pippin." I chuckled at his flustered appearance, before replying back with, "Indeed I will, if you will call me Cári." He nodded. I chuckled again, and moved to stand a couple of feet behind Mithandir, leaning up against one of the few trees I had seen in weeks.

The tree's inner conscience had lain dormant for some time: I could tell, as the tree seemed surprise when I asked him: Pardon me, Master Beech, but would you happen to know the correct words to open the doors of which you guard? My new friend did the tree's version of a stutter, before replying. You can talk to me? I almost snorted. Of course I can! I am a wood-elf. Although, I do not blame you for being hesitant. You probably haven't had a polite, civilized conversation with anyone in a very long time. Dwarves are always so rash.

The Beech tree quickly became happy with his new acquaintance, and seemed very willing to help in any way he could. Dwarves do not speak to me anymore, but you should be very careful in the mines, madam. Oh, he was such a gentlemanly tree! Some evils have not surfaced on this earth, but dwell deep below the plains and mountains.

I nodded politely. I knew all of this already: Moria was a dangerous place. But nevertheless, we needed to gain access. Our quest is dire, my friend: while I do not relish the thought of Moria, we must get to the other side of the Misty Mountains, and the Pass of Caradhras is devoid of hope. So please, do you have any idea of how to open the Doors of Durin? I asked politely as possible.

The tree was silent for a moment, before answering back. I do apologize, Mistress Elf, for I have lain dormant all too long. All I know is that the lines are not what they seem: complex is the way of the Elves, as I am sure you know.

I chuckled, though my spirits had been diminished significantly. It is quite alright, my friend, for my companion is very wise: he should be able to decipher the code.

The Beech sighed in relief. It has been a pleasure to speak to someone again. And for that, I thank you. May you succeed in your quest, and have safe passage through Moria.

And with that, the tree fell silent under my touch. I sighed. Be at peace, nilmo-nîn | my friend |: if we succeed, all creatures' burdens will be lifted.

I quickly turned my attention back to my companions. Farthest away from my position, Estel and Sam were relieving Bill the Pony of his packs, and were setting him free to return to Imladris. I think both of them understood in their hearts that it was unlikely the pony would survive, as there were orcs and wargs roaming the countryside, but it was a nice thought that the pony would find its way back to the House of Elrond.

Perhaps Bill would find his way home. We could only hope.

The rest of the Fellowship seemed to be taking Mithrandir's lack of success in stride: Frodo, Gimli, and Boromir were leaning against the adjacent tree, and Merry and Pippin were…wait, were they throwing stones into the water?

I meant to go stop Pippin before he could lob a stone in after Merry, but Estel reached him before I did, catching his arm in mid swing. He muttered darkly (and in a very ranger-like way). "Do not disturb the water."

The ripples of Merry's stone ran through the ominous, black lake, as Mithrandir dropped his staff and collapsed on a rock. "Oh, it's useless!" He proclaimed hopelessly.

Aragorn, Boromir, and I were still watching the water warily. The ripples had become small waves, and now the previously untouched water was, well, disturbed. There was definitely something lurking there.

Suddenly, Frodo rose from his seat, and gazed at the door with a cocked head, thinking. After a few moments, he smiled in triumph. "It's a riddle."

"Speak 'friend'…and enter." He turned to Mithrandir, who was the only one seemingly oblivious to the lake. "What's the Sindarin word for friend?"

Mellon. I answered to myself, almost subconsciously. And of course, the wizard answered the same as I.

He said the word slowly, as if expecting it to fail. But the doors opened with a loud grumbling. Sam and Gimli leapt up from their seats, and I reluctantly followed them into the Mines of Moria, Aragorn bringing up the rear behind me, casting one final glance at the lake.

Once we were inside, the darkness did press in on my chest slightly, but it was bearable. The light from the moon and stars continued to shine through the open doorway, giving me a small measure of comfort. Along with Mithrandir's crystal he set on his staff, and my own inner glow which had a strange luminous warmth (causing my companions to look at me a bit strangely), the mines were not as horrible as I had expected.

And of course, as soon as we crossed the threshold, Gimli began boasting of the riches of Moria once again. "Soon, Mistress Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin."

Gandalf blew on the crystal, making it brighter, and I subconsciously extended my light. What I saw shocked me: dead dwarves, skeletons, crumbling, horribly battered and broken. Gimli still did not see. "And they call it a mine. A mine!"

Boromir's eyes became accustomed to the gloom as well. "This is no mine; it's a tomb!" The hobbits and Gimli looked around in horror, and the dwarf let out an anguished cry. It shook my heart; but I had no time to comfort the dwarf of his brethrens' deaths. I slid down next to a dead dwarf, pulling out its fatal arrow and examining it. Damn. "Goblins!" I spat, throwing the arrow down in disgust.

I backtracked to Aragorn's side as he and Boromir drew their swords. I quickly pulled out my bow and fixed an arrow in it seconds before their swords were even out of their sheaths.

Boromir muttered darkly and with a commanding tone. "We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here! Now get out of here, get out!"

I started towards the door, my arrow never leaving its position, when I heard a strangled cry. Three voices cried out in unison. "Frodo!" And Sam called out to us. "Strider!" Aragorn whipped his head around, and ran back towards the entrance. Boromir and I were close behind.

Sam hacked and cut at…wait, were those tentacles?

No. I hissed disbelievingly to myself. Not again. I thought Arda was rid of these creatures! By the Valar—!

For a moment I was brought back many millennia ago…to the Great War, where I fought similar monsters everyday on the battlefield. A blast from the past…oh joy.

When I arrived at the Doors, the rest of the hobbits had been pushed back by the dozens of tentacles flying out of the water, and Frodo had been taken by one of them. He was currently screaming and thrashing about, hanging upside down.

I had no time to groan, for I saw a tentacle wrapping its way around Frodo's face. No, dammit! I shot my arrow in the tentacle, and it released its hold over the Halfling's airways. For now.

"Aragorn!" The terrified hobbit screamed for my friend. Estel and Boromir plunge into the lake, swords drawn, and began cutting down tentacles. I fired arrow after arrow in rapid succession, knowing that my knives would do little here. But there were just too many tentacles. Frodo was soon dangling precariously over a hole of thrashing, menacing fangs.

Aragorn let out a cry, and sliced the tentacle holding Frodo clean in half. Boromir dived, and caught the shaken hobbit in his arms. Right at that moment, I was not thinking of Boromir's temptation to the Ring: I was worried desperately about his safety.

Mithrandir emerged out of nowhere, and shouted to all of us. "Into the mines!"

I heard Boromir scream my name. "Cári!" I looked up, and within a split second, had fired a shot straight in-between Aragorn and the son of Gondor. The creature screeched in pain at the direct hit to its eye, but continued following us regardless. The hobbits ran fearfully ahead of us, and I was barely aware of Boromir rushing past me, and Estel grabbing my wrist, pulling me with him into the Mines.

The Watcher of the Gates crashed into the side of the Walls of Moria, and produced a rock-slide of epic proportions. The boulders tumbled down in front of us, Aragorn and I missing them by mere feet, and sealed off our only entrance and exit.

The mines rumbled for a few seconds, as I steadied myself with Aragorn's shoulder. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, making the inevitable fact that we were now trapped underneath a mountain bearable. For a few moments, anyway.

But then, the rock-slide stopped, and the mine truly became silent. That was when the fear set in. We aren't going to traverse the mine without a light, are we?! I panicked.

By this time, the darkness had completely extinguished my inner light, and it was pitch black. Even I could not see a thing. So when Mithrandir spoke in the darkness after our heavy breathing subsided, I felt relief explode inside me. Though, his words were not exactly comforting. "We now have but one choice."

A light appeared on the tip of the wizard's staff, almost blinding me. Oh thank the Valar.

"We must face the long dark of Moria." He walked past us to the front of the procession, and Aragorn, who was at the rear, picked up and lit a torch. "Be on your guard," The wizard warned. "There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world." This last bit was said with a hinted look at me. I nodded to him. I would be on watch for any servants of the Dark.

He began moving up the staircase, and we followed. "Quietly now. It's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

Oh yes. I thought with dread. Let us pray.


As we traveled the paths, I felt the darkness crushing in on me, collapsing on to my subconscious. Without the light that I usually felt within me, Elbereth's light, I felt empty, hollow, and terribly cold.

I followed Mithrandir's crystal, as if in a trance, not truly there. We had begun traversing a path along the wall, with a deep abyss beside us, when the ithron turned back to us. "The wealth of Moria was not in gold…or jewels…"

He looked down into the abyss. "…But Mithril."

The rest of the fellowship made to look down, and I quickly summoned the light from Aragorn's torch and Mithrandir's crystal to expand, illuminating the dark hole.

A vast rock wall plunged into depths below that even I could not see the end of. Row upon row of ladders, scaffolding, old and disused, disappeared into the mining shafts below.

I whispered softly, so only the wizard could hear me. "Shadow lies here. And death. So much death." I could hear the screams, and I reached up to my ears to block the agony. It did not help.

I felt like screaming out in frustration. I looked at Mithrandir, and his eyes reflected back sympathy and sorrow.

I shuddered. Why was it so cold in here?

Then, the light I had taken faded, my short lived relief at having warmth leaving with it. And I was once again freezing.

The istar moved on, speaking to all of us still. "Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him." This surprised me, and helped me keep my mind off of the mines (which, in retrospect, was probably the wizard's intention). Gimli looked astonished as well. "Oh, that was a kingly gift!"

"Yes," Mithrandir agreed with a small chuckle. "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

We climbed on for hours, and although we could not tell when day or night passed, I felt certain that we had traveled for three days. We had stopped to rest, but never would sleep completely. Apparently Mithrandir was as determined as I to leave this accursed place.

However, after we climbed up a steep set of stairs to a cross-roads with three possible doors, the istar looked about, glancing from one door to the next, before saying in defeat, "I have no memory of this place."


Aragorn and Boromir were sitting against a wall together, smoking their pipes, as the hobbits bickered and Mithrandir sat on a rock, silently contemplating the way.

Regardless of the smoking, I reclined next to Estel, resting my head on his lap. His fingers automatically combed through my hair, relaxing my tense and cold muscles.

Boromir seemed surprised at our position, but at this point, I couldn't care less about what they thought of us. I wanted, no needed Estel near me in this darkness.

And so we sat in companionable silence: Estel still smoking his pipe, Boromir sitting in front of the fire, and me, attempting to imagine us in Imladris, reclining against a tree instead of cold, hard stone.

Mithrandir continued to sit on his rock, eyes down, trying to remember the correct path. Frodo spoke to the wizard for a time, but I didn't bother to listen. It was most probably about Gollum: he had been tracking us for some time, and I had warned Mithrandir about his presence. I was sure the deformed hobbit would not try anything, not while we were with Frodo. He would most definitely continue following us, however; even when we arrived at Lothlórien. But he did not have the power to attack us outright.

And so, I did not worry. For there were other creatures of Sauron and his Master that I needed to concern myself with.

We rested for all of an hour, before Mithrandir finally shouted in triumph. "Oh!" He pointed towards one of the doors. "It's that way!"

Merry scurried to his feet. "He's remembered!"

Estel, Boromir , and I leapt to our feet, gathering the packs for travel once again. As we made to go down a staircase, Mithrandir said something that made all of us very anxious. "No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here." The istar rested a hand on an astonished Merry's shoulder. "If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

I shrugged. Oh well. He is a wizard, after all.

We traveled for three more hours, before emerging out of the cramped tunnels and into a deep cavernous area. Broken columns lay tumbled across the floor, and the hall stretched out who knows how many leagues. Even my eyes couldn't pierce the darkness.

Mithrandir narrowed his eyes, and holds out his staff, muttering to himself. "Let me risk a little more light."

All at once, the wizard's staff brightened considerably, and all of us squinted against the sudden onslaught of light after so many hours in dark caverns. The momentary blindness faded quickly, however, and what we saw struck us speechless, and made Gimli actually gasp.

The only one who seemed unfazed was Mithrandir. "Behold: the great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

The light stretched on and on, seemingly endless in its depth. Tall pillars and columns lines the open space, holding up the ceiling to prevent the towering mountain from collapsing down upon us.

Samwise seemed barely capable of speech. "Now there's an eye opener and no mistake."

I still couldn't decide if I was dumbfounded, bewildered, or horrified. Either way, I was thunderstruck. Maybe dwarven craftsmanship deserved some more consideration…for this was truly an amazing sight.

We walked through the hall, awed, as if in a trance. As always, Mithrandir led the way, his staff glowing brightly like a beacon. But what met us at the other side of the hall, most did not suspect. And what occurred in the hours after…would plague our entire fellowship forever.


Translations –

Lasto na nîn, Estel! – Listen to me, Estel!

Im gost – I am scared

Ananta im afad le ah Frodo aiqua rata – But I will follow you and Frodo on what ever path.

Lá raen ar amin him. Cír Mithren him húr le, Ellacári… – You should not continue to wander with me. The Grey Ships are still available for you, Ellacári…

Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen! – Gate of the Elves, open now for me!

Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen! – Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue!


Word-Count: 4,373

You know what? I've given up with the differences between Sindarin and Quenya *facedesk* Okay, the reason that some spells are in Sindarin and some are in Quenya is just because of the nature of the spell. So if you see the translation for one and you're like "Oh, why is a spell in Sindarin when it's supposed to be magic and therefore in Quenya?" Just remember…most spells are in Quenyan, but some are in Sindarin (they usually are when I'm just too lazy to translate them. Sindarin is so much easier than Quenya).

Ugh. But anyway. Next chapter is the fall of Gandalf. I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter!

But, alas, school has just started. *sobs*. I have a small break right now, but I go back on the 13th (September, 13th, 2010). And then there's school until the end of June (*sobs again*). So again, just bare with me ('cause I'm sure everybody else has to deal with school too), and take comfort in the fact that I will not abandon this story!

~CC.