Title: Fighting Another War

Author: CrimsonSnowflake

Warning: A lot of violence in this one.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

A/N: My treat for you all, hope you like!

"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called 'Facts'. They are the brute beasts of intellectual domain." - Thomas Hobbes, 1588 - 1679.

Chapter 10:

Horror At Its Best

It wasn't without fear that Harry, in union with his companions, raised his sword and defended himself from the onslaught of enemies. It was quite the opposite really, his heart pounded in his chest, fear and adrenaline pumped in his blood, coursing through his veins at an unusual speed. He had never fought as many as he was now expected to do, and the mere thought that he and his companions might not come out of this fight alive, truthfully, scared the shit out of him. His hands were shaking as his sword clashed with that of a horrifying orc; the forceful vibrations that went through him almost forced his beloved weapon out of his hands, nearly leaving him defenseless.

With a poorly concealed yelp, Harry jumped to the side, barely avoiding a blood stained axe from penetrating his skull. Chaos surrounded him as his companions roared and fought, taking down orc after orc, without a single scratch on them. Gandalf, with his staff raised high up in the air, protected the hobbits with a fierce fury that made you realize that he was not just any old man; this was someone to be reckoned with and not to be underestimated. It brought a new determinedness to Harry, to see his old friend in such a state. With new will and hope he moved from his unmoving and vulnerable position and began killing orc after orc, not caring about the black blood that stained his clothes and skin.

A grunt escaped his chapped lips as he drove his sword straight through the marrow of one orc, while at the same time dodging the sword of another. A foot rose high up in the air only to connect with the sturdy chin of his attacker, with a jerk he ripped his sword out of the orc he was leaning against, only to drive it into the other orc's chest. A slight resistance told him that he'd reached its heart.

Ducking and attacking, running away and storming forward, after some time the fight seemed to turn into a deathly dance, a dance where if you missed one step you would also lose your own life. No mercy was to be found from either side, and for a while, as he continued to fight undefeated a slight hope sparkled in Harry's eyes, perhaps they would get out of it alive after all… perhaps they would defeat all those surrounding them and be able to just walk out of the mine, without any disturbances. It was a fools thought, he knew. But then again, if having hope was something that made you into a fool, then a fool he would be.

He wouldn't, in the midst of battle, give up on hope, for that could be his undoing. Giving up hope could be the one thing that would lead to his death. Harry didn't want to die, he didn't want to die without having experienced the love of a lover, he didn't want to die without having had the chance to establish a family of his own, to have a wife (or husband) and kids, and perhaps a dog or a cat. He wanted to have the chance to visit his parent's grave before he surrendered himself to death, to be able to tell his friends one last goodbye and tell them to move on. He had always known that his chance of surviving the war with Voldemort was as close to zero as one could get, but he'd never thought that he would die by any hand other than Voldemort's own. It was unthinkable, had always been unthinkable.

And yet, here he was, very close to doing exactly that. He was incredibly close to dying by the hands of Sauron's forces. To be truthful, he would have preferred it if it really was Voldemort standing in front of him, instead of some unknown enemy. At least that way he would have been assured that no one would ever forget him, if he were to die here, in this mine, he would only be known as the kid who dropped out of nowhere and was picked up, out of pity, by an old wizard. He didn't want that. He never wanted that.

Tears, which he had promised himself to never show, overwhelmed him, tainting his vision and making it more and more difficult to defend himself. The mere thought that his friends would have no idea what had happened to him just threw him off. The thought that they would, perhaps, have to go to an empty grave with his name engraved upon it, even though they still had a slight hope in their hearts that he was still somewhere out there, alive.

The presence of Gimli by his side, defending him when he himself couldn't, brought him out of his self-pitying, reminding him that he still had a job to do, and that was to protect the ring and the ring-bearer at all costs. With a jerky movement, he dried his tears and once again threw himself into battle, joining Gimli in his battle roar ignoring its slight hoarseness, no doubt from the dwarf's own crying. Both he and Gimli had nothing and everything to lose on this journey and therefore, unconsciously, they understood each other, they supported each other, and Harry had to admit it was, to be truthful, one hell of a relief. While it wasn't something that he would normally be happy for, knowing that he wasn't the only one having hardships because of their journey was oddly enough helping him in putting himself back together enough so that he could keep on fighting, keep on defending.

A loud boom echoed throughout the room as the chamber door was thrown open, revealing a large, hideous looking troll. Nothing, not even a small piece of clothing, with the exception of a large chain, adorned the gruesome troll's body. Everything that hung (disgust welled up in Harry as he took in the sight of the troll's wrinkly thing between his legs), was allowed to fly around freely along with the creatures hazardous looking club.

He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as he took in the second troll he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

The whole room, even the orcs, froze as the new arrival let loose a booming growl, baring his ugly, yellow teeth in an almost threatening grin as he took in his next victims. An almost malevolent, yet captive air surrounded the large troll as the last of the growl's echoes ceased to exist. Taking a small step back, Harry shakily raised his sword in defense, trying as hard as he could to maintain eye contact and not falter. If he did, then the troll would surely see that as him submitting and that just wouldn't do. He wouldn't admit his defeat before he'd even fought the creature, no matter how much he dreaded to actually wave his puny sword towards the large monster.

"Move!" Aragorn roared as the troll moved into action, slamming his club down on the place where Harry had previously been occupying.

Clumsily, he scattered to his feet again, only to have to once again dodge, throwing himself to the ground to avoid the troll's massive chain from hitting him. With a groan, Harry crawled away from his attacker, rolling from side to side to avoid the orcs' attacks as well as avoiding his large enemy's continuing assaults. He barely registered his companions' desperate attempts at coming to his aid, so consumed was he by ducking and dodging, rolling and crawling, it had even become a personal mantra.

A scream erupted from his throat and spilled over his lips as a sharp, almost all consuming pain ripped through his shoulder. Black spots covered his vision as he desperately tried to crawl away from the enemy, even though he had no idea in what direction he was, indeed, crawling. He could feel the thick blood, which probably was a deep red color, flow out of his pounding shoulder, running down his arm and leaving a blood trail on the filthy ground.

Vaguely, he could hear Gandalf and Legolas' voices shout his name in union, one in the same pained tone as the other, as If they were desperate to get to him and that it brought them physical pain when they couldn't. The thumping noise of the troll's footsteps coming nearer and nearer sent a rush of panic through him, his breath sped up as he with one last effort, dragged himself forward, not at all caring if he was going right into a group of orcs so long as he could escape the horrible fate of being squashed by someone's foot. Not once did the idea of rising to his feet so he could run jump into his mind.

All the while his heart thumped in a mixture of composed and frantic motions.

The devastating attack that he was sure would soon descend upon him, never came. Not even a single weapon managed to get near him as the world abruptly halted, freezing as if ice surrounded it. Muffled screams surrounded him as it almost seemed as if everything around him moved at a slower pace than he himself did. A warm arm latching onto his waist caught his attention, bringing him out of his stupor as the appendage nudged him to his feet and into action. His breath came in sharp gasps as he, without allowing himself to think about the pain shooting through his shoulder, followed the one helping him away from the revolting troll.

Steel weapons and stone forced into the air by the large creature's club flew through the air, barely missing Harry and his savior. Absentmindedly, he took in the pained screeches of the orcs that had been caught by the swinging weapon, the enraged cries of their comrades as they realized that their own troll was killing them as well as the ones they were told to capture. Yet, the malicious glint in their yellow eyes never faltered, for to them, the thought of being allowed to torture the innocent beings infront of them to the point of insanity, pushed the small flash of anger at losing a comrade out of their minds.

The only thing that stood in their minds were of how they were to sully the elf's perfection and beauty, how they were to teach the hobbits pain unlike anything else, and finally how they could use the dark haired beauty with those unnatural green gems for their own pleasure. The mere thought made a glint of lust light up their eyes, making them seem even more sinister then they already were.

"Come on, Harry," Boromir heatedly whispered in his ear, practically dragging the young wizard around with him at the same time as he fought to defend them both. "Snap out of it!"

With a great show of power Boromir lifted Harry up off the ground, barely managing to throw him out of the way as a dark sword shot forward. A curse tumbled, ungracefully, over the man's chapped and beaten up lips as he kept one eye on the enemy and the other on the place where his companion had landed. Luckily, the throw seemed to have shaken Harry out of whatever trance he was in, for he was up on his feet with his faithful sword in his hands a minute after his rough landing. With a relieved sigh Boromir turned back to the battle and left Harry to defend himself.

A snarl tainted Harry's features as he once again threw himself into battle, ignoring the continuing throbbing that alerted him of his injured shoulder. He had no time to tend to his injuries now, a whole army of orc and goblins and a troll after his life wasn't something that gave you a lot of time for breaks. This was a battle and a fierce one at that. They couldn't afford moments like the one he'd had; it was a sign of weakness to zone out as he had done. Only the help of Boromir had kept him from being killed.

He was, to say it nicely, furious with himself.

Heatedly, he took his anger out on the enemy, slashing them down, spearing them with his sword. Not once did he relent as he skillfully, if a little unsteadily, danced around the room, avoiding the troll as much as was possible. Screeches filled the air, battle cries haunted the room and bodies fell everywhere. The air stunk with the tainted scent of blood and sweat, every now and then a shower of rocks flew about the room, stirred by the menacing looking club clutched in the roaring troll's hands.

A strike of fear and outright terror flew through him as he saw the troll looming over Frodo with a spear in its right hand. The downright terrified expression painting the small hobbit's face just served to make the situation seem even more hopeless. Without thinking he ran forward, hurriedly moving by an unconscious Aragorn as he raised his sword high up in the air, even he knew that he wasn't fast enough to make it, but he didn't find it in himself to just stand there as his friend was practically speared like an animal. It seemed as if the world only contained the troll, Frodo and Harry himself, everything else surrounding them ceased to exist as the long spear descended, connecting with Frodo's body.

"Harry!" Legolas' voice penetrated his mind, alerting him of the fact that he was about to run straight into the deathly zone that was the area around the troll, Frodo's killer.

"Get back, Harry," The elf roared as he fired off an arrow, torn between his common sense and his want to go to Harry and comfort him. "Now! Wait until we've felled the beast, then you can go!"

With a steady gaze fixed upon Frodo, Harry ceased his movements forward, ripping his eyes away from the sight of a frozen hobbit in favor of looking at the blond with a stare that seemed to scream 'well then, take him down'. Emerald eyes turned cold, appearing like green stone instead of the soft mass and tissue they really were.

The raging fight continued on as the troll moved away from his victim, a strangely victorious glint in his eyes as he found himself another target. It let out a booming roar as it headed for the cling of terrified hobbits, raising its club high up in the air it stormed forward at a great speed, anticipating the moment when he'd squash the small and vulnerable creatures with his weapon. Screams rang throughout the chamber as the Fellowship, as a whole, moved forward to stop the troll from carrying out the evil deed. Axes flew forward, thrown by Gimli with a great precision. Arrows rained down upon their enemy, covering the ones running towards the troll with swords as well as keeping said troll from noticing them.

Chaos surrounded them as the hobbits finally came out of their stupor, only to throw themselves on the troll's back, hacking away at its head, causing it to flail around, roaring it's annoyance and anger. The orcs still occupying the room scattered everywhere, trying desperately to avoid being trampled by the panicking creature. Harry, whom had joined his friends in their fight, followed them, cutting them down and preventing them from escaping. He wouldn't allow them to escape, he wouldn't allow them to get away with killing Frodo, it was their entire fault, they had released the troll, they had come after them with the intent to kill, so it was only fitting that Harry should do the same to them.

Blood flew everywhere as he decapitated one of them, almost reveling in the brutal act. Later he would admit that the notion of Frodo's death had pushed him over the edge for a slight moment. But, as he was right in the middle of it, he couldn't find it in himself that he was acting cruel and, he shuddered at the thought, a little similar to Voldemort. Yet, he wouldn't stop; this was something that would save his own and the lives of his companions. He was in a different era, it was kill or be killed here, and he was perfectly aware of that fact, hell, it was probably therefore Gandalf had actually taken the time to teach him sword fighting.

With a grimace and a hiss of disgust he drove his sword straight through an orc's spine, hurriedly drawing it out again so he could block another sword heading his way. With a resonating clang, that could easily be felt in his wrist, he blocked it, his foot shooting out to connect with the vile thing's abdomen. Without even waiting to see if the creature fell to the ground, he ducked and swirled around to face another opponent, driving his sword into its flesh, cutting through some arteries as he did so. No need to say that the orc fell to the ground, heading for a slow and painful death.

Absentmindedly, he registered that his companions were battling the troll with a fierce determinedness, and that was only proven when the hideous thing finally fell to the ground with a loud thump. Two arrows were sticking out of its throat that indicated that it had been Legolas who had been the one to end its life. Still, no matter how much Harry wanted to turn around and run for Frodo he couldn't. He still had these orcs that he was currently fighting to deal with. And so as the rest of the fellowship ran towards Frodo he continued on fighting, cutting down orc after orc, as well as having to endure a few well placed cuts himself. The various scratches on his body and the constant pain in his shoulder, coupled with the fatigue that was catching up with him, served to make his movements more slow and predictable. By now only three orcs remained out of the ten he had been fighting, but he could easily tell that if he didn't get any help soon, those three orcs would be the end of him.

Panting, he took a step to the left, raising his sword and blocking the blow aimed for his throat. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple, revealing his weariness and encouraging his enemies to speed up their attacks. They were working like one now, instead of attacking as three different individuals, they had understood that they needed to cooperate in order to take him down, and since they were creatures that rejoiced in bloodshed, they would do anything in their power to achieve it. A loud yelp escaped him as, finally, the orcs' teamwork paid out and they managed to knock his sword out of his hands.

No need to say, he was defenseless, cornered and practically screwed.

Slowly, as his opponents advanced forward, he moved backwards, unknowingly trapping himself against the chamber's cold stone wall. As his progress backwards halted, he realized his mistake, his face turning a pale white as all the blood rushed down from it. Horror seized him as he saw the bloodthirsty and victorious glints in the orcs' eyes. There was nothing between him and they that could stop his death now, he was as vulnerable as a newborn baby, and he doubted that the hideous creatures in front of him would find it in themselves to show mercy. Closing his eyes, he prepared himself for his first meeting with death.

He didn't notice that his companions had noticed his dilemma, he didn't know that they had all, including Frodo, immediately risen from their positions on the ground, drawing their weapons with a dangerous glint in their eyes. The only thing he could focus on, the only thing that floated around in his mind was the thought that he was about to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Pained screeches, so horrifying that he wanted to cover his ears, filled the air as one of the orcs approaching suddenly fell to the ground, an arrow standing proud and tall out of the back of its neck. Green eyes flew open in surprise to take in the sight before him, though he still didn't forget the looming presence of the two other orcs, he was very confident that their attention had been guided away from him and to the more imminent threat.

The two other orcs released an enraged roar, one going to meet the new threat, while the other headed straight for Harry, a crazy glint in his eyes as if he was obsessed with ending the young wizard's life. The sound of metal grinding against metal reached Harry's ears as he barely managed to dodge the hacking motion of his attacker's sword. Again and again he dodged, rolling around on the ground, desperately trying to avoid having his chest pierced by the sharp sword.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a foot connected with his stomach, forcing the air out of him and making him curl in on himself, clutching his stomach as if that alone could force the pain away and bring him back some air. His ears rang with the constant sound of a sword fight, of the distressed yells of his companions and, finally, the triumphant, almost mocking, laughter of the orc as he raised his sword high up in the air before, swiftly, forcing it downwards in a cutting motion.

The world ceased to exist and the only thing that Harry was aware of, was the dangerously, sharp, glinting sword edge headed straight for his stomach, the orc, no doubt, wanted to prolong his suffering and therefore chose a death that would be slow and painful, instead of heading straight for the heart as one would normally do. What little breath he had, seemed to slow down to nothing as his green eyes stared at the pointy sword. He found himself wondering exactly how sharp it was; would it cut straight through his flesh without any trouble whatsoever? Or would it, perhaps, need a little help in the way wiggling it around so that the wound would become bigger, and thusly, easier to enter. He closed his eyes, preparing for the impact.

It never came.

A choked sound came from above him at the same time as a heavy weight landed on top of him, nearly squeezing the life out of him with its heaviness. Abruptly, his eyes shot open, taking in the yellow, lifeless eyes that were looking straight at him. Black blood coated his body and clothes as the liquid escaped from the wound that had, obviously, killed the creature. Panicking, he frantically tried to push the dead body off of him, cringing in disgust as he finally was able to leap up to his feet and away from the deceased orc. Hurriedly, he backed away from it, inching backwards so, finally, he was standing beside Gandalf, taking comfort in the wizard's calming presence.

"Are you alright?" The old man questioned, concerned eyes shadowed by a pair of bushy eyebrows swiveling around to gaze at his youthful companion.

"Yeah, just a little shaken up." He replied, though he immediately contradicted his words by wincing as the throbbing pain in his shoulder reminded him that all was, in fact, not well, and that he would soon have to get his injury looked at.

"Good, I'm afraid you'll have no time to recuperate, we have to leave, at once." Gandalf stated as he ushered Harry through the chamber's secret doorway, looking behind him all along to make sure that the rest of the fellowship were following. Screeches of more orcs following forced them to pick up their pace, fleeing from the battle scene, leaving behind them even more bodies than had been there before.

It wasn't necessary to say that their journey through the mines hadn't gone as well as they had hoped. The mere fact that they were running for their very lives, trying to escape a hoard of orcs that thirsted for their blood, only served to strengthen that notion. Sticks and stone seemed to nothing other than bothersome, they stuck out of the ground in the most inconvenienced places, tripping both Harry and the hobbits and slowing the fellowship's advancement forward. The shrill cries of the enemy came closer and closer as they came out on open, well as open as a mine could be, land.

Axes, spears, shields and swords were only some of the weapons that were held by the thick hands of their enemies. No matter how hard or fast they speeded forward they were still caught, trapped like rats as the orcs and goblins in large numbers surrounded them , snarling and leering, mostly at Harry, as their eyes glinted with a triumphant look.

"Steady…" Aragorn's grave voice said, encouraging them to stop their anxious shifting and instead show no fear.

A large lump had suddenly formed itself in Harry's throat, forcing him to swallow continuously in a vain attempt at making it disappear. His limbs trembled with the effort it took him to actually be able to stand on his own two feet, fear coursed through him like a drug, affecting him in the most unseemly way as was possible in the situation they currently were stuck in. Shakily, he took a few steps backwards, wanting to get as much distance as was possible between himself and the hungry eyes of the enemy. Oh, he wasn't so innocent as to not know what was on their minds, he knew perfectly well that they wanted to ravish him, to use his body in a most cruel and tainted way.

One orc, that would have seemed comical with his big yellow eyes if it hadn't been for the rest of his body, was especially intimidating. His eyes seemed to glow in an even more alarming way than those of his fellow orcs did, the indiscreet way he licked his lips sent terrified shivers down Harry's back and the jerky movements forward made him the one Harry was most worried about. But that feeling was abruptly chased away as a loud boom resonated throughout the mines, warning them that something bigger and stronger than the danger they were currently facing was heading their way. The fact that the orcs and goblins immediately froze at the sound, only seemed to confirm that fact.

And suddenly, as another boom was heard, the enemy scattered, running away with sharp, fearful cries. Silence surrounded the Fellowship as they stood there, alone and about to face the unknown. Their hearts raced as they raised their weapons, listening for any sign that the danger had come nearer. Another rumble, much closer this time, informed them that they would, indeed, have to face the new threat.

"A balrog." Legolas' voice suddenly rang, heavy with fear as the elf moved slightly backwards, closer to Harry.

"You're sure?" Gandalf suddenly asked, pale as white as his suddenly old looking eyes swiveled around to stare at the blond.

"Run, all of you! This is a foe far beyond any of your skills!" Gandalf shouted as he saw Legolas' nod. "Run!"

And run they did. Like the wind they flew across the ground, trying desperately to get away from the monster that was breathing hot air at back of their necks. Harry's hair stood on end as he, gasping for breath, followed after those in front of him, stopping for air was not an option now, listening to his screaming muscles and the pain travelling through his shoulder was not a luxury that he could afford, the only thing he could do was run. Run for his life.

Like a leopard chasing after its prey they ran, moving with a speed only a man chased by death himself could manage. The constant rumbling of the balrog behind them served to give them wings, allowing them to run without any incidents whatsoever. It truly was convenient that, for once, nothing seemed to be in the way of their escape. Darkness surrounded them as they hurried along, running through an open door only to move down a set of stairs. No one noticed the way Gandalf lingered behind them, uttering a few words to Aragorn before pushing the man before him, so great was their hurry to escape.

Relief filled them as they finally reached the final set of stairs they had been seeking, only to have that relief be washed out of them as they saw the large hole that split it in two. It seemed that none of them knew what to do until, finally, Legolas decided to jump, with a grace that left Harry feeling jealous, over the gap. Immediately, upon regaining his balance he turned around and urged the other to follow his example.

"Jump!" He shouted.

Gandalf, who had just caught up with them, didn't hesitate to do as the elf said, with a muffled grunt he pushed off the ground, showing an immense trust in the blond standing on the other side. It was over as sudden as Gandalf had decided to jump, with a soft thud the old wizard landed on the ground, steadying himself with the help of Legolas. Boromir followed next, with Merry under one arm and Pippin under the other, he released a strained yell and jumped over with all his might. And that was when it all went wrong. Harry had known that their escape had been too good to be true; he had known that it was a very unlikely thing that they wouldn't meet anything that would try to stop them from their wild run through the mines. As a large piece of rock fell down into the abyss, cutting them off even more from their escape route Harry could have sworn that he stopped breathing for a moment.

The large gap did not discourage Aragorn, though; as if he hadn't noticed the increasing crack he grabbed Sam and threw him over as if he was nothing more than a feather. The hobbit landed safely in the arms of Boromir. Harry let out a reassured breath, only to hurriedly draw it back in again as the ranger moved towards his direction.

"Don't you dare…" He warned, raising his hands up infront of his chest in a clear defensive movement.

"We don't have time for this, Harry. "The man said as he inched towards the wizard."We both know that you won't be able to get over there without some help. Now stop being difficult and let me help you."

Without waiting for the young man to yield, Aragorn grabbed his waist and effortlessly lifted him up off the ground and threw him into the air. A scream, muffled by Harry covering his own mouth with his right hand, erupted from the young man's throat, snakes twisted around in his stomach as he suddenly felt the effect of gravity kicking in, forcing him down to the ground once again. With horror he closed his eyes, convinced that he would meet his death. He didn't; in fact, his landing was nothing but soft as he was surrounded by a pair of arms.

"Don't worry, I got you." Boromir whispered into his ear as he gently lowered him to the ground.

There was, however, no time to be grateful, for in that exact moment Gimli, with a great roar, threw himself over the gap, a triumphant and proud grin on his face as he came nearer and nearer to the side Harry was currently standing on. And as he watched the dwarf's flailing limbs in the air one thought struck his mind.

Dwarves were too proud for their own good.

The world continued moving along as Gimli finally landed on the other side, though he did need the help of Legolas in form of the elf dragging him onto safe grounds by his beard, Harry could still hear the dwarf grumbling about the abuse as, suddenly, a great roar echoed throughout the caves. The balrog was getting closer. Harry trembled at the mere presence of it; it wasn't something he would want to face. Yet here he was, running from it with an overwhelming fear coursing through his veins.

At the moment, Harry hated his life more than anything.

A loud cracking noise filled his ears as a large piece of rock, due to the vibrations from the balrog's footsteps, tore loose from the ceiling, dropping down right behind Aragorn and Frodo, cutting off any chance of going back. Even from where Harry was standing he could see the drastic way in which Frodo's face turned white. It wasn't an understatement to say that the hobbit was nothing less than terrified, as was proper in such a dangerous and hopeless situation, the slight swaying of the rock they were standing on only served to worsen their situation so much more. Though surprisingly enough, or perhaps not so surprising when considering exactly who he was, Aragorn kept his cool, seemingly not at all affected by their discouraging position.

A half choked cry escaped the confounds of Harry's mouth as the mauled part of the staircase swayed dangerously close to the side, nearly tipping over and throwing its occupants down into the dark chasm beneath them. It was nerve-wracking to stand there, having no other choice than to be an observer rather than a participator, his stomach rolled at every movement the cut off rock made. His heart and lungs seemed to be working too fast for their own good, he had the vague notion that if they were to speed up any more they would collapse in exhaustion, not an ideal thing considering their dilemma. If he had been able to look into a mirror he would have seen that his eyes had taken on a light green hue, shining with fear, fatigue, and anxiousness.

The sound of Aragorn shouting caught his attention, steering his mind from his own feelings and towards the actions of the ring bearer and the ranger. The staircase's movement had become decidedly wider, rocking back and forth as the balrog, surrounded by flames as it was, came nearer, looming over them like a great cloud, the only thing keeping it from reaching them was the sturdy stone wall that separated them. The sound of rock grinding against rock filled his ears as he watched as Frodo and Aragorn prepared themselves for the great leap, moving along with every movement the unsteady ground they stood upon made. It was as if they were standing upon a weight that, no matter what they did, would never become steady.

The stone connected with the staircase with a resonating boom.

The world turned into a hurried blur.