Hey!

No real comments - just a thanks to my reviewers (Gaslight, SSJKarigan, TwiDawnLight, DDEC, kurleyhawk2, Isah, Dementra, Valinor, ShadowDmn, Summer, Miriamne, Saerwen and Circe le Fey).

And again, as usual, an extra special thanks to Karla, the best beta a girl could have! :)

'God, my ass hurts,' Vivienne silently moaned as she was bounced around unceasingly by the steady trotting of the pony. 'I should have just been carried!'

For the last six hours she had sat wedged uncomfortably on the small animal after her blatant refusal to be carried off of the mountain. Her only alternative was being crammed between piles of baggage and clinging desperately to poor Bill's back - a decision which she now regretted. Horseback riding had never been something she had been inclined to do as a child, and she now knew why.

If there was any upside to this situation, at least she had no time to think about how dreadful she felt – she was too busy trying not to fall off and die.

"Are we almost there yet?" she asked, coming uncomfortably close to a whine.

She was sore, sick, and exhausted, and thus far she had managed to keep her complaints solely to herself, but her convictions were beginning to wear thin as time dragged on.

"Nearly, but not quite," Aragorn answered from a little ways in front of her.

She managed to subdue her whimper of despair at being the unwelcome news, but she found she had little reason to; to the right of her, the hobbits made little attempt to hide their disappointment or resentment of the situation. She felt bad for them – the company was moving fast upon the road, a pace likely faster than the tired hobbits could easily keep up with, and more than once Vivienne was inclined to offer her seat on the pony. Her only attempt failed. Aragorn quickly shot down her offer, insisting she needed the rest. Just as well; she doubted her ability to walk long distances, and she had a feeling she would be doing enough of that in Moria soon enough.

Ever since they had left the mountain, Gandalf had been leading them ever further downwards into the unknown, and soon their road made another sharp curve around the solid wall of rock. Before them, a great body of water lay stretched out, lying deep within a great cavern that had likely once been home to something much larger.

"It is as I feared," Gandalf announced from somewhere in front. "The river has collapsed – we shall have to go round it."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Sam questioned crankily, eyeing it ominously.

Apparently this retreat down the mountain was having an ill effect on everyone's mood.

"There is a path. Up there," Gandalf replied, pointing out a narrow and unstable looking road, leading along the side of the cavern. "It is not ideal, especially given circumstances, but it will have to do."

Vivienne was sceptical of this newest predicament. The road had a very unwholesome look about it – but then again, this entire place had an unwholesome look. Most of all, she feared the water. Instead of cool and clean like the other lakes and rivers they had passed on their journey, this was dark and murky, and stank of death; the sooner they were away from here and into the mines the better. Not that she was much happier about that.

While she had never considered herself claustrophobic, this was far from regular circumstances. Despite Gimli's best attempts to make it sound majestic and grand, the fearful reactions of some of the others did not go unnoticed, and she was beginning to have her doubts.

Slowly they moved up the path, and she clung even more desperately to Bill's back as the ground shifted out from under them. Briefly she wondered if she should get off and try to walk, but she knew the answer would be no.

'There will be time for that soon enough,' she mimicked in her head.

She could see from her position on the road that the water was even colder and darker than she once thought, giving off not even the slightest hint of light or reflection.

"Where did that water come from?" she asked aloud.

"From within the Mines," Aragorn replied. "There was once a dam, bridging it off from underneath – obviously something has broken it."

"Hold on -" Vivienne said loudly in surprise. "What do you mean something? Couldn't it have just broken on its own?"

"Perhaps," Aragorn replied. "But that is unlikely. The dwarves are great craftsmen – their work is not easily undone."

"Then am I the only one who thinks it's stupid to go somewhere where some big ass Orc probably broke in? What if there's more of them around?"

"It was broken long ago – this was not new when last I came. No Orc did this, I assure you that."

"If an Orc didn't do this, than what did?" Sam asked, as the hobbits quickened their pace in desperation to separate themselves from the bleak water.

"I have no idea," Gandalf answered.

"Then how are you sure it wasn't Orcs?" he continued to question.

"Because this is not their work; this was the doing of something much fouler." Upon seeing the looks of fear on the faces of the smallest of the group, Gandalf added, "But I am sure whatever it is, it has long since left this place."

"Am I the only one who doesn't actually believe that?" Pippin asked quietly, to several nods of agreement.

"That's what I thought," he replied, his tone downcast.

"I just want to get out of here," Vivienne said in reply.

'And the sooner, the better.'

After hours of travel, finally she was able to climb off the back of the poor beast and find solid ground. She tested her legs briefly and found, though sore and stiff, she could move around freely without feeling too atrocious. Now all they had to do was wait for was for Gandalf to find the way into the Mines. Unfortunately, it seemed that was easier said than done.

After some mild bickering between the group, it was revealed that the door to the mountain lay hidden, and only a password would open it; a password which was thus far unknown to the old wizard.

As they took seats in front of the dark water, the great entrance behind them, they looked upon the silver lines that traced an intricate pattern upon the heavily hewn doors. Not the slightest hint of an opening was to be seen.

"Can't we just bust them open?" Vivienne asked, aiming her question at no one in particular.

"The craftsmanship of the Dwarves is too strong for that," Gandalf replied, as he remained by the door, thinking intently, many of his spells spent. "Even if we had the time or the tools, it would be of no avail. They would crumble upon themselves before revealing their secret."

"So what do we do now?" Merry questioned.

"Well that's quite obvious, isn't it? We find the password," Gandalf replied.

"But I thought you had to know the password to get in?" Pippin asked.

"Well, of course you do," Gandalf answered. "But that doesn't mean even a fool can't find it if he searches long enough."

"Then maybe we should let Pip have a try," Merry replied quietly, causing Vivienne to snort in laughter.

She turned just in time to see Boromir to shake his head at her, and look away. She wondered at it briefly before remembering the reason behind it.

'Oh, I forgot,' she thought dryly. 'He hates my laugh.'

While she would concede that, granted, snorting wasn't very ladylike even where she came from, it wasn't something she would change to better suit him.

'Besides, my mom thinks it's cute,' she thought, grinning into her hand, attempting to hide her stupid smile from the group.

The foolish, whimsical reflections of home were becoming more frequent as time passed, her surroundings more and more surreal. All she wanted to do was go back to her normal, boring life, before this place became too much and completely got the best of her.

"Maybe the password's on the door," Merry said loudly, watching Gandalf try spell after spell, and failing miserably.

"Don't be foolish," he replied. "No one would be that stupid."

"Maybe we should try 'open sesame'..." she suggested lamely.

Her comment went completely ignored.

'This cannot be happening,' she thought glumly. 'First the paths are being watched, then I almost die on that stupid mountain, and now we're stuck outside a giant cave. What more can possibly go wrong?'

So busy was she caught up in her own thoughts and negativity that she completely missed the shouts of happiness that echoed around her. It was only the unmistakable feel of the ground shuddering beneath her that brought her back to the goings on around her.

"What happened?" she asked aloud, whirling around in surprise.

"The doors are open!" Merry shouted in reply.

"What, really?" she said, only to come face to face with a black looming void. The doors had swung open wide, revealing the secret entrance into Moria.

"Woah..." she gasped in amazement. "No – friggen - way."

Boromir sat heavily upon the nearest rock, eager for some respite before continuing on. For near half a year he had travelled almost unceasingly, and he was desperate to return to his home; his people were in dire need, and even now he had no knowledge of how they fared. In all his time absent, innumerable things may have changed or been lost. What of the holding of Osgiliath? Of his brother, Faramir - of his father's rule? And what of Gondor itself? Did she struggle on, limping on in her haggard pace, pushing ever forward, and praying for a miracle?

He must return to his people, no matter the cost. An aching back and tired feet meant nothing in the face of the safety of his people - if only others would see the light, and join in the aid. He wished more than ever to be back in fair Minas Tirith, fighting the enemy and meeting it eye to eye, not creeping here like a thief in the night.

After much waiting, at long last Gandalf had unlocked the secret entrance of Moria - and not without the help of the hobbits. At least they had come in handy for a change; he had grown fond of the little folk, that he would willingly admit, but whether they would be anything other than a burden on their journey was another thing entirely.

Without their aiding the old Wizard, they would likely have never found a way into the Mines, and that, at least to his mind, would have been more of a blessing than a curse.

No good would come of this place, of that he was certain - Aragorn shared his fears. They would have taken any other path, if there had been a way, but the old Wizard had left them little choice, using Frodo to fight his battles for him. If the hobbit's mind could be bent so easily by that old man, what would the power of the ring he carried do to him?

Already Boromir felt the power of it, weighing in upon his mind, and now he knew it was that which he had felt on the mountain - no conjuring of Saruman. If a man such as he felt its weight, then the hobbit would surely crumble soon, and who would be left to take up his place?

Only time would tell of such consequences, but for now, an oath he had made, and an oath he would keep; and if the young hobbit did fall prey to its power, then perhaps he could be swayed. Perhaps he could save Gondor yet - but that was not his mission. Now his task was to protect the ring and the bearer, make it safely to Lorien and, from there, home.

He glanced back at the water, waiting for the others to finish collecting their scattered packs and stores. To his side, Aragorn was busy attempting to convince Sam of how foolish a notion it was to try and bring a pony into a mine, though the young hobbit would hear little of it; the sound of Aragorn's stern words of wisdom and Sam's pleas were beginning to grate on his ears. Of all the things that had happened today, all this foolishness was the last thing the company, and particularly he, needed. The sooner they were in the mines, the closer they would be to home.

Growling in frustration at the helplessness that clouded his mind, he picked up a loose rock and threw it violently into the dark water. The lake had been bearing heavily on him since their arrival, and he was glad to have some excuse to injure it. He watched with satisfaction as it plopped heavily in the water a long ways away, sending ripples cascading on its smooth, unpolished surface.

"Boromir, why did you do that?" a stern voice spoke from behind him.

He turned to see Frodo walking closer to the surface of the water, watching it carefully.

"That water has an unwholesome feel about it," the hobbit admonished. "I wish you would not have disturbed it so."

Boromir continued watching the water, ignoring the hobbit completely - and for good reason. While the water had quickly returned to its natural calm state, it retained that smoothness no longer. From a point a little ways away from Boromir's original disturbance, the pool began to slowly ripple once more.

All were silent as Aragorn joined them, and watched the water intently.

While they may have thought it a trick of their tired eyes moments before, it was unmistakable now; something had been disturbed in the water.

"Curse this all," Boromir swore. "Into the mines! Quickly!"

They grabbed the rest of the gear and moved swiftly in behind the remainder of the company, who had moments before begun to venture into its dark depths. Soon they were shrouded in darkness. While the bright moon had illuminated their paths out in the open, it was of little help here.

"Gandalf," Legolas called out.

"Yes, yes, I know, Master Elf - I suppose you will be wanting more of that blasted fire now!" Gandalf answered, from somewhere ahead in the dark.

"If you will grant it!" he replied with cheer.

'Does nothing faze that blasted race?' Boromir thought, highly aggravated.

"Here now," Gandalf replied after a moment, and slowly the tip of his great staff began to glow with an unnatural white light. "That's better."

Boromir was sure that within seconds, Gandalf was biting his tongue.

Instead of a beautiful stone cavern, hand crafted by the peerless tools of the dwarves, they were faced with a sight that would cause even the mightiest heart to quail.

Littered all around them and covered in cobwebs thick as a sailor's net, were the bodies of Gimli's fallen kin, their bones bare and white. Arrows protruded from every part of them, standing out almost as starkly as the dulled armour that still adorned their bodies, and little doubt was there of the cause of their death - fallen, they all had, bravely and magnificently in the midst of battle, and now they lay rotted and forgotten, left alone to bear the ravages of time.

"Orcs!" Gimli cried.

The Dwarf roared in sorrowful agony, as he looked upon the desecrated bodies of his fallen brothers.

"This is no Mine!" Boromir cried, his voice echoing throughout the hellish cavern. "It's a tomb!"

"Everyone out!" Aragorn bellowed needlessly, for already the company were backing quickly out of the makeshift cemetery.

Within moments they all regretted the order, as a new danger encroached upon them, unwelcome, and unlooked for.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam cried in fear, and the young hobbit was ripped away from the company by a force unknown.

With a flash Boromir was upon them, Aragorn at his side, their swords at the ready.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked sharply, as Frodo scrambled back to shore, and Sam clung hopelessly to his own short dagger - one that would have to serve as a sword for its undersized master.

"I don't rightly know, sir!" Sam cried, backing away further into the mine. "One minute we were standing here, the next something tried to grab Mister Frodo! I killed it, I did, or at least I think I did! It went back into the water, sir - over there!" he said quickly, his breath short and his face flustered from anxiety as he pointed out the spot.

"What-" Boromir began, but before he had a chance to finish uttering his question, dozens of distorted, slimy, snake-like tentacles burst from the deep, and drove straight for them.

Frodo was again wrenched away from the group and pulled mercilessly into the icy lake.

"Everyone back into the Mine!" Aragorn roared, unsheathing his sword, and rushing the water.

Boromir followed closely behind as they began hacking relentlessly against the wretched arms.

All around him they flung, every arm severed being replaced by many more. The dirty water splashed cold and wet against him, impairing his sight and causing him to gasp for air. He slashed again and again against this monstrous creature, trying desperately to reach the small hobbit. He could catch no glance of Aragorn, but had no time to wonder at his fate.

This was strange new devilry, of that there was no doubt, and Boromir could not trick himself into believing it was by some unlucky chance that the ring bearer was the target of this creature's wrath. Evil knew evil - and it wanted the ring for itself.

Finally he caught his first glance of both Frodo and Aragorn, the latter fighting desperately to regain his captured friend.

The poor hobbit was tossed around from arm to arm of the ghastly creature that had for the first time chosen to reveal itself completely. Boromir had never seen its like before, and never wished to see again. It appeared to be made up of all arms, save the hideous, malformed, titanic thing one would call a face. In reality, it appeared to be nothing more than a giant, gaping maw with row upon row of cruel, jagged teeth.

With one last great swing of his sword, the small hobbit was flung haphazardly into his arms.

"Aragorn!" he cried out, as the ranger's attention turned to them.

Wordlessly they retreated into the cave, Boromir in the lead, clinging tightly to the wet, childlike creature in his arms, while Aragorn bravely guarded the rear against further assault.

Legolas stood by the open cave entrance, firing arrow after arrow over their heads. Had it not been for the Elves unquestionable aim, all may have been lost.

"Move!" Boromir yelled to the company, the smallest of whom stood fixed in horror.

The girl seemed most affected of all, her eyes wide in terror, her body completely rigid, and her gazed fixed on the terrible sight ahead.

"MOVE!" he bellowed again, shoving her roughly into the Mine, and not stopping to see where she landed. He could live with her complaints, as long as she was alive to give them.

Just as they managed to scramble back into the shelter of the Mines, the sound of the creature tearing mercilessly at the rock reached their ears, and they watched as centuries of labour was ruthlessly destroyed.

Within seconds it was over, and all around them there was darkness once more.

"Oh, poor Bill!" was the only words echoed in the black, as Sam sobbed unashamedly for the loss of his friend. "Out there, all alone! And what about us? What are we supposed to do now?"

"It seems," Gandalf answered, his voice hard and sombre, "that we now have little choice but to continue on, and hope our presence here goes unnoticed."

"This was no mere coincidence," Boromir muttered to himself.

The silence of the caves caused his voice to echo across the great hall, and all in the company heard, and marked his words.

"Evil stalks us. Had we gone through the gap of Rohan, we would not have been sealed into a premature tomb."

And yea, I really agree Saerwen - I think that describes them perfectly! Thank you! :)