- "Is magic dead, or has it not yet been born?" -
Ten – A Bond of Fellowship
Frodo. Sam. Merry. Pippin. Aragorn. Gandalf. Legolas. Gimli. Boromir. Eragon. Saphira.
These were the names that the annals of history would remember, were the quest of the Fellowship to be successful. Were it not, there would be no more records of history at all, no more Men or Elves, nor Dwarves nor Hobbits, for the whole of Middle-Earth would be swept away in the raging inferno of the Dark Lord Sauron's malice. There had never been such a group in all of recorded history as theirs and if they failed in their quest, there would never be any other.
And as they marched, the eyes of those above watched.
The company journeyed south, intending to make for the Gap of Rohan. Now that Saruman had been dealt a crushing blow, the pass was believed to be open and lightly defended. If so, it would enable the eleven to cross safely into Rohan and march from Westfold to the Nindalf. Elrond had mentioned Lothlórien and Eragon could not understand why.
"Lórien is not on our road to Mordor if we take the Gap of Rohan," he said to Gandalf, not attempting to hide his confusion. "Fangorn separates the two unless you wish to cut through The Wold, but that would require doubling back for some days afterwards, I think. Why must we stop there?"
"We will need provisions," Gandalf replied, as they walked. "The only other option would be to obtain them in Rohan, but Lord Elrond wants us to keep the Ring-bearer away from the World of Men at all costs. Atop that, it was Elrond's idea that we take the Redhorn Pass rather than the Gap of Rohan, which is my suggestion. Do you prefer the former?"
Eragon thought about it, trying to paint a mental picture of how the land looked. It was easy enough, given his prior knowledge. "I think he had a point, Gandalf. The road south will take us over a month to walk and none of us know what has happened to Saruman, so what if he is lurking in wait, ready to pounce? Caradhras seems to be the safer option."
"Caradhras is not a safe option in any sense, laddie," Gimli said, having overheard them. "The mountain is rumoured to hate Elves and Dwarves alike, so who knows how it will react to you of all people?"
"The mountain hates Elves and Dwarves," Eragon repeated, frowning at him. "I admit that I've seen some bizarre things in my time, master Dwarf, including forests that seem to be alive, but at least they have the touch of plant life to call upon. What could the mountain possibly have?"
"I have never seen it," Gimli shrugged. "But peaks of that height will be capped with snow and winds will always be a problem."
"I think we should take a vote on this," Eragon said.
"Very well," Gandalf said. "Stop and take some rest."
The two of them did so and the others, who were further behind and not privy to the conversation, ran up to see what was happening. Gandalf explained their situation as Eragon thought about the Fellowship's departure from Rivendell.
It had been only a few days prior, at dawn. The company had stocked up on provisions and departed the settlement just as the sun took flight. The Elves had gathered to bid them farewell and Elrond himself had spoken words in their favour, wishing them luck. From there, they had formed into a loose column with Gandalf and Frodo at the front, only the Hobbit soon dipped into the middle so that he might spend more time with his kin. Since then, Eragon had taken up the position beside Gandalf, whilst the others took turns in alternating positions. This wasn't so much for strategy as it was for the sake of getting to know one another and deepen their bonds. Eragon joined them, of course, but Saphira was more standoffish, as one might expect.
It was small-talk for the most part, but one thing of significance had happened, albeit before the group left on their journey. It could even change fate.
It had been late at night, just before they were due to leave. Eragon was taking a last chance to explore the beauty of Rivendell, wondering if he would ever return, when he happened upon Aragorn gazing upon the shards of a splendid sword, one he knew to be called 'Narsil'. It was then that he had made the decision to speak to Aragorn about his birthright, in the hopes of helping him to overcome his doubts. Eragon couldn't pretend that he had the life experience of the ranger, but he had risen up to meet his own destiny and that itself was valuable experience to draw upon.
They had spoken in low voices, with Aragorn hesitantly admitting that he feared the power of what wielding the sword would entail, given the recklessness of his fore-bearer. Eragon had told him bluntly that Isildur was weak, but Aragorn was not. The ranger had looked at him then.
"How can you say that for sure?" he asked, not unkindly. "Isildur's blood flows in my veins. It is the blood of failure."
"Blood does not matter," Eragon argued. "The actions of one's ancestors and the consequences of those actions do not determine one's lot in life, my lord. It's true that what Isildur did has played a role in shaping who you are today, but his choices cannot guide yours. You are merely allowing yourself to be the victim of what he did. Decide what path to walk by yourself and hang Isildur's deeds in the past, where they belong. This is the here and now."
Eragon was worried that he had sounded preachy, but he also got the impression that a harsh truth was what Aragorn needed to hear, so he charged on.
"You're eighty seven years old, Aragorn. Why would you get to that age and still allow the poor decisions of a man from three thousand years ago to give you fear? Don't be afraid of your heritage. Embrace it."
"I don't know if I am worthy in my own right," Aragorn admitted. "What Isildur did may not matter, but how can I weigh myself against the kings of old when I do not believe that I am fitted to the role? How do I overcome such doubts? Can you answer those questions for me, Eragon?"
Eragon knew that the ranger wasn't expecting an answer, for he showed surprise when the Rider nodded tightly and gave him one.
"I am only eighteen years old, my friend. Yes, truly. Saphira is two. When she was born I was a peasant boy working on my uncle's farm. I could escape into my imagination from time to time by hunting in the woods near my home and conjuring up spectacular – and fantastical – thoughts of my mother and father, who, as I said, I did not know at the time. One day I found a mysterious blue stone while hunting and brought it home, thinking to sell it for meat that would help us to survive the winter. Instead, it hatched and I became a Dragon Rider, the greatest source of my imagination and of our folklore. Since then, in little over two years, I have risen up and defeated the tyrant responsible for destroying the Dragon Riders, taken on the mantle of Grandmaster of the new Order, and then lost that title by being dispersed through time into Arda in the space of a single heartbeat. I don't even understand it, yet I must accept it. Where is the justice in that?
"The answer is that there is none. We cannot search for justice in the many arduous tasks that life will guide us towards. We can only take control of our destiny by deciding whether to meet or avoid those challenges. I faced my fears and took control of my destiny just as I took command of the Varden, the group responsible for fighting against the Broddring Empire," Eragon said. Aragorn was silent as he listened. "Saphira and I freed Alagaësia from the grip of destruction and would have begun to reshape the country into something beautiful, but we were never given that chance. We were brought here just as the king died and told that we would have to do the same again. Does that mean that it was all for naught, those years of warfare, death and sorrow? Of course not. We accomplished our ultimate goal and then had to leave the rebuilding of the land to other, brighter minds. Isildur defeated Sauron for a time, but now the greater task is left to you, and if Saphira and I are capable of assuming command of such a group of people - and more importantly, of ourselves - then so too are you, for you are wiser, stronger and more intelligent than I by far.
"It's time to bring your line back from the cusp of darkness, Aragorn. Take up that sword and prove your worth not to your fore-bearers, but to yourself and to those you love. You have what it takes. The Man who does not fear the Nine will not be stopped by the shackles of the past. Cast them off."
Eragon left the room, still wondering if he had said too much. He noticed Arwen slip in after he left and suspected that she would encourage the ranger with gentler words if he still needed encouragement after his own words.
Eragon didn't know who had played the bigger role in getting through to the man, but one or both of them were successful, for Aragorn walked at the rear of the Fellowship with the sword, reforged by the Elves that same night, strapped across his back. 'Andúril', he had named it, and it was hard and sharp, strong and fierce now that it had been remade and passed to the one man who was capable of wielding it. Eragon had nodded on seeing it for the first time and Aragorn had returned the gesture, neither of them noticing that Gandalf smiled beneath his beard on seeing the display and Boromir looked astounded.
Perhaps the third path was open to the Fellowship after all; perhaps they would travel to Gondor and unite the Men therein against the darkness. Whatever happened, Aragorn had decided to rise to the call of destiny and now he stood tall and proud.
And as one, the Free Peoples breathed a sigh of relief.
"I find myself agreeing with Eragon and Gimli," Aragorn said.
The Fellowship sat around a fire that Sam had made and was using to cook lunch. They had crossed over hills and crags in the past day, ensuring that were plenty of rocks to use as seats. Eragon felt his mouth water as Sam turned the bacon and sausages, knowing just how good the Hobbit was at cooking. It was why the Fellowship had given him the role unanimously, in truth.
While Sam cooked, Merry and Pippin munched on some bread. They had been good for causing laughter and knowing that they were doing their best to help had assuaged Eragon's doubts in having the three of them come along, although he still had some doubts. Gimli was smoking a pipe and Legolas was keeping watch, the only one of the eleven still on their feet. Boromir watched with fascination as Saphira tore into the hunk of deer flesh that she had brought back to camp that morning.
"It is true that the Gap of Rohan leaves us vulnerable to the plotting of Saruman, but I had hoped to catch him unawares," Gandalf said. "The traitor is indisposed at the moment, courtesy of Eragon and Saphira. He will likely be preoccupied enough to keep his forces close to his chest while he attempts to rebuild the tower."
"That cannot be a risk worth taking," Eragon said after drinking some water. He accepted a plate from Sam with gratitude. The food was delicious, as he knew it would be. "Even a single slip-up will see us canter off the edge of a cliff."
"That is an apt choice of words," Boromir said, turning to face him. "The Redhorn Pass is treacherous at the best of times and deadly at the worst. I would not throw a dice and attempt to roll a hard six where pertain our odds of success."
"This whole endeavour is a gamble," Eragon argued. "The best thing we can do is choose the path which minimises our risk of detection. And do not ask Saphira and I to act as a diversion," he said firmly, before anybody could offer up the suggestion. "We will do so only when there is no alternative, for I have no desire to stick our necks out where doing so is unwarranted."
"None of us would ask such a thing of you," Gandalf remarked quietly. "Saruman will be on the lookout for Saphira after what happened. He will have a plan to ensure that you do not escape a second time. Sending you to divert attention so that we might slip through is worse than a reckless gamble; it is to send you both to your deaths."
Eragon was grateful for that. He would be willing to act as a distraction in the event that the Fellowship had need of such a thing, but for now he would remain close and protect them all to the best of his abilities. That line of thought led to him realising something.
"Snow will not be a problem if we traverse Caradhras; Saphira and I are both capable of keeping the eleven of us warm," he said, and Saphira growled her assent while tearing into her meal. The Hobbits and Legolas looked pained by her savagery when she snapped the buck's spine in one go, but she paid them no heed. Gimli was pleased, although that could have simply been on count of the Elf's discomfort. Eragon forced himself not to laugh; he had grown to love Saphira's antics much as he loved the rest of her.
"There is another option," Gimli nodded after a moment. "Why should we rely on sorcery for warmth when we can be warm with food and ale in our bellies? Yes, indeed, my cousin Balin would give us a warm welcome if we chose to pass through the mines of Moria."
Gandalf's eyes widened, but Eragon was the only one who noticed. "No, Gimli, I will not take that path unless there is no other choice."
Eragon shut his eyes and searched, a sensation that was becoming quite prevalent in his life. It was as if he scanned a library of books when he did this, with the distinction that he knew exactly which tome held the knowledge that he was looking for. In this instance, he found what Tenga had given him on Caradhras and Moria, and little of it gave him warmth or comfort as things stood, despite Gimli's confidence in the latter.
"Moria was besieged by Orcs," he frowned. "Azog the Defiler slew Thrór in a great battle at its gates, did he not? How can Moria be safe if it was captured?"
"Balin brought a great army of Dwarves with him to recapture the city in the year twenty-nine eighty-nine," Gimli said, sounding cheerful. "This was shortly after he reached the Lonely Mountain with his company and Frodo's uncle, Bilbo. Balin's army killed thousands of the foul creatures and retook Khazad-dûm for our kin! Many proud Dwarves live there now! Great miners and artisans alike! Have you come across anything of that sort in your travels, Master Eragon?"
Eragon couldn't help but smile at the Dwarf's enthusiasm, although the gesture was tight as Gimli's words did not wholly reassure him. "It so happens that I have, but I would dearly love to see how the Dwarves of hither compare to yon. Why was Moria not our first choice of destination?" he asked Gandalf over Gimil's shoulder.
Gandalf looked troubled. "I admit that we are lacking intelligence in Moria's case. Moreover, I have a feeling of worry in my heart. I fear that the city is home to great evil."
"Nonsense!" Gimli exclaimed, pointing a rasher of bacon at the old wizard. "The only evil in Moria is the Dwarf who has an empty stomach and an empty tankard! It is safer than the cursed mountain and the road south!"
"I must protest this decision," Legolas said, turning to face the company. His brow was creased with worry. "We should not walk into the dark with the weapon of the Dark Lord. Evil is known to thrive in such places, whether the Dwarves have retaken the city or no. It is best to stay above ground."
"Spoken like a true Elf," Gimli muttered, although he knew full well that Legolas would hear him.
The Elf did not respond to the comment. "My vote is cast in favour of either of the other paths," he said, before returning to his task of lookout.
Gimli mumbled a few words in Khuzdul but otherwise did not acknowledge the Elf's reticence. Eragon thought about their choices, knowing full well that the others were imitating him in doing so, except for one, who seemed unconcerned.
"What do you think?"
"I think that the decision should be obvious," she said. "If the Fellowship passes through Moria, you will be without my aid for however long it takes to come out the other side. Unlike Tronjheim, it is not big enough to cater to the needs of a dragon."
Eragon swallowed and relayed her words, causing the others to start in realisation. But Gimli was insistent.
"The journey over the mountain is a quick one on dragon wings, I imagine. And we will be in no danger within."
"You cannot know that," Saphira replied, telling Eragon to relay her words. "You are hoping, but a hope is all you have."
"We also only hope that the Redhorn Pass is just that: passable," Boromir argued. "But we know that the Gap of Rohan is not as heavily defended as it might otherwise have been. If we pass through it, we can take the West Road to my city and then regroup within touching distance of Mordor!"
"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard, regardless of what Eragon has done to the tower," Aragorn stated. "Saruman is alive and cunning, and he will be watching. We cannot go there without risk of detection."
"Every path has risk!" Boromir said. "At least we will be on level footing and above ground!"
"Then let us choose the path that carries the least risk!" That was Gimli.
"We will have Saphira to help us scout for the enemy if we make for my city!"
"Even Saphira is not perfect," Eragon said, and the dragon growled as he did so. Eragon ignored her faux-indignation. "It is entirely possible that we will miss a patrol out of bad luck or bad weather."
"Both of which will kill us on top of Caradhras!"
"Be silent!" Gandalf ordered, and they shut up as one. The wizard scoffed and extinguished his pipe. "It is clear to me that we are not going to come to a unanimous verdict on this matter tonight, so let us sleep and try again on the morrow, when we have all taken some rest. Fatigue does not sit well with decision-making and nor does it help with tempers, clearly."
"I have a different proposition," Aragorn said. "We have with us an abundance of leaders and while that is no bad thing, it can cause the trifling of opinions to occur. Rather than attempt to argue this resolution into the earth, we should let our most important member make the decision that he feels will keep him most comfortable on our quest. Frodo?" he asked, turning to face the Hobbit.
The Hobbits as a group had been silent to that point, understanding that the others were a collection of travellers with vastly more experience and know-how of the land than they were. They trusted in the choices of Gandalf, Aragorn and Eragon in particular and expected one or more of them to lead the others to Mordor overtime. They had not thought to be deciding on the course of action, so to have that responsibility thrust on them was a surprise. Frodo did not allow his composure to break, but he looked uncertain.
"I don't want to make a decision that will cause unrest in the Fellowship," he said at last. "And I can speak for my own comfort, but not for the safety of all."
"If we agree to accept your decision before you make it, will you feel confident in making it then?" Aragorn asked.
Frodo nodded slowly. "I think so."
"Then let us choose," Aragorn said, and turned to look at them. "Gentlemen? My lady?"
That one was for Saphira, who was flattered to be called such. "I will accept Frodo's choice. You should do the same, Eragon; we both know that his strength of will is what matters most on this mission. It is why we agreed to have the other Hobbits come along and why we agreed to keep four eyes on Frodo while he bears the Ring."
"Yes, and if he chooses Moria it deprives us of two of those eyes," Eragon responded. "More importantly, I... I don't want to be without you, Saphira. We agreed to stay together, remember?"
Saphira was moved by his words, but did not sway. "Frodo's wellbeing is more important than our comfort, little one."
"He may disagree with that assertion, if I tell him."
"Of course he will," she chided. "Frodo is remarkably selfless. Do not put him in a position where he puts our happiness ahead of the fate of the world."
"Didn't you say that avoiding Moria was an obvious choice?"
"I wasn't thinking of Frodo then. It was a mistake; his life is more valuable than either of ours."
Those words caused Eragon to sigh. He knew what the stakes were and there would be no hiding from that fact. Finally, he nodded, noting that the rest of the Fellowship had already done so. "We consent. And I ask you to not worry about Saphira."
"I shan't," Frodo promised. "I do not want to be without her protection either, but I have faith in your magic and in Gandalf's, to say nothing of the strength of arms and leadership that all of the Fellowship has. I believe we are well-protected, although I understand that arrogance is a short throw from a feeling of safety. As it stands, I wish to ensure we remain as safe as possible. If it is true that the Dwarves have retaken Moria, we shall go through the mines. It does us no harm to check, at the least."
He nodded at the last and looked at Gandalf, who appeared grave, yet accepting.
"So be it."
The company did not travel again that night, for their bones were weary from the journey thus far. Instead, they took rest and food the next day before setting off in the directions of the western gate of Moria. Gandalf knew the way, for he had been there before, but the journey took them just over a week to make. In that time, Eragon came to know more about the Fellowship and their hopes and dreams.
Legolas was born into the glory of the Elves and found his love in wooded areas, much as the Elves of Du Weldenvarden had done. He was the son of Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm, and had once met Bilbo when the Hobbit journeyed through Mirkwood with his company of Dwarves. That company had also held Gloin and Balin, which Eragon thought to be amusing by way of coincidence; that there were connections between members of the Fellowship despite most of them never having met before was an interesting conversation piece. Legolas regaled Frodo with the tale of how his father had imprisoned Bilbo and the Dwarves, although Gimli did not find it to be entirely funny.
"I am afraid that I did not participate in the Battle of Five Armies," Legolas said, as they walked. "My father took some two thousand Elven warriors to war that day, but I was bid remain behind, in case he might fall, for then our people would have been without a king. Had we both fallen, it could have spelled disaster for the Elves of Eryn Galen."
Gimli spoke of his father and how he had helped retake the Lonely Mountain from Smaug, much to Saphira's consternation. The Dwarf was one hundred and thirty nine, placing him in the middle of the average Dwarven lifespan. He admitted that Mordor had sent an emissary to Erebor with promises of friendship, leading to Dáin II, the King under the Mountain, sending Gimli and Glóin to Rivendell with the tidings and a plea for help. Glóin would return to Erebor, he told them, whilst Gimli joined the Fellowship.
"Do you hate the dragons?" Eragon asked cautiously.
"I do not," Gimli said, shaking his head and mighty beard together. "My folk have had much evil done to them by the great beasts, but I have never seen one before myself... until now. And this dragon is on our side, you tell me. That my father, Gandalf and the others trust her is good enough for me. She is unique."
Saphira allowed him to praise her and Eragon felt relieved. Glóin, who had faced Smaug, trusted Elrond and Gandalf's judgement where Saphira was concerned, which in turn gave his son contentment. Eragon felt that he owed the old Dwarf a favour.
Boromir had come to Rivendell in the hopes of discovering whether his dream had been prophetic or not. Eragon wondered if that meant the man was capable of using magic, but upon examination, he found that to not be the case. Nobody he had come across seemed to be capable of using the Ancient Language, which was something of a concern.
"Is magic dead, or has it not yet been born?"
Saphira had no answer for him.
Boromir was happy to join the Fellowship if it meant bringing the Dark Lord to heel. He was utterly devoted to the glory of Men, but was not cold towards the allied races, instead determining to free the lot of them from Sauron's clutches. He was a brave and noble warrior. If his only vice was that he had a weakness to the Ring, Eragon thought it an unfair reflection of his temperament and again thanked the stars that he had Saphira to protect him from the evil binding's grasp.
Aragorn was more of an enigma. He had been wandering the wilds of Middle-Earth for many years, blessed with long life and trained in combat and other skills by the Elves of Rivendell. Eragon knew that he had run from his lineage, but now that he accepted it that part of his life seemed to be over. When Eragon noticed that he wore a beautiful silver necklace that had not been there before, Aragorn admitted to him that it had been a gift from Arwen, but spoke no more of the matter. Eragon, to his credit, did not press the man for details, nor did the others.
The Hobbits were boisterous, yet it was expected their joy would dwindle with each step they took on the road to Mordor. Merry and Pippin were somewhat aloof, but perhaps that was in itself a blessing. Sam was stoic and wildly protective of his master, although Frodo seemed to be embarrassed by the gardener's over-exuberance in keeping him safe.
"It was the promise that I made, Mister Frodo," said Sam, reminding Eragon of what he had told Gandalf. "It doesn't do one any good to go and break a promise now, does it?"
Eragon was touched by Sam's honour, but rolled over and fell asleep instead of dropping any eaves, as Sam had himself remarked to Gandalf that night in The Shire. Eragon knew that the Hobbit was in love with another, known as Rosie, so for him to leave her behind in lieu of coming on this quest was a true sign of his character. He could have gone back to The Shire after Rivendell, but hadn't given so much as a thought to that course of action after Frodo elected to carry the Ring. And then Merry and Pippin... oh, the four's bond of friendship was truly remarkable!
As the Fellowship pressed on, traversing field and rock, the sound of their chattering was more heartening than the music of Rivendell. The ten on foot spoke the world away, whether they talked and walked or huddled around the fire at night. They kept one another's spirits up and began to add trust to the oaths that they had already taken, despite what Elrond had said about none of those binding them to go further than they wished. As it were, Eragon could tell that none of these people would ever give in to fear. They would go the full length and breadth of Middle-Earth if need be, face the Dark Lord and his servants and die in the attempt, if that was what it took to save the world.
Eragon resolved to speak with Gandalf about his apparent worry, but the wizard told him that it was no concern, merely one born from their lack of intelligence on Moria itself. Eragon understood that and accepted the answer, not knowing then the consequences the decision would bring.
The air was cool as they walked along the edge of the Misty Mountains. There were no towns or villages to speak of, so Aragorn and Eragon took to hunting for the Fellowship. The ranger was impressed with Eragon's prowess, given his age, but Eragon was astonished by how quiet Aragorn was. The man was like a ghost, prowling around in the darkness with his bow and arrows; the deer and rabbits that they caught never saw him coming.
The closer they got to Moria, the colder the air became. This was courtesy of the shadows cast along the earth by the imposing bulk of the mountains, which Eragon found to be rather disconcerting. They were not as tall as the Beors had been, but stood ominous and dark, peaks of gloom amidst the heart of Middle-Earth. He knew that they stretched for leagues and leagues from top to bottom, the thought causing him to remark at the range's similarity to the Spine.
"Where's the Spine?" Pippin asked, when he made the comment.
Eragon was startled, not realising that he had spoken aloud. "Oh! The Spine is a mountain range from my homeland. In fact, it was home for a long time; my village lay on the edge of the woods that collared the mountains themselves. Seeing the Misty Mountains and then thinking of their shape on a map just causes me to wonder at how similar the two lands truly are."
"Except that these are larger than the Spine by some margin," Saphira added. "I know what you are doing, little one, and I can only recommend that you stop. Trying to draw comparisons that are not really there will drive you mad."
"I suppose you're right," he admitted unhappily. "But then I also wonder at the name 'Eregion' in comparison to mine and compare 'Isengard' with 'Isenstar'. 'Near Harad' also reminds me of the Hadarac desert, and there are so many more similarities too... I fear that I am already going mad."
"I would stop you if you were," she declared, causing him to smile in gratitude.
"Gandalf is wary of this place," Eragon said to Aragorn in a low voice, once he found a moment. He cast a glance at the wizard, who was searching for a hidden door that the Dwarves had carved into the mountainside. "We should be extra careful."
"Nothing should be considered safe from the time we left Rivendell," Aragorn remarked. "We have you to thank for diverting Saruman's attention, but there are other unfriendly eyes that we must be cautious of too."
"Even the exterior chills me to the bone," Eragon whispered, as he stared at the dark, foreboding rock. The hairs on his body were all on-edge, and his scalp was tingling. Every cell in his body screamed danger. "Perhaps I should say something. Another route might be best."
"I concur," Legolas said, from nearby. "My thoughts of this mountain have grown evermore dim since we came in sight of it. I feel a dark presence in my mind."
Suddenly, Aragorn leapt upwards and grabbed Pippin's arm, just as he tried to skim a second rock along the surface of the lake nearby. Eragon mirrored him, hand twitching towards his sword, but he relaxed when Aragorn and Legolas did not draw. His heart was pounding. Had he left it too late to speak out?
"This place is evil," he said to Saphira, who twitched and snapped her gaze to the water. "Saphira?"
Saphira hissed, drawing the Fellowship's attention. "Something moves beneath the water."
Eragon translated, just as Frodo and Gandalf forced the doors open by speaking the password. He drew his sword and kept his eyes transfixed on the lake, searching for a ripple.
"Quickly! Inside," Gandalf ordered, ushering for them to follow him.
Eragon was reluctant to leave Saphira alone with whatever she had seen, but she gave him a mental nod and took off, flying out of harm's way.
"Go," Eragon said to the others, intending to follow last.
The Hobbits entered behind Gandalf, and then Boromir and Gimli followed, weapons drawn and walking backwards. They were quickly joined by Legolas and Aragorn, and then Eragon hurried to join them.
He had only made it a paltry few steps before something shot from beneath the surface of the water and snaked around his leg, before snapping itself stiff and yanking him off his feet. Eragon had not been expecting this, but he did suspect that whatever Saphira had seen would act when it believed the Fellowship to be entirely off-guard. Thus, he was prepared to defend himself and lashed his sword around on instinct, severing what he saw to be a gigantic tentacle. He jumped back upright.
With a roar, the creature burst forward and splayed dozens of tentacles at him. He reacted by casting spells to defend himself, and then Saphira was there, blowing a plume of flame at the squid-like Watcher. The fire did little and what little it did was hampered when the creature dived beneath the water again. It was aquatic and thus, even dragonfire would be of no use. He knew now what had been giving him a chill.
"Eragon, go!" Saphira told him. "I can't help you with this creature, and I won't have you putting yourself at risk without me!"
He ducked under another whip-like tentacle and slashed it apart with Brisingr.
"I can do this!" he said.
"You'll put the others at risk!"
Eragon looked and saw that they were running to help him, and knew that she was right. He swore and began to run for the entrance. Maybe he could kill the creature, but it was too much of a risk without Saphira being able to help. If it dragged her beneath the water, she would be in serious danger. He also found it impossible to touch the creature's mind and kill it with a word of death, for whatever reason. It worried him greatly. Moreover, it was fast enough to catch him off-guard and that made it more than capable of snatching one of the others and breaking necks before he could react. He would not take the chance. He motioned to the others as he broke into a sprint.
"Go! Into the mine!"
Legolas fired three arrows in the time it took him to reach the entrance, and Aragorn two. They only served to enrage the Watcher, and it roared again as it threw itself out of the water and towards the mine. Eragon dove the last few feet and tackled the Elf out of the way of the roof as it collapsed, while Aragorn jumped to safety.
The group managed to avoid the following cave-in, but all of them were covered in dirt and bore a few scratches for their efforts. Eragon's temple was throbbing from where he hit the ground, and he winced as he offered Legolas a hand up.
"Forgive me," Eragon muttered.
"Hannon le," Legolas replied, nodding. "There is nothing to forgive."
"Saphira, are you safe?"
"I am," she replied. "But I am afraid the rest of you may soon be in more danger, little one. The tentacle monster is trying to find an opening in the ruins. It is huge, bigger even than I. What shall I do?"
"Leave," he said immediately. "You can't fight it if you can't burn it. I'll try to blast my way out. Maybe I can kill it in the act."
"Or maybe you could bring the entire mountain down on the others and on yourself," she chided. "And if you fail to kill it, you will be drained of strength and still put the others at risk. If they manage to avoid the rockfalls."
Eragon told the others of the predicament.
"We cannot tarry here to dig ourselves out," Gandalf said. "We must press onwards, before something comes to investigate."
"Isn't that what we want?" Eragon asked, thinking of the Dwarves.
"I fear not," Gandalf said, directing the light on his staff towards the ground.
Eragon sucked in his breath and swore beneath it as Gimli began to splutter in shock. There were bodies on the floor, strewn and piled together in all directions. They were both Dwarven and Orcish. Gimli began to wail. Eragon cursed repeatedly in his mind, knowing now that the chill had not been caused by the Watcher alone.
"A mine? This is a tomb!" Boromir growled. "We should have taken the road to my city when I bade you all! Now we are trapped!"
"Be silent!" Gandalf snarled. "If there are Orcs around, you would bring them down upon us. Our choice now is a solitary one: we must face the long dark of Moria and hope that nothing comes upon us. If the Dwarves were still in control of the city, they would have cleared away their dead. Moria has fallen."
"Perhaps they have barricaded themselves elsewhere," Gimli said, sniffling.
Eragon felt his heart go out to the Dwarf, but he had no time to offer sympathies. He was communicating frantically with Saphira.
"This is a disaster! We should have listened to Boromir! Now we might have to fight and you won't be there to help us!" he exclaimed.
"You are more than capable," she pointed out, but he could tell that she was uneasy too. She felt ashamed of voting for this course of action, although neither of them blamed Frodo, and he could not console her because his concern was too great.
"Saphira, I have to try and blast my way out. There's no other choice!"
"Don't even think of it!" Gandalf scolded, and Eragon realised that he had spoken aloud once more. He had been too preoccupied to notice. "If you don't succeed in killing us all, you still leave us open to danger!" Clearly, he agreed with Saphira.
"This path is dangerous too!" Eragon said.
"We may yet go unnoticed," Gandalf told him firmly. "If you destroy half of the mountainside and we survive, the sound will summon every Orc within half a league! I am already anxious that a patrol may come to investigate, so let us leave with haste."
Eragon relented. "Damn it. You leave me with no choice. Lead the way. Saphira... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for us to part like this."
"Nor did I, little one," she said. "Now go. I will be safe. And I will stay in the area, high above the ground, so we won't be completely without one another. I would tell you not to take risks, but I fear that I have bonded myself to the most reckless Rider in the history of the world."
"Our world or this one?" he said, managing a small smile.
"They are one and the same now, my heart," she reminded him.
"By your leave," Gandalf had meanwhile snarked. "Now be quiet, all of you," he said again. "If we can be as silent as a mouse for the four days that it takes us to reach the exit, we may yet make it there alive and well. Keep your eyes peeled. We are now in enemy territory."
Eragon fell into the formation. Ahead of him, Aragorn. Gimli. Boromir. Sam. Frodo. Pippin. Merry. Legolas. Gandalf. All of them alert and frightened.
Yet most of all, strong from their bond of fellowship.
:Author's Notes:
Some news for me, friends. I'm moving to China to teach English to children. Needless to say, it's an exciting change in my life! My first full-time job after graduating, a chance to experience a whole other country and a great opportunity to move forward in life! I worked in China for a couple of months in 2016, actually, but that was a temporary internship, so this is a different prospect entirely. At the minute I'm working on acquiring my visa and then I'll have to stock up on essentials, book flight tickets and do other things to prepare for departure. All being well, I'll leave in November. The contract will last for a year from then on, with a chance to renew at the end of that period if I so choose.
Why am I telling you all of this? Well, the disruption has (understandably, I hope) eaten into my writing time and will do so for another few months. Ideally, I'd like to wait until I settle into my new city (boy, that feels strange to say!) and new job before I get back to penning chapters, but as always, I'll do my best to move as fast as possible while maintaining the quality of the story. I'll quite literally be taking this story across the world with me and that prospect just excites me. Just like Bilbo himself, I love travelling and feel quite ready for another adventure.
And this adventure will continue. Have no fear on that count.
I'd just like to say a few things about the chapter. I hope none of you are disappointed with my decision to progress into Moria instead of going a different route. I don't want Eragon to become a tyrant because of his power and status as protagonist, so he had one vote and deferred to the Ring-bearer's choice just as the rest of the Fellowship did. The Watcher itself is a mysterious and terrifying creature, so I wanted to do it justice. Even Gandalf doesn't stand and fight it in canon, so it is a truly powerful foe. Saphira herself is nowhere near big enough to fit through the doors and rooms and hallways inside the mountain, so she gets to stay out of the action this time. Inside, we all know what to expect, but I plan to do things a bit differently to hold your interest. After that and after Lothlórien, you'll see another major shake-up that will finally, completely and utterly remove the element of canon progression that has accompanied the plot thus far. Eragon's talk with Aragorn will have major consequences, but what I have planned after this will be the avalanche that follows that proverbial snowball.
On a funny note, the opening line is my attempt to replicate Howard Shore's "The Ring Goes South" in written form. At least, that's what I listened to when writing those first few paragraphs. As a wise man once said: "Only Howard Shore and Peter Jackson can make 9 people walking past a rock feel epic."
Unless I find some free time in October, I'll see you all in a few months!