Chapter Eleven: Company Comes a Callin'
The Fellowship made it down the mountain from whence they came without difficulty thanks to whatever god had been watching. And to be even more gracious for, with every step of the descent they made the snow fell lighter and the air got less bitter, though it never fully lost its winter's chill.
Dawn had broken the night sky with her pink and orange streaks as they had reached the base of the mountain. Everyone had been sagging with exhaustion, windburnt, and stiff, so they made camp and rested well into the evening. Nieriel had been completely drained, her reserves of strength and perseverance spent, and had slept longer than usual, only waking when the hobbits began to clamor about as they started supper.
Elladan and Elrohir, as well as Aragorn and Legolas, had taken to the countryside late in the day to scout; they had returned during supper to deem their campsite safe for the time being. They decided to spend the night alongside the mountain, knowing it would do them no good to traverse untrodden lands in the dark as they still recovered from the day before. And so, bundled against the cold and thankfully out of the reach of the snow, they slept some more.
The morning to follow was overcast and blustery, and as they packed up the camp it was in silence. The hobbits were mourning the loss of their pony Bill, who they had to turn away in favor of the Mines, while Nieriel remained apprehensive on the situation that awaited them. Even though Gimli thought his cousin and kin were alive and well in the Mines, Nieriel had another feeling, a weary inkling. There were rumors…
Durin's Bane… A stealth of a tremor slithered up her spine as she removed her satchels from Stormwind's chassis. Perhaps what they say is not true; perhaps Balin lives, and the dwarves are thriving in their ancient mountain home. Perhaps the orcs had not overrun it so long ago, and that was merely a fable to keep enemies away. The weary inkling festered; the more she thought about it, the more the shadows along the mountain grew as the sun rose high, the more suffocating her dread became.
I have never been there, Strider has never been there, and neither Elladan nor Elrohir. It could take us days, weeks to cross through the Mines, and then what if we get lost? We only have so much food and water… Surely Gandalf knows the way? He would not lead us astray.
Her eyes flickered to her companions briefly; Strider talking with Legolas, the twins finishing up their breakfast, Boromir and Gimli sharing a pipe, Gandalf patting Bill on the muzzle affectionately.
I suppose if I have to trudge the depths of that dark place, the company is not so shabby. Her hard eyes fell on the hobbits then as Merry and Pippin began to grapple over an apple.
Her lips thinned. I may rethink that shortly.
She sighed heavily, looping the straps of her satchels over each shoulder. Shaking her head, she moved toward Stormwind's front, running a hand along his flank as she went. She had to turn him loose, for they could bring no beasts within the Mines, and she would miss her companion deeply. She did not worry for him; he knew the way home well and was smart enough to make it, was fast enough to outrun any enemy. She did not relish the fact of him out there alone, and smiled sadly as she fisted the last of her sugar out of her sporran.
"You will give Arwen my regards, will you not?" she asked softly as Stormwind greedily lipped up the sugar. "Do not get into trouble, beast. I will miss you."
Stormwind tossed his head then, his ears swiveling forward as he whickered and stomped a hoof. He looked at her with bright blue eyes as Nieriel looped his reins around the saddlehorn tightly so they would not get caught in any brush.
"Travel swiftly, my friend. Do not tarry; I would like to see you when I get home." She patted him on the shoulder and he whickered again, his white mane shining in the low glimmering light of the sun. Nieriel smiled and then smacked him on the rump, sending the horse off north, and it was not long before he quickly disappeared into the mist. The other horses, having been prepared to depart as well, took off after him, as Bill the Pony trotted to keep up with their long-legged gait.
Nieriel watched Bill until she could no longer see the swishing of his tail, before resituating her cumbersome packs against her sides. With her knives upon her back, her cloak on her shoulders, and now two satchels to carry, she was suddenly filled with frustrating regret. I should have only packed one; now I will have to trudge all through Moria toting books and—
"If you would be so kind."
Nieriel looked at the extended hand before her, before following the limb to the chassis it belonged to, and then connecting that chassis to a face. She scowled up at Legolas, lost on his meaning.
"Your bags." Legolas said, waving his hand at which she carried.
"What about them?"
"I will take them now."
Nieriel's scowl deepened. "I carry my own bags."
"They look quite heavy. What do you have in there, books?" His eyes twinkled.
Nieriel flushed. "I have been carrying my own weight for years. I am fine." She tried to brush past him, and rightly so the leather ties of one of her bags snagged on a nearby bush. She fumbled, getting yanked back by the bramble, and lost her bag to the ground. Mortified, she stooped to collect it and untangle her belongings, cursing whatever god of mischief thought tormenting her was uproariously funny.
She was about to stand out of her crouch, her bag looped back over her shoulder, when Legolas brushed past her, knocking the bag back to the dirt. She glared hotly at his back as he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Do not dawdle, Nieriel. We have to be on our way."
It took the better part of the day, but around mid-afternoon the Fellowship and its companions arrived at the West-door of Moria. The sun had come out from behind her clouds, but under the shadow of the mountains and the skeleton trees that made up the uneven, rock-filled path to the door, the allegiance was left in shadow. Nieriel brought up the rear of the group as they passed a wide lake which rested before the doors, her eyes raking the shadows, scouring the dismally grey cliffs of the Silvertine to her left. The further they had walked, the sicker to stomach she had gotten, and as then end of their path opened up ahead, the sickness turned to black dread.
The hobbits began to whisper excitedly between themselves and she heard Sam say, "Wait 'til I tell my old gaffer about this!"
There is nothing to tell, she thought darkly, her eyes darting keenly over the still waters to her right. A chill breeze rippled the branches of the trees, causing them to cackle in the brittle air, and her eyes brought her up to the crows that rested on the limbs, their beady eyes watchful. Waiting. She narrowed her own; they were not a good omen. We may not make it out of here alive.
Gandalf was the first to approach the door, which did not look like a door at all. Set in the face of the mountain, the only way it was discernable under the vines and weeds and the barren oak that loomed over it were the Elvish words etched high above, which Gandalf now uncovered with the help of his staff. Nieriel could faintly make out the outline of a great arch, swinging high above Gandalf's pointed hat. Upon further reveal, she saw that the arch descended to make a silhouette of a door two full arms' span wide, and was framed by two large columns and decorated with writhing trees and peppered with embellishments and filigree.
"What does it say?" Merry asked in his strange Shire lilt. The hobbits had gaggled closely behind Gandalf to peer up at the inscription as the rest of the company created a semi-circle behind them, in awe of the structure. Nieriel, however, remained wary, looking over her shoulder at the still loch of water once more. I hope beyond hope that the stories I have heard are not true about this lake…
"'Ennyn Durin Aran Moria. Pedo Mellon a Minno. Im Narvi hain echant. Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin.'" Elrohir replied absently with a frown, drawing a drab look from the hobbit.
"If I could read Elvish, I wouldn't have asked."
Elrohir shot him a glare as Legolas replied, "'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.'"
"Well we've spoken!" Pippin intoned cheerily, brushing past Gandalf. "Let's open them!"
Nieriel withered a glare at Pippin as Merry and Frodo sprang forth to help him push against the stone. Sam noticed her look and asked, "What is it?"
"You need a password." she replied, as the hobbits continued to struggle, grunting and groaning with all the subtlety of a pack of cave trolls. "They can be opened from the inside, but not out without one."
"A password? Well that's silly! How is a password to work on a stone door?" Pippin exclaimed with a snort, as if that were the most absurd thing in the world.
"Balin!" Gimli suddenly boomed, startling the hobbits into stillness. He swaggered forward and rapped the butt of his axe on the door, calling, "It's your cousin Gimli! Open the door, let us come in and welcome you!"
"Be silent!" Nieriel hissed, as Gandalf reached out to still Gimli's blade.
"That will not work, Gimli." Gandalf said patiently, and Nieriel rolled her eyes. "She is right; you need a password."
"Well what is it?" Frodo asked, staring up at Gandalf with wide, blue eyes.
The wizard, however, looked sheepish. Nieriel's dread turned to absolute defeat when Gandalf replied, "I do not know it."
Hours passed. The sun dipped beyond the mountain, chilling the air further. The hobbits had eaten a quaint supper of dried pork and (stupidly, in her opinion) the last of their bread while Gandalf stood before the Door of Durin tiring out another feeble attempt to open it. Nieriel was sitting atop a stone, her packs removed, watching the hobbits share a pipe while Strider walked the length of the water, his eyes on the surrounding cliffs. Elladan and Elrohir were sitting near Gandalf, speaking in low tones in Elvish about how to open the door, and Boromir was laid out on a nearby rock, his eyes heavy-lidded. Gimli had plopped next to the door and stared up at it in bafflement, and many a times throughout the evening had mused irritably why Balin had not opened the door, did not know they were there.
Because Balin is no more. Nieriel thought, casting a glance at Legolas as he stood from his own spot. And if I cannot convince Gandalf otherwise, we will not survive this either.
"We risk much by staying here." Legolas said, and Nieriel nodded absently as he crossed his arms over his chest, coming to stand by her. Her eyes wandered toward the movement, to his muscles flexed and his broad chest, but she hastily looked to the loch, straightening to sit tall on her rock and fighting a blush with everything she possessed.
She cleared her throat before she said, "I do not like this. We are in a precarious place, on unknown terrain, with enemies around every corner. I can almost feel as though something is going to go horribly wrong."
Legolas cocked his head to one side, grinning at her. "And here I thought you were fun."
Nieriel shot him a glare. "I do not relish the fact of running from an innumerable amount of orcs in such a confined place, through lands I am unfamiliar with, with the threat of a balrog looming over me, and such heady liabilities at my back."
Legolas chuckled and Nieriel's spine tingled. She told herself it was from the cold, not the deep timbre of his voice. "All the more for the challenge."
"What's this about a challenge?" Gimli interjected, and Nieriel rolled her eyes so hard she almost feared they would get stuck in the back of her head.
She was tired, frustrated, and filthy. She hadn't bathed in a week. She was pretty sure there was orc blood caked under her leathers somewhere where the sun did not shine. She had to set her beloved horse free, she was stuck with a band of insufferable hobbits, their food supply was dwindling, they had been rerouted numerous times, and now to be tormented more by the dwarf?
She was swiftly losing her patience.
"It seems Nieriel is not one for sport." Legolas said, and Nieriel almost told him to go drown in the loch.
"Worried about Moria, are you lass?"
Nieriel gritted her teeth against the slight. "I am not a lass."
"Worry not!" Gimli exclaimed, clamoring to his feet. He thumped his chest like the Neanderthal he was and continued, "My cousin Balin—"
"Will give us a royal welcome. Yes, I know, you have said." Nieriel cut him off.
Gimli gave her a funny look. "You know—"
"I do not want to know."
"—I have never met a woman more cantankerous than you." Gimli continued as if she had not spoken, and Nieriel hissed softly in his direction while Legolas threw back his head and laughed.
"And I have never met a woman who talks so much." Nieriel snapped, and Legolas laughed even harder.
"It is no wonder—"
"Thin ice, dwarf." Nieriel purred, slowly withdrawing one of the blades hidden along her forearm in warning.
"—that you are considered a shrew, have never been married or even courted." Gimli continued without heed.
The knowledge stung, the truth stung, but Nieriel drowned the feeling. Is that true? Am I called a shrew?
"I second that." Legolas said, just to get under her skin. Which it did.
Does he really mean it?
"The smartest thing you have said since I have met you!" Gimil chortled, slapping Legolas on the back. The elf, surprised by the strength, staggered a step, and Nieriel had to choke back her own laugh as he skittered over a tumble of rocks.
Gimli sighed loudly. "And I was on the verge of having high hopes for you, elf."
Legolas righted himself, turned narrow eyes on Gimli. "What do you mean?"
"You have proved slightly formidable thus far, having kept up with a dwarf and what not. But to be felled by a mere slap?" Gimli shook his head dramatically. "Scrawny, frail thing you are."
As Legolas righted his clothes he sneered, "We do not want to know what your mother's first words were when she saw you, dwarf."
Gimli instantly turned the shade of a tomato. "H-how dare you talk about my mother!"
Nieriel was laughing uncontrollably as Gandalf sighed over the booming of Gimli's bellow, plopping down on the rock next to the now-asleep Boromir.
Legolas opened his mouth to respond to Gimli as the dwarf drew up to confront him, but Aragorn cut a hand through the air, "Be quiet. There is evil that lurks here. We do not want to wake it. We have already made enough noise as it is."
"And we have overstayed our welcome." Elladan said to Gandalf, and the weary wizard looked his way. "We have one choice left, Gandalf. We must make for the Gap of Rohan."
Gandalf shook his head, raising from his perch once more. "I know this way. I have come by it before." He lowered his voice and cast his eyes to the ground, as if to hide his guilty countenance. "Though it was from the inside."
"Gandalf, he is right." Aragorn replied. "We risk much by staying here."
"Just give me time." Gandalf looked at Aragorn over his shoulder as he approached the door. He lifted his staff to place the crown against the stone, and began speaking in a language Nieriel did not know.
"We do not have time." Nieriel murmured, sheathing her blade once more.
"I agree with you." Legolas told her, and Nieriel raised a brow in question. He looked affronted as he said, "What? Can I not do so?"
"You have done everything but; forgive me if I question your motives."
"You wound me." Legolas said, a hand on his heart in mock hurt, even though his eyes sparkled. It was a trait that he exuded much, one she denied she enjoyed. "You are such a shrew as they say."
"Do you not think you have irritated her enough?" Elladan asked loudly from his seat on the ground. "You do nothing but demean and provoke her. Leave her be."
"As do you?" Legolas retorted, and Nieriel frowned at the two males, especially when Elladan rose in a quick spurt of hostility. His brother followed suit hurriedly, in an act to quell the storm of anger about to break.
"Do not start this." Nieriel said as she hurried to her feet, her eyes darting for backup. Gimli was watching the exchange with rapt attention, Boromir was seemingly asleep, the hobbits were boisterously laughing amongst themselves, and Aragorn was looking at Nieriel very oddly.
"If I am not mistaken, Nieriel has had no qualms about my pestering in the past." Legolas said with no small amount of smug, and Nieriel slipped swiftly between the two males, giving her back to Elladan while her eyes were hard on Legolas.
"Stop this." She placed a hand on his chest and then immediately regretted it. Before her fingers could curl she removed her hand as if scalded, and turned to glare at Elladan. "You two are acting like petty children, and for no apparent reason."
She turned her eyes to Strider then, for even an inkling of help, but he merely raised a brow at the bizarre behavior. Nieriel stifled an angry growl just as Legolas stepped back, drawing her attention once more with his smirk.
"I will have my kerchief back, then." he told her, holding out a slender hand.
His kerchief…? Nieriel's eyes flared wide, and she was shocked into stillness as his meaning hit her.
I have kept it all this time.
When she did not bend to his wishes as quickly as he would have liked, Legolas waggled his brows at her, wiggling his fingers as his smirk threatened to blossom into a grin.
Huffing, Nieriel ripped open her sporran and handed him the scrap of linen she had meticulously scrubbed clean of her blood. She thrust her hand out to him and, with his eyes flickering to Elladan, Legolas bowed over her hand, his own lingering against her skin. "My thanks, my lady."
Can no one say my name? Nieriel thought irritably, her face flaming. She thought she heard a growl emanate from behind her where Elladan stood, but Gandalf was chanting so loudly that her head was threatening to pound.
She snatched her hand back from Legolas and then moved out from between the males, taking her perch on the rock once more. Gimli was staring at her in dumbfounded awe and as Nieriel glanced up, she found Elrohir pulling Elladan away from Legolas, who stared at the latter with ice in his eyes. Her own orbs wandered to Aragorn to find the ranger watching the exchange blandly, but when he felt Nieriel looking at him he raised a brow to her once more.
Do not even go there, ranger. She glared. Hard.
Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgment of her silent warning and turned away, but not before she caught a smile tilting his lips.
Night had overtaken the sky. The light of the stars gleamed overhead, causing the etchings inscribed on Durin's Door to glimmer in their low light. Gandalf had given up his pursuit an hour ago and now sat staring glumly at the door. The hobbits were resting around a small fire while Gimli sat at the water's edge, sharpening his axe. The rest of the males lounged around in various spots of comfort while Nieriel joined Gandalf on his rock, feeling as miserable as he looked.
"Will you admit now that this was a fool's journey?" Nieriel asked softly, not unkindly. "We should never have come here Gandalf."
The wizard sighed. "I do not know why this has slipped my memory."
"Could it be because you are quite old?" Nieriel jested, nudging him with a smile.
Gandalf chuckled, eyeing Nieriel. "I suppose it could be."
"If we head west we can cross the Swanfleet; you know the area is uninhabited, for not even our enemy would traipse there. We could follow the North-South road and then make for the Angren. That would lead us to the Gap of Rohan. It will take longer, but it will lead us out of the path of Isengard; it is the safest road we can manage."
"A fine conclusion. At any rate, that is all the choice that is left to us, for no one else offers anything." Gandalf looked at Nieriel, and then the Door. "I like this place even less than you do, Nieriel."
"We should not stay the night. We need to get on our feet and get moving."
Gandalf nodded, though it was slightly resigned. "I know." He glanced over his shoulder, at the hobbits who were still talking amongst themselves, though every once in a while their eyes flickered to the gleaming door.
"Do you regret bringing them along?" Nieriel asked gently. She could see the sadness in Gandalf's eyes, could feel the wave of guilt as it passed over him just briefly.
"I regret that I may have stolen their happiness, if only for a time." he replied. "They have never known strife such as this."
"Yet it was only a matter of time before their home was invaded and then ultimately destroyed. Perhaps you did them a favor." Nieriel said.
Gandalf smiled, though it was a weak smile. "I like to think I did."
"What does it mean by 'speak, friend, and enter', Gandalf? It's the only part of the riddle that is truly buggering me." Merry called from his spot on the ground.
Riddle? Nieriel thought with a frown. Those inscriptions are no riddle…
Gandalf's eyes widened, and he moved so swiftly that Nieriel nearly toppled from the rock. The wizard suddenly stood with a renewed vigor, his eyes alight as he stared at the door in blossoming excitement.
"That's it!" He laughed loudly, rapping his staff on the ground twice as he stood tall in front of the door, his spine straight. Enunciating proudly, he said, "Mellon."
At once the door groaned and heaved. Nieriel's eyes widened and she scrambled to her feet as those around her did as well, clamoring before the great, creaking entry. She breathed a sigh of wonder as the doors parted and spread out, leaking musty air from the confines of the abyss of which it kept at bay.
"Moria." Gimli breathed reverently from his own rock, his axe limp in his hands.
"Haha!" Pippin cheered, grabbing at his pack. "You did it Gandalf!"
Nieriel gaped at Gandalf, and he smiled widely at her. "Ladies first."
"What are we waiting for!" Gimli jumped from his rock, tumbling other smaller ones into the water by his feet. "Let us embark into the splendorous halls which await us!"
Nieriel felt something brush against her hand, and she looked down to see her forgotten packs near her grasp. Looking up she met Elladan's gaze, and with a look of softened contrition she took the packs from him. The others around her began to right their wares, preparing to head into the confines while she gazed at Elladan, her heart suddenly in her throat.
I should apologize to him, I was too harsh—
Her ear twitched. Nieriel looked over her shoulder, past the riotous hobbits, Boromir and Aragorn belting their swords about their waists, and Gimli marching toward the open door. Her brow furrowed as she peered over the stillness of the water, which suddenly was not so still. Where did those ripples come from? Her ear twitched again and she felt her heart rate increase, her breathing become shallow in her sudden, seering panic.
Something is wrong, she thought, a split second before her thoughts proved true.
The serene glass-like façade of the water fragmented into a scene out of her nightmares. Countless writhing tentacles broke the surface of the waters, as thick as tree trunks and as pale as death, swirling up towards the sky in blind outrage. A monstrous roar shook the rockface as a creature from the depths of the loch burst forth, spewing water and causing mountainous waves to crash to the shore. The crows that had been watching squawked and took flight, but were brought to earth by the flailing tentacles whirling in the air. The beast was formless, unlike anything she had ever seen, but bigger than the trees surrounding her and seeming to grow as it rose from the depths, dripping putrid water and ugly water weeds.
"Into the Mines!" Gandalf bellowed, and with half of their packs forgotten, everyone charged for the door.
But the beast was quick.
Frodo, ever the buffoon! immediately found himself at the mercy of one who those writhing tentacles. Nieriel watched in horror as it wrapped around his ankle and yanked him high above the water, above the shrieking creature's gaping mouth riddled with saw-like teeth.
"Aragorn!"
At once Nieriel's hands were on her blades, just as quickly as Strider unsheathed his sword. Legolas was already letting loose arrows, one after another, and it wasn't too soon after that Elladan and Elrohir joined him. Nieriel leapt into a quick sprint, ducking low under one sweeping tentacle to come up and slice another. Another swipe of her opposite blade had the monster flailing as it lost a slender limb, and Frodo was transferred to another as the beast struck at her. She skidded on rocks in a crouch to avoid the blow, stopping just at the edge of the water when realization registered.
Gimli! She scrambled from the edge on unsteady feet as a flurry of arrows held the closest tentacles at bay for her to retreat to safety. It was his fault for stirring the beast with his clumsiness!
"Get the hobbits to safety!" Aragorn grabbed her arm, hoisting her to steady feet as he fended off another tentacle with his sword, arrows on his cover.
Nieriel spared only a second to nod; she knew her short blades and her skills at close combat would be no use here. Sliding over the loose earth, she bolted for the other hobbits, grabbing Sam and Pippin by the scruff of their collars. When she met hard resistance she gritted her teeth, a sweat breaking over her brow, and pulled harder.
Has the creature snagged them as well?
She spared a look over her shoulder and met the angry gaze of Sam. "I'm not leaving Mr. Frodo!"
Her jaw fell open. You have got to be—
The beast roared then, and water sloshed over their frames in a horrendous wave. She tugged harder, and her strength must've surprised the hobbit because he gave up ground, stumbled at her feet. Nieriel used the momentum to pull him within ten paces of the Door, but he fought her tooth and nail.
Literally.
Heathen! She just stopped herself from walloping him in the back of the head. Pippin was proving just as cumbersome, even as the battle raged in the background.
"You will die here!" Nieriel shouted, her eyes flickering to the males. Aragorn was at the water's edge, barely holding off a score of tentacles. Elladan and Elrohir, along with Legolas, were aiming for the creature's head with their arrows, but its thick tentacles were bashing them away like flies. Frodo was still in the creature's grasp, but Boromir was hacking away at the arm that held him, slicing angrily, fiendishly. Gandalf stood near the mouth of the Mines, holding Merry by the shoulders, and Gimli was beckoning them on with grisly bellows.
"He will be all right!" Nieriel found herself saying, her brow coming out of its hard furrow, her shout softening to a plea. "You must come with me now!"
Sam stared at her hard, but another roar from the creature had him paling. Nieriel tightened her grip and yanked, pulling both hobbits toward the Door.
Toward the abyss.
She all but threw them over the threshold, and Gandalf followed them in. She turned to watch the battle, not yet out of harm's way herself, and had to jump out of the way as Strider came barreling through the door with Frodo in his arms. Elladan and Elrohir quickly followed, and Boromir behind them. Legolas was backing toward the Door, shooting his quiver near empty, trying his damndest to keep the beast at bay.
"Legolas!" Nieriel shouted, her eyes wild, her heart pounding from the adrenaline coursing through her. "It is lost!"
He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her voice, and a tentacle slithered out quicker than he could account for. Gimli jumped from a nearby rock with his axe raised above his head, slicing the limb clean from its chassis, and it gave Legolas the leave he needed to escape death's clutches. He quickly lunged for the Door, Gimli trailing in his wake, as the creature gave a horrendous roar and began to pull itself from the water, much to everyone's abject terror.
Not just in water but on land it comes too! What have we awakened?
Legolas paused by her, his eyes meeting her own. Nieriel's heart seized its incessant pounding, and her breath slowed as time came to a crawl. Time seemed to shatter, however, when the ground began to rumble and rocks began to fall from above.
"Quickly!" Gandalf cried, and Nieriel broke the gaze to look back at him, and then the beast.
Who was not more than fifteen paces from the mouth of the Mines.
She felt a burly hand around her wrist before she could even contemplate what was happening. With a harsh yank, Gimli pulled her over the threshold and together they toppled down a slight slope of stairs, along with everyone else, as the Watcher in the Water slammed into the side of the Silvertine. But it could go no further. Darkness abounded as rocks and boulders fell from the ceiling, blocking the doorway and crushing the creature, ending its life.
There was more than one cry of fear as dust plumed about them and throats were clogged by the stagnant debris, leading to fits of coughing. Jagged rocks and an uneven terrain tore at clothes and flesh alike as they fell, and weapons, bags, and pots and pans clanged loudly in their wake. Nieriel finally came to a flailing halt atop Gimli, hacking away her lungs, pebbles stuck to the skin of her hands which she had raised to cover her face. There was a myriad of groans around her, more than one angry, "Get off me!" but as she retained a sense of being, she realized they were shrouded in absolute darkness, the air around them so still, stale in its age.
Moria. Beyond her wildest fascinations and spanning every nightmare she could ever conceive, they had arrived. But for the life of her she could not see a thing! That is, until a blaze of light emanated from Gandalf's staff, causing her to cringe and look away briefly, so her eyes could adjust.
And then what she saw left her breathless.
Climbing to her feet ever so slowly, Nieriel looked around what must have been the welcoming hall of Moria. With widened eyes she slowly spun, taking in the vast columns that spanned stories, holding up the mountainous ceiling so far above her head. Carved from grey stone of wonder, the cavern extended past from where the light illuminated, revealing a time long past, long forgotten. The hall gave way to archways on her right, which no doubt led to the bowels of this foul place. Before her, in the wide and ample hall, there were wooden benches with their thick table counterparts set up as if to be served, the lot of them resting before a dais boasting a burly pair of thrones. Nieriel could imagine the dwarves sitting at those tables, merrily sharing war stories and drinking thick mead. The benches of sturdy oak were embellished with fine upholstery, and the tapestries depicting battle scenes and everyday life that lined the walls awed her in their size and detail.
However the tables went untouched, were covered in dust and notched with age. The benches were upturned or broken and lined with cobwebs, and the tapestries barely hung by a thread. The proud emblems and flags of the dwarves drooped faded and limp, the weapons that decorated the walls blunt and forgotten. There were no sconces lit, no torches blazing warm light, the hearths on either side of the expansive room were cold, and there were no welcoming greetings from barrel-chested dwarfs. No. The place was eerily quiet and still.
Foreboding.
"Balin!" Gimli bellowed, starling Nieriel. She whipped her head around to glare at him, and even moved to pelt him on the head with the back of her fist when he opened his mouth to shout again. "Bal—"
"Enough!" Gandalf hissed, spinning so his staff radiated its white light to scour the dwarf.
"You do not want to wake what lies here." Boromir intoned, slowly turning in a circle.
We are not safe here. Nieriel thought, wiping dust from her brow. And now there is only one way out. On the other bloody side of this damnable mountain.
Everyone had come to their feet then, and Nieriel surveyed the group. Sam sported a fat lip no doubt from catching an elbow during the tumble, to which Nieriel thought, serves him right. Frodo looked winded and paler than usual, but he had survived the Watcher, and was clutching the Ring in his shaking grasp. For the most part everyone else seemed unharmed from their unplanned trip down the stairs, albeit a bit dirtier than they would have liked.
Unwillingly, Nieriel's eyes traipsed slowly back to Frodo, to the Ring he absently smoothed a thumb over in his hand. Her eyes fell hooded, her breaths beginning to ease ever so slightly as she watched his rhythmic movements.
Such power, just there… I wager the Ring would see us safely from this place, would show us the way—
"Such as my kin?" Gimli hollered, hefting his axe over his shoulder; he would remain so disbelieving, would not relinquish his hope. "They must be here somewhere!"
Nieriel shook her head violently, dragging her gaze swiftly away from Frodo. Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch as her mind enveloped over what had just happened.
That talisman just dug its vicious claws into me… She shuddered, began to follow Gimli as he walked in the opposite direction of the dais, through an archway that nearly touched the ceiling and was flanked by four others. I have been on this quest too long…
Her gaze brought her back to Frodo then, where he walked under the steady hand of Aragorn. If I felt but an inkling of its power, then what is it doing to that hobbit day in and day out?
The thought troubled her. Frodo had not lived for long ages, knew no evil in his life. He was not trained in battle, could not ward against such vile creatures as what the Shadow could bring. Intrinsically she knew he was needed, that so much rested on his shoulders, but could he handle the burden? When the time came to expel the Ring, could Frodo be the one to do it? He is pure of heart, Gandalf had told her, and not for the first time did Nieriel muse, all the more easy to corrupt. For that is lust; to desire something you have never had, that you cannot have.
And power is power.
They walked under the dark threshold of the archway, Nieriel falling into step next to Elrohir as her eyes brought her upwards. Her gait was slightly stiff from her short tumble, but her leather armor had kept her from the worst of any scrapes and bruises. The twin glanced at her now, asking softly in Elvish, "Are you all right?"
She clipped her head in a short nod, pushing an unruly strand of damp hair from her eyes. She smelled like fetid water, as well as dirt and grime. "As well as I can be. I do not like this place."
"Neither do I." Elrohir replied, keeping to Elvish. "This place is rumored to have been overrun by orcs and the deeper we go, the more I am partial to believing that. This does not look like a place that has been inhabited in even the past year."
"And Durin's Bane…" The balrog. "It is here somewhere."
Nieriel's green gaze flickered to Gandalf, who cautiously walked before Gimli, his sword in one hand and staff in the other. Her gaze brought her back to Elrohir then, and Nieriel thought he looked much like his father in this moment, more so than he usually did; his countenance was very grim. He took after Elrond more than Elladan did, was the more stern and levelheaded of the twins. He had been the voice of reason many a times growing up, and when he had outgrown his youth he became cautious, more stoic than his hot-headed brother. He still held the same god-like good looks that Elladan beheld, but his were more subdued by his careful nature. He did not smile as often as his brother and his laughter was few and far between. However he was a fierce warrior with more courage and loyalty in his heart than Nieriel thought anyone possessed, as deadly a bowman as he was a swordsman.
"I do not think Gandalf knows the way." Elrohir told her, as Gimli led them into a room off of the darkened hall they had been traipsing, looking for any hint of his kin. They had passed gouges in the walls a half a foot deep, dust-covered suits of armor that had been dented or had fallen in shambles to the floor. Nieriel kept listening for sounds in the distance, maybe a hint of some danger, but there was nothing. And it bothered her.
It is quiet because those that lurk hide from something, her conscience warned her.
"And if not him who does? How do we cross the Mines to come to the East-Door?" Nieriel asked in Elvish, and she was keen on the fact that Aragorn was listening, as well as Legolas.
"I do not know." Elrohir murmured, as Gimli led them out of what looked to be an antiquated sitting room, and down the hall once more.
"Someone needs to think of something." Nieriel said heatedly, making sure her voice carried to those who did understand Elvish. Aragorn looked at her from beneath his lashes, acknowledging her irritation, and Elladan sharply inclined his head in agreement. "The longer we wander around not knowing where we are going, the more lost we will be. And I am not keen on dying in squalor." She spoke in Westron then, so everyone could understand, "Where are you leading us Gandalf?"
"I am following a way that is known to me." The wizard answered cryptically, exasperating Nieriel. But she knew from the tone of his voice she would get no more from him.
They carried on like this for some time; Gimli searching for his lost kin, Gandalf precariously guiding the way with his illuminated staff, the hobbits growing slower and slower with their exhaustion. As hard as Nieriel listened and looked for danger there was none, yet that uneasy feeling to her bones would not be shaken. The other warriors of the group seemed to hinge on caution as well, all except Gimli who grew more and more distraught the further they embarked into the Mines without any sign of his kin.
They stopped for a small respite at what Nieriel could only guess was early morning, for there were no windows down here, no fresh air. This left her own edge; she loved the sun, being out in the open, in nature, free to roam and explore. This closeness, this dank earth and dark hollows, had her restless and unable to sleep. She watched the others slumber, even went off for a while to search the surrounding ground, but her travels came up with nothing except a deeper sense of dire portending. She woke the others after a few hours and passed around apples to keep the hobbits happy; she knew they had to keep moving.
Gandalf had taken up the lead, and for what felt like days but she knew had only been an hour or two, they followed him deeper. The air got thicker, the scents around more putrid, and Nieriel got a feeling of unrestrained dread when she caught a whiff of death on the wind. Like bones, not so much rotting flesh, but old, dried, decaying bones…
"Balin!" Gimli startled her again, however this time his voice was not a bellow, was more of a strangled plea. Nieriel's heart lurched as she turned her gaze to him, and she found she could not muster the drive to be so callous and glare.
"Ah gods man, where are ye?" His brogue had thickened in his despair. He no longer walked with that proud swagger, but a slow, unsteady gait, his shoulders slack, his limbs trembling.
They turned a bend and came to the end of another hall, much to Nieriel's annoyance. What is this now? The third? Fourth? She turned to walk the way they came, looking for a new path, but Gimli suddenly gasped and took off in a sprint for a room at the end of the hall, and looking between one another in befuddlement, the others cautiously followed.
The room's gaping doorway was wide enough to allow three bodies to pass at once, and as Nieriel neared the room, she noticed it appeared subtlety lighter than the others, as if there were a window in there. Curiosity nudged her but she hung back from the group, fingers curling and uncurling, preening for the feel of her knives as her gaze darted along the beaten walls, along the scrapes in the stone floor.
This way looks more stricken than the others, she thought, looking to the ceiling, to the abandoned orc weapons laying scattered on the floor. It did not slip her notice that there was a skeleton or two, shriveled in the corner in a cowering position. The closer she walked toward the room, the more debris she noticed, the more frenzied the marks on the floor, the wall.
There was a battle here, she thought, just as Gimli cried, "Ah Balin no!"
Nieriel came to stand in the doorway, surveying what could only be described as a dried and withered sight of a massacre. Skeletons littered the strange cavernous room, which appeared to have some sort of historical significance with its stone pillars in all four corners and an arcing circle of ten tombs with a pedestal at the center, which held an ancient tome and a withered quill. There was indeed a window high near the ceiling, no bigger than a foot in width and length, and Nieriel looked up at it with longing, wishing it were not so out of reach. Suits of armor lined the outskirts of the room, short and mighty and bearing different weapons yet dusted over in disuse and missing pieces here and there. She sighed, watching as Gimli climbed up a short set of stairs to a stone tomb that looked less worn than the others, her brow softening as he ran gentle fingers over the words inscribed there.
The talk is true; they are all dead.
"We should never have come here." Legolas told Aragorn in a rough whisper of Elvish just beyond Nieriel. Strider glanced at Legolas, would not admit the rightness of his statement, as Gandalf slowly wound his way around the bodies littering the cavern and picked up the old, decrepit book resting on the pedestal.
"We cannot linger here any longer. We cannot go back the way we came, but we need to move on, to find a way out."
Which is where? Nieriel thought bitterly, her eyes flickering to Gandalf. Not for the second time, she thought, we are to die down here.
"'They have taken the Bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes...drums in the deep...we cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming…'" Gandalf looked up from the tome, his lips thinned. Gimli was sobbing over the tomb of his cousin Balin, the hobbits frozen in their fear, listening as Gandalf read ominously from the book.
"We have to get out of here, Gandalf, by any means necessary." Nieriel said, drawing the wizard's gaze. Her heart pained for Gimli; she knew what it was like to lose kin, to feel that desolate, aching void where there had once been love and warmth.
"I say we split up." Boromir said, as Gimli growled and straightened, grabbing at his axe with renewed vigor.
"I say we find these buggers and kill them all!"
"We do not even know where we are going; what good would it do for us to split up?" Nieriel sneered at Boromir.
"We could cover more ground, reconvene at a meeting place." Borormir defended his position, and Nieriel shook her head starkly. "Anything is better than this miserable place."
"Arguing solves as much as doing nothing at all. We are getting nowhere." Aragorn said, with a heavy sigh. "I do not know this place, Gandalf does not know this place… We are lost."
The truth of it made Nieriel cringe, and panic again gripped her heart, so tightly that it stole her breath for a moment. Lost. Lost in this horrible, decrepit place. Lost in the dark, in the shadows, in the deep of the earth. The air is tight, there is no wind, there is no grass…
"I thought…" Gandalf looked so weary then; Nieriel felt a keen sense of pity for him, shoving away her panic. She watched as he removed his hat to scratch his head. "I was following the scent of the air. It seemed cleaner down here, but—"
Suddenly, the silence that had followed them for so long was irrevocably and disastrously shattered.
Nieriel gaped as the suits of armor around the room began to topple. One after the other after the other they collided with one another, like an ill game of dominos, harbingers of doom with their noise. Her heart stuttered to a stop, her breath caught in her throat as she watched them fall, clanging, breaking, and rising plumes of dust in their wake.
When the last had crashed, she brought her eyes to the fore, from whence they had started. And there stood Pippin in all of his horrified dismay.
"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf snarled, snapping closed the book. He stepped away from the pedestal, just as Nieriel's ears twitched.
Oh for Eru's sake… She unsheathed her blades, her lips thin as she looked at Aragorn, who had whirled at her sudden movements.
"We are in for company." she seethed, turning to face the door.
AN: Yes, yes, I know, I was slacking again. No excuse this time, just didn't post. Go on, berate me, I deserve it. Anywho, this extremely long chapter (longest one yet!) should make up for it, no? In any case, please forgive me. I will do my best to be more consistent!
As always, thank you all for being so wonderful.
xox - ithilbereth