Their euphoria at escaping certain death from the wargs and the watcher did not last long. They soon realized that they had not actually escaped death, but merely postponed it. The Mines of Moria were a death trap. Even with Gandalf lighting the way they were easily a million ways to die here.
The years since the dwarves had left Moria had not been kind to it. Without their careful maintenance the infrastructure of the mines was beginning to deteriorate. Paths that had appeared solid crumbled suddenly under the feet of the fellowship, sometimes leaving gaping holes in the middle of the path that those that were not yet across had to find a way around or jump across the chasm.
The first time this had happened, it had been Emily who had almost fallen to her death. She would have too had Boromir not grabbed her arm and pulled her back at the last second. She grasped his arm reflexively as she attempted to recover herself after almost plummeting into the abyss. She was so absorbed in the fact that she had almost died that she did not notice the way he winced as she gripped him. Due to this preoccupation, she was surprised when she pulled her hand back to find it covered in warm, sticky blood.
She wasn't shocked at the blood, per se. About half of the fellowship was still covered in the dried blood of the wargs since they had chosen—unanimously—that speed through the mines was more important that being clean. Their choice had also been made since water would be a precious commodity in Moria that would be better used to drink than to bathe. No, what surprised her was not the blood but rather the fact that the blood was still wet. From what little she could see in the gloom, the blood on the others had long since dried.
"You're hurt," she said. It wasn't a question. She knew that the blood now covering her hand was his.
"I will be fine," he replied, his tone dismissive. " 'Tis but a small wound. I can tend to it at a more convenient time."
"What kind of wound?" she asked as they carefully made their way around the chasm. She knew that it was a dumb question but she needed something to distract her from the fact that at any moment the thin ledge she was walking on could join the rest of the floor in the abyss taking her with it.
"A battle wound," Boromir replied smugly. He knew that he could simply tell her that one of the wargs had managed to bite him, but he too was attempting to forget the fact that they were literally walking on the brink of death and this light, teasing conversation was the ideal way to do it.
Emily could tell, even if she couldn't see it, that Boromir was smiling as he answered her. She sighed and shook her head a smile on her own face. She really couldn't understand how he could come up with such a smart-assed answer in this situation. She knew that her brain was not that quick at the moment.
"And how did you sustain this "battle wound"?" she asked matching his tone with a little sarcasm of her own.
"In battle," he replied simply fighting the urge to laugh as he imagined the look on her face. He knew that his reply would agitate her but had been unable to resist. He wasn't entirely sure why he chose to provoke her, but it amused him to do so. And something about the darkness made it easier for him to be more forward with her, as did the fact that she had rescued them from the wargs. No agent of the enemy would have done so, or so he thought. If they survived the Mines he would offer her a formal apology, unless, of course, she betrayed them in the dark.
"Worry not," he continued before she could reply in what he feared would be a loud manner. "I will tend to it at our first rest." He could tell by the sigh that followed that she was not satisfied with that answer but he could offer her no other.
After his assurance that he would take care of his wound, they lapsed into silence. In general, the fellowship as a whole was silent. They all could sense that there was a sleeping malevolence in the darkness of Moria that was best left un-woken so any conversations that did take place were truncated and conducted in whispers. Even the young hobbits seemed to realize the danger and were quiet and watchful . . . for a time.
But as with anyone, hobbits can only be terrified for so long and eventually the body grows accustomed to that level of fear. Theirs became accustomed to it the first time that Gandalf had stopped to try to determine the correct path. As he and Gimli had consulted, the youngest hobbits had been exploring the area with the curiosity of the young and walking precariously close to the edge of a hole in the path prompting Aragorn and Frodo to grasp the handles on their packs in case the floor should give out from under them.
Gandalf sighed as he watched them. Not for the first time, Gandalf almost regretted convincing Elrond that Merry and Pippin would be a good addition to the company. Their ability to find levity in any situation was placing themselves and potentially the entire company in jeopardy. His one solace was that they were at least being quiet about it. And even though he was feeling slightly hostile towards them for their lightheartedness in the place that would lead to his death he could not truly be cross with them. He would take quiet levity over loud hysterics in this situation any day.
I cannot find fault in them, he thought as he forced down his frustration with a sad smile no one could see. They do not know what is to come. Despite what he had told Emily about being willing to die if that was what it took to stop the dark, it was difficult for him to continue on knowing that every step he took was a step closer to his doom. He knew that death came to most creatures eventually, but he had never expected it to come to him. Now that the time had come, he realized that even with all the time he had spent on the earth it was not enough to truly savor the beauty of life. Even so, he would not turn from this path. He would face it whatever form his end took.
As this last thought crossed his mind he set his shoulders with a kind of grim determination and stood. He had found the path that would lead them onward towards their goal . . . or so he hoped. The others, with the exception of Emily and Aragorn who knew the truth behind his determination, were comforted by his demeanor. To them it meant that he knew where they were going and was determined to get them there safely by any means necessary—even if that meant leading them through the infamous Mines of Moria.
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Eventually, after more than one member of the fellowship had begun stumbling from exhaustion and unseen snags in the darkness, they found a large platform that was surrounded by a low wall and seemed to be entirely solid. It was here that they decided to call the first rest. As they gratefully set their packs down, Pippin asked the question that many of them had been wondering since they had entered the Mines.
"Gandalf?" he asked and waited for the wizard to acknowledge his question before he continued. "What happened here? Why are the paths so unstable when it is clear that they were once strong?"
"Yes," Merry added speaking quietly. "And why does the air fell so tense? It's almost as if it is waiting for something to happen. I don't like it."
"Nor do I," Legolas added. "To me the air does not feel tense, but hostile. There is great sadness here."
"Alas," Gandalf replied with a sigh, "That is not my tale to tell. If you wish to know the history of the Mines of Moria you should ask Gimli. It is a tale of the Dwarves and should be told by a dwarf, if he so chooses."
"I do not wish to tell it," Gimli said slowly, his deep voice rumbling in the dark. "However, if you truly wish to know, I will." He glanced around the circle and saw the eager expressions of the fellowship, his eyes more accustomed to darkness than those of the others. Realizing that he had a captive, interested audience he sighed deeply.
"Moria was once a great kingdom called Khazad-dûm," Gimli began. It would hurt nothing to give them an abbreviated version of the history of the dwarves. "It was ruled by Durin and prospered. Many riches were to be found in the mountains, but none was more precious than mithril—to give the Elvish name. Mithril was the true prize of Khazad-dûm.
"With skills now lost to even the dwarves Durin's people turned the raw mithril ore into a product stronger than iron that had the beauty of silver. It was especially valued by the elves, with whom we had free trade at that time," Gimli continued, looking at Legolas and Emily as he said that last part. When the quest had begun he had shared his people's inherent dislike of the elves, especially the Mirkwood elves, but as the quest had continued he had begun to see that he had perhaps been wrong. Elves were not the aloof, heartless, apathetic people he had been lead to believe. They had emotions. They cared. And they were doughty fighters, not simply sentimental stargazers and songwriters.
"The Elves were willing to pay handsomely for the metal, and the dwarves were more than willing to mine for it," Gimli explained with a shrug. "It was due to this that they continued to dig beyond prudence. It was their digging that awoke the monster: Durin's Bane. I do not know what manner of beast it is, but it was terrible enough that it killed many, including Durin and drove the remaining dwarves from the kingdom of Khazad-dûm.
"A few attempts have been made to reclaim Khazad-dûm," he said. "The most recent by my cousin, Balin. I had hoped to reunite with him here. However, the condition of the main road from the west door makes me doubt that he ever came here and I fear for him if he did."
"Then I hope he did not," Frodo said suddenly looking at Gimli sadly. "I remember meeting Balin when I was younger at Bag End. He had been kind to me. It would grieve me to know that he is dead."
When Gimli said nothing more the others sat in silence. Emily especially was shocked by what she had heard. She had never known the why the Mines of Moria had been abandoned. Somehow knowing that so many people had died here in the past—not including the dwarves that came with Balin that were also dead—made the place seem all the more real to her. Somehow their deaths, more than the threat of her own, solidified the danger. For the first time she wished that she would have at least picked up a stick she could use to defend herself while they were in the woods.
Gimli's story had affected the others too. Most of them had never heard what happened in the mines, or if they had they had never thought about it much, figuring that they would never come there. After a time, it was again Pippin that asked the question that had been plaguing the minds of the entire company.
"But it's gone, right?" he asked, his tone desperate and his voice higher with the fear he now felt. He almost wished that he had never asked for the history of Moria. "Durin's Bane?"
"No one knows," Gimli replied. "But I would wager so."
"I fear you would lose that wager, Gimli," Gandalf replied. "I do not believe it has gone. But if we are lucky we will slip past it unnoticed."
"Do you know what it is, Gandalf?" Merry asked. He wasn't sure that he wanted the answer but he felt it was a question that needed to be asked.
Gandalf sighed. "I have my suspicious," he eventually replied but he would say no more. From the descriptions he had heard of the beast it was a balrog, but he was not sure and refused to tell the others and have them fear it more than they already did. Not until he was certain would he tell them what manner of creature Durin's Bane might be.
"Come," Aragorn said suddenly startling many who had been lost in thoughts and speculations about what Durin's Bane was or about the fear the dwarves must have felt as they were slain by it. "We should rest. If we wish to sneak past unnoticed by the creatures that dwell here we must be alert." At his words, the others silently began preparing for sleep.
Boromir looked up as he sensed someone standing over him as he unrolled his bedding for the night. In the dark he could just make out Emily's red hair and see her hands situated on her hips as he glared down at him. He looked up at her in confusion.
"Do you require something from me?" he asked when she said nothing.
"You have something you need to do before you sleep," she reminded him. She sounded all the world like a mother scolding a thoughtless child for forgetting their chores.
"Do I?" he asked, attempting to keep his tone neutral despite the fact that the way she was speaking to him grated on his already raw nerves. "And what would that be, pray tell?" She raised an eyebrow at his question even though she knew that it was futile.
"You have a wound to tend to," she reminded him. "Unless you would rather that I do it. I'm pretty good at first aid, comes from being accident prone." She offered the last bit sheepishly. Somehow she figured that he would neither want nor appreciate her help but she also knew that it wouldn't hurt to offer.
"You would do that?" he asked suddenly. He didn't understand why she cared so much for his well being. He had not been kind to her initially and had been suspicious of her even after he had begun to be kind. Her compassion for him in the face of his actions shamed him.
She nodded before she realized that it was useless. "Yeah," she said with a shrug. "If that's what it takes to get you patched up, I'll do it."
He sighed before he stood and took her elbow. "Come," he said. "I would appreciate the help. We can use the light of Gandalf's staff to make this easier." As they walked past the hobbits Emily caught a snipit of the conversation they were having.
"Running from wargs all day and then no hot meal," she heard Sam mumble. "I don't like this trip one bit."
"I'd prefer missing a couple of hot meals to dying," Merry replied simply.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mister Brandybuck," Sam replied. "But that is just unhobbitlike, that is."
Rather than being offended Merry had laughed, as had the others.
"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo said. "We'll get you a hot meal when this is all over. Just wait and see."
Emily smiled as she listened. Their banter reminded her of the way she had her friends had always interacted. She wondered how things were going back home. Had anyone even realized that she was gone yet or did time move differently here? She didn't know if they missed her, but she missed them. Even though the fellowship was beginning to warm up to her it was not the same. She wished she knew if she would ever get home, even if she did survive the quest.
Boromir's hand tightening on her arm caused her to come back to the present. She looked at him curiously and he gestured with his head in the direction she had been walking and realized that while she was lost in her thoughts she had almost walked right off the platform.
"Oops," she grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was thinking about home." In the light of Gandalf's staff he saw the sadness that was in her eyes as she admitted to missing her home. At the word, Boromir had an image of the White City flash through his mind along with the faces of his father and brother.
"Try not to get lost in the memories," he said gently. "If you die because of them you will never have the chance to return there." She sighed in response.
"I may never get to anyway," she said sadly. Her words shocked him. It had never occurred to him that she may have to spend the rest of her life in Middle Earth. Aragorn and Legolas, though they had not been eavesdropping intentionally also heard her words. Even though the thought had occurred to both of them before, they had hoped that she would not realize it for some time. Or that she would never have to realize it because she had been transported home as suddenly as she had arrived. In the soft glow of Gandalf's staff, Emily could see the pity on their faces.
"Well," she said swallowing back her tears. "Let's do this, shall we?" She was trying to change the subject. The others had more important things to worry about than her little problems: like trying to stay alive. She would take their friendship if it was offered, but she didn't want their pity.
Boromir nodded, sensing that she wanted to change the subject and more than willing to oblidge. All this talk of home had saddened him as well. He wondered how his city may have changed by the time he returned or who would be there to greet him when he did. Feeling slightly self-conscious he began to remove his shirt. Even though the sleeves were loose, the wound was high on his arm and it would be easier to treat without the encumbrance of his shirt.
As he began to strip Emily felt a flush creep into her face. True, she had seen men naked before. She had even had sex with one. And back home a shirtless man was not an unusual sight, but somehow the idea of seeing one of these men naked was different for her. Even so, she couldn't help but admire the musculature that the act had revealed. Her blush darkened as she realize that her admiration had not gone unnoticed. For the first time she was thankful for the darkness because it might hide her blush from the others.
Despite the fact that he mind was telling her not to, she reached out her hand and gently grasped his arm just above the elbow. Using her left hand, she gently traced the bite mark the warg had left in his arm. He had been lucky. Even though the punctures were deep and still oozing blood it had not gotten a firm grip. It had only gotten four teeth in and any one of those wargs could easily have bitten his arm off.
Releasing him, she dug in her bag for a cloth. While she was doing this Boromir was watching her closely. He didn't think that he had imagined her blush, or the slight tremor in her hands as she had touched him. He wondered what they had meant but rapidly decided that her blush was just that as a woman she had never seen a man in such a state of undress. The tremor could be explained away just as easily: she was afraid of injuring him further. Yes, those were perfect explanations for her behavior. Even so, he couldn't help but notice the gentle yet firm way that her soft hands grabbed his arm once more as she bathed the wound and bound it.
"Since this is a bite I don't think I should stitch it up," she said. "I don't think you are supposed to stitch bite wounds. I'm just going to tie it up. Try not to use it too much until it heals, ok?"
He smiled at her words. His sword arm was the one that had been injured. She may as well have asked him not to breathe. If there was a battle before they were out of Moria he would have to use it. The risk of reopening the wound was less dire than the risk of using his weaker hand to battle orcs.
"I will attempt to rest it," he replied. "However I can make no promises." She smiled at his tone. She should have realized that she was making an impossible request.
"That'll have to do," she said before checking that her not was solid and walking to where she had placed her pack near Aragorn and Legolas. The Man and the Elf exchanged glances as they watched the end of the exchange between the other two. They had both seen the entire thing and knew that this was a relationship that they would need to keep both eyes on. After all, Emily had no father in this world to insure her honor was protected.
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Well there we all y'all. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was trying to slip in a little more fluff-ish stuff before the scenes that have to come next. But I can't change everything and the fall of Gandalf is too important to mess with :(
As always, thank you to the people that added this story to their favorites or alerts.
And a special thank you to:
dannastarry: I'm glad that you appreciated it. I almost didn't put it in, but I hoped that someone else would enjoy the math behind it.
ZabuzasGirl: I'm sorry that it wasn't immediately, hopefully this was soon enough. The next chapter is almost completely written but this seemed like a good place to stop and I didn't have time to edit the next part. Hopefully I can get the next one up in less than a week.
Katia0203: Thank you! I hope you had a Merry Christmas as well. And don't worry lots of simmering was accomplished. After we get through Lothlorien things will fly . . . for a while at least.
Ilovelotr: Thank you so much! I try to lay things out well and I am glad that that comes across. I was really worried about the blood and gore. I know that people reading romances don't often like it when there is too much blood. I hope you still feel that it was worth the wait after reading this chapter :)
Padme4000: I'm glad that you didn't forget! And I hear you on the stress. . . *sigh*. They bothered me SO much in the movie! I agree that the book wargs are much scarier. I was glad that they changed the design in the new Hobbit movie. I like those wargs so much better. I couldn't leave that out! That is one of my favorite scenes from Moria. And where would be the fun in that? If I wanted to follow the movie I would watch it. Half of the fun of fanfic is messing with plots and characters (within reason of course). And there is nothing sad about that. Since I have so many characters that DO speak elvish I should probably look some up, but I probably won't. Bloodless battles bother me to no end. Especially if you are going to kill off main characters. But I kinda understand. Most people don't really know enough about the human or animal body to realize just how much blood, gut and fluids there really are in there. But no, beautiful covered in blood. . . I don't think so. . .Scary as hell. . . perhaps. And I hope you had a Merry Christmas and hope you have a happy new year.
SunnySkies: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter.
Well, that's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter of this story and that you have a happy start to the new year.
See you in the new year,
Stickdonkeys
