Escape from Moria
With every step back into the large, dark room, my head throbbed and my ankle protested sharply. I pushed the thoughts away, hand clenching my sword still. Aragorn brought up the rear as we fled, and I hoped Gandalf knew where we were still. I wasn't much closer to the front of the group than Aragorn, and Mori screeched at me worriedly from my side where she flew, weaving between all of our heads. I shot the bird a look, keeping my teeth clenched and ordering my ankle to stop hurting. I didn't have time for this. Around us, goblins appeared and climbed down from the ceiling until the walls looked more like a mass of living things that crawled and jeered. Monsters surrounded us, weapons drawn, until we were forced to stop, forming a tight circle around the hobbits, the monsters shaking their weapons at our small group.
"Go Mori!" I shouted over the din, knowing my friend could escape. She didn't hesitate to do as I ordered. On one side of me, Boromir clutched his sword, looking grim, and on my other side, Legolas drew his bow, eyes narrow as he stared out at the monsters surrounding us. I clenched my jaw, gripping my sword as I waited. We were going to die. I had never been so sure of anything in my life. We had set out to protect Frodo and destroy the ring and we'd failed. I would never see my home again. Still, I would take as many of them down as I could before I died. I felt a tickle on the side of my face and wiped impatiently at the blood. Bloody head wounds. The curse made my smile a bit…or maybe it was the head wound making my brain fuzzy.
Suddenly, the beating of drums vibrated throughout the chamber, shaking the entire mine. I felt it deep in my chest as the ground beneath my feet shook. The din of the monsters stopped, and then they started again, chattering nervously and looking at one another. I looked at the others who looked just as surprised and confused as I felt…except for Gandalf who hunched his shoulders, his eyes closing, a look of sorrow and defeat crossing his face. And then the monsters scattered.
"What is this new devilment?" Boromir whispered as the room emptied of all but us, the creatures fleeing. The entrance to the chamber glowed red, and Mori perched on my shoulder once more. I had to agree with Boromir. Devilment. If monsters were afraid of whatever this was, I thought we should be too. Once more I was reminded that my head throbbed in time with the drumbeat. Finally, Gandalf answered Boromir's whispered question.
"A Balrog. A demon from the ancient world. It is a foe beyond any of you." He looked at each one of us, true fear in his eyes. "Run!" He cried suddenly, leading us once more as we all jumped into action, racing along behind him. All I could get my brain to focus on was that I had to run.
'Concussion.' my brain so helpfully supplied, and I blinked hard, not allowing that thought to remain. 'Keep running.' I told myself instead as we hurried up a staircase that crumbled as we climbed until we were forced to stop at a gap that seemed to be growing by the minute. Without hesitation, Legolas jumped across, landing easily on the other side, but the rest of us hesitated. I made the mistake of looking down, and I didn't know if it was the blood loss or the height that had my stomach turning…or rather, the depths. From where I stood, the chasm was bottomless. Quickly, I sheathed my sword. I would need both hands for this.
Legolas opened his arms, beckoning. "Gandalf!" He cried, gesturing for the wizard to jump. He did, gripping the elf that helped steady him and push him away from the ledge. Before anyone else could jump, Pippin cried out and jumped sideways against Boromir who gripped his shoulder, and Legolas easily shot down the goblin or orc whose arrow had nearly hit the hobbit.
"Merry, Pippin!" Boromir shouted, taking one hobbit under each arm and holding them tightly. He jumped just as the ground crumbled and gave way beneath them, landing safely on the other side. He turned back toward the rest of us who remained, gesturing for me to join them. I shook my head.
"Sam!" I insisted, pushing him ahead of me, and Aragorn tossed him across, right into Boromir's arms. The man helped him away from the edge. Once more, he turned toward me.
"Anne, now!" He called, but I shook my head once more.
"Frodo." I spoke sharply. There was no way I was going before Frodo was safe. As I argued with Boromir, Aragorn reached for Gimli who put a hand up.
"Nobody tosses a dwarf." Gimli growled, then took a running leap, almost making it. Desperate not to let the dwarf fall, Legolas reached out and caught him by the hair on his face. "Not the beard!" He cried, and I almost smiled as Legolas managed to get his arm and pull him up.
"Frodo!" I insisted again, staring at Aragorn who hesitated only for a second before tossing the hobbit as he had the others, right into Boromir's arms. But before the two of us could leap to safety, more of the stairs crumbled, almost causing me to slide off the ledge. Aragorn gripped my arm, pulling me back to his side, and for a second the world spun.
"Steady." He called. The others watched us in worry as a rock fell from somewhere above, slamming into the pillar that held us up. "Hold on!" I leaned with him, him leaning on his sword, me holding out an arm for balance and gripping him with my other one. I was glad I'd sheathed my sword, because otherwise I might have dropped it. Then, the small platform we stood on began to lean forward, and all the members of the fellowship save for Legolas and Boromir backed away. The elf and the man opened their arms, ready to catch the two of us as we fell toward them, the platform finally crashing into the side of the staircase. My stomach flew into my throat as we seemed to fly forward, and I closed my eyes, sure I would plummet to my death right before strong arms caught me.
I sighed in relief, leaning on Boromir for a second, gripping his arms tightly. "Thank you." I whispered, and he smiled briefly at me before we were all running again, not daring to stop for long. It was a flurry of activity, almost too much for me to keep up with as Aragorn and Legolas returned fire on the monsters that still shot at us.
"Over the bridge!" Gandalf cried as they entered another room, and now I could see the bridge in the distance, if one could call it that. To me, it was more a narrow pathway over a giant chasm. I wondered briefly why the dwarves couldn't have made these paths wider.
Flames seemed to fill the room as we crossed. I stopped and let the hobbits go past, but Aragorn pushed my ahead of him, and I relented, following the others carefully as I ran. As I reached the other side, however, I realized that the others were all waiting, staring at something beyond both Aragorn and myself. Turning, I found that Gandalf was still in the middle of the bridge, and beyond him, on the other side but approaching quickly, was a monster, the likes of which I had never seen. The creature was huge, filling the room with smoke and fire, and it roared, standing on hind legs and vaguely resembling a minotaur. I shuddered, stepping forward instead backward against my instincts. 'We have to get out.' I thought desperately as Frodo shouted for Gandalf. 'He can't face this alone.' I drew my sword once more.
"You cannot pass!" The wizard shouted, holding out his staff and moving toward the monster. I took another step but was stopped by Gimli's hand on my arm. He shook his head mutely, horror reflected in his eyes.
"Gimli." I whispered, shaking my head in return, gripping my sword. "We have to do something."
"Our weapons are of no use here, lass." Frodo called again for the wizard who seemed to have forgotten us. On the bridge, Gandalf spoke to the creature as it towered over him, something about secret fire. I reached up, wiping again at my head, brushing the blood away impatiently.
The creature drew a sword larger than a man, holding it above it'd head, and I felt my blood run cold. Still, Gandalf stood his ground. Once more he shouted about fire and flame, but all I could hear was the roar of the Balrog…or maybe the roaring was in my ears. I couldn't tell. Bloody head wound. The thought made my smile again, then wonder at my own inappropriate responses in such situations. "Go back to the shadow." Gandalf commanded, and for just a second, I felt a stirring of hope. Maybe that would work. But the creature pulled out a whip, striking close enough to Gandalf that I felt the head against my face from the other side of the bridge. The giant monster put a hoof down on the bridge, making the ground shake. "You shall not pass!" Gandalf cried, voice full of authority. And then the bridge collapsed under the weight, crumbling into rocks and pebbles that gave under the monster that disappeared from view.
For a second, I thought it would be alright. For a second, I sighed in relief. It was over. Until the whip cracked again, catching Gandalf and pulling him down, his hands barely hanging onto the ledge. Before we could reach him, he stared up at us, speaking so that we could all hear. "Fly, you fools." And then he let go. Frodo was screaming and Boromir was yelling and Aragorn stared in disbelief at the ledge. Gandalf was dead. He was gone. Our leader was gone.
Someone grabbed my arm, pulling me back, but it was Mori, landing on my shoulder and pecking hard at my cheek that got me moving. I ran. I ran for my life because never before had I seen anything like that monster, and I never wanted to again. My ankle threatened to give, but I reminded myself that behind me lay fire and death and a monster waiting to pull me into a chasm with no bottom.
We erupted into the daylight, and my eyes almost refused to open in the bright light. Around me everyone stumbled or froze or dropped to their knees, but I kept moving until I was gripping a boulder in my path, hands splayed out in front of me, all my weight off my ankle as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. I dropped my head against the giant rock, then turned, sliding to sit on the ground.
The hobbits cried. Merry and Pippin sat together, leaning on one another. Legolas stood on a rock, staring down at the ground, his eyes tight, lips pulled back in a disbelieving grimace. Gimli paced, ranting and yelling words I could not hear over the swirling, whooshing in my head until Boromir embraced him, his face grim and sad as he shushed his friend. I closed my eyes, dropping my head on my knees and waiting out the pain and fear and vertigo, until Aragorn's sure voice filled the air.
"Legolas, get them up." I looked up at Aragorn's order to find Legolas's face full of surprise and reluctance. Hesitantly, he moved over to the two hobbits while Boromir stood over Sam. Halfheartedly he held out a hand that both hobbits ignored, and he stood there awkwardly for a moment, not speaking as he waited for one of them to accept his help. I wondered briefly where Frodo was before turning to find him in the distance, standing and starting out away from us.
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped at Aragorn, the reprimand sharp.
"By nightfall this hills will be swarming with orcs." Aragorn called reasonably, his voice traveling over to where I sat. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up!" He reached down to Sam himself, pulling him up and patting him on the back. "On your feet, Sam." I sighed, about to haul myself up when a hand appeared in front of my face. Boromir didn't even look at me as he helped me up. Everyone was preoccupied as they stared straight ahead, still in shock or lost in sorrow. Legolas had a hand on Merry's shoulder, steering the hobbit forward, and Pippin followed his friend's lead. I brushed blood away again, pushing away the feeling of light-headedness with it as I wondered how hard I'd hit that wall. My ankle had ceased to bother me, thankfully, or maybe I'd just gotten used to it. Either way, I had a feeling the walking wasn't over by a long shot.
I was right. Aragorn led us forward, moving purposefully. Frodo lagged behind with me, and I wondered if he, too, was sore from that fight. It was probable that he had been bruised despite his magic shirt. We did our best to hurry along with the others until Aragorn seemed to notice and slowed down a little, turning back toward us in concern. I hoped he would think I was just keeping pace with Frodo, and I turned toward the hobbit too. It seemed to work.
"Frodo?" He asked, seeming to pull everyone back to the present. I looked at the ring bearer who was pale and drawn, his eyes haunted, his lips failing to turn up in recognition of the question. Instead the hobbit just stared at Aragorn. "Are you hurt?" He shook his head, touching his side.
"Only a bruise." Frodo dismissed it, gesturing to where the cave troll had stabbed him. Aragorn nodded, glancing at me, and I was glad for the darkness of the forest, and for everyone's preoccupation with their own thoughts that had kept them from noticing the blood in my hair. I would need to wash that out soon. Mori was the only one who'd noticed, and the bird had kept quiet, only riding on my other shoulder, head tucked against my neck. For once, I didn't complain. My hair did a good job hiding whatever wound had been given to me by the stone walls of Moria. My ankle I could ignore for a while longer. And again we set off, this time at a more reasonable pace, which I appreciated greatly.
Deeper and deeper we moved into the forest until the darkness was almost as it had been in Moria…only this was different, and I knew it. This was fresh air, and if I looked up, peering through the canopy, I knew the sky was on the other side. The forest was old and felt safe to me, like the forest where I'd grown up. Anne Woods…I was named after the place where trees congregated.
Briefly, we paused, each of us leaning against trees or sitting. I fought a wave of sickness and the feeling of heat spreading through my limbs. Breathing deeply, I leaned on the trunk of a huge tree, resting my head and taking deep breaths. Aragorn was speaking to Boromir, but it was a blur to me. I had to fight to stay standing as my head spun. 'No.' I spoke silently to myself, my own voice sharp and loud as my aunt's had been. 'You will not hold them up. You are a warrior. Act like one.'
"Anne?" The soft voice startled me, and I opened my eyes, barely able to make out Legolas in the dim light. Some sunlight could make it through these trees, but the sun seemed to be setting. I was still unsure of the time, thanks to days spent in the mines, but we had been traveling for hours now, and I assumed it was nearing dusk. The elf held out a piece of bread to me, and I took it with quiet thanks, ignoring the concern he was showing. Trying to put him off thoughts of inquiring if I was alright, or worse, yet, having everyone stop for me, I thanked him and took a healthy bite of the bread.
It seemed to work, and I hoped he would just think I was hungry. But the delicious bread sat like lead in my stomach, and I handed the leftover bread to Pippin who, despite his sorrow, still seemed to possess a healthy appetite. The bread did seem to have helped, however, as the heat was receding and my vision cleared a little. I took deep breaths and readied myself to move again. Before long, Aragorn stood and we all followed him without question.
From the back of the group, I wondered if Aragorn knew where he was leading us, where this Lothlorien was, and if I would ever see my home again. Deep in the woods, surrounded by a blanket of sorrow and pain, it seemed as though hope had left us. Our leader was dead, and although Aragorn seemed willing to pick up where the wizard had left off, I wondered if he, too, knew the best way to Moria.
I was behind Gimli and Frodo when the dwarf took the hobbit's arm and spoke urgently about an hour later. "Stay close young hobbit. They say there's a great sorceress lives in these woods." Whatever other warnings he gave were lost to me as a voice spoke inside my head.
"Anne." It hissed, a woman's voice. I looked around, but all I could see were trees and the others who walked ahead of me. My hand went down to my fighting fan, ready to slice at whatever came close. I held it tightly, one hand going up to stroke Mori despite my aching head. For a moment, things seemed to blur, and I took deep breath to push back the dizziness. I didn't have time for that.
"You're hurt, Anne girl." The bird mumbled, another voice speaking to my in the silence. No one turned, so I assumed I was the only one to hear it.
"I'm not going to hold us up, Mori." I whispered, stroking my friend's back.
"You don't belong here." The voice whispered again, but it wasn't an accusation…more of an observation. I grimaced…I hated mind tricks like this. Before I could react, however, Mori screeched and there was an arrow being pointed at my face. Behind the arrow was the fair, beautiful face of an elf. Glancing incredulously over at the others, I found they too had arrows pointed at them, their weapons at the ready, all except Aragorn who put his hand up. Legolas, had his own bow drawn, eyes narrow with something like irritation.
A tall, blond elf stepped forward then, his eyes traveling over all of us in detached amusement. He reminded me of Legolas, only considerably less friendly. Somehow I'd thought all elves would be as welcoming as lord Elrond. "The dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot him in the dark." The strange elf spoke, looking then at Legolas and relaxing a little, and Legolas dropped his bow. I sighed at they spoke to one another in their own language, and again when Aragorn joined in. At the noise, the other elves turned to me, sharp eyes narrowed in confusion or suspicion. I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I wanted to lie down, preferably in a bed, and these elves had to sleep somewhere. Were they friends or not?
"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves!" Gimli snapped. "Speak so that we can all understand." I grinned despite the disapproving gaze of Aragorn.
"Here here." I spoke up, moving to stand by Gimli, heedless of the arrows pointed my way. I shouldered one out of the way, giving a cold look to the one who shifted to point his arrow at my face once more. I was growing tired of this. Tightening my grip on my fan, I unfurled the weapon, bringing it up quickly and slicing the head off the arrow in my face. The elf jumped back a little, eyes wide, but the others pulled their arrows back as though to shoot me, moving closer as they watched me warily. I glared at them, daring them to try as I held my fan. They would probably kill me, but it was the principle of the thing now. Intimidation grated on my nerves. "Point that thing somewhere else, master elf, or you'll lose more than just your arrow." I snapped.
"Lady Anne." I glanced over at Aragorn who stared at me, eyes narrow. Rolling my eyes at the reproach in his face, I snapped the fan shut, slipping it back into my belt and crossing my arms like an irritable child. I couldn't help it. My head was throbbing steadily and my vision seemed to swim in and out of focus. The elf who had spoken turned to Frodo then, apparently ignoring my behavior, and narrowing his eyes. "You bring great evil here." He told the hobbit before looking back at Aragorn. "You may come no further."
Once, in practice, two boys in the year above Ron had ganged up on him. I had come around the corner to find him, back against the wall, a boy of only eleven, as the older boys shoved at him, taunting him and laughing, declaring he'd never be a knight, much less the king. Of course, he could have had his father do something about them, but he knew that the boys would only redouble their efforts if he had his father intervene. None of the rest of them had parents at the palace to protect them. It wasn't until a few years later than Ronald had come into his own, realizing the power he had and putting an end to the bullying.
Ron had been my only friend, and to see him pushed into a corner, hurt and scared and embarrassed, had made my blood boil. The resulting explosion of my temper had led to a broken nose (mine) three broken ribs (also mine) and a black eye (the oldest boy's). All in all, it hadn't gone over well. Still, despite my finger pressed into the scar on my palm, and despite numerous lessons growing up about keeping my tongue, I felt it building again, possibly because I was still bleeding, my ankle was throbbing, and, mostly importantly, Frodo was staring at the grass at his feet as though he hoped it would open and swallow him, just as my friend had been all those years ago.
"How dare you!" It was meant to be a statement. A cold, controlled statement that would merely pique his interest. It wasn't. It was a scream. A wild, exhausted, desperate scream, and I didn't care. My vision swam. Beside Gimli, I thought I heard Boromir sigh, as he had when Pippin had knocked that dwarf skeleton into the well. This time, I was the embarrassment…the liability. But I'd already begun my half-planned speech. "How dare you speak to him like that? Of course he's carrying great evil! We are trying to destroy it!" The other elves had lowered their weapons, but they seemed on their way to pointing them at me again. The one whose arrow I had cut looked as though he were itching to put an arrow in me. "We are trying to save yourworld, but you are too much of a coward to give us shelter!?" At this, the elf's eyes widened incredulously and he took a step forward. Aragorn tried to interject, saying my name softly, but I continued anyway. "We have been walking for months! We lost someone in that bloody mine, you inconsiderate, cruel…" And here, I inserted a curse in my own language, one my aunt had used quite frequently, and even as I told myself it wasn't called for, my exhausted, aching head told me it didn't care in the least. Context, of course, provided the elf with its intended meaning, and the offense was clear on his face. "And now, where are we to go? Will you really turn us away when we are being chased by such evil? The dwarves of Moria showed us more mercy, more hospitality, and they were dead!"
All at once, the fight left me, and I sighed, turning to Frodo and dropping a hand on his shoulder, ashamed to feel my eyes hot and wet. I would not cry. Not in front of this elf. Aragorn spoke then, quiet and apologetic, but Gimli touched my arm with a smile and a nod. I may not have won our case, but Frodo, too, was giving me a weak, grateful look. The elves, however, were eying my dubiously, and I rolled my eyes. Mori quietly called me a fool, and I gave the bird a glare, only to turn back to find the elf staring at my in apparent confusion. Mori then jumped, her wings spread as she landed on the elf's shoulder, her beak coming to rest on his ear as she, presumably, whispered to him. I didn't bother asking. Mori did whatever she wanted. I just hoped it was enough to get them into whatever city these elves lived in and into a bed.
"You will come with me." The elf finally spoke, and I sighed softly in relief. If my speech hadn't helped, at least it hadn't ruined our chances of seeking shelter. Aragorn was watching me with disapproval, but I couldn't be bothered to care. All I could think about was a bed, of getting somewhere safe to rest.
We were led through a city who's sights I could barely take in thanks to the black spots that infringed on the edge of my vision, to a group of elves that wanted to know about Gandalf. It all seemed too complicated for me to follow. Staying upright in itself was providing quite the challenge. I stood amongst the others, waiting to be told where I could sleep. I was hot…too hot to focus on much else. In front of us, a beautiful female elf watched my closely. Lifting a hand, she gestured for someone, speaking softly. Or maybe she spoke aloud. The blackness in my vision was taking over, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to be helping.
Mori screeched from my shoulder, making me flinch a bit at the loud noise right at my ear. Bringing a hand up, I tried to quiet her, but missed and touched my hair instead. A presence was suddenly at my side, and I felt a hand take my arm in a firm grip. "Haldir!" Aragorn spoke sharply, and the hobbits began to speak at once, saying something about doing something wrong…or nothing wrong. I couldn't really tell. A sword was drawn, and I blinked sharply, trying to keep up with what was going on. Gimli growled something, but I was so hot…the last thing I saw was my own hand as I dropped it from my head, covered in bright red blood. "Bloody head wounds." I murmured irritably as someone caught me, and then I let myself sleep.
Thank you all for reading.