Hi!
Ok, new chapter, and I feel it is my obligation to give a warning and an apology to all the Tolkien purists out there! The beginning of this chapter does follow more movie verse than book verse, simply because I tried doing it book verse, got about half a page written, and ended up writing two completely unrelated one shots in procrastination.
I was just unhappy with how the chapter was turning out, and movie verse FOR THIS ONE seemed to fit a lot better. All of it is not movie, simply the well incident with Pippin being all clumsy, versus dropping a stone down the big gaping hole. Other than that, I think it sticks pretty tight back to the book - it was just so much easier, and so much better of a flow to have it PJ style, and just mush that scene with the chamber of records and being attacked. Other than that little bit, it will be following back to book verse. (Hey, I did say it would be BV for the MOST part! :P). I even worked extra hard on this one, to make up for it!
Again, I'm sorry! Please don't hate me! I love you all so much!!! :)
Anyways, huge thanks to my reviewers, Saerwen, TwiDawnLight, Nameless1010, TavyBeckettFan, Valinor's Twilight, Roranon, Aoihand, DDEC, Dimari, Summer, and Lord Arandur! Thanks so much guys! I live for you guys! You have no idea!!! :)
And as always, a huge thanks to my beta, Gaslight!!!
The footsteps and quiet muttering echoed heavily around the room as Vivienne explored, wandering silently around the large chamber, taking in every detail of its mysteries.
"What do you think happened here?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of the crumbling fixtures, or the bodies that littered the ground.
Now with the brighter light of Gandalf's staff she was for the first time able to see the corpses of the fallen dwarves as they truly were. No longer did they feel frightening and mythical, but toy like and surreal.
She was surprised at how white their bones were, and how brilliantly they shone, a sharp contrast to how she had always pictured the dead. Even through the rusted out armour and the cobwebs that littered their small, misshapen bodies she could see how intimidating they once had been.
"Fallen in battle, trapped in this chamber," Boromir answered, nodding to the two separate entrances. "They locked themselves in. Better they had left both doors wide and fought them in the open than to be ensnared in their orc traps."
She nodded silently, glancing at the large, overbearing doors that loomed on either side of the cavern. She had done her best thus far to avoid looking over at the tomb that had become the centerpiece of this bleak and haunting room, or to the dwarf who stood, head bowed in mourning silently next to it.
Behind her Aragorn and Gandalf were conversing quietly, trying valiantly to not be overheard. Small fragments of what was said still managed to drift across the vast and empty hall, however, and it was enough to remind them of the true severity of the situation.
The rest of the company stood littered, exploring like she. Boromir stood on one side, Pippin the other as they both approached the ominous looking well.
Through adequate effort, both Boromir and she had managed to remain civil, much of the initial tension of their relationship gone. There was still the occasion flutter of annoyance and a dark look here and there, but for the most part, the last three days had remained relatively uneventful in every way. She doubted whether there were any in the company who were not grateful.
If beating each other over the head with their anger had been the only answer to if not a friendship, then at least a conflict resolution, then perhaps they should have done it sooner.
She found the peace comforting, even if she was sure it was forced on both sides.
"Ah - I believe this is what we're looking for," Gandalf spoke from behind, and all quickly turned to look.
From the hands of one of the fallen dead she saw the old Wizard remove an ancient and decrepit book.
"What is that?" Merry asked, moving closer.
"From what I can see," Gandalf replied, opening it carefully and squinting his eyes in the harsh light. "It is a record of Balin's time here in Moria."
A long silence followed before Gimli finally spoke up - the first time he had since the discovery of his cousin's tomb.
"Well? Don't tempt us with idle talk of records and then refuse to tell us anything. What does it say?"
Gandalf remained silent for a few more minutes before finally answering.
What he read out to the group was spoken in no great detail, reciting here and there what he could read and understand every few pages or so. It was not hard to realize how broken apart and in what a bad state of disrepair the book really was. It seemed as if all he could give were broken fragments of segments and words, the rest destroyed by time, blood and flame.
Slowly he coursed through the years, giving bits of information on and off, all seeming to escalate in its course of good news. She was almost fooled into the belief of a happy victory before she was forcibly returned to reality, and the harshness of it that echoed around her.
The fact that even in a fantasy world it seemed there were no happy endings did little to settle her already agitated mind. Quickly she felt the ominous feeling in her gut grow, and her chest constrict tightly.
Never did it feel so much so as it did when Gandalf reached the end of their unhappy tale.
Ori, yet another lost friend of Gandalf's, had a chronicle as well, and his words appeared to be the ones of greatest woe. Balin was dead, and many others close to him, it seemed. Some were named individually, and the recitation of each one appeared to also have a great affect on the heart of the old man as his face visibly aged and saddened.
It also seemed that Boromir had been right in his observations about the ill-fate of the dwarves. Whether it was through knowledge and skill in battle, or sheer dumb luck Vivienne did not know, although her still moderately aggressive mind was more inclined to lean towards the latter.
She fought the fear that attempted to consume her by reminding herself that there likely was nothing left here. They has seen neither hide nor hair of anything even remotely alive down here, let alone of evil.
She attempted to console herself with thoughts that it had been many years since Gandalf or Aragorn had been to Moria, and maybe they were wrong. It was completely possible that the orcs had moved on at this point, and left it well alone - wasn't it?
A loud noise to the side of her startled her quickly out of her thoughts, and she turned her head just in time to see Pippin standing on the side of the well opposite her. The once fully-formed skeleton that had sat there now appeared to be missing its head. Even a fool could put together the hobbit's look of fear, the headless dwarf and the loud clattering noises that sounded down the long, empty hole.
Just as it appeared the disturbance had ended, the skeleton, now imbalanced by the weight change began to tumble slowly back as well.
Quickly she grabbed on to it, desperate to avoid any further commotion and awake anything in the deep, in spite of her attempt at convincing herself there was nothing to fear.
Her effort had no apparent effect, however, as the skeleton continued to topple, bringing down with it the chain and bucket that had lain coiled and attached around the body.
It seemed that the weight of the dwarf's corpse was to much for the leg she had so desperately clung to, and it had tore directly out of its joints.
She stood there, stalk-still next to the well, the rest of the company completely silent as the skeleton boomed and banged its way down the long path to the bottom. She cringed with each crash it made as the noise rippled and echoed through the whole of Moria.
So consumed was she in this new obstacle that she had yet to realize the skeletal leg that still remained limp in her hand. As the room returned to quiet and the company breathed a sigh of relief, she relaxed and gazed down at the object in her hand.
The instant she realized what she truly held, she let an unwise shriek fall from her lips, dropping it quickly on the to ground.
The group had no time to chastise her, or indeed for her to chastise herself for her foolishness. For just as she had clamped her now empty hand over her mouth in alarm, the first sound of their imminent deaths was heard, echoing from the deep.
"No! Do not seal the doors! We may have a chance to escape through them yet!" Gandalf barked, as the company moved to close the doors that lay to the back of them.
Within seconds of the first sounds of danger the group had sealed the door they had entered through. Any minute now the orcs would be descending upon them, and Vivienne would catch her first glance of the monsters referred to with such fear and loathing. Unfortunately, it seemed as though that sight would come with the highest of prices - death.
She stood watching the entrance in pure, unadulterated terror. The doors that had once looked so strong and intimidating now seemed weak and broken, and incapable of holding off the wave of fury that was to come.
"If no one's coming through there, then why don't we just run?" she screamed, fear grasping her heart as tears began to stream down her face.
She whirled around in desperation, looking for something - anything. There had to be a way out. There had to be somewhere to go. She couldn't die here, in this hell hole.
Before she knew it she was hyperventilating, her breath becoming more shallow and rapid with every strangled cry from the hideous beasts, as they descended upon the door mercilessly.
"They are too near!" Aragorn yelled. "We must fight! If we do not hold them off now, we will be overcome!"
"If we don't run now, we will die!" Merry cried from beside her, the hobbits and she all clustering together in fear.
If they ever had anything in common, it was now. Fear and the feeling of helplessness seemed a bond, pulling them together. Perhaps it was the irrelevant notion of safety in numbers? Or perhaps it was just the mere sentiment - to find comfort in another's presence before their gruesome death.
"Back!" Boromir bellowed as the first wave of orcs came crashing through the door.
Words could not adequately describe the sheer horrendousness of their faces, slimy, vile and terrifying. She doubted whether there was anyone who could look upon them and not see the deep seeded evil that was rooted within each one of the monstrous creatures and carried right down to their very core.
Again, she was pushed roughly to the side by Boromir as danger swept all around them. This time, however, she was much more accommodating, and gladly hid behind the large man.
Such was his size to hers she could not see round him in any direction, and for a moment, she was glad for it. Looking around in terror to those around her, she saw all heavily in combat save herself and the hobbits.
No, she corrected herself. Not all the hobbits.
It seemed as though Sam had found some sort of inner courage she herself so overwhelmingly lacked and was fighting viciously with an orc. Somehow one had somehow managed to snake the others' defences, and Sam was heavy in the midst of battle, his strokes obviously novice and unpractised, yet staggeringly brave nonetheless. Where he had received the sword, she did not know.
Vivienne had no time to see the outcome of his stand, however, as she was forced back again by Boromir, and cried out in terror as a slain orc fell dead at her feet.
She realized with overwhelming horror that she had stood seconds from death, so caught up in her desire to focus on anything but what loomed before her that she had not noticed.
For far too many times that week, she had been saved by Boromir. Yet this time she had no way of deflecting it or denying it, or saying that it had simply been a pretence of some kind.
Nothing could have been easier than allowing that monster to hack her into little pieces, yet he did not let it.
This was the first time she had seen him in battle - seen any of them in battle, and words could not describe how small and insignificant she truly felt.
She had no time to utter a quiet thank you, or to fully comprehend how close to death she had come, for within moments a great orc had sprung forth, clad heavily in armour and speared Frodo in the chest with a great force.
There was a great cry of terror and fury, and within moments, the ring-bearer went down.
Anyways, PLEASE review!!!!!!! : I will love you forever and ever if you do!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)