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The Light Within

Chapter Twenty: Shadow and Flame

by: Sherrywine

January 15th,

Year 3019 of the Third Age

Gwen had never had a more restless night than the one she spent in Moria.

She couldn't get thoughts of Gollum and Frodo out of her head. Knowing that the piteous creature was following them set her on edge, and worries for her friend kept her tossing and turning all night. Would the Ring cause Frodo to become like Gollum? The thought was difficult to bear. It was worse knowing she could do nothing to help him bear his burden; in that, he was singularly alone in this Fellowship.

All Gwen wanted was for the ring to be gone and for Frodo to be free of its weight. The entire quest hinged on his ability to withstand its evil. Without Frodo this quest they were on amounted to nothing more than a scenic tour of Middle Earth. They were really only there as escorts and as moral support, but it was a job she took seriously. Even if you're only trying to find a friend and go home, she admitted to herself.

Her inner voice was not always kind to her.

She also worried about being in the mines so long. It was obvious that goblins had all but destroyed the great dwarven realm – and she had no desire to meet up with even one now. In her estimation, they had already lingered within these doomed halls for far too long and each moment spent further wandering the mines could mean meeting up with a goblin or orc. Every sound kept her on the precipice of sleep, unable to take the fall into oblivion, so that when Aragorn shook her and bid her to get up for breakfast, she was up and moving about almost instantly.

A sleepless night made for a terrible day, though, and it was an omen she didn't need at all.

Gandalf remembered the way they needed to take at last that morning, thankfully, and with luck they would be out of Moria that day. Thank goodness. I want some sunlight. Gwen was beginning to feel a little lethargic and slow, like a body could feel during a long winter without good sun. She wasn't the only restless body eager for the light of day, either. So, after a cold breakfast of jerky, fruit and hard bread, the Fellowship collected their gear and descended through the tunnel after the wizard, who lighted the way yet again with this staff.

Gwen brushed her teeth carefully as they went, needing the normalcy of routine to keep her mind off her worries. Plus, her teeth were nasty. She tried not to think about how her breath smelled. Some habits Gwen could never change no matter where she was, and teeth-brushing was one of them. How long had it been since she had had a shower? Gwen shuddered just thinking about how long she had gone unwashed. It's a miracle I haven't gotten some kind of infection from the nasty. Ugh, Gwen didn't want to think about that.

But no one else seemed to worry about it overmuch. Legolas bumped her from her thoughts quite deliberately. "The air grows thinner and more sweeter, elen." His eyes twinkled with humor that surely the elf was hard-pressed to find. "This is a good sign, indeed!" Gwen responded with a smile of her own, but did not reply; she had to concentrate on placing each foot carefully in front of the other as they descended the narrow steps.

Gandalf 's staff beamed brighter as they passed through the next alcove, and he broke the relative quiet by announcing: "Behold!" he cried. "The great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." The light illuminated far up into the cavern, and Gwen could see great – absolutely huge – carved columns running through the room for as far as her eyes could see. Wow. The massive, ornately carved structures were a hundred times as tall as she was. The stonework alone had to have taken generations to complete.

And Gwen was not the only one amazed by the sight. Gimli and Legolas shared identical looks of awe at the architecture and craftsmanship of the dwarven people. Sam whispered, "Have you ever seen anythin' like it, Miss Gwen?" he asked, awestruck. She placed a hand on his shoulder with a shake of her head.

"No, Sam...I haven't," she murmured. The dwarves were truly master craftsmen. Who were the dwarves that created this place? Were they gone, too, like the elves of Eregion? Or had they merely moved on from the danger they had found in Moria? Curiously, Gwen looked to Gimli for answers to her questions.

"Tell me about the dwarves that lived here, Gimli," she requested quietly. The dwarf, she knew, had still not recovered from the shock of discovering his kin dead in this place. He looked a little reticent to speak, but after gentle prodding he was off and telling of how his kin settled here.

"This place was the ancestral home of Durin the Deathless, the First of our Fathers," he rumbled lowly. "Here he and his kin worked the quarries and forges for nearly two ages..." Gimli trailed away, eyes unseeing momentarily, "Until something awakened under the mountain and slew all the folk who lived here," his gravely voice quivered, and she knew the emotion he felt was far from passing. "I don' know what it is, but tis' called Durin's Bane, and it truly was," he concluded in his gravelly, sad voice.

"They were great folk.." he trailed off, and silence fell as the Fellowship contemplated his words. Gwen was a little rattled to hear of yet another something awakened in the mountain. Especially if that something killed off a whole host of dwarves at some point. The Fellowship made their way through the great columns, and Gwen was glad that Gandalf knew the way through the enormous caverns. A body could be lost in this place forever, she thought as they passed through enormous arch after enormous arch. It was a grim thought, knowing the history of the place.

A pang of bodily awareness hit her and she groaned, causing Legolas to look at her in concern.

"I need to, uhm," Gwen blushed red at having to announce her present need. "I, uhh, I need to go to the bathroom." She was embarrassed. Gandalf's eyes grew wide before registering her words, understanding she would never do her business near them. "Be quick, girl." Oh I definitely will. Gwen was starting to get antsy, and a trickle of unease had started to flow within her.

Gimli suddenly startled the group with a noise of surprise, and before anyone could stop him, he broke ranks with the Fellowship and ran towards a doorway to their left. Gwen wanted to growl with frustration and need. I really need to pee! Where on Middle Earth is he going?

Gandalf called him back, but he kept going, determined to see whatever was in the room. Aragorn turned to her. "We'll be through that room, there," he gestured towards the direction Gimli had gone with a groan. "Do your business and meet us, quickly," he commanded sternly. Gwen nodded and took off behind a pillar, grateful to be able to go at last.

Long moments passed, and the silence was deafening now that the others were a distance away. Gwen's head shot up in shock and fear when an echoing clang rattled through the mine, low and consistent. It would be a signal for any goblins still in the mine that they were there. Oh no! What's happened? They had been so careful to be quiet inside this place!

As she did her business, Gwen became aware of how vulnerable she was with her pants around her ankles. Peeing. On stone. With no toilet paper. Ahh the joys of Middle Earth, she thought with a touch of humor. Gwen finished up as quickly as she could, but business was business. She grew antsy and nervous, aware of the yawning darkness of the caverns and of how acutely alone she was.

Heartbeats passed, tense and fearful as she listened for any new sounds. Gwen began to hear strange scratching noises high above her. She tensed, and suddenly the cavernous space seemed to shrink around her. Gwen reminded herself to breathe, and the tension would pass. Fear streaked through her as she wrenched up her pants and fastened them.

Drums sounded in the distance, low and churning, and heart-stoppingly close to her position; she felt the overpowering urge to run as fast as she could to the Fellowship and hide. Something was out there. Christ! Breathing won't do me a damn bit of good now. Terror-struck, Gwen scrambled for the alcove in which the others had gone, cursing her need for privacy. She had almost made it to the door as the drum beats grew in tempo, and the sound of movement found her human ears. The orcs of Moria knew they were there, now, obviously, and were coming towards her.

Gwen screamed bloody murder when two arrows whizzed by her head.

Hands of icy fear clawed at Gwen's chest as the drum beats grew faster, and the sound of movements grew clearer and clearer. Who knew how many there would be? The room wasn't far from her – thank God. Aragorn and Boromir apparently were very aware of what was going on and closed the doors to the room behind her as she rushed inside. "Orcs," she breathed, slightly winded by her heart-racing run. "Orcs are coming," she gasped out.

The blood pounded through her head achingly. Sam cried out, "Frodo!" drawing Gwen's attention to the Ringbearer, who drew a glowing, blue-silver Sting. Great. Of course. Frodo's sword was much like Gwen's in that it glowed with ethereal power whenever orcs were nearby. This was proof that Gwen was right.

Gwen remembered her own weapons and drew an arrow from her quiver, loading the bow she carried with trembling fingers, not knowing how far the enemy was from the room. Her hands shook, but she gripped the weapon harder, determined to get past her fear. Arrows thwacked against the door, signaling the horde's steady approach. First battle of your life and you barely remember your own weapons.

This moment had been what Gandalf had wanted to avoid.

Gwen took a place next to Legolas in front of Balin's tomb, prepared to defend the less-equipped hobbits from their enemies with her life. Where she got the courage to forget her own survival instinct in those moments, she didn't know. But the sight of the hobbits as they huddled with Gandalf for their own protection stirred something fierce within her even as Boromir tried to force the doors shut with old dwarven axes.

Still, she couldn't keep her hands from trembling and her knees from shaking. The surreality of this moment in her life might have made her laugh or rage or cry, had it not been so critical she remain level-headed. Now was not the time to be cursing her fate in Middle Earth. This event was the result of her choices, now. And so she would fight, to the best of her ability.

Inhuman cries rose up from the cavernous space beyond their room, sending chills down Gwen's spine. Aragorn watched the orcs' arrival through a crack in the door.

"They have a cave troll!" he growled incredulously. The announcement sent a jolt of fear down Gwen's spine, too, but the lack of fear on her companion's faces steadied her resolve as nothing else could. She had never killed anything in her life – except while hunting with Aragorn, but that was entirely different. Could she take a life, even one so wretched as these creatures? Do you really have a choice, Gwen?

It seemed now she would have no choice – it was them, or her companions, and she would defend her friends over any ugly ass creature any day. If Aragorn, and Boromir thought they would make it out of this, she would put her faith in that and fight like hell to help them. Who knows how many foes lay on the other side of that door? She feared the number. But she couldn't afford doubts now. Gwen shifted her weight from foot to foot while they swiftly prepared for battle. The tension was palpable as Gimli drew his ax wit ha fierce snarl and stood on Balin's tomb behind her.

"There is one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath," he growled, irate and snarling. "I will rip their hearts out with my teeth!" His fierceness was a buffer between Gwen and crippling fear. He bolstered her courage.

Gwen laughed out loud at him, and to her it sounded nearly hysterical. "You are fucking nuts, Gimli!" she cried. But she loved it. Fear danced in her blood, making her giddy with adrenaline. Legolas glanced sideways at her, concerned, but she ignored him. Gwen could hear the inhuman shrieks of the orcs coming closer, and together with Aragorn and Legolas, readied her bow and aimed at the door.

"Remember your aim, elen." Legolas' breathed beside her without glancing her way. She twisted her mouth in concentration, aiming carefully for the doors. She would remember. The old wooden things began to shake with the force of the orcs tying to batter them down. The ancient timber wouldn't hold for long. So, they stood, still and nearly holding their collective breath, waiting for the right moment to strike. Gwen flinched when a nasty-looking weapon tore a hole in the door, but didn't let loose the arrow she had notched. The space was too small for her to hit.

Legolas shot expertly through the tiny section, killing the orc trying to break through instantly. At the sight of the hideous creatures, Gwen had to force a wave of panic down. Never had she ever seen such a twisted amalgamation of evil magics and life, combined together into one being. They wanted to kill her, in mindless rage and bloodlust. They'll kill you for sure if you panic. Calm, Gwen, Calm.

Aragorn shot an arrow at an orc as the door came down and the horde rushed in, all too quickly turning the scene chaotic. Gwen let loose her volley with a cry of fear and desperation, and barely registered an orc's death as she reloaded. She shot at as many foes as she could from where she stood before a great roar sounded, nearly scaring the piss out of her, and a giant troll came smashing through the door with a crash. There's the cave troll. Gwen's eyes grew wide at the sight of it, and she was nearly paralyzed with shock.

It crashed into the room, and Gwen was forced to dive out of the way of its club. It roared at them, clearly pissed off they'd interrupted it, or maybe it was angry about the giant chain swinging from its neck, who knew? Clearly, the orcs had not allowed it freedom.

Gwen shot an arrow into the troll's shoulder, but it didn't register any pain or slow its movement at all. Oh shit. Not a good sign. Orcs continued to stream into the room in an unquenchable flow, and Gwen was forced to draw her sword with her left hand to defend herself when the horrid beasts came to close at last.

Gwen had no desire to be in melee range of any of the creatures that swarmed the room, but she had no choice. Burningstar sang with every blow she scored, though, and it encouraged her to continue. As she fell into a steady rhythm, Gwen calmed and seemed to find, in those moments, a sort of equilibrium.

Orcs fell around her and her blade turned black with orc blood as she and her companions worked to stem the tide of the enemy. It was a bloody job, and before long her face was splattered with black blood that she was forced to ignore. It was as if she had left her true self – a person who hated violence in movies and always wanted to do what was good and right – behind in those moments, and become a person who felt no shame or guilt in killing.

In practicing with the others, Gwen had always found it incredibly hard to truly attack them, but in this matter of life and death – for herself and her friends – she found slicing and dicing to be almost second nature. In some closed off part of herself, she found the ease with which her blade found flesh to be fascinating and disturbing, but in the moment she would do what was necessary.

She was determined to do her part; she would not be carried like a defenseless little girl. The stars and vines that decorated her blade shined brighter and brighter as she fought, blinding her if she looked at it. It was a great distraction for her enemies, though, who couldn't seem to stop looking at it as it swung towards them, and therefore never scored a true blow against her.

The cave troll roared with pain, bringing her out of her battle zone with a curious whirling of her senses. Gwen swung around to see Legolas jumping nimbly from the troll's shoulders, and he'd clearly scored deadly blows against the massive creature. He had placed arrows within the troll's head, but still the monstrous creature refused to die. Shit. Some things just need to give up already!

Gwen, momentarily distracted, found herself rushed by three orcs simultaneously, and though she stabbed one quickly, the others were able to knock her off balance. She crashed to the ground with a groan of pain, rolling desperately when the orcs above her stabbed at her with grotesque, dirty blades. With rising desperation she kicked out at them, trying to knock even one off balance.

Luckily for her, one kick struck, and sent the two beasts crashing together away from her. In the moment it took for them to regain themselves, she had scrambled up and onto her feet. With a roar of rage, the orcs rushed her, and she was forced to parry a downward swing from one orc while ducking to avoid the other creature's chin-level swipe.

Gimli appeared alongside her at that moment, his axe splitting the air expertly as he swung it through one enemy as it rushed towards her once more. She was able to finish the last one off herself, shaking her head in disbelief at the lack of intelligence these creatures had shown. Why keep running into the axe? Still, their dull wits meant a win for Gwen and the others.

"We'll make a warrior of you, yet, Gwen!" Gimli roared over his shoulder before rushing towards another throng of orcs pouring through the door, heedless of his safety. She watched his deadly progress with disbelief and awe. He is a fucking nutcase... But Gwen admired his prowess nonetheless.

High, terrified hobbit cries interrupted her thoughts. Gwen looked around, noticing with shock that Merry and Pippin were dangling from the cave troll's back, doing their best to keep the creature from Frodo with shallow stabs to its back and shoulders. She was horrified to see the curly-headed hobbit slumped on the floor across from her, and she rushed out, trying to get to him. What happened? No!

The troll tossed the two valiant hobbits to the ground, knocking into her hard, sending them all to the ground in a heap with a roar of pain. Gandalf and Aragorn attacked the weakening troll vigorously, and Legolas shot an arrow into it's dripping mouth. With a low death groan, the troll crashed to the ground, finally defeated. Gwen, covered by dazed hobbits, sat up slowly. She really didn't want to make any potential wounds worse by moving quickly.

Who knew flying hobbits hurt so much? After gingerly feeling out her own wounds, which were few in number, Gwen checked to see if Merry and Pippin were okay. They groaned and grumbled but for the most part seemed fine. It seemed that she had absorbed much of their weight as they'd come down.

For long moments, they lay heaped together, breathing. Gwen felt as if she was waking from a daze. She had just fought in the first battle of her life – and she had lived. For a moment, she couldn't move, the relief she felt was so overwhelming. "Frodo!" Sam's anguished cry reminded her that the hobbit was wounded – maybe even dead, and the relief she felt came crashing down into horror. Oh please no. She shoved Merry out of her lap impatiently, trying to stand and get to Frodo.

Gwen got her feet to see Aragorn cradling him like a child. He was wheezing painfully, but miraculously alive. Gwen stood there, watching with disbelief when Aragorn pulled the pike from the wounded hobbit, but he seemed okay aside from being winded. She gaped at the jagged points on the weapon, horrified. There is no way that's possible.

A storm of relief filled her regardless. He's alive. Thank God.

"I'm alive; I'm not hurt," the hobbit wheezed out. Frodo breath was a rattle in the air, and the Fellowship converged on him eager to see the extent of his wounds. Sam cried softly at the sight of his friend in such a state, but his relief, too, was tangible. Aragorn looked aghast at the deadly pike in his palm.

"That blow should have skewered you," he murmured, astonished. It seemed that he was speaking all their thoughts. Gandalf sheathed his sword with a soft, barely there smile. "I think there is more to this than we can see," he murmured with a touch of humor. Frodo parted his shirt at the shoulder to reveal a beautiful silver chain mail vest. Sam touched it reverently, and Gimli gasped. It glittered like dulled diamonds.

That must be Bilbo's mithril vest.

"Mithril!" Gimli cried. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!" Gwen agreed wholeheartedly, and she was certainly glad that Frodo was alive, but she wanted nothing more in that moment than to get the hell out of dodge. She wiped her blade on the shirt of one of the orcs laying nearby to clear it of the disgusting black goo before sheathing it awkwardly, trying not to notice the goo that covered her, too. Aragorn helped Frodo up gently, murmuring to him.

Drums began to beat again, ominously, making Gwen jerk and look around warily. Shit. "I hate to be the one to bust up this party, but can we get out of here?" she asked nervously. "I think we'll have more company soon." She looked at the broken door with a touch of fear, and Gandalf nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling at her despite their grim surroundings.

"To the bridge." Bridge? Oh just effing great, she groaned.

Gwen nearly lost her cookies at the sight of the swarming masses of orcs around them. There is no way of this green earth that we can get through that! They had ran from the tomb room and through the great halls and manses of Dwarrowdelf, pursued en masse by orcs – great hoards of orcs. She tripped going through two arches, and Aragorn hauled her up desperately, but Gwen could see they were surrounded no matter how fast they ran. Holy fucking shit that's a lot of enemies.

The orcs closed in, and Gwen knew their prospects of survival were slim to none against so many creatures. Burningstar glowed brightly in her hand when she pulled it from the scabbard, and the light clearly hurt the orcs' eyes. She jabbed it out at them, into the cavernous space between them, and they fell away from her in pain.

"Get away you filthy creatures," she hissed anxiously as more orcs came forth to fill the void she had made, and her heart sank. I don't want to die in this place. Gwen knew she would have no choice in the matter, however, when it came right down to it. It made her sad to think of dying here, in the dark.

Just as she thought the orcs would swarm them and take their lives, a great, furious roar filled the halls of the dwarven city. A thrill of something darker than fear rooted her at the sound, and she instinctively knew whatever made the sound was not friendly. What the fuck was that? An otherworldly, red glow filled the archways, dispelling the shadows therein with flame-like light, and the orcs around them grow agitated and fearful. Again, they shied away from the light. Another echoing roar reverberated through the hall and the orcs lost their courage completely, scattering fearfully away from the source the light and sound. It can't be good, whatever it is, if the orcs run in fear of it.

"What the devil is this?" Boromir cried, and his question was everyone's. Gwen couldn't answer, but she was sure Gandalf could. She looked at the wizard fearfully, and his closed eyes opened, and were full of worry and pain. Oh no...please don't look like that. It was bad news if Gandalf feared something.

"It is a balrog," he explained gravely. Legolas' eyes widened fractionally, and had Gwen not been looking at him, she would have missed the fear in his face. Seeing him afraid did not encourage her. "A fiery demon of the ancient world." Gandalf said, sounding weary and resigned. Gwen closed her eyes, trying to process what he meant.

Uh, yeah...that's bad, alright.

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