Hey Everyone! Just wanted to say that the amount of reviews, of not just my previous chapter but of those before has been up. Thanks for reviewing!
SesshomaruLovexThranduil: I'm so glad that you loved the chapter, I'm excited to hear what you think now! And Wow did you read through the chapters fast, reminds me of myself. Hehe.
angel897: Thank you for always reviewing to let me know what you think and that you enjoyed the chapter.
Guest from chapter 36/34: It is definitely going to be more difficult with Arwen involved, if she was at all. For all those reading this, along with you, dear reviewer, Arwen was merely infatuated with Aragorn in my story, but Thennil took it too far, as you will see in the coming chapters. She's pretty extreme when it comes to her sister. As for 'making out', well, a relationship takes time, it doesn't happen in an instant. I'm trying to build a solid relationship between the two.
AndurilofTolkien: Yes, Moria is extremely dangerous, as we shall see! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
As they passed over another bridge, staying away from the edges, the wizard held his staff aloft again to light their way. They travelled up many steps, the hobbits counting as they went to keep their minds off of unpleasant things. Thennil had leaned on Aragorn for a time, using his strength to keep her upright, but had steeled her body and walked on her own after they had passed the one-hundredth step.
Her side ached in the extreme, but she kept her face cool and emotionless. The darkness unnerved her; always there had been light of some kind, even down in Erebor there were mirrors that reflected light deep into the vast corridors and walkways. The sun or the stars would light her way, and keep her from falling into despair when she traveled at night. As they walked, her hand was constantly on her side, and adrenaline pumped through her veins as they continued to climb up or descend the stairs. Her eyes were constantly looking about for any flash of movement or soft scratching on the stones.
They had rested once, each taking another swig from the bottle, Thennil excluded. She had one more stowed in the deep part of her doublet, much smaller, yet stronger than even the concoction that she had given them. She feared that even then they would run out of the stuff. Gandalf had warned them to be careful with the water, seeing as they would not be able to fill their waterskins until they reached Dimrill Dale. There were many streams and wells in the Mines, but the water was not safe to drink, polluted with the dross and muck from the orcs and goblins left in it. It would be three or four marches before they came to it, but it was less than forty miles from West-door to East-gate in a direct line, and the roads wound and twisted numerous times.
After their brief rest they started on their way again. Everyone was eager to get the journey through the dark over with as quickly as possible, and were willing, tired as they were, to go on marching on for several hours. Gandalf walked in the front as before. In his left hand he kept his staff raised, the crystal a glimmering light in the immense dark; in his right hand he held his sword Glamdring. Behind him crept Gimli, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he turned his head from side to side. Behind the dwarf walked Sam and Frodo, who had drawn his sword, sting. No gleam came from the blades of Sting or Glamdring; and that was some comfort, for being of elven work in the Elder Days these swords would shine with a cold light, if any Orcs were near at hand. Legolas came after the two hobbits, then Boromir. On each side of the female elf walked the last two hobbits, peppering her softly as they went along about her adventures and the time that she spent with the dwarves in Erebor. In the rear, grim and silent, walked Aragorn.
The passage twisted this way and that for a few turns, and then began to descend deeper into the roots of the mountains. It went steadily down for a long time before it leveled out once again. The air had slowly grown hotter and hotter, it almost reminded Thennil of the humidity of the far south, which she had visited once when she had been more reckless in her wanderings. It was stifling, but not foul, and at times they felt currents of cool air upon their faces, sweeping down through the holes in the cavern roof above their heads, or openings along the side of the tunnel that looked like you would have to be thinner than a board to fit through. There were many of these. In the pale ray of the wizards staff, Frodo was able to catch glimpses of stairs and arches, and of other passages and tunnels, sloping up, or running steeply down, or opening blankly dark on either side. It was bewildering beyond hope of remembering.
Gimli aided Gandalf very little, except by his stout courage. At least he was not, as were many of the others, troubled by the mere darkness itself. It amazed him that Thennil was so affected by the darkness, as he had seen her within the Lonely Mountain many times visiting her niece and grand-nieces and nephews. He had assumed that she had become accustom to the darkness of his mountain. He had spent many evenings with the company listening her tales or those of his elders. It was often that the Wizard consulted him at points where the choice of way was doubtful; but it was always Gandalf who had the final word. The Mines of Moria were vast and intricate beyond the imagination of Gimli, Gloin's son, dwarf of the mountain-race though he was. To Gandalf the far-off memories of a journey long before were now of little help, though Thennil tried to enlighten this when he voiced his thoughts. Even in the gloom and despite all windings of the road he knew whither he wished to go, and he did not falter, as long as there was a path that led towards his goal.
They had entered a cavern that was as high as the outside cliffs, and as littered with holes and crevices as a moth eaten cloth. Here and there along the ground, leaning against the walls and secured with decaying rope, were ladders. Pulleys and rope systems were draped across the room, and deep down into the pit. They crossed over a rickety stone wooden bridge, the hobbits clinging to their companions as they hurried across, fearing the deep pit that seemed to reach and try to swallow them up. Weaving around the uneven walls, they climbed a set of stairs. Gandalf trailed his hands over the walls, bringing his staff closer to as he followed lines of silver along with his gloved fingers.
"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels,' he said, walking slowly on following the thread of silver, 'But mithril."
He leaned over the edge a bit and shone the light of his staff over the edge, a blue-ish glow blinking in it's light.
"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him."
"Oh, that was a kingly gift,' gasped the dwarf, 'I did not know about that,' he whispered back towards Thennil.
She chuckled softly, gritting her teeth as it jarred her ribs, which though mostly healed still gave her discomfort.
"Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire,' continued the wizard as they climbed yet another set of stairs. "Mithril! All folk desired it. It could be beaten like copper, and polished like glass; and the Dwarves could make of it a metal, light and yet harder than tempered steel. Its beauty was like that of common silver, but the beauty of mithril did not tarnish or grow dim. The elves dearly loved it, and among many uses they made of it ithildin, starmoon, which you saw on the doors."
Thennil thought of the necklace that she had given Aragorn, thinking now of the meaning of the metal of the delicate thing. Lasting and bright.
They continued on, climbing stairs and walking along never ending passageways. It was on one steep staircase that they came across what had once been a dwarf cemetery. The graves had been reopened, while there were other bodies that looked like they had been fleeing from something, bags and books scattered about their persons. Some were missing limbs, or even heads, and Thennil could see long dried blood covering the stairs and stones along the edges of her vision. In a few places she was able to make out words scrawled in dried blood, and it made her shudder at the horrible language that was black speech, the language of the goblins and orcs.
Cresting the top of the stairs, Thennil heard Gandalf hesitate, his robes swishing as he moved about. Heaving herself over the edge, along with Merry and Pippin of who she had been helping to climb the treacherous staircase, she looked about her, wheezing softly. Before them were three doorways, each leading in a different direction. Gandalf stood looking back and forth between them all, a frown on his features and his eyebrows creased in confusion.
"I have no memory of this place."
Sitting around a small fire, the grouped waited for Gandalf. They had distributed a small amount of food around, eating it slowly and savoring the taste for as long as they could. Thennil leaned against the wall of stone, humming softly to herself as she ignored the slight stabbing pain the echoed in her side. She had taken out her smallest throwing knife, though it was more of a eating knife really, and had been twirling it faster and faster through her fingers as she stared off into space. Boromir and Aragorn had pulled out their pipes and smoked silently as they spoke softly together, Legolas jumping into the conversation every now and then.
"Are we lost?" whispered Pippin, poking at Merry.
"No, I don't think we are. Shh, Gandalf's thinking."
"Merry!" pestered the hobbit.
"What?"
"I'm hungry."
Thennil dug through her satchel, finding a small roll that had made it through in one piece. Though it was hard on the outside, she was sure that the very inside would be soft enough for the hobbit to eat. She thanked her sister for making such dense rolls, though when she had first started baking she had grumbled over their denseness, saying that rolls had to be light and fluffy, like clouds. She smiled mirthlessly. To be home with her family, safe from the outside world sounded lovely, but it was not her portion. She knew that every person was placed on their world for a purpose, and this was hers.
Tossing the roll into the air once, then twice. She snapped her wrist, letting go of the roll and watched it sail over the area separating her from the hobbits, landing with a 'thunk' in Pippin's lap. He jolted up, and almost stood before snatching the roll from his trousers as it began to roll towards the dirty stones beneath his feet. He smiled, nodding to her, and saluted her with his small hand. She nodded, and settled back down into her spot, looking out over the dark caver below.
She had closed her eyes, meditating silently as she tried to shut out the darkness that seeped into her mind in these dark caverns. Through the fuzziness of her meditation, she heard soft footsteps scraping against the stones coming closer. Blinking, she turned sightly and smirked at the ranger. Even with all of his experience in the wilds he was still unable to sneak up on her. He rolled his eyes at her victorious smile, and sat down beside her.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine, the bruising bothers me a bit, but it shouldn't be to much of a problem after today,' she stated, slipping the blade into its scabbard within her bracers.
He raised his eyebrow, 'How are you, really?"
She cocked her head at him, a few unruly curls having escaped from her braid hanging in her face, 'I am fine."
"You know what fine stands for?"
She rolled her eyes,"No, what?"
"Freaked out...
She glared at him.
"Insecure...
Mentally she put her hands on her hips, cursing her brothers for ever teaching Aragorn about acronyms.
"Neurotic...and Emotionally insecure,' he teased.
"And what does that make you? Lame?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
His face screwed up in confusion, "What?"
"Laughable And Mildly Entertaining,' she stated, crossing her arms, 'Don't underestimate the queen of acronymns."
He chuckled, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he sat next to her, "I'm glade that you haven't lost your humor, even if you seem to be drained."
"And what is that supposed to me-
"Ah! It's that way,' cried the wizard from above them.
Leaping up, the group puts out the fire. The men tap out their pipes, stashing them away within their coats, and hurries up to join the wizard and hobbit. Gandalf points to the right hand tunnel, his staff growing brighter, then dimming back to it's original glow.
"He's remembered!" Merry breathed.
"No. but the air doesn't smell so foul down here,' the wizard said, walking down the stairs, 'If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!"
They walked down many more stairs, the hobbits had given up counting how many they had climbed or descended long ago, and looked up at the massive archway that greeted them at the end of the tunnel. Pausing the wizard looked about them, holding his staff up into the darkness.
"Let me risk a little more light."
Tapping his staff, the wizard lifted it up to shine upon the great pillars. Gasps of awe were heard from all over the group, their mouths hanging open as they gazed upon the masterpiece of dwarves work.
"Behold! The great realm and dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."
The roof towered over their heads, reaching far up. They just got a glimpse of it with a flash from Gandalf's staff. The pillars were so thick that it would take almost the whole fellowship just touching their fingertips together to totally encompass it. Before them stretched a great hall, the pillars rose up to the ceiling, standing in straight lines like soldiers. Though it was silent, Thennil could feel the echoes of a nation once great living and breathing beneath the mountains. She could hear the long dead laughter of children, the gossiping of dwarrowdams, and the clanging of the mining tools on the hard stone as they harvested the mithril deep in the heart of the mountains.
"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake,' gasped Sam, his eye widening as he turned about to take in everything with the others. 'There must have been a mighty crowd of dwarves here at one time, and every one of them busier than badgers for five hundred years to make all this, and most of hard rock too! What did they do it all for? They didn't live in these darksome holes, surely?"
"These are not holes,' stated Gimli, slightly offended that the home of his ancestors had been degraded to such in the eyes of the hobbit, 'The Dwarrowdelf of old was not darksome, but full of light and splendor, as is still remembered in our songs and works."
His continued to walk and admire the hall, the workmanship of his people, while steadily a song grew on his lips.
Chanting:
The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
Now words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.
The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty Kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.
Walking further into the cavern, they continue to look around in awe listening to Gimli continue the song for many verses and stanzas. Thennil walked among the hobbits, watching her feet lest she trip over them as they stopped to admire this pillar or that. She did nearly trip when they all stopped as Gimli froze, inhaling sharply as his chanting died on his lips. Sensing something around the corner that she could not see, she hurried forward as the dwarf rushed around the corner, Gandalf calling after him.
She followed the dwarf as he ran into another vast, empty chamber. In the ceiling a narrow shaft of light beamed through from a small hole, shining down on a tomb. Littered around the room were dwarf and goblin skeletons, piled haphazardly on top of one another. In a corner there stood a stone walled well, what had once been a wooden cover decade and wrought with rust. The shaft of light filtered down to caress a stone table in the middle of the room. Her chest tightened at the sight, the feeling of foreboding that had been kindled in her heart flaring to life. Gimli fell to his knees before it, resting his axe on the stone ground as he bowed his head, his eyes closed.
"No...no..oh..no!" he moaned, and Thennil knelt beside him, resting her hand over her heart as it sputtered within her. He was dead then.
"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It is as I feared," whispered the wizard.
"Poor Dwalin,' she whispered, thinking of the dear dwarf's younger brother. 'Rest in peace, my friend, and feast greatly in the halls of Mahal."
"Kilmin malur ni zaram kalel ra narag. Kheled-zaram...Balin trazlifi,' muttered the dwarf mournfully, wailing softly.
Still resting a hand comfortingly on his shoulder, Thennil stood, looking frantically around the room for another body, or tomb. Where was poor, dear, bookish Ori? He had also come to these halls with Balin, and she wished to bring some news to his kinsmen if they ever made it back to the Lonely Mountain.
Gandalf knelt next to the casket, carefully lifting the rotting remains of a book from beneath a stiff bone hand of a long dead dwarf. She inhaled sharply as she took in the knitted, moth-eaten mitts that covered the skeleton hands. Keening softly, she squeezed the dwarfs shoulder. Gandalf paged through the book, and she tries to avoid looking at the slashes and blood littering the cover and pages, images of Ori's last moments being conjured up in her mind.
Slowly, the wizard began to read, "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."
"Oh Ori,' she whispered sadly. Such a horrible way to die.
CRASH! CLANG!
The group jumped, nerves on end, and turned towards the noise.
"Fool of a Took!' cried Gandalf angrily, 'Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!"
They all fall silent, wincing at each clang and crash as whatever Pippin knocked down the well falls. It echoes throughout the dry well, the chain jangling. A low rolling BOOM rises from the depths below. Growing louder, then another BOOM...BOOM...as if the caverns of Moria turned into a vast drum. Then a great horn blasts nearby, others answering from further away. The sounds of flipper-like feet against the ground echo through the caverns, screams and cries bouncing loudly off the walls.
Gasping, Sam looks to Frodo, "Mr. Frodo!"
The hobbit pulls at the hilt of his sword, and the plump hobbit gasps at it's blue color.
Leaping into action, Thennil grabs the nearest thing to her, an axe, while Boromir rushes to the doors, "Bar the door!"
"Get back!" Aragorn orders the hobbits, grabbing anything that could be used as a reinforcement. He raced towards the door, pushing it shut with the others while shoving different things into the cracks and crevices. Dragging anything weighty enough to help hold the door, she pushed it up against the rotting wood.
"They have a cave troll,' stated Boromir, leaning against the door heavily.
Great! Just what we need! she groaned, hurrying back to along with the others, drawing her sword and shield.
Gandalf drew his own sword, wielding his staff in the other hand. They waited as again and again, making the door quiver; and it began to grind back slowly, driving the wedges back. Gimli leapt up on top of Balin's tomb, and raised his axes in anticipation. He growled stomping his feet a little.
"Let them come! There is still one dwarf in Moria that draws breath!" he bellowed.
Aragorn and Legolas had drawn their bows, arrow pulled back, aiming at the door as it shook and shuddered. They could heard pieces of the wood splintering as the goblins and orcs battered away at it with their weapons. A crack appeared in the door, and through it a spear was shoved. Legolas let fly his arrow, piercing the enemy, it cried out in a hideous shriek. Aragorn and Legolas continued to shoot through the small holes one after the other until the door burst open, twenty or more of the foul beast rushing into the room. Arrows were flying and swords were flashing in the little light to be had as they battled the monsters. Thennil was in the thick of it, abandoning her one sword in favor of the twin blades that rested against her legs. Ducking and weaving around the goblins, she let her blades sing as they battled. Gimli ducked a blow and immediately retaliated, hollering loudly as he buried his axes into the heads of two nearby goblins. Aragorn and Boromir stood back to back for a while, thrusting and stabbing as they moved through the mass of black filth.
"The Shire!" cried the hobbits together, charging into the fray from where they had stood behind Gandalf and the others.
They all sprang forward as one, Frodo leaping up beside Aragorn and Boromir. He stabbed with Sting into a hideous flipper like foot. There was a bellow, and the foot jerked back, nearly wrenching Sting from Frodo's grasp. Black drops of blood dripped from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir hurled himself against the orcs again.
"One for the Shire!' cried Aragorn. 'The hobbit's bite is deep!"
Backed against a wall, Sam stood with sword in hand, a frying pan in the other. In desperation he swung wildly at an oncoming goblin, its black face twisted into a grimace of a smile. The frying pan connected with the things head, a ringing sound echoing through the room as it keeled over, limp on the floor. Eyes widening, the hobbit tried not to gag before he was assaulted by yet another goblin. Swinging his frying pan he clobbers that one too.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this,' he mutters.
When most of them had fallen, the rest fled shrieking, leaving the defenders unharmed, except for Sam who had a scratch across his scalp when he had stepped up to block a blade from falling on his master. Their breather was short-lived as the door was bowled over, the doorframe cracking and toppling as a huge, grey, cave troll waddled into the room, swinging his club.
The fellowship jumped back as the thing whirled upon them, his club swinging to and fro as it brought it slamming down onto the ground where one of the hobbit had been moments before. Legolas shot arrows upon arrows into it, while Boromir and Aragorn held the chain to keep the beast from squashing Sam beneath it's hoof-like foot. The beast whipped around, using its club, and tossed Boromir across the wall. The man slumped, his whole body aching as he sat up, only to come face to face with a goblin, sword upraised to take off his head. Flying through the air came a sword, twisting and turning, then plunging like a spear through the creatures neck. Thennil tossed Aragorn one of her blades, sheathing the other and withdrawing her own longsword.
Fighting off the other goblins, Thennil notices that the troll has found the hobbits. Merry and Pippin cry out, dodging the falling club as they hide behind one of the pillars in the room. Frodo, leans against the other, trying not to breath hard. She parried and slashed, trying to move towards the hobbits as the troll as it hunted Frodo.
"Frodo!"
The troll moves around the pillar, playing a deadly game of hide and seek. Frodo maneuvers around the pillar, the troll sniffing loudly trying to figure out where he went. In a flash, Frodo is on the ground, wiggling back from the troll into a corner as Aragorn rushes through the orcs towards him. Frodo, screams his name, grabbing onto the pillar as the troll grabs hold of his legs. The hobbit slices at the beast, causing it to drop him on the rubble. Dazed, the hobbit tried to raise his sword as he stumbled to his feet. In his blurry vision, he sees Aragorn stabbing the troll with a spear, grunting as he tries to push it back by himself. Then, with a single blow, the troll tosses the ranger into a pillar, knocking him out. Leaping to his feet, Frodo stabbed and slashed at the troll, shaking Aragorn as he did so, but there was no response. Knocking the hobbit back into a corner the troll raised it's weapon.
"Frodo!" she screams, sending a small flash of her power out through her fingertips at the troll, it's golden light distracting it for but a moment before it thrusts into the hobbit.
It was as if time stood still as the halfling stood, his sword in hand, his eyes rolling back into his head as the seconds ticked by. Then he dropped to the ground.
She screamed, her eyes flashing gold as her power lit up her blade in a golden light as she slashed and stabbed through their foes in a fury. Her heart was empty. She had seen Aragorn fall. He was gone, and she would not be able to save him, or the halfling. Merry and Pippin rushed the giant, stabbing his tough leather like skin over and over again in their anger. The others also went on to take down the beast.
Dropping her sword on the ground, Thennil knelt next to the one whom she loved. Cradling his face in her hands as she let a few tear drops fall from her eyes.
"No, you can't do this to me,' she gasped, blocking out all other noise, 'I lost you once, I can't go through that again."
Her heart was breaking within her.
"I love you,' she whispered softly, hiccuping as she burying her face in his chest as the tears flooded her eyes.
A cliffhanger.
No really, we all know what happens in the movies... HE LIVES! HEHEHe...
Please review!
Robin