Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!

A/N: Good evening!

I'm so sorry for not updating lately! Here's a timeline of what I've been doing in the past three weeks:

Wrote Moria Writer's block Try to solve writer's block Come up with new story idea Start writing new story on AO3 and foolishly think I'll write it in my free time when I'm not working on this Work on Your End is Our Beginning for two weeks Writer's block Get Castor's blessing to return to The Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space Realize I don't have my notes with me Make special trip back to school to get them Struggle with writer's block Solve writer's block! Write!

Sorry, again!

*Updated 3/19/2015*

Enjoy! Please review!

Mallorn Horrors

September 5158, Minas Tirith, Gondor System

Silence fell over the courtyard. No one spoke for several minutes. All eyes were trained carefully on Pippin. The elderly Hobbit sat still on the bench, his shoulders hunched in on himself as if to hide from some unseen beast looming over him. Beside him was a small pile of plates from elevensies, tea time, and the most recent meal of lunch.

Kili glanced sideways at his older brother. Fili looked unsure of himself. Pippin had fallen silent with the most recent part of their story: Gandalf's death. His shoulders trembled but no tears fell from his eyes. No one knew how to react.

"Pippin?" Ori asked quietly. The Reader didn't respond to his name. Creeping forward, Ori gently placed his hand on Pippin's knee. "Are you all right? Pip?" The Hobbit continued to remain deaf to his words. His fingers trembled around the handle of his cane.

"Peregrin," Thorin said, his voice firm with an uncle's care. Kili recognized it from the amount of times he'd cried when he'd still been a beardling. Pippin raised his head slowly. The fringe of his hair did a poor job of hiding the grieving look in his milky eyes.

"Do we need to stop here for the day?" Thorin asked gently. Moving forward, he sat gingerly on the bench beside Pippin and wrapped an arm around the Hobbit's shoulders. "We can pick up again tomorrow."

Pippin leaned into the touch. "N-No," he whispered, his voice quivering. "I-I just need a minute, y-yeah."

"Take as much time as you need," Balin told him gently. "Oin, Ori, and I can continue on with the next part. You were asleep for most of it."

Pippin nodded gratefully and turned to hide his face in Thorin's neck. Bilbo strode forward to crouch before his young cousin, taking Pippin's hand in his own and whispering in gentle Hobbitish.

Balin jerked his head at Ori. The youngest Dwarf grudgingly moved away from Pippin, leaving Thorin and Bilbo to take care of him. He crouched at Dori's feet, hands flat on the ground beside him. Kili stared at him for a moment before imitating his friend. The position was uncomfortable and made his legs tingle, but it made Ori feel better about himself. The Dwarf hadn't quite lost a few of his habits from Moria. Fili crouched beside his brother, sending him a look that dared him to see which of them could last as long as Ori in the position.

"Where were we?" Balin asked, running his fingers through his beard as he seated himself on a small stool Eldarion had brought out earlier.

Dori placed a gentle hand on Ori's head. "You had just escaped the Mines of Moria," he said. "Gandalf had fallen after fighting with the Balrog." Ori shuddered, stifling a sob, and Dori ran his hand down the length of his younger brother's braid soothingly.

"I was on my way to Lothlórien with Bilbo," Nori said as he reminisced. "That was about the time Bilbo had started to think of an escape plan. Serenity was still chasing Sparrow around the universe."

"Tauriel had landed on Lothlórien after losing the Fellowship," Gloin added. "Lady Galadriel offered her a place to rest and told her to stay on Lothlórien."

"Thorin had just spoken with Lady Galadriel," Dwalin said, crossing his arms. Balin nodded along with his younger brother's words. "She'd refused to give us any aid on sneaking into Moria and suggested we wait on the planet."

"What was it she said?" Kili said thoughtfully. Fili snorted and shook his head. "Oh, yeah, very soon you will have no reason to go near that planet. Like that made any sense."

"Perhaps not at the time," Balin pointed out. "But once we reached the planet it did. As for the Fellowship . . . we had reached the Elvish Station and called down one of the few Mallorn from the sky to take us to Lothlórien. The Hobbits," – at this he sighed – "Weren't doing so well. Hobbits never have dealt with grief very well . . ."

O.o.O

January 5092, Outside the Mines of Moria, the Khazad System

Wrapping the blanket firmly around the Hobbit's shoulders, Balin patted the small creature on the shoulder. He was the last of the four to be coerced into sleeping on one of the long beds in the hallway. The other three had fallen asleep quickly enough. Balin supposed this one was the youngest; he looked shorter than the others.

"Thank you," Estel said softly. "I can take care of the rest from here."

Balin gave him a tight-lipped smile. Any other time he would have been prepared to argue – he had plenty of experience caring for distraught Hobbits – but not today. Today he had business elsewhere.

Turning on his heel, he marched down the length of the surprisingly long Elvish ship to a back room. Through the doorway he could see Legolas sitting cross-legged on the floor. The Elf watched something on the other side of the room with a pitying look in his eyes. When Balin stepped in he saw just what it was. Ori had curled up on the floor in a fetal position under a thick blanket. Only his dark, dirt-covered braid could be seen. It curled about on the floor like some strange design.

"Come on, laddie," Oin urged, shaking Ori's shoulder hard. "You need to get up. Balin and I are confused about a few things."

"No," Ori said, sounding like a petulant child. He jerked away from Oin's hands and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I don't want to." Oin huffed in annoyance, shaking Ori harder in an attempt to make the younger Dwarf move.

Balin and Legolas shared a look as the door slid shut behind the Dwarf. Balin locked it with a press of a button. That would prevent any interruptions for the next few hours until they'd landed on Lothlórien. For now, they important business to get out of the way and there was only one Dwarf who could help with that.

"Ori," Balin said in his firmest voice. The navigator of the Arkenstone whined in answer. The mass of blankets shifted, tightening further. Balin sighed in exasperation. "Get up now," he ordered. "We need answers and you're the only one who can give them."

A minute passed; then two. Eventually Ori rolled himself into an upright sitting position. The blanket pooled around his bony hips. Balin took a moment to appraise his young friend. Ori's body had both deteriorated and grown during his time trapped in the mines. While he'd become emaciated – Balin could count each of his ribs easily – he had also gained coils of muscle wrapping around his arms and torso. Scars littered his body. His eyes carried a sharp, fearsome look that warned others not to mess with him. It broke Balin's heart to see Ori have fallen so far.

"First things first," Balin said, pushing his worries aside for now. Oin sat back on his heels, Ori finally sitting up and looking alive. "How long were we down in those mines? Five years? Seven?"

"Thirteen," Legolas said.

Balin blanched. Had they really been trapped in the Mines of Moria for thirteen long years? He glanced sideways at Ori. That would explain why Ori resembled a warrior straight out of the Khazad history textbooks. That also meant too much could have happened while he'd been entombed. They needed to find Bilbo and fast.

"Second question," Balin said slowly. Legolas nodded, ready to answer any question he could. Balin ignored the Elf and rounded on Ori, knowing the younger Dwarf would have the answer. The younger Dwarf quailed at his glare. "Whose wise idea was it to bury me in a tomb?" Balin demanded.

Ori seemed to shrink in on himself. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders as if to hide his thin frame. "Dain's crew," he mumbled. "I was fighting of Goblins when they did it. I couldn't stop them from burying you. And . . . I forgot."

"About the medical mites?" Balin asked. Ori nodded before hiding his face in the blanket. Balin sighed, dropping his mean act. "I suppose I can forgive you for that," he said. "We all seem to forget about the medical mites from time to time."

"Strange," Legolas said. Balin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The Elf wore an almost calculating yet curious look. He'd seen that before, perhaps too many times. "You have had the medical mites for nearly eighty years and you still forget about them at the worst of times."

"Stress'll do that to a person," Oin said with a sagely nod. "Besides, you just sort of take it for granted after a while." Balin couldn't have agreed more. Oin had a nice way of putting things bluntly without insulting anyone, unlike some Dwarves Balin knew.

"Ori told us you were attacked by the Watcher in the Water," Legolas said. Oin nodded again. The Elf frowned in confusion. "How did you survive?" he asked. "We were attacked by that creature and we hardly escaped. It pulled the doorway down around itself then ripped up the holly trees just outside."

Oin's eyes narrowed as the Elf spoke quickly. He raised one hand to flick at his ears then shook his head and turned to Balin. Sighing, Balin signed the words in Iglishmek. The medic's face lit up with realization and he returned his attention to Legolas.

"The Watcher snatched me from the gate," he told the Elf. "And dragged me under the water. I thought I was dead for sure. Then Athelas plunged down, shot the beast's tentacle off, and scooped me up. The medical mites sent my body into a comatose state until something woke the Watcher. It, in turn, woke me. Athelas barely made it through the gate before it collapsed."

Legolas nodded as though this all made sense to him. Balin supposed it did. He hadn't exactly been there to witness of this happening. The last thing he remembered was waking up surrounded by stone with the dull sounds of fighting all around him. Still, that didn't excuse the Elf from being there in the first place.

"That brings up another question," Balin said thoughtfully. He turned to Legolas. "What in the blazes," – Legolas' eyebrow raised in surprise at the rough word – "Were you doing in the Mines of Moria? That place is crawling with Goblins." Oin snorted in laughter and Ori ducked his head, hiding his smile. Balin groaned and threw his hands into the air. "It was a figure of speech."

Legolas smiled. "I at least will not laugh at you," he said. Balin nodded thankfully before kicking Oin hard in the thigh when the medic didn't quit chuckling. Legolas' smile only grew. "Do you remember that ring Bilbo found on the Misty Mountains?"

"The one that made him turn invisible?" Balin asked. Legolas nodded in answer. "Aye, I remember. What about it?"

"It is the Ring of Power, the One Ring," Legolas said. Balin's eyes widened at the words and his mouth fell open in shock. "Gandalf discovered this several years ago when Bilbo sent him a message. He hunted the creature Gollum down with Aragorn's help and learned more about the Ring."

"Imagine that," Oin said in disbelief. "It seemed so harmless at the time. What did he do with it?"

"He sent it to his younger cousin," Legolas answered.

"One of the four Hobbits sleeping?" Balin asked, and Legolas nodded. "Which one?"

"The oldest of the four," Legolas said. Balin glanced at the door, thinking of the tallest Hobbit he'd seen. He had looked a bit like Bilbo now that he thought about it. "His name is Frodo Baggins. He is the grandson of Fosco Baggins." At least that explained the resemblance.

"The one who inherited Bag-End," Ori whispered at Balin. The older Dwarf nodded slowly. Something still didn't feel right about this. "One of the Hobbits is a Reader."

"How do you know that?" Legolas said in surprise. "None of us told you."

Ori shrugged and the blankets shifted down his shoulders. He grabbed the corner and dragged it back up. "I could see it in the way he reacted to everything," he said. "He has a lot of the same mannerisms as Lady Galadriel."

"Bilbo sent the most dangerous ring in the universe to his cousin?" Balin said, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. Legolas nodded mutely. "Why in the universe did he do that? What did he hope to accomplish."

It was Legolas' turn to shrug. "Who knows?" he said. "We held a council on Rivendell about the Ring and the decision was made to take to the Mordor System to destroy it. We were taking the path of Caradhras when we were attacked by crebain. They damaged our ship with their attack. We were forced to land on Moria or be left stranded in space."

"Perhaps it was a good thing," Balin mused, coming his fingers through his beard. "If you hadn't come then we wouldn't have woken up." Ori mumbled quietly to himself at this realization. Balin ignored him and pressed on. "What is the news on Bilbo? Has he been running away from the crew these past thirteen years?"

"Aye," Legolas said. "Thorin and the crew have been following him all over the System. The last time I heard from them was Nori several days ago."

Ori perked up at that. "My brother?" he asked hopefully. "Is he all right?"

"Nori is perfectly safe," Legolas assured his small friend. Ori nestled into his blankets, a content look on his face. "He sent me a message to pass on to the Arkenstone. He said he was with Bilbo and to not answer him, he wouldn't haven't gadget."

"Then we must assume he is still with Bilbo at the moment," Balin said. "We need to speak with him as soon as we can."

"Bilbo or Nori?"

"Bilbo," Oin said. "He sent us a message about Moria. We came searching to find him and were attacked - ."

"By Spiders," Legolas finished with a nod. "Ori told us." Oin gave Ori a look as if he'd eaten the last piece of cake. Ori flushed brightly. "I have been meaning to ask you about that," Legolas said, catching their attention again. "Tauriel and I killed the Spiders all those years ago on the Greenwood Station."

"Not all of them," Balin corrected sadly. Ori's shoulders slumped and Oin shuddered, running his hands down his arms.

Legolas' eyes narrowed as he looked between the Dwarves. "What are you saying?" he asked, though he seemed to already know the answer."

"There was one Spider who escaped," Balin said. He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping. "I don't know how. He might have taken a shuttle before you left the Station."

"I do not understand."

"He's not dead," Balin said. His words hung in the tense air. Legolas' eyes widened in horror. "Attercop's not dead."

.o.

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as the door to the cockpit slid open. Boromir ducked into the room, dragging the door closed once more. Despite its Elvish make the metal still screeched with its old age. The Man offered Aragorn a greeting nod. Aragorn returned it then twisted back around to look out the windshield. His teeth clenched around the unlit pipe, his fingers idly playing with the bowl.

The black sky was filled with pinpoints of stars and the occasional sun. Not far away he could see Lothlórien looming in the distance. They'd make it there before the next night, maybe even afternoon with the speed the autopilot was flying them at.

"I checked on Frodo and Sam," Boromir said as he moved to sit in the copilot's seat. Aragorn watched the Man relax against the leather out of the corner of his eye. "Sam has a minor head injury. We'll need to keep an eye out for any concussions."

"What about Frodo?" Aragorn asked. "I saw that troll throw something at him." Boromir huffed quietly. When he looked up Aragorn saw the smile on his lips. "What are you laughing at?"

"That Hobbit," Boromir said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Has been wearing a mithril shirt this whole time. The spear that troll threw at him gave him a bruise, nothing more."

"Did you check for any broken ribs?" Aragorn asked worriedly. "Mithril won't stop that from happening."

"As best as I could," Boromir answered. Aragorn frowned in confusion at him. The Man gave him a meaningful look. "It's a bit hard to give a Hobbit an examination when he passes out before you're finished."

Aragorn laughed breathlessly and shook his head. Turning in his seat, he watched the distant Elvish planet draw near. He drew one leg up onto his chair and propped his elbow on his knee. Neither of the men spoke for several minutes. Eventually Aragorn peeked at Boromir out of the corner of his eye. The Man looked exhausted for their stressful ordeal.

"Why don't you go sleep," Aragorn suggested gently. "I can keep watch here until we land on Lothlórien."

Boromir looked down at his calloused hands. "I won't be able to sleep now," he said. "Not after what happened on Moria."

Aragorn sighed hard and turned back to the windshield. The thought of Gandalf was still fresh in his mind. He could still see his old friend straining to cling to the rock surface, giving in, and falling. It wasn't something he'd ever wanted to see.

"Have you ever seen the White Tower of Ecthelion before?" Boromir suddenly asked.

Aragorn frowned at the question and looked to the Man. Boromir stared out the window with a dazed look in his eyes. For a moment Aragorn wondered if he needed to go get Legolas to check Boromir for a concussion.

"I have seen it," Aragorn said hesitantly. "Many years ago. I don't go near the Gondor System too often. My people aren't welcome there."

"When did you last see it?" Boromir asked, looking to Aragorn. His eyes held a lost, homesick look in them.

Aragorn swallowed hard before speaking. "Over sixty years ago," he said. "I visited the System after Lord Elrond told me the truth about my heritage. He sent an envoy of Elves with me."

"Did you visit Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked in an earnest voice. Aragorn nodded once, his teeth clenching hard around the pipe. "What do you remember about it?"

"I saw the banners caught in the morning breeze," Aragorn answered. His eyes glazed over as he thought back to the first day he'd set foot on what could have been his home planet. "The White Tower rose high into the air like a spike made of pearl and silver. The trumpets were ringing on the walls, welcoming the men home from their travels." Boromir sat back in his seat with a soft smile. Aragorn glanced sideways at him then sighed. "Your father was not ruling at the time. It was your grandfather, Ecthelion II."

"My father is a noble man," Boromir said. Aragorn hummed in agreement. He'd heard enough from Gandalf to think otherwise. "He tried to follow in my grandfather's footsteps but . . . his rule is failing. The Orcs continue to press against our borders. Our people are losing hope with each day that passes. My father looks to me to make things right and I would do it."

"You are afraid," Aragorn said, not trying to sound accusatory. Boromir's head whipped around and the Man glared at him. "Everyone is afraid of being their parents. It's only natural."

"Some of us more than others," Boromir said. The words seemed directed at the Ranger. Aragorn removed the pipe from his mouth, looking down at his free hand. "I heard what that Elf said to you. You're afraid you share the same weakness as Isildur." Rubbing his fingers together, Aragorn didn't immediately answer. "Maybe you should take your own advice."

"I didn't give you any," Aragorn said, his voice strained.

"Everyone is afraid of being their parents," Boromir quoted. "You're Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself."

"Many children end up following in their parent's footsteps," Aragorn pointed out. "Who's to say I won't do what my ancestor did all those years ago?"

Boromir watched him for a moment, a calculating look in his eyes. "No," he eventually said. Aragorn raised his eyes to look at the Man. "I don't believe you would. Your values are different from what Isildur's were." He nodded as though thinking to himself. "You're going to go on to do bigger and better things than him. I can see it in your eyes."

Aragorn smiled in quiet thanks and returned his attention to his unlit pipe. He would have liked to actually smoke the tobacco but trapped oxygen and an open flame didn't mix well. Boromir straightened up in his seat, his attention turning to the closed door. Aragorn knew that look all too well now.

"Pippin?" the Ranger said knowingly.

"He's awake," Boromir said. Sighing, he stood from the seat and headed toward the cockpit door. "I better see what's woken him up this time."

"Good luck getting him back to sleep," Aragorn said.

Boromir scoffed at that. Any words the Man said were cut off by the cockpit door slamming shut again. Aragorn chuckled softly to himself and turned his attention back to his unlit pipe. He only needed to be patient for a few more hours then he'd be able to smoke all he wanted. He could use one after what he'd just been through.

.o.

"What?" Legolas hissed out. Ori shuddered and pulled the blankets over his head. "What do you mean alive? Attercop was a Man. There is no way he could have survived seventy-seven years. He would have to be an old man by now."

Balin turned to Oin, searching for support in their words. The medic looked almost guilty with what he said next.

"That's just it," Oin said, twisting the hem of his shirt together. "I don't think he's a Man."

"He may have Man in his blood," Balin pointed out. Legolas looked between the two of them, the fear in his eyes growing. He'd seen what Attercop was capable of before. "But I think there is some Elvish in there somewhere. He does not look any older than when you saw him."

"Then you spoke with him?" Legolas said while Oin reached over and attempted to tug the blanket off Ori's head. The youngest Dwarf whined and shook his head hard, refusing to obey the silent command.

Balin shook his head. "More like he spoke," he said. "He laughed in our faces when we made our stand in Mazarbul and told us the truth."

"What truth?" Legolas asked, his throat dry.

Oin stilled in the act of yanking at the blanket. Ori, finding himself free of any orders, tugged the blanket down on his own accord. He looked between the small gathered crew. Balin planted his hands on his hips, unsure of how to continue. Ori saved him from having to.

"He's mad at Bilbo," the navigator told the Elf. "Apparently when you saved Bilbo back on the Greenwood Station you also got Attercop in trouble. The Government refused to pay him since he'd failed and his mother was furious. She won't let Attercop rejoin her web until he's managed to catch Bilbo again."

"Then Bilbo has been running from Attercop for seventeen years?" Legolas said in disbelief. Balin nodded sadly. "That is horrible! Why would he not tell anyone the truth?"

"Attercop told us about that too," Balin said. "The fool of a man thought we were going to die so he spilled everything. Apparently he's been blocking or warping all of Bilbo's messages to us. Anything that got through would have led us to our death."

"It almost did," Ori said. Oin clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "That's why we need to find Bilbo, so we can help him fight against Attercop."

"It's time our Child of the Stars stops running," Balin said. "And made his stand."

A/N: What did you think?

I hope you enjoyed it! I was really worried about not being able to write like I was. I accidentally read the Soulless series and started thinking in Old Victorian English. That came out with a very interesting chapter.