I couldn't pull myself away from the tomb, the pure white stone gleaming in the solitary beam of sunlight as if it was the only pure thing left in this place of terror. I was frozen in terror at the knowledge of the things that would soon happen in this chamber that now seemed way too cramped. The walls pushing in from every angle as if they too wished for our demise.

There was part of my mind that whispered to me, a quiet voice full of fear that said I could stop this before it even happened - that I didn't have to fight a room full of orcs and a troll. I could feel the slight sway of my body as I fought with myself over if I should go over to pippin who was standing close to the shadowy walls of a well in the far corner of the chamber.

It was so tempting. So very tempting

But, I knew that this was one thing that I couldn't change despite how I felt. This would bring about one of the biggest shifts of power in the world, stipping Gandalf of everything he now was and throwing him back out as something entirely different. If I stopped Pippin from disturbing the sleeping denizens of this dark world there would be no Gandalf the White to usurp power from Saruman.

I pressed my hands to the cold stone of the tomb to steady myself, trying to glean some strength from the unyielding surface and eventually I managed to gather the strength to push my tired body away from where I had been standing. I looked around the dark chamber, looking for some change that had occurred but I knew nothing would change what I would see. Nine tired faces seemed all too pale in the meagre light of Gandalf's staff, nine faces that had seen enough of the road and yet firm in the knowledge that they would soon see darker places than this in our travels.

My gaze settled on Boromir. My eyes finding him and trying to silently tell him all my internal fears.

He was no mind reader, but he seemed to pick up that I was worried, and I felt a small sense of relief filled me as I watched him wrap his hand around the pommel of his sword. I wanted to just stand there, lost in his eyes, and forget everything. But he was already moving off, stalking the edges of the room in much the same way that an animal might stalk its new territory. I knew he was tired, knew that we all needed more than a moment to rest, but this was someone that knew that duty came before his own needs and that duty right now was remaining alert for possible danger.

Gandalf's voice filled the chamber, breaking the quiet hush that filled it, and seeming all too loud although he spoke in barely a whisper.

"They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, Drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming."

How many times had I heard those words over the years? How many times had I geekily repeated them to myself, as if that was something to be proud of. How many times had I marvelled at the mastery of the cinematography? But the movies had failed to capture the silent terror of the dusty tome that Gandalf held in his hands ... couldn't quite match the actual moment. The heavy silence of the room threatened to steal the words from the wizard's voice but failed, history would not be silenced this day. I could see the depth of sadness in Gandalfs eyes for what had happened to a friend he had last seen all those many years ago.

I took a step back from Gandalf, my arm flailing to capture Boromir as he finished his circuit of the chamber. He gave me a reassuring smile, but I could see the silent fear in his eyes too, and I felt somewhat better knowing that I wasn't the only one that felt scared in this dark place.

A loud clattering broke the quiet of the room, strange echos bouncing off every wall, and I turned my gaze to Pippin just in time to watch the last chain link in what must have been a long 'rope' tumble down into the well. The sound seemed to reverberate through the mines forever, echoing on into an endless labyrinth of tunnels that had to honeycomb this whole mountain range. After what seemed like an eternity the echos faded into nothing, and all attention turned to a very embarrassed looking Pippin.

The poor fellow looked as if he wanted nothing more then for the mines to provide him with a nice hole to hide in!

Silence once again filled the room, and I could hear a collective sigh of relief from the fellowship. I knew that they thought that they had gotten away with it, that such a racket would pass un-noticed, but I knew better. I already had my free hand wrapped around the hilt of my sword and was trying to pull Boromir back toward the entryway of the chamber. Somewhere behind us, I could hear Gandalf as he berated the poor hobbit

"Fool of a Took. Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity"

"Freya?"

Boromir's questioning voice made me stop a brief moment, my hand letting his arm free as I pulled myself slightly away from him so that I could pull out my sword. I gave him a saddened look as I tried to show him just how sorry I was that I had to let this happen as I pushed my shoulder against the door.

"They are coming"

It was all I needed to say. Boromir instantly moved to help me as the first sounds of a beating drum echoed from somewhere in the mines. I couldn't tell how far away our foe was, the mines had a way of distorting the sound in such a way that it seemed to be both close and far away all at the same time.

I planted my feet firmly to push harder at the door wanting nothing more than for it to close faster, time now was moving way too fast again, and I jolted as two arrows thudded into the half-closed door. The dark fletching of the arrows quivered from their suddenly halted momentum, I stared at them as Boromir chanced a look into the hallway.

I had just about gathered myself when Aragorn came to help us close the door. Now that I looked at the door it didn't look like much of a defence, the old panels of the door were pretty much rotting on their hinges and there were even large areas that looked so bad that I was sure I could pull them off with ease if I wanted too, but we had no other choice for defence. The rotting doors would have to do. A low rumbling roar floated up out of the darkness as Boromir firmly closed our door, his face turning to look to the rest of the group.

"They have a cave troll"

Cold panic filled me as I backed away from the door, numbly watching as Boromir and Aragorn braced the door with the strong shafts of two great axes. It wouldn't be enough. I knew it, as did everyone else in the room as the two Gondorian men retreated into the room. I was barely aware of the sound of swords being unsheathed over the sound of the screeching orcs, the dull thud of their bodies rebounding off the door echoing in the chamber. My sword was in my hand before I even had a chance to think about it, the metal feeling heavy and awkward in my grip.

It felt like not too long ago that I had made my first kill, and while I had some training I still felt woefully unprepared for what I was about to face.

My shaking arms lifted the sword into the now-familiar guard stance that Boromir had taught me all those months before. I should have felt strong, I should have felt as if I could handle this, but I didn't feel strong or ready in the slightest. I knew that my body would know what to do, but my anxieties whispered dark untruths to me - as terrible an enemy as the ones that were attempting to break down the door not more than a few feet in front of me. I tried to look calm, tried to look like the warrior I was trying so hard to be, but I couldn't help but feel like I was failing miserably.

I was still shaking when Boromir stopped beside me, his hand coming to rest on mine briefly to correct my stance.

"Stay close to me. You'll be fine. Breathe, and remember your training - you know what to do, trust yourself"

A feral growl from behind me was all the reminder I needed that I was not alone, Gimli's voice held both the grief of losing his kin and the deep anger he must feel toward the orcs that had no doubt killed his kin.

"Let them come, there is still one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath"

Boromir grinned, holding tight to his sword in one hand and shield in the other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the door crumbled away before our very eyes. The gaps I had noted before were certainly wider now, and the orcs took advantage of the holes instantly by feeding their arrowheads through them and losing them from the string. There wasn't enough of a gap for them to get a proper aim on anything, but they were still accurate enough that Boromir had to lift his shield to block one that came sickeningly close to meeting its mark.

The barrage of arrows continued as the doors shook, then with one last push from the orcs it gave way entirely, and a wave of dark bodies poured into the room. It was as if a dam had burst and released it's water all at once, so quickly did the orcs rush into the room. I found myself instantly in a fight for survival, my arm lifting my sword to parry aside the first sweeping strike from the dark-skinned beast I was now fighting. The features of the orc were twisted and animalistic, but just human enough in their looks that I couldn't help but feel the bile rise. I would have to kill something sentient and humanoid, this wasn't like the warg I had killed some nights before at all, and I wanted to flee to the back of the chamber where I wouldn't have to kill anything at all.

The orcs would never allow that. They were here for one reason alone, to kill the intruders in their domain and I had no doubt they would chase down every single one of us to achieve that.

It was kill or be killed, and I knew what one I would prefer.

My sword continued in it's circling movement to fully push aside the blade of the beast, allowing me to step into his reach and kick him back with my foot to give me just enough space to bring my sword darting back in to plunge into the beast's neck. Dark blood sprayed out from the wound, the warmth of the liquid as it hit my face almost enough to make me vomit, but I stayed focused as the Orc fell dead to the ground only to be replaced by another Orc.

There was no time to vomit. I had to keep moving.

I stepped back and found myself once again at Boromir's side, almost close enough to feel his warmth as I settled into a dance of death with him once again. It almost felt natural to fight like this, to duck and weave around him with such ease. We had never trained in any such fighting style, and yet here I was covering his blind spots while he covered mine! Any sword that came for my back would be met by the unyielding wood of his shield. Any orc that thought that it had found some opening in his defences would find itself skewered by the point of my blade. My insecurities faded as pure instinct took over, fed in equal parts by adrenaline and terror. What skill I lacked thanks to the training I made up for in improvisation.

There was a certain sense of satisfaction to be found in seeing an orc, that thought it had finally found an error in my skills get skewered by his companion that had gleefully seen the same error only for me to dodge away at the very last moment. It was all pure dumb luck, and I knew I was dicing with death - before long something had to give and I wasn't sure what would come first. My lack of skill or my lack of endurance. This wasn't a training session that would end before I ran out of energy - this would only end when the fight ended.

Luckily the arrival of the troll took my mind off the burning muscles in my arms. The sheer size of the beast was beyond explanation. The beast was all muscle, lumbering limbs and grey skin that seemed to be too loosely draped over its body. It towered over everyone else in the room, it's head almost brushing against the ceiling as it surveyed the chamber. We must have seemed like we where some kind of insect, insignificant and pitiful ... perfect for squashing! The troll lifting his crudely fashioned club as high as he could, then brought it down to the ground almost squashing Sam in the process. The hobbit was so lucky, I was sure that a solid hit from that club had to be instant death with the weight of the troll behind it. The troll blinked dumbly as if not understanding how it could have missed before turning to where Sam was hastily trying to crawl away from it.

"The chain!"

Aragorn's voice reached my ear and I turned to watch both him and Boromir take hold of the giant chain that was attached to a collar on the beast's neck. The pair pulled backwards, and for a moment they seemed in control of the troll - which was amazing considering the fact the troll must weigh a couple of tonnes at the lightest. They almost had it down when the troll somehow managed to stumble around back to an even footing, the sound of its club cutting through the air was almost surreal and both men were smart enough to duck under it. I lost track of the pair a moment as I moved to parry yet another blow from an orc, my breath sounding way too heavy as I fought against the beast. How long had it been since the orcs had broken through? It was but a moment ago, but it seemed like it had been a lifetime.

I had just managed to decapitate the creature when I heard the sound of a body hit a wall.

I knew what had happened before I even turned to look. Boromir had not freed himself of the chain and had been flung against the wall like a ragdoll and now laid impossibly still on the floor.