A/N: Hey Fam! Hope you all have been able to make it through last week without my update. Visiting my family was really nice and I'm happy to bring you the next chapter! I'll be posting chapter 22 later tonight...like probably late..I got a teething little tart who won't stay asleep for too long, so my writing times are cut short. Regardless, I will endure! Don't forget to Follow & Favorite to stay updated on when the next chappy is posted and don't forget that I love more Reviews!

Mia: Thank you for your review, and I would be happy to answer your question. First off, I will say that I don't view myself as an expert on anything Tolkien related, and have done as much research as I can, as well as make up my own stuff when I have run into a dead ends. To answer your first question: Yes. As far as I have learned, Elves who find others that they mix well with on a higher level than just physical attraction will be able to sense the difference. Since Tori grew up on earth for those 13 ish years, she can sense this she had been attracted to many guys on earth, but this is different for her. She just doesn't know what it means...yet. As for your second question, you have to remember that she is still new to being an elf. She can't remember anything about her life before she was brought to earth and that will be brought to attention later in the story. Also, elves could go millenia, before meeting a 'soul mate' that would bring on the change. For example, from what I have read in one of the appendices of Tolkien's, elves feel no sexual attraction or lust until they find someone who could be their potential other half. If we go with this bit of info, Arwen not finding anyone before Aragorn really makes sense(at least in my mind anyways). Of course a lot of this is shrouded in mystery, because even Tolkien didn't really say much on this matter, so I'm going to say yes, there is a bond forming between them. Hope that answered your q's!

Katia0203: I know, right? Poor Tori is just so confused right now! Oh phew! Thank you for your input on the action scenes. Not gonna lie, dread writing them and reread them a crap ton before I post each chapter for fear that they will suck monkey butt. Your review means a lot to me!

Kyle: Do I detect the faint hint of minty sarcasm-y freshness? If so, that's okay, I eat sarcasm for breakfast :)...And I adore the minty flavor. Thanks for the review, even if you were trollolololollin'. Also thanks for reading my story!

Namárië,

Tasarin

Chapter 21: The Doors of Moria

After the hobbits, Legolas and I had packed up camp, Gandalf and the rest of the company came back with grave news: The wolves weren't normal wolves. They were werewolves sent to hunt us down. When I had first heard Gandalf say it, my mind immediately went to myths and lores of Earth and asked him about it. Turns out that a werewolf of Middle Earth is summoned from a very dark magic and they can't truly die; A joy for us really. With such dangerous travel circumstances, Gandalf wanted to skedaddle on down to Moria-and rightfully so.

Still covered in nasty arse warg blood-that was now flaking off my skin and stinking of Satan's baws-Gandalf promised me that I could wash up in a stream on our way to Moria. Everyone gave me a wide berth...Well, when I say everyone, I really just meant the hobbits; they avoided me like the plague-can't say I blamed them though. The others seemed accustomed to the smell of death. Gimli, bless his soul, wetted a cloth with some of the water from his waterskin for me to at least clean my face off.

The morning stretched on and there was nothing but rocks and hills. So we kept travelling long into the afternoon. From the back of the line, I could see the frustrated frown lines wrinkling the wizards jowls. Every so often, we would stop and he would look about the land, muttering to himself about nothing looking familiar. For touting his cousin's name around and begging to go to Moria, Gimli wasn't much help either. Hell, has he ever even been there? There would be words for sure if that ended up being the case!

It was during our recent stop, that Gimli-who had gone a little ways ahead to scout-had called back to us and pointed to a slight change in the landscape a little ways before us. A deep and narrow channel cut into the rock and curving to the right. There was the sound of a slight trickling of water, and that was enough to have me sold! At last I could clean the grimy filth that clung to my body and clothes.

"Ah, here it is at last!" Gandalf cried with relief and recognition, "This is where the stream ran: Sirannon, the Gate-Stream, they used to call it. But what has happened to the water, I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late." With renewed vigor and a pep in his step, Gandalf led us down to the ancient and crumbled road that ran along the sad dilapidated stream.

As we neared, my heart fell with a very important realization: I couldn't wash up in this stream. Its water was so drained, that the little water that it did have had tiled up the muck and mud at the bottom of the canal and stank of mildew and decay. My only hope at this point was that this canal would lead us to a larger(not to mention, much more promising)body of water.

…

I don't know how long we walked for, perhaps an hour or two, but my feet were sore and the sun was beating down on us. The air was dry, and although there was a bite of chill, it was bearable compared to the frigid and blizzard like conditions that we faced while climbing Caradhras.

After a quick meal and rest break, we continued again. When it seemed like the boring and drab land we walked through couldn't get anymore dull, it suddenly changed. The beaten down ancient path that we followed led us back around to the mountain. The path looked as though it was carved straight through the stone. High and jagged rock faces rose up around us and the almost dried up channel. The trail led us uphill, and soon we came to stop again at a low cliff face. A small trickle of water dripped down from a worn precipice of stone-no doubt that it was once the fountain of the Gate-Stream.

"Indeed things have changed, but there's no mistaking the place," Gandalf hooded his eyes with a hand and looked up at the cliff, "There is all that remains of the Stair Falls. If I remember right, there was a flight of stairs cut in the rock on the side. There used to be a shallow valley beyond the falls right up to the Walls of Moria, and the Sirannon flowed through it with the road beside it. Let us go and see what it is like now." The old man led the search for the stairway, not bothering to delay our journey further.

It didn't take long for us to find it, and surprisingly once found, Gimli was the first one up-He sprang up those mountains like a frikin mountain goat! Gandalf followed shortly after the spry dwarf, then Frodo, then slowly, one by one we all made our way up the stairs.

Once I crested the cliff, I learned why the once great Gate Stream had been reduced to a sad little trickle: The stream had been dammed and a dark and eerily still lake had filled the shallow valley. The sun, which was beginning its descent in the sky, glimmered a buttery gold. It did not match the pallid cliff walls on all sides of the lake. The cliffs rose into a bowl of impassible rock surrounding the lake and much to my confusion, I couldn't see any sign of a door. Has it been destroyed when the stream was dammed?

"There are the Walls of Moria," The wizard pointed across the water, "And there the gate stood once upon a time, the Elven Door at the end of the road from Hollin by which we have come. But this way is blocked. None of the company, I guess, will wish to swim this gloomy water at the end of the day. It has an...unwholesome look."

"I wouldn't particularly mind a swim at this point, old bean," I spoke up and all eyes turned to me. Gandalf scowled at his new nickname.

"As of right now, it would be unwise to delay any further until we are at least within reach of the doors." I frowned, but sighed. Just a little further then. I chanted in my mind. It brought little comfort, but still comfort nonetheless.

"We must find a way round the northern edge," Gimli nodded, "The first thing for the company to do is to climb up by the main path and see where that will lead us. Even if there were no lake, we could not get out baggage-pony up this stair."

"In any case, we cannot take the poor beast into the Mines. The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can." Gandalf agreed.

"Poor old Bill! I had not thought of that." Frodo looked sadly at Sam, whose eyes were wide with shock. Sam had grown to love the beast and even I could see that it would be difficult for the timid hobbit to say goodbye.

"I am sorry. Poor Bill has been a useful companion and it goes to my heart to turn him adrift now." Gandalf placed a comforting hand on Sam's small shoulder. Sam sighed and nodded, before turning silently back to the pony to whisper his goodbyes.

…

By the time that we had reached the other side of the lake where the supposed Door was hidden, dusk had fallen upon us and the stars glinted and winked down at us with their soft light. Gimli led us along a narrow creek. The water was stagnant and green grew from everything that touched the water; dead branches and boulders alike. At one point, the little trail led us through the creek, and the water felt disgustingly slimy on my shoes as the water seeped into my boots. I shivered as we waded through the ankle deep water.

There was no way that I would be able to clean myself off in this water, and I had already resigned myself to the fact that I may not get a chance to clean up until after we had completed our journey through Moria. On the far side of the lake, the sound of rippling water could be heard, followed by a gurgling of bubbles, before silence fell upon the lake again. The entire valley had seemed all but devoid of life until that moment, but the eerie feeling that I had felt from when I had first laid eyes on the lake came back with a very deep intensity.

I watched as the dark ripples reached the shoreline where we stood and shivered again. The hairs all over my body stood on end in warning. What kind of warning, I couldn't say, but I most definitely felt eyes watching us. Gandalf and Gimli increased their pace and before long, after passing a thicket of decaying and waterlogged trees, we came upon two living and mighty trees nestled right up against the cliff.

"Well, here we are at last! Here the elven way from Hollin ended," Gandalf said before pointing to the trees, "Holly was a token of the people of that land, and they planted it here to mark of their domain; for the West-Door was made chiefly for their use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria," Gandalf sighed as he placed a hand against the massive trunks of one of the ancient sentinel trees, "Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different races, even between Dwarves and Elves." Gimli grunted.

"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned." Gimli replied in a terse tone.

"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves." Legolas replied to Gimli's comment from behind me and I smirked as Gimli glared.

"I have heard both," Gandalf cut in and warily casted a look of annoyance to both elf and dwarf, "and I will not give judgment now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends and to help doors are shut and are hidden, and the sooner we find them the better."

Legolas' shoulder brushed against mine, sending a jolt of warmth down my spine as he passed and looked back briefly with a small smile before he joined Gandalf in the search for the doors. Gimli stood as stone for a while, before he finally gave up whatever sort of pride he held against working with Legolas and also began to help.

While they searched, the rest of us had been told to lighten our gear load and leave all of the gear we had needed for our trek up the mountain. There would be no need for it in Moria. Sam stood, morose with hunched shoulders by Bill. The pony had sensed Sam's sadness and nuzzled the hobbit's ear. Poor Sam burst into tears as he embraced Bill's neck before he unclipped all the tack and bags. We gave Same a wide berth with Bill as we finished sorting through the packs.

Once finished with sorting and discarding what we didn't need aside, we all turned back the sentinel trees. I stopped short and the sight and bit my lip at the sight. Gandalf seemed to stare...no glare into the walls, as if his eyes were about to shoot beams right through the rock; Gimli rapping his axe against the stone in random succession, and Legolas standing over in the corner with his ear pressed against the wall. I cleared my throat to stifle a laugh that bubbled up my throat.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" They all stopped and turned, "Or better yet, what they hell are you guys not doing? Where are the doors?" All scowled at me, including Legolas, but I could see that he was trying to hide the quirk of his lips.

"Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut," Gimli replied dryly, "They are invisible and-"

"Well that's bloody convenient!" I cut in. Gandalf grunted but ignored my comment as he moved closer to the wall, muttering something under his breath. It was too quiet for me to hear, which was saying something because of my elvish hearing. After a moment he stepped back from the wall.

"Look! Can you see anything now?" Underneath his hands, a patten, seemingly invisible at first, became more clear against the grains in the stone. Gandalf must have incanted the clouds away or something, because right as I stepped up to the wall to trace to pattern with a finger, a moonbeam cut through the dark and fell upon the cliff wall.

At first the lines etched into stone were just that: stone, and then the next moment, they started to glow and glint like a vein of silver shining in the moonlight until they brightly shimmered themselves with what seemed like a light of their own. A tall arched doorway appeared, along with several other symbols; an anvil and hammer, stars and two trees.

"There are the emblems of Durin!" Cried Gimli

"And the Trees and the High Elves!" Legolas breathed as his hand touched one of the glimmering trunks in reverence.

"And the Star of the House of Fëanor." Gandalf said pointing to the large star that rested underneath the anvil. A sense of familiarity washed over me as I inspected the elvish family crest. Where have I seen this before? Of course I had seen this crest numerous times as I researched through the book of heraldry that Lord Elrond had gifted me, but the feeling I felt was different. Almost as if I knew of it before I had seen it in the book. I hadn't brought it with me; something so precious as that would not last the trip.

"What does the writing say?" Frodo asked curiously. It broke my concentration on the star and I looked up at the flowing script, "I thought I knew the elf letters, but I cannot read these." The characters were indeed very different from the Sindarin letters that I had learned.

"The words are in the elven-tongue of the West of Middle Earth in the Elder Days," Gandalf answered, "But they do not say anything of importance to us. They only say: 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.' And underneath small and faint is written: 'I, Narvi, Made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these'." I stopped at that and held in an unladylike snort. The rest of the party didn't seem to notice, although Legolas was watching me curiously. It seemed as though they were perfectly content on passing over the fact that there was literally a 'Narvi and Celebrimbor were here' sign carved out of stone and magic. Right, nothing to see here. I shook my head in amusement.

"What does it mean by 'speak, friend, and enter'?" Merry asked

"That is plain enough," Gimli replied back, "If you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open, and you can enter."

"Yes, these doors are probably governed by words. Any who knew the opening word could speak it and pass in. At least so it is recorded, is it not, Gimli?"

"It is," Gimli took a little while to respond and when he did, he sounded unsure, "But what the word was is not remembered. Narvi and his craft and all his kindred have vanished from the earth." I shifted uncomfortably in soaking boots and leaned my back against one of the massive trees. I was tired, my feet were wet and slimy, I had dry, flaky blood all over my clothing and skin and I smelled of death. I was so done with everything and in desperate need for comfort before I lost my temper.

"But do not you know the word, Gandalf?" Boromir asked dubiously.

"No!" The wizard's voice rose in frustration. Everyone went silent and Gandalf spoke again, "If you wish to know, I will tell you that these doors open outwards. From the indies you may thrust them open with your hands. From the outside nothing will move them save the spell of command. They cannot be forced inwards." Gandalf's eyebrows furrowed furiously as he turned again to face the doors in concentration.

"What are you going to do then?" Pippin asked in a soft voice and flinched as the old man rounded on him with a face full of raging fury.

"Knock on the door with your head, Peregrin Took. But if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will seek for the opening words," Gandalf walked back over to the door and sat down on one of the trees' large and exposed roots, muttering under his breath about once knowing all spells in every tongue.