[Written with respect for, but no ownership in, the works of J.R.R. Tolkein, Peter Jackson, Philippa Boyens, and Fran Walsh.]
15 January, 3019. Third Age.
"Behold the great realm and city of the Dwarrowdelf."
The previous day's halt in the guardroom had ended when Gandalf abruptly picked the northern passage. After endless hours spent trudging along wide, upward sloping corridors, they had finally reached the cavernous hall that now stretched out before them.
The gleam from Gandalf's staff flared and all stared about in wonder. The faces of the Fellowship turned upward, eyes traveling along the height of towering pillars to reach a vast stone roof far above. Shadows flickered across the broken floor below. The end of the hall was somewhere in front of them, shrouded in darkness.
"There's an eye-opener, make no mistake," Sam muttered. He moved forward to make sure he stayed within the comforting circle of the wizard's light.
Gimli caught sight of a small room off to their right. Just beyond its doors, a high window sent a shaft of dazzling sunlight down to illuminate a stone table. The dwarf's stomach sank. He took off running.
"Gimli!" Gandalf cried.
The dwarf reached the white oblong slab and sank to his knees. "No!"
The other members of the Company entered the chamber slowly. The wizard moved to one side of the slab to read the inscription at its head. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin. Lord of Moria." He sighed before adding, "He is dead. It is as I feared." Gimli wailed at the words, and Boromir moved to put a sympathetic hand on the dwarf's shoulder.
Aragorn and Legolas remained near the doors. The elf read the tension in the man's body and knew what the ranger was thinking. "We must move on. We cannot linger," he whispered. Both looked toward Gandalf, hoping he could pull the Fellowship back together. But the wizard's attention had fallen on a crumbling book held between skeletal hands. Gandalf gently loosened the scribe's death grip, opened the book to the last entry, and began reading aloud.
"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." Dread filled the Company. The Dwarf bodies scattered about the chamber had undoubtedly met a cruel end. Gandalf intoned the final scrawled words. "We cannot get out. Shadow moves in the dark…We cannot get out……they are coming."
Dead silence was broken by a sharp metallic clatter. In a far corner, Pippin watched in horror as the helmed head of a dead dwarf tipped backward from his hand and fell over the lip of a well. The armor-clad body of its owner slid down to follow. Scrapping the walls all along its descent, it dragged a length of chain in its wake. A bucket at the end of the links flew over the side. The entire mess—helm, armor, chain, and bucket—hurtled down into the depths of Moria. The raucous din echoed through the halls. Finally, the jumble crashed into something far below.
Silence descended for several heartbeats. "Fool of a Took!" Gandalf growled. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"
Pippin stared at the floor in shame, but the wizard halted midstep. What Pippin at first took for the loud beating of his heart became an echo from inside the well. Doom, doom sounded a drum-beat in the distance. Doom, boom, doom. The drums beat faster and harsh laughter cackled from below.
"Orcs!" spit out Legolas. Boromir rushed past him to look outside the chamber. A set of arrows plunged into the doors, missing him by inches, and a howl went up from the darkness. "They have a cave troll," he muttered to Aragorn as they slammed the doors shut.
Quickly they barred the doors and readied their weapons. Legolas nocked an arrow and straightened into prefect stance, easing the bowstring back to full drawn. His mind cleared of all distractions. Bow, arrow and body were one balanced line, poised for a target to appear. Scurrying noises came from outside the door. Small chips of wood broke away and fell inward. Dagger tips widened a small hole in the doors' center. Whatever had made the hole met its end on the long hunting point of a Mirkwood arrow.
The first death among the hoard ignited their rage. Scrambling through the disintegrating doors, creatures with round, luminous eyes snarled with joyous hatred. One Orc leapt high, vaulting over the others and eager to be among the first to attack. He was the second to die after Legolas's arrow centered on the creature's gray forehead. More orcs clamored into the room, scuttling toward the nine companions. Their squealing cries bounced off the chamber's walls.
Behind the first group of rat-like creatures, three others dragged a long chain into the room. Suddenly the final tatters of the doors burst apart, and the Fellowship got their first full look at what lived at the end of the shackles. Standing twice the height of a man, the lumbering form of a cave troll stalked into the chamber. It raised its club and sent its captors flying in all directions. Legolas held his ground and shot an arrow into the troll's shoulder. Its tough hide barely looked wounded but the beast bellowed ferociously.
The elf spun around, hunting for better position. He sprang up to a raised gallery that ran along the room's edge. Orcs swarmed to him and were executed quickly. Legolas turned back toward the room's center in time to see the troll heave its club above Gimli. The elf nocked two arrows and sent them speeding around the dwarf, into the troll's raised arm. The creature stumbled to one side, but Legolas had no time to continue defending the dwarf. More orcs ran toward him, stabbing with swords and shields.
Legolas clutched his bow in one hand and took on his foes with a white knife in the other. Body and blade became a single slashing weapon. The orcs scattered away. The elf heard a rattling noise behind him and spun around to find the troll now armed with its own fetters. The chains spun in a slow, menacing arc above the troll's head. Suddenly, the beast snapped the links down toward the elf. Legolas jumped to one side, narrowing avoiding the deadly metal. Again, the chain snapped at his heels but the elf had already jumped aside. Enraged, the troll jerked the chains back but found them curled around a stone pillar.
Legolas steadied one foot against the tangled chains. Stepping lightly, he ran up them to stand upright on the troll's head. In one smooth motion, he sheathed his knife in its scabbard and plucked an arrow from his quiver. He drew back and shot straight down.
The troll screamed and swatted at the elf, but the arrow sticking out from its head didn't end its life. Legolas jumped down to the chamber floor, easily avoiding the troll's grasp. Lurching from one side to the other, the troll staggered to the far end of the room. Legolas readied another arrow but paused to find the kill shot. More orcs surged his way before he could find the right mark. He wasted his arrow into the closest creature. The close quarters had made his bow impossible to use for much longer. Quickly he holstered it onto his back and unsheathed both knives. Moving with graceful curving motions, he swept away one orc after another, but for every one that fell dead to the floor or retreated in fear, three more appeared to ring him.
Legolas remained outwardly calm but tension was beginning to take hold of him. He knew Merry, Pippin, and Frodo were hiding behind columns near the far end of the chamber. The troll's keen sense of smell would reveal them in moments, but the elf could not get himself free to help them. Boromir, Gandalf, and Gimli were scattered about the room, trapped in small knots of orcs. Legolas heard Frodo call out, "Aragorn!" The elf whirled his knives faster. Along the periphery of his vision, he saw the ranger fly through the air and hit the stone wall. Legolas toppled the head off the orc in front of him, but two more scrambled over the body to take him on. From the far end of the room, the troll howled and there was a sharp gasping sound.
Legolas kicked the final orc off the end of his blade and turned to find Merry and Pippin leaping on top of the troll. The Hobbits stabbed down into the beast's head again and again, but their small daggers had as little effect as Legolas's arrow. The troll bucked and batted at them. Legolas switched back to his bow and steadied another shot. The troll grabbed a handful of Merry and flung the Hobbit to the floor. Hold…hold, the elf told himself. Finally, the mark appeared. His arrow drilled up through the troll's open mouth.
The troll tried to poke away the tiny weapon but its limbs refused to work. With one last lurch, it swayed back and then pitched forward to land at the elf's feet. Pippin slid along the floor, coming to rest near Merry.
Frodo's quiet voice broke the silence. "I'm alive. I'm not hurt." The rest of the Fellowship rushed over to find the Hobbit sitting upright and rubbing his chest. A long spear marked with Dwarven runes lay at his feet. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins," laughed Gimli. The Company's relief was cut short by the sounds of drum beats. They all looked toward the broken doors.
"Now!" cried Gandalf. "We must run for it! Out the far passage!" He pointed toward a narrow archway in the east wall. Light from the chamber shown into the passage only far enough to expose the top of a stairwell. A long flight of stairs fled down into utter darkness. "Quickly! Off you go, all of you, down the stairs."
Single file, the Company flew down the steps. Their way angled to the right several times with many flights of stairs in between each turn. Boromir and Aragorn led the way. Legolas kept to the rear of the Hobbits, listening closely for the sounds of Gandalf, who trailed behind. Drum-beats echoed but seemed to be fading in the distance.
An hour into their race and they had gone a mile deeper into Moria's labyrinth. The passage's walls grew more distinct. Red light glittered along the stone. Down another fifty stairs, Aragorn saw an archway ahead. Red light blazed from the hall beyond. Instinctively, he slowed to a stop in front of the arch and signaled for the others to follow him slowly.
The hall they entered looked nearly identical to the one they had found hours ago. The Company seemed to be at one end of its expanse. Between them and the distant wall, a long gash in the floor opened into red flames. Soaring pillars stretched between floor and roof.
"The Gates are near," Gandalf whispered, out of breath. "The bridge is just behind us and…"
Doom, doom. The pillars trembled. Doom, doom. The floor shook beneath their feet.
"What is this new devilry?" hissed Boromir.
The Company stared into the hall's far end. Flames licked along the highest reaches of the walls. A burning heat simmered in the air. Doom, doom.
Gandalf leaned into his staff heavily. "A Balrog," he answered.
Legolas's eyes widened in fear. Morgoth's evil is upon us!
"A demon of the ancient world," Gandalf said. "This foe is beyond any of you. Fly!"
The Company turned and sped toward the near end of the hall. In front of them, the floor vanished and a narrow stone bridge spanned a black depthless pit. Doom, doom. One by one they ran across the slender bridge, looking neither down into the chasm nor behind them to what pursued. Doom, doom. It was near. Legolas focused only the Hobbits in front of him, making sure they did not stray too close the edge. When he reached the safety of the bridge's end, he turned and saw Gandalf slow to a stop in the middle of the span. The wizard faced the far side. Doom, doom.
Moria's walls shuddered. An immense, dark figure reached the bridge. A formless blend of shadow and flame, it towered over the wizard. Monstrous wings spread out from its shapeless sides. Gandalf the Grey stood alone but faced the Balrog with fierce determination. "You cannot pass!" the wizard cried. The glow from his staff suddenly flared, lighting the bridge and the depths below. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!"
The Balrog swung at the wizard with a sword made of flame, but Gandalf shattered the fiery weapon with his own blade. The wizard's voice bellowed through the halls. "Go back to the Shadow!"
Shadow and flame rippled along the Balrog's body. Its wings spread toward the far walls. Raising one blackened claw, it cracked a whip of many thongs.
"You shall not pass!" Gandalf shouted and drove his staff into the bridge. The Balrog hesitated and then surged forward. Beneath its feet, the bridge cracked. Crumbling stone cut the narrow span in half. The blazing fires of the demon's eyes widened as it plunged backward into the chasm.
Gandalf leaned onto his staff. Bent over with exhaustion, he watched the Balrog fall for a moment more before turning to follow the others to safety. He had gone one step when black thongs whipped up from the darkness to curl around his ankle and yank him over the edge. He grasped frantically to the broken stonework. "Fly, you fools!" he cried, and was gone.
"Noooooo!" Frodo's scream echoed throughout the hall.
Legolas stood rooted with horror. He stared into the pit, disbelief written on his face. The chasm's depths had returned to a pitch black void and yet he could not turn away. An arrow clattering to his feet finally snapped him back to the present. The elf grabbed Pippin and Merry and headed for the stairs leading out. Ahead of them, Boromir ran holding Frodo to his chest. Gimli and Sam stumbled along several yards in front of the others. As Legolas reached the top, he heard Aragorn at the foot of the stairs pursued by drum-beats and arrows.
The stairs led to a wide echoing passage. On and on the Company ran until their path opened into a bright hall lit by high east-facing windows. The great Gate opened before them, and they dashed toward the sunlight. Once outside they staggered to a halt, breathless and weeping.
For the first time in days, Legolas felt the wind on his face. He slowly focused on his surroundings. Dimrill Dale lay about them, calm in the afternoon sunlight. The road leading from Moria's East-door wound a broken path ahead. His eyes followed its winding track along a distance of a mile until it met a long, oval pool. The Mirrormere. A white torrent of cascading falls fed into the north end of its waters. Next to them, the steep, crumbling steps of the Dimrill Stair marked the east end of the Redhorn Pass. This had been their destination before the cruelty of Caradhras had sent them backtracking down the mountain and through the tomb of Moria. Ten had set out from Rivendell to reach this spot. Now only eight remained to see it. The elf could only stare at it numbly.
Elrond's parting words echoed in Legolas's mind. "…yet no oath nor bond is laid on you to go further than you will." Legolas stared at the broken stairs but his mind refused to release the vision of Gandalf falling backwards into the abyss. The horror of it gripped his soul.
A light breeze carried sounds of the dwarf's anguish to the elf's ears. Pippin huddled on the ground a few yards closer, curled up at Merry's feet. Both Hobbits were crying. Legolas felt his eyes begin to sting, but he did not move.
"Legolas! Get them up." Aragorn's shout echoed across the Dale. "Come, Boromir."
Boromir began to protest but Legolas did not listen. Stiffly, the elf moved to the Hobbits and helped them to their feet. Pippin startled at the gentle hand on his arm. He turned his tear-marked face upward, but the elf looked away. Behind them, Aragorn was saying something about orcs. Nearly three centuries of training supplied Legolas with the quick assessment that all of them were beyond bowshot of Moria's gate.
Sam joined Merry and Pippin, and the three began a halting march along the winding eastward road. Legolas followed a pace behind. Pippin continued to sob quietly. As the elf watched, Merry reached over to his friend and enclosed Pippin's hand in his own. It was such a small gesture, but the elf took in a sharp breath and turned his watering eyes back toward the Dimrill Stair.
Somewhere up those steps and over the pass, Anarwen had met an unknown fate. Behind them, Gandalf had been taken by shadow and flame. Many leagues in the eastern distance, the Eye of Sauron moved in unceasing search for the Ringbearer.
Duty that had come so easily to Legolas for hundreds of years now seemed impossibly bitter. He needed no oath nor bond to know what needed to be done. He tore his eyes away from the steps.
Anarwen, forgive me.
***
Author's notes:
Whew! Another month, another chapter. You'd think it would be easier with the book and the movie supplying the details, but no. I guess it just takes me a while to put the nouns together with the verbs (not to mention the heavy straining getting to the punctuation).
Thank you again for all your kind reviews, especially those of you who found this fic recently. Replies to a couple of your comments:
Iluvien, yes you rightly point out that the concepts of life and death as they concern Elves and Men are described differently in the LoTR Appendix than here. I think Tolkein's changing ideas about the "immortality" of the Elves versus the death of Men are some of the most interesting parts of his writing. For my tale, I've drawn more from a story called "The Debate of Finrod and Andreth," which is in one Christopher Tolkein's collections of his father's works. In it, Andreth (a mortal woman) tells Finrod (an Elven King and Galadriel's brother) that "…ye know that in dying you do not leave the world, and that you may return to life. Otherwise it is with us: dying we die, and we go out to no return. Death is an uttermost end, a loss irremediable."
However, there's plenty in that piece that I have completely ignored because frankly I'm going to have to read it about 10 more times to really get it. Deep stuff. I'm just borrowing a little of it for my silly romance.
Tinstar, you questioned Gimli's and Legolas's motivation regarding Anarwen's rescue. One aspect that I didn't make explicit in that section is the influence of the Ring. For the purposes of this story, I believe the Ring corrupts all who are near it, even the most noble and strong of the Fellowship. (As Galadriel says, "One by one it will destroy them all…")
I don't believe either Gimli or Legolas would try to take the Ring, but I think that its presence clouds their reasoning. Because of it, the surest path to hurting the Fellowship (which would ultimately help the Ring's goal of getting back to its master) may seem like the right thing to do at the time. I also think Gimli is especially prone to the kind of no-one-gets-left-behind stuff that seems honorable until additional people get hurt.
With Legolas, things are even more murky because he understands so little of what he feels for Anarwen. What is clear is that in the past he has put her in danger through his own willfulness. She nearly died that time and he definitely blames himself for that even if he hasn't said so. Now he's in the Fellowship, something his father did not send him to do, and she seems to have paid a price for that decision (made under the influence of the Ring). Combine multiple layers of guilt (something I don't think he has cause to feel very often) with some deep feelings for her that he doesn't understand, and who knows what he'd do.
So, I think both of them have the best of intentions in contemplating Anarwen's rescue but their unconscious motivations are more complex and include the Ring working on their weaknesses. Of course, by the end of this chapter the loss of Gandalf shocks Legolas into doing the right thing.
For those of you who like the flashbacks, you'll see more of them in the next chapter.
That's enough out of me for now. See you in a month.