Chapter 13: The Whisper of the Shadows

They were only in the dark for a moment before the light from Gandalf's staff illuminated the cavern once more. Toven squinted at the entrance, but it was completely blocked off by fallen rubble.

Quinn turned to him and spread her hands. "What was that, back there?"

He frowned at her. "That thing was about to kill you."

It had been a new kind of terror that had ensnared him when he'd seen her surrounded by those tentacles, ready to entangle her and pull her into the beast's mouth. He still wasn't sure how he'd gotten them both out of that in time.

Quinn put her hands on her hips. "I mean, I was about to kill it first."

He let out an exasperated sigh and turned away. This wasn't the place to lose his temper. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"We now have but one choice," Gandalf said as the Fellowship drew nearer to him, like moths to a flame. "We must face the long dark of Moria." He started walking up the stairs. "Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world."

Just what we need—more monstrosities to attack us. Scowling, Toven followed the others up the stairs. Quinn trailed behind him silently. He didn't turn back to her. It wasn't supposed to be his responsibility to look out for her.

"Careful, now," Gandalf said as they skirted a pile of skeletons. "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

Toven walked in silence while his temper cooled. Eventually, thoughts of the lake monster were replaced by more immediate worries about the bodies littered across the entrance hall.

Only their bones were left, which meant whoever had tried to take or defend this place had failed a long time ago. Any hope he'd once had for the expedition from Erebor was only a sliver, now.

He looked over at Gimli, who was walking silently near the front of the group.

"Gimli," he said, falling into step next to him. "Zûr astu?"

A smile lifted his bushy beard briefly. Water droplets still clung to the wiry hairs, and his boots squelched wetly as he walked. "I'm doing all right, lad."

He was considerate enough to reply in Westron—Toven's Khuzdul had grown rusty since he'd left Erebor, having no one to practice with.

"This place doesn't look anything like Erebor," Toven said, looking around as they passed through a rough-carven tunnel and into a larger cavern. All of it looked naturally made, nothing like the neat geometry and shining green stone of his childhood home.

"Oh, make no mistake, laddie." Gimli nudged him with the side of his axe. "Moria is the greatest kingdom in all of history. These passages here are merely roads to the West Gate—or what's left of it, now. It is on the eastern side that we will see the true majesty of Khazad-dûm."

Toven smiled. For the moment, it was easier to think of this place as merely abandoned. "I look forward to it."

"And if we reach the other side, we shall have the privilege of seeing Kheled-zâram and Durin's Stone."

His heart lightened a little, despite the gloom around them. That had been one of his favorite stories as a child—how Durin had looked down upon the lake in Azanulbizar vale and seen the reflection of seven stars, shining above his head like a crown. He'd always dreamed of gazing into that lake himself, and perhaps this would be his only chance to do it.

"We'll pass through easy enough, lad." Gimli patted him on the back, as high as he could reach. "Don't let it get your beard all in a twist."

If I had one. Toven touched his bare chin. He had been the one hoping to give some sort of reassurance to Gimli, but perhaps reassuring another had been exactly what the dwarf needed.

About an hour later, they stopped to eat and get some rest. They lit no fire, and Gandalf extinguished the glow from his staff once they all settled down.

Toven shouldn't have been bothered. He'd grown up sleeping in total darkness. But there was something about this place that unnerved him. The slightest scrape or sigh had him tensing up, and eventually he gave up trying to sleep and sat up.

He couldn't see a thing in the dark, and it took him a lot of shuffling and feeling the cave walls to make his way to the tunnel leading out of the small cavern where they'd stopped to rest. He gazed into the blackness and focused his hearing, searching for the slightest sound.

"You will have to get accustomed to the dark before we reach the other end."

Toven jumped, putting a hand over his heart, but he recognized the voice as Gandalf's. He guessed the wizard had stayed up to keep watch.

He watched as Gandalf conjured a small flame, seemingly from nowhere, and used it to light his pipe. Then all he could see was a small oval of burning embers, though the appearance of the flame had left a small, white imprint on his vision.

"It's not just the dark," Toven said lowly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "You said there would be older and fouler things than orcs lurking down here. What sort of things did you mean?"

Gandalf was silent for a long moment, and Toven frowned. Quinn had told him that the wizard rarely gave a straight answer to anything.

"Do you know what first drove the dwarves out of Khazad-dûm?" Gandalf asked.

"Durin's Bane." A chill ran down his spine. That had been one of his least favorite stories as a child. There were countless tragedies woven through the history of the dwarves, and the fall of Moria was a dark shadow in their memories. "You think it's still down here."

"No one has seen it in over a thousand years. If we are to pass through here quietly and cleverly, we may make it to the other side unnoticed."

"That's not what I asked." Toven sighed. "Do you have any idea what this thing is?"

"It is an ancient being with power far beyond any that we possess. Our only hope of survival is to pass without entering its notice."

"Sounds promising," he muttered. He pushed himself off the wall. "I suppose I should try and get some sleep, then."

"That you should," Gandalf replied.

Whatever the wizard held against Quinn, Toven still wasn't sure if that extended to him or not, as her son. But he wasn't sure he had room in his head to worry about something else, so he crept back to his bedroll and watched the darkness until his eyes finally drooped shut.

During their second day of travel, they finally reached the end of the rocky tunnels and came to a wider area. Thankfully, they'd stopped seeing as many skeletons too, which only served as a reminder to Quinn that her friends were probably dead.

She tried not to think about it as they walked into a tall cavern. This was more typical of a dwarvish cavern, with both the floor and ceiling stretching into darkness.

There were strings of unlit lanterns hanging down the walls, as well as other rickety wooden contraptions. Quinn had spent enough time in Erebor to know where they were.

"So we back in the mine," she started, but Gimli cut her off.

"Not that blasted song again! Do you have to sing that every time you're underground?"

"Sorry." She shrugged. "Being here just puts me in the mood."

"I'm beginning to think that's…what's the word you use? Racist?"

She snorted. "I'm pretty sure it's not, but point taken. I'll stop."

They passed along a narrow ledge on the side of the cavern, and the people in front of her began to slow, looking at something on the wall. Quinn squinted at the rock beside her, and could see veins of what looked like silver running through the stone.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels, but in mithril," Gandalf said from the front of the line. He extended his staff to illuminate the lower part of the cavern, and they all leaned over to look as a brilliant glow emanated from below.

The light bounced off a network of gleaming silver, turning it into a shimmer of white like the reflection of the sun on a flowing river.

"Damn," Quinn said under her breath. Between this stuff and the Arkenstone, she was pretty sure dwarves were way ahead of the game with shiny things.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," Gandalf added.

Gimli let out a nostalgic sigh. "Oh, that was a kingly gift."

"Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

"Wow," Quinn said. "Get someone who will give you a whole country as a gift." She turned to Frodo, who was walking behind her. "And how long did it take for them to get together after that?"

"Several years, if I remember correctly," Frodo said with a smile. "Bilbo likes to tell that story often."

"You know, I helped out a little with that back and forth. So in a way, you have me to thank for you existing."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Quinn, they're not my actual parents."

"Oh, right." Quinn turned around and nearly ran into Legolas. She looked over his shoulder, and realized the group had stopped.

"There's a gap in the path," Merry said.

"What do we do?" Pippin asked. "Should we turn back?"

"No," Gandalf said. "I am quite sure that this is the only cavern that is not blocked off, and we do not have the time to go searching for another path. And this gap is not a large one."

"Here." Toven took one of the ladders leaning against the wall. "We can use this to cross."

"Perhaps that'll work for you light-footed folk," Gimli muttered.

Legolas sidled to the front of the line and leapt across the gap. "It's not so far." He beckoned to the rest of them. "Come."

"Oh, yeah, if Legolas can do it, then it should be no problem for the rest of us," Quinn said.

Legolas shot her a look.

The ladder creaked slightly as Toven crossed. Once he was on solid ground, he turned to the rest of them and shrugged. "It seems like it'll hold."

Gimli harrumphed. "As if I'd doubt the craftsmanship of my own kin." He walked across the ladder, which creaked even more violently, but still held.

Gandalf followed him, leaving Merry next in line. He hesitated, peering down at the dark gap below. Aragorn stepped forward and guided him across, then did the same for Frodo and Sam.

Quinn was next, and she couldn't help the tingle that went through the soles of her feet as she looked down into the darkness. She stepped onto the ladder, and winced as it groaned under her weight.

"Do it quickly," Toven said. "The more time you spend hesitating, the more likely it is that you'll fall."

Okay. Think Assassin's Creed. Quinn held her arms out for balance, prayed she wasn't going to trip, and crossed the gap.

That left Boromir and Pippin on the other side. The latter was lingering near the back, employing the classic hobbit technique of trying to look as small as possible.

"Come." Boromir beckoned to him, taking on more of a fatherly tone. "The gap isn't as wide as it seems."

"I think I'll just stay here for now," Pippin said, forced cheer in his voice. "Don't really fancy falling to my death, you know."

Gandalf muttered something under his breath. Quinn began looking around for something more solid than a ladder that they could use.

"I'll carry you," Boromir said. "We leave no man behind. Or hobbit."

Pippin looked up at the group waiting on the other side. Quinn shot him an encouraging thumbs up. He shuffled his feet for a moment, then said, "All right, then."

Boromir scooped him up under one arm and started across the ladder. Something cracked, and Quinn's gaze dropped to the makeshift bridge, but it appeared intact.

"Get back!"

Someone grabbed the back of her breastplate and pulled her away from the edge. The rest of the group scrambled away as a section of the rock began to crumble and slide away, taking the ladder with it. Boromir tossed Pippin up and into Aragorn's waiting arms.

Quinn dropped to her stomach and just barely managed to snag Boromir's arm as he fell. She caught his full weight, and cried out as pain shot through her shoulder.

"Jesus fuck!"

Boromir grabbed onto her arm with his free hand, his boots scraping against the rock, and Quinn clenched her jaw. It felt like her arm had been pulled out of its socket. She tried to bend her elbow and get him closer to the edge, but stopped as white sparks crackled in her vision.

Legolas appeared at her side and took Boromir's other hand, pulling him onto the ledge. As soon as she could let go, Quinn sat up with a wince.

Toven knelt down beside her. "Are you all right?"

"Think I dislocated my shoulder." She poked at the area. "That's my sword arm, too."

"Here." He took hold of her elbow, put his other hand against her shoulder, and gave a sharp push.

Quinn hissed through her teeth, feeling the bone pop back into place. "Thanks." She gingerly tested the joint, then looked up at Boromir. He seemed shaken, but uninjured. "Man, I am so glad I didn't drop you."

He nodded, breathing hard. "You have…incredible pain tolerance."

"And you're heavy." She accepted Toven's hand as he helped her up.

"We should not tarry here." Gandalf waved his staff, motioning for them to move on. "We must make our way back to more solid ground."

"Yeah." Quinn glanced back at the jagged gap in the rock. "Looks like this mountain is trying to kill us, too."

Moria was beginning to remind Toven of the things he did not miss about Erebor.

At the moment, stairs were at the forefront of his mind. They were currently scaling a particularly steep set, having to use their hands at some parts to climb more easily. Even with the boundless energy he'd had as a child, Toven remembered being exhausted running up and down the tall flights that connected the levels in Erebor. He wasn't sure how anyone, never mind people of dwarvish size, had used these on a day to day basis.

After two days of travel, they'd finally reached signs of civilization. They'd passed several buildings carved out of stone, all of their windows dark and empty, and a few skeletons were littered across their path for good measure. The sight had put Toven in a dark mood.

He was glad to reach the top of the stair, where they stopped to catch their breath. Before them were three identical doorways.

Gandalf stood in front, illuminating each passage with his staff. "I have no memory of this place."

Quinn stepped up next to him, looking lively as ever. Her shoulder had healed overnight, and she'd almost kept pace with Legolas up the stairs. "You need help again? I think my sense of direction has been getting better lately."

Toven swore he saw the wizard's eye twitch.

None of them were optimistic about a swift decision on Gandalf's part, given the amount of time it had taken at the gate, so they all settled down to wait. Toven sat facing the stair, staring out into the darkness.

There was something unnerving about this place, and he was glad he wasn't traveling alone. There was no wind, no chattering animals or moving water to break the silence. All of this, the stone and the darkness, felt…dead. He wondered if Thorin's Company had felt something similar when they'd first entered Erebor.

Frodo and Sam were sitting next to him, talking quietly amongst themselves, when Frodo stopped short.

"There's something down there."

Toven turned to him. "What?"

"I saw something crawling around down there," Frodo said lowly, though his voice was taut with sudden fear.

Scanning the gloom, Toven laid a hand on his sword. A goblin scout would be manageable. But he wasn't eager to encounter something that crawled. "You have better eyes than me, Frodo. I don't see anything."

"I'm going to tell Gandalf." Frodo climbed up the rock ledge behind him and walked over to where the wizard was sitting in front of the three doorways.

Toven sighed, keeping his hand on his weapon. Whatever the thing was, at least they would have the advantage of the high ground if it attacked.

"I'm not too fond of this place, if I'm being honest," Sam said. "What with the paths that fall out from beneath your feet and the constant dark…" He gestured to the stair. "And the things crawling about."

Toven grunted his agreement. "At least we don't have to go another round with the lake monster."

This didn't seem to help Sam's mood much, and he sighed. "Poor old Bill. I wonder where he is right now."

"Who's Bill?"

"The pony," Sam said, as if this was obvious. He'd been much more attached to the animal than the rest of them. "Aragorn said he'd be able to find his way home, but it's hardly been an easy road from Bree to here."

"I think our enemy is far more concerned with us than a pony." Of course, that wasn't accounting for wolves or the other perils of the wild, but Toven elected not to mention that. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"I sure hope so. Cold as it is out there." He sighed again. "I never much liked this time of year, anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for the end of the year, you've got Yule to look forward to. But after that, it's nothing but wind and snow until spring comes 'round."

Once, when he was younger, he'd spent Yule in Bag End with Frodo and his friends. It had been similar to the winter holidays in Erebor, but with more food and less drinking. Looking back, it impressed him how hobbits could bring comfort to even the dreariest season.

"I suppose I shouldn't be complaining about the weather," Sam said. "Not to a ranger, anyway."

Toven chuckled. "Is that how you see us, then? Hunkered down in the rain and fog, living off the land and feeling generally miserable?"

Even in the dim light, he could see Sam's cheeks redden. "Well, perhaps not so…"

He shrugged. "I've done my fair share of trudging through the wilderness. Aragorn certainly likes to act like that's the only thing he's done his whole life."

Sam leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, when we first met him, he was sitting in the corner with hood up, all brooding and mysterious. I'd never seen anything like it."

Toven stifled his laughter with his fist. He'd met up with the group shortly after they'd left Bree, and he'd been more than surprised to see Aragorn with four hobbits in tow. "That does sound like him."

"Do you miss it at all?" Sam asked, his tone growing more serious. "Being back home?"

He paused. The camp that he supposed he would call home was comfortable and familiar, but he didn't feel any particular nostalgia for it. "I miss my friends. I miss knowing what to expect." He lowered his gaze. "But I suppose I've been meaning to travel the world for a while."

"Aye, I've always wanted to see what was outside the Shire." Sam leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Elves in particular. Can't say I care so much for caves or mountains, though."

"Ah," Gandalf said, and they all turned to look at him. "It's that way." He gestured to the doorway on the right.

Merry straightened with a smile. "He's remembered!"

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here." Gandalf walked towards the doorway. "If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

"Well, that's that," Sam said, accepting Toven's hand and pulling himself to his feet.

"Just one more day, if Gandalf's estimate is correct." Toven adjusted the straps of his pack. "Let's get out of these mountains, hm?"

Credit to the Dwarrow Scholar for the Khuzdul.

The song Quinn starts to sing is that Minecraft parody song, I forget the name and it's probably better for my dignity that it stays that way.

The end of this chapter is like that "images that precede unfortunate events" loll. Things are gonna get more intense next chapter, but I had a blast writing it, so I hope you'll enjoy it!