The Power of Love

By Adara

This is the final chapter of Paths of Peril. I invite you to continue on to my third book, The Power of Love, where you will find a lot of action and plot twists, plus Haldir discovers he is in love with the Princess of Rohan.

Once again, to maintain the flavor of Tolkien's original writings, I have used some of the Master's wording verbatim. Some of the words are paraphrased, and most are mine. I am not making any money off of this, so I hope the professor's heirs don't mind.

Drums in the Deep

"We now have but one choice," said Gandalf grimly. "We must face the long dark of Moria."

The members of the Fellowship walked single file behind the wizard, who was holding his staff aloft to light their way. Moria was pitch black and eerily silent. As the hours wore on, the silence, more than the darkness, began wearing on their nerves. The hobbits jumped at every little noise made by the Fellowship's passing.

"Gandalf, how long will it take to get to the other side of the mountains?" asked Merry bleakly. "I do not like this darkness. I feel as though I am suffocating."

The wizard raised his staff a little higher and the light grew brighter. "It will take us four days to pass through the mines and reach the Dimrill Gate on the other side of the Misty Mountains. I believe it is safe enough to risk a little more light," he said kindly. "Is that better, Merry?" The hobbit nodded, forgetting that the wizard was unable to see him. Gandalf looked over his shoulder and saw the diminutive creature nodding his head in the affirmative. He smiled and turned his attention to the narrow ledge that suddenly appeared before him. "This must be where the dwarves began their digging on this side of the mountains. You must all be careful, for this ledge is narrow and treacherous. One mistake and you will find yourself at the bottom of the mines. It is doubtful anyone could survive such a fall."

Gandalf placed a tentative foot upon the ledge, testing to see if it could hold his weight. Finally he was convinced that the ledge was solid and he began moving onto it. Behind him, each member of the Fellowship did likewise. A dim light emanating from far above their position showed them the remains of what must have been a busy and prosperous mining operation.

"What did your people mine here, Gimli?" Merry was trying to take his mind off the long drop below him. Talking was a hobbit's second best way of alleviating fear; eating, of course, was the first.

"Moria-silver, Master Hobbit. My people mined for the true-silver that can only be found here." For once, Gimli sounded happy.

"Mithril is its Elvish name," added Gandalf. "Its worth was 10 times that of gold, and now it is beyond price. I heard that Thorin gave Bilbo a corselet of mithril rings worth more than the entire Shire and everything in it." No one saw the surprised expression on Frodo's face. Dear old Bilbo, always looking after me. I hope that some day I will have the opportunity to repay him for his kindness.

"What happened to all the silver that was mined?" asked Pippin, looking in appreciative awe at the stripped, naked walls and the many platforms that adorned them.

"The dwarves mined too greedily and too deep, and disturbed that from which they fled, Durin's Bane. All the mithril the dwarves brought to light was taken by the orcs and given as tribute to Sauron, who covets it." Gandalf sighed deeply and continued forward in silence.

As the ledge became narrower, the dwarf and the two men found the footing increasingly difficult to maintain. More than once, Boromir lost his balance and had to slam his body against the rock face to keep from pitching over the side. He looked ahead to see how the others fared and saw that Legolas was, as usual, the only member of the Fellowship undaunted by their predicament. He was moving along as though on a stroll down the Great West Road. As he watched the Elf, a picture of Eledwhen and Haldir together in Lorien entered his mind and he felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy. Elves are so graceful and beautiful. How could she not be attracted to them? And Haldir already has earned a place in her heart. The man tried to shove the worrisome thoughts from his head and concentrate on the path before him.

"Look sharp!" Gandalf shouted from the head of the line. "There is a break in the rock here and we will have to hop over it. It is not too wide; mayhap no more than the width of two hobbits. Legolas, if you would please move to the other side and help steady us as we cross." Without a word, the Elf moved around the wizard and hopped lightly and effortlessly over the gap.

"Cheer up. It is not too far to where the path opens into a wide hallway." Having offered these words of encouragement, Legolas reached for Gandalf's arm and helped him leap over the gap in the ledge. The wizard raised his staff and remained as close to the Elf as he could without risking the safety of the others. He did not want to be in the way, but each needed to see the path to safely cross the ruined portion. Once all were across, they shuffled to the wide archway only a few feet farther.

"Do you know where we are, Gimli?" Gandalf looked questioningly at the dwarf, who was staring about him with a perplexed frown on his face.

"Nay, this place is unknown to me. I do not remember being in this part of Moria. The air here has a foul smell to it. Let us push onward as quickly as possible to the Great Halls of Khazad-dum. I still have hopes that some of my kinfolk remain in this realm, though that hope grows fainter the farther we go." Gimli became silent and fell to the rear. He wanted to think without feeling that the others were watching him.

* * * * * * * * *

Several hours later they came to a junction where three huge passageways yawned before them. All led generally eastward, but the left-hand passage plunged downward, while the right-hand passage climbed up. The middle way seemed to run on smooth and level, but it was very narrow.

"Which way do we go, Gandalf?" Pippin was looking at him hopefully; the others appeared uneasy.

"Whichever way we choose, it had best be soon," said Boromir. "We are too exposed. The enemy could come at us from any or all of these tunnels. What say you, Mithrandir? Which passage leads out of these accursed mines?"

The wizard was looking about uncertainly. "I do not remember this place at all. We shall rest here for awhile. I need time to think."

Boromir started to protest the folly of such action, but shrugged his shoulders instead. It is useless to argue with a wizard, for he will always have his way. Stifling a sigh, he walked to a large rock and sat down upon it. Frodo sank onto the rock floor and propped his back against a boulder only a few feet from the Man of Gondor. Boromir felt suddenly light-headed and heard a ringing in his ears that soon sounded like whispering. He shook his head; it felt as though hundreds of tiny mites were buzzing about inside his ears.

"Are you alright, Boromir?" Aragorn was standing next to him, a look of concern on his dirty and unshaven face. Boromir frowned to think that he must look much the same. Not exactly the way I want to look when I see Eledwhen again, he thought. Tiredly he shook his head.

"I am fine. You need not trouble yourself over my well being. See to the hobbits if you must mother someone." Although Boromir turned his back on the Ranger, he did not do so quickly enough to miss the look of hurt that crossed the other man's features. He almost turned around to apologize, but was suddenly assaulted by a wave of desire so strong he almost pitched forward. He began sweating and his breathing became ragged. His eyes sought the object of his desire and fell upon the Ring-bearer. He could feel the pull of the One; feel its power passing over his body like a lover's caress. From a few feet away, Aragorn watched him closely through narrowed eyes. His hand fell unconsciously onto his sword's pommel.

Boromir rose unsteadily, took two halting steps toward Frodo and stopped. He felt crushed between the hammer and the anvil. His chest hurt each time he drew a breath. Then, suddenly, he heard the same voice inside his head he had heard twice before. "Take it, my lord. You know you want it. Its power will grant you all you have ever desired. Power, greatness, the respect of your father… all your dreams fulfilled. All is within your grasp. Take it, take it now!" Boromir let out a loud sob and fell to his knees, arms across his chest. All but Gandalf rushed to his side.

"What is wrong? Are you in pain?" Gimli, who was clueless to Boromir's torment, assumed the man was ailing. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged knowing looks. Frodo looked just plain scared and moved closer to the Ranger.

"I am alright. Do not concern yourselves." Boromir forced the words through gritted teeth. "It is naught but a fleeting pain from an old war injury. It has almost passed. I thank you for your concern."

Aragorn felt a great sorrow wash over him as he understood for the first time the depth of Boromir's temptation. He gently touched the other man's shoulder and felt a surge of power pass up his arm. Aragorn jerked backward, for suddenly he was deafened by the sound of a thousand voices -- loud murmuring that filled his head. He stared at Boromir and saw him looking at him as though to say: "You see, it is not so easy to resist as you think." Aragorn felt like screaming. His gaze fell upon Frodo, who was staring at him, a look of terror upon his child-like face.

Must not listen to the voices, Aragorn thought furiously as he shook his head much as a dog emerging from water. Legolas' concerned voice broke the spell. "Aragorn! What is wrong?" The voices ceased.

The Ranger blinked rapidly and wiped the sweat from his brow with a sleeve. "We should not have taken this path," Aragorn said heavily. "There is death here." He turned slowly to face Gandalf, who had been observing from his perch atop a large boulder. The wizard was taking long, hard pulls on his pipe; his brow was furrowed in consternation.

"We are here now and must make the best of it. Try to sleep. I will take the watches. Frodo, why don't you sleep next to me?" Gandalf shot Aragorn a meaningful glance and cut his eyes toward Boromir. Aragorn spread his bedroll next to Boromir, who had resumed his place atop the rock. Neither said a word.

* * * * * * * *

Six hours later, Gandalf roused them all from sleep. He had spent those hours smoking and thinking. "I have made up my mind. I do not like the feel of the middle way, and I do not like the smell of the left-hand way. Therefore, we shall take the right-hand passage. It is time we climb again."

The Company spared the time to make a sparse breakfast of cold bread and cheese before moving onward. The hobbits could be heard grumbling about the choice and size of the menu. Tiring of their senseless patter, Gandalf hissed at them to be quiet and the Fellowship continued to climb in silence through the darkness of Moria, with only the wizard's light as a guide.

Boromir had been ordered to guard the rear. He knew why the wizard wanted him behind the rest of the Fellowship and truly could not blame him. The man was beginning to have doubts about his ability to control himself. The dreams that had come to him previously had been just that, dreams. This time, he had been awake when the desire to take the Ring had hit him like a blow to the mid-section. Perhaps their presence in Moria had contributed to the almost overpowering desire to snatch the One from the hobbit and escape with it down the left-hand passage. I must not let my guard down. Even were I of a mind to claim the Ring, I would not do so here in Moria. Where would I go? How would I ever find my way to the other side of the mountains, and to Eledwhen? For the first time, Denethor's son began to doubt his own sanity.

* * * * * * * * *

They had traveled as far as the hobbits could without a rest and were looking for a safe place to sleep when the walls on either side suddenly vanished. They now stood in a great cavernous space that seemed to swallow the small light bobbing at the tip of the wizard's staff. The four hobbits huddled fearfully about Gandalf's robes in the oppressive darkness.

Sensing their fear, Gandalf permitted himself a soft chuckle. "It seems I made the right choice. We have come to the more inhabitable parts of the mines and should not be far from the eastern side. I deem it is time for some real light."

Gandalf's staff seemed to catch on fire and a large flame lit the chamber about them. Each of the hobbit's mouths fell open in awe as they looked up at the vast roof far above their heads. Then they looked downward and saw many mighty pillars hewn of stone. On either side stretched a huge empty hall with black walls that were as polished and as smooth as glass. In the blaze of the wizard's fire the walls flashed and glittered. "What is this place?" Boromir asked in a hushed tone.

"This is the great realm and city of the Dwarrowdelf. It once was full of light and splendor; many of our songs remember its greatness." It was Gimli who had answered Boromir's question.

"You are not going to sing are you?" Legolas asked with just the proper amount of mock horror in his voice.

Gimli bristled. "Do you think that Elves are the only ones who can sing? Such arrogance! My folk have immortalized their deeds in song for time uncounted."

Legolas' bright laughter filled the great hall and bounced back off the walls. "I did not say that dwarves CAN not sing. I merely meant to imply that they SHOULD not sing."

Aragorn had reached his limit of endurance. Angrily he shouted, "Legolas, Gimli. Enough! I will have some peace. Both of you find a place to sleep -- preferably as far apart as possible. Sam, Frodo, take your rest near to me."

As Frodo began to drift off to sleep, he thought he saw a faint glow of light down one of the immense and very dark passages. Oddly enough, the strange light reminded him of a pair of eyes. "It is Gollum. He has been following us since we entered Moria." Aragorn spoke in a soft whisper pitched for Frodo's ears alone. Frodo shuddered and returned his gaze to where he had seen the eyes. Only darkness returned his stare.

* * * * * * * * *

What remained of the Fellowship was scattered about the Dimrill Dale. The shadow of the Misty Mountains covered them, as though aware of the despair each member suffered. Aragorn had been right; there was death in the mines, for Gandalf had fallen while fighting the Balrog.

They all had nearly been lost when an assortment of orcs, black Uruks of Mordor and one very large cave troll had cornered them in the Chamber of Records. The entire Company fought bravely and effectively, including the hobbits, but Frodo had been speared in the side by a huge orc-chieftain. Although all had escaped, and Frodo had miraculously not been killed, the drumbeats had throbbed and rolled doom doom as they had run to the bridge and their last hope of escape. It was on that narrow span that Gandalf had faced the hideously evil Balrog and fallen to his death.

Aragorn turned to look back at the Great Gates of Moria. He hated it when he was right, but the wizard had known the risk and accepted it, just as he, too, must accept that the mission of the Fellowship was now his responsibility. Sighing, Aragorn studied each of the seven remaining members. Only Boromir appeared not to grieve. He was standing protectively near Pippin and Merry, but not a tear had he shed. (Perhaps because he was entirely Denethor's son and the Steward of Gondor was none too fond of wizards.) The others were weeping copiously, even as he was.

Finally, the Ranger found his voice. "We must depart immediately. Even though it is just past noon, we have relatively few hours to put as much distance between ourselves and the shadow of Moria. Come nightfall, we will be hunted." When no one paid any heed to his advice, Aragorn hardened his tone and ordered Boromir to start the two youngest hobbits on the road to Lothlorien. A smile crossed the man's face as he realized how near he was to Eledwhen. He was almost cheerful as he pulled Pippin and Merry to their feet and shooed them on their way.

"What's he so bloody happy about?" demanded Gimli. "We have lost a very old and dear friend, and he looks as though he is on holiday!"

Aragorn leaned over the dwarf and said quietly, "Soon he shall see one he loves dearly, and who is seriously ill. Speak no cross words within his hearing unless you wish to feel the bite of his sword."

Gimli dashed away his tears with the back of a gloved hand and tightly gripped the shaft of his axe. "Never let it be said that a dwarf is insensitive to the feelings of others." Legolas stared at him with eyebrows raised and started to speak. A look from Aragorn froze the words on his tongue. Silently the Elf turned toward the Golden Wood.

* * * * * * * * *

Please continue on to my next installment of the Boromir/Eledwhen love story, The Power of Love. When the Fellowship reaches Lorien, the Man of Gondor learns the fate of his unborn son. Thank you for reading my fic, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.