Pippin's First Battle
I stand with my cousins and Sam, sword drawn and held defiantly in my shaking hand, as the drums and shrieks and whistling arrows draw ever closer. Boromir and Legolas have barred the door, wedging it shut with axes, and they and Aragorn stand ranged in a line in front of Balin's tomb, waiting for the Orcs to reach us. Gimli stands on his cousin's tomb, brandishing his axe. Even Gandalf has his sword drawn.
I've been uneasy ever since we came into Moria; it's cold and it's dark, and it's full of skeletons, and I keep thinking someone's watching me. By the time we came in here, and saw Gimli the gruff breaking down in front of his cousin's tomb, I was thoroughly unnerved. So when Gandalf gave me his hat and staff so that he could pick up the book that one of the skeletons was holding, and began to read the last words those poor dwarves ever wrote, I found myself backing away. I don't really know why. I backed up until I found myself standing by a well, with a skeleton sitting on the edge and a bucket and chain by its side. I was really scared by then, so I did what I always do when I'm nervous. I tried to distract myself. I couldn't help myself really, I just wanted to see what it felt like, the Orc's arrow wedged between the skeleton's ribs. But as soon as I touched it, the skull tilted backwards and fell off, down the well, and the rest of the body followed it, clattering and crashing down and down and down. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the bucket went after it. I thought the noise would never end. Gandalf had been so adamant that we were to make as little sound as possible, and hopefully we'd get through the mines without anything noticing us. Trust me to mess it up. Gandalf shouted at me, told me to throw myself in next time, and I nearly did. I wanted to sink into the floor. Everybody was looking at me, all disappointed and angry, but somehow not completely surprised that it was me who'd done such a stupid thing. Gandalf snatched back his hat and staff, and that's when the drums started. Slow at first, but faster and faster, louder and louder. They had heard us.
And now the Orcs have come for us, and they're starting to batter down the door. As soon as they make a hole in the door, Legolas has shot an arrow through it, and the squeal of the Orc echoes in the room. Aragorn shoots next, then Legolas again, shooting, shooting, and all the time the Orcs are breaking the door down. And then suddenly the door is broken, and the Orcs break in, rushing forward. Legolas keeps shooting, trying to hold them back, but Aragorn draws his sword and joins Boromir and Gandalf, slashing at any Orc stupid enough to come near them. Frodo's sword is glowing bright blue, almost enough to see by in the dark, I think to myself. Funny what you think of when you're absolutely terrified. I've never been in battle before; I've barely even held a sword, except when we were practicing with Boromir on the road. But there's no time to worry about that now, because the Orcs are upon us, and we're having to fight for our lives. With a yell, I launch myself at the nearest one, hacking and slashing, and to my amazement, it falls down. My size seems to be an advantage; I can dash in under their reach and slash them before they know what's happened. I'm too busy fighting for my life to be horrified that I'm actually killing living creatures, for the first time in my life; I expect it'll hit me later.
And then there is a roar, and a crash as the doorway is broken, and in lumbers an enormous creature, a broken chain around its neck, its skin grey and a huge club in its paw. Through my terror I remember enough of Bilbo's stories to realise that this is a troll; yes, I remember Boromir saying something about a cave troll. No sunlight here to turn it to stone. We'll just have to fight it.
Legolas shoots an arrow into its chest but it doesn't even flinch. It crashes the club downwards, trying to hit any of us, trying to hit Sam, but he's too quick for it, he dives between its legs, safe for a moment, but the troll turns and chases him, raises its foot to stamp on him as he lies on the ground. Aragorn and Boromir grab onto its chain and pull it away; it turns round and swipes its club, then swings the chain, with Boromir still on the end of it. He goes flying through the air and crashes into the wall. An Orc nearly gets him, but Aragorn flings a knife at it, just in time, but there's no time to be relieved, no time at all with Orcs everywhere I look and the troll already looking for another target.
Merry and Frodo and I make a run for a pillar as Gimli throws one of his axes at the troll, and it smashes its club down onto Balin's tomb, trying to hit our Dwarf, but he rolls away. The troll is really furious now, it's swiping about with the club, smacking Orcs out of the way. A couple less for us to worry about, at least it wasn't any of us. It's about to go for Gimli when Legolas, who has leapt up onto the wide ledge at the side of the room, I notice, fits a pair of arrows to his bow and shoots the thing. It stumbles backwards in pain this time, dropping its club, but it's still got its chain, and now its target is Legolas. He's twisting and turning, killing Orcs in every direction, and now he has to dodge the troll as well. It's lucky he's an Elf, I find myself thinking, watching nervously from behind the pillar. Nobody else would be able to dodge so quickly as the troll swings the chain at him, once, twice, three times. Every time it misses, and it's getting more and more angry. It tries again, but this time the chain gets caught in a pillar, and Legolas jumps onto it and runs up to the troll's shoulders, as easily as crossing a bridge. He holds his balance as the thing tries to shake him off; my heart's in my mouth, but he just fits an arrow to his bow, takes his aim and fires straight down into the troll's neck, then jumps easily off its back as it bucks again. I let out a sigh of relief that he is safe and look around to see how everyone else is doing.
I spot Sam laying about him with his frying pan, and a hysterical laugh threatens to make its way out of my mouth. Poor Sam, he's definitely more at home with his cooking gear than a sword. But then there's no more time for laughing, no more time for anything, because that horrible creature has spotted me and my cousins, it's got its club again and it's raising it up. We stare at it for a moment, unable to move, and then we spring apart, me and Merry to one side, Frodo to the other, just as the club crashes down, breaking the stones we stand on and separating us from Frodo. Merry and I can only watch as the troll tries to catch Frodo, tries to get round the pillar he's hiding behind, and then he's cornered, pressed up against the wall, and the troll has got him, no, no! Frodo is shouting for Aragorn, and he comes running, armed with a huge spear, and Frodo slashes at the troll with Sting, and it drops him and turns on Strider. Strider spears it, and it drops its club again. There's nothing me and Merry can do but stay out of the way and hurl rocks at it, our tiny swords won't make much of an impression on troll hide. It isn't really working, but it makes me feel better.
Then the troll flings Strider back against the wall and he lands on the floor, looking horribly broken. Frodo screams his name and runs for him, but the troll has pulled the spear out of its chest and it's jabbing at Frodo as he dodges, jab, jab, and this time it connects, and the troll rams the spear into Frodo's chest. My cousin goes down. NO! Not Frodo! Merry and me, we glance at each other, no need for words as we launch ourselves onto the troll's back, screaming vengeance and hacking at the thing with a strength born of desperation.
The troll is reaching up, batting at us, trying to get us off, but that just makes us stab more furiously. But then it manages to grasp Merry, wrenches him screaming off its back and flings him to the floor. No, no, not Merry as well! Not Merry! Now I am avenging both my cousins, and I batter at the troll's head with my little sword, tears streaming down my face. The wretched thing won't die, it won't die, and any minute now it's going to throw me off and it's all my fault, all my fault.
I glance up then, and through my tears I see Legolas, the only bright thing in this horrible, cursed place, standing as calmly as if he was just practising, an arrow to his bow. He takes aim, carefully, and I'm horrified to see that he is aiming straight at me. The troll bucks again, and now he is aiming at its head. That's better. I hope and pray that his aim is as good as ever, that he gets the troll and not me (although what would it matter, with Frodo and Merry gone, and it all being because of my stupidity?). He releases the arrow and it sings through the air as the troll raises its head. Legolas' aim is true, thank goodness, thank goodness, the arrow flies straight into the monster's neck, below its chin, and I have to look twice before I can believe that the point of the arrow is sticking out of the back of the troll's neck just in front of my feet.
The troll sways, staggers, confused I think, not sure quite what has happened. And then it falls, and as it goes I find myself being thrown through the air. My last conscious thought, before I hit the ground, is that Legolas has saved my life. I hope I get the chance to thank him for it.
