Author: Mirrordance
Title: The Plague
Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…
Part 6: "New Allies, New Enemies"
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Rivendell
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~Why do all my sons only return to me only in times of trouble?~ Lord Elrond asked flatly, looking at his untidy twin sons dispassionately, Elladan and Elrohir having just returned from another adventure.
~Estel is here?~ Elladan asked, looking side by side as if their mortal 'brother' would pop out from somewhere.
~No,~ replied Elrond, ~But he sent me some of his soldiers, who have been stricken by a plague we've not seen before. They told me about Estel's new quest.~
~I hope he is not similarly ailing,~ Elrohir commented anxiously, ~What is this new affliction? Humans can be so fragile.~
~It is unlike any other disease,~ answered Elrond, ~It is a curse put upon them by older gods from long ago. The hobbit Pippin accidentally released an imprisoned plague, that takes the hope from the heart of a man. It has already taken Rohan.~
~It doesn't sound too bad,~ Elrohir remarked.
~Humans can and have raised themselves up from the direst straits with their oft-foolish, oft-crazy passions, son,~ Elrond said, ~Through evils they can survive and rebuild. But hopelessness tears out their souls.~
~You say Estel has taken upon himself a quest?~ Elladan asked, ~To slay this plague, surely. He ought to be done with it by sundown.~
~This plague cannot be slain,~ said Elrond, ~It can only be recaptured, and it can only be encased in the box of Pandora. Nothing else can hold it. The only box they can get their hands on lies within the mines of Moria.~
Elladan winced. ~They sure know to complicate things. We have ill tidings as well, and the circumstances are beginning to make sense.~
~In our travels, we have found that there's an increase in the activity of orcs,~ Elrohir said, ~We've not seen anything like it since before the fall of Sauron. The scattered forces are coordinating. They seem to be banding themselves together. If men are afflicted by this plague and weakened by it, and with their elven allies sailing away in shiploads, then the orcs would find no more opportune moment than this to stake their claims all across Middle-Earth. It will be completely overrun.~
Elrond took a deep breath, pondering his sons' words.
~Estel had better capture that cursed curse soon,~ Elrohir concluded, his tone thoughtful as he considered coming along… Ada would not be pleased… But when did that ever stop us?
~We leave for Moria in the morning?~ Elladan asked his twin, reading the other's mind easily. Elrohir immediately nodded.
Elrond had long since given up trying to save his sons from themselves. He could only trust that he had raised them well. But he did not have to pretend to be pleased about it. He scowled shamelessly and with great indulgence.
~I bet the Prince of Mirkwood is in this adventure as well,~ Elrohir said, almost excitedly, ~This would make for another great tale, I bet.~
~Look at ada's face,~ Elladan teased his father, ~He is considering forming a club of frustrated fathers with King Thranduil.~
~A club of overburdened fathers, Elladan,~ Elrond corrected him, sighing, ~Look after each other. Be safe.~
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Rohan
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Gimli shifted uncomfortably on the horse that was given to him. The blasted elf had sent for him through an unwitting messenger, one of Aragorn's soldiers. The fool of a man did not know that dwarfs were just about as comfortable on a steed as a human was on a… on a troll (i.e. not very). But he was too proud to have to ask the soldier to share a horse, as he often did with the elf. Legolas had been gracious enough never to expressly ask him to share, letting him keep his pride.
Ride this way all the way to Moria, he thought miserably, I will have the elf's head when I see him.
But he missed his old companion more than he cared to admit, and though the road was harsh and his backside complained, he could not help but feel some excitement. The elf would be there. And the soldier-messenger said that the King Elassar was also in the company, and some hobbits, as well as the wizard Gandalf.
This stirred Gimli's blood, and the young soldier obliged him and all of his urgent questions. It was from the soldier that Gimli had heard of what the plague exactly was, that Pippin was stricken with it, and why they were returning to the mines.
Almost like old times…
Gimli glanced sideways at Faramir, lordly upon his own horse. He was young, and always so serious. More serious than his fallen brother Boromir, who had been strong in his heavier and lighter passions, mighty with heart and laughter. Faramir seemed often-burdened, and had battled himself just hours ago, loathe to leave his assigned duties in Rohan, but feeling this was a journey he had to take…
"I want to see the paths my brother walked," he had said, and Gimli could not deny him anymore than he could deny himself. Things were complicated enough as they were, but Faramir had a box of his own to close… that of the past.
And with that, Rohan had been left in good hands with Eowyn, as it always was, and with the rest of the soldiers and healers Gondor had sent her. The young soldier-messenger stayed as well, trading posts with Faramir. He was young, yes, but would not have been in the King's private guard, or sent to Rohan on his own from the Shire if he were without skill. It was enough to appease Faramir's fears, and he and Gimli set out towards Moria.
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Borders of Hollin
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A barren waste… Legolas reflected darkly, as he and the rest of the company navigated the familiar red-stoned, empty paths of Eregion, or Hollin. The last time he was here was with the fellowship of the ring, then as now, looking for the western gates of Moria.
Folk used to walk these lands, he thought miserably, now there was no one. No streaming waters, no birds, nothing of anything…
It was pathetically dead, achingly empty, completely devoid. Whoever had once been here have left, and one day, he too would make his own departure. He was struck with the fact that one day, the calling of the sea would claim him, and he would leave this Earth, and he would leave all his friends, or they would die and leave him… Either way, he did not belong with them. He did not belong here. This quest was not his. This world was not his, nor was it ever. He was uselessly complicating his life by making crazy mortal attachments that were too-fleeting, with all of their crazy mortal problems…
He was alone. And he had nothing.
"I've never seen you scowl before," Estel told him quietly, riding beside him.
"It's this place," Legolas replied dispassionately, saying naught else, finding no inclination to.
"I do not recall you looking like that the last time we were here," Aragorn said.
"That was then," the elf snapped.
--
"I'm sorry," Legolas said quickly, "I'm sorry, Estel. I can't explain it," he said again, uselessly, by way of explanation, "It's this place."
Or it's this bite…
He shook the thought away.
"Do you think Gimli will arrive before we do?" Legolas asked, shifting subjects quickly, asking a question the answer to which he already knew, his eyes begging his friend to follow his lead.
"I doubt it," Aragorn replied, taking his cue, "My soldier was quick, but it was a long way from the Shire to Rohan, and a long way still from Rohan to Moria. He should arrive by the time we have cleared up the boulders from the entrance. The foul beast from the water the last time had not been too kind to the gate."
Legolas could have smiled; it was a profound understatement. The last time they had been in Moria, a many-tentacled beast from the bleak black water near the gate tore through the cliffs, sending the entrance into a wild collapse.
They rode in silence, the hooves of their horses rhythmically slapping against what was left of an ancient highroad. Every once in awhile, they would encounter more reminders of the fallen Eregion, like weathered paving stones and remnants of old, broken walls.
They followed the path that they had taken as the fellowship of the ring-- up a slope, eventually reaching slim, level ground facing the dark, forbidding, reflection-less lake, home of the beast they had once encountered. The lake was placid before the gate of Moria and its rock-face walls, though the entrance now a shambles, blocked by a pyramid-like stack of boulders large and small.
"It did not look this bad the last time," Sam commented, eyes widening at the sight of the rocks.
"We were on the other side," Merry reminded him, "and it was darker than the darkest night of the Shire to see anything."
"Do not disturb the water," Aragorn commanded his companions, as they maneuvered through the strip of land between the still lake and the cliff walls.
"We need no reminding, Strider!" Merry said breathlessly, "I wish the beast would just sleep until it dies!"
"I would sooner cut my thumb and a leg than disturb it," Sam agreed, "A foul beast it was."
The group dismounted their horses, cautious of any part of themselves making contact with the water. Aragorn stood before the rubble, thinking of the best way to go through it.
"I do not know what magic the King could pull to solve this," Sam said under his breath to Frodo, "What do you think, Master Frodo?"
"Give him a few moments," said his friend with a wan smile, "He is never at a loss for very long. If ever."
"Legolas, your feet are the lightest," Aragorn said to the elf, "I want you to climb up to the top of the rubble," as he spoke, he measured his soldiers with his eyes, and in minutes, everyone had a place along the pyramid-like mound of stones, Legolas near the top. The elf dislodged the top-most stones and passed them down, rock by rock passed through from one soldier to another. The hobbits took over the bottom, and moved the rocks out of the way, next to the cliff wall.
For hours and hours they worked that way, until eventually they freed a man-sized hole at the top of the rubble. By this time, the sun was setting, and they called it a night.
"We can probably go inside by midmorning," Aragorn said, wiping the sweat off his brow as he and his companions settled down for the evening.
"We mean to make camp here?" Sam asked meekly, staring distrustfully at the water.
"If we do not stir it," Gandalf said, "It will not seek our trouble. The last time had cost the beast as much hurt as he had cost us. You notice, we have been here for hours without his bother."
"I hope so," Sam said, though he wrinkled his nose, somehow skeptical, "You would not take any offense, would you Gandalf, if I still couldn't close my eyes to sleep with that water by my feet?"
"Of course not," the wise wizard chuckled.
Gradually, the night's activities wound down, and most of the men settled for a tired, though uneasy sleep. At first watch, Legolas and one of the soldiers, a young officer named Jullian, sat pensively on opposite ends of the camp, senses alert to the nuances of their surroundings.
"Good night, Legolas!" Merry said to the elf, as he settled on his bedroll near Legolas's feet. Sam and Frodo had each taken a place next to Strider, whose strength was reassuring. Merry found the presence of the elf just as comfortable, so he sought him out.
"Sleep well, Merry," Legolas greeted back with a wan smile, though slightly distracted. The hobbit found this not reassuring at all.
How could anyone sleep well, Merry thought miserably, after seeing such a look on your face?
Merry was a spirited hobbit, who had a good taste for food, drink, relaxation and pleasure. Sleep should not be hard at all, and he certainly tried. But Legolas' anxious face hovered in his mind, and Merry was intelligent enough to know that one most certainly does NOT ignore the instincts of an elf.
He pushed himself up to his elbows and opened his mouth to ask, just as Legolas exclaimed, "Orcs!"
It was word enough to get everyone in the camp scrambling for their weapons, eyes narrowing and struggling to see in the dark. For a breathless moment, they moved in a lose circle with their backs to each other, their swords and arrows facing outwards, to a silence that seemed dreadfully empty.
"I hate waiting," Merry said under his breath.
Legolas' bow sang, probably twice though his movements were so swift they were barely distinguishable, until one heard the arrows meeting their marks, and the bodies falling.
From the shadows, a small group of orcs jumped towards them, reckless and wild, as fierce as ever.
Swords raised, the company fought bravely, the hobbits holding their own in battle. The protective circle held, and the orcs backed away, parried, assaulted. Their heavy steps eventually led them to the shallows of the water, to Samwise's great dismay.
"Not the water, not the water!" he was exclaiming at them uselessly as he attacked with his sword. While he sincerely believed that orcs belonged upon a monster's belly, he did have a care for the fact that once stirred, this monster of a monster would not be able to tell orc from human or orc from hobbit, and would grab him by the feet with those scaly tentacles… He fervently did not wish to be in a monster's belly, much less with an orc! What misfortune! An aberration of a misfortune!
No sooner had the threat began though, that it had dispersed. The orcs have fallen, and those who could run away fled back into the night. None of the company had been hurt, save for minor bruises, and a certainty that once again, there would be no restful sleep for them this night.
It took Sam a moment to notice that they had aid, and the most marvelous kind. Elladan and Elrohir, majestic upon their horses, was before the company, just lowering their swords and bows.
"Trouble again, Estel?" Elladan asked, his face straight though his eyes glistened.
"Yes, for you two have just arrived," Aragorn remarked coolly, though his eyes shared the same warmth.
"Don't stand too close to the water!" Merry told the twins. They were lucky the heavy footfalls of the orcs did not stir the water beast as it was; it would be mighty unfortunate if they were plagued by it now.
"Oh that," Elrohir said, "It's been dead for some time now."
Sam looked at the water skeptically, "But this water looks as bleak and forbidding as ever."
"Make no mistake, it remains a danger," Elrohir said, dismounting, "But not the kind that you fear."
"I would fear any kind, that comes from there," Frodo said good-naturedly.
"Fair enough, Frodo," Elladan said with a smile, dismounting his horse as well. He turned towards Legolas. "And how fares the Prince of Mirkwood?"
"Well," replied Legolas easily, "As always."
"King Thranduil would be pleased to here that," Elrohir commented, "He would be pleased to hear some news from you, for that matter."
"I think 'pleased' is an exaggeration," Elladan reflected, "he would be just as 'pleased' with Legolas as ada is with us."
"You mean not very," smiled Legolas.
"I mean almost not at all!" Elrohir laughed.
"I hear you are in search of Pandora's box," Elladan said to Aragorn.
"Not the original one," Aragorn told him, "but a replica, almost exactly the same. It lies within Moria."
"Moria is a large place," Elladan pointed out.
"A box so precious could only be in one place within Moria," Aragorn answered, glancing at Gandalf, "Wouldn't you say so?"
"Yes," agreed the wizard, "The treasuries of the dwarves lie in the deepest recesses of the mine. Here they have their gold, their jewels, their mithril."
"I've heard of these treasuries," Elrohir said, "They lie so deep, and are so ominous that even orcs fear to tread there."
"Exactly," said Gandalf, "Orcs have pillaged Moria for years, such that if the box were anywhere else in the mine, it has probably been looted and we may never find it. But its value is so great it could not have been placed anywhere else but the treasury and hence, away from the greedy clutches of orcs."
"And now we hope to find it," Legolas said flatly, knowing of this part of the plan just now, "In the deepest spaces of the mines. You told us the last time we were here that the treasuries were also probably submerged in water."
"That is a great likelihood, yes," said Gandalf.
Then what in the world are we still doing here? was the hopeless cry that hung in the air, at least for Legolas, who did not have the heart to voice it. To be able to show his fear, shatter his mask, break his promise, was a privilege he did not have, nor cared or dared to have.
"You say this is a replica," Elrohir said, "Perhaps our chances would be better with the original."
"If you want to search the sea," Sam said miserably.
"Well then," breathed Elladan, "The treasury of Moria is surely smaller than the sea. I like our odds. Do you like our odds, brother?"
"I don't like our odds," Elrohir said, "I love our odds."
Merry was looking at them as if they had lost their minds. Gandalf looked resigned. Aragorn looked at them wryly.
"I have the dire duty of informing you of an added complication," Elladan said to Aragorn, "Orcs are gathering. Men are at their weakest now. They think it is their time to strike, and claim your lands."
Aragorn's jaw set, fearing he had left Gondor to the mercies of those infernal beasts…
"But there is not too little of them to gather in the first place," Elrohir pointed out, "their numbers are few, compared to when they had been the servants of Sauron. If the Rohirrim could only gather their feet, I'm sure the orcs would not present a grave problem."
Aragorn called upon his soldiers, and before saying anything to them, turned to the twins quickly, "This is our task, now. We are nearest it and we must succeed. But Gondor and Rohan must not be caught unprepared, or uninformed."
"You needn't send any of your few remaining riders out," Elladan said, "Ada sent his own, to inform your people. All of us here have now this task before us, and none else."
Aragorn sent a prayer to his perceptive foster father gratefully. The members of the company were looking at him with eyes that burned with a potent mix of fear and determination. Time had caught up with them. They had to move quicker now.
"We work through the night," Aragorn said, and was met by agreeing nods, "I know how foolishly dangerous it seems, and you are all free to come and go as you please. I do not ask, or force anyone to go in there with me."
"You never have to," Frodo told him.
* * *
The company had worked through the night, and as dawn broke, they had cleared up enough of the boulders to be able to enter the mine. Their horses they had left outside the gate, guarded by two of Aragorn's men. The other two, Jullian and Aragorn's second-in-command Triste, joined the company into Moria. The west gate they had cleared would also be their exit, for they were certain coming through the eastern gate would be almost impossible and profoundly dangerous, since Gandalf the Grey had torn its bridges when the fellowship of the ring had come through Moria years before.
They decided to have breakfast after their work, basking in the warming, assuring light of the sun, before they were banished altogether to the darkness of Moria. It was at this time that Gimli and Faramir arrived, their horses cantering towards the group.
"I didn't think you would be going in without me!" the dwarf said triumphantly, jumping off his horse and landing heavily upon the ground.
"And the dwarf arrives just in time to eat," Legolas could not help but be drawn into the excited fire of his friend's eager eyes, "And when the boulder-work is already done."
"Faramir and I have been by the trees since yesterday," the dwarf joked, "And did not wish to be part of that grueling work, so we hung back."
"Clever of you," Aragorn told him with a welcoming smile, his eyes trailing towards Faramir, who looked back at him straightly.
"I wish to see the paths my brother walked, Sire. I entrusted Rohan into the best hands, I assure you," he said to his King.
Aragorn measured him for a moment, and accepted this with a nod. "His paths were wide and well-met. I do not fear that his brother would have any less strength."
"When do we go in?" Gimli asked.
TO BE CONTINUED
PREVIEW OF PART 7, "The Deeps of Moria"
The company discovers even more horrors in the legendary mine, and find the treasure they seek to be so near and yet despairingly far, as their quest nears its end.