Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth
Chapter Five: Minor Follies
by Galadriel Tolkien
The dust settled in the darkness around us, then Gandalf's staff slowly began glowing again. I realised he'd set a crystal in the top and wondered if witchlights would work. Experimentally, I held out my flattened palm and called light. A tiny silver ball popped into existence. I tossed it in the air and it stayed when it hit the apex of the toss. "Cool."
Gandalf was staring at me, as were the others. I shrugged, "I didn't know I could do that." I heard a squelching sound as Boromir shifted, and blinked. "However, I do know I can dry clothes. So, if you gentlemen will give me a moment of your time..."
For a moment, they looked at me, then Aragorn shrugged and stepped towards me. "Do your worst."
"I'll do my best." I closed my eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was wet and cold, the skin underneath it shivering slightly. It would be a bad idea for the two of them to continue in this way. Cold and shivering swordsmen tend to have bad reflexes.
It took a moment, and then the shoulder was dry, normal skin heat filtering through the clothing. I released Aragorn and grabbed onto Boromir, performing the same trick. "There."
Gandalf was watching me again, his eyes surprised. I grabbed a ball of witchlight and 'handed' it to Sam, "Here. I'll take rear guard."
We set out, Gandalf leading the way with the top of his staff alight with silver. The others followed, Sam next to Frodo and Aragorn behind them. Boromir and Gimli and Legolas, next. Merry and Pippin were in front of me, Pippin occasionally looking back at me. I caught an oddness in them all and realised sadly that they were all a bit frightened of me now. I hadn't even done anything particularly scary, either.
It wasn't like I had raised the dead, or brought down a mountain, or, Gods forbid, destroyed a city. Maybe I was just an unknown. I realised I didn't want them thinking badly of me, and blinked.
I should have been used to it, but I wasn't. Even after all these centuries, I just wanted to get along with everyone and not be feared. It was why I'd never tried to be anything other than human. It was damned hard, sometimes. I was insanely powerful. And I couldn't let myself reach that potential or I'd go insane. Or just be left alone as people left me.
The dead left me, too. I shivered in the darkness of Moria and wondered at my morbid thoughts. I had Alayna, I should be happy. Except I missed her, off in her happy grasslands for the time being. I sighed and realised I was beginning to lag behind.
Something behind me chuckled to itself in the darkness, and I whirled, eyes searching for that scrabbling noise. Whatever it was had already hidden by the time my eyes crossed its path, and I sighed.
I was really getting stupid. Jumping at shadows and feeling depressed over nothing.
With a snort, I turned and jogged after the others, catching up with Pippin quickly. He glanced at me and grinned. I smiled back.
--
It had been two days since we had entered the long darkness of Moria. Gandalf had predicted four days, but I was betting it would be less. The close dark was taking its toll on the others, and I frequently caught the hobbits (especially) looking into the lightless corners of the tunnels with terror in their hearts. I did my best to hearten them with pats on the back and my wordless reassurance as rear-guard. Even the witch lights didn't help, and the second night I had sent them dancing around our small bivouac. The changing colours and speed hadn't done more than caused a slight Oooh and Aaah.
But we continued through Moria, since the only way out was through.
We entered a hall, the sound of our footsteps echoing into some vast area above us, and Gandalf allowed as that it might be safe for a little more light.
As the luminescence strengthened, I began to get a better feel for the size of Moria, and this hall that we stood in. It was vast, the ceiling that felt almost a mile above my head, and as I finally could see the fashion of the carvings around us, I was amazed. Massive stone pillars were carved in intricate designs that bespoke of beauty and grace. It echoed the lightness I had seen in Rivendell, but made it thicker, yet it was just as lovely.
"Wow." I turned in a slow circle, looking around myself in wonder as the others did likewise. A tear slid down my cheek. Such majesty and magnificence, forever ruined by darkness. I moved and sank down on one knee in front of Gimli. "I have an apology to make, my friend. I did not know that your people could make things so beautiful."
He chuckled, "They wrought much did my brethren of old. Moria was just one of them. O! For the lost wisdom of the Darrow-delf!"
"If it should come back, it will be you that finds it."
"You are sweet with your compliments, Lady." But I could see I had moved him.
I smiled, "I tell only what I see, sir. And you are intelligent and a lover of wonder. Both of those are the cornerstones of learning such vast arts."
Aragorn stood next to us, and now he looked down at me, his eyes dark, "They should call you Lady Glib."
"They have, once in a while." I stood, my smile still in place.
"Oi!" Gimli glared at the man. "You have sullied the honour of the Lady."
"Nay Gimli, he does not tell me anything I haven't heard before." I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry, my friend, all will come right in the end."
As he moved away, I turned to Aragorn. I was suddenly tired, exhausted at keeping the lure of the Ring from whispering in the minds of the company. "You still do not trust me. It is as you should, but I tire of it, my dear."
"You come from nowhere you will say, how shall I not distrust you?"
"Don't they say actions speak louder than words?" I shook my head and sighed, "You would never believe me were I to tell you my origins. Instead, I leave you in shadow and suspicion. For I suspect Gandalf wishes to move off again."
And I left him to return to my place at the back of the company.
--
Later that day, or night. At this point, it was hard to tell what it was like outside. We found a room, light pouring in from a high window. OK. It was day.
The light illuminated the cover of a large stone sarcophagus, and Gimli broke from the Company, crying in horror. We followed him, curious to know what was to do. And worried that his cries might attract attention, I wove a quick soundproofing spell on the door as I walked through it. Now all sounds in the room would stay there and not echo out into the Great Hall, or beyond.
We spread out into the small room, Gimli prostrating himself on the sarcophagus. Gandalf found a book and began reading from its pages. They fell apart as he moved them, and I wondered what knowledge might once have been contained there. The tomb belonged to Balin son of Dalin, Gimli's cousin. They had fought to the last, barred in this room as they listened to drums sounding in the deep. I looked away to the window.
It was Pippin who I should have been watching, however. For he tipped a skeletal body down the well in the corner, and the sound echoed for what seemed like hours.
"Fool of a Took! Next time send yourself down there and save us all a lot of bother."
We relaxed as nothing happened. And then it came. A deep booming noise, as if far away drums were beaten in signal.
The drumming died away and others answered, deep sounds which penetrated into our very bones as they echoed through the room. I turned to the door and ripped the soundproofing spell off of it.
More drumming came from the great hall and I swore softly. Frodo caught my arm and held out his sword. It was glowing blue. "Bilbo said it would do that if orcs were around."
I nodded. "Thanks, lad."
"We're trapped."
"Shut up." I snapped at Boromir.
"Let them come!" Gimli roared, "There is still one dwarf in Moria alive to oppose them!" He jumped atop the sarcophagus, axes at the ready.
I grinned, then pulled my sword, following Gandalf and Boromir in putting ourselves between the hobbits and the doorway. Boromir stuck his head out the opening and nearly got it shot for his pains. "Oh, great. They've got a cave troll!"
"Bar the doors!" Aragorn cried, and he moved to fit action to word, shoving one side of the double doors closed. Boromir closed the other, and I sheathed my sword to toss them long pieces of wood to wedge it closed with. There had once been a bar, it had shattered when the orcs overran the room the last time. This time, ax shafts held it together.
Outside, I could hear them coming, as if a crowd of metal fans were beating guitars against rock, the din nearly deafening.
As we finished, the first orc hit the door and we backed away hastily into a loose formation. Boromir and Gandalf were on the right, their swords out and steady. Aragorn and Legolas stood between them and me, arrows nocked and bows held steady. Behind us, the hobbits held their own swords, awaiting the deadly assault with fear in their minds. I tossed two more witchballs into the air, knowing we'd need all the light we could get.
With speed, the orcs broke through in two places, and well-placed bowshot killed several before the barrier disintegrated. And the ferocity of the orcs rushed in intent on our deaths.
I lost track of the others almost immediately as I swung into the first orc-neck, severing the head from its shoulders. Another was behind it, and another behind it. Parry, thrust, hack, slash. I threw knives and punches. One knocked me down and I rolled, picking up an ax-shaft, slamming it up into his breastplate and out the back.
A whirlwind of death and destruction, I kept my weapons on the physical plain, keeping any magic in reserve for bigger things.
In my bloodlust, I danced right out of the room and into the open, where I continued, ending at one point surrounded by nearly twenty orcs. I danced and lashed, kicked and bit. And then something slammed into my side, something so huge I had no chance to avoid it and went flying into a pillar, my head hitting with a sickening crack.
Stars danced in my vision as I had danced upon the field of battle, and then I knew no more.
--
My head hurt. It ached as if I'd been beaten bloody and then rolled down a huge rocky slope to land in a river of blood. Of course, the last hadn't happened. Movement echoed in the tunnels all around me, and I woke completely with a growl.
The orc carrying me growled back.
Idiots. My hands were untied, and the only thing missing from my person was my sword.
With a fumbling movement, I slid a knife into the back of my carrier. I did my best to fall away from his body as it fell, and I did pretty good, ending up on my feet with a knife in each hand and twenty orcs all staring at me in shock.
They all had swords, too.
"Can't we talk about this?"
They snarled, baring teeth in bad need of a dentist at me.
"Are you sure, because, there's going to be violence. And bloodshed. And, y'know, pain. Lot's of it. And it isn't going to be mine."
One of them stepped towards me, growling.
"Guess not."
I fight really dirty when cornered. Especially when I don't have to worry about hitting my own comrades with anything. Thrown knives, knees in the crotch, fingers in eyeballs... Oh, yeah, and huge concussive fireballs.
Gotta love being a mage.
Within a minute I was jogging back towards the others, my senses homing in on the traces I detected from the witchlights. I found my sword a couple feet from the door of Balin's Tomb (as I was calling it), and picked it up, checking it for any damage.
As there was none, I continued on into the chamber, and got an arrow in the shoulder. "FUCK!" I glared at Legolas, who was looking abashed. "Dammit, I'm on your side, you idiot." I pulled the quarrel from my shoulder and glared at the hole in my shirt. "And I'm going to get a bruise, too."
I was whining and I knew it. But my head still hurt--more so, since I'd used so much flagrant magic. And the orcs would be back once they got over their shock. It was about then that I noticed the body of the cave troll. Merry lay next to it, and I swore again before dropping to my knees at his side.
A quick healing probe proved him alive and well, save a few cracked ribs. I immediately set them to reknitting properly, and stood up again. "Who else is hurt?"
"Frodo." Aragorn was kneeling at the hobbit's side, worry in his face.
I moved to kneel next to him, readying another probe, "What happened?"
"This happened," Pippin said, holding up a huge boar-spear.
I winced and started to reach out to Frodo, when he awoke gasping. "Are you all right?"
He winced and sat up, "I think so."
"But how can this be?" Aragorn demanded, "That blow would have killed a wild boar."
Frodo carefully pulled back his shirt, revealing something shiny. I blinked, sensing that the stuff was familiar, but not why.
"Mithril!" Gimli cried, "This hobbit has more to him than meets the eye!"
"Aye. Good for him, too." Aragorn replied, helping Frodo stand.
The hair on the back of my neck began twitching, and I stood, sword out. "We should leave, they're regrouping."
While the others regathered themselves, I grabbed several orc-knives from those littered about. I'd lost several of my own, and until I could get more made, these would have to do. I sighed as I cleaned them and sheathed them in various places.
"To the bridge we must go," Gandalf said. "It must be a quick journey. Follow me!"
He sprang through the doorway, Boromir close behind him and Legolas behind the Gondorman. Gimli and the hobbits came next, then Aragorn and I brought up the rear. I tossed another ball of witchlight up to join the three already there.
I could hear them coming as we ran, teeth and claws ticking along the stone as they swarmed out of every nook and cranny, gathering us within a circle halfway to freedom. We circled ourselves, the hobbits in the middle.
Closer and closer the orcs crept, and I pondered the advisability of a massive fireball. With the height of the ceiling, it might even get hot enough to melt the rock under their very feet.
Before I could start work on that, something far down by Balin's Tomb boomed. The sound echoed into the floor, shivering up my legs and into my mind. I gasped at the evil that seemed to just *seep* into everything around us as the sound came again.
The orcs gave a frightened sound and scattered back into hiding, leaving us standing in a pool of light with something beginning to drift towards us. I couldn't see anything but a dim reddish light, but my mind tried not to deal with the feeling that came from it. Like slippery glass shards all covered in oil and worse things, I felt almost unclean for merely being under the same mountain with it.
And I wondered why I hadn't sensed it before.
"Y'know," I said conversationally, "when orcs run from something, it might be a good idea to follow their example." I resheathed my sword with a soft chime.
"What new deviltry is this?" Boromir asked softly.
"'Tis a Balrog. And it's beyond any of your ken." Gandalf was staring at the approaching light, his face drawn, "We should run. Now! To the bridge of Khazaad-dum!"
We ran.
The hall passed around us, the giant pillars illuminated, then falling behind as we zipped by. Behind us, I could sense the whatever-it-was beginning to pick up speed, and I decided I didn't want it following us if I could help it. In this case the 'enemy of my enemy' was NOT my friend.
We hit a small opening, and Gandalf led us into it. I caught Aragorn's arm, "Go on, I'll follow in a moment!"
I turned without waiting for an answer and raised my arms, beginning to spin a physical shield over the opening. It would keep anything from coming through for a while, hopefully. It depended on how strong this thing was, and whether it was smart enough to figure out that it could go around the shield. Well, if it could break stone we might be screwed.
Once finished, I ran on, tracing my witchlights through several passages and out onto a ledge. To my left, the wall fell out into the deep pit below me. To my right, a small stairway led downwards. I took it, my feet skipping every other step as I hastened after my companions.
The shield had taken more time than I'd thought it would, and as I neared the witchlights, I realised that the creature was causing an instability in the ceiling above us. Huge chunks of masonry were falling, some had already destroyed a small patch of the stairs, and I jumped across, to find that it turned sharply to my left.
This section spanned the whole chasm, and I gulped as I realised that there was barely any of it left. Beyond the chasm, I saw the others looking at me, worried.
Behind me, I felt the shield shatter as the whatever it was blasted it with dark magic. "Oh, flonq."
I stepped back to the wall, gauging the distance. I would make it. Maybe. With a shrug, I ran forward, trying to build up speed in five steps. And then I jumped, flattening my body out and arcing up and over the huge gap. I was lucky the other end was below the upper.
"Oof." I scrabbled at the stone, trying not to fall back into the pit, and felt hands grabbing me, pulling me to my feet.
"This way!"
As we sped into another archway, I sensed the evil following us, gaining. Gandalf joined me at the rear, looking worriedly over his shoulder.
"What is it?"
"The Balrog."
I had no clue what that was, really. Other than something very very nasty which I didn't want to face. And I didn't want to take the time to ask. Behind us the gap closed and I sensed that we would barely make it. If we were lucky. Ahead of us, the way opened out into a huge chasm, deeper than the last one, and wider.
The bridge that spanned it was a thin tooth of stone, barely wide enough for one person to cross. Without stopping, they began to cross it, and Gandalf pushed me ahead of him onto it. No time to look down, no time to worry about falling into that deep darkness, I ran, my feet finding the way without prompting.
I turned as I reached the other side. Gandalf had stopped in the centre of the bridge and turned to face the Balrog as it broke through the last archway and stood up to its full height above him. It was fire and darkness and evil, all wrapped in a huge monstrosity that might once have been something good. But I doubted it.
As I watched, it raised a huge lance of fire, preparing to smash down on Gandalf. The wizard raised his staff and Glamdring, and cried, "You shall not pass!" A dome of white power appeared around him, shining into the darkness like a beacon of hope.
The lance shattered on the dome, both dissipating into the ether around us. I thought about helping him, but knew this was his task, his job.
Besides, saving everyone's asses wasn't my job this time. This was a Quest, and I merely a player in it, there to keep people from dying and move things along... But I was not the one who would win in the end, and I suddenly wondered who would.
With a crack Gandalf's staff broke the stone bridge in front of him, and the Balrog's weight sent it slowly falling down into the darkness, vanquished for now.
For a moment the white wizard watched his nemesis fall into darkness, then he turned to us. A lick of flame lashed up and wrapped around Gandalf's ankle, pulling him backwards into the pit. I think all of us screamed in horror, and I started back towards the bridge, but Boromir caught me. My elbow slammed into his ribs, and I shook him off, running onto the bridge, desperate to reach Gandalf before he fell completely into the darkness.
As I ran, I sensed arrows beginning to fly around me. The orcs had come out of hiding in force, and I dodged, throwing myself flat on the bridge, fingers inches from Gandalf's. He stared at me, shock in his eyes as I closed my hand on his wrist.
"You should fly!"
"Not without you!" I screamed, angry suddenly.
I shouldn't have waited. I really shouldn't have.
The Balrog's very presence destabilised stone, and I should have remembered that. For as I lay there, holding Gandalf from the brink, straining to break the creature's hold on him, the roof fell on me.
--
Chapter Five: Minor Follies
by Galadriel Tolkien
The dust settled in the darkness around us, then Gandalf's staff slowly began glowing again. I realised he'd set a crystal in the top and wondered if witchlights would work. Experimentally, I held out my flattened palm and called light. A tiny silver ball popped into existence. I tossed it in the air and it stayed when it hit the apex of the toss. "Cool."
Gandalf was staring at me, as were the others. I shrugged, "I didn't know I could do that." I heard a squelching sound as Boromir shifted, and blinked. "However, I do know I can dry clothes. So, if you gentlemen will give me a moment of your time..."
For a moment, they looked at me, then Aragorn shrugged and stepped towards me. "Do your worst."
"I'll do my best." I closed my eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was wet and cold, the skin underneath it shivering slightly. It would be a bad idea for the two of them to continue in this way. Cold and shivering swordsmen tend to have bad reflexes.
It took a moment, and then the shoulder was dry, normal skin heat filtering through the clothing. I released Aragorn and grabbed onto Boromir, performing the same trick. "There."
Gandalf was watching me again, his eyes surprised. I grabbed a ball of witchlight and 'handed' it to Sam, "Here. I'll take rear guard."
We set out, Gandalf leading the way with the top of his staff alight with silver. The others followed, Sam next to Frodo and Aragorn behind them. Boromir and Gimli and Legolas, next. Merry and Pippin were in front of me, Pippin occasionally looking back at me. I caught an oddness in them all and realised sadly that they were all a bit frightened of me now. I hadn't even done anything particularly scary, either.
It wasn't like I had raised the dead, or brought down a mountain, or, Gods forbid, destroyed a city. Maybe I was just an unknown. I realised I didn't want them thinking badly of me, and blinked.
I should have been used to it, but I wasn't. Even after all these centuries, I just wanted to get along with everyone and not be feared. It was why I'd never tried to be anything other than human. It was damned hard, sometimes. I was insanely powerful. And I couldn't let myself reach that potential or I'd go insane. Or just be left alone as people left me.
The dead left me, too. I shivered in the darkness of Moria and wondered at my morbid thoughts. I had Alayna, I should be happy. Except I missed her, off in her happy grasslands for the time being. I sighed and realised I was beginning to lag behind.
Something behind me chuckled to itself in the darkness, and I whirled, eyes searching for that scrabbling noise. Whatever it was had already hidden by the time my eyes crossed its path, and I sighed.
I was really getting stupid. Jumping at shadows and feeling depressed over nothing.
With a snort, I turned and jogged after the others, catching up with Pippin quickly. He glanced at me and grinned. I smiled back.
--
It had been two days since we had entered the long darkness of Moria. Gandalf had predicted four days, but I was betting it would be less. The close dark was taking its toll on the others, and I frequently caught the hobbits (especially) looking into the lightless corners of the tunnels with terror in their hearts. I did my best to hearten them with pats on the back and my wordless reassurance as rear-guard. Even the witch lights didn't help, and the second night I had sent them dancing around our small bivouac. The changing colours and speed hadn't done more than caused a slight Oooh and Aaah.
But we continued through Moria, since the only way out was through.
We entered a hall, the sound of our footsteps echoing into some vast area above us, and Gandalf allowed as that it might be safe for a little more light.
As the luminescence strengthened, I began to get a better feel for the size of Moria, and this hall that we stood in. It was vast, the ceiling that felt almost a mile above my head, and as I finally could see the fashion of the carvings around us, I was amazed. Massive stone pillars were carved in intricate designs that bespoke of beauty and grace. It echoed the lightness I had seen in Rivendell, but made it thicker, yet it was just as lovely.
"Wow." I turned in a slow circle, looking around myself in wonder as the others did likewise. A tear slid down my cheek. Such majesty and magnificence, forever ruined by darkness. I moved and sank down on one knee in front of Gimli. "I have an apology to make, my friend. I did not know that your people could make things so beautiful."
He chuckled, "They wrought much did my brethren of old. Moria was just one of them. O! For the lost wisdom of the Darrow-delf!"
"If it should come back, it will be you that finds it."
"You are sweet with your compliments, Lady." But I could see I had moved him.
I smiled, "I tell only what I see, sir. And you are intelligent and a lover of wonder. Both of those are the cornerstones of learning such vast arts."
Aragorn stood next to us, and now he looked down at me, his eyes dark, "They should call you Lady Glib."
"They have, once in a while." I stood, my smile still in place.
"Oi!" Gimli glared at the man. "You have sullied the honour of the Lady."
"Nay Gimli, he does not tell me anything I haven't heard before." I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry, my friend, all will come right in the end."
As he moved away, I turned to Aragorn. I was suddenly tired, exhausted at keeping the lure of the Ring from whispering in the minds of the company. "You still do not trust me. It is as you should, but I tire of it, my dear."
"You come from nowhere you will say, how shall I not distrust you?"
"Don't they say actions speak louder than words?" I shook my head and sighed, "You would never believe me were I to tell you my origins. Instead, I leave you in shadow and suspicion. For I suspect Gandalf wishes to move off again."
And I left him to return to my place at the back of the company.
--
Later that day, or night. At this point, it was hard to tell what it was like outside. We found a room, light pouring in from a high window. OK. It was day.
The light illuminated the cover of a large stone sarcophagus, and Gimli broke from the Company, crying in horror. We followed him, curious to know what was to do. And worried that his cries might attract attention, I wove a quick soundproofing spell on the door as I walked through it. Now all sounds in the room would stay there and not echo out into the Great Hall, or beyond.
We spread out into the small room, Gimli prostrating himself on the sarcophagus. Gandalf found a book and began reading from its pages. They fell apart as he moved them, and I wondered what knowledge might once have been contained there. The tomb belonged to Balin son of Dalin, Gimli's cousin. They had fought to the last, barred in this room as they listened to drums sounding in the deep. I looked away to the window.
It was Pippin who I should have been watching, however. For he tipped a skeletal body down the well in the corner, and the sound echoed for what seemed like hours.
"Fool of a Took! Next time send yourself down there and save us all a lot of bother."
We relaxed as nothing happened. And then it came. A deep booming noise, as if far away drums were beaten in signal.
The drumming died away and others answered, deep sounds which penetrated into our very bones as they echoed through the room. I turned to the door and ripped the soundproofing spell off of it.
More drumming came from the great hall and I swore softly. Frodo caught my arm and held out his sword. It was glowing blue. "Bilbo said it would do that if orcs were around."
I nodded. "Thanks, lad."
"We're trapped."
"Shut up." I snapped at Boromir.
"Let them come!" Gimli roared, "There is still one dwarf in Moria alive to oppose them!" He jumped atop the sarcophagus, axes at the ready.
I grinned, then pulled my sword, following Gandalf and Boromir in putting ourselves between the hobbits and the doorway. Boromir stuck his head out the opening and nearly got it shot for his pains. "Oh, great. They've got a cave troll!"
"Bar the doors!" Aragorn cried, and he moved to fit action to word, shoving one side of the double doors closed. Boromir closed the other, and I sheathed my sword to toss them long pieces of wood to wedge it closed with. There had once been a bar, it had shattered when the orcs overran the room the last time. This time, ax shafts held it together.
Outside, I could hear them coming, as if a crowd of metal fans were beating guitars against rock, the din nearly deafening.
As we finished, the first orc hit the door and we backed away hastily into a loose formation. Boromir and Gandalf were on the right, their swords out and steady. Aragorn and Legolas stood between them and me, arrows nocked and bows held steady. Behind us, the hobbits held their own swords, awaiting the deadly assault with fear in their minds. I tossed two more witchballs into the air, knowing we'd need all the light we could get.
With speed, the orcs broke through in two places, and well-placed bowshot killed several before the barrier disintegrated. And the ferocity of the orcs rushed in intent on our deaths.
I lost track of the others almost immediately as I swung into the first orc-neck, severing the head from its shoulders. Another was behind it, and another behind it. Parry, thrust, hack, slash. I threw knives and punches. One knocked me down and I rolled, picking up an ax-shaft, slamming it up into his breastplate and out the back.
A whirlwind of death and destruction, I kept my weapons on the physical plain, keeping any magic in reserve for bigger things.
In my bloodlust, I danced right out of the room and into the open, where I continued, ending at one point surrounded by nearly twenty orcs. I danced and lashed, kicked and bit. And then something slammed into my side, something so huge I had no chance to avoid it and went flying into a pillar, my head hitting with a sickening crack.
Stars danced in my vision as I had danced upon the field of battle, and then I knew no more.
--
My head hurt. It ached as if I'd been beaten bloody and then rolled down a huge rocky slope to land in a river of blood. Of course, the last hadn't happened. Movement echoed in the tunnels all around me, and I woke completely with a growl.
The orc carrying me growled back.
Idiots. My hands were untied, and the only thing missing from my person was my sword.
With a fumbling movement, I slid a knife into the back of my carrier. I did my best to fall away from his body as it fell, and I did pretty good, ending up on my feet with a knife in each hand and twenty orcs all staring at me in shock.
They all had swords, too.
"Can't we talk about this?"
They snarled, baring teeth in bad need of a dentist at me.
"Are you sure, because, there's going to be violence. And bloodshed. And, y'know, pain. Lot's of it. And it isn't going to be mine."
One of them stepped towards me, growling.
"Guess not."
I fight really dirty when cornered. Especially when I don't have to worry about hitting my own comrades with anything. Thrown knives, knees in the crotch, fingers in eyeballs... Oh, yeah, and huge concussive fireballs.
Gotta love being a mage.
Within a minute I was jogging back towards the others, my senses homing in on the traces I detected from the witchlights. I found my sword a couple feet from the door of Balin's Tomb (as I was calling it), and picked it up, checking it for any damage.
As there was none, I continued on into the chamber, and got an arrow in the shoulder. "FUCK!" I glared at Legolas, who was looking abashed. "Dammit, I'm on your side, you idiot." I pulled the quarrel from my shoulder and glared at the hole in my shirt. "And I'm going to get a bruise, too."
I was whining and I knew it. But my head still hurt--more so, since I'd used so much flagrant magic. And the orcs would be back once they got over their shock. It was about then that I noticed the body of the cave troll. Merry lay next to it, and I swore again before dropping to my knees at his side.
A quick healing probe proved him alive and well, save a few cracked ribs. I immediately set them to reknitting properly, and stood up again. "Who else is hurt?"
"Frodo." Aragorn was kneeling at the hobbit's side, worry in his face.
I moved to kneel next to him, readying another probe, "What happened?"
"This happened," Pippin said, holding up a huge boar-spear.
I winced and started to reach out to Frodo, when he awoke gasping. "Are you all right?"
He winced and sat up, "I think so."
"But how can this be?" Aragorn demanded, "That blow would have killed a wild boar."
Frodo carefully pulled back his shirt, revealing something shiny. I blinked, sensing that the stuff was familiar, but not why.
"Mithril!" Gimli cried, "This hobbit has more to him than meets the eye!"
"Aye. Good for him, too." Aragorn replied, helping Frodo stand.
The hair on the back of my neck began twitching, and I stood, sword out. "We should leave, they're regrouping."
While the others regathered themselves, I grabbed several orc-knives from those littered about. I'd lost several of my own, and until I could get more made, these would have to do. I sighed as I cleaned them and sheathed them in various places.
"To the bridge we must go," Gandalf said. "It must be a quick journey. Follow me!"
He sprang through the doorway, Boromir close behind him and Legolas behind the Gondorman. Gimli and the hobbits came next, then Aragorn and I brought up the rear. I tossed another ball of witchlight up to join the three already there.
I could hear them coming as we ran, teeth and claws ticking along the stone as they swarmed out of every nook and cranny, gathering us within a circle halfway to freedom. We circled ourselves, the hobbits in the middle.
Closer and closer the orcs crept, and I pondered the advisability of a massive fireball. With the height of the ceiling, it might even get hot enough to melt the rock under their very feet.
Before I could start work on that, something far down by Balin's Tomb boomed. The sound echoed into the floor, shivering up my legs and into my mind. I gasped at the evil that seemed to just *seep* into everything around us as the sound came again.
The orcs gave a frightened sound and scattered back into hiding, leaving us standing in a pool of light with something beginning to drift towards us. I couldn't see anything but a dim reddish light, but my mind tried not to deal with the feeling that came from it. Like slippery glass shards all covered in oil and worse things, I felt almost unclean for merely being under the same mountain with it.
And I wondered why I hadn't sensed it before.
"Y'know," I said conversationally, "when orcs run from something, it might be a good idea to follow their example." I resheathed my sword with a soft chime.
"What new deviltry is this?" Boromir asked softly.
"'Tis a Balrog. And it's beyond any of your ken." Gandalf was staring at the approaching light, his face drawn, "We should run. Now! To the bridge of Khazaad-dum!"
We ran.
The hall passed around us, the giant pillars illuminated, then falling behind as we zipped by. Behind us, I could sense the whatever-it-was beginning to pick up speed, and I decided I didn't want it following us if I could help it. In this case the 'enemy of my enemy' was NOT my friend.
We hit a small opening, and Gandalf led us into it. I caught Aragorn's arm, "Go on, I'll follow in a moment!"
I turned without waiting for an answer and raised my arms, beginning to spin a physical shield over the opening. It would keep anything from coming through for a while, hopefully. It depended on how strong this thing was, and whether it was smart enough to figure out that it could go around the shield. Well, if it could break stone we might be screwed.
Once finished, I ran on, tracing my witchlights through several passages and out onto a ledge. To my left, the wall fell out into the deep pit below me. To my right, a small stairway led downwards. I took it, my feet skipping every other step as I hastened after my companions.
The shield had taken more time than I'd thought it would, and as I neared the witchlights, I realised that the creature was causing an instability in the ceiling above us. Huge chunks of masonry were falling, some had already destroyed a small patch of the stairs, and I jumped across, to find that it turned sharply to my left.
This section spanned the whole chasm, and I gulped as I realised that there was barely any of it left. Beyond the chasm, I saw the others looking at me, worried.
Behind me, I felt the shield shatter as the whatever it was blasted it with dark magic. "Oh, flonq."
I stepped back to the wall, gauging the distance. I would make it. Maybe. With a shrug, I ran forward, trying to build up speed in five steps. And then I jumped, flattening my body out and arcing up and over the huge gap. I was lucky the other end was below the upper.
"Oof." I scrabbled at the stone, trying not to fall back into the pit, and felt hands grabbing me, pulling me to my feet.
"This way!"
As we sped into another archway, I sensed the evil following us, gaining. Gandalf joined me at the rear, looking worriedly over his shoulder.
"What is it?"
"The Balrog."
I had no clue what that was, really. Other than something very very nasty which I didn't want to face. And I didn't want to take the time to ask. Behind us the gap closed and I sensed that we would barely make it. If we were lucky. Ahead of us, the way opened out into a huge chasm, deeper than the last one, and wider.
The bridge that spanned it was a thin tooth of stone, barely wide enough for one person to cross. Without stopping, they began to cross it, and Gandalf pushed me ahead of him onto it. No time to look down, no time to worry about falling into that deep darkness, I ran, my feet finding the way without prompting.
I turned as I reached the other side. Gandalf had stopped in the centre of the bridge and turned to face the Balrog as it broke through the last archway and stood up to its full height above him. It was fire and darkness and evil, all wrapped in a huge monstrosity that might once have been something good. But I doubted it.
As I watched, it raised a huge lance of fire, preparing to smash down on Gandalf. The wizard raised his staff and Glamdring, and cried, "You shall not pass!" A dome of white power appeared around him, shining into the darkness like a beacon of hope.
The lance shattered on the dome, both dissipating into the ether around us. I thought about helping him, but knew this was his task, his job.
Besides, saving everyone's asses wasn't my job this time. This was a Quest, and I merely a player in it, there to keep people from dying and move things along... But I was not the one who would win in the end, and I suddenly wondered who would.
With a crack Gandalf's staff broke the stone bridge in front of him, and the Balrog's weight sent it slowly falling down into the darkness, vanquished for now.
For a moment the white wizard watched his nemesis fall into darkness, then he turned to us. A lick of flame lashed up and wrapped around Gandalf's ankle, pulling him backwards into the pit. I think all of us screamed in horror, and I started back towards the bridge, but Boromir caught me. My elbow slammed into his ribs, and I shook him off, running onto the bridge, desperate to reach Gandalf before he fell completely into the darkness.
As I ran, I sensed arrows beginning to fly around me. The orcs had come out of hiding in force, and I dodged, throwing myself flat on the bridge, fingers inches from Gandalf's. He stared at me, shock in his eyes as I closed my hand on his wrist.
"You should fly!"
"Not without you!" I screamed, angry suddenly.
I shouldn't have waited. I really shouldn't have.
The Balrog's very presence destabilised stone, and I should have remembered that. For as I lay there, holding Gandalf from the brink, straining to break the creature's hold on him, the roof fell on me.
--