SEAL ON MY HEART
by Soledad
Disclaimer: see Introduction
Warning: this story contains implied m/m interaction – don't read it if it's not your thing.
Rating: G, for this chapter
Author's notes:
In case you are bewildered by Aragorn's behaviour, consider the fact that he was under the lure of the Ring, just like the others. No, I am not trying to make him a villain. I am just trying to make him a mere mortal instead of the infallible super hero.
This chapter has not been beta-red yet. Let us hope the spellchecker and the grammar checker did a good job.
Dedication: Yes, Isabeau, this is still your story. :)
CHAPTER TEN: A WALK IN THE DARKFinally, the full light of the morning came, and no signs of the wolves were to be found, nor could they see anywhere the corpses of the dead beasts. The only traces of the brutal fight were the charred trees, the scorched spots of grass on the hillside and the Elven arrows lying all around them, undamaged.
"Gaurhoth, or Wargs as the Northmen call them, are no ordinary wolves," explained Gildor to the agitated hobbits patiently. "They are the descendants of the evil werewolves, which appeared in Middle-earth during the First Age and remained a plague to the wilderness 'til the end of the Second. The last true Gaurhoth were slain in the Last Battle upon Dagorlad when they lost their evil strength with the fall of Sauron."
"But where have their bodies gone?" asked Sam.
"Wargs, like Orcs, fear the Sun," answered Gildor, "and their bodies disintegrate in the sunlight when killed. This is a trait they inherited from their skin-changing ancestors(1)."
"Can Wargs, too, turn into Men?" Sam was obviously frightened by the possibility. Gildor shook his head.
"Nay, they cannot. Do not be afraid. They are just evil beasts, nothing more."
"So they will not return in the night?" Sam was still not completely persuaded.
"Nothing slain by my hand has ever returned," replied Gildor with a hard glint in his eyes. "Be comforted, little master, we shall not see those Wargs again."
"But we might see their friends if we do not hurry up," said Gandalf. "Let us eat and go on. Quickly."
As no hobbit ever refused an offer to eat, the suggestion was followed. Gildor and Aragorn went forth to scout out their way for a while, and Elladan retired Boromir's shield. The others readied the pack animals in the meantime.
"Boromir should ride my horse," said Gildor, after returning, "or he would slow us down too much. If we want to reach the Gate of Moria at all, we must reach them before sunset."
"Are you certain that you can find the way?" asked Gandalf doubtfully. "It has been a long time since the fall of Eregion; the face of the whole country could have changed in an Age and a half. And Aragorn cannot guide us, either, for he has seldom walked the paths of these lands."
"Worry not," replied Gildor, "for I have visited Moria many times, even after the fall of Eregion, and know these paths well. They are winding, but the Gate is not far, and we can reach it by sunset, if we do not tarry any longer."
The others accepted his words, and soon they were on their way again, Boromir sitting high upon Gildor's horse, while some of the baggage had been removed from the good beast and loaded onto the ponies.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
All the day they had heard no sound and seen no sign of any living thing. As soon as the light began to fade they started off again. A light rain was still falling, but it troubled them little, even though it soaked their hair and garments and made the way slippery. But after an hour the clouds broke and the rain stopped. The sun came out in gleams. The hobbits broke out in delighted little cries Gandalf was concerned by the delay, and urged them to move on.
They steered now straight back towards the mountains, but both Gandalf and Gildor were much puzzled by their failure to find the Gate-stream that should have been running not far from their present path. They asked the others to take a short rest 'til they took a look around, and after a while they had come back again to the foothills and lower slopes they struck a narrow watercourse in a deep channel; but it was dry, and there was now no water among the reddish stones in the bed. There was, however, still something like an open path on the left bank. They stopped at once and looked at each other in askance.
"That is where the stream used to run, of that I am certain," said Gildor. "Sirannon, the Gate-stream they used to call it. And our road lies up this course," he pointed out the path on the other side.
The night was now falling, but though they were already tired, especially the hobbits, Gandalf urged them to press on. So, on they went, with slurring feet but rising hopes, into the deepening darkness.
Before the night was old the moon rose through the clouds that lay on the eastern peaks, and shone fitfully down over the western lands. They trudged on with their weary feet stumbling among the stones, until suddenly they came to a wall of rock some thirty feet high. Over it ran a trickling fall of water, but plainly the fall had once been much stronger.
"Here we are at last," said Gildor, relieved. "This is where the Stair-falls were. I wonder what happened to them. Still, there has to be a stairway cut in the stone at the left: the main path goes further round and up an incline. There is wide and shallow valley above the falls through which the Sirannon flowed."
After some looking, they found the stairway, and followed by Frodo and Arwen, Gildor climbed quickly up. The others, save Boromir and Sam who hated high places, followed them slowly. When they got to the top they discovered the reason of the drying up of the stream.
In the now bright moonlight they saw a dark, still lake, stretched before their feet. The Gate-stream had been dammed, and had filled the entire valley. Only a trickle of water escaped over the old falls, for the main outlet of the lake was now away at the southern end, from whence they heard the splash of running water.
Before them, dim and grey across the dark water, stood a vast cliff face, sheer and brooding, rising above them and before them, away into the mists. The moonlight lay pale upon it, and it looked cold and forbidding: a final bar to all passage. Frodo could see no sign of any gate or entrance in the frowning stone.
"This way is blocked," said Gandalf, stating the obvious unhappily. "At least as far as it can be seen at night.
"We must try and find a way round by the main path then," replied Gildor. "We cannot swim across the lake by moonlight – or any other light. It has an unwholesome look... Besides, we need some means to get Boromir up here safely."
They had no great difficulty in finding the old path. It turned away from the falls and wound northward for some way, before bending east again, and climbed up a long slope. When they reached the top of this they saw the lake laying on the right. The path skirted its very edge, but was not submerged. For the most part it was just above the water; but in one place, at the northernmost end of the lake, where there was a slimy and stagnant pool, it disappeared for a short distance, before bending south again toward the foot of the great cliff.
"Well, here we are at last!'' said Gandalf. "This is the end of our path – and now I am afraid we must say farewell to our ponies."
Gildor nodded in agreement. "The good beasts would go almost everywhere we told them to; but I do not think we could get them to go into the dark passages of Moria. Not even my horse, perhaps, though she would do anything I ask her. But there is a limit for what even the most faithful beast can do, even if they want to. And in any case there are behind the west gate many steep stairs, and many difficult and dangerous places where ponies could not pass, or would be a perilous handicap. If we are to win through we must travel lighter. Much of the stuff we have brought against bitter weather will not be wanted inside, now when we get to the other side and turn south."
When each member of the party had been given a share according to his size – most of the foodstuffs and the waterskins – the remainder was secured again on the ponies' backs. In each bundle Gandalf put a brief message to Elrond written in secret runes, telling him of the snowstorm and their turning aside to Moria.
Then Sam and Gildor led the horses off. Gildor whispered something in the ear of his mare, patted her neck and sent her on her way. He was certain she would find the way back to Rivendell and bring the ponies there unharmed, too.
"Now let us have a look at the gates!" said Gandalf.
"I do not see any gates," complained Sam.
"Dwarf-gates are invisible when closed," grunted Gimli, inwardly cursing the secretive ways of his people, certain that – being the only Dwarf present – the others will blame him for this new and rather unpleasant obstacle.
"True," nodded Gildor, "yet these particular doors had been made for the use of Celebrimbor's people, therefore they were not a secret, not even back in the Second Age. They had been made of ithildin; a silver substance that is seen only when touched by one who knows certain words – at night under the moon they shine most bright. Mithrandir, I believe 'tis your turn now. I cannot make the Gates visible."
Gandalf approached the rock between two twisted trees, running his hand over the cliff face, and as the travellers stared at it, it seemed to them that on the surface where Gandalf's hand had passed faint lines appeared like slender veins of silver running in the stone.
"Now... let us see," he murmured, trying to remember some forgotten piece of old lore "Ithildin… It mirrors only starlight... and moonlight.
He looked up at the black night sky; the moon appeared. Framed by the sharp shadows of the two trees, the silvery lines grew bright, shining with sheer white light. They outlined a door formed of two columns beneath an arch with a star in the centre. Writing in a strange tongue appeared in the arch. Gimli stared in awe at the gate of his forefathers.
"These are the emblems of Durin and of the Elves," said Gandalf, pointing with his gnarled staff. "Now you can see that we have certainly found the west gate of Moria."
"What does the writing say?" asked Frodo, who was trying to puzzle out the inscription. "I thought I knew the Elf-letters, but I cannot read these, they are so tangled."
"Nothing of much importance to us," said Gandalf. "At least not the opening-spell, if that is what you are thinking. They merely say: The doors of Durin Lord of Moria. Speak friends and enter. And underneath very small and now faint is: Narfi made them.(2) Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.''
"What does it mean by 'speak friends and enter'?" asked Frodo.
"That is plain enough,'' Gandalf shrugged. "If you are friends speak the password, and then the door will open and you can enter."
"No, not truly," Gildor shook his head. " Some Dwarf-gates will open only at special times, of for particular persons; and some have keys and locks which are necessary even when all other conditions are fulfilled. In the days of Durin these gates were not secret: they usually stood open and door-wards sat here. But if they were shut anyone who knew the opening words could peak them and pass in."
"Do you know them then?" asked Frodo anxiously. Gildor nodded.
"Why, certainly. Mithrandir, if you would touch that star with your staff for me…" When the wizard obeyed, the Elf-Lord looked up to the gate and called a single word in a clear, ringing voice. "Mellon!"
The star shone briefly and went out again. Then silently a great door was outlined, though not the finest crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly, the stone door began to swing outwards, inch by inch, until it lay right back against the wall. Behind, the foot of a shadowy stairway could be seen. All the party stood and stared in wonder.
"Lord Gildor, we owe you our gratitude," the wizard said. "I might have needed a long time to figure out that the opening word was inscribed there all the time."
Gildor gave him a brief nod. "Let us enter the Mines," he said, "we have but little time."
The others moved hesitatingly toward the gate, fear and wonder fighting in their hearts. And at that moment Frodo felt something seize his ankle and he fell. At the same moment Sam and Aragorn who had just come back gave a yell as they ran up. Turning suddenly, the others saw that a long, glistening tentacle was thrust out from the lake's dark edge, its fingered end taking hold of Frodo's foot and dragging him towards the water.
Instinct told Boromir to turn back and hurry to the Ringbearer's aid, but his wounded leg gave in and he almost fell. Fortunately, Sam did not hesitate to dash up with a drawn knife and slash at the tentacle, even though his knife could do little more than distracting the… creature, whatever it might be. Still, this gave Aragorn and Elladan the time to run to Frodo and attack the tentacle with their swords, while Arwen drew her bow, ready to shoot.
The fingers let go of Frodo, and Sam dragged him away; but immediately the waters of the lake began to heave and boil, and twenty more tentacles came ripping out, making for the travellers as if directed by something in the deep pools that could see them all.
"To the gateway! Quick! Up the stairs!" shouted Gandalf, rousing them from the horror that held them rooted for a moment.
There was just time. Gandalf saw them all inside, and then sprang back upon the heels of Gildor, but he was no more than four steps up when the crawling tentacles of the dweller in the pool reached the cliff. Gildor pushed along the others, his sword drawn, to defend Elladan and Boromir who were falling back, but the tentacles did not attack them. Instead, they seized the door, and swung it round with a force none of them could hope to resist.
With a shattering echo it slammed behind them; and sounds of rending and crashing came dolly through the stone from outside. Elladan they halted on stairs, leaning Boromir against the rock wall, listening. Gandalf ran down to the door and thrust up and spoke the words, but though the door groaned, it did not stir.
"There is no use, Mithrandir," said Gildor calmly. "I believe the trees are thrown down across it, and boulders have been rolled against it. Now, we can only go on – there is nothing left to do."
"I felt that something evil was near," murmured Frodo. "What was it, Gandalf?"
"I could not say," admitted Gandalf. "Mayhap something that has crept, or been driven out of the dark waters under ground. There are older and fouler things than goblins in the dark places of the world."
He did not speak aloud the thought that the Dweller in the Pool had not seized on Frodo among all the party by accident. But he saw Gildor's concerned look resting on the hobbit's face, and the Elf-Lord nodded briefly to his unspoken remark.
"We must go on, Mithrandir," he reminded the wizard again. "Our time is running short with every moment we spend tarrying here."
Gandalf could not agree more, and the others, too, wanted to bring this dark journey behind them as quickly as possible. Thus they gathered on the steps, following the pale glow of the wizard's staff, ready to continue their way into the deep darkness of the Mines.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gildor now went ahead, being the one with the best knowledge about the Mines, and Gandalf remained on his side, allowing his wand to glow faintly to prevent them from walking into unseen dangers in the dark. But the great stairway was sound and undamaged. There were two hundred steps, broad and shallow, and Boromir clomb them with great effort, supported by Elladan. At the top they finally found the floor level before them and all sighed in relief.
"Let us have something to eat here on the landing, as there is little chance to find a dining-room," said Frodo. He had recovered from the terror of the clutching arm, and was feeling unusually hungry. The idea was welcome to all. After they had eaten, Gandalf again gave them a taste of the cordial.
"It shall not last much longer," he said, "but I think we need it after that business at the gate. And we shall need all that is left before we get through, unless we have luck. Go carefully with the water too! There are streams and wells in the Mined, but they should not be touched. We shall not get a chance of filling our bottles till we come down in Dunruin.(3)
"How long are we going to take to get through?" asked Frodo.
"It all depends on our speed and secrecy," answered Gildor. "But going straight (without mishaps) we should take at least three or four marches. It is more than forty miles from the West-doors to East gate in a straight line, and passages may have been changed or re-routed since I had entered the Mines the last time."
They rested now only for a short while, as they were all willing, tired as they were, to go on still for several hours. Even Boromir preferred to go on, despite the growing pain in his leg. As before, Gildor went in front and with him went Gandalf, holding his wand, the pale light of which was sufficient to show the ground before their feet. Gildor held his great sword in his right had, a sword, which he had inherited from his great-grandfather Finarfin, who still ruled the Noldor Elves in Valinor. No gleam came from the blade – which was some comfort; for being a sword of ancient Elvish make it shone with a cold light if goblins were at hand.
He led them forward first along the passage in which they had halted. As the light of Gandalf's wand dimly lit their dark openings, other passages and tunnels could be seen or guessed: sloping up, or running steeply down, or turning suddenly round hidden corners. It was most bewildering. Gildor was guided mainly by his general sense of direction, but his memories proved still sharp, and he found his way unerringly, to the great astonishment of the hobbits and to Aragorn's grudging respect.
Boromir cared little for their route. His wounded leg was giving him great pain; the mere walking had become an almost impossible task. He was supported not by Elladan only, but by Arwen, too, who had left Aragorn's side to allow him to lean on her slender but surprisingly strong shoulder. Gimli fell back to protect the Company's rear, as Gildor knew his way through the Mines a lot better anyway. Aragorn remained with the hobbits, urging them forward and helping them climbing over the occasional obstacle in their way.
And it was good so, if they wanted to reach the other side of the Mines without any disaster. For there were in many places pits at the sides of the tunnel, and dark wells in which far under the gurgling of water could be heard. Rotting strands of rope dangled above them from broken winches. There were dangerous chasms and fissures in the rock, and sometimes a chasm would open right across their path.
But thank to the keen eyes of the Elves and Aragorn himself, they managed to avoid all those pitfalls, stumbling along their seemingly endless way in the dark. They had been going for many hours, with brief halts, when they came to a wide dark arch opening into three passages: all three led in the same general direction, East, but the left hand passage seemed to plunge down, the right hand to climb up, while the middle way seemed to run level, but was very narrow.
"I have no memory of this place at all!" said Gandalf, standing uncertainly under the arch.
"This is one of the major forks on the inner paths," replied Gildor. "We had better halt here for the night. The little folk must be bone-weary, and Boromir is obviously in much pain. Can you give us just a little more light, Mithrandir? We must find a place for our rest that is better protected than an open gateway."
Gandalf nodded, increasing the light of his stab for a shade, so that they could at least cast a look around. To the left of the great arch was a lower opening, and when they explored it closer they discovered that it was a stone door that was half closed, but swung back easily to a gentle thrust. Beyond it there seemed to be a chamber or chambers cut in the rock.
"Wait, my friends!" said Gildor, as Sam and Frodo pushed forward, glad to find somewhere where they could rest with some sort of security. "Hold back! You know not what may be inside. I will go first."
He went cautiously in, followed by Gandalf, who provided him with as much light as he dared.
"There!" the wizard said, pointing with his wand to the middle of the floor. They saw before their feet a round hole like the mouth of a well, Rotting strands of rope lay at the edge and trailed down into the dark pit; fragment of broken stone lay near.
"One of you might have fallen in and still be waiting to hit the bottom," said Gildor to Sam. "Look before your feet! I can remember now: this was a guard-room, placed to watch those passages," he went on. "The hole, I expect, is a well, and was once covered with a stone lid. But that is broken now, and you had better be careful of the fall."
The others filed in one after another, slowly and carefully, and started making beds of blankets in dark corners of the room, as far as possible from the well. The hobbits rolled themselves into several blankets and cuddled together, falling asleep ere they could even find the most comfortable position.
Gildor took the first watch, saying that he needed less sleep than the others, even Arwen and Elladan, being older and more hardened than Elrond's children. Besides, he had not had to carry part of Boromir's weight all the way along. The other Elves agreed, and after Arwen had done what she could to ease Boromir's pain and to tend his wound (which was fairly little under the circumstances), they lay down to rest, too, warming the wounded and weary Man from both sides, to Aragorn's great dismay. Gimli was snoring near the hobbits already, but Gandalf sat quietly a little aside, thinking hard about the path before them, and Aragorn, too, sat aside, morosely and alone, brooding in the dark.
The throbbing pain in his leg kept Boromir awake, though, no matter how weary he was, so he simply lay there, soaking up the body heat of the two Elves on his side gratefully and watched Gildor from half-closed eyes.
For a while, the Elf-Lord sat motionless like a statue, dangerously close to the well – it seemed not to bother him at all, though Boromir itself had the irrational feeling as if some old and vile creature would creep out of that dark hole any moment. Then, after some time, Gildor pulled the fine golden chain from under his tunic again. He opened the tiny lock of the pendant and looked at whatever might be inside it with and expression of deep sorrow.
To his surprise, Boromir now saw Aragorn rise and walk over to Gildor. The two began to talk in low voices. What they were talking about, Boromir could not understand, but the few fragments he was able to catch were in Elvish, and the tone of their conversation was less than friendly. Boromir felt Arwen tense up on her side, and soon he felt Elladan's mind return to awareness, too. The more they were together, the stronger he could feel the changes in Elladan's mood, even though exchanging thoughts still cost them considerable effort.
Gildor and Aragorn still kept their voices low, but their argument seemed to heat up. Arwen left Boromir's side, determined to separate them ere something happened that both would regret. Aragorn seemed to be in a strange mood lately, and Gildor's manners were able to bring out the worst in a Man on his best days.
"After six thousand years, he still cannot learn how to handle mortals," murmured Elladan, as if reading his sister's mind. Arwen shook her head.
"Oh, he usually can. He just delights in provoking Estel – which is not a wise thing. Even less so now, under the Ring's lure."
"Then you better go," said Elladan quietly, "for it can easily come to swords between them, irritated as they both are with the bad turns of our luck… and with each other."
Indeed, at this very moment, Aragorn raised his voice in anger. Not much, but enough that even Boromir could understand.
"You have had your chance and you missed it," he said, and his voice was so frighteningly cold that Boromir shivered. "Now back off and do not meddle with her life again, or you will regret it."
Boromir shot a bewildered look at Elladan. "What is happening to Aragorn? I admit I am not very fond of him, but I have never seen him behave like this."
"'Tis the Ring," answered Elladan sadly. "Can you not feel its pull growing stronger? Estel is a good man, but in the end, he is only a man, like the others. He is not warded against the evil that has been hammered into that cursed thing. No-one is."
They had missed Gildor's reply, but if the arrogant smile of the Elf-Lord was any indication, it had to be truly insulting, for Aragorn paled so much that it could be seen even in the pale gleam of Gandalf's staff. Then – so quickly that Boromir could rather guess his move than actually see – the Ranger stooped and yanked the golden chain from Gildor's neck.
"You think yourself so much better than the rest of us," he said, with a nasty smile on his face, holding the little pendant on his broken chain above the well, "yet you were not even able to reach the one you are still pining after in time to save him."
"Estel," said Gildor warningly, his voice cold as ice, "mind your manners, youngster. Give me back what is mine!"
"Or what?" asked Aragorn, an ugly light gleaming in his otherwise kind and stern eyes. "You slay me?"
"I can be persuaded," replied Gildor coolly, and Boromir saw in his eyes that he meant it.
Yet Aragorn, mayhap due to the pull of the Ring on his mind, was beyond reason already. He simply laughed at Gildor, saying, "Go to Mandos after your dead lover, you cold fish!" and let the broken chain slip from his hand.
Only the incredible Elven speed of Arwen saved Aragorn's life in that moment. In a blur of soft grey leathers, Arwen threw herself before Aragorn and right in the way of a beautifully carved throwing knife that was aimed right at the Ranger's throat. The knife hit Arwen in the shoulder, slicing into her leather tunic and revealing the chain mail made of mithril that she wore underneath.
All this occurred in less than a minute – then far below was a plunk, as if the small pendant had fallen into deep water in a cavernous place – very distant, but magnified and repeated in the hollow rock.
"What is that?" cried Gandalf. When Arwen revealed what Aragorn had done, the wizard became very angry, but for some reason he did not say anything, just looked at the Ranger with dark, enraged eyes that would have made a dragon shiver. Then he bent over the well and listened.
There was nothing to hear for several minutes; but then there came out of the depths faint knocks, that stopped, and were dimly echoed, and then after a short silence were repeated. It sounded strangely like signals of some sort. But after a while the knocks died away altogether and were heard no more.
"It may have nothing to do with Aragorn's foolish deed," Gandalf finally said; "and in any case it may have nothing to do with us – but of course it may be anything. Let us hope we get some rest undisturbed. And try to behave according the graveness of our situation. All of you."
The others nodded in grim agreement. After a while it was decided that Gandalf would take over watching, as he needed to think anyway. Gildor retreated into the farthest corner of the chamber, as far from Aragorn as possible, pulled his cloak tightly around himself and sat there with burning eyes and no expression on his pale face at all. It seemed as if something had broken inside of him. The others returned to their bedrolls and were soon asleep, despite the recent events, finally succumbing to the need of their weary limbs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was Gandalf who roused them from sleep. He had watched all alone for about six hours and let the others rest.
"And in the meantime I have made up my mind," he said. "I do not like the feel of the middle way, and I do not like the smell of the left hand – there is foul air down there I deem. We shall take the right hand way – 'tis time we began to go up again – if Lord Gildor agrees."
Gildor nodded listlessly and moved on, as soon as the others had eaten. He refused to eat himself, and there was something in his eyes that kept the others from arguing. For eight dark hours, not counting two brief halts, they marched on, and met no danger, and heard nothing, and saw nothing but the faint gleam of the wizard's light bobbing like a will-o'-the-wisp in front of them.
The passage they had chose wound steadily upwards, going, as far as they could judge, in great curves, and growing steadily wider. On neither side were there now any openings to other galleries or tunnels, and the floor, though rough in many places, was sound and without pits or cracks. Even Boromir could go on with surprisingly little pain, though he needed both Arwen and Elladan to support him now, while Gimli was carrying his shield. Aragorn walked at the rear his face blank and his eyes darkened.
They went quicker than the day before, and must have cowered some twenty miles or more, perhaps fifteen in a straight line eastwards. As they went upwards Frodo's spirits rose a little; but still he felt oppressed, and still at times he heard or thought he heard away behind and through the patter of their own feet a following footfall that was not an echo. Also, the near-fatal quarrel between Aragorn and Gildor concerned him greatly, more so as both he and Sam liked the Ranger as well as the Elf-Lord. He feared that ere their quest came to an end, there would be even more such fights. He felt the pull of the Ring growing stronger himself and wanted to get out of Moria as soon as possible.
They had gone nearly as far as the hobbits could endure without rest and sleep, and they were all thinking of a place to halt for the night, when suddenly the walls to right and left vanished. They halted. Gandalf seemed well pleased.
"I think we have reached the habitable parts," he said, "and are no great way from the eastern side. I can feel a change in the air, and guess we are in a wide hall. I think I will risk a little light."
He raised his wand and for a brief moment it blazed out like a flash of lightning. Great shadows leapt up and fled, and for a second or two they saw a vast roof high above their heads. On every side stretched a huge empty hall with straight hewn walls. Four entrances they glimpsed: dark arches in the walls: one at the west by which they had come, one before them in the east, and one on either side. Then the light went out.
"That is all I shall venture on for the present,' said the wizard. "Gildor, can you tell us where we might be?"
"There used to be great windows on the mountain-side, and shafts leading out to the light and the upper reaches of the mines," answered Gildor flatly. "I think that is where we are. But it is night now, and we cannot tell till morning. If I am right, tomorrow we may actually see the morning peering in."
The hobbits exchanged delighted looks at that, and even Arwen and Elladan seemed relieved. This endless walking in the dark made them uncomfortable.
"In the meanwhile we had better go no further without exploration," said Gandalf. "There will still be a good way to go before we are through – the East Gates are on a much lower level than this, and it is a long road down. Let us rest if we can."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They spent that night in the great empty hall, huddled in a corner to escape the draught – there seemed to be a steady flow of chill air in through the eastern archway. The vastness and immensity of the tunnels and excavations filled the hobbits with bewilderment.
"There must have been a mighty tribe o' Dwarves here at one time," said Sam; "and every one as busy as a badger for e hundred years to make all this – and most in hard rock too. What did they do it all for? They did not live in these darksome holes, surely?"
"Not for long," answered Gildor, "though the miners often took long spells underground, I believe. They found precious metals, and jewels – very abundantly in the earlier days. But the mines were most renowned for the metal which was only found here in any quantity: Moria-silver or true-silver as some call it. We call it mithril, and the Jewel-smiths of Nan-eregdos(4) valued it still above gold."
"Why?" asked Sam innocently. He did not understand much of riches and smithcraft, but now his curiosity was picked, and he looked up at the Elf-Lord in childlike admiration. Gildor actually smiled at him – 'twas a weak and pale smile but a smile nevertheless.
"For it is feather-light, and malleable as copper, but the Dwarves could by some secret of theirs make it as hard as steel. It surpasses common silver in all save beauty, and even in that it is its equal. In their day the Dwarf-Lords of Uruktharbun(5) were more wealthy than any of the Kings of Men."
"Well, we have not clapped eyes on any kind of silver since we came in,' grunted Sam; "nor any jewels neither. Nor on any Dwarves."
"I think not we are likely until we get further up and nearer to the eastern entrances," said Gimli. But Gildor only looked at him with compassionate eyes and answered not.
"I hope we do find Dwarves in the end,' said Frodo. "I would give a great deal to see old Balin. Bilbo was fond of him, and would be delighted to have news of him. He visited him in Hobbiton once long ago, but that was before I went to live there."
Again, Gildor answered not, and they settled for the night. Boromir insisted to take his turn to watch, just like everyone else, pointing our reasonably that he would not need his legs for sitting and listening. Besides, the pain would keep him awake anyway.
As silence fell and one by one the others fell asleep he felt the strange dread assail him again. But though he listened endlessly through the slow hours till he was relieved he heard no sound of any footfall. Only once, far away where he guessed the western archway stood, he fancied he saw two pale points of light – almost like luminous eyes.
He startled. "I must have nearly fallen asleep," he thought; "I was on the edge of a dream."
He rubbed his eyes and moved his wounded leg, so that the pain would keep him from falling asleep, peering into the dark until he was relieved by Gimli. He limped back to Elladan's side and finally fell asleep, burrowing himself into Elladan's arms like a child. It was strangely comforting – no-one had held him in his sleep since he had left his mother's care. Here, under the cloak of darkness, he allowed himself the rare luxury to be weak.
He woke surprisingly well rested and found that the others were speaking softly near him, and that a dim light was actually falling on his face. High up above the eastern arch, through a shaft near the roof, came a grey gleam. And across the hall through the northern arch light also glimmered faint and distantly.
He sat up. "Good morning!" said Gandalf. "For morning it is again at last. I was right, you see. Before today is over we ought to get to the Eastern Gate and see the waters of Helevorn in the Dimrilldale before us."(6)
All the same, Gildor felt some doubt as to their exact position – they might be far to the north or the south of the Gates. Moria was much too intricately built, even for his flawless Elven memory. He had not visited the Mines since the fall of the Dwarven Kingdom, and that had been more than thousand years ago.(7)
The eastern arch was the most likely exit to choose, and the draught that flowed through it seemed to promise a passage leading before long to the outer air; but beyond the opening there was no trace of light.
"If I could only see out of one of these shafts," the Elf-Lord said, "I should know better what to do. We might wander backwards and forwards endlessly, and just miss the way out. We had better explore a little before we start. And let us go first towards the light."
As the only light cane from under the northern arch, they passed through there and went down a wide corridor; and as they went the glimmer of light grew stronger. Turning a sharp corner they came to a great door on their right. It was half open, and beyond there was a large square chamber. It was only dimly lit, but to their eyes, after so long in the dark, it seemed almost dazzlingly light, and they blinked as they entered. Their feet disturbed deep dust and stumbled amongst things laying on the floor within the doorway whose shapes they could not at first make out.
They saw now that a wide shaft high up in the far wall lighted the chamber – it slanted upwards and far above a small square patch of sky could be seen where it issued outwards. The light fell directly on a table in the midst of the chamber, a square block some three feet high upon which was laid a great slab of whitened stone.
"It looks like a tomb!' muttered Frodo, and went forward to look at it more closely with a curious sense of foreboding. Gandalf came quickly to his side. On the slab was deeply cut in Runes:
BALIN SON OF BURIN(8) LORD OF MORIA
Gandalf and Frodo looked at one another, their eyes full of shared memories and of sorrow.
"He is dead then. I feared it somehow," said Frodo.
Gimli fell to his knees before the tomb of his uncle and wept. Shaken out of his dispassionate mood, Gildor stepped up to him and laid a comforting hand upon his shaking back. Thusly they stood for some time, and naught else but Gimli's deep sobs could be heard.
TBC
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
End notes:
(1) This is by no means sure, of course. I just wanted to find a reason for their disappearance as the question has bothered me ever since I read the Books for the first time.
(2) The former spelling of Narvi.
(3) Early name of the Dimrill dale. I assumed it was named thusly by Men.
(4) Early name of Eregion.
(5) Old name for Khazad-dûm.
(6) Early name of the Mirrormere. I assumed it was named thusly by Men.
(7) Between 1981-1999, Third Age, depending which event we consider "the fall" of Moria.
(8) It took some time until Fundin was established as Balin's father. For a while, Burin was the son of Balin, before he got rejected completely.