Author: Mirrordance
Title: Tempus Edax Rerum ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")
Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…
PART FOUR: Burdens of Foreknowledge
Mines of Moria
January 15, 3019, the Third Age
They traveled long and hard along the seemingly infinite darkness of labyrinthine old Moria, following intricate ways that took them upward for hours on end, and downward, and level, and wound around unendingly. The floors were old, fragile to the heavy step here and there, potholes dotting it and falling all the way to a depth that could not be seen by the eye.
Gandalf led the way, his memory keen on all but one occasion, that with some contemplation still ultimately led them where they needed to go.
It is along this path that they had come upon the tomb of Balin, Lord of Moria. Gimli stood against it, brokenhearted, his wails sounding the halls and filling it with even more despair than it had already known.
Gandalf absently handed his staff and hat to Pippin, and leaned over a corpse of a dwarf that had a stuffy, thick book in its death-grasp. While Gimli was occupied in his grief, and Legolas urged Aragorn to move forward, and Gandalf read from the book of the last moments of the dwarves of Moria, Greenleaf watched the curious hobbit Pippin step back towards a well, and his brows furrowed in thought, knowing what was about to happen and if he should keep it from happening.
Pippin would cause a ruckus that would awaken the demons of Moria to their presence which was up until that moment, unnoticed. A battle would ensue, and they would all rush out of the hall trailed by goblins, and then the detestable balrog, ultimately leading to the fall of Gandalf. A fall which, while painful in its heart-wrenching loss, had its own ends to pursue and Greenleaf knew he must not change. But was the battle necessary at all? Or should he just lie still and let things unfold?
He watched as Pippin took a careful interest with the corpse lying precariously balanced against the well. His time was running short. A decision had to be made. Should he stop the hobbit?
"I wouldn't if I were you," he told the hobbit quietly.
"Wouldn't what--?" Pippin asked, turning toward him so sharply in guilt that Gandalf's staff his the corpse at the twist, and sent it down into the depths of the well below, dragging a bucket and a chain with it, hitting rocks sharply as it descended, banging and clanging, calling for attention.
Greenleaf sighed, as the rest of the fellowship held their breaths in anticipation for the consequences of this clumsiness. He supposed some things were just supposed to happen, and it comforted him some that there were greater fates that lain beyond his hands.
"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf exclaimed as he shut the book and took his belongings from the rightfully-stunned Pippin, "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"
Just as the fellowship were starting to feel relief that Pippin's difficult-to-miss alert had seemingly gone unnoticed, drums sounded across the halls, a dull echoing that sent a chill to the bone, especially since Gandalf's reading of the final moments of the dwarves of Moria had assured that such drums preceded fatal attacks.
"Orcs!" Legolas exclaimed, as Boromir ran for the door to peer into the dark, and the thwok of arrows against the wood narrowly missed his head as he reared away from them. He announced that the beasts had brought a blasted troll with them to boot, and he and Aragorn shut the doors hurriedly. Legolas and Greenleaf each tossed them an axe to barricade it with in such equal form and precision that upon catching the axes, Boromir and Aragorn glanced at each other, impressed.
"They are indeed one and the same!" exclaimed Boromir over the growing din of the drums. They backed away from the door and readied their stances, the two Legolases side by side, one armed with his bow and the other with his pair of silver guns. Beside them, Aragorn readied his own bow and Boromir and most of the hobbits stood with their swords slightly at the rear, with Gimli and his axe, Gandalf with his staff, and Sam with, of all things, his pots and pans.
The first orcs to fall had peered through holes upon the door and have been shot by well-placed arrows. But the barricades would not hold for very long, and only then did the battle truly begin. Each of the fellowship had more than his share of the barrage of orcs that had flowed into the hall like a flash-flood, even before the cave troll came barreling into the room and trashing it as if it were made of twigs, and not the toughest of stones.
Legolas took careful aim at the troll and his arrow met its mark, but such stern stuff was this troll made of that it hardly courted more than a cry of annoyance. Legolas focused his skills elsewhere as the troll took notice of Gimli and sent its mace crashing into where the dwarf stood, splintering Balin's tomb.
Greenleaf downed orc after orc with his guns, tearing through them as he made his way to Sam's side, fearing for his blasted pans even as he knew that the valiant hobbit was certainly making the best and most effective use of them.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Sam said to the elf breathlessly, as another orc fell to his swing with a bang.
Greenleaf smiled at him indulgently and said, "Just make sure you wash it before we eat."
A temporary respite lent Sam and Greenleaf the time to watch as Legolas was swung at with a chain by the mighty troll, and he wrapped the heavy mail against a pillar and locked it in place with an axe. Then he made his graceful way towards the orc's head and pointed his bow straight down, releasing an arrow, hoping to find the troll's weakness, before jumping down.
"Good move," Sam said to Greenleaf.
"I thought so too," the elf grinned and winked, before they turned away from each other to face their approaching enemies. Elsewhere, Greenleaf knew another drama unfolded, one that would cause more good than harm, so he let it happen undeterred, and unaided.
The troll had targeted the Ringbearer, and though he had used his guile and succeeded for awhile, the troll eventually managed to skewer the hobbit to the wall with a spear, sending him stunned to the ground.
"Frodo?!" exclaimed Sam, his heart pumping in fear and anger, eager for retaliation at the perceived fall of his dear friend, just as Pippin and Merry yelled their battle cries and sauntered purposefully towards the troll with their blades held high over their heads.
Greenleaf watched as the efforts to succeed heightened with the fellowship's burning adrenalin and aching loss, resulting in the battle soon ending, as the orcs fell and the troll smashed against the floor after a lethal shot from Legolas' bow. The sound of the orc's body thumping to the ground and the silence that followed it was one that he remembered well, and achingly. They thought they had lost Frodo, and it brought them together in their grief.
Sam, gathering himself from the floor, shot an angry, tearful look in Greenleaf's way. "You knew this would happen. You knew! And yet you did nothing. You did nothing! You wanted us to fail and now you ensured it! You are vile!"
Greenleaf's jaws set; the hobbit would soon know his anger was not deserved. But his heart wrenched at the betrayal in the oft-jolly hobbit's eyes, and his heart wrenched further in knowing that Gandalf's fall—minutes away—would merit him the same reaction.
Aragorn glanced at Greenleaf, brows furrowed as he tended to Frodo, as if he was wondering if he was wrong about the kindness of the elf after all. Legolas was watching his older self with horror, as if he could not believe that he would lend himself to such an act of evil.
"I'm all right, I'm not hurt."
All eyes shot to the stunned but otherwise well Frodo upon the ground, and Greenleaf looked away from them, catching a breath he did not know he was holding. They had all turned to him with angry betrayal, and it broke his heart. Why did he have to come back with such a task as this? Long had he yearned to once again see his friends, and when his wish was granted, it had to be under these circumstances, and such instances began to taint his loving memories.
Why did I have to come back, he wondered brokenly, turning away from them, as they all marveled at Frodo's survival.
The heavy footfalls and battle cries of the orcs soon sounded in the near distance once again, and Gandalf commanded them off, off towards the nearing bridge of Khazad-dum. Off towards his doom, and off towards what they would all surely look to once again as Greenleaf's betrayal.
The Fellowship tore through the corridors and ways, trailed by uncountable predators that stalked the darkness as if they owned it, and lorded over it. They broke into a quicker run towards a wide hall that was soon immersed in a light that promised a menace greater than the goblins that followed after them hungrily.
"What is this new devilry?" Bormoir asked, eyes widening as the light glowed further at the end of the hall, creeping ever closer towards them as their own pursuers fled from this great horror.
"A Balrog,"
Gandalf replied gravely as he eyed the approach of the brilliant fiery light,
"a demon of the ancient world. This is a
foe beyond any of you. Run!"
And if Gandalf could find any foe to
run from, then run they must for the Istari was wise and worldly. The fear that emanated from Gandalf was like
fire to their veins, making them run faster and faster, as if their foe
breathed against their neck, its forked tongue grazed against their
cheeks. They fled as if they had never
fled before, turning blind corners and running so quickly they found it hard to
stop, the momentum taking them forward as it did Boromir,
nearly falling into a massive height where a broken stairway ended its steps,
saved only by Legolas who had grabbed him from
behind.
The fellowship stopped not even for a moment to catch their breath at this near-fall, and they turned and found another steep descent, running and tripping and rising or being forcefully hauled up, they moved forward blindly and desperately.
But the steps were broken here and there, and the gaps, though often spanning less than a meter across, daunted the companions with the height of its fall, should their jumps fail to adequately make the distance. In such instances did Legolas always readily jump ahead, and tided the others over, catching them at the other side. This he did as Greenleaf covered their retreat with his guns, as goblins that surrounded the area fired arrows at them.
Soon, they came upon the Bridge of Khazad-dum, and it almost leered at them, its narrow pass inviting them forward and all at once threatened them with the steep fall of its narrow sides.
One by one, the fellowship passed it, with Gandalf holding the flank as he insisted, and Greenleaf lagging just in front of him.
"Go!" Gandalf commanded him, "Fly!"
"Fear not, Mithrandir," he said softly, and their eyes met for an incomprehensibly intimate moment, before Greenleaf turned away and ran, and Gandalf turned to face the fiery Balrog, his grey robes whipping about him as he summoned his powers.
"You cannot pass!" he commanded, as the burning figure loomed mightily and menacingly over his seemingly bedraggled, old form. The air cackled with his energy as he slammed his staff against the bridge, shouting, "You. Shall Not. Pass!"
The bridge collapses where Gandalf struck, and as it falls into the abyss, it takes the Balrog down with it. Gandalf watches with tired satisfaction as it fell, and turned to follow his companions when the whips of the Balrog ensnared his legs, sending him dangling over the edge, precariously balanced and straining to keep from falling.
"Gandalf!" came Frodo's anguished yell as he stepped forward to hurriedly aid the wizard, restrained by Boromir's mighty arms.
"Fly you fools!" Gandalf said, wide-eyed, just as he lost his grip and fell with the enemy that he had defeated.
The rest of the fellowship watched in stunned disbelief, unmoving save for Boromir who tightly held the wriggling Frodo. Aragorn himself was rooted to the ground, before he raised his head to look towards Greenleaf, whose eyes were set and afire.
"Do as Mithrandir commanded," he said quietly.
Aragorn stared at him for a moment, stunned by Gandalf's loss and then too by his friend's coldness, before the assault of more arrows penetrated his senses and he hurriedly led the fellowship away from the bridge, away from its despair, and out towards the blinding sunlight of the East Gate, as they exited Moria at last.
TO BE CONTINUED…