Ok. Biiiggg talk about Morior and everyone digs the nasties out of the
closet for display. I shake my head and stay stubbornly silent when they
ask my opinion. Not talking. Speak no evil monkey, that's me. They decide
to go to Morior after all, and I sigh in relief. After the council is over,
we climb to the top of a small hill for protection from the owners of the
howls we hear drifting on the icy wind. Wargs, that's what Aragorn called
them and I'm not arguing with the Power Ranger on this one. Uhuh. Being
good quiet kittie. Snuggling with her big protector. Shh, quiet. A
particularly evil and chilling howl rips through the eerie chorus, and I
look up, startled. My jaw drops open and I try to disappear inside Boromir.
*That's* a Warg? Shite.
Gandalf stands up and strides forward, brandishing his staff. "Listen, Hound of Sauron! Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout if you come inside this ring." The Warg snarls at him, undecided, and then springs towards us in a great leap. I let out a short scream and try to scramble backwards, forgetting that I am already pressed up against Boromir as much as physically possible. And then the Warg collapses with Legolas' arrow in its throat.
"That was so not in the movie," I comment peevishly, a little ashamed of my fear. "I mean, look at the bugger. It's fricking *huge*. How am I meant to kill that?"
"You will. I'll watch your back," Boromir calmly reassures me. "Do not be ashamed of your fear, for you have not seen yet the evils this world contains."
"Right, no more whiny bitch moment. Sword, bow, arrows. All here and accounted for." I grip my weapons, sounding a lot more confident then I feel. Ack. That *thing* lying there in death is so large, and I wonder again, just how the *fuck* am I supposed to kill these things? I can but try. "Is it just me, or has that god awful howling stopped?"
"No, it's stopped," Merry tells me cheerfully.
"Good to see I'm not really going mad then, because I could have sworn they were doing the whole 'grr, I'm so evil, you just wait until I get up there' play a few minutes ago. Grr, bad dog." I look up at Aragon. "When's my watch, by the by?"
"Now, actually. Will you be alright to sit up by yourself?"
"Yep. Managed it all those other nights, days, whatevers haven't I? I see so much as a whiff of a Warg, I'll wake Boromir up." Aragon just nods and lays back down to sleep. Soon the others do the same, except for Boromir. "Sleep. I'll wake you if Wargs pour up the hill. Well, I'll probably wake everyone up with my hysterical screaming and incoherent babbling." Boromir nods and lays down, but I can see his eyes watching me. "See, sword, bow. I'm pretty well armed, and I managed to knock you onto your arse last week, so I think I'll live for at least the first few minutes until you get your sword and defend me." Boromir closes his eyes and I watch over the camp, moving around to make sure I stay awake. Nothing happens, until the moon starts to sink into the west and I can see Frodo stirring, but the others sleeping soundly. And then the howls start up again, and I can see the Wargs start to rush up the hill. "Wargs! They're attacking!" They all jump to their feet, grabbing blindly for weapons.
"Fling fuel on the fire!" Gandalf tells the Hobbits and I help them do that, deducing very rightly that my place here is behind the experienced fighters. "Draw your blades and stand back to back!"
The Hobbits quickly do that, and I join Legolas, nocking my bow and drawing the arrow back to my cheek, aim and let fly. The arrow thuds very finally into a Warg's chest, sending it arse over tip down the hill. The Wargs flow like gray shadows into the circle of stones, and mine and Legolas' bows sing as we let loose with a volley of shafts. Boromir hews the head off one of them, and Aragorn and Gimli are doing very well too.
Then suddenly, Gandalf seems to grow, and I have to drop my bow and draw my sword as a Warg leaps for my throat. I skewer it and it bites and thrusts itself further down on my sword as it tries to rip my throat out. "Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!" Gandalf cries out and the tree above him explodes into flame, very dramatic.
I jerk my sword arm back, and then quickly thrust back in as the Warg refuses to die. The fire leaps from treetop to treetop and the entire hillside is bathed in white light, and my sword gleams and flickers where it's not covered in blood. As the Warg finally shudders into death, I notice that the others weapons are doing the same, and Legolas' arrows look like they're on fire. His last arrow flies into the heart of a *huge* Warg, and the others turn tail and flee as this large one falls. I lean on my sword and wipe it shakily on the grass as the fire dies down and ashes dance on the wind. I look down at the Warg I have killed, and feel distinctly ill. I have never killed anything before. I very quietly make my way behind one of the stones and vomit up the food I ate last night. I wipe my mouth and lean back on my heels, still shaking inside.
"Do not worry. The first time I went into battle, I threw up afterwards as well." Boromir crouches down beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "It is one thing to talk, quite another to do. You did well today." He gives my shoulder a final pat and stands to go back to the group. I lean against the cool side of the stone and shudder as I fight the dry heaves that want to continue. As dawn rises fully, I stand and walk back inside the stone circle.
"Hey, didn't we kill a whole lot of these Warg things?" I look around puzzled. There's not a body to be seen, and only Legolas' arrows and mine litter the ground.
"It is as I feared," Gandalf says, and he looks distinctly worried. "These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. Let us eat quickly and go!" We gobble down food, and set off quickly after Legolas and Gandalf bind up minor wounds the company suffered. I hiss in pain as Legolas slathers lotion down my arms. The Warg last night ripped my arms to shreds with its nails, and I didn't even notice until Boromir pointed out the blood slowly seeping down my arms.
"Fuck!" I swear rather loudly. Legolas tuts at my language and bends back down to his task as I shiver in the early morning light, my shirt off so he can tend to my wounds better. "Hurry up, Legolas, I'm freezing." He just raises a delicate eyebrow at me, and goes back to being slow and thorough. I look over his shoulder into Boromir's annoyed eyes and I poke my tongue out at him. Sitting here half naked, wearing my pants and a bra is not my idea of fun when it's about ten degrees. Maybe when it's about twenty-five, and I'm about to lose more clothes, but not now, and not here. And the wrong guy, may I add.
"Would you prefer it if the scratches became infected?" Legolas asks me as he looks up from his bandaging for a moment.
"No, but I'm co-old!" I know I'm whining, but I am! It's fricking freezing in here, Mr. Bigglesworth! Legolas rises and steps away. "You done?"
"Yes. You can put your shirt back on."
"Thank god!" I pull my shirt gingerly over my head, grimacing slightly as the cloths pulls against the scratches. I get to my feet and gather up my pack and bow, as the Fellowship starts off. We have to go quickly, and reach the doors to Morior before dark. Gimli travels by Gandalf's side, he must want to meet his cousin or whatever, Balin. I don't have the heart to tell him that all the Dwarves who went into Morior are dead.
~*~*~*~
Finally we reach Morior's Gate. Well, where it should be anyway. I grip Pippin's shoulder and tell him very earnestly, and very quietly, "Don't you *dare* throw any rocks in the water, or I will personally flay you alive." He nods; looking a bit frightened. I pat his shoulder. Good.
"There are the Walls of Morior," Gandalf declares, pointing across the waters. "And there the Gate stood once upon a time, the Elven Door at the end of the road from Hollin by which we have come. But this way is blocked. None of the Company, I guess, will wish to swim this gloomy water at the end of the day. It has an unwholesome look."
"We must find a way round the northern edge," Gimli says. "The first thing for the Company to do is to climb up by the main path and see where that will lead us. Even if there were no lake, we could not get our baggage-pony up this stair."
"But in any case we cannot take the poor beast into the Mines," Gandalf says, looking back to where Sam stands with Bill. So it's bye-bye pony time. Pity. Bill is cuddlesome. "The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can."
"Poor old Bill!" Frodo remarks sadly. "I had not thought about that. And poor Sam! I wonder what he will say?"
"I am sorry," Gandalf says, placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Poor Bill has been a useful companion, and it goes to my heart to cut him adrift now. I would have traveled lighter and brought no animal, least of all this one that Sam is so fond of, if I had had my way. I feared all along that we should be obliged to take this road." With that, Gandalf turns and starts to lead us along the narrow, chipped pathway that runs alongside the lake. Sometimes we have to tread in and over little rivulets of dirty water. Ew. If this was home, I'd say go and find the evil global conglomerate that's cutting costs and ruining the environment, but there are no conglomerates here.
Finally we come to the northern edge of the lake and the sun is slipping from the sky. I stare in horror and disgust at the creek that flows, or rather crawls over our path. Green and stagnant, stinking like nothing I've ever smelt. Rotting vegetation and dead hopes. Gimli tests it, and it's shallow, so we start to make our way across it, scum covered water hiding slippery, scum covered rocks. "Ew." We start to pick our way across it and I curse as my boot slips off a rock and into a deeper patch of water with a splash. "Fuck!" Legolas glares at me. "Kiss my ass, Elf." I glare back. He looks back to the front and I glower at his back. This is just not a good day for me.
As Sam leads Bill, the last of the company up onto dry ground at the other end, I hear a plop, like a fish leaping out of the water, just a soft sound but as I whirl back to look across the lake, I see a series of ripples, great rings of them widening outward from a point far out in the lake. Badness. Great big monster in the water. A bubbling sound and Legolas frowns next to me as the lake subsides back into the dead stillness that has characterized it for most of today. Gandalf sets off quickly and we all follow him. Soon, we come upon dead holly trees, hundreds of them. Stumps and branches of them lie in the water, slowly rotting. But there is a sign of life in this dead land. Two great holly trees stand together under the cliffs, huge, immense, throwing dark shadows up the cliff face, and I hear Frodo gasp in astonishment beside me. Yep, they're damn big trees.
"Well, here we are at last!" Gandalf says semi-cheerfully. "Here the Elven- way from Hollin ended." Yada yada yada, Elves used to be friends with dwarves. Whoop-ti-fucking-do. I sit down on a rock and empty water out of my boots. Yuuccckkk.
"It was not the fault of Dwarves that the friendship waned," Gimli says gruffly, glaring daggers (or should that be axes?) at Legolas. Legolas straightens slowly.
"I have not heard it was the fault of the Elves." Legolas and Gimli go into full testosterone pissing contest mode. And they say women are emotional.
"I have heard both;" Gandalf cuts in, preventing almost certain bloodshed, "And I will not give judgment now. But I beg you both, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends," I hah scornfully at that, and Gandalf gives me a mild reproving glance, "and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!" Gandalf turns to the rest of us. "While I am searching, will you each make ready to enter the Mines? For here I fear we must say farewell to our good beast of burden. You must lay aside much of the stuff that we brought against bitter weather: you will not need it inside, nor, I hope when we come through and journey on down into the South. Instead each of us must take a share of what the pony carried especially the food and waterskins." I can see Sam getting angrier as Gandalf continues. Uh oh.
"But you can't leave poor old Bill behind in this forsaken place, Mr. Gandalf! I won't have it, and that's flat. After he has come so far and all!" Sam is very angry and distressed, but his hands still run smoothly and comfortingly over Bill's head. I put my boots back on and go around to him and place a hand on his shoulder as Gandalf continues.
"I am sorry, Sam, but when the Door opens I do not think you will be able to drag your Bill inside, into the long dark of Moria. You will have to choose between Bill and your master." I frown at Gandalf. That's not a nice thing to say.
"He'd follow Mr. Frodo into a dragon's den if I led him," protested Sam. "It'd be nothing short of murder to turn him loose with all these wolves about."
"It will be short of murder, I hope," Gandalf says quietly and comes over to where we stand. He lays his hand on Bill's head. "Go with words of guard and guiding on you," he says in a low voice. "You are a wise beast and have learned much in Rivendell. Make your ways to places where you can find grass, and so come in time to Elrond's house, or wherever you wish to go. There, Sam! He will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have."
Sam stands sullenly by Bill, not answering Gandalf. Bill puts his muzzle up to Sam's ear, comforting the Hobbit. Swear to god, that pony is almost human! Sam bursts into tears and after fumbling with the straps for a minute, throws Bill's packs to the ground. We start to divide up the equipment into what we're keeping, what we're throwing away, and what will be carried by who.
"Sam, don't worry about Bill," I whisper into his ear. He looks up at me, eyes still streaming unhappy tears. "I swear to you, Bill reaches home safely. I have read it!" Sam looks at me suspiciously. I grip his shoulder and shake him gently. "Would I lead you wrong about Bill? I rather like him myself, you know." Bill snorts and nibbles at my top. "Yeah, I love you too, you 'orrible beast. Now, quit that. I need this shirt." I stroke his nose and Bill whickers in amusement as he backs off.
"You swear it?" Sam asks me hoarsely, voice thickened with tears.
"Swear by whatever god you care to name. Now, let's get working. Speaking of working, where's that Elf? Or Gimli, for that matter." I look up to find the non-working members of the Fellowship, namely the wizard, the Elf and the Dwarf. Sam and I start to snicker at the picture the three present. Legolas has his ear up to the wall, running the palms of his hands absently over the stone, Gimli is tapping along it with the handle of his axe looking very serious indeed, and Gandalf is just staring at it. "Um. Well, they seem to be busy." The Hobbits, Boromir and I sit back, the work of sorting out what we need to take into the mines done.
"Well, here we are and all ready," Merry says, "but where are the doors? I don't see any sign of them."
"Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut," Gimli says in his gruff voice, stroking his beard slightly. "They are invisible, and their own masters cannot find them or open them, if their secret is forgotten."
"But this Door was not made to be a secret only to Dwarves," Gandalf says, coming to life suddenly. "Unless things are altogether changed, eyes that know what to look for may discover the signs." The wizard walks forward to where between the two huge holly trees is a smooth place. Gimli and Legolas step back to let the old man do what he would. He runs his hands over the surface of the stone, murmuring to it. Then he steps back. "Look! Can you see anything now?"
The door slowly appears, lines of silvery light glimmering. Although some of the lines of the decorations were blurred or broken, and occasionally in areas of the main door outline, the majority of the door appeared whole. Sam let out a soft sigh of wonder next to me as we looked at it.
"There are the emblems of Durin!" Gimli says.
"And there is the Tree of the High Elves!" Legolas adds.
"And the Star of the House of Feanor," Gandalf says, identifying the last of the decorations. "They are wrought of ithildin that mirrors only starlight and moonlight, and sleeps until it is touched by one who speaks words long forgotten in Middle Earth. It is long since I have heard them, and I thought deeply before I could recall them again."
"What does the writing say?" Frodo asks. "I thought I knew the elf letters, but I cannot read these."
"That makes two of us," I say to him absently. And here I sit, thinking I'd got pretty good over the months in Rivendell. Think again, Cat and don't be so presumptuous!
"The words are in the elven-tongue of the west of Middle-earth in the Elder Days," Gandalf answers. "But they do not say anything of importance. They say only : The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. And underneath small and faint is written: I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs."
"What does it mean by speak, friend and enter?" Merry asks.
I keep my mouth shut, though Boromir turns a thoughtful gaze on me. I am *not* saying a word. In spite of all puppy dog looks that might to seek to persuade me otherwise. Uh uh. Not a blinking, blooming, bloody word.
"That is plain enough," Gimli says easily. "If you are a friend, speak the password, the doors will open and you can enter."
"Yes," Gandalf says, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he gazes on the doors. "These doors are particularly governed by words. Some dwarf-gates will only open at special times, or for particular persons; and some have locks and keys that are still needed when all necessary times and words are known. These doors have no keys. In the days of Durin, they were not secret. They usually stood open and doorwards sat here. But if they were shut, any who knew the opening word could speak it and pass in. at least it is so recorded, is it not, Gimli?"
"It is," the dwarf says gruffly. "But what the word was is not remembered. Narvi and his craft and all his kin have vanished from this earth."
"But do not you know the word, Gandalf?" Boromir says in surprise.
"No!" Gandalf says bluntly.
Everyone except Aragorn registers some sort of shock. Merry and Pippin for once, are speechless. Even Legolas's Elven composure is shaken. Aragorn looks like a lump. Damn Elvish trained man. God, he pisses me off sometimes. He gets the arse holier then though look just as well as the Elves do, and he's not even Elvish! Bastard.
"Then what is the use of bringing us to this accursed spot?" Boromir asks, glancing back at the dark waters with a barely perceptible shudder.
I'm glad I know we get in. I really wouldn't like to walk all that way back. The water's disgusting.
"You told us that you had once passed through the Mines. How could that be, if you did not know how to enter?" Boromir continues.
"The answer to your first question, Boromir," Gandalf rumbles. "Is that I do not know the word - yet. But we shall soon see. And," he adds with a glint in his eyes (damn wizard), "you may ask what is the use of my deeds when they are proved useless. As for your other question: do you doubt my tale? Or do you have no wits left?" I bristle slightly and Boromir frowns. "I did not enter this way, I came from the East.
"If you wish to know, I will tell you that these doors open outwards. From the inside, you may thrust them open with your hands. From the outside nothing will move them save the spell of command. They cannot be forced inwards."
"What are you going to do then?" Pippin asks, undaunted by Gandalf's glower. Good for the hobbit.
"Knock on the doors with your head, Peregrin Took," Gandalf said. "But if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will seek for the opening words.
"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves or Men or Orcs that was ever used for such a purpose. I can still remember ten score of them without searching in my mind. But only a few trials, I think, will be needed; and I shall not have to call on Gimli for words of the secret dwarf- tongue that they teach to none. The opening words were Elvish, like the writing on the arch: that seems certain."
He steps up to the rock again, and lightly touched the center of the star with his staff.
"Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen! Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!" he says in a commanding voice. The silver lines fade, but the stone does not stir. The hobbits glance at one another and Boromir rests his head in his hands. Only Aragorn still looks unperturbed.
Gandalf keeps trying. He varies the pitch, the tone, the pace. He mixes the words around in different combinations. He tries other spells. He says single words of Elvish. Nothing happens. We just sit there getting colder and colder as the winds blow around us. I let Boromir wrap his arms around my waist and lean back into the warmth of his body. Finally, the wizard step up to the door and bashes the star with his staff.
"Edro! Edro!" he cries out in a wrathful voice. He follows it with every word that means 'open' in all the languages of Middle-earth. Then he throws his staff on the ground and sits in front of the door in silence.
The howling of wolves drifts in on the wind and Bill snorts and tosses his head uneasily. Sam springs to his feet and whispers softly to the frightened pony.
"Do not let him run away!" Boromir says. "It seems that we shall have need of him still, if the wolves do not find us. How I hate this foul pool!" He picks up a rock and throws it into the pool.
"Boromir, no!" I shout, too late. God, I should have read the books more carefully. In the movie, it's the hobbits. Obviously, in the books it was Boromir. Oh, goddamn.
He looks at me, startled as the stone vanished with a soft slap; but at the same instant, there was a swish and a bubble. Great rippling rings form on the surface out beyond where the stone had fallen and they move slowly towards the foot of the cliff.
"Why did you do that, Boromir?" Frodo asks fearfully. "I hate this place, too, and I am afraid. I don't know of what: not of wolves, or the dark behind the doors, but of something else. I am afraid of the pool. Don't disturb it!"
"What is it, Cat, love?" Boromir asks me as I watch the ripples move steadily towards us. "Did I do something ill?"
I don't answer him, I watch the waters.
"Cat?"
Suddenly, Gandalf leaps to his feet, laughing. An odd sound in this dark place. "I have it! Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer." Picking up his staff, he stands before the rock and says in a clear voice, "mellon!"
The star shines out briefly then fades. Then silently, the outline of a great door appears, thought it was not visible before. The stone cracks along the middle and swings outwards inch by inch until the two halves of the door lay flush with the stone walls. Through the opening, a shadowy stair can be seen climbing steeply up. Other then that, it's all veiled in impenetrable darkness, aside from the first few steps. The Fellowship stares in wonder, including me. It's so much more impressive to see in real life.
"I was wrong after all," Gandalf says. Whoa, I wish I had a video camera right now. The mighty, all knowing, all seeing Gandalf admits he's wrong! Something to record for posterity. "And Gimli too. Merry, all of people, was on the right track. The opening word was inscribed on the archway the whole time! The translation should have been : Say 'friend' and enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier days. Now let us go!"
He walks forward and lays his foot on the first step. Several things happen, all at the same moment. Frodo cries out in shock and fear, Bill neighs wildly in equine terror and gallops off along the shoreline, Sam leaps after the pony for a moment then hearing Frodo, runs back, weeping and cursing. The rest of the Fellowship swings around as I leap forward with same, knife out as the waters of the lake seethe, rippling like a bowlful of snakes.
A long sinous tentacle, pale green in color, had crawled out of the lake and seized Frodo by the ankle and was currently dragging him into the water. Sam slashes at it with his knife and I join him, teeth bared in a grimace of disgust. I grab Frodo's hands and pull him back to the shore, away from the waters as Sam stabs the fingered tentacle with his knife. Twenty other arms come rippling out, the waters boil and there is a terrible stench coming with it.
"Into the gateway! Up the stairs! Quick!" Gandalf shouts.
This breaks the paralysis that grips the other members of the Fellowship as I help Frodo back up to where everyone is standing, Sam running after me. Everyone runs inside the darkness of the mines. The two hobbits and I are barely a few steps inside and Gandalf has just begun to climb when the tentacles writhe across the shore and grip at the stone. One wriggles across the threshold and I stamp on it, it recoils as we three move faster away from it. Gandalf pauses for an instant, as if to try and remember what word will close the doors and shut the monster out but there is no need. The tentacles pull the doors across, slamming them shut with a horrible grinding crash, sealing us within the darkness of Morior. Sam clings to Frodo's arm as we collapse on a step in the blackness.
"Poor old Bill!" he says in a choked voice. "Poor old Bill! Wolves and snakes! But the snakes were too much for him. I had to choose, Mr Frodo. I had to come with you."
My heart aches for the two of them and I smooth Sam's hair back from his forehead.
"He'll be alright, Sam," I whisper as Gandalf goes down past us. I hear him set his staff against the doors, and they tremble, groaning slightly, but do not open. We have no other path now, but into the darkness. Into shadow. And into flame. I shudder slightly. "It'll be alright," I say then hide my head in my hands.
~*~*~*~
And whoa, has this chap been a long time coming. Thank you to the faithful, indeed!
DitzCat.
Gandalf stands up and strides forward, brandishing his staff. "Listen, Hound of Sauron! Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout if you come inside this ring." The Warg snarls at him, undecided, and then springs towards us in a great leap. I let out a short scream and try to scramble backwards, forgetting that I am already pressed up against Boromir as much as physically possible. And then the Warg collapses with Legolas' arrow in its throat.
"That was so not in the movie," I comment peevishly, a little ashamed of my fear. "I mean, look at the bugger. It's fricking *huge*. How am I meant to kill that?"
"You will. I'll watch your back," Boromir calmly reassures me. "Do not be ashamed of your fear, for you have not seen yet the evils this world contains."
"Right, no more whiny bitch moment. Sword, bow, arrows. All here and accounted for." I grip my weapons, sounding a lot more confident then I feel. Ack. That *thing* lying there in death is so large, and I wonder again, just how the *fuck* am I supposed to kill these things? I can but try. "Is it just me, or has that god awful howling stopped?"
"No, it's stopped," Merry tells me cheerfully.
"Good to see I'm not really going mad then, because I could have sworn they were doing the whole 'grr, I'm so evil, you just wait until I get up there' play a few minutes ago. Grr, bad dog." I look up at Aragon. "When's my watch, by the by?"
"Now, actually. Will you be alright to sit up by yourself?"
"Yep. Managed it all those other nights, days, whatevers haven't I? I see so much as a whiff of a Warg, I'll wake Boromir up." Aragon just nods and lays back down to sleep. Soon the others do the same, except for Boromir. "Sleep. I'll wake you if Wargs pour up the hill. Well, I'll probably wake everyone up with my hysterical screaming and incoherent babbling." Boromir nods and lays down, but I can see his eyes watching me. "See, sword, bow. I'm pretty well armed, and I managed to knock you onto your arse last week, so I think I'll live for at least the first few minutes until you get your sword and defend me." Boromir closes his eyes and I watch over the camp, moving around to make sure I stay awake. Nothing happens, until the moon starts to sink into the west and I can see Frodo stirring, but the others sleeping soundly. And then the howls start up again, and I can see the Wargs start to rush up the hill. "Wargs! They're attacking!" They all jump to their feet, grabbing blindly for weapons.
"Fling fuel on the fire!" Gandalf tells the Hobbits and I help them do that, deducing very rightly that my place here is behind the experienced fighters. "Draw your blades and stand back to back!"
The Hobbits quickly do that, and I join Legolas, nocking my bow and drawing the arrow back to my cheek, aim and let fly. The arrow thuds very finally into a Warg's chest, sending it arse over tip down the hill. The Wargs flow like gray shadows into the circle of stones, and mine and Legolas' bows sing as we let loose with a volley of shafts. Boromir hews the head off one of them, and Aragorn and Gimli are doing very well too.
Then suddenly, Gandalf seems to grow, and I have to drop my bow and draw my sword as a Warg leaps for my throat. I skewer it and it bites and thrusts itself further down on my sword as it tries to rip my throat out. "Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!" Gandalf cries out and the tree above him explodes into flame, very dramatic.
I jerk my sword arm back, and then quickly thrust back in as the Warg refuses to die. The fire leaps from treetop to treetop and the entire hillside is bathed in white light, and my sword gleams and flickers where it's not covered in blood. As the Warg finally shudders into death, I notice that the others weapons are doing the same, and Legolas' arrows look like they're on fire. His last arrow flies into the heart of a *huge* Warg, and the others turn tail and flee as this large one falls. I lean on my sword and wipe it shakily on the grass as the fire dies down and ashes dance on the wind. I look down at the Warg I have killed, and feel distinctly ill. I have never killed anything before. I very quietly make my way behind one of the stones and vomit up the food I ate last night. I wipe my mouth and lean back on my heels, still shaking inside.
"Do not worry. The first time I went into battle, I threw up afterwards as well." Boromir crouches down beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "It is one thing to talk, quite another to do. You did well today." He gives my shoulder a final pat and stands to go back to the group. I lean against the cool side of the stone and shudder as I fight the dry heaves that want to continue. As dawn rises fully, I stand and walk back inside the stone circle.
"Hey, didn't we kill a whole lot of these Warg things?" I look around puzzled. There's not a body to be seen, and only Legolas' arrows and mine litter the ground.
"It is as I feared," Gandalf says, and he looks distinctly worried. "These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. Let us eat quickly and go!" We gobble down food, and set off quickly after Legolas and Gandalf bind up minor wounds the company suffered. I hiss in pain as Legolas slathers lotion down my arms. The Warg last night ripped my arms to shreds with its nails, and I didn't even notice until Boromir pointed out the blood slowly seeping down my arms.
"Fuck!" I swear rather loudly. Legolas tuts at my language and bends back down to his task as I shiver in the early morning light, my shirt off so he can tend to my wounds better. "Hurry up, Legolas, I'm freezing." He just raises a delicate eyebrow at me, and goes back to being slow and thorough. I look over his shoulder into Boromir's annoyed eyes and I poke my tongue out at him. Sitting here half naked, wearing my pants and a bra is not my idea of fun when it's about ten degrees. Maybe when it's about twenty-five, and I'm about to lose more clothes, but not now, and not here. And the wrong guy, may I add.
"Would you prefer it if the scratches became infected?" Legolas asks me as he looks up from his bandaging for a moment.
"No, but I'm co-old!" I know I'm whining, but I am! It's fricking freezing in here, Mr. Bigglesworth! Legolas rises and steps away. "You done?"
"Yes. You can put your shirt back on."
"Thank god!" I pull my shirt gingerly over my head, grimacing slightly as the cloths pulls against the scratches. I get to my feet and gather up my pack and bow, as the Fellowship starts off. We have to go quickly, and reach the doors to Morior before dark. Gimli travels by Gandalf's side, he must want to meet his cousin or whatever, Balin. I don't have the heart to tell him that all the Dwarves who went into Morior are dead.
~*~*~*~
Finally we reach Morior's Gate. Well, where it should be anyway. I grip Pippin's shoulder and tell him very earnestly, and very quietly, "Don't you *dare* throw any rocks in the water, or I will personally flay you alive." He nods; looking a bit frightened. I pat his shoulder. Good.
"There are the Walls of Morior," Gandalf declares, pointing across the waters. "And there the Gate stood once upon a time, the Elven Door at the end of the road from Hollin by which we have come. But this way is blocked. None of the Company, I guess, will wish to swim this gloomy water at the end of the day. It has an unwholesome look."
"We must find a way round the northern edge," Gimli says. "The first thing for the Company to do is to climb up by the main path and see where that will lead us. Even if there were no lake, we could not get our baggage-pony up this stair."
"But in any case we cannot take the poor beast into the Mines," Gandalf says, looking back to where Sam stands with Bill. So it's bye-bye pony time. Pity. Bill is cuddlesome. "The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can."
"Poor old Bill!" Frodo remarks sadly. "I had not thought about that. And poor Sam! I wonder what he will say?"
"I am sorry," Gandalf says, placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Poor Bill has been a useful companion, and it goes to my heart to cut him adrift now. I would have traveled lighter and brought no animal, least of all this one that Sam is so fond of, if I had had my way. I feared all along that we should be obliged to take this road." With that, Gandalf turns and starts to lead us along the narrow, chipped pathway that runs alongside the lake. Sometimes we have to tread in and over little rivulets of dirty water. Ew. If this was home, I'd say go and find the evil global conglomerate that's cutting costs and ruining the environment, but there are no conglomerates here.
Finally we come to the northern edge of the lake and the sun is slipping from the sky. I stare in horror and disgust at the creek that flows, or rather crawls over our path. Green and stagnant, stinking like nothing I've ever smelt. Rotting vegetation and dead hopes. Gimli tests it, and it's shallow, so we start to make our way across it, scum covered water hiding slippery, scum covered rocks. "Ew." We start to pick our way across it and I curse as my boot slips off a rock and into a deeper patch of water with a splash. "Fuck!" Legolas glares at me. "Kiss my ass, Elf." I glare back. He looks back to the front and I glower at his back. This is just not a good day for me.
As Sam leads Bill, the last of the company up onto dry ground at the other end, I hear a plop, like a fish leaping out of the water, just a soft sound but as I whirl back to look across the lake, I see a series of ripples, great rings of them widening outward from a point far out in the lake. Badness. Great big monster in the water. A bubbling sound and Legolas frowns next to me as the lake subsides back into the dead stillness that has characterized it for most of today. Gandalf sets off quickly and we all follow him. Soon, we come upon dead holly trees, hundreds of them. Stumps and branches of them lie in the water, slowly rotting. But there is a sign of life in this dead land. Two great holly trees stand together under the cliffs, huge, immense, throwing dark shadows up the cliff face, and I hear Frodo gasp in astonishment beside me. Yep, they're damn big trees.
"Well, here we are at last!" Gandalf says semi-cheerfully. "Here the Elven- way from Hollin ended." Yada yada yada, Elves used to be friends with dwarves. Whoop-ti-fucking-do. I sit down on a rock and empty water out of my boots. Yuuccckkk.
"It was not the fault of Dwarves that the friendship waned," Gimli says gruffly, glaring daggers (or should that be axes?) at Legolas. Legolas straightens slowly.
"I have not heard it was the fault of the Elves." Legolas and Gimli go into full testosterone pissing contest mode. And they say women are emotional.
"I have heard both;" Gandalf cuts in, preventing almost certain bloodshed, "And I will not give judgment now. But I beg you both, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends," I hah scornfully at that, and Gandalf gives me a mild reproving glance, "and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!" Gandalf turns to the rest of us. "While I am searching, will you each make ready to enter the Mines? For here I fear we must say farewell to our good beast of burden. You must lay aside much of the stuff that we brought against bitter weather: you will not need it inside, nor, I hope when we come through and journey on down into the South. Instead each of us must take a share of what the pony carried especially the food and waterskins." I can see Sam getting angrier as Gandalf continues. Uh oh.
"But you can't leave poor old Bill behind in this forsaken place, Mr. Gandalf! I won't have it, and that's flat. After he has come so far and all!" Sam is very angry and distressed, but his hands still run smoothly and comfortingly over Bill's head. I put my boots back on and go around to him and place a hand on his shoulder as Gandalf continues.
"I am sorry, Sam, but when the Door opens I do not think you will be able to drag your Bill inside, into the long dark of Moria. You will have to choose between Bill and your master." I frown at Gandalf. That's not a nice thing to say.
"He'd follow Mr. Frodo into a dragon's den if I led him," protested Sam. "It'd be nothing short of murder to turn him loose with all these wolves about."
"It will be short of murder, I hope," Gandalf says quietly and comes over to where we stand. He lays his hand on Bill's head. "Go with words of guard and guiding on you," he says in a low voice. "You are a wise beast and have learned much in Rivendell. Make your ways to places where you can find grass, and so come in time to Elrond's house, or wherever you wish to go. There, Sam! He will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have."
Sam stands sullenly by Bill, not answering Gandalf. Bill puts his muzzle up to Sam's ear, comforting the Hobbit. Swear to god, that pony is almost human! Sam bursts into tears and after fumbling with the straps for a minute, throws Bill's packs to the ground. We start to divide up the equipment into what we're keeping, what we're throwing away, and what will be carried by who.
"Sam, don't worry about Bill," I whisper into his ear. He looks up at me, eyes still streaming unhappy tears. "I swear to you, Bill reaches home safely. I have read it!" Sam looks at me suspiciously. I grip his shoulder and shake him gently. "Would I lead you wrong about Bill? I rather like him myself, you know." Bill snorts and nibbles at my top. "Yeah, I love you too, you 'orrible beast. Now, quit that. I need this shirt." I stroke his nose and Bill whickers in amusement as he backs off.
"You swear it?" Sam asks me hoarsely, voice thickened with tears.
"Swear by whatever god you care to name. Now, let's get working. Speaking of working, where's that Elf? Or Gimli, for that matter." I look up to find the non-working members of the Fellowship, namely the wizard, the Elf and the Dwarf. Sam and I start to snicker at the picture the three present. Legolas has his ear up to the wall, running the palms of his hands absently over the stone, Gimli is tapping along it with the handle of his axe looking very serious indeed, and Gandalf is just staring at it. "Um. Well, they seem to be busy." The Hobbits, Boromir and I sit back, the work of sorting out what we need to take into the mines done.
"Well, here we are and all ready," Merry says, "but where are the doors? I don't see any sign of them."
"Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut," Gimli says in his gruff voice, stroking his beard slightly. "They are invisible, and their own masters cannot find them or open them, if their secret is forgotten."
"But this Door was not made to be a secret only to Dwarves," Gandalf says, coming to life suddenly. "Unless things are altogether changed, eyes that know what to look for may discover the signs." The wizard walks forward to where between the two huge holly trees is a smooth place. Gimli and Legolas step back to let the old man do what he would. He runs his hands over the surface of the stone, murmuring to it. Then he steps back. "Look! Can you see anything now?"
The door slowly appears, lines of silvery light glimmering. Although some of the lines of the decorations were blurred or broken, and occasionally in areas of the main door outline, the majority of the door appeared whole. Sam let out a soft sigh of wonder next to me as we looked at it.
"There are the emblems of Durin!" Gimli says.
"And there is the Tree of the High Elves!" Legolas adds.
"And the Star of the House of Feanor," Gandalf says, identifying the last of the decorations. "They are wrought of ithildin that mirrors only starlight and moonlight, and sleeps until it is touched by one who speaks words long forgotten in Middle Earth. It is long since I have heard them, and I thought deeply before I could recall them again."
"What does the writing say?" Frodo asks. "I thought I knew the elf letters, but I cannot read these."
"That makes two of us," I say to him absently. And here I sit, thinking I'd got pretty good over the months in Rivendell. Think again, Cat and don't be so presumptuous!
"The words are in the elven-tongue of the west of Middle-earth in the Elder Days," Gandalf answers. "But they do not say anything of importance. They say only : The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. And underneath small and faint is written: I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs."
"What does it mean by speak, friend and enter?" Merry asks.
I keep my mouth shut, though Boromir turns a thoughtful gaze on me. I am *not* saying a word. In spite of all puppy dog looks that might to seek to persuade me otherwise. Uh uh. Not a blinking, blooming, bloody word.
"That is plain enough," Gimli says easily. "If you are a friend, speak the password, the doors will open and you can enter."
"Yes," Gandalf says, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he gazes on the doors. "These doors are particularly governed by words. Some dwarf-gates will only open at special times, or for particular persons; and some have locks and keys that are still needed when all necessary times and words are known. These doors have no keys. In the days of Durin, they were not secret. They usually stood open and doorwards sat here. But if they were shut, any who knew the opening word could speak it and pass in. at least it is so recorded, is it not, Gimli?"
"It is," the dwarf says gruffly. "But what the word was is not remembered. Narvi and his craft and all his kin have vanished from this earth."
"But do not you know the word, Gandalf?" Boromir says in surprise.
"No!" Gandalf says bluntly.
Everyone except Aragorn registers some sort of shock. Merry and Pippin for once, are speechless. Even Legolas's Elven composure is shaken. Aragorn looks like a lump. Damn Elvish trained man. God, he pisses me off sometimes. He gets the arse holier then though look just as well as the Elves do, and he's not even Elvish! Bastard.
"Then what is the use of bringing us to this accursed spot?" Boromir asks, glancing back at the dark waters with a barely perceptible shudder.
I'm glad I know we get in. I really wouldn't like to walk all that way back. The water's disgusting.
"You told us that you had once passed through the Mines. How could that be, if you did not know how to enter?" Boromir continues.
"The answer to your first question, Boromir," Gandalf rumbles. "Is that I do not know the word - yet. But we shall soon see. And," he adds with a glint in his eyes (damn wizard), "you may ask what is the use of my deeds when they are proved useless. As for your other question: do you doubt my tale? Or do you have no wits left?" I bristle slightly and Boromir frowns. "I did not enter this way, I came from the East.
"If you wish to know, I will tell you that these doors open outwards. From the inside, you may thrust them open with your hands. From the outside nothing will move them save the spell of command. They cannot be forced inwards."
"What are you going to do then?" Pippin asks, undaunted by Gandalf's glower. Good for the hobbit.
"Knock on the doors with your head, Peregrin Took," Gandalf said. "But if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will seek for the opening words.
"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves or Men or Orcs that was ever used for such a purpose. I can still remember ten score of them without searching in my mind. But only a few trials, I think, will be needed; and I shall not have to call on Gimli for words of the secret dwarf- tongue that they teach to none. The opening words were Elvish, like the writing on the arch: that seems certain."
He steps up to the rock again, and lightly touched the center of the star with his staff.
"Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen! Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!" he says in a commanding voice. The silver lines fade, but the stone does not stir. The hobbits glance at one another and Boromir rests his head in his hands. Only Aragorn still looks unperturbed.
Gandalf keeps trying. He varies the pitch, the tone, the pace. He mixes the words around in different combinations. He tries other spells. He says single words of Elvish. Nothing happens. We just sit there getting colder and colder as the winds blow around us. I let Boromir wrap his arms around my waist and lean back into the warmth of his body. Finally, the wizard step up to the door and bashes the star with his staff.
"Edro! Edro!" he cries out in a wrathful voice. He follows it with every word that means 'open' in all the languages of Middle-earth. Then he throws his staff on the ground and sits in front of the door in silence.
The howling of wolves drifts in on the wind and Bill snorts and tosses his head uneasily. Sam springs to his feet and whispers softly to the frightened pony.
"Do not let him run away!" Boromir says. "It seems that we shall have need of him still, if the wolves do not find us. How I hate this foul pool!" He picks up a rock and throws it into the pool.
"Boromir, no!" I shout, too late. God, I should have read the books more carefully. In the movie, it's the hobbits. Obviously, in the books it was Boromir. Oh, goddamn.
He looks at me, startled as the stone vanished with a soft slap; but at the same instant, there was a swish and a bubble. Great rippling rings form on the surface out beyond where the stone had fallen and they move slowly towards the foot of the cliff.
"Why did you do that, Boromir?" Frodo asks fearfully. "I hate this place, too, and I am afraid. I don't know of what: not of wolves, or the dark behind the doors, but of something else. I am afraid of the pool. Don't disturb it!"
"What is it, Cat, love?" Boromir asks me as I watch the ripples move steadily towards us. "Did I do something ill?"
I don't answer him, I watch the waters.
"Cat?"
Suddenly, Gandalf leaps to his feet, laughing. An odd sound in this dark place. "I have it! Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer." Picking up his staff, he stands before the rock and says in a clear voice, "mellon!"
The star shines out briefly then fades. Then silently, the outline of a great door appears, thought it was not visible before. The stone cracks along the middle and swings outwards inch by inch until the two halves of the door lay flush with the stone walls. Through the opening, a shadowy stair can be seen climbing steeply up. Other then that, it's all veiled in impenetrable darkness, aside from the first few steps. The Fellowship stares in wonder, including me. It's so much more impressive to see in real life.
"I was wrong after all," Gandalf says. Whoa, I wish I had a video camera right now. The mighty, all knowing, all seeing Gandalf admits he's wrong! Something to record for posterity. "And Gimli too. Merry, all of people, was on the right track. The opening word was inscribed on the archway the whole time! The translation should have been : Say 'friend' and enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier days. Now let us go!"
He walks forward and lays his foot on the first step. Several things happen, all at the same moment. Frodo cries out in shock and fear, Bill neighs wildly in equine terror and gallops off along the shoreline, Sam leaps after the pony for a moment then hearing Frodo, runs back, weeping and cursing. The rest of the Fellowship swings around as I leap forward with same, knife out as the waters of the lake seethe, rippling like a bowlful of snakes.
A long sinous tentacle, pale green in color, had crawled out of the lake and seized Frodo by the ankle and was currently dragging him into the water. Sam slashes at it with his knife and I join him, teeth bared in a grimace of disgust. I grab Frodo's hands and pull him back to the shore, away from the waters as Sam stabs the fingered tentacle with his knife. Twenty other arms come rippling out, the waters boil and there is a terrible stench coming with it.
"Into the gateway! Up the stairs! Quick!" Gandalf shouts.
This breaks the paralysis that grips the other members of the Fellowship as I help Frodo back up to where everyone is standing, Sam running after me. Everyone runs inside the darkness of the mines. The two hobbits and I are barely a few steps inside and Gandalf has just begun to climb when the tentacles writhe across the shore and grip at the stone. One wriggles across the threshold and I stamp on it, it recoils as we three move faster away from it. Gandalf pauses for an instant, as if to try and remember what word will close the doors and shut the monster out but there is no need. The tentacles pull the doors across, slamming them shut with a horrible grinding crash, sealing us within the darkness of Morior. Sam clings to Frodo's arm as we collapse on a step in the blackness.
"Poor old Bill!" he says in a choked voice. "Poor old Bill! Wolves and snakes! But the snakes were too much for him. I had to choose, Mr Frodo. I had to come with you."
My heart aches for the two of them and I smooth Sam's hair back from his forehead.
"He'll be alright, Sam," I whisper as Gandalf goes down past us. I hear him set his staff against the doors, and they tremble, groaning slightly, but do not open. We have no other path now, but into the darkness. Into shadow. And into flame. I shudder slightly. "It'll be alright," I say then hide my head in my hands.
~*~*~*~
And whoa, has this chap been a long time coming. Thank you to the faithful, indeed!
DitzCat.