Midyears are over!  YAY!

Thanks to the Reviewers:

This time I'll thank the new reviewers first. 

Mia: thanx for the support and I hope you'll read on! 

ElvenWitch13: thank you so much for coming back!  Don't worry, I have plenty of humor coming up. . . for example Angel is gonna have bad hair days with the fellowship.

Dark Queen:  Thank you for the suggestion about Angel's age.  I thought it over, and I think you have a point.  I'll make her a year older then, how does that sound?  Eighteen isn't that much older than seventeen, but it is a little better at least.  I can't make her any older because then that would mean that she's in college and that would just make more trouble for me as the author.  You said that Angel is wise beyond her years, but I didn't intend for her to be because Angel is a little reckless and impetuous.  I think that would fit Kendall more.

Lady Arwen:  Thanks a lot for reviewing!  Yes, I thought that it would be cool to combine my favorite books and TV show together.  Charmed is the only TV show that I watch regularly.  

And now back to my old reviewers.

Nikki:  You know what?  I think that I could actually get away with writing on the laptop during class.  I mean, I see other kids type up notes on their laptops all the time.  What do you and Margaret have fourth hour?  Do you two read my story during class or something, because that's how it sounds.

Salem:  Hey, you came back!!  YAY!  As for the issue of when the Fellowship is gonna find out about Angel being a witch, I haven't thought about that yet.  Of course, they have to find out eventually, but like Kendall said, it wouldn't be safe for the others to know, at least not yet.  BTW: Come back soon!  I love readers who do that!

Songbreeze1125:  Lol.  Yes, it was kinda weird how I just happened to update right after you reviewed.  But then again, that's just what happens when you review.  looks meaningfully at everyone else  I was just about to post, but decided to check the reviews first in case there were more reviewers for me to reply to before I posted the chapter.  Rapier, huh?  I'll have to look that up in the dictionary first. 

roos:  You came back too!!  Yes, I have been watching season 6 of Charmed, but unfortunately, every once in a while I miss an episode, so my knowledge of recent events is rather spotty.  I missed last week's episode, but I heard that it was really good, so if you could tell me about it, that'd be great.  Maybe I should hold another vote to see if I should just let Boromir get killed off.   I feel so powerful.  voice suddenly becomes like Galadriel when Frodo offers her the Ring in Lothlorien  I am the almighty author, and I get to determine the fates of the characters.  I decide who lives and who dies. . . and who falls in love with who.  I choose who stubs their toe and who gets a pimple on their nose.  Mwaaaah-haaaa-haaaaa – cough cough (Damn the flu bug!)– haaa-haaa!!!  voice turns back to normal  okay, got a little carried away. . .  I'll try to finish the next chapter soon.

Nikki (again):  Ok, chill!  I'm getting all my chapters out pretty quickly compared to some other authors.  Plus I just got my midterms over with.  But thanks for the support, you really egg me on!

You guys rock my world!  I must have died and gone to author heaven to get reviewers

like you people.

BTW: Does anybody know how to get italics in?  I use italics when I type, but for some reason, it never shows when I post.  But I see for other authors it does, so what am I doing wrong?

Ch. 5

Remembrance and a Plot Against Love

"It is done," said Belthazor.  "One of the Charmed Ones is in Middle-earth."  The demon was standing before a tall menacing figure cloaked in red.  His face was overcast beneath the folds of a hood, but Belthazor could sense the pitiless eyes watching him, reading his thoughts and his moods.  The Source.  The Lord the Underworld.  Like all demons in the Underworld, Belthazor both feared and respected him, but as he had once been the Source himself, he knew that he wasn't indestructible. 

"You are a faithful servant, Belthazor," spoke a deep voice from beneath the hood.  "But tell me, which of the Charmed Ones have you lured into the past?"

Belthazor bowed his head, and replied, "The youngest.  I chose her because she is the most rash of the three, and the least experienced."  He waited for his master's answer in silence. 

The Source nodded in approval.  "You choose wisely.  The Charmed Ones will find that they have no way out of this trap.  Whichever path they choose, their doom is inevitable.  My plan has been set into motion."  He drew a deep breath , and Belthazor thought that the air had suddenly gone chill.  "However, one thing puzzles me."

Belthazor looked up.  "And what may that be, my Lord?"

"Why have you not attacked yet?  At this point, the Ringbearer and the youngest Halliwell are most vulnerable.  You may attack either of them, and our purpose will be fulfilled."

"They are not as defenseless as you think.  The Fellowship has only just departed Rivendell, and the Company's bond is still strong.  The corruption has not yet begun to destroy them.  As for the witch, she is well able to defend herself and the wizard Gandalf is aware of us and our purpose and he will protect her."

"Then when do you plan to strike?"

Belthazor recognized the subtle impatience and replied, "Haste would be foolish.  The wizard will fall.  By then the evil of the Ring will have begun its work on the Fellowship, and Frodo will become more unprotected.  But even then, I do not plan to attack.  The Seer has told me that the witch will fall in love with one of the Fellowship."

The Source smiled inwardly to himself as he understood.  This was why Belthazor was his right hand demon, because he understood humans so well, and knew how to use that kind of knowledge.  "Love can be a powerful tool, when it is used properly," he commented. 

"Yes, my Lord.  Her love will blind her, and make her open to attack.  She will not recognize danger when she sees it, and when she does, it will be too late.  Her death will break the Power of Three for good, and the world will be ours for the taking."

"All we must do then is watch and wait for the right moment."  The Source watched as his servant nodded.  "You have done well, Belthazor.  I want you to go back to Middle-earth now and keep a close watch on the witch and the Fellowship.  I will summon you if need be."

Belthazor bowed as a portal opened to his left and stepped through.

"Angel?" asked a soft voice.

"Hmm?" replied Angel sleepily with her eyes closed.  She was already half asleep, and reluctant to leave the quiet comfort of slumber.

"Never mind.  Go to sleep now," said Legolas.  He had only called her to see if she was awake.  In the darkness of Khazad-dum, it was hard to tell, even with his sharp elvish eyes. 

The Fellowship had walked through the mines for days, and as of yet, the trek had been uneventful, and for that they were grateful.  At the moment they had paused for a few hours, waiting for Gandalf to decide which path they should take. 

Legolas looked down at Angel who was sleeping with her head against his shoulder, her head bowed and her face framed between two curtains of long black hair.  Ever since the Fellowship had left the refuge of Rivendell, Legolas had taken the girl under his wing, as it was his instinct to watch out for those weaker than him.  

Angel crossed the barrier between wakefulness and slumber, but she did not find the comfort she had been seeking.  Past memories were returning to her.  Memories of her parents. . .

She was looking into a room from between a doorway.  She recognized it as the Halliwell parlor back in San Francisco where they used to live, but it wasn't quite as she remember it.  People were hanging up streamers and blowing up balloons, chattering with cheerful voices unburdened by the sorrow of a tragedy that would soon come to pass.  A woman with shoulder-length brown hair was standing on a chair with her back to Angel, pinning up a holographic banner bearing the words "Happy Birthday!" in large bold letters.

Even though she was asleep, Angel knew that the past had come back to haunt her.  This memory was an important one, she wouldn't be dreaming about it otherwise. . . Then she was hit with a sudden realization.  It was the day that her parents died. . . the same day as Adrian's tenth birthday party.  Angel stood there, staring at the back of her head with an overwhelming feeling of  both joy and terrible sadness.  She knew what would happen to that woman within the next few hours.

"Mom?" called Angel in a barely audible whisper.   

She turned slightly, and for a split second in which her heart stopped, Angel thought that she had heard her.  But instead, the woman looked down and said, "Matthew, I need another pin."

Matthew.  Her father's name. 

A tall man with black hair and hazel eyes walked over to her and held up a small silver object in his hand.  Angel stared at her father's face.  He looked almost identical to Adrian.  Angel could have easily mistaken him for her brother if she did not knew that this was just a memory. 

The woman bent down to take it and as she did, Angel caught a glimpse of her face.  There was no doubt about it.  She had not seen that face since she was seven, but she saw the resemblance every time she saw her own reflection. 

"Thanks, honey," said the woman as she stuck the pin into the wall and got down from the chair.  She turned to her husband and said, "So, where's the kids?"

 He opened his mouth to reply, but just then there was a loud yell and two boys ran from the kitchen, weaving in and out through the adults decorating the walls and arranging food on the table.  One of them had blond hair and blue eyes, and the other jet black hair and hazel eyes.  They were holding a doll each, and looked over their shoulders as they ran.  Both were laughing mischievously. 

Angel moved away from the doorway so that they could pass, and felt a jolt of surprise. She was looking at Wyatt and Adrian, as they were twelve years ago.  Adrian was only two years younger than Wyatt, but they were about the same height in this memory.  But something was different about them here that Angel didn't remember seeing in them, something that she couldn't quite place.  They had a quality that Adrian and Wyatt were lacking now. 

"Adrian!  Give us back our dolls!" shrieked a voice from behind them.  Angel turned in time to see a eight-year old Kendall leading another smaller girl with sleek black hair and royal blue eyes who was screaming at the top of her lungs.  They were following the boys, and as they passed Angel realized who the smaller girl was.  It was her. 

The two girls had it too, that same quality that seemed to be missing in their future selves.  Angel wondered what it was.  But somehow she was sure that these children had lost that trait this fateful day in the past. 

As the two children ran past the doorway, Angel held her hand out, almost as though she wanted to touch her six year old self, but before she could, the scene changed. . . she was in an abandoned construction site. . . a giant crane loomed six stories high above . . . her parents were facing a creature with green-tinged skin.  His face looked like a skull with a thin layer of skin stretched tightly over it.  Angel knew what it was.  Necron, a skeletal being that hovered between life and death, feeding off the life force of other living beings.  She stood frozen with horror and watched Necron shoot an incinerating blue-white energy ball at her parents.

Angel felt someone shaking her shoulder gently.  Her eyes snapped open as she the dream ended abruptly.  The construction site vanished, and she was now staring into the face of Legolas.  He looked concerned.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" replied Angel sharply. 

Legolas looked away.  "You were crying."

Angel reached up to her eyes with one hand.  Sure enough, there were tearstains on her face.  She hastily wiped them away, embarrassed that the Prince of Mirkwood had seen her crying in her sleep.  'Damn me.  I can't control my emotions even when I'm asleep.'

She got up, brushing herself off and pulled her hood over her head so no one would see the tears.  Avoiding Legolas's gaze, she focused her attention on Gandalf, who was looking down a dark passageway. 

"The air down here is less foul," the wizard commented.  "When in doubt, always follow your nose."

As they followed the wizard, Angel tried desperately to grasp back some of the fleeting shreds of the memory.  But what had been so clear just moments ago was fading fast.  Soon it was all gone and all Angel had left was a feeling of frustration and grief. 

But the dream had not been for nothing.  Among the emotions of loss and anger, Angel felt a new emotion surface – determination.  Determination to find out how her parents had died.  If she could just have that memory back, maybe the past would stop haunting her. 

Now the question was how.  Angel searched through her mind for a spell – any spell that could help her remember.  But she had never bothered to memorize any spells, the Book of Shadows had always been there whenever she needed any spell for any purpose.  And now she didn't have it.  

But that setback didn't daunt her.  She would write her own spell.

Wyatt stood before the podium on which the Book of Shadows lay.  He flipped through the Book, searching for a spell to vanquish a familiar warlock.  They had been attacked by one only a while ago, and though he had retreated, they were sure that he would be back any moment now.  A loud crash from downstairs followed by Adrian's cry of "Wyatt, hurry up!" justified their guess. 

Finally, the Whitelighter found what he had been looking for.  He skimmed through quickly to make sure he had the right spell and then orbed downstairs with the Book. 

When he reappeared, the first thing he saw was Adrian getting thrown backwards over the kitchen table.  The table crashed over as he made impact with a loud thud.  Wyatt caught sight of the warlock charging towards him with an energy ball ready in his hand.  Orbing himself next to Adrian, the whitelighter formed a blue-white force shield around them both.  The warlock crashed into the barrier and was instantly thrown back with a painful shock.  He lay there, stunned and dazed while Adrian and Wyatt read the vanquish. 

Nine times this evil's cheated death,


Felt no pain and kept its breath.

This warlock standing in our midst,

Let him feel what he has missed.

The warlock screamed in agony as it burst into flames before disappearing in a thin wisp of smoke. 

Once he was gone, Wyatt deactivated the protective shield and stood facing his cousin, offering a hand to help him up.

But Adrian coldly ignored it, making it clear that their fight was not over with yet.  Wyatt stared at him.

"Adrian, if you're still pissed because Angel was chosen for this job –"

"She can take care of herself, I know that, but how are we going to hold up without her?"

Wyatt was slightly taken by surprise.  So now he was concerned about them instead of Angel? 

"It's only been a few weeks since she's been gone, and we're getting attacked 24/7.  How much longer do you think it's going to be before we're taken down?"  Adrian shook his head.  "And worse than that, me and Kendall have to go back to college next Monday, and how the hell are we supposed to keep up with these attacks there?"

Their conversation was cut short as the front door slammed shut.  Kendall walked into the dining room, and stared at the overturned table and broken glass on the floor.

She cocked an eyebrow and asked very calmly, "Did I miss something while I was gone?"

Both men turned to her.

"Just another attack by a familiar warlock," answered Adrian casually, as if this happened everyday (which was close enough to the truth now). 

"Okay, I see that the warlock is gone, which means one less evil we have to worry about," said Kendall, stepping carefully around the shards of glass on the tile floor.  Her Empath power was kicking in again, and she could sense the tension coming from both of them.  Kendall knew that she must have walked in on another argument, but chose not to ask about it.  This was between Adrian and Wyatt to work out. 

Kendall telekinetically flipped the table right-side-up again and used a quick flick of her wrist to direct all the glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room. 

"Well, since me and Adrian are leaving on Monday, we'll both need charms to protect ourselves from getting attacked in the middle of class," stated Kendall a-matter-of-factly.  "I'm going to see if I can make one for the job."  She turned and climbed upstairs toward the attic where all the potion supplies were kept. 

Adrian did not meet Wyatt's eyes as he followed to help Kendall.

Angel walked into the chamber cautiously.  They had followed Gandalf until they came upon a chamber, not very big, about the size of an average classroom.  But inside there was a large block of white stone, and a single shaft of blue light fell upon it from above, where there seemed to be a gap in the roof of Moria. 

She looked at Gimli sadly.  He was kneeling beside the block, his head bowed and speaking in Dwarvish in a way that sounded much like a prayer.  The block of stone was a tomb, the tomb of Balin, Gimli's cousin.  Angel took a quick look at the room and turned in disgust.  There were skeletons strewn all over the floor.  

The Fellowship entered the chamber of Balin's tomb.  Gandalf stood behind Gimli, and read the runes engraved on the stone.  "Here lies Balin son of Fundin, Lord of Moria."  The wizard sighed wearily.  "He is dead then.  It is as I feared."  He left Gimli's side and bent down to pick up a book clasped in the arms of a skeleton.  Brushing it off quickly, he opened it and read, "They have taken the bridge and the second hall.  We have barred the bridge, but cannot hold for long.  The ground shakes.  Drums. . . drums in the deep.  We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark.  We cannot get out. . . They are coming."

Angel walked around as the wizard read from the book, shuddering as she imagined the terrifying deaths of these Dwarves.  Trapped in their own home, hundreds of feet beneath the surface of the earth, never to see the light again.  She wanted to get out of here. 

Suddenly there was a creaking sound, then a loud crash that resonated through the empty stillness.  Angel felt her heart give an unpleasant jump as she froze at the deafening noise.  She looked to the direction from which it came and saw a petrified Pippin standing next to a round hole in the middle of the chamber and realized that he had knocked something down the deep well.  Angel waited, listening for the objects to hit bottom.  But it never came. Following the crash there was cold silence.  No one moved until Gandalf slammed the book shut and strode over to the terrified hobbit, snapping angrily, "Next time throw yourself in, and rid us of your stupidity."

Angel let out a breath that she had unknowingly held.  Then suddenly there came a faint drumbeat far off in the distance, barely audible.  Doom, doom. 

The Fellowship tensed and it came again, louder this time.  Doom, doom.  Angel's mind went back to the last words of the Dwarves.  'Drums. . . drums in the deep.'  This was what they had meant.  Were they going to meet the same fate as them?  'We cannot get out.'  They were trapped, just like those Dwarves. 

Doom, doom.  It was louder this time, and this time, harsh raucous cries mingled in with the pulsating beats. 

"Orcs!" cried Legolas. 

Angel groaned.  Orcs?  'Don't I just have the best luck?'  

Boromir ran to the doors and looked out, only to pull back sharply as two black-feathered arrows embedded themselves into the old wood, scarcely missing him.  Together, he and Aragorn pulled the heavy gates shut.  Legolas tossed them axes to bar the doors with.  As soon as the doors were firmly shut, they retreated and drew their swords. 

"Stay close to Gandalf!" ordered Aragorn to the hobbits as they slowly drew their blades.  Frodo's blade Sting was gleaming cold blue.  Angel herself pulled the long knife from its scabbard, weighing it in her hands as she contemplated how she was supposed to use it.  'Random stabbing like last time, I guess.'

The walls shook as the beats grew louder.  The hobbits were gathered around Gandalf, who held Glamdring in his hand.  Boromir held his sword and shield at the ready.  Aragorn and Legolas were both fitting arrows to their bowstrings, while Gimli stood on the tomb of Balin with his axe.

"Let them come," he growled.  "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

The orc shrieks became louder than ever, and sounded as though they were right outside the door. 

There came a crash on the door, and it shook, but held firm.  Angel could hear the screeching orcs outside pounding at the gates.  A small crack formed in the wood and she felt an arrow whistling past her, flying through the gap in the door.  It was followed by a hideous cry on the other side.  The doors endured crash after crash, and each time it shuddered more violently than before.  Finally a thunderous pound split the barrier open, and orcs flooded into the chamber.  Legolas released one shaft after another, faster than any eye could follow.  Gimli, standing on top of the stone block, swung his axe at any orc that dared come near Balin's tomb.  Angel knew that he was partly fueled by grief.  She knew what that felt like. . .

The hobbits were defending themselves the best that they could, and Angel was slightly surprised by their fierce attacks.  What had once been peaceful quiet Shire-folk were now fighters.  When that change had occurred, she didn't know. 

Angel felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and on instinct, she swung around and stabbed.  She watched with grim satisfaction as the orc squealed and fell to the floor in a heap.  Pulling the knife back, she paused for a brief second to stare in repulsion at the black blood staining the blade.  'Why can't they just blow up nicely like demons do?'

Legolas released another arrow and reloaded while watching Angel with his peripheral vision.   She looked panicked, but that was hardly surprising. 

And in truth, Angel was scared, completely terrified of these monstrous beings.  She knew that she shouldn't be, she had seen and dealt with worse, but in a way, trapped in the mines of Moria with hundreds of orcs was worse than facing demons.  And the thought of dying in a different time realm made it even worse. 

But she had volunteered for this, and she wasn't about to back down now.  'And,' she thought as she swiped the blade across the throat of an orc, 'random stabbing doesn't seem like a bad tactic to use.'

Angel haphazardly ran through anything that came within range.  She wasn't making a very neat job of it, each time it took about three or four thrusts to effectively take down one of them. 

An thunderous growl riveted the air.  Time seemed to stand still as the Fellowship froze and stopped fighting.  Some orcs were entering the chamber, leading a huge beast in on chains.  It had leathery gray skin and a rather small by proportion head perched on top of massive shoulders.  It walked in a hunched position with long arms that almost touched the ground.  The orcs released their hold on the chains and the beast began flailing the chains around like a lash.  It struck the stone on which Gimli was standing on, but the Dwarf jumped off in time as Legolas let fly several arrows at the creature.  The troll roared in agony and began lashing out the chain at the Elf. 

Legolas ducked the whip and on the second time, the chain was wrapped around a stone pillar.  The Elf nimbly ran across the taut chain and jumped onto the troll's head.  He kept his balance and fired two shafts between his feet at its head despite the fact that the troll was trying to shake him off. 

Angel stared in amazement at the Elf's daring.  'And I thought he was just hot.' 

The troll grabbed up a long spear from the ground and trust it out at Frodo.  The hobbit was caught between the point and the wall.  He let out a strangled gasp of pain, and the entire Fellowship stopped in their tracks at his cry.  The fury in Merry and Pippin seemed to have been ignited at the sight of their friend's dilemma.  If Angel thought she had seen how hobbits fought when enraged, she was wrong. 

The pair gave a grief-stricken cry and threw themselves onto the troll as if they did not care how much danger they were putting themselves in.  They afflicted a series of sharp stabs before it threw off Merry.

Angel stepped forward and plunged her knife deep into the troll's tough leathery skin.  She wrenched it out again and dark blood bled from the wound, hitting the ground with a faint sizzle.  The troll swung around and one of its long arms knocked the witch over.  She landed about ten feet away and when she opened her eyes, the troll was snarling menacingly in her face. 

Angel wrinkled her nose at his hot pungent breath.  It smelled like rotten meat.  A blow from nowhere swiped the knife from her hand and the troll held the spear point in front of her face. 

Angel felt something sharp under her.  She reached behind her back and touched the cold steel of a broken blade.  Just what she needed.  Bringing the shard out, she flung it as hard as she could into the troll's face and fought down the feeling of nausea when it buried itself into one of its yellow eyes.  "Ugh."

The huge animal was thrown into a frenzy.  It clawed at its bloody eye, screaming with unmistakable wrath.  Angel scrambled out from under it, unable to take her eyes off of the enraged creature.  Legolas pulled her to her feet and handed her the knife.  He strung a final arrow to his bowstring and released it.  The well aimed shaft  struck the troll's face, and with a final moan, it collapsed with an earthshaking crash.

The Fellowship approached the fallen creature cautiously, as though wary it would get up again.  Sam and Aragorn knelt beside Frodo, who was lying facedown as though dead.  "Oh, no," said Aragorn as he turned him over.

Frodo gasped and said, "It's okay, I'm alright."

Aragorn sighed in relief.  "You should be dead.  That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"Well, I'm glad to say that it hasn't skewered me in any case."  Then he unbuttoned his shirt hesitantly to reveal a corset of silver mail. 

"Mithril," breathed Gimli in awe.  "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins." 

The Fellowship looked up with restricted breaths as the distinct cries of orcs pierced the air again.  More of them were coming. 

Gandalf realized their present danger and ordered quickly, "To the Bridge of Khazad-dum."

They fled out the east door, even as the orcs behind them entered the chamber that they left.  Hundreds of thousands of orcs scuttled down the huge pillars of Dwarrowdelf like spiders, racing up ahead to cut off their escape.  The Fellowship continued running until finally they were flanked by orcs on all sides.  The foul creatures hissed and snarled, jabbing their spears and blades at them.

Angel knew that even if she dared use her powers, it would be nothing short of impossible to freeze thousands of orcs long enough for them to escape.  Or perhaps she should try to think of a impromptu spell, but she was no good at inventing incantations under pressure, and spells created on the spot for emergencies didn't always work the way they were intended. 

Just when she began to think that there was no way out of this, there came a low rumble in the distance.  A faint red-orange glow illuminated the depths of the great hall, growing steadily brighter as if some ominous danger was approaching.  Angel stared at it in mounting apprehension, as the air around them become stiflingly warm. 

The orcs quailed and fled back up the tall pillars from whence they came until the Fellowship was once again left alone in the vast corridor. 

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked Gandalf.

"A Balrog, demon of the ancient world.  This foe is beyond any of you.  Run!"

As if snapped out of their trance, the Fellowship took flight.  They came to the end of the hall, and sprinted across a narrow stone bridge.  A seemingly bottomless abyss seemed to stretch under it. 

"Fly!  Over the bridge!  Fly!" shouted Gandalf. 

Angel chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw what looked like a  blazing fire blocking the archway.  The flames loomed up to the curved arch.  A creature of shadow and flames emerged from the inferno.  Shadowy wings were stretched out on either side of its body.  In one clawed hand it held a whip of fire. 

Angel stopped for a brief moment before she found the willpower to tear her gaze away from the demon and continue running.  Suddenly an arrow whistled past her ear and lodged itself into the ground, narrowly missing her.  Angel looked up as more arrows rained down on them.  Orcs were shooting at them from above. 

'Man, these guys really hate us.'

Angel was already on the other side of the bridge when Gandalf's shout reached her ears.  She turned and saw the wizard standing on the stone overpass facing the fiery demon. 

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor.  Go back to the Shadow!"

The Balrog cracked its whip against the side of the bridge and leapt forward. 

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf raised his staff and brought it down upon the stone.  A blaze of white flame rose up from the place where his staff struck.  There was a resounding crack as the bridge split at that point.  The Balrog shrieked and plunged down into the void. 

The wizard waited for a moment before turning to join the rest of the Fellowship.  But even as the demon fell, it flicked its whip one last time and it wrapped itself around the wizard's ankle and pulled him over the brink.  For a moment, Gandalf clawed vainly at the edge, and seeing the Fellowship hesitating, he gave a final cry, "Fly, you fools!" and slid into the abyss. 

"NO!" cried Frodo.  "Gandalf!"

Aragorn stared at the place where Gandalf had fallen in disbelief.

Boromir picked up Frodo and called to Aragorn, "Come, Aragorn.  We must heed his last command."

Boromir's voice seemed to shake Aragorn back to his senses and he turned and fled up the stairs and out into the light of day.

Um. . .would you like to review now?

Thanks to the Reviewers: 

Lady Light:  You were sick and still stayed up late to read my fic?  How sweet of you!  Anyway, get well soon and come back for more!

Roos:  yeah, I got the email.  Where exactly is Holland?  Is it in Europe?  If that was a really dumb question, just ignore it. lol.  Oh, and right after I replied to the email, I got all these great ideas for this chapter.  Hmm. . . Maybe you really are my muse.  But if you're my muse, that would make me your charge, right?  Just a thought. 

Salem:  yes, back again I see.  Yes, it was innocence.  This will be a slightly gory chapter, but this chapter is very important too.  Interested yet?  Then skip all my endless drivel and proceed to the story!  Oh!  You also asked when the Fellowship was gonna find out about Angel's powers in one of your reviews.  It's going to be a very gradual thing. 

ElvenWitch13:  Hey, you got the question right.  Yes, it was innocence but looks around and holds a finger to her mouth shhhhh!  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention this about your last review.  WHAT THE HECK DO YOU MEAN LEGOLAS IS ALL YOURS?!?!?!  If I had Leggy all to myself, I'd SHARE at least!  crosses her fingers behind her back   Midterms are over with, thank God.  I have all my grades back already, and I am very satisfied with all of them except for English. 

Songbreeze1125:  I was afraid that the recollection was a bit sappy, but I'm glad you thought it was sweet.  And yes, you got the innocence thing right too.  The Source is called what he is because he is The Source of All Evil.  He is the most evilest guy and has dominion over all the demons in the Underworld.  I looked up rapier in the dictionary and it seems to be the word I was looking for.

Nikki:  I see that there's a part of you I never knew about.  That's okay, I have a voice in my head too.  But I don't listen to it.  Oh wait. . . Maybe it's my conscience.  Whoops.  shrugs  But like I said, block out the voice and all will be fine (unless you did something really bad and it's screaming for you to own up to it.  Then I'll know that you have a conscience too).