"Behold," announced Mithrandir, holding his lighted staff aloft. "This is the realm of the great dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

The worn faces of the fellowship looked up, gazing at the stone columns in wonder. "That's an eye-opener, ain't no mistake," murmured an awed Sam. Legolas was surprised to find himself inwardly agreeing. The stone didn't have the beauty of anything living and green, but there was an undeniable majesty and grandeur in those massive columns. Anything awe-inspiring was a welcome sight after days of trudging through the darkness, and Dwarrowdelf was certainly that. Of course, his mood had improved greatly since that first night, taking inspiration from the hobbits' naive bravery and Aragorn's stoic command. That, on top of the stolen moments he shared with his lover, made the trip through Moria bearable, even if he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being hunted.

Suddenly Gimli cried out and ran off to the side, ignoring Mithrandir's call. Everyone followed him into a room. It was littered with more dead bodies, even more than what had been at the entrance. Legolas and Aragorn stood together as the wizard read the inscription on the tomb: "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin and lord of Moria." Gimli sobbed at his words. This was unleashed grief, Legolas realized. It wasn't the checked grief of his father and his people at a court funeral; it was unchecked, powerful, and raw. It was the pain of someone who unexpectedly lost one he loved greatly. Emotion washed through him - pity (for a dwarf!), confusion, and an uncomfortable feeling that he couldn't quite identify in the pit of his stomach - that he struggled to keep in check.

Mithrandir picked up a book and started to read aloud what sounded like a first-hand account of the demise of the dwarves in the mines. Legolas listened, feeling like he couldn't take anymore. The smell of rot and death was in the air, dead bodies were all around, and Gimli's grief was stirring something inside him that he didn't understand or know how to deal with. On top of everything else, he could feel something was about to happen. He knew that the hunter-and-prey tension between them and their unseen foes was coming to a head. "We must move on," he whispered desperately to Aragorn. "We cannot linger."

Aragorn nodded, partly because he agreed and partly to soothe, trying to rid his lover's voice of it panicked undertones. He silently berated Thranduil, for sheltering his son so much, and himself, for being the reason the elf came on the journey in the first place. The mines of Moria were not the place for anyone's first quest away from home! He knew he should advise Mithrandir that they needed to move on, but found he couldn't deny Gimli the knowledge of what had happened to his kin.

"They are coming," Mithrandir concluded, raising his eyes to exchange a glace with Aragorn. Whatever he was trying to convey was cut off by a loud crash, followed by even louder crashes. Aragorn stiffened and Legolas sucked in some air, fearing the worst before they realized that Pippin had accidentally knocked a corpse down a nearby well. "Poor Pippin," thought Aragorn, although the hobbit deserved Mithrandir's scolding. His characteristic curiosity was amusing only when they weren't in so much danger.

Legolas let out a breath. The tension would have disappeared a little if the pounding hadn't started. 'Drums, drums in the deep'; those were the words in the log of the dwarves. Now it was painfully clear what it meant. "Orc!" he cried.

Boromir ran to the door to see what was coming their way. His bravery was rewarded by two arrows that barely missed his skull. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Aragorn had to repress a chuckle at the annoyed sneer and eye roll that Boromir gave them. "They have a cave troll," he said in an exasperated tone as he and Aragorn pulled the doors shut. Securing the lock, they ran back to form a line of defense with Legolas.

"Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn ordered the hobbits.

Legolas felt the dueling emotions of apprehension and relief; they were under attack, but at least the tension of the last few days was almost over with. He was in familiar territory now: shooting orcs with amazing accuracy. Aiming carefully, he took out an orc trying to break the lock, and then another. The elf's confidence was faltering was the volume of the screeches increased. There were so many of them! How were they - how was he - supposed to kill them all?

The doors crashed opened and the onslaught of orcs was immediately overshadowed by the presence of the cave troll. Legolas fired, hitting the creature in the shoulder, but it didn't cowl. The only thing the arrows seemed to do was increase the troll's rage. He watched, feeling horrified and guilty as the troll sought to take out its fury on poor Sam, who barely escaped the slam of the club. The troll then moved to make a swing at Gimli, who was distracted by the orcs and didn't even see the elf save his hide with more arrows. 'Great,' thought Legolas. 'Not only am I shooting at a troll with a thick hide, but I'm also saving a dwarf.' At least the troll turned its rage on him now instead of his innocent companions. He ran, trying to draw it away from the rest of the company, while it swung chains at him. Legolas managed to climb one that got wrapped around a stone and shot it in the head. Still it would not go down!

In the meantime, Aragorn had his hands full. First he had to save Boromir from an orc attack; the Gondorian looked stunned that he owed his life to a "mere ranger." Then he could do nothing but watch in terror as the cave troll attacked his love. Despite the fear and confusion he knew the elf felt, Legolas more than rose to the occasion and got in a good shot before getting out of the troll's line of fire. Where would its fury be turned to next?

His question was answered almost immediately. "Aragorn!" cried Frodo. Aragorn stared in shock for a moment as the troll persistently pursued the ring bearer. "Frodo!" he roared, rushing to the hobbit's aid.

The troll saw him coming as swung his large club. Aragorn flew through the air before landing in a small opening, completely unconscious. The world moved in slow motion for Legolas as he watched first Aragorn fall, then the troll continue to chase Frodo, and finally seeing that accursed creature drive a spear into the hobbit's side. Merry and Pippin screamed in rage and dove onto its back, stabbing its shoulders with their small swords. Fear left Legolas, being replaced by a concentrated feeling of reckless courage. 'I don't care if it does flatten me,' he thought, standing his ground and aiming as the troll came closer and closer. 'It's going to die even if I have to tear its head off with my bare hands!' It didn't come to that, thankfully; one well-aimed shot into the troll's mouth ended its attack.

He rushed to Aragorn's side. The man was stirring, struggling to get up. "Legolas?" Aragorn whispered weakly. Legolas nodded and helped him rise to his feet. "Where's -" the man started to ask. His eyes fell on Frodo sprawled on the ground. "Oh, no."

Aragorn went over to him and the entire company got a huge shock: Frodo picked himself up off of the ground. "A mithril shirt," murmured Legolas to himself. "The Valar are certainly watching us today." A thud came from the corridor outside and Mithrandir ordered, "To the bridge of Khazad-dum."

The fellowship ran from the small room, following Mithrandir as a seemingly endless swarm of orcs surrounded them. There was nothing for them to do but try to fight their way out. They all readied their weapons, but then the sound of heavy footfalls made fellowship and orc alike turn to find its source. The orcs screeched in terror, fleeing before this unidentified foe. 'This isn't a good thing' was the general thought of the company.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir demanded.

Mithrandir closed his eyes. "A balrog," he answered. Legolas' eyes widened. A balrog was a demon of long ago, the subject of children's nightmares not of real life. One of these monsters was coming towards them now? He froze in fear and stared in the direction of the sound. He didn't hear Mithrandir's order to run. Had Aragorn not grabbed his arm and pulled him along, he wouldn't have moved at all.

It was a living nightmare. They were being pursued by a balrog down a stairway that had sudden ends and deep drops, as they all learned when Boromir almost fell. Had it not been for Legolas' elven reflexes he would have tumbled to the roots of the mountain. "Lead them on, Aragorn," Mithrandir ordered sharply, but that was easier said then done. The stairway to the bridge had a large break in it. Legolas jumped it easily, as did Mithrandir. Boromir made it with some effort, carrying Merry and Pippin over with him. Aragorn grabbed Sam and tossed him like a sack of potatoes. "Nobody tosses a dwarf," protested Gimli proudly when the man reached out to grab him. The dwarf jumped, and Legolas got the fleeting childish thrill of pulling his beard as he pulled him to safety.

Gimli's jump had broken off even more of the stairs and now Aragorn and Frodo were trapped on the wrong side of a distance that was too great to jump or be tossed. 'When will this be over?' thought Legolas desperately. 'Please, Elbereth or Eru or whoever is listening, let them come over safely and get us out of this horrible place!' A rock fell, pushing the two even farther back. The foundation under the stair portion creaked and started to sway and Legolas never felt more useless and scared in his life. Aragorn, however, kept his head and shifted his weight, ordering Frodo to do the same. They managed to manipulate it in the direction of the rest of the company, and Aragorn was soon in the safety of Legolas' arms. They allowed themselves a brief embrace before joining the others to flee over the bridge.

All save Mithrandir were on the other side, only a few feet from the way out, when the balrog caught up with them. The wizard turned halfway across. "You cannot pass," he declared menacingly.

"Gandalf!" shrieked Frodo.

"I am servant of the secret fire," Mithrandir continued. "Wielder of the flame of Arnor. The dark power will not avail you, flame of Udun!" The balrog cracked his fiery whip, but the wizard deflected it. "Go back to the shadows," he snarled, and then yelled with all of the power he had in him: "You shall not pass!" as he brought down his staff and shattered the bridge.

His triumph was short-lived. The falling balrog snapped his whip up from the chasm, twisting it around Mithrandir's ankles. He only held on long enough to admonish, "Fly, you fools!" before he fell out of sight. Aragorn stared in dismay as his dear friend fell, only running when orc arrows starting flying at him.

Outside the mines, Legolas stood in a confused stupor and didn't even heed the feeling of the free air on his face. 'Mithrandir was important,' he thought dully. 'The Valar know this. They know that I love him, that he is like kin to me. He can't be dead.' But Mithrandir didn't emerge from the caves. Legolas' body obeyed Aragorn's command to rally the fellowship so they could reach Lothlorien before the orc pursuit began, but his mind was still reeling. Mithrandir was dead. The Valar would let someone he loved and needed die. That revelation scared him more than anything else that had happened that day.

To be continued...