Chapter Seven: A Journey in the Dark

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I know. I don't own LotR, or any related characters, etc. I do however, own Haleth. And Pippin- just ask him. ::kisses Pippin, who blushes and waves to readers:: Pip: 'Lo!

A/N: Finally. It's a miracle!!! Yes, I have finally updated. Exceedingly sorry about the delay, but life happens, ya know? I give Watcher in the Water plushies to reviewers!

The gaping hole in the wall opened onto a stale-smelling blackness. Rock dust floated in the still air. In the light of the moon I could just distinguish an open space, and then stairs, crumbled and broken, but still serviceable.

"Well?"

I was impatient.

"Let's get on, or are we gonna stand 'ere lookin' all night?"

Pippin took my hand, looking up at me. Not as far, it seemed, as he had been when I first met him, however. Whatever, it wasn't important at the moment. I must have been standing on a slope or something.

Gandalf gestured grandly with his staff.

"Let us away."

Boromir sighed, muttering to himself. I caught 'foolhardy' and 'black' and 'orcs' among his words- enough to get the gist of what he was saying.

"Come Boromir." I said, trailing back to him, "Nothin' t'be done now. 'Sides, I sh'll be glad to get away from this pool, I don' trust it."

Even as I spoke, I heard a plashing sound behind me.

"Oh, Valar dammit all."

I looked out over the surface of the water. Ripples.

Oh Hell

"Gandalf! Look to the lake! Something stirs!"

He wheeled around.

"Let us not stay to find out what it is. Fly!"

We rushed into the mine, and started up the stairs.

"The Doors! Dammit, how d'ye close th' Doors?!"

My voice, shrill with panic, echoed around the stairwell. I could see a tentacle, slimy and a dark gray-green, the fingered end groping around on the shore. In the water, there was a hint of a vast bulk, reeking of dead fish and Ulmo knows what else, shining wetly in the moonlight.

"Do none o' you see that out there?! Close the bloody Doors!

Aragorn and Boromir bounded sown the stairs, and closed the Doors with a shattering boom which reverberated and echoed, nearly deafening us. The hobbits stuffed their cloaks in their ears; I shoved my fingers in mine. The assault on Legolas' delicate Elven ears made him wince, covering said ears with his pale, slender hands.

Then there was silence. I blinked with revulsion at the image of the Watcher which lingered in my mind. Ugh. The light of the torch Aragorn had so wisely prepared and the blue-white radiance of Gandalf's staff shone uncertainly in the musty, still dark.

"Well,"

Gandalf's voice sounded oddly muffled

"We now face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard; there are worse things than orcs in the deep places of the world."

"In the deep places of the world... huh! And thither we are going against my will. Who can lead us in this deadly dark, I'd like to know."

He had muttered under his breath, but in the wide hall, it echoed and magnified so that the whole Company could hear.

"Boromir, shut up."

He was acting like a spoiled toddler, I thought. Shut up and leave Gandalf be.

Gandalf arched an eyebrow at Boromir, frowning irritably

"I can, and I will. I have journeyed through the mines before. Come Gimli, you shall walk beside me. Now: follow my staff."

"But- but Gandalf."

Frodo was looking just as frightened and revolted as I felt.

"What was that, that thing?"

"I know not." Gandalf sounded weary. "Something has crept, or been driven, out of the dark waters under the mountain."

"You think, mayhap, it was a kraken?"

My voice sounded shaky and distorted, echoing off the walls.

Was a kraken... a kraken... a kraken... kraken...ken...

Gandalf looked at me from under the brim of his hat.

"And how, praytell, do you know about them? I do not believe it is not widely known in Rohan, that there are such creatures."

"Umm."

I had done it again.

"I, umm... I dunno. I just, uh, do."

I grinned hopefully at Gandalf, who shook his head, smiling, silver hair glinting in the light from his staff.

"Come."

So began our journey through Moria. Old deserted shafts, dusty galleries, crumbled staircases, gaping fissures which we had to leap, Moria was a labyrinth, a maze, a series of never-ending passages each wending its own interminable way to nowhere. At least, it seemed that way to me. Bones littered the floor, crunching under our feet or discarded in corners. Corpses too, preserved in the still air, dry and hollow, with arrows or daggers protruding from them lay in our path. We took slightly more care to avoid these.

Conversations were whispered and hurried, and I took care to avoid singing or humming as I usually did. The silence seemed to resent any invasion on its domain. Occasionally we stopped, and Gandalf allowed us another sip of Miruvor. Occasionally behind me, I heard the faint pitter-patter of feet, or a hissing breath. Gollum.

As we walked, I stared at my feet. Step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step... the monotony of it was maddening. Beneath our feet, the faint sound of water running echoed off the walls. Splash, gurgle, plish, ripple, splish...

I shivered and absentmindedly fiddled with my plait, which, in the dim light, hung down my back in a dully gleaming rope.

"Oi, Hal!"

It was Pippin

"Aye?"

"Why've we stopped?"

"Huh?"

We had stopped? I hadn't even noticed. It must be... yes. I looked up, to see Gandalf standing at the entrance to three tunnels, their mouths empty and black. I sniffed, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Gor, what's 'at smell?"

Pippin shrugged, looking up at Gandalf.

"Ah'm 'ungry."

"Me too. Damn you Pip- ye had t'go an' say that, dincha?"

"Wot?"

"That ye were 'ungry."

"Umm... Ah, uh, s'pose."

"I wasn' thinkin' 'bout it b'fore, now, cos o' ye- I am."

"Oh... sorry, Ah guess."

I smiled suddenly, what an incredibly inane conversation this was- were we honestly that bored, that we were reduced to quibbling over why I was hungry? Wow.

"Neh... 's a'right, Pippin. C'mon, let's siddown- might be a while 'til Gandalf figgers out which way t' take."

It was the right-hand way, if I remembered aright. Gandalf didn't like the smell of the left way, and he didn't like the feel of the middle, or maybe it was the other way 'round, I couldn't remember. I couldn't tell him though- there was no way in Middle-Earth I could pretend to know anything about caves and tunnels and still say I was one of the Rohirrim. Granted they had the Glittering Caves, Aglarond, but, they won't need to go there until the battle of Helms Deep.

I shrugged, and pulling out my pipe, leaned back against the rock and made myself as comfortable as I could. The smoke twined about my head, creating, if I had known, a halo in the light of the torch. I breathed in, the sweet scented leaf comforting and homey, even here, in this most forbidding of places.

Unconsciously I began to hum

Oh Shenando'

I long to see you

And hear

Your rolling river

Oh Shenando'

I long to see you

Way, we're bound away

Across the wide Missouri...

I sighed, memories going back to sophomore year in high school, in choir, singing at St. John's, being jealous of John Hardy who got to play the congas when Mr. C wouldn't let me, going to Chicago, hearing only Emma Jo, who sat behind me, when we sang...

No- stop thinking about that- I told myself- you'll only make yourself homesick. But it was too late. Images flooded my mind- my little brother, my friends, being in drama at school, my damnable American Lit. teacher, my bed, my room, with all its posters, my bookshelf, crammed to bursting with books and drawing and sketches I had done, my mothers disgusting vegetarian chili. I choked back a sniffle, but to no avail. Silently, a single tear traced its way down my cheek, hot on my face.

"C'mere Pip."

He looked over absently, then, at the sight of my wet eyes, blinked and scooted over. I drew him close, laying my head on his shoulder and letting my tears soak his weskit.

"Sorry Pip" I mumbled into his shirt.

He left off absently stroking my hair with one hand. I was surprised to find tears on his own face.

"Shh. 't'll be a'right..."

I shook my head, feeling suddenly warm and fuzzy inside, as I liked to say.

"Thanks Pip."

This emotional moment was cut off, however, before it could go any further, by an exclamation from Merry.

"Cummon ye two, get yerselves a room! We're movin' any'ow."

Pippin glared daggers at his cousin for a moment

"Huh... ge' 'rselves a room 'ndeed... says the infamous Meriadoc Brandybuck. Don' think Ah ha'n't seen ye an' tha' Chubb lass, wo's'ername – Begonia."

"Pip..."

"Wot?"

Pippin and I had answered simultaneously, and we both started laughing

"We're movin', ye empty-'eaded excuse fer a Took! We're gonna take a rest in that room."

He pointed over to the left of the three tunnel mouths, to where a door stood ajar. I started off, but the two hobbits were not yet quite finished

"Empty-'eaded, is it? Well, 'scuse me, Mister Addle-pate Brandybuck."

Merry stuck his lower lip out and tried to look pitiful- it didn't work

"Ah, get outtofit Mer. Cummon."

Sam and Merry and Pippin began to push forward, glad for a place to rest that was actually a room. Gandalf, however, held them back, blocking the way with his staff.

"Steady you three! We do not know what is inside yet. Let me go first."

Cautiously he entered, the rest of us following behind.

"There! See that?"

He was pointing at a hole in the middle of the floor. It had a low wall built around it, and broken and rusting chains trailing over the edge to spill onto the floor.

"If one of you had tripped and fallen in in the dark, you'd still be wondering when you were going to strike the bottom."

We set up camp then, around the walls of the room. I noticed Pippin, however, hovering around near the well. I hurried over to him.

"Pippin! Don't go anywhere near that well."

"Hmm?"

He swiveled around, and then, upon registering what I'd said, laughed.

"Why not then? Ye scared?"

"No- jus' don', a'right?" I blustered and fumbled- what to say? "'S like Gandalf said- ye neve' know."

"Ye are scared!" He crowed "Look 'ere- 's fine."

He started to sit down on the crumbling stone edge.

"Peregrin bloody Took!"

But it was too late. He sat down, and as he did, a loose stone slipped and tumbled down into the blackness. As it struck the walls on the way down, there were dull scrapes, as grating as fingernails on a chalkboard, and then finally, after several heartbeats, a dull plunk as it struck the water in some deep subterranean lake.

I put my head in my hand

"That's why."

"Oh."

Pippin had scrambled up and was now standing next to his pack, looking very abashed indeed and blushing to the tips of his pointy ears. The rosy hue almost glowed in the dimness, and it did not take Gandalf long to discover the culprit.

"Fool of a Took!"

Pippin flinched, as if expecting a blow, but none came.

"This is a serious business, not a, a hobbit walking party! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity! Now be quiet."

Against my better judgment, I spoke up.

"'E didn't do it a-purpose! 'e jus' sat down and alright neve'mind..."

I reminded myself never to incur Gandalf's temper again. The quick look he had flashed me was enough for me to blush as red as Pippin had and fall silent. Then there was silence. I didn't trust it. It hung heavy in the air, a feeling of trepidation coming with it. And then...

tap, tap-tom, tom-tap

Faint knocks coming out of the depths of the well, echoing off the walls.

tom, tap-tap, tom-tap

The company looked ill at ease and Gandalf seemed to stand even taller than usual, grown in stature as well as in anger.

"That is the sound of a hammer, or I have never heard one."

"Yes Gimli." Said Gandalf "And I do not like it. I was going to have us sleep the night here, but now, I fear we must away. Come- I think I know which path now to take."

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. We were supposed to stay the night and Pippin was supposed to take first watch but then Gandalf was supposed to relieve him and then have a smoke while the rest of us slept... Well- that was what had happened in the book, anyway. I frowned, irritated as I always was, when, having anticipated something with smug certainty, I find that I had, in fact, been wrong all along. But wait- why had Gandalf decided to continue? Could it be that my mere presence changed things? What if because I was there, Gandalf didn't fall, or Boromir ended up taking the Ring? What could I do, even without trying? Oh shit. I had been trying to make a difference before- fix things that would be fixed. I hadn't considered the effect they might have on future events. But then we were moving again, and I had no time for further thought.

As it turned out, I had been correct- we were to go down the right-hand path. A set of stairs- like all the others we had encountered, broken and crumbled, led up into an empty blackness which might have been a hall.

As I took a deep breath, I noticed that the air smelt sweeter here; less stale and musty. I had not realized how good fresh air could taste. Up the stairs we went- more stairs- Valar above, how many stairs could one place have- until we stopped, and Gandalf held up his staff.

"Here, I think, we may risk a little more light."

And with that, he spoke a word, and a flash of light came from his upraised staff. In that brief moment, I caught a glimpse of many pillars, black and glittering, as if made of onyx, holding up a vaulted ceiling, far above our heads. My eyes widened, my brain hardly able to comprehend the awesome hugeness of the hall. How far up had that ceiling been? I could not tell, and I wasn't about to guess. And the pillars? Such was their girth that I doubted the whole Fellowship, with linked hands, could encircle one. I shook my head, staring, even as the hobbits beside me, and Gimli in front of me were doing.

"Well." Sam muttered, "That's an eye-opener and no mistake."

"No mistake at all..."

How, I thought, could anyone build something so immense, so majestic, so... I could hardly find words to describe what I was seeing.

"Come now!"

Gandalf's clipped tones interrupted my reverie. So, we made our long way down the hall, to where a door, made of dried and warped wood, and cold iron, stood ajar. I knew that door. The Chamber of Mazarbul. A shaft of blue-white light slanted through it, golden dust motes floating their lazy way down to the floor, which, I realized, was strewn with skeletons clad in rusting bits of armor. Dwarven and Orcish ironmongery littered the ground around them.

"Och!"

Gimli rushed to the door, and upon seeing what was inside, stopped abruptly. He started forward again, peering at a block of stone inside- smooth and white, unlike the rest of the rock we had seen. Suddenly Gimli gave an anguished wail and sank to the ground in front of the tomb, for a tomb I knew it to be.

The rest of the Company made its cautious way forward, Gandalf at the head. I closed my eyes, waiting. It was silent save for Gimli's occasional broken sobs. Then Gandalf spoke heavily.

"Here it is written in the languages of Dwarves and Men: 'Here lies Balin, Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then, it's as I feared."

The only noise to be heard was the ringing sound of iron on stone, as Gimli let his head drop onto Balin's tomb.