Disclaimer: I own…the nifty English-Elvish dictionary in front of me, my soundtrack of A Walk to Remember, and my messed up copy of Lord of the Rings, which, at one point refers to Frodo as Frondo, (my new extra-special sacred copies with the movie art covers are in my room, as they are too sacred to leave my room. Am I obsessive or what?) but NOTHING else! Leave me alone Peter Jackson! *makes a x with fingers and backs away. *
A/N: Kudos and special thanks to Shy who inspired me to revise Chapter Eleven. You can read it if you really want to…some may have already. But thanks! You get…a special sticker thing! * presents a sticker that says "Wowser. How spiff-tastic." * I like those words…heh. Moving on…
Chapter Twelve
We slowly made our way down the mountain, defeated, exhausted, and thoroughly frozen. We made good time and were able to camp at the foot of the mountain, where we had rested several days ago. I helped myself to a meager meal of bread and a bruised apple, my movements mechanical. At last I crawled into my sleeping roll, and collapsed, utterly exhausted.
Sometime later I felt a hand gently shake my shoulder, rousing me from the peaceful half-sleep I had been drawn into. I groaned and rolled over, mumbling a barely audible "go away."
"Haley," a somewhat familiar voice whispered. I reluctantly opened my eyes to find Legolas bent over, shaking me gently.
"Whassa matta?" I asked groggily, almost knowing what the answer would be.
"Sindarin," he said simply.
If I had a pillow I would have hit him with it.
*
The next morning we set off a little later than usual, our destination being Moria, which was some fifteen miles away from Caradhras. I had learned from Legolas that it was a mine valued greatly by the dwarves. Actually, I would describe their fondness for the mines as possessive, but that's just me. I wasn't particularly psyched about it, but Gimli went on and on about it as though it was the greatest thing since sliced bread…or even better, chocolate. He promised us a "royal welcome" from his cousin and babbled on and on about the riches beneath the mountain and a bunch of other stuff that I blocked out after awhile. When it became increasingly difficult to not run screaming back to Rivendell, I began walking with Legolas and started questioning him again. His voice drowned out Gimli's and it was good payback for waking me up last night.
We finally reached the walls of Moria a little while after dinner. By then Gimli had run out of things to say—that and Aragorn was beginning to look a little irritated—so he had busied himself by twisting his head every which way in order to see everything at once. I had to admit, the walls were impressive. They shot up toward the sky, black and mysterious against their surroundings. They were not particularly smooth or polished, but surprisingly the creases and cracks in the rock made it even more beautiful.
Though I was incredibly awed by the walls, there was something rather odd about the place: there was no one in sight. You would think that a place so utterly sacred to the dwarves would have millions of disgruntled, axe-wielding guards—or just many Gimli clones—surrounding Moria. But the place seemed abandoned and dead, an ominous silence shrouding the walls. I felt slightly unnerved; similar to the dislike and fear I had experienced on Caradhras. A twig snapped and I nearly jumped out of my skin in fear.
And still the silence grew.
There was no sign of life whatsoever, even as we went around the lake that had been so inconveniently placed between the walls and us. It was too quiet; the silence seemed artificial, as though it was there to hide something. It was incredibly tempting to shout to break the quiet, but I decided that my companions would not appreciate it.
When we reached the walls, I pressed my palm against them, letting the rough texture imprint itself on my fingertips. Gandalf felt along the walls beside me, evidently looking for a door or another form of entrance. He rubbed some dirt off with his hands. I could make out a faint carving that twisted and flowed in many directions.
"Isildun," he murmured. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."
Almost exactly after he uttered those words, the clouds parted and the gentle light of the moon shone through. I watched the walls. The design began to glow with a soft light, somewhat reminding me of the glow sticks I used to get at Halloween parties.
"It reads 'The Gates of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak Friend, and enter.'"
"What do you s'pose that means?" inquired Merry.
"Simple," replied Gandalf. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors open." He placed the head of his staff on the door and bellowed a short phrase.
Silence. Nothing happened.
He tried again, this time using a different password.
Still nothing.
After many failed tries, most of us spread out on the ground while Gandalf searched his memory for the correct password. Aragorn and Sam unpacked the pony, "Bill" and set him loose, as we couldn't take him into the mines. I felt bad for Sam—he had a loved that pony and looked rather forlorn as he watched Bill trot off into the distance. I sighed. Hobbits just seem to have a way of being unbelievably cute and irresistable when they're upset. It was hard to not run over and hug him reassuringly. Merry and Pippin threw rocks into the lake until Aragorn told them to knock it off. As for me—well, I had planned to use this time to relax, but Legolas decided to go over some vocabulary.
"Cloak," he said.
"Gollo," I muttered in reply.
"Make the 'o' a little more—"
"It's a riddle," Frodo said suddenly. I ignored Legolas and focused my attention on Frodo. "What's the elvish word for 'friend'?" Legolas looked at me expectantly.
"Mellon," Gandalf replied before I could say anything. There was a loud creak and the doors swung open. Gandalf looked as though Christmas had come early and stepped inside, a tiny light on the end of his staff glowing in the darkness. I gathered up my belongings, following after the others. I cautiously stepped into the darkness, the flickering light of Gandalf's staff my only guide.
"Am I correct in assuming that you would have answered that correctly?" asked Legolas, falling into step beside me.
"Legolas, there is and evil dark lord living in Mordor who plans to take over the world with the contents of a jewelry box, and right now we must march through a creepy dwarven mine to avoid being killed by Saruman the Psychotic. I don't think it will matter much if I can remember how to say 'friend' in Sindarin today or tomorrow," I replied, patting him on the shoulder. He shook his head.
"I don't know what to do with you."
"Well, you don't have to wake me up to—"
"Soon, Master Elf—" interrupted Gimli.
"Oh what am I? Chopped liver?" I asked, annoyed at his interruption and his failure to recognize me. He glared and continued.
"…You will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves!"
"Isn't dwarven hospitality an oxymoron?" I asked, before I realized what I was saying. I clamped my hand over my mouth, hoping Gimli wasn't in one of his 'moods.' I swear that dwarf had permanent PMS or something. Gimli frowned at my comment, but thankfully, did not look murderous. Legolas looked slightly amused and Merry and Pippin giggled to themselves.
"Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!" he continued. Not having anything else sarcastic to say and having the wish of keeping my head, I remained silent.
"This isn't a mine," Boromir said quietly. "It's a tomb!" The light from Gandalf's staff brightened, revealing hundreds of small skeletons lying about the floor.
"Eww…oh that's…eww…" I said, trying to inch away from the scattered corpses.
"No!" Gimli cried, bending down to examine the remains. For the first time in my life, I felt sorry for him. Legolas bent down and retrieved an arrow from a ribcage.
"Goblins!" he whispered.
"We make for the Gap of Rohan! We should never have come here! Get out! Get out!" Boromir exclaimed, fear dripping from his words.
"Strider!" Sam suddenly shouted. I spun around. Frodo was being yanked roughly across the ground by a slimy tentacle that had emerged from the water. Aragorn rushed forward, his sword unsheathed and gleaming in the moonlight. I quickly followed with the rest of the Fellowship. Sam sliced off the tentacle that had grabbed hold of Frodo. The remainder slithered back into the water and there was a pause, almost as if it had been defeated. Suddenly, dozens of wormlike tentacles surfaced and plucked Frodo off the ground, and pulled him out far over the water. Aragorn and Boromir launched forward, hacking at the slithering tentacles. I withdrew my sword, watching to see where I was needed. A head slowly rose out of the water. It was hideous, seeming to be related to an octopus of some sort. I also thought it bore an uncanny resemblance to my seventh grade math teacher, but I figured that this was not the best time to mention it.
I heard a soft hiss as an arrow whizzed by my ear and found it's mark in the creature's head. I glanced behind me and saw Legolas readying another arrow. I stood on the edge of the shore, with my sword in hand, feeling incredibly stupid because I had no idea what to do. Aragorn chopped off the tentacle that held Frodo suspended over the water. He fell, landing in the arms of Boromir. Another arrow sped through the air and hit the creature in the eye, giving Boromir and Aragorn enough time to get out of the water.
"Into the mines!" yelled Gandalf. He didn't need to tell me twice. I sprinted as hard as I could back into the foreboding darkness of Moria, the rest of the Fellowship trailing behind me. There was a crack and then a loud rumble. I glanced back and saw the gates crumble behind me. Large sections of the stone ceiling were knocked loose and spiraled down to the floor.
"OH SHIT!" I screeched, picking up the pace. I ran until I hit the stairs, falling with a sickening crunch onto a skeleton. Suddenly, the rumbling ceased, followed by an eerie silence. A small light began to glow on the end of Gandalf's staff.
"Now we have but one choice," he said. "We must face the long dark of Moria Be on your guard! There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world…where's Haley?"
"I'm here," I called, trying to disentangle myself from the skeleton. Aragorn extended his hand and hoisted me up. I brushed myself off, shuddering. That was perhaps the grossest thing that had ever happened to me. I looked at the crushed bones. "Sorry about that buddy."
"Right. It is a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence may go unnoticed," Gandalf continued, leading us further into the depths of Moria.
Stupid octopus…