Disclaimer: Fred: Hi! We're Blue Kat's brain cells!
Norman: Wait, I thought they didn't exist…
Fred: Well there was a recent die-off due to massive consumption of Spongebob Squarepants. But contrary to popular belief, there are always a few of us around to keep the fics coming and to prevent Kat from tripping all over herself.
Ethel: But she does that anyway…
Fred: No matter! Anyhow, we're here to tell you that Kat doesn't own anything.
Norman: Nope. Not even Peter Jackson's socks.
Fred: Anyhow, all you big shot lawyers with the brief cases and legal pads can move on to the next fic and look for people who claim they own things.
Big Shot Lawyers: *grumble * Crud…*shuffle away *
Pauline: Cause she doesn't. Own anything or claim to.
Fred: Yeah. Now, we must be going. See ya later!
Ethel: And always remember to wear kneepads when making a soufflé!
Chapter Thirteen
Moria was terrifying.
Darkness loomed everywhere, seeming to wait hungrily for an unsuspecting prey. The light from Gandalf's staff was merely enough to allow us to see the path in front of us. Otherwise the darkness remained unbroken. An uneasily silence settled over the Fellowship.
We walked on for many hours, traveling through numerous caverns, following many a path into complete darkness. Here and there we would find possessions of the dwarves; weaponry, armor, pickaxes, long since abandoned and forgotten on the grimy floors. Some times Gimli would let out a cry laden with grief, bending to examine the items that had once belonged to his people. Gandalf would gently guide him forward, whispering reassuringly.
After a while my motions became mechanical and weariness began to set in. I walked in a half sleep, starting awake occasionally.
"We must rest," Boromir said weakly, steadying Sam for the third time. "The Halflings are exhausted and Haley is nearly asleep on her feet!"
"I told you we should have not brought a woman! See how weak she is!" growled Gimli. I sighed.
"Normally I would say something sarcastic right about now, but I'm too tired to think or to care and you're just trying to pick a fight because you're upset and feel the need to vent your anger," I replied, leaning against Aragorn for support. Gimli muttered to himself. Dwarves really need some mass therapy or something.
"Boromir is right. Rest and some food would do us some good," Aragorn replied. Gandalf nodded.
"I know of a place a little farther ahead that would be a good place to rest. But there will be no fire. Evil lurks near and a fire would only draw unwanted attention to us," said Gandalf, the light of his staff bobbing along merrily as he led us onward.
We went up a slope in the path and discovered a small, secluded alcove strewn with weaponry and other random objects that had once belonged to the dwarves. I cleared a small space for myself and collapsed on the floor, heedless of the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the years.
Dinner…or maybe it was breakfast or lunch…I wasn't sure…was cold chicken, a carrot, half of a raw potato, and some water from my canteen. I haphazardly made my way through my meal, barely tasting the food I placed in my mouth. When I finished, I curled up in a ball, resting my head on my pack, not even bothering to unpack my sleeping roll. I drifted off immediately into the deepest sleep I had ever had since I arrived in Middle-earth.
*
I was shaken from my sleep sometime later. I opened my eyes, half expecting to find Legolas waking me for a Sindarin lesson. Fortunately for me and for Legolas (I was really NOT up to it), it was Aragorn.
"We're preparing to leave," he informed me. "Pack up your belongings." I sat up and stretched, trying to work out the awful crick in my neck. I was feeling quite refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to take on anything. Except Sindarin, that is, but I think that would be obvious.
"How much farther do we have to go?" I asked Gandalf, shouldering my pack.
"We've made excellent time. The other side is two days away, at my best guess. But if we keep a good pace, we may see daylight earlier than planned," he replied, busily packing some bags.
I smiled.
Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I had thought.
*
I did not count on Gandalf getting lost.
We had come up a path to find three separate doorways. I waited impatiently for Gandalf to make a choice between the three. But instead he said something that brought fear and slight annoyance to my heart:
"I have no memory of this place."
So we spread out on the floor yet again, waiting while Gandalf searched his memory.
And no, my Sindarin lessons were not postponed.
"Eye."
"Hen."
"Good. Hair."
"Fin."
"Yes. Light."
"Galad."
"Correct. Moon."
"Legolas, can we stop?"
And it went on…
After I had threatened to go totally insane—which Gimli had kindly pointed out would not take much—I was relieved of my lessons and used this time to relax.
"Ah! It's this way," Gandalf exclaimed sometime later, rising from his seat. I silently cheered.
"He's remembered!" exclaimed Merry, scrambling to his feet.
"No, but the air smells less foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose," Gandalf replied, stepping into the tunnel. I refrained from making a sarcastic comment about the hygiene of the dwarves and followed.
*
We walked on for a little more. After a while, Gandalf seemed to recognize landmarks and his stride became more confident.
"Let me risk a little more light," he said quietly after we had passed under a low doorway. The stone on his staff grew considerably brighter, lighting up the area around us. I was awed. A vast room had been revealed, with incredibly high ceilings and immense columns. I looked around me, marveling at the skill that had been used to create such a masterpiece. "Behold!" exclaimed Gandalf. "The great realm of the Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."
"Well that's an eye-opener, no mistake," commented Sam. I remained speechless.
"What do you think of that, eh?" Gimli asked clapping me on the shoulder. "Not so haughty now, are ye, Miss Elf?"
"Oh…shove it Gimli," I muttered.
We wandered through Dwarrowdelf for a while, apparently looking for an exit of some sort. Gimli suddenly made a grunt of surprise and darted toward a room off to the side, running as fast as his little legs could carry him.
"Gimli!" exclaimed Gandalf. There was a cry of grief and we quickly followed him to the room. Gimli was bent over what appeared to be a tomb, mourning, amongst the many scattered skeletons. Gandalf approached the tomb.
"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," he read, peering over the runes engraved on the top of the tomb. "He is dead then. It is as I feared." Gimli wailed and leaned his head against the stone.
Gandalf handed his hat and staff to Pippin and bent down to retrieve a very large and thick book, held in the hands of a skeleton.
"We must move on. We cannot linger," Legolas whispered worriedly to Aragorn. I glanced at him, wondering why he was so anxious. At the time, I had assumed he was troubled because it was so creepy. I mean it was a room full of rotted skeletons. Who would want to stay?
Gandalf opened the book. A shower of dirt streamed out. He smoothed over the pages, gently blowing off the dust.
"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall," he read. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep.'" He turned the page. "'We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out." He paused. "'They are coming.'" I felt a chill go up my spine.
Suddenly there was a crash. I looked around for the source of the noise. Pippin was standing by a skeleton seated on a well. He had apparently knocked the head of the carcass into the well. Suddenly the rest of the corpse tipped backwards and fell in with a resounding crash. It had been attached to a chain, which was linked to a bucket, which fell noisily in with it. There were reverberating crashes and clangs throughout the mine as the skeleton made it's way to the bottom of the well.
And then there was silence.
Pippin looked sheepish, and rather frightened. Gandalf angrily snatched his hat and staff from him.
"Fool of a Took!" he exclaimed. "Next time throw yourself in and rid us of your stupidity!" Pippin looked at the ground in that cute way that hobbits do, making it ridiculously hard to not run over to him and reassure him that it was not his fault.
Boom.
It was muffled at first and I had thought perhaps that it was my imagination.
Boom.
It was louder this time, and it was evident that everyone heard it as well. I inhaled sharply.
Boom. The volume and the rhythm increased dramatically. My heart pounded in in time with the drums. Frodo withdrew his sword. It had begun to glow a bright blue.
"Orcs!" exclaimed Legolas. Fear had nearly paralyzed me. My hands shook as I unsheathed my sword. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced around to see Gandalf.
"Trust yourself," he whispered. I gulped and nodded.
Boromir ran toward the door and peered out. Two arrows whizzed by, barely missing his head. He slammed the door shut.
"They have a cave troll," he muttered.
"Stay close to Gandalf!" yelled Aragorn*. I slowly inched backward, hiding behind the old wizard, frightened beyond all belief. But Gandalf's words echoed in my head and I straightened my back, trying with all my heart to believe in my abilities and myself.
Legolas, Aragorn, and Boromir barred the doors with the weapons of the dead dwarves. Gimli jumped up on his cousin's tomb, growling like a lion on the hunt.
"Let them come!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with the desire of battle and bloodshed. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria that still draws breath!"
I gripped my sword tightly, standing poised and ready for what was to come. Footfalls echoed throughout the corridors as our enemy drew closer, growing louder as they approached the door. The door shivered as they battered noisily against it. I knew it would not take much force to break, as the wood was rotted and well beyond any real defense. Small holes began to take shape and I could almost see them. The arrows of Aragorn and Legolas sped through the small holes, straight into the throats our rivals. There were several strangled squeals that chilled me to the very bone.
And then the door gave way.
When I first laid eyes on the orcs, my first thought was that they must have been a hybrid of a lizard and cheese mold. In short, they were utterly repulsive. Aragorn and Legolas took care of the first row or so with some amazing archery. But they were outnumbered and the orcs soon flooded into the room.
One approached me, hissing and slashing the air with its weapon. I clumsily blocked its swings. I knew that others would come after me soon and that I had to defeat this one…but I didn't want to kill it. It was disgusting and everything, but the only living thing I'd ever killed before were pesky insects, and then it wasn't done out of spite. This bore a vague resemblance to a human. I couldn't just kill it.
While I was debating my morals, the orc took a swing that I failed to block properly. I winced as its blade sliced my side. The orc made a noise similar to a laugh, which totally pissed me off. Completely abandoning the idea of allowing it to live, I took one big swing and lopped off its head. It was pretty gross, but it made me feel better.
After that I was able to fight without feeling guilty. They were corrupt with evil and death did what justice they deserved.
A roar interrupted my thoughts as I fought. I brought my sword through another orc and looked up. A gigantic…thing carrying a large club had entered, an orc leading it by a chain. It reminded me of an overweight, underpaid concert security guard, but I decided it was the cave troll Boromir had spoken of earlier.
I can't fight that thing, I thought to myself. Just stay out of the way, Haley and concentrate on the orcs.
I fought on, barely noticing what was going on around me. I'd occasionally move to get out of the way of the troll and often catch quick glimpses of my companions trying to defeat it.
"Aragorn!" Frodo suddenly screeched. From what I could see, the troll had grabbed hold of his foot. There was nothing I could do, as I was busy trying to stay alive myself.
A few minutes later there was a loud cry. I glanced over quickly to see Frodo pressed up against the wall, a spear in his side.
Oh God…I thought, tears forming in my eyes. This couldn't be happening. Frodo was one of the best people I knew and after all he did, it wasn't fair for him to be killed like that. A rage formed inside me and I mercilessly disposed of the remaining orcs. I spun around just in time to see Legolas' arrow make its mark in the troll's throat. It made a few guttural sounds and moaned painfully, swaying as death claimed it. It finally fell, shaking the room. Pippin was flung off his back, landing hard on the floor. Why he was up there in the first place was unclear to me.
I saw Aragorn bending over Frodo's motionless form. I rushed over; trying to see what was going on, unshed tears lingering in my eyes.
"Oh no," whispered Aragorn. He rolled him over slowly. I bit my tongue, trying to remain in control.
But to my surprise and everyone else's, Frodo sat up and coughed a little.
"He's alive!" exclaimed Sam. I sighed in utter relief.
"I'm all right, I'm not hurt," said Frodo. Aragorn frowned in confusion.
"You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar!" exclaimed Aragorn, almost accusingly. Gandalf's eyes twinkled.
"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," he replied. Frodo opened his shirt a little to reveal what appeared to be a chain mail vest made of silver and gold.
"Mithril!" exclaimed Gimli. I had no idea what it was, but I decided it was a very strong and evidently precious metal. "You are full of surprises Mr. Baggins!"
Many footsteps in the corridor interrupted our meeting.
"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" exclaimed Gandalf, taking off out another door. We ran after him.
It was at this time that I became aware of the pain in my side. During battle I had ignored it, as there were things of more importance at hand. The wound ached as I ran, as though it was constantly trying to remind me of its existence. I couldn't very well ask to stop now, so I bit my lip and remained silent.
Meanwhile, orcs were crawling out of their hiding places. They swarmed down the pillars in the ceiling and up from the floors. We ran on, but the orcs grossly outnumbered us and we were soon surrounded. They hissed and jeered at us from all directions in their own tongue.
This is not happening, this is just a dream…I said to myself over and over again.
A deafening roar suddenly broke the jabber of the orcs. They froze in fear, and spoke amongst themselves. It sounded again. They all squealed in terror and quickly began to retreat, back into the darkness. Chills ran up and down my spine.
This could not be good.
An eerie light that seemed to come directly from the depths of Hell had begun to shine in back of us from behind a corner. Legolas had readied an arrow, aiming it at the strange glow.
"What is this new devilry?" asked Boromir.
"A Balrog," replied Gandalf, a hint of dread creeping into his normally stable tone. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"
We took off in another direction. My side throbbed painfully, but some unexplainable determination pushed me onward. We turned a corner and found our path swerved to the right, bridging a dark pit. Boromir had not stopped quickly enough and teetered dangerously on the edge. Legolas grabbed his shirt and pulled him backward.
"Lead them on Aragorn!" instructed Gandalf. "The bridge is near." Aragorn looked apprehensive. "Do as I say!" Gandalf bellowed. "Swords are no more use here."
We ran down a stone staircase with no railings the seemingly endless pit. After a while we came to a large gap in the stair. Legolas jumped easily across, and then motioned for me to do so as well. I took a deep breath and jumped, not knowing whether or not I would ever feel solid ground beneath my feet again. I landed hard and would have toppled down the rest of the stairs had Legolas not steadied me. I regained my balance, my heart beating wildly after such a frightening experience. Legolas motioned to Gandalf. The wizard hesitated. The roar of the Balrog was heard in the distance. That seemed to be his motivation, as he jumped, his robes billowing out behind him. He landed easily.
Boromir tucked Merry and Pippin under each of his arms and took a mighty leap across. He landed as the edge crumbled. I righted the two hobbits, standing in back of them in case they fell.
And as if we didn't have enough problems already, the orcs began shooting at us.
Fortunately they weren't very good shots, but it really scared the heck out of me. Legolas easily disposed of most of them with superior archery. Meanwhile, Aragorn picked up Sam and threw him across the gap. He made a motion as if to pick up Gimli.
"Nobody tosses a dwarf," Gimli said, holding up his hand. He jumped, but didn't quite make it to the other side, as he teetered on the edge. Legolas grabbed him by the beard to prevent him from falling. "NOT the beard!" he exclaimed, his eyes growing incredibly large. It was rather funny, now that I think about it, but back then I was too frightened to even smile.
Portions of the stair on the opposite side began to crumble and fall. Frodo and Aragorn scrambled backward on the stair to avoid going down with the rubble. The gap between the two sections was too wide to jump and Aragorn stood evaluating the situation. There was another roar from the Balrog and sections of the stone ceiling began to break off. One landed with a crash on the stair Frodo and Aragorn were stranded on, separating it from the rest of the staircase. It began to tilt noticeably to the side. Aragorn, however, seemed to notice that he could influence the direction of the tilt by leaning forward, backward, etc.
"Lean forward!" he called to Frodo. They both leaned forward, which caused the stair to tip toward us. It finally crashed into the top part of "our" staircase. The mometum threw Frodo and Aragorn forward, Legolas and Boromir having to catch them. Once their feet were set firmly on the ground again, we ran. As we darted away, a large part of the staircase cracked and fell into the abyss below. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief.
We continued to run until we came to the bridge. It made me nervous just looking at it. It was slender, almost threatening to break over yet another dark and endless chasm. That and it had no railings or anything else to help pedestrians across. I silently cursed the dwarves and cautiously began to run across, trying not to look down.
Remarkably, I reached the other side without tripping or having any other close brushes with death. I gathered with the rest of the Fellowship and looked back across the bridge. The Balrog, which like a large solid mass of fire and lava, crudely shaped into a winged demon, was approaching the bridge, which Gandalf was crossing. He turned around the face the Balrog.
"You cannot pass!" he yelled to the demon. A wave of flame washed over it.
"Gandalf!" cried Frodo. Gandalf's back straightened and power seemed to pulsate through his body.
"I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! Dark fire shall not avail you, flame of Udun!" he exclaimed. The Balrog drew a flaming sword and swung it at Gandalf, who blocked it. "Go back to the shadow!" he commanded. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!!!" He slammed his staff against the ground, emitting a flash of white light, which drove the Balrog back. It drew a flaming whip and snapped it loudly, and stepped on to the bridge. The stone began to crumble beneath its feet. Having nothing to support it, it fell into the void below. Gandalf sighed a little, as though that burst of magic had exhausted him, and began to cross the remainder of the bridge. I exhaled sharply in relief.
Suddenly the crack of the whip of the Balrog pierced the silence, and wrapped itself around Gandalf's ankle. He was knocked to the ground and pulled backward to the edge of the bridge. Just as he was about to fall, he caught hold of the very end of the bridge. He struggled for a moment and then stopped, looking us directly in the eye.
"Fly, you fools!" he commanded quietly. With those words, he let go, following his adversary into the black depths. My breath caught in my throat and I choked on the tears that welled up in my eyes.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" shouted Frodo, trying to break free of Boromir's grasp. Legolas gently took me by the wrist, pulling me out of Moria and into the sunlight, away from Gandalf, the father and grandfather I had never known.
A/N: Cliffie! Sorry, but you got seven pages! I know it's kind of sad, but things will improve. Also…a reviewer (Aria) has informed me I messed up a line on Caradhras ("There is a fell voice on the air!")…heh, my humble apologies. I'm too lazy to fix it right now but I expect I will. My copy of the script is really messed up…and foul made more sense to me…I don't understand that. Anyhow, sorry people! And thanks Aria! You get…chocolate!
Happy Birthday to Shadowgirl!
*= when Aragorn says this in the movie, it sounds like he's saying "Make love to Gandalf!" Thanks to Reikon who pointed this out…it's realllly funny, go watch it *giggles insanely to herself. *