Disclaimer: I swear on all seven of my goldfish's graves that I do not own anything. Now leave me alone, Peter Jackson, or all the ghosts of my goldfish will haunt you forever. laughs evilly. I love Halloween.

Chapter Three

I have the weirdest dreams at the best of times. But the dream I had that night rated pretty high on the weird scale. First I was in this garden, but all the flowers and trees and stuff were made out of gems and stuff. Emerald grass, ruby roses, amber trees. You get the idea. Well, I was walking through this garden, and I tried to pick a flower. I bent down to pick a lily, made of diamonds, and the moment I touched it, it shattered. One of the shards flew at me and nicked me in the palm of my hand. The rest of the pieces scattered among the other flowers, and each of those shattered, and those splinters shattered more flowers, and so on and so forth, until the ground itself seemed to crumble beneath me. But instead of falling down, I found myself by this cliff. The cliff itself seemed to be white, and it shone with this brilliant light, though it was jagged and steep and sharp all over. Going away from the cliff is this weird road. As far as I can tell, the road was nice and smooth and easy, but it was barely as wide as my foot, and hovered over some immense darkness. Oh yes, and after a few hundred feet, the road became shrouded by a tar-like blackness. My hand was bleeding badly, but I did nothing about it, only staring between the cliff and the road. And coming from nowhere, I heard a really familiar voice. In this powerful, commanding tone, it said:

"Choose! Only you command your fate now: Life or Death. Dark or Light. Hardship or Escape. Choose now! Choose!" This voice sounded really scary for some reason, and when I answered it, I could only manage to squeak pitifully as a single ruby drop fell from my hand.

"I don't know what to do! Somebody help me!" Is it just me, or are people always either eternally wise or as dumb as dirt when they're dreaming?

I am clearly one of those idiot dreamers.

Another drop fell to the ground.

"Only you can decide, and only now. Choose!" the voice boomed. My eyes focused on my hand as one last drop formed, and slowly fell from the cut.

I woke up with a start.

I decided to calm down by catching a few fish for Elvis and myself. When I returned with a half dozen fish (I was feeling stressed), the company was already awake and preparing to continue. They marched on for a few more hours, passing through some particularly narrow tunnels, which Elvis and I had to skip entirely. We had to take instead a more difficult road around them, which led ultimately to the same place. When we found the company again, we were all in one of the larger chambers, which I noted was only two down from my own rooms.

"Let us risk a little more light," Gandalf said. A sudden light radiated from his staff, and all but the farthest corners of the chamber sparkled with the bright light. My eyes stung, and again I found myself annoyed with the sudden changes of lighting. Every alabaster pillar shone in white brilliance, and the intricate carvings that adorned the walls seemed to glow. "Behold the great realm of the Dwarf city of Dwarrodelf." The newly lit company looked awe struck. Only Sam could bring himself to speak.

"There's an eye opener, make no mistake." He murmured. I had to agree with him. Even though I had been in that particular chamber often, seeing it in full light made it seem like the inside of some fairy tale castle. I was left breathless by the sheer majesty of it all, as corny as that sounds.

Even Legolas seemed to forget he was underground for a few moments as the company wandered through the hall. He looked a lot happier for a moment.

Then he saw the ceiling.

I suddenly felt really, really sorry for him.

My feelings of pity were interrupted when Gimli suddenly cried out and dashed from the group. And I had a sinking feeling that I knew where he was going. The dwarf's friends gave chase, and Elvis and I followed, darting between pillars to avoid their eyes. Unfortunately, my little assumption was right. Gimli had run into the Crypt: an icy chamber scattered with skeletons, and illuminated by a ghostly light that shone like a spotlight on a large stone coffin. I had wanted to clean the place up a bit-- move the skeletons to a more suitable position, perhaps, but I could never stand in that room for more than five minutes. There was something in there that made every hair on my body stand on end and infinite chills race down my back. Even Elvis feared that room. When the company did enter the Crypt, the two of us lagged behind, sheltering in the shadows that reclaimed Dwarrodelf. Gimli was moaning at the verge of tears. Gandalf leaned over the Coffin.

"'Here lies Balin, Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.'" Gandalf said quietly. "He is dead then. It is as I feared." Gimli bowed his head and continued his sobbing. Gandalf reached down and retrieved a large leather-bound book from a skeleton. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked.

"We must not linger," Aragorn muttered. The old man cleared his throat and began to read from the tome.

"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall,'" he said. "'We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep...We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out.'" He paused. "'They are coming.'" I felt as though a vein of ice had escaped from the coldest reaches of the cosmos and ensnared me. For a moment I was paralyzed with some terrible foreboding.

A sudden noise revived me. Evidently Pippin had knocked something into a well. He turned to face the rest of the company, looking embarrassed, and an entire skeleton followed whatever had fallen into the well, crashing, banging, and making every other possible form of noise as it rushed downward. And because everything in the world seems to come in threes, a bucket that had been resting near the skeleton also decided to take a dive. It was louder than a herd of eighth grade boys in gym class.

Which takes some doing.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf snarled. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" The poor hobbit looked extremely upset and embarrassed. I fought the sudden urge to run out and hug him.

Curse those hobbits. They're without a doubt the most adorable things since the discovery of puppies.

Doom...

The beat was faint, almost as though it had been imagined.

Doom...

But the second one was unmistakable. It echoed hollowly through Dwarrodelf and the Crypt.

Doom Doom Doom...

I readied my spear and looked at Elvis. He motioned for us to leave, mouthing something.

Orcs. I looked back. The company had realized the meaning of the drums.

They were prepared.

As swift and silent as shadows, we fled.

Elvis and I only managed to get a few hundred yards before the orcs came. Elvis began to dart and dodge between our attackers, forcing them to run into each other and the walls around us. I stabbed and impaled my opponents with my spear, knocking some to the ground with my shaft to take care of later. As I fought, I heard the voices of the company.

"Orcs!" Legolas shouted.

"They have a cave troll!" Boromir. The voices became muffled.

"Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn. I dodged a boldly swung sword and knocked its bearer into some other orc's blade.

"Let them come!" Gimli shouted through what seemed to be a closed door. "There is yet one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath!" I rolled my eyes. There was a sound like splintering wood, and the voices were no longer muffled.

There was a sharp clanging, most likely sword fighting.

Then the roaring started. It sounded like a cross between a demented whale and a dinosaur and a rhino and an elephant and a lawnmower and a pro wrestler, all thrown in a blender and set for puree. The air was thick with roars and battle cries.

For a few moments the orcs subsided.

"Come on!" I shouted to Elvis. The two of us were off in a flash. Ignoring the shouts of the company, we ran away from the approaching wave of orcs, back to Dwarrodelf. But the orcs were already there. They ran down the pillars like some kind of dark water. And I nearly ran into their midst. Elvis grabbed me before I ran headfirst into the gathering crowd. He pulled me quickly behind a large statue, away from the bloodthirsty eyes of the orcs. I still saw the fellowship, though. They had run, unhindered, into the middle of the forest of pillars, and were quickly surrounded by a living sea of snarling, screaming orcs. They were doomed.

DROOM

It was as though someone had taken a picture of the scene. Every creature froze for a moment. Then every orc, as one, turned its head to a far wall. I saw a huge archway that I had never passed through. That arch was now alight with some angry orange glow. I returned my gaze to the company.

No longer interested in the orcs, they all stared in fear at the giant doorway. Legolas had an arrow fitted to his bow, but no matter where he aimed his weapon, he knew it would make no difference in bringing down whatever new evil had created that light. There was a hideous scream, and all of the orcs fled as one. I had a sinking feeling that any creature of intelligence would follow suit.

"What new devilry is this?" Boromir muttered, the acoustics of the cave echoing his voice until it seemed that he was shouting. Gandalf stood motionless for a moment. The group now stood alone in the dwarf city.

"The Balrog..." Gandalf said quietly. A hint of fear became evident in his voice. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!" The company immediately took his advice to heart. They were off at a dead run, and Elvis and I were close behind, unnoticed in the panic. Gandalf led the way to another surge of orange light, but I was too frightened to be cautious. Whatever had scared away all those orcs had to be either huge and terrible, or a telletubby. In the distance I saw Boromir topple forward onto the edge of a sheer cliff, illuminated in fiery red, and an unsummoned tremor of fear raced through me. Legolas grabbed him at the last moment, just as Boromir was about to topple from the ledge.

For a moment I hesitated, and Elvis turned me to the side to a hidden path, around the pool of orange light, away from the main road. As I ran, I looked through a few gaps in the stone that separated me from the company. It seemed, in an odd way, as though I was looking at a series of pictures instead of a moving scene. The first panel showed them running down a flight of steps, framed by what looked like lava, drenched by a thin rain of arrows. The next picture showed a thick gap in the stairs before them. Legolas had already crossed it, and waved for the others to follow. The third revealed that Gandalf, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Boromir to have joined the elf. Gimli stood at an alarming angle on the very edge of the lower step. In fact, it seemed that the only thing that stopped the dwarf from toppling into the inferno below was the fact that Legolas had a firm hold of his beard and looked as though he intended to pull it out by the roots.

It was a bit comical, come to think of it.

The next panel showed Aragorn and Frodo alone on the upper step, which had come completely free from the rest of the stairs and was now leaning dangerously in my direction. In the next few panels, the step leaned forward, the two were thrown into the arms of their friends, and the ledge fell into the blazes and was quickly engulfed. The group continued their mad dash, now a little behind us, even when the blazing lights dimmed and they were surrounded by a terrible darkness, penetrated only by Gandalf's staff. They began to cross a long, narrow stone path through the darkness, which looked strangely familiar.

I stopped short.

My Dream.

"Hurry Stephses," Elvis muttered, grabbing my wrist. He led me away from the road, to a large cranny in the wall. I wouldn't have to cross the road. I wouldn't have to make that choice.

Yet.

Elvis and I hid as the company sprinted across the wide chasm. It seemed that they had escaped whatever monster pursued them.

Boy was I wrong.

There was a sudden eruption of fire. I thought for a moment that the lava had risen from the deeps of the previous room, spurred on by some volcano. The thing is, lava doesn't have a face. Or wings. Or a sword. Come to think of it, lava doesn't have hands either.

In fact, it looked a lot like the Red Bull from The Last Unicorn: a bullish face, an enormous arched back, long, bright horns emerging from a large head. Oh yes, and the entire thing looked as though it had been through a vat of oil and a pack of eighth grade pyromaniacs.

I'm serious. You could have roasted marshmallows the size of Montana on this thing.

And it was headed toward the company.

Gandalf turned and met it head on.

"You cannot pass!" he shouted at the monster.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried. The old man seemed to ignore the hobbit.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, weilder of the Flame of Anor." Gandalf snarled. He seemed to glow with pure energy; I flinched from the sheer force of it. "Dark Fire shall not avail you, Flame of Udun!" The Balrog, I realized, swung a titanic flaming sword at the old man. My heart stopped. Yet Gandalf seemed to be encompassed by an orb of white light. Anor, I thought suddenly: he's using the flame. The fiery blade hit the orb with an ear shattering crash, and after a stunned pause, the sword began to fall apart in the monster's hand. The creature bellowed in fury and drew a long fiery whip from its flaming body. "Go back to the shadow," Gandalf said. The Balrog cracked the whip, summoning a deafening sound that has haunted my nightmares for years afterward. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Gandalf shouted. He raised his staff into the air and thrust it into the narrow road before him. A bright light surged from Anor, and the Balrog retreated for a moment, almost overcome with fear.

Yet the demon remembered its courage after a moment and charged forward. The stone beneath its feet gave way. With a loud crash, the road on which the Balrog stood crumbled into the abyss below, sending the monster flailing into the dark. Gandalf stood there for a moment, exhausted. Slowly, he turned back to his friends.

But he didn't see the whip.

It came like a glowing red snake, cracking once through the air before twining around Gandalf's ankle, dragging him to follow the fallen Balrog. The old man, his strength drained, struggled to pull himself onto the ledge.

I saw the last of his power leave him.

I saw his eyes steel over, in terrible resolution.

"Fly you fools," he gasped, and released the ledge.

I screamed as he fell into the endless void.

"NOOOOOO!" Frodo shouted, drowning out my own cry.

Arrows rained down again, and the company was forced to flee.

Elvis led me to a path around the dark road. He looked at me with worry.

"Is Stephses all right?" he asked. I forced a smile and a nod.

"Yes, Elvis. I'm just a bit shocked. Thanks, though." Elvis looked uncertain, but he nodded.

The road was little more than a spiny ledge on the very border of the abyss. It was difficult, but I was grateful-I was given an excuse not to speak. My mind strayed to my dream.

That bridge, that road. It was so much like the one from my dream.

Life or Death, the voice had said.

Gandalf had chosen death... or had he bought life for his friends? And why did it have to come at such a terrible price?

Dark or Light...

He had surrendered the light. He had allowed himself to follow the monster. Yet... he seemed almost to glow in that last moment. Or was I hallucinating?

Hardship or Escape...

Had Gandalf escaped anything in death? I saw the pain in his eyes. I felt the power he had to release to stop the Balrog. He had endured more than I ever thought was possible. If he had found any refuge in the end of his life, it was more than deserved. Of that I was sure.

Choose now!

He had chosen. As much as it pained me, I knew he had chosen right.

Only you command your fate now...

His fate, and that of all around him. I wondered for a moment if we all carry such power in the last moments of our lives.

I don't know what to do!

It shamed me to admit it, but I wasn't sure I would have that kind of courage when my turn came. My head was starting to hurt, so I tried to empty my mind and focus on the road in front of me.

Elvis and I left Moria immediately when we reached the open door.

Big mistake.

For about fifteen minutes, both of us were completely blind while our eyes struggled to adjust to the bright, constant light. When I could see shapes, everything still looked bright red, but that also wore off eventually. But I was partially happy that I was blind.

In the distance, I could hear the remainder of the fellowship, all of them mourning.

And I don't think I would have been able to stand seeing them like that.

"Legolas," I heard Aragorn say hoarsly as my vision faded from red. "Get them up."

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir cried. I silently agreed with him, then mentally hugged every member of the group.

"By nightfall these hills will be crawling with orcs," Aragorn argued, seeming to regain his composure. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Gimli, Legolas, get them up!" then more gently "On your feet, Sam. Frodo?" My vision had returned, and I couldn't stop myself from seeing Frodo, alone and away from his friends. He had been facing away, but he turned.

I wish he hadn't.

The hobbit looked like the embodiment of grief. His eyes brimmed with tears, and unbidden trails welled down, dropping like the dead onto his shirt. There was a look in his eyes that scared me. It was a look that can't be described, except that it was one of ultimate sorrow.

I would know.

I've seen that look before.

And I never wanted to see it again.