AN: So it's finally here! I must admit, this chapter is much longer and took much more time than I had intended. I'm happy with it, although I'm very much looking forward to the next one! (Y'no, where it starts to get interesting *g*) Also, I want to say that much of what happens in this and the next chapter was (indirectly) inspired by another amazing work of fiction, 'In The Deep Places' by Lamiel (Search for her on Fanfiction.net) and she has kindly given me permission to use parts of her story to further my muse. (((Lamiel))) Oh, and did I mention that this chapter is extremely long? Just checking. More elf-angst to come in chapter six! *excited*
-MelanyeBaggins
Chapter Five: A Journey in the Dark
Gimli sat. He made sure to do so without betraying the intense weariness he felt from their failed attempt to scale Caradhras, instead settling himself carefully on a rock. The others all rested as well and again they took council. He was genuinely relieved when Gandalf said they could travel no longer that evening.
"We have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell," said Gandalf, causing many in the company to groan at their options. Gimli knew in his heart that returning to Rivendell was not an option. It went against every fiber in his being to turn around and admit defeat. He had given his word to stay true and see the quest through to the end, and would not be daunted so easily.
Discussion began over what course to take. Retreating to Rivendell was quickly abandoned as an option, to Gimli's relief. The Gap of Rohan to the south was suggested, as well as turning north to skirt around the Misty Mountains, but these too were revealed as fell and dangerous. No other option was more fell and dangerous, however, than the one that Gandalf would suggest, and that they would eventually agree to take. The Mines of Moria.
At the very mention of the name many hearts grew heavy. There was much discussion and further attempts to choose another path, but there were none. It was Frodo who suggested they vote. Gimli eagerly volunteered, taking any chance he could to see the great halls of his ancestors with his own eyes. His cousin had taken that path long ago and they had never found out if he had made it there or not. Excitement overwhelmed him at the thought of finally seeing him again and putting his fears to rest. Aragorn and Frodo also, reluctantly, agreed to follow the wizard. Boromir and the other hobbits spoke against the path, leaving only Laileth's decision to be heard.
She had remained quiet through the entire debate, opting rather to listen to each position before making her own choices. She had seemingly been in deep thought when her name was mentioned, and was somewhat startled to find all attentions on her. She sat quietly for several moments before speaking.
"Moria is death," she said gravely. Her eyes scanned the faces of her companions while searching for the words to finish her thought, before settling on Gandalf's. "But where you lead I will follow," she finished. It was the first time she had spoken to the entire Fellowship in the Common Tongue, and her words wavered as if she were afraid to speak them. Gandalf sighed and smiled his relief, the hobbits frowned at each other and Boromir stood in frustration. 'Of course an elf would side with a wizard,' Gimli heard him mutter.
As the others continued discussing, he stared at the elf, not listening to them. A new respect had blossomed in his heart at her words. Here was one who was not even originally chosen for this quest, thrown into it by unhappy circumstance, but nevertheless willing to brave all to see it through to the end. Yet around her, those who had volunteered for the journey were now reluctant to continue. He thought that this alone spoke volumes of her character and upbringing, although he would never admit it openly.
They tried resting for the night, but were soon cornered by a pack of wolves who came upon them suddenly. The warriors successfully fought them off, only to find in the light of morning that the wolves they'd 'killed' had vanished. Clearly they were the work of some fell magic. This brief battle, however, served to further strengthen the bond between each member of the fellowship, for it was the first time that they had been in any real danger, and each had watched for the safety of the other. In light of the fell nature of their enemy, the company made haste to move on.
That morning was clear but cold, and their journey a dreary one. Gimli walked with Gandalf for a time, discussing dwarf history and musing about what could have happened in passed years to dry up the streams and chase away every living thing from their path. After half a day of such talk, however, Gimli grew weary of their journey, wishing to arrive at the gates of his ancestors as quickly as possible. He sprang ahead, wishing to be the first to spot the entrance which his keen dwarven senses had told him should be just over this hill, and-
The sight that greeted him filled his heart with dread. The mighty stream that should have flowed before the doors of Moria was now a bed of dry shale and rocks. It was dead, and he nearly wept at the sight. He shouted back to the others, and when they at last caught up to him they too gasped to see the dead river.
"Indeed, things have changed!" said Gandalf in his shock. Gimli looked beside him to see Aragorn's jaw tighten seemingly in pain.
"Even since last I was here," the ranger whispered to Gandalf. "Are we sure there is no other way?" Gandalf gave Aragorn a despairing look before starting again on their path.
As they walked on, he told the fellowship a bit of the history of this place and what it was like in the days of peace, a story Gimli knew well. Many long nights had he sat with his father by a blazing hearth as the tale of the wealth and splendor of Moria was told, causing the deep and intense longing to see the great halls to well up to near bursting in the little dwarf. Now as he came so near to the place of tales and song among his people, the very same excitement began anew in his heart, only now to be tempered with doubt and fear. This was not the Moria described in the tales – this place was dead and dark, not alive and thriving with skilled smiths and craftsmen. The disappointment was overwhelming. A hand, warm and encouraging, grasped his shoulder as he let out a barely audible sigh of despair. He looked up into Gandalf's sympathetic eyes.
"We shall need to find the doors, Master Dwarf," he said in an attempt to raise his spirits. "Our expert on dwarvish lore and craft would be most useful in this area." Gimli felt the excitement return anew at the wizard's words and clasped his arm in thanks before gathering himself to lead on. After about an hour's march as the sun set behind them, they came to a wall of rocky rubble. After carefully skirting around it to the other side they saw that it was this very barrier that had stopped up the stream, which usually ran fair and strong by the old gate. As they neared the edge of the water the feeling of dread returned and Gimli shuddered to see it. They all avoided touching the black water, instead hugging the cliff wall beside them as they walked.
After another hour of scrambling over the rough terrain, as the stars began to poke out at them from above, they came upon what was once a trail of great trees. Now all that remained was the dead black stumps, a parody of the beauty that they once were. Gimli heard the elf gasp in horror at the sight of the dead wood, and she touched one of the twisted branches, her face showing her anguish at the feel of the dry bark. After several more paces they came to the end of the path they had followed and more trees though as Laileth confirmed for them, these two still lived, but just barely.
Gimli walked forward and began to reverently caress the wall in front of them. The doors were close, he could feel it. Although it was an impossibility that any doors made by the skill of his people with a mind for secrecy could be found, still he looked for cracks that may give away their location, since the doors in question were quite old and may have begun to crumble with age.
Soon Gandalf joined him in his search, running light fingers over the walls and occasionally muttering some spell or passwords to the stone before them. Gimli looked up at the wizard, but he seemed too intent on his task to notice him. Suddenly Gandalf paused, his fingers running over the same spot in the wall several times. More soft words were uttered and then he stepped back, pulling Gimli with him. He was about to turn to the old man to protest this treatment when to his astonishment, trails of white fire began to appear on the wall where they had been standing. Gandalf let out a satisfied grunt, and many of the others let out gasps and murmurs of wonder. The doors had been found at last. Gimli immediately recognized the devices of Durin set upon the wall, and Laileth pointed out the trees of the elves, Aragorn translating the hurried string of Elvish for the others.
After explaining the doors and translating the message written on them Gandalf began his work, shouting words in every tongue he knew at the silent guardians. The others listened expectantly for a while, but after several minutes of unsuccessful attempts many wandered off to rest until Gandalf found the right words. Gimli was the last to do so, still enchanted by the beauty of the doors themselves.
"These signs were made by elves," he heard softly behind him. He did not need to turn to know the elf was standing close by, also watching Gandalf's progress.
"I thought you don't speak our tongue," he replied gruffly. She may be a worthy companion, and even a little intriguing, but she's still an elf. He felt, rather than saw her shrug.
"I have listened to each of you speak for many weeks now," she said, slowly, but evenly. "My kind learns quickly, but I still do not understand everything," she confessed, her voice low and musical. Gimli felt his anger slipping, but quickly shook himself. 'She's trying to confuse you,' he thought, 'make you like her with her feminine wiles.' He mentally berated himself for his weakness and took a few steps away from her. She merely smiled and walked over to join Aragorn. Gimli watched as the two spoke softly to each other in Elvish, suddenly wishing she had stayed.
Hours passed by and the companions became more and more restless. Sam voiced his concern for his pony, now well on his way back home, while the other hobbits comforted him. Gandalf had sat himself down near the doors and was deep in thought, fully aware of the time, and that they were loosing the advantage of speed in their quest. Gimli sat near him with Aragorn and Boromir stood not too far away. Laileth stood a distance apart from everyone, at first staring at the stars and singing softly to herself, but then she had fallen silent and began staring intently into the dark water.
Gimli noticed that Boromir had been watching her for some time and wondered why the human was so bothered by her presence. So what if she's a princess? Legolas was a prince and he hadn't objected to his being chosen. He shook his head and looked back to Gandalf, who seemed to have found some answer and had begun speaking to the doors anew. Laileth seemed to have heard the movement behind her for she turned and walked to where Gandalf had been sitting. Gimli turned his attention back to the wizard, noticing that this time many of the words were in his own secret tongue. 'Open, doors of Durin,' and 'Awaken, Guardians of Moria' he heard him speak, though nothing happened.
Suddenly his head snapped around as he heard a splash. The others turned also to see dark ripples in the water rolling towards the dirty shore. Frodo stood, though did not move from his spot, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear.
"Please don't do that, Boromir," he said authoritatively, "I hate this place; I fear that pool, please do not touch it!" Boromir looked back, seeing that his stone had drawn the attention of the majority of the company and swallowed in what looked like embarrassment.
"My apologies, Master Hobbit," he said and walked away from the water's edge. Frodo's eyes remained fixed on it, however, noting that the ripples did not disappear, but rather grew in strength as they reached the shore. Just at that moment he heard a cry from Gandalf that nearly scared the hobbit half to death.
"Of course!" he cried, laughing at his own foolishness. "Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer!" Gandalf raised his staff and cried: 'mellon!' All watched in astonishment as a crack in the wall became visible. Gimli felt utter excitement at watching the doors of his fathers' realm come alive and reveal themselves. Soon the great stone slabs were swinging outwards, opening onto the inky blackness that is Moria. When the doors finally ground to a halt there were excited murmurs among the fellowship. The hobbits looked into the darkness with wide eyes and then back at each other. Boromir swallowed thickly. Aragorn set his jaw in a determined stare. Gandalf stood back looking pleased. Laileth almost imperceptibly backed away from the dark cavern. Gimli was the only one who actually walked forward with a mind to go inside.
At last Gandalf led them and reluctantly, they all followed, although Merry was slightly more jovial at being credited by Gandalf for solving the riddle. Just as Gimli entered into the dark cavern, he heard a scream behind him. Everyone turned in horror to see some foul darkness writhing in the water, with one slimy tentacle wrapped around Frodo's ankle. They all made to help him, but Sam got to him first, slashing at the thing threatening his Master with his small sword. Injured, the creature's appendage drew back into the water, and Gandalf shouted for all to hurry into the yawning archway.
They raced in, Sam helping Frodo limp to the door and cursing himself for not getting to him sooner. Just inside the doors was a flight of stairs and, no sooner were Sam and Frodo on the bottom step than more tentacles reached out of the water after them. Finding nothing but the doors to grab onto they wrapped themselves around the ancient stone guardians and tore them down, leaving nothing but a pile of rubble as their exit. They were trapped inside. All around them was darkness and the sounds of frantic and heavy breathing. Gimli looked around him but all he saw was dark. Then to his left he saw, or rather, thought he saw, a faint glow, a dim shadowy form of a person, but then it was gone. He shook his head dismissively, telling himself he would have to keep his wits about him if he was to last down here. Already he was seeing things that weren't there, and his nerves were on edge – where were all the dwarves? Why had they not been welcomed as one would expect at the home of one such as Balin? He pushed the thought aside as he saw another glow above him, this one growing stronger rather than fading.
Laileth immediately felt the darkness closing around her like an iron grip on her heart. Her breathing came in short gasps as her eyes tried desperately to pierce the darkness and see anything. She looked down and soon could see faintly her own hands before her, glowing dimly in the dark, though even they were merely a faint grey shadow, as fleeting as a flash of light on rippling water. She heard movement before her and looked up, suddenly seeing from above a dim light, illuminating the cavern as a single candle would light up the great halls of her father. 'Brother,' she corrected bitterly, suddenly missing him terribly.
The light came from the tip of Gandalf's staff, and she was glad of it, as now they would not stumble in the dark, although the light was dim and she worried that it may not be enough for the others. She scanned the cavern, seeing the others around her – the hobbits to her left, Gimli and Boromir to her right, and she felt, rather than saw Aragorn behind her. His presence was comforting, momentarily soothing the panic caused by the darkness.
"Well," said Gandalf, his voice reassuring everyone that they were still alive, and that the blackness was merely a loss of light and not something far more dire. "We have no choice now but to take the Moria road to the other side."
"What was that thing, Gandalf?" asked Frodo, "or were there many?"
"I do not know, but something has crept into the dark waters beneath the mountains. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world. But now we must go; follow my staff!" Laileth heard Boromir mutter further about deep places and scowled at him, though she knew he could not see her. One thought went through her mind at the sight of him – if it weren't for his stone, that thing in the water would not have woken, and the doors and trees would still be there. 'And Frodo would not have been in danger. He is a risk to our quest and his recklessness will be our undoing!' It was a warning, but she knew not from where it had come.
The company pressed on, following the light of Gandalf's staff and the sound of each other's footsteps as they echoed off the walls around them. Laileth walked much of the journey between the four hobbits, feeling the reassuring presence of Aragorn behind her and latching her eyes onto the staff ahead like an anchor. The darkness in itself was terrible for the elf to endure, being of a kind used to star and moonlight in open spaces with living things. Down here in the very depths of the earth, with the weight of stone seeming to crush them from above, spaces were tight and claustrophobic, and the only living things were her eight companions. Only when their path briefly led them to a wide open space could she truly breathe, although she still felt the weight of the mountains above them. And then there was the silence.
She had never understood how much she relied on the constant song of life until she was cut off from it. It was like sudden loss of sight – one does not realize how dependent they are on the use of their eyes until they no longer work. She suddenly found herself relying on her companions for strength, for each of them flowed with their own unique tone in the great Song of Illuvatar, the strongest and purest belonging to Gandalf which grounded her and gave her the strength to keep going. She wondered darkly what she would have done had he not been there.
After several long hours' march they came to an impasse. Three passageways confronted them, and Gandalf was hard pressed to make a decision on which way to go. A guardroom to the side of them proved as good a place as any to rest, and so after checking that it was safe, they entered and lay down their bedrolls, being sure to keep away from the well in the center of the room.
The hobbits all stayed together to one side, with Boromir and Gimli claiming the other. Gandalf sat near the entrance in thought while Aragorn stood nearby. Laileth watched the others from the back of the room, standing close to the wall and peering into the dark like a silent sentinel. Her breathing and heartbeat had not slowed since the company had entered the mines, and adrenaline was pumping through every vein. The urge to fight or flee was unbearable now, and she was certain that some dark terror lay in wait for them, if only they would drop their guard and sleep. Thus it was that she could find no rest of her own.
Just as the breathing in the room began to slow with sleep, a sound, as something falling into deep water, assaulted her ears. In the deafening quiet of the mines, this sound seemed thunderous, reverberating off the stone walls and echoing throughout the chambers beyond. Laileth covered her ears at the sound, biting back a cry of pain as the others were roused from their sleep. Gandalf stood immediately, cursing the hobbit Pippin for his foolishness in dropping a stone in the well, punishing him with first watch. The elf felt pity for the hobbit, the youngest of their company. She found herself remembering many foolish things she had done in her youth, and silently forgave him for his indiscretion, although redoubled her own watch for the rest of the night.
After several hours rest they moved on, Gandalf at last choosing the path leading up into the mountain. As they continued on their road, Laileth felt Aragorn walking close behind her. After several minutes of silence she felt his hand grasp her arm and stop her. Ahead, the light of Gandalf's torch became smaller as the others continued on and she felt slight panic that they would be left behind. She turned to the man behind her.
"That was very foolish," he said. She frowned, though he could not see it.
"What have I done?"
"It is important that we all take what rest we can. I know you did not sleep, nor even lay down. Ignoring your weariness can only be hazardous, not only to you, but also those who depend on you."
"I was not aware that my habits were of interest to you," she replied testily, increasingly aware that the tones of their companions were beginning to dim, "but if it would allow you to rest easier, I will sit for our next halt." With that she ripped her arm from his grip and quickened her pace to join the others. She heard his feet behind her, and felt his disposition change. Her words had hurt him, she realized. She understood that Aragorn's statement had merely confirmed what she had already guessed- the crushing dark was beginning to take its toll on her behavior, and that her reactions and reflexes were suffering as a result. Her pride and bruised ego, however, would not allow her to turn and apologize for her swift anger, at least not yet.
After yet another long march they came to a wide open space, filled with something approaching fresh air. Gandalf explained that they had climbed up high indeed and that should the sun rise while they rest they should be able to see some natural light. As he spoke his staff erupted in a burst of radiance, filling the room with white light for the briefest of moments before dimming to its usual level. The room was vast indeed and Gimli took a sharp gasp at the beauty that had been revealed, if only a mere glimpse. His heart began to beat anew with pride for the great works and skill that had once existed where they now traveled. Gandalf suggested they rest and set a watch as they each began to settle themselves down.
Laileth listened for a short while as Gimli explained to Sam about his ancestors and began to reverently sing of their deeds, but was drawn away from it when she felt eyes on her. Aragorn had sat himself down and was watching her, his thoughts plain on his face. She held his eyes firmly and sat herself, making a show of settling down before turning back to the dwarf. She pretended to listen to him, all the while keeping an eye on Aragorn until he himself lay on his bedroll, satisfied that she had held to her word. The others eventually slept also, leaving Gimli on watch.
She sat hugging her knees, trying to keep herself from drifting off also. Her eyes had grown heavy and more and more her body was protesting the strain it was under. The unyielding dark, however continued to choke her spirit, making it impossible to relax. As she sat, she allowed her head to rest on her drawn up knees, thinking back to happier times in her youth. She thought of her home and her father and brother, the forest, the song of life that she so desperately missed.
Unbidden, a memory from her childhood began to surface. She realized that she must have blocked it from her memory long ago, but that the dark of this place had again drawn it out. As her thoughts coalesced, she could almost smell the heavy earth in that dark wine cellar, feel her bruised hands throbbing from pounding on the door, that someone should hear her. Behind her she felt the wooden keg at her back as she pressed against it, trying to find something solid to hold off the sheer terror of abandonment and loneliness she'd felt. She even fancied she saw the thin sliver of light beneath the locked door that had been the focus of her attention for the entire twelve hours of her captivity.
If not for one of the servants being sent down to fetch wine for the dinner table, it would have been much longer. She hadn't cried when the door had slipped shut behind her, but she did when it opened. The servant, wine quite forgotten, had gathered the young princess in his arms and whisked her back to her father who, after comforting his hysterical daughter, gave her a stern lecture about young elflings venturing down into dark cellars by themselves. Never in all her long life after, did she ever go down there again, instead sending another to fetch what she needed.
"Laileth?" a small voice shocked her out of her reverie. She realized too late that she had been dreaming, her present situation quite forgotten. Frodo's small hand rested on her knee, and she jerked back, surprised at the change of location. At last realizing where she was, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Yes, Frodo?" she said, her voice betraying the fear that had risen from the memory. His eyes shone cat-like at her in the dim light of Gandalf's staff.
"Are you alright?" he asked in Sindrin, smiling slightly when the words of her tongue seemed to sooth her. "You were calling for your father," he elaborated. She stared back at him for a long stretch of time before answering.
"I miss him," was all she would say about it. "Rest, Frodo, I believe it is my watch?" She stood and watched him curl up beside Sam before directing her gaze to the darkness, resolving to herself to not let her guard down again until they were at last free of this dreadful prison.
With morning came the light Gandalf had promised. Dim and wavering, it came from small deep windows carved into the side of the mountain. It raised the spirits of the company greatly and, though the light was much welcome, Laileth lamented that they were too far up and the windows were too far away for her to hear more than a faint teasing whisper of life beyond the cavern. It was like a single drop of water to a parched mouth, or a crumb of bread to a starving man. They moved on, now with an even stronger urge to leave the dark mountain.
Just as they were leaving, Laileth caught Aragorn's arm. He turned to her, his expression unsure. The elf looked down, feeling a slight heat rise on her face as she swallowed her pride. "Im naer," she said softly, "I should not have become angry with you. You are right, I am weary." Aragorn smiled and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
"As are we all, mellon nin," he replied before turning to follow the others. Laileth allowed herself a small smile before walking after him.
Gandalf led them into yet another great chamber, this one dimly lit by the sunlight and leading to another door from where the light seemed to flow. They entered and saw that it was illuminated by a great shaft of dazzling sunlight from high above, cutting through the darkness like a blade and striking a great stone slab in the center. Laileth rejoiced openly at the blue sky that was visible through the window, and the others looked up, equally cheered by the sight. It wasn't until Gandalf spoke that they were brought painfully back to reality. The wizard leaned over the stone slab and grimly read the words inscribed on its surface.
"Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." There was a gasp of shock all around, and Frodo stepped forward to touch the stone table with tentative fingers.
"He is dead then," said the hobbit, his voice full of pain, "I feared it was so." All around them, the walls of the chamber echoed with the mournful cries of Gimli, Gloin's son, the last living dwarf in the Mines of Moria.
Sindrin:
mellon: friend
Im naer: I'm sad/sorry
mellon nin: my friend