AN: So this is the first *real* departure from the books. I promise, it will get MUCH more interesting after this! *grins wickedly* So I hope you enjoy this! *hugs*
-Melanye
Chapter Six: The Bridge of Khazad-Dum
I am not a pretty girl,
That is not what I do,
I am no damsel in distress,
And I don't need to be rescued,
So put me down, punk,
Wouldn't you prefer a maiden fair?
Isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere?
-Ani Defranco
Silence reigned in Balin's tomb. Not even a breath could be heard after the anguished cries of the dwarf ceased. At last after several moments, it was Gandalf who broke the silence, shuffling his feet to make enough noise to rouse the companions. Gimli, still kneeling by the stone slab did not look up or even move. The others looked about themselves, as if for the first time. When they had at first entered the chamber, the only thought on their minds was the sunlight, and the unfortunate resting place of the Dwarf Lord. Now that they had calmed somewhat, they began to see other things in the room as well.
Aragorn made to move beside Gandalf but Laileth caught his wrist. He stopped and stared, following her pointing hand to a skeleton on the floor by his feet. He looked into her eyes as they shared a look of dismay. It was now clear what had happened to the dwarves. Around them the others found similar evidence of battle littering the floor, and the tension grew. No one spoke until Gandalf picked up a burned and battered book.
"It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk," he said. The others listened with a mixture of dread and curiosity. Laileth watched Gimli carefully as the pages were read. Much of it was garbled by age and damage, but what could be made out was telling. Gimli raised his head as Gandalf began to read, and after a time he stood and made his way to the wizard's side, looking past him to try and see the script for himself. The look on his face was that of a defeated warrior, devoid of will to keep going. And why should he if the very hope he had clung to all these years had proved in vain? She knew it would be difficult for him to go on, and resolved to give him a reason too.
"We cannot get out," Gandalf read the last words of Ori, "the end comes. Drums," the wizard looked up, almost as if he heard the drums the dwarf spoke of. "Drums, in the deep." Gimli took a shuddering breath and Laileth fancied she saw him wipe his sleeve across his eyes. Gandalf finished the last page, his voice much lowered, conveying every ounce of finality in the phrase: "They are coming." His words seemed to echo in the chamber, and for many minutes the company could do nothing but listen to them. Then with a resounding thud Gandalf shut the book and gave it to Gimli. The Book of Mazarbul it was called, and the dwarf reverently stowed the crumbling pages in his pack, using all the care an elf would for an ancient volume from Gondolin or Doriath.
"Which way shall we go?" asked Boromir. Laileth couldn't help but glare at him. He caught the look and shot her one of his own. Gandalf broke them up with his answer.
They were to go back the way they had come and find the Twenty-first hall that Ori mentioned. The company headed for the door, but then they all stopped dead in their tracks.
Boom.
Gandalf held his breath. Laileth's heart jumped in her chest and she looked to Gimli, who looked back up with an unreadable expression. Aragorn's hand strayed to his sword.
Boom.
The hobbits backed away from the door and Boromir stepped forward, tentatively peering out into the dark hall. As he did, sounds of feet and catcalls came nearer, and after a short look, Boromir came away from the door, his face full of terror.
"We cannot fight them all," he said.
"They are coming," said Gimli.
"We cannot get out!" cried Laileth.
Boom.
"Slam the doors and wedge them!" cried Aragorn. The others made haste to do as he said, but Gandalf bade them keep the east door open so that they might escape. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Soon after the doors had been sealed by the two men, there was pounding and scratching behind it. It was the sound of many dirty, slimy hands trying to literally claw their way through the barrier. Bits of wood splintered off as holes just large enough for an arrow were opened. Laileth immediately had an arrow notched in her bow and was firing at them. Some of the targets were still small enough that a few white tipped arrows buried themselves in the door beside them.
Then the door crashed open. What followed was a blur of Orcs and cold steel shining in the dim sunlight. Each of the fellowship was able to hold their own in the fight, helping each other when they could. The hobbits stayed together with Gandalf, and Aragorn and Boromir fought side by side. Laileth ended up fighting nearest Gimli, and although no great love existed between them, they watched each other's backs as though they were kin. And, by the end of the fight, they very nearly were.
An orc barreled into the two new friends knocking Laileth to the ground and separating her from Gimli. She quickly slew the foul creature, but when she stood found that Gimli was some distance away from her. Boromir was close by, however, desperately fending off two attacking Orcs, one from in front and one behind. She ran, daggers in hand and slit the throat of one while throwing the twin dagger at the second. They slumped to the ground leaving a bewildered Boromir staring at the elf, as if for the first time.
"Thank you," he said whispered in disbelief. Laileth spared him a quick smile as she moved to claim her weapons.
"Carnen an gwend," she replied breathlessly before running to fight again. The battle was won swiftly, the remaining Orcs fleeing back from where they'd come, but not before their chieftain ran in, death in his eyes. He battled briefly with Aragorn before knocking him to the side. Then, before anyone could react, his long cruel spear struck Frodo square in the chest. The hobbit made no noise, but pain was etched on his small face. Sam struck the spear with an enraged cry, and it shattered. The hobbit slumped bonelessly to the stone floor, while the others looked on in horror. The cruel orc was about to swing his weapon at another victim when Anduril sliced down on him, ending his twisted life with one blow.
"Now is our chance, run for it!" cried Gandalf. Aragorn scooped up the fallen hobbit and ran after the others, but Laileth stayed behind. Kneeling by the shattered tomb was Gimli, and she could not leave him. She wondered at that feeling, for she knew that if she were in the same position a month ago, she most likely would have left the dwarf to fare for himself. Now that they had traveled together, suffered together, fought together, she would not leave him here to die alone. She walked forward and took his arm, trying to pull him to his feet.
"Come, Gimli, we are not safe here," she said. It was a struggle to form thoughts in the Common Tongue, especially now that her heart raced with the heat of battle, but she made the effort, hoping that it would save her friend, for friend he was to her now. He looked up and met her eyes, naked pain in their depths. She knelt and took his shoulders in strong hands. "Come, we must hurry. You can do nothing for him." He allowed her to pull him up and drag him to the door, and they brushed past Gandalf on the other side as he waited to shut it against more fell creatures.
"I am alright, put me down," Frodo's muffled voice sounded from Aragorn's chest. The ranger set him on his feet, to the surprise of everyone. Gandalf turned then, ordering everyone down the stairs. Aragorn protested, but Gandalf was not to be argued with. The company stumbled down the dark steps and waited.
Shuffling and screeching sounds came from the other side of the door. Laileth watched from the back of the company as Gandalf stood by the door, his staff lighting up the hall in an ethereal glow. Suddenly the door pounded outwards, but held fast, and Gandalf began chanting something in a secret tongue. To the elf's eyes he seemed to grow in those few moments, and he seemed more powerful than ever she had seen anyone. There was then a bright flash of light, and when at last her sight returned to her, the wizard was already running down the steps, taking them with him. His staff gave no more light, and she smiled when she heard one of the hobbits ask if he had broken it.
They ran down many stairs for a long time before Gandalf would chance a rest. They found a landing between two staircases and he collapsed onto it in an exhausted heap. The others rested as well, with always an ear for danger behind them. As they sat there, panting from their efforts, Boromir made his way to sit next to the elf.
"Thank you for helping me," he said between gasps. Laileth nodded.
"I would have done so for anyone," she replied, conscious that others were listening. Boromir shook his head.
"No, not for me," he said, laughing at her confused look. "We have not exactly been the best of friends," he admitted with a shrug. She let out a short laugh, still slightly out of breath.
"Friend or no, I would defend you with my life if necessary. We are all as important as each other. If we loose one the safety of the rest of us will be weakened." Boromir narrowed his eyes at her, surprised at the ease in which she spoke. Just three weeks ago she could barely communicate, and now she could converse comfortably with them. He found himself feeling more than a touch of jealousy, for he had not learned a word of Sindarin.
"What happened away up there at the door?" Gimli asked Gandalf, interrupting the conversation.
"I do not know," said the wizard. They listened as he recounted the battle at the door, and as he told of a dark power greater than any orc lying in wait for them. It forced him to use a more powerful spell, and the power he had used, together with the resistance against it caused the whole chamber to collapse. "I am afraid Balin is buried deep," he continued. He declared his own weariness and then at the same moment drew attention to Frodo.
"I am alive and whole," the hobbit reported, "although bruised and in pain." Everyone expressed their amazement at his recovery. Laileth thought to herself that there must be more elvish in him than simply his looks. Perhaps somewhere far back in his line there is some relation after all. Her pondering didn't last long, as soon they were on the move again.
On and on they went, through winding stairs and great cavernous halls. Laileth was quite lost and realized quickly that had she come through here alone she never would have made it. Not only was the dark an ever increasing danger to her, but also she could now openly feel the dark power Gandalf spoke of. It seemed closer now, as if it was following behind, breathing down their necks. It took all her strength to just keep going, and not stop to dwell on the fear that chased them. Soon she noticed that she could see faintly ahead of them, although as Gimli pointed out, it was not sunlight, but the red light of fire.
At last they came to a place that seemed familiar to the wizard, and he led them on. Great gaps and fissures opened around them in the floor and he had to steer them away from the perilous holes in the ground, dropping away into what they could only guess. As they went on the sounds of their pursuit again could be heard, but as they looked behind them they saw that the enemy was delayed- trapped by one of the great fissures that they had so carefully avoided. Gandalf spurred them to run with all speed, declaring that the way out was close, they need only cross a bridge and they would be free.
Soon after they came to the bridge Gandalf had spoken of. It was thin and frail looking, and to Laileth it was as perilous as an ant trying to walk upon a blade of grass while the wind howled about it. But then the enemy was nearer and there was no time to debate the safety of their escape route. Trolls had appeared with the Orcs and made a bridge over the fiery chasm that held them back. Then, out of the mass of writhing orc filth, came the source of the dark dread that both Laileth and Gandalf had felt during the entire pursuit.
"Ai! Ai! A Balrog is come!" cried Laileth as the great fiery beast crossed the bridge the trolls had made for it.
"A Balrog," said Gandalf. "Now I understand! And I am already weary." The company crossed the bridge as fast as they could, Gandalf urging them on from behind. When they reached the other side, he bade them continue and escape, but Aragorn and Boromir stood their ground, the rest following suit. There they watched in horror as Gandalf, seeming as an old and frail man, faced off against the Balrog, a great shape of shadow and flame, as powerful as the day its master, Morgoth, made it.
"You cannot pass!" Gandalf cried. The Balrog stopped, but drew itself up to its full height in challenge as Gandalf commanded the creature begone. The company watched the scene unfold with growing fear, and soon Aragorn and Boromir were running to the wizard's aid, even as Laileth tried to hold them back. Just as they reached the bridge and were about to run to his aid the wizard's staff came down on the stone with a loud crack, causing everything and everyone to stop. There was a loud flash with that sound, and then they heard a crack, the unmistakable sound of stone splitting. The demon heeded it not and stepped onto the bridge, collapsing his end of it and falling into the great abyss below.
No sooner had they breathed a sigh of relief for their fortune when a great fiery whip jumped up out of the darkness to wrap itself around the Maiar's legs. It dragged him down into the blackness below, even as Aragorn tried to run and help. It was too late. Gandalf, their guide and friend, had fallen. A moment of shock passed through the company before Aragorn roused them to press on.
Laileth stood silent in disbelief, staring at the end of the bridge where Gandalf had been. She felt that somehow she should be able to go back and change what happened. The moment was so close at hand, surely it would not take much to go back to it and change what had been done? She was forced back into reality when she felt Aragorn's hands on her shoulder, turning her away and pushing her in the opposite direction. Her feet reluctantly took her away, but her mind was still going over what had happened, trying to think of a way for it to not be true.
They ran on, up some stairs, and then suddenly like a slap in the face, it hit her. The song. It was just up ahead. She could hear the sweet melody of life- trees, grass, even other people, but this was faint. The beauty of it filled all her senses, and she felt drunk on the sound of freedom before them. "I hear it," she whispered. Aragorn turned and saw the far-away look in the elf's eyes. "The song- I hear it. We are nearly free!" The others heard her cry of joy and ran on with more enthusiasm. Then they could see it- the light ahead. A doorway. They ran as fast as they possibly could to that light, and Laileth put all her speed into it, emerging at the head of the group. Aragorn called for her to fall back, but she did not hear him, as all her attentions were focused on that light, that purity after so long being buried under rock, suffocating.
But Aragorn's cry had been a warning. Lurking by the glowing door were several Orcs and, while she did not see them, they certainly saw her. The leader smiled cruelly as the elf ran towards him. She came closer and closer, and finally the orc stuck out his foot and tripped her. She fell hard, slamming against the stone ground with enough force to knock a mortal unconscious. Dazed only, she tried to get up but was instead pulled up by her long hair. She heard Aragorn's cry behind her as he ran, sword drawn to help her, but her speed turned out to work against her- he was still too far away. Just as the others reached her the orc captain drew his cruel sword and buried it into the elf's back. She arched her back in pain, but no cry escaped her lips. The beast withdrew the blade and she fell limp to the floor even as Aragorn slew the creature that had assaulted her.
There were many Orcs by the passage, and with the death of their leader they sprang and attacked the company. As the others fought, Boromir reached the elf on the ground, with a mind to pick her up and carry her to safety. He had assumed she was unconscious, and while she was fast nearing such a state, she was not there yet. As his hands grabbed her shoulders one of her's came up and she punched him square in the jaw, for in her pain she had thought him an orc come to finish her off. The man was knocked back to the ground, stunned and feeling the rapidly darkening bruise on his face. He was about to tentatively try again but the battle with the Orcs had ended and Aragorn got to her first. She again tried to fight him off, but the ranger whispered soothing words to her in Sindarin and she dropped her defenses, relaxing so much she must have given in to the merciful blackness.
Aragorn stripped the elf of her pack and quiver, handing them to the hobbits Merry and Pippin to carry. He then picked her up, mindful of the deep gash on her back, and bade the others follow him out with haste. They did so, concerned glances torn between the way they had come and the direction of the bridge where Gandalf fell, and the elf in Aragorn's arms. They ran out the door, the sunlight hitting them with an almost physical shock, and kept running until they were far away from the east gates. They had escaped.
Sindarin:
Carnen an gwend- Done in friendship