'I'm sick of the tension,
Sick of the hunger,
Sick of you acting like I owe you this.
Find another place to feed your greed while I find a place to rest.
I wanna be in another place,
I hate when you say you don't understand.
I wanna be with the energy,
Not with the enemy,
A place for my head.'
A place for my head Linkin parkChapter Eight: Darkness
They Company had departed from their spot two hours previous and were now making fast progress on the open ground. Yuna ambled onwards behind Gandalf who had risked a little more light, and now the majority of the Fellowship were staring, awe-struck at the magnificent hall that towered over the ten insignificant figures. Even the prisoner regarded the overbearing stone with some degree of admiration. She hadn't had the privilege to tour this particular area on her last visit to the mines. They were impressive. She never thought she would use the word 'impressive' when referring to something contrived by the Dwarves, but stranger things had happened. They were now nearing what seemed to be some form of exit, when a loud exclamation from the Dwarf drew their attention to a small room to the right hand side of the passage. Immediately, he hurried towards the faint shaft of light, heavy armour and helmet clanking together.
"Gimli!" Shouted Gandalf, before following the stout figure into the room. The rest of the company reluctantly proceeded after him. Loud sobs were clearly audible from the Dwarf, who was on his knees in front of a large stone tomb. Passing him by, an inscription near the head was translated by the wizard. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then, it is as I feared." His gaze fell upon a tattered old book firmly grasped by a decomposing skeleton. Taking off his hat, he passed both it and his staff to the nearest Hobbit, this being Pippin, and reached down to pick it up.
"We must move on, we cannot linger." Said Legolas, the Ranger merely nodded in agreement.
"Listen to the elf, there's something not right here. We have to leave, now." Yunalesca fidgeted with her bonds nervously as she scanned their surroundings yet again. All the senses she had honed for thousands of years were now screaming at her to get out of the Mines as fast as her feet would carry her. She didn't know why she was feeling so tense, but decided it might not be such a good idea to find out. Aragorn seemed to concur, but said nothing as Gandalf began reading from the scruffy book.
"They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums…drums in the deep." The Fellowship looked about the room riddled with corpses anxiously. The writings in the book did not help to make the place any more inviting. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming." It was at that precise moment that Peregrin decided it would be a brilliant idea to see what would happen if he twiddled an arrow embedded in the ribcage of a fallen warrior. The skull of which took an interesting journey down the conjoining well. The helmet made a resounding clash as it collided with the wall. Yuna muffled a distinctly feminine shriek as she heard it. Her anxiety swelled as the body followed, making even more noise. To top off the small performance, a metal bucket cascaded down the well, a chain slithering after it. The sound echoed about the chasms below, making the culprit cringe in dread. 'And I thought Gimli's snores could wake the dead.' There was a frigid silence as they waited for the aftermath. After a while, Boromir sighed in relief, Gandalf, however, didn't seem too pleased with the display, and shut the book angrily. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" Grabbing his hat and staff from the thoroughly fazed Pippin, he turned around and began to walk away when…he stopped. Yuna felt her stomach knot as a reverberating boom rang around the room. This was it; they remained hidden no longer, and whatever it was they were hiding from, was now fully awake.
"We must leave now!" She was slightly alarmed at how shaky her voice sounded, clearing her throat, she continued. "If we don't, the only thing left to greet us will be death." Her voice seemed to go unnoticed as the company looked about them. 'Why won't they listen! There's no way they can take on the entirety of the Moria Orcs! Even if I fight with them, we would not be able to hold them all.' If an army of Dwarves couldn't hold against them, what chance did just ten fighters have? The screeches were now distinct from down the hall. 'If this is to be my last fight' She decided. 'I might as well make it a good one.' She located an axe that wasn't entirely blunt, and ran her bonds up and down a few times before they were weak enough to break apart. Gandalf and Aragorn looked in her direction briefly, but had more pressing matters to deal with then an escaping prisoner. A flash of blue from the direction of the drawn Sting indicated the culture of their rapidly approaching enemy.
"Orcs!" The elf exclaimed. Boromir hurried to the entrance just in time to see two arrows barely miss his face and embed themselves in the door.
'Too late to run now…'"Get back!" Shouted the Ranger, "Stay close to Gandalf!" The Hobbits obediently congregated around the grey wizard.
"They have a Cave Troll." Boromir said ironically, heaving the doors shut whilst being aided by Aragorn. Legolas threw them a long axe to bar he doors with; Yuna grabbed two more and helped them barricade the entrance as best they could. She shook off the few glances she got from her hands being free as she headed towards Pippin. Rummaging around in the startled hobbit's pack for a moment, she eventually came across her crossbow and joined the elf and the human who were both aiming at the doors, there was no time to get any of her more useful close range weapons, but she still had something left up her sleeve. Gandalf and the Hobbits drew their blades, as did Boromir, Gimli was swinging his axe around madly in anticipation.
"How did you—" Aragorn started.
"Never mind." She snapped as Legolas let fly an arrow that found its mark with deadly accuracy.
"This is not your fight." He continued, still staring at the rapidly cracking wooden barrier.
"Then what would you have me do? Stand around and watch you get killed? As appealing as it may sound, I'm not about to let this god-forsaken Earth's only hope get killed in some meaningless battle." The ranger said nothing, but focused on the battle.
A few more arrows were fired, but soon, the doors gave way and the creatures charged through. There were dozens of them pouring through the now open passage, their green skin wrinkled and filthy, their horrifically twisted features, all in all, they looked very much like a kind of imp in a blender. The half-elf released a few bolts, but was forced to reveal a weapon she had so far managed to keep a secret. Frodo looked towards her just in time to see what looked like a set of three long, metal claws, each about a foot in length, intricately carved, rigidly straight, and deadly sharp. He watched, puzzled as she quickly slipped her right hand into what appeared to be a handle or grasp of some sort and thrust it into the nearest Orc and viciously twisting it ninety degrees to make sure the blow was fatal. She yanked it out roughly and brought it around to deal with a creature that had somehow thought it could take off the back of her head. Aiming a roundhouse kick that took out any Goblins within a metre radius, she had to scold herself for enjoying it. This was a fight, and an important one too, one she might very well die in. There were an impossible number of minions swarming around them and only ten fighters to deal with them, four of whom barely knew how to swing a blade.
A small voice in the back of her head told her to stop being so pessimistic and focus on the good side of things. 'Let's see…' She counted her reasons to be cheerful. They fit on one hand. There was no way she was going to walk out of this alive. No way that the fellowship were going to make it out of the Mines unscathed, if at all. If all that she had heard about the great force that bombarded Moria and overthrew the Dwarves was true, this could very well be the case.
They couldn't win.
The odds were impossible.
'Just the way I like them.'
Yuna had missed simple hand-to-hand combat, and now was realising just how long it had been since she had a decent workout. The reptilian monstrosities she had met recently were hardly a challenge, and she couldn't help but enjoy the chance to stretch her abilities.
These were just some of the thoughts racing through her head as she light-heartedly put another snivelling Orc out of its misery with a well-marked thrust to the mid-section of its 'face.'
An ear-splitting groan from the entrance confirmed that a Cave Troll was indeed on its way. Another foul Orc dashed into the room, hauling a chain behind him. The abominable creature entered with a loud roar, and was greeted by one of Legolas' arrows. Its hand flew to the new injury, and Yunalesca could see him clearly now. Two black, pig-like eyes were set near the summit of a face that looked as if it had been smashed into a brick wall. 'Probably has.' She reflected. Its skin was a murky grey colour, like a creature kept in the dark too long. Its body was huge and flaccid, with rolls of what she assumed to be fat sagging off it. A huge pot-belly hung over a tiny loincloth that she prayed, to whatever god was listening, stayed on.
Enraged by the way that it had been addressed, the Troll set its sights on Sam, who could only watch as the huge mace was lifted and came crashing down. Instinct gripped him as he sped between the tree-like legs at the last moment, but was quickly replaced by an overwhelming fear as a foot bore down on him. The chain attached to the Troll's iron collar was yanked back in an attempt to save the young Hobbit. Yuna dug her foot into a small crevasse and leaned backwards, putting as much force as she could onto the chain. Boromir did the same. The oversized mace came swinging round and narrowly missed a collision with her head. She looked back up just in time to take in three things. The first was the fact that Boromir had now let go of the chain, the second was that the Cave Troll was now holding the chain, the third was the simple fact that she still held the chain. By the time her brain had processed all this, she was on a collision course with the wall of the tomb. Bracing her muscles for the collision, she impacted on the rough surface and rolled off the small ledge onto the corpse-ridden floor. Composing herself, her gaze shifted to the glinting Orc blade that was heading at a shocking rate for her chest. Suddenly, it was thrown back as a dagger was thrust into it's throat, she turned to it's assailant to see Boromir nod at her before dealing with the new wave of Orcs that had arrived. Stunned, she rose and continued fighting.
Gimli tumbled off Balin's tomb and hurried away as the Troll hacked to pieces his potential opponents. Two arrows were fired somewhere near his upper-body, and its attention was drawn to Legolas. The Elven archer ducked as the great chain swiped at he ledge he was perched on, dodging the shrapnel that seemed to explode from around him. Yuna tore her focus away from this display in order to deal with the number of Orcs that had targeted her. Their numbers seemed to be waning slightly, but this would not last. She was only too aware of the great numbers of Goblins and Orcs that had stormed Moria. The attacks they were receiving now were a tiny fraction of what was yet to come.
The steel claw was dripping with the blackened blood of the Orcs; this worsened as it took out a Goblin by re-arranging its face. Another method of course was to thrust it into some unsuspecting victim's chest and as they hung there in complete shock send a bolt hurtling to a point directly between their eyes. Brutality was a way of life if you still wanted to keep yours in situations such as these. Elbowing another attacker in what she assumed to be the gut, she brought her gauntlet arm round to knock it senseless with the aid of a clenched fist. A leg was thrust around in a drop kick as she sank to the ground to avoid a twisted Goblin scimitar that swiped overhead. The beast fell to the ground, and was joined by another that endured a powerful uppercut followed by an elbow to the head.
It wasn't long before many of the Orcs in her side of the room found a home on the floor with either a boot mark or three deep gashes streaking across their face. She turned to see Merry and Pippin backing into a corner, yelling battle-cries as they lunged at their enemies. But there were too many of them. Boromir had noticed too, but had problems on his own. Backhanding her current opponent in frustration, she made a hasty calculation in her clouded head, unsheathed a small but lethal dagger from a strap around her boot, and hurled it in the direction of the Orc they didn't see. It slumped down just as Merry heard it coming and jumped back suddenly as its blade came within an inch of his throat.
Before long, she heard Frodo call to Aragorn in distress as the huge beast attacked him. The ranger lay unconscious next to him. Before she could react, the huge pike had rammed into the Hobbit's chest. That was it. He was gone. The only chance of the quest succeeding had shattered before their eyes. She watched as the various members of the Fellowship hacked away at the Cave Troll, trying to take it down as soon as possible. Making another split-second decision, she sprinted forward and vaulted onto its back, bringing back her right arm and repeatedly stabbing the creature in the neck. This wasn't such a smart move, she reflected later on, as most living things don't tend to enjoy that sort of treatment. Legolas fired an arrow directly into what she assumed was it's jugular. Its groans resounded around the hall, and with its last ounce of strength, the Troll grabbed her billowing cloak, and flung her to one side like a rag doll, tearing the robe off in the process and leaving only the remains of a hood. She rammed against a small pile of stone and curled like a hedgehog into a protective ball as a few large rocks closed her in.
The last time she had been in this particular situation, there were two large slabs covering her that served as an all-too convenient tent structure so she wasn't crushed into a bloody paste. This time, however, she had not been so lucky. Shielding her face with her arms, she risked opening an eye. The only thing that was keeping her from being mashed into said bloody paste was the fact that the entirety of her bodily strength was focused on her legs that were pressed against her abdomen and forcing the sizeable boulder above her as far away from her as possible. At the time being, this was about an inch.
Yunalesca could hear the chaos outside. Frodo had been hurt. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her when another thought seized her mind. What if he had been killed? If that were indeed the case, she would have to live with the fact that she could have saved him if only she hadn't acted so irrationally. What was she thinking? Of course Frodo had been killed. She saw the spear lunge into his chest. Nothing could have survived that. Her attention drifted to the potential earthquake caused when the Cave Troll presumably met its demise. They had won, but what about the Ring-bearer? She felt instantly relieved as his gasps reached her ears. Now she was more focused on getting herself out. Gathering up all the strength her aching limbs could relay, she positioned her arms and heaved…
Boromir, along with the rest of the company, sighed in contentment as Frodo spoke. His attention drifted from the luckiest Hobbit in Middle-Earth to the rest of the Fellowship. The Shire folk were crowded around Frodo, as were Aragorn and Gandalf. Gimli stood menacingly beside Legolas, whose sober face remained expressionless.
"Where's Yunalesca?" He asked to the group that was clustered around the fallen pillar. Nine pairs of eyes momentarily scanned the room for any trace of their prisoner.
"There." Stated the elf after a while, looking intently at a colossal boulder that somehow appeared to be moving. Following a muffled yet colourful display of course and unimaginative language that would have made a marine blush (during which, Sam felt a strong desire to cover his master's ears), the rock was dislodged and forced off. Yuna slowly got out of the small hole looking like an intoxicated feline and stumbled a few feet before picking her head up and glaring at the nine whilst trying to look as composed as possible. Which was difficult considering she was scratched and bleeding in places and her hair looked as if she'd been dragged through a hay field backwards. Her cloak had been ripped off at the neck, and the clasp was all that was left along with the hood and a small amount of material from the garment itself. Either she hadn't noticed this yet, or she just didn't care. Probably the latter.
"Fine. Don't help." Came the accusing sentence. She would have said more, but the rapidly approaching assortment of Orcs and Goblins made her decide against it.
"Quickly, we have no time for this, we must hurry on." Aragorn interjected. She said nothing, but instead opted to give him a sweet, sad look, the sort that's worth a million of the sort of words usually followed by off.
Following the old wizard's command, they made for the bridge of Kazad-dûm.
A.N. Reviews:
Lirin Seawind aka Social Misfit: Thank you, we like messing with people's minds. (Rai: grins I said people would like my weird psychology bits!)
Choccy-bo: …eyes cautiously Final Fantasy fan, aren't you? Well thank you, that is a huge compliment…sorta….we've seen the work out there so its not that surprising…..ok, we're getting big-headed, stop it!
Linawen: Linawen, Linawen, Linawen….hun, you're scary, I mean, we're scary, but you're scary. Thanks for the reviews, that's why we love you , and here's chapter eight for your viewing…er, reading pleasure (…?).
Rinoa Heartly: We're just a frickin' magnet for FF fans, aren't we? Not that we don't absolutely and completely love and adore the games and plan to take over Squaresoft when we're old enough to have an evil empire of our very own takes breath but enough of that. Keep up the good work, babe!