The Mines of Moria. Damned place.
I look back at the entrance we had just come out of, cursing it silently. It seems to look back at me, feigning innocence. 'It is not my fault that the Wizard had died.' For Gandalf had passed into the Shadows. It still seems unreal to me, to every one of us. It seems a passing dream - nay, a nightmare.
We had to have a way to pass these mountains. Boromir had suggested the Gap of Rohan, but as Aragorn had countered, it was to close to Isengard and Saruman's lair. I had seen Aragorn and Gandalf discuss something intently, both worrying, and I knew that this had been the topic. Other than the Gap of Rohan, crossing through the Mines of Moria - Khazad-Dum - or going over Cahadras were our only choices.
Gandalf and Aragorn choosed Cahadras' Pass. But it had been blocked by a magical storm, called up by Saruman, and the snow had hard effects on the Fellowship. We had endured storms before this, but this was the worst, as this was both Dark Magick and the rage of Cahadras combined into one. I, as an Elf, can walk over snow and was not affected by the coldness, but the other couldn't and was sorely moodified by the chill. Even though I was an Elf, I could not long endure this blizzard. Elves cannot endure nature if Dark Magick and the will of Evil lies behind them.
Only one choice was left for us - the Mines of Moria.
The Dwarf, Gimli, son of Gloin, was elated. His cousin, Balin, appearently, had built a city under there. Khazad-Dum. He promised that we would be greeted and welcomed warmly, and would be taken into shelter until we wished to leave. However I do not think any of us truly believed that, not even Gimli, although we certainly wished for it.
The Mines turned out to be a grave.
Dwarves had been killed, and I sensed goblins had done the massacre. "Goblins," I hissed. But even as we turned to leave we could not. A water monster blocked our way, and it had almost gotten Frodo save for Aragorn, Boromir, and I. When I shot it - after Aragorn had gotten Frodo safely - the water monster shrieked and caused an avalanche, blocking the entrance of the Mines.
I suspected that we were being worked into a trap, each Enemy working for the cause of another.
After some time I started feeling a little sick. There were no stars nor trees to calm and soothe me, and the rocks did not talk to me. Gimli obviously did not notice it, for he was too enraptured by his relatives' and ancestors' creations. I admit that the caves were fascinating. But there was no nature, and only darkness. Only Aragorn seemed to notice that I was getting nervous by this lack of nature, and even he was preoccupied with the journey of the Fellowship. I could not bring myself to admit to the others that I was - literally - afraid of the dark.
It was a four-day long journey, across the Mines. We traveled quickly and silently, being careful not to attract any attention. It was only on the fourth day that there was any trouble.
Gimli led us to a circular room. Dwarven guards' skeletons laid there, slain, and in the middle - shining by a beam of light - was a tomb. Gandalf read the Dwarven runes. "'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.'" He sighed wearily. "He is dead, then. I feared so."
Gimli sobbed. I could understand his pain. As Gandalf picked up a book of some sorts from a nearby dead guard, dusted it and handed over his hat and staff to Pippin, he murmured, "Kilmin malur ni zaram kalil ra narag. Kheled-zâram ... Balin tazlifi." I did not understand what he had said, and I turned my attention back to Gandalf, who had begun reading the book aloud, translating the Dwarven runes. It was a journal, or a record-book.
I suddenly froze. There was a strange presence I could not percieve. Whatever it was, it spoke of trouble. "We must move on.. We must not linger," I spoke softly to Aragorn, but he only nodded and listened to Gandalf.
"...'They have taken the bridge... And the second hall.'" Gimli looked up from his grieving to listen. "'We have barred the gates... But cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes.'
'Drums... Drums in the Deep.'" Gandalf flipped over a bloodstained page. We all tensed. "'We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark.'" I began to feel uncomfortable. "'We cannot get out.'" Gandalf paused. "'They are coming!'"
We all jumped as a loud noise sounded. Pippin, looking guilty, edged away from the well-like chasm. Gandalf whipped around and applied a furious gaze to the hobbit. We all knew what had happened.
We didn't speak as waves of crashes sounded, Pippin cringing with each one. Finally, the waves stopped, and I heard Boromir exhale.
"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf snapped, shutting the book. "Throw yourself in the next time and rid yourself of your stupidity!" He snatched his hat and staff from the hobbit, who stood still, looking awkward, embarrassed, and scared.
Then drums in the deep sounded... Boom... Boom-boom... Boom.. Boom-boom-boom...
We all froze, and Frodo drew out his sword, Sting. It was glowing an intense blue. "Orcs!" I breathed. The Enemy had found us at last.
The Enemy had found us in the Darkness.
We - the eight who remain - are at Lothlorien now. We have met the Lady and Lord of Lorien, and we are getting some rest and getting ready to sleep. I will not speak further of this event, save that the demon of the deep - a Barlog - and Gandalf battled. Both fell into the darkness.
Ai, Gandalf! Could you not be wiser? Could you not have saved yourself from the Barlog? From the shadows? We had went needlessly into the Mines.
The memory of Darkness still haunts my mind. I never had understood what death had felt like. I experienced it once. When my Naneth died. It is a long time ago... Only a dull pain is in my heart, both for Naneth and Gandalf. But it doesn't hurt as I had feared. Gandalf had sheltered us from the shadows, even as he entered it.
It wasn't just the shadows I was afraid of. It was death.
I wondered if Gandalf had given me some light to prevent the shadows.
Mentaner i Numeherui
Tírien i Rómenóri…
Melme nóren sina
núra ala
Eäro…
Maiaron i Oiosaila,
Manan elye etevanne,
Nórie i malanelye?
Ilfirin nairelma
ullume nucuvalme.
Nauva i nauva...
(Olórin who once was…
Sent by the Lords of the West
To guard the lands of the East...
Our love for this land
Is deeper than the deeps
Of the sea...
Wisest of all Maiar,
What drove you to leave
That which you loved?
Yet we will cast all away
Rather than submit.
What should be shall be...)