Blue sparks in woodland realm

Chapter 2: The doom of Balrog

A/N: I own nothing except my mistakes. Also, thank you so much for your reviews and follows! It is so lovely and encouraging to read that you're liking it so far, and apologies for my late update. I had been planning on continuing it quicker, but life decided that other aspects needed priority, so I had to attend to those. However, I've got a bit more time right now, so I figured I might as well put it to good use! I hope you enjoy

It had been a long walk so far, and the Hobbits were beginning to grow weary, their feet dragging painfully deep through the dirt below them. These lands were not meant for Hobbits like them, and yet they had accepted the journey and had went on without complaining.

Part of her wished they'd complain. As a matter of fact, she had wished that anyone would say anything at all.

The quietness was deafening, hearing nothing else than the quick exhalations of worn out companions. They had been on foot for over a day, and though Legolas and her were not even feeling a tingle in their toes, she knew for a fact that Men, Dwarves and Hobbits could not last as long as them.

Even Aragorn, used to the long strides in the wild, was halting his quick steps and made place for a more slower, mindful strut.

Taking in a deep breath, Erynèth gazed up ahead, and saw that Legolas had scouted ahead of all of them, easily being a good few feet ahead of them, his ears pointy and attentively listening, his ever watching eyes roaming around the landscape that thus far had not changed from the dried grasslands that they had been roaming through.

Hurrying her steps, she easily passed the group of people and joined Legolas by his side, straining her own eyes and ears as she looked where he looked. It was true that she didn't have as sharp of a hearing or sight as Legolas did, but yet, she was gifted enough to hear that evil was not far away.

Not that it ever was not nowadays.

"Legolas," Erynèth tried, her voice quietening at the strangeness of the sound of his name rolling off her tongue, not able to remember the last time she had spoken it.

His head tilted ever so slightly to her, his body tensing and his breathing halting, but yet he didn't acknowledge her. Pretended she was not even standing beside him.

It was a painful demeanour, to be overlooked by a person who once forever held you in sight. "Would you not talk to me?" Her voice was gentle, not daring to disturb the frequency in the air.

At this his head slowly turned to her, and she felt a halter to her breath as she gazed into those deep blue eyes of his, piercing through her own with a comfort that had been once known all too well to her.

His gaze travelled lower, his hair staying firmly put, not even being touched by the breeze passing by, travelling all the way down until they rested near her heart, and Erynèth subconsciously brought her hand up to her neck, letting her fingers glide and rest on the ornament around it, a sudden ease whooshing over her.

Though Legolas made no comment, he gazed a little longer as his eyebrows furrowed together ever so slightly, barely making a wrinkle on that forehead, before lifting his gaze up at her again. "There is nothing that I have to say to you."

At this he fell behind as he stopped in his tracks, leaving her to continue to walk alone.

"Let us rest now," Aragorn proposed as they had walked a few more hours, using their last remaining light before nightfall would soon set in.

Though Erynèth felt no weariness in her bones, she haltered to a stop as she looked at the little Hobbits with their mingled faces, all rubbing their legs as they huffed and puffed while positioning themselves on a big, stray rock, readily accepting some rest.

It did not sit well with her, to rest now when they were still so vulnerably open in a forsaken grassland, no shelter or retreat to shield them from danger during nightfall. They should be marching forwards, until they could rest in peace, knowing they had a mountain to hide behind, or a valley to shield in.

"It does not sit well with me, Gandalf, to be resting like this," Erynèth spoke softly through parted lips, her gaze locked upon the warried Hobbits, taking large gulps out of their leather pouches, drips of water trailing down their chins.

The old wizard hummed next to her, his gaze, too, fixated on the little ones. "I feel the sense of dread, too, but I worry that if we do not rest now, that we will not make it to safe shelter before nightfall."

Turning her head swiftly to the side, she gazed at the grey wizard, his wrinkles engraved deeply into his skin, the hairs in his beard curled and twisted as they streaked down. "It is not so much the fear of dread, but more so the look in his eyes," Erynèth said, nodding to the long, silver-haired elf who had secluded himself from the group, bouncing lightly on the tips of his feet as he hopped from one rock to the next, all the while trying to get a better look into the distance, his eyebrows dropped together.

Gandalf, following her eye of trail, dusted off his grey robes as he reached for his wand to help perch him off from where he had sat on the ground.

"Best to be on our feet again," Gandalf spoke, his low voice booming loud enough to reach Boromir, Gimli and Aragorn, all whom had strayed from the Hobbits to see what Legolas had been trying to take a look at.

Having not said all his words, an immediate protest emerged from the four Hobbits, and in particular from Pippin, who had made himself quite comfortable on the ground as he had laid upon it.

"But we have had rested for only a minute or so," the lad said, a clear frown of protest furrowing in his brows.

"Be as it might, I fear we must move quickly, if we want to make it through this night," Gandalf had said, this time raising his voice ever so slightly, just to empower it enough to let the Hobbits know that he was not up for a discussion.

Displeased as they were, the Hobbits got back on their feet, whilst readying themselves for the long journey ahead, groaning as they did, for their feet were indeed quite sore.

On they had marched, out of the grasslands, and through the dreary drylands. At nightfall they had found shelter underneath the cleavage of a long forsaken cave, and though sleep had been little for the frightened Hobbits, they had slept just enough for another day's worth march, where they moved out of these drylands, until a sniding cold hit their faces.

Through mountains packed with layers of snow had they walked, and even did they have a close encounter with Boromir, when he had stumbled upon the Ring when Frodo had slipped and tumbled in the snow.

It was from that moment on that Erynèth had let herself fall back in pace as she got into line with Frodo, offering him a smile as he returned it. It had been the look in Boromir's eyes that had got her ears tingling, and she had taken it upon herself to not stray from Frodo's side.

Upon reaching higher into the mountains, the snow storm began to pick up its pace, and the Men and Hobbits were barely able to move themselves through it. Legolas and Erynèth had fallen behind, their pace too quick and swift for the others to follow, and thus they had remained where they would not be losing sight of their companions.

The wind picked up, enough to even lift Legolas' hair from his shoulder, although it did not waver about as much as it did Boromir's. As they had marched on, Legolas removed himself from the back as he quickened his pace, easily by-passing the struggling companions, and halted up front, his eyes gazing in the distance.

He did not need to utter the words for her to understand. Danger was near, and it wouldn't be long before they'd all experience its wrath.

Erynèth quickened her pace, too, her hand gliding over the Hobbit's shoulder as they trembled on their spots, all having come to a halt when they had seen the worry in the Elf man's face.

Though her hearing was not as perfect as it was Legolas's, it was near enough for her to catch as well, and she could hear the low enchanting of an evil ahead. Though she could not understand the words, she could understand the severity of it.

It wasn't long after she had heard it that even Gandalf, with his aged hearing, had picked up the very same words, and had bellowed "It's Saruman!".

A moment of terror read on the Hobbits' faces, but then the mountain began to shift and tremble, and they all scurried towards the back of it, resting their bodies against the wall, shielding their heads with their arms as the mountain crumbled apart.

Ernyèth did not hesitate to step back herself, as well as drag Legolas on the sleeve with her, for he had still been staring off in the distance, to where the voice had bellowed from. Though his face had been momentarily taken a-back, he was quick to recover as he shrugged his arm free of her grasp.

"We must head back," Aragorn managed to yell above the storm, his words carried away by the wind as soon as he had spoken them. "Let us go through Moria," Gimli spoke, though this seemed to be the trigger for a heavy debate.

It was Gandalf who had offered Frodo the decision to make, and by will it may, they headed down into the mountains, out of the forsaken storm, until at last they reached lower regions, the snow ebbing away as their clothes left a trail from the disintegrated waterdrops.

Just in time had they managed to get their way inside, as large tentacles had appeared from out of the waters, and behind them the gateway had shut, leaving them trapped and with no choice but to go through the mountains.

Erynèth, used to be high up in the trees, and not so much on the ground, let alone underneath it, felt quite restless as they moved in the shadows, the dimly lit wand of Gandalf being their only guide through the never-ending halls.

After a long stroll they had lost their way, and had rested in the darkness as Gandalf reeled his head about as to where it was that they needed to go, and here they, too, noticed a certain shabby Hobbit named Gollum had been following them for quite a while.

"Behold," Gandalf spoke after they had risen again and had followed a trail even further down, the wizard having made up his mind, "the great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf", and let his wand shine brighter, revealing the mighty pillars that were placed all around the grand hall.

Exploring their way, they stumbled across a side entrance to an open-doored room, yet Erynèth halted slightly in her step as she let her eyes roam about the skeletons on the floor, still in their armour.

"Amarth faeg," ("They have suffered an evil fate,") Erynèth breathed softly, though it appeared her words were only heard – as well as understood – by her companion elf, whose ears pointed a little straighter as his head tilted her way, though he was careful to not seek her eyes.

At this Gimli bolted to the door and into the room, crying aloud as he went in, and landing himself upon the grave in the midst of it. "Gimli!" Bellowed Gandalf, but it was fruitless, the old dwarf had no mind for such warnings, and sobbed as he read the ruins on the stone.

Though the warning of Gandalf had been heard, they soon all started to follow Gimli into the room, but Erynèth remained outside, her eyes piercing through the darkness, still able to make out the shadows of the stone pillars.

"We must move on. We cannot linger," Erynèth heard Legolas say, and she quickly wheeled her head around to see Legolas standing near Aragorn, the latter nodding his head as his hand sub-consciously moved towards the blade on his hip.

With a snap to her left, she thought she heard something in the distance, and with that she let her leather boots fall gently to the floor as she stepped away from the stone doors, her fingers reaching over her shoulder and letting them brush against the feathers of her arrows.

Within a wink of a human eye would she be able to draw and fire, but with bated breath she kept on looking into the darkness, an eery sensation as if they weren't alone in here, and it wasn't Gollum who was causing it.

A loud banging got her reeling around and drawing her bow, but released it from its strain as soon as she found the culprit: it had been Pippin, who had foolishly awaken the darkness below, as a low drumming came from down the well.

Hearing the drums grow louder into the distance of the hall, Erynèth straightened out her bow, stepped further into the hall, firing quickly at the Orcs coming from afar, holding torches, with their backs bent double, running at her at considerable speed.

Erynèth had only been able to fire and kill a couple, before she was suddenly dragged by the pouch on her back, and a whisper flowing in her ear "Gwaem," ("Let's go,") the voice breathed, and she did not need to turn her head to know it was Legolas who was pulling her into the room.

Boromir closed the doors in time, for an arrow was almost fired at his head, and all who could fight readied themselves.

Erynèth moved herself towards the Hobbits as the men began to barricade the door with whatever they could find. Personally, she would have much rather stayed in the hall, where she could flee wherever, as well as fight, instead of locking themselves up and basically serving themselves for dinner.

The Hobbits were brave to draw their swords, but Erynèth did not dare to trust their skills with their weapons, and so she remained up front, her bow at the ready, and fired it as soon as the door broke apart, releasing itself from its barricade.

Orc after orc did she shoot down, whilst remaining at a far distance to get a better glance, but when the mountain troll came in, did she draw her sword, her fingers gliding over the metal with a sense of comfort. For an Elf it might have been peculiar, but she had always favoured her sword over her bow.

Quicker was she, when wielding her sword, and she fought and slashed at her enemies, whilst trying to keep an eye on her companions.

The battle felt long, but at last did they conquer, though with a worry for Frodo, who had been pierced by a spear of the troll.

"I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye," Gandalf said, when Frodo regained consciousness and showed the Mithrils hidden underneath his clothes, it having shielded him from any harm.

"We must go now," Erynèth whispered, and Boromir, standing on her side, nodded as he turned his head, hearing the same screeching that she had been hearing for a while now. More were coming, and though they had been successful, she doubted that they could take down all these hundreds of Orcs.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!" Gandalf yelled, and after him they all followed, though they were hindered right before they were able to make an escape. Surrounded they were, from every corner they looked, whether it was up or below, there was not a chance for them to flee from this madness.

Though her fingers were tightly wrapped around her sword, and her eyes were bouncing about the place, she could not help but wonder if after 2907 years on this earth, and after countless of terrible battles that she had thought, if she were to die like this. Trapped, and shielded away from daylight, far underneath the ground, alongside Men and a Dwarf, as well as a storm flood of enemies.

Her eyes glanced to her companions, and saw the same fear in their eyes, and for a moment she held the eyes of Legolas, and there she saw the harshness from before soften, as if he, too, realized that this might be the last time for redemption.

A roaring in the darkness seemed to be their doom as well as their luck, as all orcs fled without giving her and her companions a second glance, and without a moment of hesitation did they all continue to flee to the bridge with a Balrog right on their heels.

There, at the bridge, more orcs surrounded the place, shooting at them from a far distance, and Erynèth sheathed her sword and drew her bow, alongside Legolas, and shot at whoever they could, feeling quite victorious herself with every kill she made.

In front, Boromir had almost tumbled from the broken down bridge, yet was saved by a quick-minded Legolas who had pulled him backwards. On they went, with Erynèth in tow, shooting her way around, ignoring the protests of Gandalf, who said it would be to no use.

If she were to die today, she would at least do so fighting.

Down and down they went, with Legolas being the first to jump the gap between the bridge and the other end of it, and soon all others followed, upon hearing the roaring of the Balrog. With a bit of luck, they might just make it.

Boromir, taking Merry and Pippin underneath his arms, were enough to let the bridge crumble down even further upon jumping off it, and Erynèth swayed on her feet, though was quick to recover her balance, as she managed to dodge an arrow in time.

Squinting her eyes, she aimed for the bugger in the distance, and smirked as she watched the arrow plant itself right between the middle of his eyes.

Gimli was quick to jump upon seeing Erynèth dodge an arrow in time, but along with him came down more of the bridge, and Eyrnèth watched in distress as Frodo, Aragorn and herself were left with quite a remarkable gap to cross.

For her, it would not be the biggest of her worries, for she had crossed further distances back in her woods, but to Frodo and Aragorn, it was too big of a distance to cross.

Determined, she decided to remain with them, to shield them from harm as she would fire at the Orcs, until they would be able to join the other companions.

"Daro, Erynèth!" ("Stop, Erynèth!"), Legolas shouted at her, his eyebrows turning inwards in genuine anger as she kept firing away. She knew he wanted her to stop. He always had when she was at risk, like she was right now, swaying as the bridge began to fall apart even further, ready to let itself fall to the depths below. It had such a force that it almost tipped her over, but she had always been quite stubborn, and thus she remained standing on that rock, even though she could easily join the others at the other side.

Drawing her bow she did, firing away until the very last moment, where Aragorn and Frodo finally made the leap.

Orcs were getting angrier and angrier, and thus she remained standing on that rock, ready to fire, but right as she was about to, her bow got knocked out of her hands by an Orc in the distance, having thrown a torched rock her way.

As the bridge began to fall sideways, Erynèth was brought back to attention as her companions yelled at her, and at last did she leap forward, embracing herself as Aragorn and Legolas held her firmly in place, keeping her steady until she nodded at them, letting them know that she had found her balance and was ready to move onwards.

Run they did, but though they managed to cross the final bridge, and were ready to move themselves out, they were held back as Gandalf had lingered on the bridge, facing the Balrog, which was mighty and surrounded by grand flames, whisking about itself.

They had to watch Gandalf fall down, along with the Balrog, and they had no choice but to make a run for it, to leave him behind, for he had ordered them to do so.

Once outside, the Hobbits mourned away, whilst the Men started fighting, for Aragorn had wanted to move on, but Boromir was adamant about them being able to take a moment to mourn their loss.

Erynèth, feeling rather conflicted with how she felt, for she had known Gandalf for quite some time, decided to wander off as she let her fingers brush over the few arrows she had left, yet no bow to use them.

The arguments grew fainter, and yet a strong voice got her halting her steps.

"Man agorel?" ("What did you do?") Legolas spoke fiercely, a fire in his eyes as he swaggered her way. His bow dangled lightly over his shoulder, not having been able to correctly place it back since their escape, yet he seemed to pay it no mind.

Erynèth, confused, was about to open her mouth, but quickly shut it as Legolas reached for her sword on her hip, and yanked it away. "Û!" ("No!)" Erynèth said in protest, but as soon as she did, she could have sworn that if his glance could kill, then she would be dead by now.

He wasn't just worried, no, he was mad. And not just a little.

"Man agorel?" ("What did you do?") Legolas repeated again, and by now she could hear the others silencing their arguments, even as far as silencing their cries, all eyes turned to them.

"Dôl gîn lost," ("Your head is empty,") he continued, which was quite an insult for saying she was stupid, and she was quite thankful that besides Aragorn, none could understand.

"Am man?" ("Why?") Erynèth countered, though felt her voice grow weak as she said it. It had been too long since she had spoken with Legolas, let alone fight with him like this. It wasn't the first time he had yelled at her after endangering herself, yet, she had not expected that after all these years, he still would care.

"I thought you once had sworn to let me be free to make my own decisions," Erynèth countered, which seemed to tip him off even further.

"When they're wisely made, yes, not when they're so foolishly executed." Legolas snided back in Elvish.

Legolas could become quite frightening when angered, and she never had liked being on the end of it. Not when they weren't on good terms like they were right now. And she had a feeling, that because they weren't, the anger he was portraying outstretched the anger for endangering herself. There definitely was more to it.

With a quickness she could not comprehend he lifted her own blade to her collar, and she could hear Boromir drawing his own sword in the background, taking a few steps forward to intervene, but Legolas's words stopped him in his track.

"I see you still wear this," he spoke bitterly, this time in English, so Boromir's worries would soothe, and make him lower his sword again. The blade gently wavered over her skin, yet it wasn't close enough to touch her, just enough to lift her necklace lightly off her chest.

The necklace, a golden rose, hanging upside down, was hanging on a beaded lace around her neck, a sore reminder to the both of them of what once was, and for why it once was given to her by him.

"Am man?" ("Why?") Legolas whispered to himself, barely audible, and yet she knew better than to answer that question. She knew he was not yet ready to hear her answer. It was all in wonder to himself.

With a last lingering touch, he let the necklace fall back to her chest as he withdrew the sword, a painful conflict wavering behind his eyes as if he was debating whether to ask about it more or not. At last, he decided against it.

"I will hold onto this," Legolas spoke aloud, referring to the sword, as if he wanted all to understand that no one were to question him or challenge him in returning the sword to Erynèth. Not that she figured they would. Most of them were convinced she shouldn't be fighting along with them, anyway.

Though Erynèth wanted to be angry in turn, and yell at him for taking her sword, she knew it was not her place to be angry with him. She was in no position to make such claims, and so she kept her mouth shut as she glared after him, glad when everyone got on their feet and marched on with their journey. Some, like Sam and Aragorn, had even been kind enough to turn their backs to the fighting Elves, as if to pretend they hadn't just heard the entire thing.

Tailing behind, she felt quite useless without a weapon to spare, and did hope that they would not encounter any evil, for she was now not prepared.

It wasn't long before Pippin fell in his steps, until at last he got near her side, and gingerly lifted his head up to hers.

"Why is it you were fighting, my lady?" The Hobbit piped, clearly not worried about snooping, and it made her chuckle lightly to herself as she cocked him an eyebrow.

At this he humbled slightly, lowering his head as Merry jabbed him in the ribs with his elbows, scolding him for snooping.

"It's all right," Erynèth comforted, and at this Pippin slowly lifted his head back up. "I have been very foolish, Pippin," she spoke regretfully, lowering her head as her eyebrows furrowed together lightly.

"You knew each other already, then, yes?" Pippin asked, his curiosity taking over, though his eyes glanced curiously over her face.

Smiling sadly, she nodded. "Long time ago, indeed," she whispered, then let her eyes roam up front to the man in question. "Oh, yes, did we know each other."

At this Erynèth remained quiet, welling away in her own thoughts, and Pippin did not ask further.