Chapter Twenty-five: Hrúcarë

Against all expectations, their journey further south was blissfully free from further complications. They travelled in the shadow of the Misty Mountains, all of them quieter and more subdued than before they'd attempted to scale Caradhras – except Merry and Pippin, who did a remarkable job of keeping everyone's spirits up.

They could hear the wolves howling one night when they made camp. The hobbits huddled together, pretending they weren't bothered but visibly jumping every time they heard a sudden sound.

'They aren't anywhere near us, are they?' Boromir asked Legolas quietly.

'No. A few leagues away,' the elf replied. Boromir shifted, clearing his throat.

'We're almost out of firewood. Merry, would you mind finding us some more?'

Merry startled like a deer hearing a twig snap. 'Er – Sam will!' he offered.

'Just a moment now!' Sam sputtered. 'I don't see why I should when you were the one asked!'

'This is just cruel,' Azshar said, shaking her head at Boromir with a smile.

'You can both go,' Gandalf muttered from where he was bent over a map. 'Take your argument elsewhere.'

Merry and Sam exchanged an apprehensive look as they obediently got to their feet. Azshar saw Merry double check that his short sword was still at his hip, and she got up too.

'Come on,' she said, smiling at them. 'Let's go find some wood.'

Merry and Sam hastened to her side, their faces twin expressions of relief.

'Three pairs of hands are better than two,' Sam said.

'Though we could have done it ourselves of course,' said Merry.

'Of course,' Azshar agreed as the firelight faded into the trees behind them.

'She's too soft-hearted,' she heard Legolas say in amusement behind them.

'Ruins all the jokes,' Boromir agreed.

'Wait a minute, what was the joke?' Frodo asked. Aragorn huffed a laugh.

They collected wood in the dark for a good five minutes in the trees near where they'd set up camp, the same trees that were supposedly hiding their fire from the wargs and any other onlookers. Merry and Sam competed to see which of them could carry the biggest logs, and before long the two of them had returned to the camp.

Azshar stayed among the trees, staring out into the darkness. She had the unsettling feeling she was being watched by unfriendly eyes; slowly, she bent and deposited her armful of sticks on the ground, then straightened and rested her hand on the pommel of her sword.

There was nothing moving out there, nothing she could see except the gentle sway of the grass in the starlight. But she hadn't forgotten about Maglor, or the silmaril hidden in her locket.

The locket whose password Maglor's father had known.

Azshar wondered how Fëanor knew how to open the locket. Had he ever told Maglor? Did Maglor even know that the silmaril was inside her locket? If he did, why hadn't he simply taken it from her, rather than taking Azshar herself and poisoning her?

If the silmaril was what Maglor was after, she was fairly certain he didn't know she was wearing it around her neck. He was reluctant to kill her, that was why he'd imprisoned her and sent her to sleep instead. But why?

He'd barely spoken to her when they'd travelled away from the Lonely Mountain together. No more questions, he'd kept saying. And when she'd begged him not to take her back to the cave…

He'd said there was a promise he needed to keep. A secret that cannot be uncovered.

Before she'd lost her memory, Azshar had known where the silmaril was. And there was something she recalled from the book in Mirkwood: Maglor and his brothers had sworn to their father that they would regain the silmarils, no matter the cost.

Azshar had a silmaril, but she'd kept it secret. Maglor knew she knew where it was, but he hadn't wanted her to remember. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. There was nothing to be seen on the plain. If Maglor was still tailing them, he was keeping hidden.

'Are you alright?' came Legolas' voice, and she turned to see him approaching through the trees. She nodded.

'Just… watching.'

He seemed to know what she was talking about. 'I haven't seen him since we came off the mountain track,' he said. Azshar pursed her lips.

'I think he's out there still. If my being buried on Amon Sûl for eighty years didn't put him off my scent, nor will a snowstorm on a mountain.'

'Come back to camp,' Legolas said, looking concerned and taking her arm. 'There's no use in dwelling on it.'

'There's little wisdom in lowering my guard, though,' she said, following him back through the trees.

'You are surrounded by friends here, Azshar. Hobbits aside, we're a formidable barrier to whatever might come at you from the outside.' The side of his mouth twitched upwards. 'And if we fail, I don't doubt Glorfindel will be there.'

She stopped walking, and Legolas did too, looking back at her with a frown.

'Is Glorfindel really alright?' she asked in a low voice. They were still a way from the camp, but she didn't want to be overheard.

'What do you mean?' he asked, turning.

Azshar hesitated. 'I… I don't know. I thought maybe he talks to you.'

Legolas looked exasperated. 'He talks to no one but you, Azshar.'

'But you're friends.'

'Yes. But being friends with Glorfindel doesn't necessarily mean the same thing as being friends with someone else.' She nodded slowly, and he stepped closer. 'Is everything alright?'

'Of course it is,' she said quickly. 'As much as it can be, considering… everything.'

'Then why do you ask?'

Azshar looked away. 'I never know what he's thinking. I want him to have some kind of peace, even if he can't manage to be happy. But he doesn't let me in.'

'It isn't because he's trying to keep you out,' Legolas said. 'It's just… him.'

She shook her head. 'I'm not sure you're right. He has secrets, things about him that he doesn't want me to know. He is trying to keep me out.'

There was a long silence while Legolas stared down at her, his blue eyes inky in the darkness. She knew that he was thinking about the same thing she was: their walk together from Esgaroth to the Lonely Mountain.

She'd told him that Glorfindel wasn't a bad person, and Legolas had asked how she could know. Ask him about the village, Azshar, he'd said.

'I regret bringing it up,' he said quietly. 'It isn't my story to tell. I don't even know the truth of it, you know how rumours spread. And this is the whisper of a whisper.'

'You don't think I deserve to know?' she asked.

Legolas shook his head. 'I think he should tell you everything. If it were me, I'd tell you everything. But then again, Glorfindel and I don't have the same past.'

She stared at him, pity filling her. 'I'm sorry about Tauriel,' she whispered. Legolas looked down.

'Tauriel is gone. What I am saying is that Glorfindel might have a reason to keep the secrets he's keeping, and maybe that should scare you.'

Azshar's eyebrows rose. 'You still think I shouldn't be with him.'

'I'm your friend, Azshar,' Legolas said. 'I am all too aware that Glorfindel isn't the kind of person that would make you happy.'

She felt anger rising in her at his words. 'You're his friend too,' she said. 'Don't you want him to be happy?'

'Does being with you make him happy?' Legolas asked. 'Or does it just make him more possessive, give him something to obsess over?'

'You're being cruel,' she whispered.

'I don't mean to be. I just don't think he's good for you.'

'But I'm in love with him,' she said levelly. 'I can't explain to you how he makes me feel. It's like he pulls all the parts of me back together.'

Legolas regarded her steadily. 'Since I've known you, you've had a tendency to gravitate towards the lonely,' he said. 'And we – they – feel drawn to you, because you make them feel seen. You make them feel better.'

She stared at him. 'What are you saying?'

'I'm saying that Glorfindel is lonely and broken, and maybe that's why you are drawn to him.'

Azshar curled her hands into fists at his words. 'I resent that,' she said quietly. 'When I say I love him, I mean only that. Nothing about this is me trying to – to fix him, or change him, or make him into someone you approve of. He is who he is, and I love him in spite of it. I love him for it. Can't you understand that?'

'I don't know that I can,' Legolas said stiffly.

'Then I wonder whether you really loved Tauriel, or if you just loved the idea of her,' Azshar said, and then she immediately regretted it. That was cruel, and the bewildered hurt showed on Legolas' face. He shook his head.

'I suppose there is nothing to be done for it, then.'

'I suppose not,' she echoed.

'Azshar,' came a voice, and she spun to see Glorfindel standing in the shadows, expressionless, watching them from a little way away. Legolas pursed his lips and left them alone, nodding curtly to Glorfindel when he passed. Azshar rubbed her hands together, gazing at his retreating back with consternation.

If it were me, I'd tell you everything.

'What is it?' she asked. Glorfindel shook his head.

'You were gone a while. I wanted to…' he trailed off and looked away. Something about him seemed uncomfortable, self-conscious.

'Legolas was with me,' she pointed out.

'I know,' he replied, a little too quickly. Azshar frowned at him, and he looked up at her. 'Legolas… he's your friend, yes?'

'Just like he is yours,' Azshar said.

'Of course,' Glorfindel murmured, glancing away again. She drew in a shallow breath; her patience was wearing thin tonight.

'If you want to say something, say it,' she said, taking a step forward. She willed him desperately to speak, even be angry, to say what he meant, but he just looked at her and shook his head.

'There's nothing to say.'

He was controlled, restrained all the time, like he was trying to hold himself back, hide himself from everyone around him. But she'd seen him lose control, and that was what she wanted. The Glorfindel who almost frightened her with his passion and anger and vulnerability.

That was the crux of it. She wanted him to be vulnerable, but he'd spent millennia teaching himself to do the opposite. It was too much to ask.

'Very well,' she said quietly, and she moved to walk past him back to the camp. But he caught her arm, pulling her back to stand before him.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'For what?'

Glorfindel swallowed, looking away awkwardly. 'I have trouble knowing what you want,' he said.

Azshar blinked. 'What I want?' she repeated, exasperation leaking into her voice. 'Then ask me!'

He hesitated, his hand still warm and firm on her arm. 'Do you want Legolas?'

She stared at him, fighting to keep the shock from showing on her face. 'No,' she said at last. Glorfindel nodded once, and some of the tension left his face, and she sighed. 'Why would you think that?'

'You talk to him.'

'I talk to you.'

'But I don't talk back as much as Legolas.'

She smiled wryly at his words. 'You think I want someone who will talk to me more than you do?' she asked, and she shrugged. 'Maybe you're not entirely wrong. What I wantis for you to talk to me.'

'I don't understand why you're angry with me,' he said carefully, letting go of her arm. Azshar felt a stab of remorse.

'I'm not angry,' she said. 'I'm frustrated. The night has taken a rapid downhill turn.'

He stared at her. 'You can… tell me about it. If you want.'

She smiled hollowly. 'Well. I feel like everyone knows more about you than I do.'

Glorfindel's jaw clenched, and immediately he was on the defensive. 'They don't.'

'There are stories I've only heard whispers of,' she went on. 'There are rumours that people don't want to tell me about. But I agreed I would never ask. I thought that was a fair price to pay for getting you.'

'And now you don't?' he asked with a coldness that made her heart clench in her chest.

'I remember everything you said to me by the Long Lake,' she said. 'You told me you wanted me, though you didn't know why.'

He nodded shortly, his eyes fixed on hers.

'I want you,' she said. 'I don't know why, but I want you. And I don't think anything you tell me could change that.'

'But you don't know what I could tell you,' Glorfindel said, his mouth twisting.

'Why won't you just trust me?' she groaned, her voice rising. 'Can't you see the position I'm in? I have no memory, no family, no people. You are my whole world, and you won't even tell me who you are!'

Glorfindel scoffed. She could tell he was properly angry now. 'You don't want to know who I am. You want to know what I did.'

'I want to know everything!' Azshar cried, throwing her hands up. 'I want to know the bad with the good, if that's what it takes!'

'That's the problem, Azshar,' he hissed. 'There is no good.'

'I don't believe you,' she said obstinately. 'I know you. I don't believe that you –'

'You don't know me. That's the point you've so eloquently been making.'

'If you would only –'

'I'm a murderer,' he interrupted, fury shining in his eyes and his fists clenched at his sides. Azshar fell silent, staring at him. 'The village, that's what you've heard about?'

She nodded jerkily, and he held her gaze as he went on.

'I went to a village of men, and I started killing. I walked into that town, I drew my sword, and then I killed until everyone left had run away.'

She forced herself to speak, but it came out as a dry whisper. 'Why?'

Glorfindel's eyes still held hers. 'I was angry,' he said plainly. 'I was angry, so I murdered them. Do you want to know what makes it better yet? I don't even remember why I was so angry. Is this what you wanted to hear?'

Azshar felt like she had to fight for breath. 'When?' she whispered, and he shook his head.

'Does it matter? Thousands of years ago. The Second Age.'

She exhaled slowly. 'I don't… Is this you trying to push me away?'

His voice was cold, sneering, void of humour. 'That does sound like something I would do.'

'I don't understand, Glorfindel,' she whispered.

Glorfindel's face tightened. 'What, did you think it would be something sensible? Something trivial that somehow wasn't really my fault? I sought out that village, and I cut the throat of every man and woman that stood in my way. I massacred them.'

Azshar felt close to panicked tears. She stared at Glorfindel, searching his eyes for the guilt or remorse that his words failed to betray. All she saw was plain-written self-loathing.

'Can't you see the position you have put me in?' he said bleakly, echoing her earlier words. 'I don't tell you, I lose you. I tell you, I lose you.'

She stared up at him, still at a loss for words, and his jaw tightened. The fury left his face, and his expression became cold and hard.

'You could hold the silmaril without being burned,' he said in a low voice. 'Whatever happened in your past, you know you are good, pure of heart. If I took that jewel, it would scar me like it did Maglor and Maedhros.'

Azshar didn't know what to say, and Glorfindel's lips curved upwards in a horrible, empty smile. 'I'll be at camp,' he said, and he turned his back at strode away.

Azshar was left alone in the darkness, among the gently sighing trees. She didn't move. She didn't know what to do, how to react, what to believe.

I'm a murderer.

That wasn't the Glorfindel she thought she'd known. She wondered if she'd ever known him at all.


He didn't speak for three days, and Azshar had no idea how to get through to him. But then again, she didn't even know if she wanted to speak to him again.

He was now visibly angry. His expression had shifted from its usual cold neutrality to barely-restrained wrath. The hobbits steered clear of him, and so did Gimli, Aragorn and Boromir. Legolas fixed himself at Azshar's side.

'It was a mistake,' she muttered to him on the third night as they sat watch. Glorfindel had wordlessly left a few hours before to scout the area. Azshar hadn't seen him sleep in weeks.

'Which part?' said Legolas. 'Asking for the truth, or falling in love with him in the first place?'

Azshar leaned back against the rock they were sitting on. 'It's hard to say, but there's certainly a mistake in there somewhere.'

Legolas smiled faintly. 'I'm glad he told you.'

'Could you…' She stopped, hesitating.

'What?'

'Tell me the version you've heard. Of what happened at the village.'

He stared at her. 'He… massacred a village. He went there at night, killed the men and women, and then watched as the children fled. Some say it was to prove his worth, his ruthlessness to the Valar. Some say it was because he loved a woman in the village, and she rejected him.' He looked down. 'But I doubt that.'

'He can't remember why he did it,' she whispered. She felt cold inside. 'And he… he didn't say anything about children.'

'What I have heard is exaggerated. There is no doubt about that.'

Azshar clenched her jaw. 'Nor is there any doubt about the fact that he did something terrible.'

'I'm glad he told you,' Legolas said again. 'You needed to know.'

She closed her eyes briefly. 'One day I'll admit you're right. Right now, I just feel…'

She stopped, unsure how to finish the thought. She hadn't been betrayed; Glorfindel had told her from the beginning that he wasn't a good person. She just hadn't believed him. She felt shocked when maybe she shouldn't have been shocked, and that made her feel stupid, naïve.

He'd told her about what had happened after the torture. He'd mortally wounded orcs and left them to suffer before they died, but somehow she'd justified it to herself. It was revenge, she'd thought. They'd hurt him, he wanted to hurt them.

But Glorfindel hadn't tried to justify it, even if he could have. And as for the village…

He'd made it abundantly clear there was no justification for that.

'He's miserable,' Legolas said into the silence. Azshar shot him a look.

'Yes, thank you for that. I'd noticed.'

'Just wanted to make sure.'

'I'm not exactly grinning from ear to ear myself,' she muttered.

'He's miserable because he thinks he's back to being lonely,' Legolas went on. 'He's angry at himself for telling you. Or maybe for – you know. Doing it in the first place. He's embarrassed that you found out. And through all that, of course, he thinks this is just confirmation of his belief that he should despise himself.'

Azshar stared over at him, bemused. 'You really spent the seventy-seven years I was gone becoming the expert on Glorfindel.'

Legolas shrugged. 'He doesn't talk much. I spent many a long day trying to get information out of him any way I could.'

She shook her head and looked back out at the plains. 'Valar. I don't know what to do. How are you friends with him, having known this all along?'

'You know –' Legolas began, but then he shook his head at himself. 'I need to stop putting my opinion where it doesn't belong.'

'Say it,' Azshar said listlessly. 'It's better than the nothing I've come up with.'

He shifted to face her squarely. 'What you found out about him, did it make you stop loving him?'

She threaded her fingers together. 'You know it isn't as simple as that.'

'So you still love him, and he still loves you, and being apart makes you both unhappy,' Legolas said. 'Sometimes it is that simple.'

'And what of the village? Just pretend it never happened?' she said bleakly. 'I don't think that will work for me.'

'Glorfindel isn't asking you to accept what he did as right,' he replied. 'But for better or worse, now you know. Give him a chance to live beyond his past, because he'll have to do it with or without you.'

'Everything is so hard with him,' Azshar murmured, putting her face in her hands. Legolas didn't reply, but she knew he was right. She just wished…

She wished Glorfindel had never done such a thing. She wished the Valar hadn't put the weight of the world on his shoulders. She wished her own mysterious history didn't keep inserting itself between them.

She wished a lot of things.

Half an hour later, Glorfindel returned to the camp. He stopped a few yards from Azshar and Legolas, his eyes fixed on her, hesitating. Legolas stood up.

'I'm going to go… count the stars on the other side of the sky,' he muttered, and he walked away, leaving the two of them alone. Azshar held Glorfindel's gaze, her heart in her throat, no idea of what to say. She hadn't expected him to be the one to approach her. It was Glorfindel who broke the silence.

'I saw Maglor again,' he said. Azshar's hand went to her locket, her eyes widening.

'Right,' she whispered.

'It was from a distance, and he didn't see me. It seems he's bent on following us, but he's not risking a confrontation yet.'

She nodded numbly, her hand still a fist around the locket. Glorfindel took a step closer, his face betraying nothing.

'I want to tell you that… no matter how things are between us, I will protect you from him,' he said, a slight, jealous edge to his voice. 'You owe me nothing. You don't need to talk to me. But I'll be there, if you'll allow it, and he won't come near you.'

Wordlessly, Azshar stood and wrapped her arms around Glorfindel. He stiffened, going dead still, but she didn't pull away.

'I owe you my life at least,' she whispered into his shoulder. 'Don't you think?'

'Azshar…'

'I want to talk to you,' she said. 'Wherever I am, I want you to be there.'

His hands landed, feather-light, on her waist. 'You might change your mind,' he said unsteadily, and it made her heart hurt in her chest. She didn't know how to balance her need for Glorfindel with what she now knew about him, but she needed to do it for her own sake as much as for his.

'I love you, and you deserve to be loved,' she whispered.

He was still for another second, then two, then three – but then his resolve wavered, and it was like a dam broke. He made a small sound in his throat and hugged her tightly, crushing her against him. He buried his face in her neck, dragging in deep, unsteady breaths.

She held him tightly, relief coursing through her at the mere gesture of touching him. She felt whole again, safe again. She squeezed her eyes shut and let his warmth ebb into her. Her head told her it was wrong, but her heart said otherwise.

It was an eternity before he pulled away enough to bring his hands up to cup her face. There was an intense light in his eyes as he stared at her.

'You deserve so much better,' he breathed.

'I don't know who I am,' she said. 'So how can we know what I deserve?'

He kissed her achingly, furiously, with the intensity that washed her away and made her feel powerful all at once. She was breathless when he pulled away.

'Maglor won't touch you,' he whispered against her lips. 'You're mine.'

She ran the tips of her fingers across his cheekbone. 'The sun is coming up,' she breathed. Glorfindel kissed her once more, quickly.

'Come back to camp. I need to talk to Gandalf.'

'What for?' she asked, threading her fingers with his when he took her hand.

'Maglor isn't the only person I saw out there.'

Gandalf and Gimli were awake and by the fire when they reached the camp, dawn slowly staining the sky. Aragorn and Boromir were still shadowy huddles under their cloaks, and there was snoring emanating from one of the four hobbits.

Glorfindel dropped Azshar's hand when they stepped into view, but she didn't mind. Gandalf watched them both approach, and Azshar thought she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. But when they stopped and sat by him, he just looked his usual vaguely amused.

'Maglor again, I suppose?' he asked. Glorfindel nodded.

'Nothing more to report there,' he said in a low voice, 'except that it's definitely him. But there was something else too.'

'Oh?' the wizard said, arching one of his impressive eyebrows.

'The creature Gollum,' Glorfindel said.

'How could you know it was him?' Gandalf asked.

'Legolas has described him to me. I am certain it was him; he was unlike any other being I've laid eyes on.'

'Who is Gollum?' Azshar asked.

'Maglor might be chasing you,' Gandalf said. 'But Gollum is chasing Frodo's Ring. However, like Maglor, he will be a problem for another day.'

'So I should let him be?' Glorfindel asked.

'For now,' Gandalf said. 'I think there will be more to Gollum before his part in this story is ended.'

'How is it,' Gimli said, chiming in, 'that a Fellowship which was meant to be small and secret, has attracted two stalkers before it has even crossed the Misty Mountains?'

'It's because the dwarf walks so loudly,' Legolas said in Sindarin, coming back to join them by the fire. Azshar cleared her throat to cover her laugh, but Gandalf frowned.

'Come now. No Elvish in front of the Westron speakers.'

'He was talking about me, wasn't he?' Gimli asked Azshar, shooting Legolas a nasty look. She was saved from answering by a bleary-eyed Boromir sitting down heavily beside the dwarf.

Conversations struck up around them, and Azshar glanced over at Glorfindel. He was already looking down at her, his expression uncertain. She was inclined to think that Legolas' analysis of him had been right: Glorfindel didn't like himself, and he didn't think anyone else should either.

He was a lot more insecure than he let her see, she suspected. But if she had to tell him how she felt every day in order to make him understand, she would do it. She'd made her decision now, and she would stand by it. There were worse things in the world.

'Are you sure?' he asked in a low voice. She bumped her knee gently against his.

'Don't doubt me,' she said.


Two days later, they reached the doors to Moria. If Gimli and Gandalf hadn't known what they were looking for, Azshar thought she might have walked past it altogether. They looked like part of the grey, stone cliff face. The setting sun reflected off a still, stagnating pool nearby, bathing the landscape in orange.

'Make camp here,' said Gandalf, and Merry and Pippin collapsed to the ground dramatically where they stood. Frodo laughed.

'Why?' Boromir asked. 'Aren't we going in?'

'We'll go in once we can figure out how,' Gandalf said. 'I've come out these doors, but I've never gone in.'

'This isn't exactly the front door,' Gimli added. 'And no one actually knows we're coming.'

'What I wouldn't give for a bed,' Boromir sighed.

'I bet dwarves sleep on rocks,' Legolas said to him, and he snorted.

Azshar took off her pack with a sigh, stretching her arms above her head. Glorfindel put his things down by hers and sat on a rock, glancing over at the hobbits.

'Sam should let his pony loose,' he said. 'Even if there are dwarves in the mountains, it's no place for a pony.'

'What do you mean, even if?' she asked with a frown. 'You don't think Balin is in there?'

'He might be in there. But we don't know if he's alive.'

'Glorfindel,' she said, straightening, and he raised his hands defensively.

'He might be. I'm not trying to be pessimistic.'

'Then why say it?'

'There are stories about Moria,' he said. 'The dwarves got greedy, dug too deep, that kind of thing.'

'And what, found some kind of evil monster?' she said, half-jokingly, but Glorfindel didn't smile.

'Maybe.'

She sighed again. 'Balin is alive. Gimli thinks he's alive.'

'Then he probably is. But you should still tell Sam to let his pony loose.'

'You should tell him,' she said, and Glorfindel frowned.

'They don't like me.'

'They're intimidated by you, that's all.'

'That's why I don't want to talk to them.'

She laughed. 'They're intimidated because you never talk to them,' she said. 'It's a self-fulfilling prophecy which you have the power to break. Don't be shy.'

Glorfindel huffed out a breath, then turned on his heel and made his way over to the hobbits, who looked perturbed that Glorfindel was approaching them at all. Glorfindel looked down at Sam, who quickly got to his feet.

'You should probably set him loose,' Glorfindel said, unsmilingly but not ungently.

'How do you mean?' Sam asked politely.

'You can't take a pony into the mountain,' Glorfindel said. 'He wouldn't be able to walk around, and there would be nowhere to put him. You'll have to leave him here.'

Sam suddenly looked crestfallen. 'Really? The dwarves won't want him?'

'I'm afraid not,' Glorfindel said.

Sam looked over at Azshar, as though for confirmation of what Glorfindel was saying, and she nodded sympathetically. Sam deflated.

'Come on Sam,' said Frodo, getting to his feet. 'I'll help you set him on his way home.'

Glorfindel made his way back to Azshar, and as he walked, Merry and Pippin started muttering between themselves.

'Thought our time had come for a minute there,' Pippin said.

'I know. My life flashed before my eyes,' Merry agreed.

'Why does he always look like he's come to tell me my mother's died?'

'And that he's the one who killed her,' Merry added. 'Are he and Azshar married? Or betrothed maybe?'

'I thought they were just really good friends,' Pippin said.

'Then again, you are an idiot.'

'There is that, yes.'

'Surely Azshar would marry someone like Legolas, who likes a laugh once in a while.'

'Maybe that's the draw for them,' Pippin said. 'She makes Glorfindel a little bit cheerier, and he makes sure she's never too cheery.'

Merry snorted. 'You're an idiot.'

'Do you have much pipeweed left?'

By the time Glorfindel had reached her, his expression was only a little short of thunderous.

'Well,' he muttered. 'That's what I get for that.'

'They didn't mean for you to overhear,' she said, hiding a smile.

'Oh, well in that case…'

'It's a first step,' she assured him. 'One of many more. They'll love you by the time we get to Mordor.'

The sun had sunk below the horizon, and stars were appearing in their droves. Azshar saw her favourite, the brightest one which Glorfindel had told her about years ago on the outskirts of Mirkwood. She sighed. Its light really did remind her of the silmaril in her locket.

'Azshar!' Legolas called, and she jogged over to join him by Gandalf and Frodo. 'Look at this,' he said, pointing up at the door.

Silvery lines were glinting by the faint light of the stars, connecting and forming a delicately carved image of two trees, between which was a star. The silvery image reflected in the rippling water of the pool.

'It's called ithildin,' Legolas said quietly. 'It's elvish, it only reflects starlight.'

'That writing is elvish too,' she said, staring up in wonder. 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.'

'I suppose Narvi was a dwarf,' Legolas said.

'And I suppose Celebrimbor was an elf,' Azshar said. Glorfindel came to stand beside them, staring up at the door.

'How do we get in?' he asked.

'We still don't know,' Azshar said. 'Maybe an elf and a dwarf must shake hands before the doorway.'

'Well, we'll need to find another way through the mountains then,' Legolas said, and she laughed. Glorfindel's hand twitched towards his sword as there was the sound of a splash behind them, but it was only Pippin and Merry competing to see who could skim stones the furthest. Gandalf's hat was in his hand, and he was scratching his beard thoughtfully.

'Pedo Mellon a Minno,' Glorfindel read aloud, turning back to the door. He repeated it in Westron. 'Say friend, and enter.'

'I thought it translated as speak, friend, and enter,' Legolas said.

'I suppose it could be both,' Azshar said. 'Does it matter?'

'I suppose not,' Legolas shrugged. 'I imagine it's telling us to speak some password before the doors can be opened.'

'Elrond would love this kind of thing,' Glorfindel muttered.

'I've got it!' Gandalf exclaimed, jumping up and sweeping his hat back onto his head. 'By the very stars, I've got it!'

'Packs, everyone,' Aragorn called. 'Looks like we're going in.'

'Mellon,' Gandalf said loudly, and with a groan, the Door of Durin cracked open. Azshar turned to Legolas.

'Idiot,' she said. He snorted, and they went to get their gear.

'Merry, Pippin,' Boromir called. 'Enough throwing stones, we're going.'

'To get a hot meal, I hope,' Pippin said.

'What's wrong with my cooking?' Sam asked, sounding offended.

'It's all rabbit, that's what,' Merry said.

'You catch something else, we'll eat it,' Aragorn said, ruffling Merry's hair on his way past. Azshar smiled –

Then something cold and wet wrapped around her ankle and yanked.

She fell hard on her side and grunted, sliding over the stones towards the water. Before she could react, Glorfindel had drawn his sword and severed whatever had grabbed her – but another tentacle caught her other leg and pulled her in, dragging her under the surface at terrifying speed.

She didn't have time to take a breath before her head was underwater, and she was thrashing wildly, lungs burning after only a few seconds. She scrabbled for her dagger, drawing it at last and trying once, twice, three times to stab it.

The fourth time, the knife found purchase, and the tentacle withdrew enough for her to kick free and lunge for the surface. She sucked in a breath of air before she was yanked under again.

It was Boromir who helped her out while Aragorn hacked at whatever part of the beast he could reach. Glorfindel was wading out of the water, dragging Frodo with one arm and stabbing at tentacles with the other. Legolas was ashore, shooting arrows wherever the opportunity presented itself.

A tentacle wrapped around Boromir's neck and began dragging him backwards. Azshar grabbed his arm and hacked at the tentacle until he broke free, gasping. They stumbled forwards and out of the water, but still more tentacles followed them.

'Get into the mines!' Gandalf bellowed. 'We can't beat it! Get through the door!'

Azshar and Boromir sprinted together, hand in hand, and dove behind the huge doors. Sam hurtled in after them, followed by Aragorn and Gimli. A second later, the beast smashed violently into the stone.

'Get back!' Legolas cried, pulling Pippin with him. The door cracked under the ferocious assault, and then stones began falling. The mountainside crumbled in, and the way was blocked. Pitch darkness enveloped them.

'Did we all get in?' asked someone.

'Is everyone alright?'

'Where are the dwarves?'

'What's that smell?'

Gandalf held up a light, and they all fell silent.


Author's Note:

A (rare) serious note from me, as I've had a couple of wonderful, thoughtful comments about it:

I try to make every female character I write a strong female character – but giving female characters typically masculine traits, like being good at fighting or physically assertive, isn't the only way to show strength. Characters can have stereotypically feminine traits like kindness, compassion, and patience, which make them strong, courageous, and powerful! This is something that was central to Tolkien's writing (maybe not in terms of women, but certainly in the way that kindness and friendship are the best kind of courage, etc.), and it's the kind of thing that I'm attempting (maybe not very skilfully) with Azshar. I hope that through the rest of the story, I'll be able to show you how she came to be like this.

Thank you so much for these comments and messages, they are insightful and kind and they're keeping me on my toes. I love them! Also, shoutout to my fellow Aussies who are suffering through the magpies with me. It's tough out here. Next chapter in a week, stay awesome!

S