Running out of the chamber and back into the great, pillared hall, Legolas was shocked to see hundreds upon hundreds of Orcs swarming towards them, from every direction. They even crawled like spiders down the pillars. Soon they were surrounded, bunched in a circle, their weapons drawn at the overwhelming mass of their snarling and cackling enemies. He could see no way of escaping this. He would possibly die here, in a Dwarven mine. He nearly laughed. Just why did everything bad, which happened to him, involve the dwellings of Dwarves?

A fiery glow blazed from around a corner at the far end of the hall ahead and a deep rumble reverberated into the hall. Shrieking, the Orcs scampered away back into the darkness until it was just the ten of them who remained in the empty hall. Something was not right and the feeling of apprehension he'd had since they had entered the mines, intensified. He turned, as did the others, towards the orange-red glow which was steadily growing brighter.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir muttered to his left. He glanced to Gandalf but the Wizard simply closed his eyes, as if he accepted some fate. Legolas felt the stirrings of an unknown fear.

"A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world." Gandalf stated quietly. The creature, now barely concealed by the distant pillars it was still behind, growled low and menacing and the rumbling noise followed its fiery light down the hall towards he and his nine companions. This was the very face of evil, he could feel it, trying to seep into him. A creature of Morgoth himself. Legolas felt his heart quicken.

Never had he faced such evil, never had he felt this almost petrifying fear. He barely noticed the comforting touch of another hand taking his. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!" Gandalf commanded and spun to lead the Hobbit's away. He couldn't move, all he could do was watch the fiery creature as it moved, slowly, towards him; a great monstrous, horned demon of fire, carrying a great fiery whip.

"Legolas, run!" He heard a familiar voice and felt his arm being tugged at but he couldn't, he couldn't. How could he beat this? He who had beaten everything in his path. Everything but…

"Legolas!" the vision of fiery evil was cut off from him, in its place, a fair face alighted by firelight, sapphire eyes sparkling. He took a breath, focusing on the elleth. "Come on, we have to get away from here." She urged and this time, when she pulled at his arm, he followed, not trusting himself to reach safety without her.

…

With Legolas, now running too, they raced after the others; Aerlaer only letting go of the other Elf once they were racing down a narrow corridor. She let Legolas go ahead, waiting a little for Gandalf, as too did Aragorn, with Frodo. There was an alarmed cry as she began following the others down a stair and slammed to a halt as Legolas managed to hold back Boromir from falling to his death. A sharp turn and they took an adjoining stair, racing down further.

Aerlaer following with Aragorn on her heels, turned back to Gandalf, the Wizard looked like he had decided upon something but there was sorrow in his eyes. It confused her. They were nearly out? Weren't they?

"Gandalf?" Questioned the Ranger, uneasily.

"Lead them on Aragorn. The bridge is near." He nodded towards a narrow stone bridge over a great, deep chasm, in the distance. The Ranger hesitated beside her as the Balrog roared from close by.

"Do as I say!" Commanded the Wizard and shoved Aragorn away from him. "Swords are no more use here." Shocked, she and Aragorn hurriedly followed the Wizard down the stair, after the others. Legolas, who was leading, stopped the others where the staircase broke away in a small section leaving a deep, narrow chasm below. Effortlessly he leapt the distance and turned.

"Gandalf." He beckoned and the Wizard leapt the narrow chasm between the stairs, the Wood-Elf pulling him to safety.

Aerlaer knocked an arrow to her bow as enemy arrows came whistling down from above, sighting the shooter she let her arrow loose, getting the Orc between the eyes. She knocked another arrow and kept watch as the others negotiated the gap with Legolas's help.

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf." She heard Gimli declare and glanced down to see her shorter companion leap the gap. He landed upon the other side but began falling back. Her heart dropped in fear before a hand shot out and grasped his chestnut beard. "Not the beard!" He cried indignantly as Legolas pulled him to safety.

"Aerlaer go." Aragorn commanded and she strode forward, leaping to distance easily. A hand steadied her shoulder, Legolas. It was an odd action, he should know she would not fall. Turning she faced Aragorn and Frodo just as the cavern, again, shook and the part of the stair they still stood upon, began to shake and crumble.

"Jump!" Gimli cried out but the stair was falling.

"Hold on. Lean forward." Aragorn instructed Frodo, holding him tightly. Aerlaer watched on, with the others as the section of stair began to tip towards them.

"Come on!" Legolas encouraged, arms ready to catch them and as the two parts of the stair connected with a crack, Legolas grabbed the Ranger and she, with Boromir, grabbed Frodo, pulling him from the edge. The remaining stair they stood upon began to shake and they collectively ran across to where it reached another level.

They ran now along another pillared hall, much smaller than the first. Aerlaer stopped abruptly, someone knocking into the back of her as the Balrog came crashing down, through stone and ash, to land before them. A wall of searing flames erupted about the evil creature.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf commanded loudly as the Hobbits cried out in fear. Aerlaer too was scared and, doing Gandalf's bidding, she ran with the others, for their lives. The bridge was narrow but none of them fell, too intent on reaching the other side.

Aerlaer turned to see who followed but, Legolas grabbed her arm, pulling her up into the narrow, stair corridor at the other side as arrows arced towards them from above. From where they waited, under cover, she could see Gandalf. He turned, halfway across the bridge, to face the advancing Balrog. He stood tall and proud, his staff held out in front of him and his sword grasped tightly in his other hand.

"You cannot pass!" His voice resonated throughout the chasm.

"Gandalf!" Called out Frodo from just before her.

"I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor…" Gandalf stated defiantly into the fiery face of the Balrog. "The dark fire will not avail you! flame of Udûn!" Gandalf's staff lit up a shield of light, brighter than the sun as the Balrog stopped and produced a blade from within its fires. Raising the blade, it brought it down on Gandalf but the staff's shield deflected the blow, sparks shooting off from the impact. The Balrog recoiled.

"Why doesn't he run?" Boromir muttered from behind her.

"Go back to the shadow." The Wizard commanded in a dangerous voice. She stepped around Legolas and nudged Aragorn. Slowly they hedged out of the entranceway and back to the beginning of the bridge. The arrows had ceased and so they jogged out further. She knew Frodo followed but her eyes were fixed on the whip the Balrog brandished menacingly at Gandalf. "You. Shall. Not. Pass! His voice boomed at the demon, echoing through the mine.

"Gandalf!" Aerlaer heard Legolas call out as, nostrils flaring like that of an angry bull, the Balrog stepped onto the bridge intent on reaching the Wizard. Unable to withstand the weight of the great demon, the bridge fell apart beneath it, crumbling away and taking the Balrog, roaring, down into the abys below. She let out the breath she'd been holding as Gandalf turned away to walk towards them.

She too made to turn back but a flicker of light caught her eye and she looked back to watch in horror as the end of the Balrog's fiery whip twisted up from the shadows and snared about the wizards retreating leg. Within moments, the whip had pulled tight and Gandalf was pulled flying back, to be dragged towards the edge. She leapt into action, alongside Aragorn, racing towards the Wizard as Frodo cried out from behind her.

"No!" She was but meters from him as he slipped over the jagged edge, hanging on barely by his fingers. She saw the look in his wise eyes, no fear, just finality which filled her with dread.

"Fly you fools!" He uttered to them before he was torn from the ledge.

"No!" Frodo screamed and lunged towards the edge, but Aragorn grabbed him, the Hobbit struggling furiously in the man's restraint. Arrows from the Orcs had started to sing past them but Aerlaer couldn't leave, she hedged towards he edge. He had to still be there. Arms suddenly grabbed her.

"We must get out of here!" She let Boromir drag her after him back to the safety of the others who were waiting, Frodo still screaming in protest. In the entrance to the tunnel, they all paused, confusion and pain coursed through Aerlaer. It couldn't be true.

"Come! I will lead you now." Aragorn declared loudly, pulling her from her swiftly forming sorrow. "We must obey his last command. Follow me!" One foot after the other, she and the others raced up the stairs after the Ranger. More than once she grabbed onto a Hobbit, helping whoever it was along for the tears which blurred their vision.

Light beamed down in shafts through the stone ceiling and encouraged, they ran all the swifter, passing into another great hall which was bathed in daylight from its eastern windows. Across this hall, there were huge, broken doors and Aerlaer ran with the others, eager to be rid of the evil which was those mines.

Orcs dashed out to meet them but, Aragorn, in his intent on leaving, sliced the leading Orc's head clean off. Aerlaer did not pay any more notice to them for they scurried away back into the shadows and she and the remainder of the Fellowship bounded down great, cracked steps. Aragorn did not stop them until they hard run until the threat of Orc arrows was well behind them.

…

Safely away from the Orc archers on the walls of Moria, Aragorn stopped them all to rest. He then went and sat alone, sword in hands, staring into the distance. Gandalf was gone. How could the quest possibly prevail without his knowledge and his leadership? Yet, he had passed the task to do just that to he, Aragorn. He was no leader. He had not walked the torn lands of Mordor. He did not know which way they should go. Come the cover of night, the Orcs would be on the hunt. On the hunt for them, for Frodo and, for the Ring.

Absentmindedly, he began cleaning his sword. Wiping away the blood of Orc and the dust of Moria. It felt as if he wiped away the memories of Gandalf. Why had he not ran sooner to his aid? Why had he lingered in safety? He turned his head slowly, gazing back towards the others. Merry and Pippin had fallen to their knees, weeping in their sorrow and Sam cried openly. Boromir and Gimli knelt, heads bowed and the Elves were a short distance away; Aerlaer upon a formation of rocks and Legolas, staring out at the pale blue sky. Aragorn turned, searching now for Frodo.

The small Hobbit stood not so far away, gazing blankly across the land. As devastated as Aragorn was, as scared and worried for the future now more than ever, he knew Frodo hurt more. Yet, he could not bring himself to yet go to the Hobbit. He needed to come to terms first with all which had happened, devise a plan. Lead the others somewhere safe.

…

Legolas had wandered off a little way, feeling deeply sad and confused. He had known the Wizard since he was a small Elfling, running around his father's halls. He always saw him as invincible. He couldn't conceive the Wizard was now dead. He was an Istari, a Maia of old, of the Valar. He could not just be gone. He was not the only one hurting, they all were.

They had all known the Wizard since they were young, in their own respective ways. He'd surely become a constant figure in their lives as he had in Legolas's own; always full of wisdom, kindness and mirth. He had been their dependable leader and now, he was gone. Legolas swallowed back the feeling of tears and shifted his gaze towards Aerlaer who sat, still upon a high group of ragged rocks.

"Get them up." He heard Aragorn speak plainly and turned his head to see the Ranger sheathing his sword.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake." Boromir argued, anguish evident in his voice.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!" Aragorn countered and, Legolas realized he was right. Come nightfall, they would all be in grave danger. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Gimli, get them up. Legolas, bring Aerlaer back." With a nod, Legolas turned and jogged towards the high rocks, towards the silhouette of Aerlaer, sitting still atop the high rocks.

She didn't turn and, he didn't know what to say. Tentativly, he placed a hand upon her shoulder. For some moments, they remained like this until, Aerlaer finally turned, gazing up at him with eyes, nearly green, with sadness.

"I thought nothing could ever harm him. He has always been so..."

"Invincible." He finished for her.

"Yes." She sighed as a single tear began to roll down her cheek. Kneeling, he brushed the tear away, finding it harder to see the elleth upset. Realizing the action was out of order, he stood again and politely held out his hand.

"We must leave now, Aragorn wants to make the safety of Lothlórien by nightfall." She nodded, placing her smaller hand in his and he immediately wrapped it in his, pulling her to her feet.

"Thank you." She said simply but he knew she didn't just mean for the hand up. He nodded but kept her hand in his, hoping it would comfort her, secretly also craving her reassuring touch to ease his own sorrowed heart. He wasn't ready to let go yet and together, they hoped down from the rocks and walked back to the others who were ready to leave.

Aragorn caught his eye as they returned, while Aerlaer spoke quietly to Gimli and, Legolas saw how his friend's gaze dropped a moment to his linked hand. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable and guilty, he gently let go of the elleth's hand, using the excuse of adjusting his quiver straps. Aragorn had looked now to Frodo but Legolas still felt exposed by him. Not that he had anything to hide; he was only offering his elleth companion comfort in their shared grief.

…

They set out, Aragorn setting them at a swift pace. About a mile east into their journey, the company came upon a dark blue and still lake which seemed to reflect the stars in the sky, although it was but an hour past noon and the sun shone brightly. It was long and oval, like a spear head thrust deep into the northern glen of the vale.

"Mirromere." Gimli said reverently. "I'd like to pay my respect Aragorn if you would but give me a moment."

"A moment yes, but do not linger any longer." The Ranger replied looking around anxiously for any hidden dangers the elves might have missed. Aerlaer had seen no danger though. Their journey, so far from the mines, had been a safe one. Still, they were still many miles from Lothlórien's borders.

"Frodo, follow me." The Dwarf beckoned before running down the slope toward the lakes edge and a pillar of stone. Frodo followed behind slowly with Sam in tow and Aerlaer trailed them half way, still wary for any unseen dangers as Aragorn and, Legolas too, were.

"This is the Balin stone. Although I cannot read what has been inscribed here." Gimli sighed, bowing his head in respect. A moment later, they hurried back up the slope to where the others were waiting. The Dwarf passed her, patting her on the arm as he went. Aerlaer was not entirely sure what the action was about but gave a small, half smile nonetheless.

On the move again, Boromir, Gimli and she, in horse form, and Legolas easily kept up and for a while, so too did the Hobbits. Aerlaer did not realize they were slowly falling behind until Legolas turned and suddenly halted.

"Aragorn." He prompted the Ranger to stop too and, turning, she jogged back along with Aragorn and Boromir. While Legolas continued to keep a keen watch to their surroundings, she knelt before Frodo and Sam and looked into their sad eyes, noting with shock the shadows in Frodo's. It has been too many days since I have paid him enough heed. She thought angrily to herself. His suffering is growing from that accursed ring.

"Do you think you can stay on if I travel smoothly?" She asked them quietly; worried their exhaustion would hinder their balance.

"I think we'll be alright," Sam said and then turned to Frodo. "What do you think mister Frodo?" Frodo nodded quietly and Aerlaer did not pry the silent Hobbit for words, knowing his grief was greater than the rest of her companions.

"Up you hop." She said and the two hobbits climbed up gratefully onto her back. "Hold on." She warned as she broke into a very slow and smooth lope and the Hobbits clung on to her mane. Aragorn ran beside her carrying Pippin and Boromir, Merry. Legolas was left Hobbit free to enable easy access to his bow if danger should arise. In this manner, they moved more swiftly and soon, many more miles were put between them and Moria. Aerlaer was glad for it but her heart felt heavier for who they had left behind.

"We will rest soon, where the rivers join." Aragorn said, panting slightly from his extra load. Barely pausing, she nodded her head and they continued on at a moderate pace for many more miles.

...

They had been following a river, the Silverlode, and soon it was joined by another river and where the two joined they plunged, bubbling down into a dell. About it stood fir trees, short and bent. Its sides were steep and covered in shrubs. At the bottom, there was a level space and Aragorn lead them down into this hidden place to rest. It was nearly three hours' past noon, the sun beginning to fall lower in the sky; they had only come a few miles from Moria, to Aragorn's dismay but, he said nothing to the others.

While Gimli, Merry and Pippin kindled a fire, using fir brush and fetched water to boil, Aragorn attended to the minor wounds Sam and Frodo had picked up in the mines. Boromir rested, leaning against his shield and the two Elves silently kept watch, standing side by side. They had very little food left but, he forced the Hobbits to eat what little dried fruit and nuts there were, along with Gimli and Boromir. He knew he and, the Elves would be able to go much longer without sustenance. He also didn't want to bother either Elf, despite being on watch, they seemed very much in their own, peaceful realm, as only Elves could be.

When the company had eaten, and rested some, Aragorn put out the fire, carefully covering any trace it ever existed. Leaving the dell, he took them to the road again. They had traveled no more than a mile when the sun began to sink below the mountain heights behind them and, the remainder of day turned to shadows. To the east, ahead of them, the sky was still thankfully pale. The Hobbits, refreshed, could keep up with the others again and, Aragorn was able to lead them on another three hours with but one brief stop.

...

Night fell darkly, the only light to guide them in the stars, the moon having not yet come out. The Elves took the lead, their keen eyes easily seeing the old road before them in the dark and Gimli and Frodo walked at the back, silently listening for any sound to suggest they were being followed. At one point, Frodo stopped a moment to listen, squinting into the darkness behind him but there was nothing there. I am sure I heard running feet. He thought but Gimli had heard nothing and the two Elves and Aragorn, ahead, did not seem concerned by their surroundings. He dismissed the sound as maybe an animal in the dark or, his own imagination and the wind playing tricks on him.

He hurried after the others, not wanting to be left behind. His heart was still heavy, it felt as if it would weigh him down until he could not get up but, he continued on, one foot after the other. A song, Gandalf used to sing, pipe half hanging from his mouth, replayed in his mind until the beat of the song was the tempo of his footsteps. It became more of a chant. The road goes ever on and on, the road goes ever on and on, the road goes ever on and on…

"Lothlórien!" Cried Legolas with a joy, Frodo had not heard in days and he looked up to see, after many miles, great silver pillars of tree trunks looming out of the darkness before them. "We have come to the eves of the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter, I have always wished to see the tree's in spring." The Elf trailed off to himself.

"We will be safe here." Aerlaer murmured, seeming a little lighter of heart too. Aragorn led them forwards and he marveled, grief slightly forgotten, at the trees stretching out tall before them. Their branches were a silver grey and their leaves, quivering in the breeze, a hint of gold. They reached over the river and road like an intricate tunnel.

"Lothlórien." Aragorn murmured almost like he greeted an old friend. "Glad I am to hear the wind in the trees. We are still a little more than five leagues from the gates but, we can go no further tonight. We will follow the road in until we are well hidden by trees and then, we will turn off the path and seek a place to rest for some hours." They walked under the boughs of the trees, Aragorn, Legolas and, Aerlaer, seeming much more content. Their relaxed manner eased his wary mind. Boromir and Gimli did not seem so calm. The Dwarf, and Man, had mentioned on more than one occasion that the Elves of these woods were governed by a Sorceress.

Frodo did not think Aragorn would lead them into such danger and, was not Aerlaer's mother from Lothlórien? Surely, they would come to no harm. Frodo noticed another stream, flowing swiftly down from the tree covered slopes and listened to the musical splashes, where the stream cascaded melodically over rocks. It then crossed their path, joining the strong Silverlode.

"Here is Nimrodel." Legolas said reverently. "Of this stream, the Silvan Elves made many songs of long ago and still we sing them in the north, remembering the rainbow of its falls."

"All is dark now and the bridge of Nimrodel is broken," Aerlaer murmured beside him. "Its waters are said to have healing properties. If you take off your boots and follow me, I will lead you safely across."

The elleth was already barefoot; Frodo had seen her discard her boots in the mines, she, like him, simply was not used to cladding her feet. She walked slowly down the bank so the others could follow her easily and stepped into the cool waters, holding the hem of her long, silvery-grey dress up a little. Frodo stepped down into the water and its coolness surprised him but, he did not feel cold, despite it being winter.

As he waded across, he found he felt more aware of his surroundings, his mind sharper, his body refreshed. He thought he now could go on but, Aragorn motioned for them to rest and sleep on the other bank. At length, the company rested silently listening to the musical lull of the waterfall. Frodo thought he could hear a voice also singing, so sweet was the falling water's sound.

"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?" Legolas asked him suddenly. Frodo nodded quietly. Legolas rarely spoke to he or the others. Save for Aragorn, who Frodo knew was a close friend to the Elf. He knew he also spoke often, usually in their own tongue, to Aerlaer. Sometimes he caught snippets of words or could pick up on the tell tale tone of friendly teasing between them. He also spoke to… No, Gandalf is gone.

He swallowed hard, an immovable lump seeming to form in his throat and realized the Wood-Elf watched him intently with those young yet ageless, deep, brown eyes. "I will sing you a song of the maiden, Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue but, this is how it is sung in Western speech." Softly and quietly the Elf began to sing, something Frodo did not expect.

"An Elven-maid there was of old,

A shining star by day:

Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,

Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,

A light was on her hair

As sun upon the golden boughs

In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,

And fair she was and free;

And in the wind she went as light

As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,

By water clear and cool,

Her voice as falling silver fell

Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,

In sunlight or in shade;

For lost of yore was Nimrodel

And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey

Beneath the mountain-lee

Awaited her for many a day

Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands

Arose, and loud it cried,

And drove the ship from elven-strands

Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,

The mountains sinking grey

Beyond the heaving waves that tossed

Their plumes of blinding spray."

Legolas voice grew quiet again and Frodo thought maybe he had forgotten the rest for the concentrated look upon his fair face.

"Amroth beheld the fading shore.

Now low beyond the swell,

And cursed the faithless ship that bore

Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,

A lord of tree and glen,

When golden were the boughs in spring

In fair Lothlórien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,

As arrow from the string,

And dive into water deep,

As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,

The foam about him shone;

Afar they saw him strong and fair

Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,

And on the Hither Shore

No tidings Elven-folk have heard

Of Amroth evermore."

Aerlaer had picked up where Legolas had left off and she finished the song quietly, looking up at the Wood-Elf who, had been watching her, along with the others.

"There be nothing more beautiful than the musical voices of Elves." Sam sighed and both immortals turned and smiled at him. Boromir murmured in agreement.

"Come; let us look for a place under the trees to camp safely." Aragorn spoke softly, sounding weary and, with a nod, Frodo rose to his feet along with the others, his heart a little lighter for the song of the Elves, which the stream beside him still seemed to lament.