"First lesson: Stick 'em with the pointy end."
-George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Amelia pulled her hairband off her wrist and pulled her loose hair into a sloppy, low tail, with no other purpose than keeping her hair out of her face. She had managed to doze off once again and for a split second thought that she overheard Frodo confessing to Gandalf that he wished the Ring had never come to him, that none of this had happened, but when she pulled herself fully out of sleep, Gandalf was already lecturing Merry about following his nose when in doubt. Amelia had to take a few quick steps to catch up with them, her foot no longer hindering her. She might as well have dreamt the snippets of conversation between Frodo and Gandalf.
As an afterthought, she pulled off her coat and stuffed it into her half-empty backpack, so that she could run and pull out her sword easier.
It still hadn't sunk fully in that, inevitably, she was going to be in a fight for her life.
Amelia tested a hand on the hilt of her sword as Gandalf led them on, looking like he absolutely trusted that his chosen pathway would not lead them astray because it, apparently, smelled better than the others. Amelia doubted that he was truly placing his faith in that alone, but as always, she couldn't be certain about anything when it concerned Gandalf the Grey.
After their scattered pauses, Amelia completely lost track of whether it was night or day outside. Never had she remained underground for so long. The hobbits all stuck to her and she even held Pippin's hand, albeit with some reluctance.
Sam tugged on the sleeve of her sweater and she looked down at him as they entered another wide hallway with a low ceiling. He held up a small piece of jerky and half an apple for her to take and with a start, Amelia realized that she was famished without realizing it. She gave Sam a thumb turned upwards and a smile as she devoured her sparse meal without stopping. She noticed that Aragorn was carrying a lit torch. How he had gotten it, she had no idea, but she found that, above all, she trusted Aragorn's ability to make do with as little as possible, due to his many years spent as a ranger of the Dúnedain.
Then, she heard a low sound coming from Gimli and it took her a minute to realize that he wasn't mumbling to himself, but singing a low, mournful song.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

Amelia felt a maddening urge to ask him who he was singing about, just to be sure, but then she recalled reading the book herself and that the verse was only one of many out of the Song of Dúrin. Gimli wasn't making the song into a show or a grand gesture, he didn't draw attention to himself so others could hear the song and he probably didn't even know that she had heard him. She resolved to letting him be as he sang of chisel and stone, an unweary, hardy people and the final silence in Khâzad-Dum. Amelia failed to understand why everyone were so caught up in the elves when the dwarves had created wonders just as splendid and had a history just as much worth honoring. And she was standing right in the middle of it, in the grand dwarrowdelf.
The song would only ever have been sung properly by a dwarf, for Gimli's deep, resonating voice carried within it something that, with no need for words at all, reminded Amelia of pillars of stone, warm darkness and the fire of a forge all on its own.
Then, they rounded a corner and Amelia saw a streak of light, real sunlight, peeking out through a door torn half off its hinges.
Amelia knew that door and knew what it meant.
With a sharp cry, Gimli rushed on ahead, bumping into Amelia and two hobbits on the way and the Fellowship hurried after him, into the room, where Gimli was clutching his hairy head, his helmet cast aside, with deep sobs echoing ominously throughout the room. He knelt in front of a grave, too short to have been for a human or an elf, with runes inscribed on its dusty, white lid. The sunlight was obviously intentional, coming in through a hole specifically designed for it and Amelia had to admire the ingenuity of the dwarves, letting the sun shine on the grave in one, particular moment of the day, even as her heart clenched in sympathy for her friend, who wept out his grief on a stone floor with no comfort in sight. A skeleton leaned against the grave, clutching a weathered book in his dusty hands, and another sat perched on the edge of a wall, a spear through his chest.
Amelia stepped aside, realizing that she had frozen in the doorway, to allow those behind her to enter the room as well. They spread slowly throughout the room and Gandalf stepped closer to the grave, his clear eyes solemn and sad.
"Here lies Balin," Gandalf read the runes aloud in the common tongue, "Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." He sighed almost inaudibly. "He is dead then. It is as I feared." Amelia frowned in contemplation, as a piece of the puzzle refused to fit in.
"Not to be unsympathetic right now or anything, but… this wasn't recent. I mean, no one's been through here for a good long while. Wouldn't the dwarves, like… get a message or something? Or, not a message, but… this can't just have gone unnoticed."
"It could, if everyone here was killed before they could send a message, or they got cut off from their birds." Boromir answered grimly and Amelia acknowledged his response with a sharp nod. It made a certain kind of sense, for the enemies of the dwarves to box them in, with no means of getting help from the outside or escaping their predicament.
Gandalf knelt down to gently take the tome out of the grip of the dead dwarf and he blew the thick layer of dust off of it before he read aloud in a low voice.
"They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes… drums… drums in the deep…" Gimli's weeping quietened as he stood up and tried to regain his composure, scowling at those who looked at him with pity. "A shadow moves in the dark… we cannot get out…" He looked up from the pages, pausing before he read the final line aloud. "They are coming."
Amelia was the only one who didn't jump when Pippin poked the skeleton sitting on the edge of the empty well and it fell backwards, drawing with it a chain wrapped around its foot and an old bucket. Clang after clang after clang came, alongside loud, metallic screeching and banging and Pippin looked horrified as the noise kept echoing seemingly without end. Before then, there had been only murmuring and silence and the loud sounds made Amelia grimace and wince with each one.
"Fool of a took!" Gandalf exclaimed loudly, not caring to lower his voice since it would do them no good anymore. He slammed the book in his hands shut. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"
Then, a deeper boom came, much deeper than what an old, armored skeleton could make. Pippin and Gandalf turned back towards the well with horror in their eyes. Then, drums began to echo bag at them, quicker and quicker, and Amelia felt her breathing quicken. She heard Boromir gasp softly. Legolas and Aragorn turned towards the door where a shrill cackle came from deeper within the mine. It multiplied, until it seemed that every wall was laughing and shouting at them and Frodo drew Sting from its scabbard. Its blue glow lit up like Aragorn's torch.
"Orcs!" Legolas exclaimed with a grim face. Boromir dashed towards the open doors and looked out. Then, his head jerked back and Amelia saw two black arrows lodged where his head had been seconds earlier. Boromir looked affronted, as if the arrows had personally insulted him.
"Get back!" Aragorn shouted at him and Amelia drew Aeglos. Because it had been made by elves, it glowed as well, but its glow was white and dimmer than Frodo's. "Stay close to Gandalf!" The hobbits huddled around the wizard and Amelia took her place on the left side of Balin's grave, giving her sword a few trying swings.
"Amelia, you can't…" Aragorn began, but Amelia snarled at him.
"You just watch me." Her words were shaky, but determined, despite the fear shooting through her veins like shards of ice. Aragorn rushed to help Boromir close the door properly and, just before it closed completely, Amelia heard a deep, inhuman roar, unlike anything she had ever heard before.
"They have a cave troll." Boromir sounded irritated, as if he was remarking that it had begun to rain on a day he had planned to take a long walk.
"Oh, that's just what we needed." Amelia grumbled, despite having known about it already. Her grip on her sword was so tight it turned her knuckles white and her hands were shaking. She only watched as Legolas threw axes and planks, scattered alongside the walls, to Aragorn and Boromir, who used them to bar the door in a desperate bid for time.
Gandalf drew Glamdring with an aggressive grunt, throwing his hat aside and the hobbits drew their own weapons, despite the fact that they had had as much training with them as Amelia had had with horse riding. The door began straining, as if under many blows from the outside, and Gimli jumped up on the tomb with a snarl. Amelia noticed that, without the intense, fast-paced music that had been present in the movies, the situation only seemed that much more real, that much more hopeless and that much more intense, stressful and filled with labored breaths.
"Let them come!" Gimli hissed viciously. The darkness in his voice made Amelia vaguely uncomfortable and it only added to her nervousness. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!" Amelia wanted to punch him for making her so nervous, but she knew that she ought to turn her anger towards the orcs and so she did.
The assault on the old door increased and Amelia jumped on her feet, strangely impatient. Aragorn had drawn the bow he had been carrying on his back instead of his sword, Legolas held his own bow expertly and Boromir had his sword and shield at the ready. The three made up the first line of defense. Then came Gandalf, Gimli, and, finally, Amelia and the hobbits.
Holes began appearing in the door and Amelia spotted the tips of crude spears and axes forcing their way through the wood. Legolas let his arrow go and it went through one of the holes. A shriek came from the other side and the spear that had made the hole withdrew, but many more came to take its place. Legolas already had another arrow at the ready. Aragorn fired his own shot and hit a target through a hole, just as Legolas had and drew another in the same second the door burst and dark shapes, clad in mismatched armor pieces and haunting faces poured in like water through a broken dam. The cackling, howling and banging seemed deafening, as opposed to the silence they had all languished in for days.
Aragorn and Legolas showered the orcs with arrows, but it did little to hold them back, despite the accuracy of their shots.
The orcs were nothing like they had been in the movies. They were so much worse, because, to Amelia, they were real and not mere images on a screen. She tried to remember Arwen's words about being light on her feet, about not attempting to parry with her sword and all her other advice. Boromir launched into a series of blows so well executed that even Amelia had to admit that, while he may not be a pleasant conversationalist, he was an expertly swordsman. The speed and accuracy of Legolas made the movies seem laughable. He moved like a flying fish, never getting so near that the orcs could harm him with their filthy blades. Aragorn drew his sword when his arrows quickly ran out and his style seemed to be a mix of Legolas and Boromir, with something that was just purely him thrown in. And, in the middle of it all, was Amelia, with an elvish blade, a chip on her shoulder and absolutely no idea what she was doing.
Gimli jumped into the fray quite literally, with a bloodthirsty roar, swinging his axe in wide arches that left anyone standing a bit too close for comfort scrambling to avoid a beheading.
As the hobbits, all four of them, cried out in their child-like voices and rushed to join the battle as the orcs forced their way into the chamber, inch by inch, Amelia realized that she had frozen in place and just had time to duck as a spear sailed overhead. Then, in that moment, something changed. She had never before been in a fight for her life. She had always lived in comfort, in safety.
There's a monster inside every human, no matter their experience or origin, and it breaks out when they're forced to fight for survival, with no hope and no immediate means of escape.
Heads turned briefly when Amelia screamed like she never had before. That orc, that hideous, small, twisted hunchback of an orc had thrown a spear at her head, intending to end her life. That orc had tried to kill her.
She stabbed Aeglos through the creatures' bug-like eye as she rushed forwards, using her weight to gain momentum. Instead of the nerve-shattering, icy fear that she had expected to take control of her being the dominant feeling in her body, she felt only rage, cold, calculating and utterly without mercy. She even took satisfaction in twisting her sword before pulling it out, slick and black with blood and something she didn't want to know what was, jumping over a swinging sword trying to take her legs out beneath and slice her enemy's head half off its shoulders. Blood sprayed grotesquely out from it and she was surprised to find that she met resistance. Taking a head clean off its shoulders was a lot harder than it looked, but she didn't care as she turned away, the black blood having hit her face like a dark dash of freckles across her nose.
Her moves were clumsy, inexperienced with working through tissue, muscle and bone, but she barely registered it. The moves of the orcs weren't unlike her own, but they had more force behind them. That force made them ungraceful, slow to dodge, and Amelia used every opportunity she had. She nearly stabbed Aragorn through his side, but he dodged and didn't seem to mind too much. They were both too busy staying alive to worry about that.
The guttural roar came again and Amelia jerked towards the entrance, where a large, mutated creature burst through the walls, since it was too big to fit through the door. Rock and debris rained down upon them. The troll was bound by rattling chains and it held a metal club, with the end covered in spikes. Its head was large and wide, much like its chest and its skin was a grey color that reminded Amelia of boogers. It roared and Sam, who had been standing in front of it, roared back, though it wasn't quite as intimidating, and threw himself forwards, between the legs of the enormous foe, whose club smashed down into the floor where Sam had been mere moments ago.
Stabbing orcs left and right while avoiding a gigantic metal club and attempting not to get herself or her friends injured was hard, even in the frenzy that had taken ahold of Amelia.
The troll went after Sam, who had landed on his back and was scrambling backwards, and it raised its elephant-like foot to squish him like a bug. Then, it was abruptly and unpleasantly pulled backwards as Legolas had shot one of the orcs holdings its chain and Aragorn and Boromir had seized it, pulling at it with every scrap of strength on their bodies. Amelia had to turn away from the show briefly to save Merry from getting his head lopped off, but was then free to turn back again, though fear still pulsed through every inch of her.
The troll swung its club around in a circle, roaring in fury and grabbed the chain roughly with its left hand. Aragorn had thrown himself aside to dodge the club, but Boromir hadn't let go of the chain and his eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.
The troll swung the chain to its left and Boromir flew through the air before he collided heavily with the wall. He rolled down onto one of the small, railless balconies on either side of the room and continued rolling out over it, landing on the floor with a thump and a loud groan. He wasn't unconscious though. He sat up, shaking his hair out of his eyes just in time to see an orc looming over him. His sword had fallen from his grip and Amelia was too far away to reach him. She whirled around, managing to completely take an orc's head off and spun around again to see a knife embed itself through the orcs skull. Boromir stared at Aragorn, who gave the gondorian a short, acknowledging nod and it took her a second to realize that he had just saved Boromir's life.
Amelia had to roll away from the tomb as the troll's club came down on it in an attempt to get Gimli, who had effortlessly jumped off the grave, rolled back onto his feet and started cleaving his way through orcs. Whenever the troll tried to swing its heavy weapon at him, he ducked or rolled so that it was an orc that met its untimely end and not him, the last dwarf in Moria. However, as Amelia stabbed an orc through the stomach from behind that was rushing towards him, she saw that he had truly fallen and was about to get smashed. Then, two arrows embedded themselves in the troll's shoulder and it staggered backwards, screaming deeply in pain. Amelia rushed over in the brief opening, seized Gimli's arm and pulled him up roughly.
"If you die on me now, I swear, I will kill you." She hissed and Gimli laughed, a deep sound born from bloodlust and the bond two individuals only strike in battle. Amelia looked up to see the source of the arrows and saw Legolas standing on one of the balconies, dodging the heavy chain as the troll swung it at him like a whip. Then, when the chain wrapped itself around a pillar and stiffened, Legolas ran on it onto the shoulders of the troll and shot its thick head straight from above. The shot wasn't enough it kill it, due to its thick hide, but it still roared as it flailed around and Legolas had to jump off.
Amelia focused on what she was doing instead of the elf and hit an orc on the nose with her elbow when she was too busy stabbing another with her sword to swing at it. It screeched and Gimli's axe cleaved its head from top to mouth before it severed it. She worked well with the dwarf; they shared a witty nature out of battle and a vicious one in it and they both laughed uproariously when they caught sight of Sam smacking goblins with a battered frying pan.
Amelia heard Pippin yelling something and she whirled around, seeing the troll bringing its club down where Merry, Pippin and Frodo had been standing. Frodo threw himself to the left while Merry and Pippin went to the right.
Her distraction was costly, as a wide knife clumsily buried itself in her left arm, but she hardly registered the pain as she moved again, killing and keeping an eye on the unfolding events at the same time.
"Frodo!" Aragorn yelled, pulling his sword out of another orc as Frodo moved around a pillar to obscure himself from the troll, who looked at it from both sides, but then caught sight of the hobbit. He scrambled backwards, but the troll caught his leg in its fist and dragged him forwards as she struggled and kicked at it to no avail. Both Gimli, Aragorn and Amelia stabbed and slashed their way to him and Frodo yelled all of their names. Primal terror and rage coursed through Amelia and it only fueled the swings of her blade as she cut her way through the skin of her foes.
Aragorn reached Frodo first as he managed to nick the troll with his sword and it let him go, giving Aragorn the opening he needed to jump between the troll and the ringbearer. He held a spear he had taken from a fallen orc and, as the troll raised its arms to bring its club down, he rammed it into its stomach, forcing it to let go of the club, but that freed its hand to smack him aside. He slammed into a pillar and didn't move. Frodo rushed to him and shook him, but he had lost consciousness and didn't respond. Gimli had gotten distracted as two orcs attacked him at once and Amelia had forgotten all that she knew was bound to happen, caring only to reach Frodo before the troll did him any harm.
Frodo's attempt to escape was blocked by the troll, who had grabbed the large spear that Aragorn had stabbed it with and used it to cut him off. He was pushed up against a wall, his face paling in terror, and the troll wasted no chance in pushing the heavy spear straight into his stomach.
Even though she knew that Frodo couldn't die, that Frodo was meant to complete their quest intact and alive, the sight maddened her to the point where she couldn't string together coherent thoughts any longer. As Merry and Pippin jumped onto the trolls back from the balcony and Frodo stood, his mouth open and his eyes wide from the force of the blow, Amelia threw herself forwards and stabbed the abomination through its short leg. Then, as Frodo fell forwards to the ground, looking dead to all who did not know with certainty that he wasn't, the troll came under the combined assault of the grief of the Fellowship of the Ring. Gimli, Gandalf, Boromir and Amelia hacked at its legs, feet and anything they could reach while the two hobbits stabbed the orc in the back at the same time. The pain made the troll bend backwards, baring its neck, which Legolas shot it straight through. Its roars changed to a slow, surprised kind and it staggered, the hobbits quickly jumping off. Amelia caught Pippin and Merry landed on top of Gimli, who nearly fell over and shoved him away. Then, the troll wobbled and fell forwards, much like Frodo had done moments before and the dust rose where it landed and it did not move any longer.
With a start, Amelia saw that she had nothing more to hack at. She breathed and spun on her feet, but then wasted no time in hurrying over to Frodo, alongside everyone in the Fellowship. Instead of approaching him slowly or leaning against the pillars, having lost all hope, Amelia didn't stop and rushed down to kneel beside him, just as Aragorn was, since he had woken and was reaching out for the ringbearer with a soft "oh no".
Amelia grabbed Frodo and together, she and Aragorn turned him over to see his pale face very much alive, but gasping for air. Sam rushed to him instantly and gave Gandalf a relieved look.
"He's alive." The very words seemed to brighten the room just a bit.
"I'm alright." Frodo forced the words out. "I'm not hurt."
"You're gonna have one hell of a bruise though." Amelia remarked through gasps for air and Sam blinked at her, seemingly confused by her lack of surprise or relief.
"You should be dead." Aragorn sounded astonished and breathless. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar."
"I think there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf said warmly and Frodo's hands fluttered to his collar, which he pulled down to reveal the wondrous mithril shirt that lay beneath.
"Mithril…" Gimli breathed in awe, but then he smiled warmly at Frodo. "You're full of surprises, master Baggins."
"I hate to break this touching moment, but…" Amelia began urgently, but then, the renewed distant screeching began again and she grimaced darkly. It made her notice that she had small, stinging scratches along her jaw, blood splattered across her nose, blood seeping out of her from a large gash on the side of her head and when she looked down herself, she saw that the orcs had dared to tear the sleeves of her sweater. "They've got more."
"There will always be more." Gandalf answered seriously as she pulled Frodo to his feet. "To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm!" No one thought twice about following his orders as they sprinted wildly from the grave of Balin without looking back, though Amelia stumbled and pushed brown tangles out of her face in their wild flight out of the final resting place of the Lord of Moria.

A/N: For some reason, this chapter was difficult to write. Oh well. As always, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review behind, even if it's just two or three words!
Edit: Chapter 10 teaser is now up!