Chance Encounter
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of putting them back where they belong after I'm through with them.
Chapter 11: Drums in the Deep.
The darkness closed in about him. He hated it; hated it so much he wanted to scream except he could not do that for fear of alerting their enemies. There was no life, save for the presence of his companions. He missed —no, needed— the voices of trees, the cool caress of the wind and the light of the sun. They told him that he lived.
The screams of dying elves —his friends and comrades— reverberated in his mind. He could see their faces, contorted with agony even as the light left their eyes. Their blood covered his hands and the earth around them, mingling with the blood of their enemies. He had not forgotten his promise to avenge them and he'd had the perfect chance…until he interfered.
Legolas glanced scathingly in Balian's direction. The blacksmith looked dejected. His shoulders were slumped and he sat with his arms around his knees. Ever since their disagreement, they had not spoken to each other. The rest of the Fellowship was as nervous as a herd of deer that knew they were being stalked. All of them kept glancing at Legolas but quickly looked away when he met their gazes. None of them dared to speak to him for fear of inducing his ire. His father was well-known for his legendary temper and although Legolas had inherited none of Thranduil's viciousness, he could still be terrifying, as they had just found out.
Gandalf's mind constantly dwelt on the incident between Balian and Legolas. It would take some time for the elven prince's temper to cool down but he knew that eventually, Legolas would be able to see Balian's reason and forgive the man. And the blacksmith did not hold a grudge, which should make the reconciliation smoother. The dark of Moria was probably hindering Legolas' ability to reason. The wizard had known the elf since childhood. Legolas abhorred dark, closed-in places. Being underground for such a long period of time was very taxing for him. He would come to his senses soon enough once he sees the sun and his beloved trees again. This brought Gandalf back to the problem at hand; he needed to get them out of Moria. He pulled his pipe from his mouth and sighed, then his brow creased and he sniffed the air a few more times. There was fresh air coming from one of the carved archways. Fresh air meant that there was an outlet…
"Ah, It's that way!" he declared, almost gleefully.
"He's remembered it!" cried Merry, a grin lighting up his face. He scrambled to his feet. The rest of the Fellowship followed suit, wearing eager expressions.
"No," said Gandalf, approaching the archway "but the air doesn't smell so foul down here." He smiled at Merry, who was standing beside him and enthusiastically peering into the darkness beyond the archway. "If in doubt, Meriadoc," the wizard advised "always follow your nose."
They slowly filed through the archway with cautious steps, apprehensive about what they would find there. The whole place sounded hollow. Their footsteps were magnified ominously in the dark. There could be a hole anywhere, just waiting for one of them to put their foot in the wrong place. Legolas shuddered. Why would anyone, save for creatures of the dark, want to make their home here?
"Let me risk a little more light," breathed Gandalf, passing a gnarled hand over the glowing crystal on the tip of his staff. The light intensified and revealed tall stone columns easily twice the height of the walls of Jerusalem. Balian's eyes widened in awe and admiration as he took in the sight. Never in his live had he seen such find craftsmanship. The pillars themselves had been cut from the rock of the mountain and they were as smooth as glass. Intricate patterns had been carved into them lovingly. This place must have been magnificent to behold in its days of glory when Moria had not been ransacked and pillaged by orcs. As it was, its beauty, although it was only a shadow of its former splendour, held them in a trance.
"Behold the great dwarven city of Dwarrowdelf," said Gandalf. His voice, although soft, was magnified by the great domed ceiling which rivalled that of any cathedral.
Gimli spotted a partially open wooden door leading into a chamber illuminated by natural light. He gave a shout and began to run towards the door, not paying any heed to Gandalf's warnings. The rest of the Fellowship ran to catch up with him. Legolas, being one of the eldar, was the swiftest. He entered the chamber first, followed by the men then Gandalf and the hobbits. They found Gimli kneeling in front of a box-like tomb, his face etched with grief and sobbing.
"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," read Gandalf sadly from the inscription carved into the smooth surface of the stone in dwarven runes. "He is dead then. It is as I have feared."
Gimli was still in denial and Boromir placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder to offer what comfort he could. Balian stood to the side and offered up a swift prayer for Gimli's kinsman and for Gimli as well. He had grown rather fond of the dwarf and hated to see his friend grieving.
Legolas and Aragorn stood behind the rest of them. "We should leave now," Legolas said to Aragorn. His voice was almost a hiss and he emphasized every syllable. "We cannot linger." Aragorn glanced at the elf. His friend was nervous and tense but Gimli deserved some time to pay his last respects to his cousin. The ranger said nothing.
Meanwhile, Gandalf had pried a heavy dusty book from a dwarven skeleton's hands. Many pages fell out or disintegrated as the wizard opened the old book. "Maybe this will let us know what happened here," he said. All eyes turned to Gandalf with apprehension and dread. Balian didn't want to know what had happened, at least, not until they were out of this horrible place of death.
"They have taken the hall and the second bridge," intoned Gandalf in his rich voice. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out…they are coming…" The wizard stopped, for these seemed to be the last words the scribe wrote before he fell. The words were ominous and made filled their hearts with cold trepidation.
A loud crash made them all jump and whip around to find the source of the noise. It was Pippin, who had been fiddling with a skeleton that was sitting at the edge of a well. The skull had fallen off and tumbled into the empty blackness. As Pippin looked up guiltily at Gandalf, the rest of the skeleton followed the skull and along with it went a heavy chain with a bucket attached, presumably used for drawing water when the mines were still occupied by civilized people. It was several moments before the clanging and crashing ended. With each sound, the guilty hobbit cringed. When it was all over, Pippin looked up to see the furious wizard's face.
"Fool of a Took!" cried Gandalf. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"
Balian thought this was slightly harsh. The hobbit did not do it on purpose. However, Pippin's actions had probably endangered them all by alerting whatever it was that killed the dwarves of their presence.
A piercing shriek came from the depths of the well; it was answered by another. Soon there was a chorus of harsh shrieks. Drumbeats followed. The sounds drew closer. Frodo unsheathed his blade. It glowed blue. "Orcs!" shouted Legolas. His eyes were full of hate.
"Stay back!" Aragorn commanded the hobbits. "Stay close to Gandalf!" Boromir went to the doors and peeked out but soon jerked his head back. Two arrows were embedded in the place where it had been moments before.
"They have a cave troll," said the Gondorian in disgust. He slammed the doors shut and Aragorn helped him to bar them with long-handled axes that Legolas was passing them. Balian positioned himself in front of the frightened hobbits and drew the sword of Ibelin. Anything that wanted to hurt the hobbits would do so over his dead body. His sides were still stiff but thankfully, he was able to take a high guard. Gimli planted himself on top of Balin's tomb. "Let them come," he snarled. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"
Legolas and Aragorn, their only archers, stood at the front with arrows fitted to their bows. Boromir was behind them, shield on one arm and blade bared, ready for anything that was to come through the door. It wasn't long before the orcs managed to hack a hole in the rotting wood. An arrow emerged from the hole but Legolas fired first. The orc fell back with a scream but it was replaced by another. Aragorn shot the replacement before the doors were broken and all the orcs rushed in.
These were smaller than the ones that Balian had first encountered during his unlucky side trip but they were no less foul. He felt only contempt for them as he cut them down. From behind him came a battle cry and the hobbits rushed forward, stabbing and cutting like little soldiers. Sam put his frying pan to good use while Merry surprised the blacksmith with his viciousness. It almost matched Balian's own.
They seemed to be winning the battle when something large, loud and grey barged in, brandishing a heavy club. It went straight for Sam who avoided being crushed by diving between the monster's legs. Legolas shot it in the shoulder, but that only angered it more. It turned its attention to the elf and things might have gone awry if Gimli had not distracted it by chopping at its legs with his axe. The troll —as that was what it was— swiped at the dwarf with its club. Gimli just managed to leap out of the way.
The troll hit out in every direction, not caring if it killed orcs or not. In the process, it smashed Balin's tomb, sending fragments of rock everywhere. It was about to attack Gandalf when Balian caught its attention. The blacksmith had been fighting orcs and he was covered in black blood. He looked like something that would haunt a man's darkest dreams. The troll lashed out at him and Balian swiftly ducked while delivering a glancing blow to the troll's upper leg.
Gandalf could see the blacksmith from the corner of his eye and he was impressed by the man's ferocity and swordsmanship. Balian was a seasoned warrior and fought like one who did not fear death. However, a little more caution would not go amiss and the wizard made a note to remind Balian afterwards. Sadly, he never got the chance until much later.
Meanwhile, the troll was once again distracted by Legolas who had fired two arrows at the same time from a ledge. The troll was trying to hit the elf with its chain and very nearly succeeded. The last attempt ended in the chain tangling itself around a pillar and thus disabling the troll momentarily. Legolas took this chance to run across the chain and onto the troll's shoulders. He stood astride the troll and shot the top of its skull. The arrow shattered upon impact.
'That thing must have a very thick skull,' thought Balian, beheading an orc.
The troll now concentrated on the hobbits and it managed to isolate Frodo. It seemed almost desperate to destroy the hobbit after so many botched attempts to kill one of the Fellowship. In his frantic state, Frodo called out to Aragorn for help. The ranger immediately leapt between the troll and the Ringbearer with a long spear in his hand, looking every bit like a knight in shining armour, except he wore no armour.
With a violent thrust and an enraged snarl, he plunged the spear into the troll's body. The troll roared in pain and for a moment, it seemed like it was dying. Unfortunately for Aragorn, trolls were extremely resilient creatures and this one was also highly annoyed. With an arm the size of a small catapult, it swiped Aragorn off his feet and threw him against the stone wall, rendering the man unconscious. The troll yanked the spear from its ribcage and was about to stab the man when Frodo made a valiant attempt to defend Aragorn. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and the rest of the Fellowship could only watch in horror as the troll first flung Frodo against a wall then drove the spearhead into the little hobbit. Frodo tried to scream, but all that came from his lips were gasps of pain. His face had gone pale. Sweat beaded his face like small diamonds. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he fell forwards, seemingly dead.
Something seemed to have snapped inside Merry and pippin when Frodo hit the ground. They leapt from the ledge they were standing on and onto the troll's head, stabbing at its scalp viciously with their short swords. The infuriated troll reached up and plucked Merry from his position on its shoulder but a quick blow from Pippin made the troll drop the young Brandybuck.
With fury that he only reserved for the likes of Reynald de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan, Balian lunged at the troll and leapt onto its back, plunging his sword in with all his might. Legolas stood in front of the troll, aiming at its neck and waiting for it to expose its throat. When the sword of Ibelin entered its flesh, the troll lifted its head and roared. At that moment, Legolas changed his target and released his arrow. The arrow entered into the troll's brain through the top of its mouth. The troll staggered, moaning. Pippin, who was still on top of it, clung on tightly. The troll stumbled, once, twice, then fell on its face and tossed Pippin to the ground. The sword of Ibelin was still embedded in its back.
Aragorn wasted no time in getting to Frodo. The man was still dazed from his impact with the wall and was crawling on his hands and knees. "Oh no," he whispered when he reached the hobbit. His face was filled with fear and grief. He reached out to lift up the little body. Imagine his surprise when Frodo gasped for breath, very much alive.
"It's alright," said Frodo breathlessly, gazing at the wide-eyed faces around him. "I'm not hurt."
"You should be dead!" exclaimed Aragorn in awe and confusion. "That spear would've skewered a wild boar!"
Gandalf smiled warmly down at Frodo. "I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," he said with eyes twinkling. Slowly, Frodo undid his shirt to reveal a very fine and well-crafted mail shirt which glittered brightly as if it had been woven from beams of starlight.
"Mithril," breathed Gimli in wonder. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."
More shrieks brought them out of their reverie. "To the bridge of Khazad-dum," said Gandalf. They followed him out of the chamber which once housed Balin's tomb and into the dwarven city of Dwarrowdelf. Orcs were streaming out from holes in the ceiling and down the pillars like a swarm of ants. The Fellowship was soon surrounded by snarling, bow-legged creatures. They drew their weapons and prepared for a battle they knew they could not win.
A/N: I used phrases from the FotR film in the chapter. Don't kill me if I didn't get them entirely right. They were all from my memory and I haven't seen FotR for a while. Anyway, thanks to my reviewers. growls at the non-reviewing readers