Chapter 6: Grief
The Fellowship continued running until they came to a large cavern-like room. Crumbling stone stairways were suspended in midair. The group came to a screeching halt as they came to a thin stairway against the wall of the cavern. They continued downward until they came to a large gap in another offshoot stairway suspended in midair. Legolas grabbed Slyan from Barak's back and jumped first, the others soon following. The group hurriedly tried to jump down the stairs, terrified at the sound, light, and particular ashy smell coming from the beast that was following them.
One of the Hobbits cried out as arrows started sailing toward them from the dark corners of the cavern. Legolas and Aragorn quickly drew their arrows and started firing back. Soon Gimli, Aragorn, and Frodo were the only ones left, and Gimli looked at the other side in trepidation. Boromir had just picked up two Hobbits and jumped across with them in his arms. Gimli obviously did not like this idea.
"No one tosses a dwarf," he said matter-of-factly. He leaped across without so much as a running start and about slipped below, were it not for Legolas grabbing him by the beard. "NOT THE BEARD!" he bellowed.
A large chunk of the stairs broke off again. Aragorn and Frodo struggled backward. Atarimae reached out with her naginata toward Frodo. "Grab on!" she urged. Frodo was terrified, but not one to argue at that particular moment. He grabbed on. Atarimae struggled with the new weight, but pulled him over successfully. Aragorn jumped over.
The travelers continued onward, driven by the beast almost upon them. They came to another large hall and they all headed toward the bridge that was now in sight.
"Over the bridge!" Gandalf urged. He froze as a large, close bellow erupted in the room. The Balrog appeared from behind a wall of flame, staring the Wizard straight in the eyes. The Wizard started back with as much determination before falling back to the bridge with the others. The Fellowship flew across the bridge, Gandalf bringing up the rear.
The group looked back at Gandalf standing in the middle of the bridge, facing the Balrog. "You cannot pass!" he bellowed at the advancing monster.
"Gandalf!" Frodo and Annamaria called.
The Balrog reared back and- was suddenly forced back as a large lance of blue fire hit it straight in the gut. The group, not the mention the Balrog, looked to find the source of the attack. They saw Slyan, now seeming to be perfectly aware, holding her hand out. In it was a ball of blue fire. She cupped with both hands and expanded them, the ball growing larger. When it was about the size of a boulder, she pitched it at the Balrog, which, now ready for another attack, was knocked back but did not fall. Slyan's eyes were glowing faintly, and there was a weak aura around her that someone was about to get hurt. Slyan snapped her fingers and moved her arm to the side in an arc, bringing it back. A whip made of blue flame, not unlike the Balrog's whip except a different color, appeared. She snapped it repeatedly.
"Where I come from, creatures like you know their place, Balrog," Slyan growled at the creature.
"This creature is beyond you, foolish girl!" Gandalf called at her. He raised his glowing staff and sword. "I am a servant of the sacred fire, wielder of the flame of Anor," he began.
"There has to be another way!" Slyan called back weakly. Her eyes rolled up and she dropped, Aragorn catching her before she hit the ground. He hoisted her into his arms. Legolas glanced at her with new respect in his eyes, then turned his eyes back to the Balrog and Gandalf.
Gandalf ignored her and continued, "The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" The Balrog brought down a sword made of fire onto Gandalf. The Wizard blocked it with a well-timed shield made of light around him.
The Balrog was now very angry, and it screamed at Gandalf.
"Go back to the Shadow," Gandalf ordered determinedly. The Balrog swung its whip at Gandalf.
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" bellowed Gandalf, bringing down his staff and sword into the stone bridge. The fellowship felt a strange wind-like energy emanate from the blow. The Balrog sprinted forward and slashed its whip, but stopped as the stone bridge crumbled beneath it. Gandalf looked at the falling Balrog and turned to rejoin the shellshocked Fellowship, who all sighed quietly in relief.
Annamaria screamed as she saw the whip come snaking back up and grab Gandalf by the ankle. Gandalf fell and dropped his staff, and hung by the stone bridge, looking not unlike Gimli slipping from the last one not too much earlier. Frodo rushed forward, but was halted by Atarimae and Boromir. Annamaria zipped forward in the air and attempted the hoist the Wizard back up, but her wings were far too weak. Gandalf started at the Fellowship.
"Fly, you fools," he told them calmly before letting go.
"NO!" Frodo screamed in agony, trying to run forward. Atarimae and Boromir held him back as he flailed wildly. Boromir lifted up the frenzied Hobbit and ran to the stairs that led out of the caves.
"Aragorn!" Boromir called to the shocked Ranger. He and the rest of the group hurried up the stairs, now driven by more arrows sailing towards them. The group came to a large door that thankfully required no password to open, and ran out into the cruel mountain wilderness on the other side.
The Hobbits dropped down to grieve, the majority of the Fellowship doing the same. Atarimae closed her eyes in grief, now looking somehow centuries older. Barak's shoulders were shaking somewhat, but he for the most part kept his emotions in check. Slyan was weeping weakly in Boromir's arms. He held her tighter, feeling the same grief. Gimli tried to run back into the door, but Boromir firmly held him back. Legolas was staring aimlessly into the sky, his eyes closed, and saying some Elven grieving words.
"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn called, hiding his grief. Legolas looked at him listlessly for a moment, and then moved to do what he ordered.
Boromir glared at Aragorn, "Give them a moment for pity's sake!"
"He's right. These hills will be crawling with orcs before nightfall," Atarimae said, her voice cracking slightly.
"We must reach the woods of Lothlorien," Aragorn explained, sheathing his sword and running up the hill back to the group. "On your feet Sam," Aragorn said, hoisting the Hobbit to his feet, who gazed at Aragorn with a glazed-over look.
Atarimae crouched next to Frodo, "His death will have been in vain if we do not hurry." She gently picked him up to his feet and she nodded to him.
The Fellowship continued on over rocks, gurgling creeks, and dying grasses, with Aragorn in the lead. The continued to a lush grassland and finally to the edge of the forest. Upon reaching the forest, the group slowed. They could feel the strange change in energy. The forest had something off about it… It was too serene, too calm, and felt just a tad bit foreboding.
The Hobbits and Annamaria were standing with Gimli in about the front of their little procession. "Stay close, younglings," the Dwarf warned. The Hobbits listened intently. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods."
Atarimae snuck up behind them and, knowing the story, whispered, "An Elf-witch… of terrible power." Gimli, the Hobbits, and Annamaria jumped in fright.
Gimli glared at her for a moment before continuing, "They say all who look upon her fall under her spell… and are never seen again."
"If that were true, where would the stories have come from?" asked Barak, chuckling. He was finding it terribly funny that the Dwarf was so superstitious, and that the little ones were listening to him.
Atarimae looked over and noticed Frodo looking around wildly. She put her hand on his shoulder. He yelped and almost darted off, but saw it was her and calmed down a bit.
"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily," Gimli said resolutely. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."
"Not to mention the stink of a bear coming out of its den after burrowing season," Annamaria piped up. The Hobbits and Atarimae laughed weakly, still grieving too much to fully appreciate the joke. The younglings jumped as several arrows found themselves trained six inches in front of the Dwarf's head.
The fest of the Fellowship soon noticed the hostility and stopped and looked at their would-be assailants who were aiming straight at them. Legolas was aiming his bow straight back, but visibly distressed at the uneven odds.
"The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," said a smooth voice coming from a man leaving his spot behind a tree and coming toward the Fellowship.
And that's where I'm ending it for now. I was inspired to write more despite my spastic updating pattern. I was listening to "Running Up That Hill" by Placebo for the entire chapter and it kinda got me into grief-writing mode.
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