Hi!

I'm so sorry for the wait...almost three months, I think. Thank you for the reviews since then, but I haven't updated anything for such a long time as my muse had left me...working full-time doesn't help much either :D

I hope you enjoy this chapter, a longish one. I hope you enjoy because I quite enjoyed writing it.

Please please review...I'd really like to know what everyone thinks!

Enjoy!

Onwards...

Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor, the gentle trickle of melting snow melding into the sound to create an eerie background melody. As black and cavernous as the imposing Mine was, Frodo couldn't see or begin to understand why the Dwarves would want to make their home here. Skeletal remains littered the floor, dusty, withered, both Dwarf and Goblin carcasses piled together. At first the Fellowship had tried to pick their way through the bodies, out of respect, but now, after much toil and miles and miles of stone, they had given up, their boots and hairy feet alike stepping on rib-cages, legs and skulls.

The occasional huff of breath exhaled from a Hobbit or Dwarf told of a tired Fellowship, a Fellowship that had been walking for over three days without rest. Gandalf had made them march on, deaf to their protests. It was cold under the snow-topped mountain above them, and the Company pulling their cloaks tighter around themselves.

Aragorn, with his wounds dressed expertly by Elfin hands, gritted his teeth and marched on, occasionally trailing with heavy feet. The wounds weren't as bad as first thought, and after some healing from magical hands the wounds had been sealed. Although very sore, Aragorn marched on, putting on a brave face. Occasionally, if it was required the group had to climb over a large bolder, or ascend up steep stone steps, the Ranger would feel his wounds stretch and come apart again; his tunic was now covered in blood, both new and old stains. Boromir had demanded that Gandalf slowed the pace, for Aragorn; for all of them, but Aragorn had refused to garner any special treatment.

But now it was clear this fast pace wasn't going to work.

'It feels as if my feet are turning into sieves!' Complained Sam, hopping along on one foot whilst rubbing the other, hands coming away red with blood. Small rocks and pebbles littered the stone floor, some sharp with jagged edges. As tough as Hobbit-feet were, they were still vulnerable to sharp cuts. Pippin had taken to cutting strips of unwanted cloth and wrapping them around the soles of his feet; it helped a little.

'Keep up, Samwise!' barked Gandalf, not looking back.

'For pity's sake!' Boromir threw up his hands, his shield thudding onto the floor, his sword sheathed. There were several minutes of tense silence following this, some listening for distant approaching footfall, others looking between the man and the wizard with wide eyes. The silence soon became unbearable as the two said nothing.

Boromir broke the stalemate.

'We have not had a moments rest since we set foot in these damned mines! How do you expect Frodo and the other Hobbits to march into Mordor if we keep to this pace? How do you expect any of us to? We will be long dead and Orcs will be picking our bones clean before we step foot out of here!'

Gandalf was silent, staring at the son of the Steward of Gondor, eyes narrowed. His dirty white beard was unkempt and his breath short, but he would face down Sauron himself before he admitted this; they had to keep marching; they had to exit these mines, at all costs.

'Tell me, son of Gondor, do you feel at home in this Mine?' he murmured, all eyes flicking to him.

'What an absurd question; of course not.' All eyes flicked to Boromir.

'Then why are you so keen to shorten the pace? Surely it would be better for us to put this cavernous place behind us with all haste?'

Boromir held his gaze for a few moments before dropping his eyes towards to stone floor. Legolas glanced sideways at Aragorn, who nodded fractionally, eyes drawn.

'My thoughts exactly.' Gandalf finished, dismissing Boromir and turning back towards the impending blackness that was their path ahead. 'We shall set up camp in a few hours; one night of rest should suffice us for the remainder of the journey.'

Boromir huffed, leaning down to pick up his shield, eyes glancing up at the Hobbits, who hadn't moved.

'Thanks for that.' Merry whispered, glancing around to check if Gandalf was listening.

'Our pace has quickened still' he motioned with his gloved hands towards Gandalf, who was already disappearing into the darkness, Frodo at his heels and Sam at his.

'We shall leave this Mine quicker this way' Legolas told him, long slender fingers curled around his bow.

'So you shall walk the Hobbits into an early grave?' Boromir rounded on the Elf, whose eyes narrowed. 'Are both Wizards and Elves alike ignorant of the plight of us mere mortal?'

'It is not ignorance; it is necessity. Are you blind to the corpses that litter the stone around us? Do you think they dropped dead of their own accord?'

'Do not mistake me for a fool, Elf'

'Not a fool.' Legolas looked away. 'Merely blind.'

'Blind? You truly think I am blind to the corpses around us yet it is plain to see you are blind to the pain of the Little Ones?'

'Enough!' Barked Aragorn, dark eyes flaring. 'Fighting amongst ourselves will not solve anything; we must move on.'

Boromir opened his mouth to argue when a scuffling sound echoed around them. Like claws on stone, or swords against a sheath, the noise was untraceable.

Merry twisted around, eyes narrowed as he looked into the shadows. 'What was that noise?'

'I do not know.' Aragorn's hand went straight to his sword as the scuffling was heard again. 'But I suggest we move on, make camp and utilise.'

Pippin nodded and moved on, Merry and Gimli following. Boromir sent one more searing look at Legolas and, throwing his shield over his shoulder, followed suit.

Legolas turned to follow, when out of the corner of his eye, saw Aragorn wince and falter.

'Aragorn?'

'I am fine.' Aragorn didn't turn to face his Elven friend, speaking through gritted teeth.

'You are not; you are suffering. Are the wounds still plaguing you?'

'The wounds have never stopped.' Aragorn fingered his bloodied tunic, before throwing his hands to his sides, eyes closing.

Legolas watched him silently, sensing the man was not happy. 'You are frustrated.' He murmured, watching Aragorn's pale complexion, the now scarlet tunic, his sword hanging loosely at his side.

'How am I meant to protect Frodo when I cannot walk straight? How can I fight off an Orc if I cannot lift my sword?' The frustration and desperation was clear in his voice.

'Now is not the time to despair' Legolas didn't mind Aragorn telling him his troubles; the Elf knew that if he didn't, Aragorn would seethe silently, becoming more and more angry as time passed; he would then become the most formidable adversary on the battlefield. And in this constricted, dark environment, that would be the last thing the Fellowship needed.

'It's this place.' Murmured Aragorn, walking forwards, Legolas following, reaching out a hand to steady his friend when the Man stumbled. 'I feel the eyes of the dead watching constantly; as well as those of the living.'

'I must confess I have not felt entirely settled within these catacombs; I did not say for fear of scaring the Hobbits.'

Aragorn nodded silently, eyes calmer now. 'I should not burden you with my troubles, Legolas.' He smiled and clasped the Elf's forearm, gaining a smile from his blond companion.

'You know I will always listen.'

Aragorn nodded, looking forward.

They quickened their pace.

-x-

'If we are to make it through this Mine intact, we are to rest tonight to continue without stopping until daylight.' Gandalf told his assembled group. 'We rest, we eat and then we march on. Is that clear?'

Boromir coughed. 'A small rest is better than no rest.' He reluctantly agreed, looking around. 'Is this where you intend to stop?'

Gandalf had led them into a small circular cavern, small rivulets of water running down the sides of the walls in slimy dirty trickles. There was a stone mound in the middle of the cavern, with carved messages and symbols on it. There were fewer bodies in here, mainly Dwarves who had perhaps hidden and died of starvation.

'Indeed.' Gandalf answered, settling himself down on a boulder on the corner of the mound. Boromir watched him through narrow eyes, stomach full of lead, anger coursing through him numbly. His father had warned him of the Wizard, the Wizard and the Elves. If they had taken the road to Minas Tirith then none of this would've happened. They wouldn't be stuck in this damned Mine miles underground.

'What's that?'Gimli motioned to a dark corner with a dark shape looming up the wall.

Aragorn and Legolas, who had just walked into the cavern, turned to look, Legolas striding gracefully towards the shape. Pippin bounded after him, excited for something different than stone and rock.

Gandalf looked over, leaning his chin on long fingers.

Pippin stood just in front of Legolas, whose Elven eyes saw through the darkness. The Hobbit reached out with a trembling hand, fingers trying to find a purchase. Moving forwards, Pippin walked further from the Elf, who stepped forwards, putting a hand onto his smaller companions shoulder.

Finally, Pippin found something solid and pulled. There was a sickening wet sound, a terrible cracking noise before something heavy, covered in armour fell forwards.

Legolas had merely seconds to pull the Hobbit backwards as several bloodied, decomposing, warm, lifeless bodies came crashing to the ground. Dwarven bodies, swollen and half decomposed now lay on the ground, a smell so forcibly disgusting it forced Legolas back with his hand over his mouth, overwhelmed the cavern.

But that wasn't what worried Legolas. Aragorn had darted forward as the Dwarven cascade had fallen and was now staring in amazement at what was now left in the darkness.

Behind what used to be a pile of bodies was a precariously balanced shape. The bottom was a shield, atop that was more armour, carefully and skilfully balanced, with axes holding the contraption up. There was smaller pieces of metal, more armour and even some glass right at the top.

'It's a trap.' Whispered Legolas, turning to Aragorn. 'It was a miracle we didn't set this down when the bodies fell.'

'The sounds would bring the enemy right to us.' Agreed Aragorn, moving to talk to Gandalf as the rest of the Fellowship joined them.

Whoever had laid this trap, put the Dwarf bodies against the wall as bait, had been trapped in this Mine for Ages, was obviously looking for blood, if not for meat.

Pippin however, was more interested in what was keeping this contraption standing; was it the armour or the helmet? Or maybe it was the axes either side?

Reaching out a finger, he grasped one of the spearheads.

Frodo grabbed the Ring in one hand and Sam's shoulder in the other, eyes opening in alarm as the whole cavern rang with metallic crashes.

That was when the marching started.

A nice long chapter to ease myself back in : ) Something very different from the film Moria coming up, let me tell you :D

Please let me know what you think, I am very sorry for the wait... : ( But I am back for good now...

Thank you for reading!

Review? ;D

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