Chapter 8


Everyone hurried along as fast as they could behind the gray wizard, Aragorn taking the rear to mind everyone's backs and the others all taking up varying positions as they ran. They heard goblins and orcs chasing them in a massive army, skittering and chattering all around them. The Fellowship could take on twenty orcs and goblins and their cave troll, but hundreds of orcs and goblins and whatever else hid in the dark? It was better to escape than make a stand. Enemies seemed to pour out of the walls themselves. All too late the troupe realized they were surrounded by thousands of the beasts, all of them screeching, roaring, and hissing at the ten travelers. Just then, a gurgling roar rang out above all the chaotic din. Sierra hadn't heard this roar before and she watched as a strange golden light seemed to appear in one of the distant doorways. The roar rang out again and the goblins and orcs scattered like cockroaches, screaming and swearing as they scurried back to the shadows.

"Gandalf…what's going on?" Sierra asked worriedly as the light and source of sound grew closer. Legolas, who had had his bow drawn and prepared for another shot lowered it as he stared disbelieving.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked, more than a little scared. Sierra's brain was telling her to run as far and as fast as possible and her legs shivered and twitched with want to flee. Gandalf remained silent as the last of the enemies fled back into the black of the shadows. Another gutteral roar sounded and Gandalf finally answered.

"A Balrog." He all but hissed. Sierra had no idea what a Balrog was, and she certainly didn't want to find out. She took a tentative step back and gulped nervously. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you." Sierra swore she heard footsteps. BIG footsteps. "Run!" Everyone obeyed the wizard's command, bolting as fast as their legs would carry them. Boromir was moving too fast and almost toppled over the edge of a broken staircase when Legolas caught the man around the chest and pulled him backward to the relative safety of the crumbly ledge.

"What do we do now?!" Sierra asked as she came upon the gathering group, not seeing any other path in her panic.

"Lead them on, Aragon," Gandalf commanded the man as he worked to catch his breath. The wizard indicated a narrow bridge a good long distance away along an equally narrow path. "the bridge is near." Aragorn was hesitant to leave the man behind until he was forcefully shoved away. "Do as I say!" Gandalf commanded, "Swords are no more use here!" the guttural roar sounded even closer than when they were in the hall of pillars. The Fellowship had to move and fast. They hurried along and down very narrow, rail-less stairs. Sierra all but fainted at the prospect; height was another of her innumerable fears. It was the need to get away alive that kept her on her feet. As they descended, the Fellowship was met with a broken gap in the staircase almost as large as a full-grown man was tall.

Legolas was the first to leap across and assisted the others as the Balrog grew closer. Gandalf went first when arrows started flying at them from the ledges high above. Goblins were cowards, yes, but they also were opportunists. Sierra would never cease to be amazed at Legolas' marksmanship and she watched as a figure limply fell from the rafters into the black depths below, an arrow lodged in its skull. Boromir then grabbed hold of Merry and Pippin and leaped the gap just as the staircase crumbled more. Sierra felt sick and her boots seemed glued to the stone steps as she stared at the now wider gap.

"Come on, Sierra!" Legolas beckoned to the woman. It was her turn and she was petrified, it showed on her face and in her frantic breathing. To steady herself, she remembered the last time she'd been too terrified to jump: it was a class trip to a rocky canyon and she was expected to jump from a thirty-foot-high rock into a pool of water who knows how deep. She remembered she'd counted to five and jumped successfully, so she did that again. Though, the distance was much shorter that that leap of faith, in her mind, when she'd reached five, she leaped as far as her legs would push her and found herself in the elf's secure grasp on the other side of the gap. When her feet met the stone, she moved down to make room for the others to make their jumps; she was trembling all over and felt sick for the experience. Aragorn tossed Sam across the gap where he was caught and moved down. When Aragorn moved to toss Gimli, the dwarf stopped him.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf." He said proudly as he gauged his jump. He fell almost too short and it was thanks to Legolas' quick reflexes and him grabbing hold of Gimli's gratuitous beard that the bearded man didn't drop to the endless dark below. "Not the beard!" Gimli shouted as the elf pulled him onto the safe end of the stairs. Sierra stared in horror up at Frodo and Aragorn as the steps again crumbled beneath them, leaving a gap far too large for anyone, even an elf, to leap or be thrown across.

"Frodo! Aragorn!" Sierra called to them as she dodged another goblin arrow. Suddenly, the doorway leading to the hall of pillars was began to glow and the wall crumble. The Balrog was bigger and more fearsome than Sierra thought. A boulder was knocked loose and destroyed the piece that joined the stair to the walkway. As if the world was not done, the support for the staircase the ring-bearer and ranger prince stood on cracked and threatened to topple.

"Lean forward!" Aragorn instructed and Frodo did such. Beyond anything Sierra expected, the falling stairway fell towards the other members of the Fellowship and the man and hobbit safely rejoined the group. Everyone moved swiftly down the stairs, especially Sierra who all but flew down them to get back to solid ground. At last, after frantically running for their lives, the Fellowship was almost at the bridge. Sierra was hating the dwarves for their love of spindly stairs and bridges and would take up the issue with Gimli when they'd escaped this wretched mountain.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf shouted as the rest of the group passed by. Sierra was panting and her lungs begged for air; she was thankful for her companions' steadying hands when she tripped or started to slow. Sierra was also thankful to the flames that roared beside them as they ran. Nothing was more instinctive than running from an unrestained fire. Then a massive shadow appeared from the flames, its body seemingly absorbing all the light a fire would cast on it. It had a pair of bull-like horns that framed it's comparatively small head, its long neck was adorned with a mane of flames, and its body, what they could see of it, seemed a cross between man, beast, and winged dragon. The balrog then opened its glowing maw, releasing a guttural roar that reminded Sierra of a massive flame mixed with the gurgling sounds of flowing lava and a rockslide.

Sierra shouted a curse more apt to sailors and old surly dwarves and seemed to accelerate as she crossed the bridge, not daring to look down as she raced towards the safety of the opposite end of the bridge. Soon, all but Gandalf had crossed. The wizard stood at the center of the frail bridge, staff in hand. "YOU CANNOT PASS!" He roared at the massive demon.

"GANDALF!" Frodo shouted when he saw the wizard standing there. The old man was a fool if he thought he could stop the demon. Sierra heard him cast a curse as the demon emitted a bright cloak of fire, summoned a sword of flame, and attacked. She let out a choked scream as Gandalf's shield of light withstood the blade.

"Go back to the shadow!" Gandalf threatened, his staff and sword crossed in front of him. But the demon would listen to no man and took a step onto the spindly bridge, the sword becoming a whip and lashing threateningly at the old man. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he roared, bringing his staff and sword to meet the ground before him, a white light engulfing him and then dissipating. The demon charged Gandalf and everyone held their breath as the thing fell into the abyss, roaring furiously. Gandalf turned to return to the others when the fire whip rose up and grabbed hold of his ankle, pulling him almost to the edge. Frodo went to run to the wizard and cried out to him pitifully as Boromir held him in place. Likewise, Legolas held Sierra from running to the wizard's aid and she thrashed in his grip, desperate to bring her friend back from the edge. Then Gandalf met their eyes, all of them and Sierra saw the finality in his eyes. With his last ounce of strength, he gave them one last command. "Fly, you fools." And he let go, Sierra and Frodo both screaming in denial as they were carried from the bridge and out into the daylight.

They could not go any further. Some were dumbstruck, others too tired to do anything but sit and mourn, but Sierra fell to her knees, heaved the meager contents of her stomach onto the rocks and sobbed profusely. She had come to love the wizard like she did her grandparents, he was family to her and to Frodo and a dear friend to many people all over Middle-Earth. Losing him and losing him so suddenly was beyond anything she had ever had to experience. Distantly, she heard Aragorn's command to Legolas to move. But the elf seemed loathe to move the broken woman, and so got the others first, letting her vent.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" It was Boromir, he seemed hurt by the situation as well, his strained voice giving him away. It took a great effort to steady their tears and Sierra wiped her bile-covered lips as she tried to wipe away the tears and muffle her gasps for air.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs." Aragorn responded, waving his sword for emphasis, "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien." By then Legolas had reached Sierra's hunched form. Gently, he touched her shoulder and noted the tear streaks and smears on her dirtied face when she looked at him. With a sniffle and a gasping breath to steady herself, she nodded and slowly stood, taking the elf's offered hand to steady her shaking legs. They would mourn Gandalf for the rest of this journey and his memory would strengthen them in the end. Aragorn beckoned to everyone and they moved to him, albeit slowly.

On reaching a stream halfway down the mountain, Sierra dipped a corner of her handkerchief, one that she'd gotten in Hobbiton so long ago, and wiped at her face. The tear stains were starting to itch and she needed to wash out the taste of stomach acid. Sierra rinsed the handkerchief and wrung it out before replacing it in her pocket and kneeled again to scoop the bitingly cold water in her hands and drink. The cold water froze her teeth and cooled her burning throat. She stood and took a shaky breath as she returned to the core of the group.

"Are you…goin' to be alright, lass?" Gimli asked softly as he stood beside her; she nodded silently.

"I will…it's…it's just…" She breathed deep for a moment "Gandalf was like family…" She felt a fresh pinch of tears and stopped herself short. She was not going to let herself stop to cry anymore. She had to be strong, for Gandalf.


The party reached a thick copse of trees and instantly Sierra felt safer, if more tired than ever before. The trees were old and creaked, but the air was fresh and new. Gimli whispered for the hobbits and Sierra to stay close, warning of a great sorceress, and elf witch, living in the woods. Sierra did as asked, but the forest seemed almost welcoming to her. It was a nice change from the inhospitable mountains and dank, dark caves, though it did nothing to raise her spirits.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked as Frodo seemed to glance around frantically. Perhaps the elf witch was speaking to him. As they walked, Sierra was surprised to find an arrow pointed squarely at the space between her eyes and another to her side. Even Legolas a few steps ahead was surrounded. One of them, a fair male elf, came forward. The welcoming atmosphere of the forest had worn off.

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." Sierra did not deny it and stared firmly at the elf holding an arrow between her eyes. He had long blonde hair like Legolas and a firm brow, but his jaw was softer, cheekbones more prominent, he had a faint double chin, and his eyes were a pale hazel green. He had the gall to smirk at the lone woman of the group, smug bastard. In return, she stared at him dully; any fight and fire that was in her fell with Gandalf. She knew he saw her puffy eyes and broken demeanor when the smirk disappeared to a look more curious and confused.

It was later that evening that the Fellowship was brought to an elevated platform, blonde elves, some brunettes, and even some red heads all surrounded them and a great majority wore a full quiver and carried a bow. There was no escaping. Not even a thought of escape could be formed before it was almost literally shot down. The lead stranger conversed with Legolas in that Elvish tongue and Sierra wished she knew it so she could find out what they were talking about.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves." Gimli complained, "Speak words we can all understand." Sierra silently thanked the old dwarf.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days." The strange elf all but hissed.

"And you know what this dwarf says to that?" Sierra sensed a fight.

"Gimli, hush." She whispered. The last thing she wanted was an arrow in her or her allies due to a petty argument gone wrong. But Gimli ignored her and muttered something Sierra believed to be very rude and she pursed her lips and looked away. 'Why do I even bother?' Sierra thought. Thankfully, Aragorn took charge to scold Gimli. Then the strange elf looked dead on at Frodo.

"You bring great evil with you." He said, the slightest edge of fear in his voice. Suddenly he turned and while walking away hurriedly said, "You can go no further." Eventually everyone took to resting on the platform as Aragorn argued their case in whispered Elvish. Sierra caught some names, but little else in the lyrical tongue. Frodo and Sierra were still hurting from the loss of Gandalf and so sat near each other for familiar companionship.

"Gandalf's death was not in vain." Boromir murmured comfort to the two, "Nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, Frodo. Don't either of you carry the weight of the dead." Sierra understood what he was saying. It was fine to take time to mourn, to honor the dead, but to let that take over and bring you down would be the end to everything they'd set out to do. While Sierra still needed to work to trust him fully, Boromir was a friend at the very least and she accepted his words with a grateful nod. She sighed and leaned back only to run into someone's legs. Immediately, she jolted forward and looked up at the owner of said legs. With knitted brows and a frown, she found it was the same elf who'd stared her down earlier. She saw him send a small smile downward, but she turned away, preferring to ignore the elf. Soon, the elf in charge came to gather them.

"You will follow me." And so they did, hoping he was leading them somewhere safe and that Aragorn and Legolas convinced him they meant no harm or ill will.


The party followed a long and winding path through the wood, led by the elf in charge, or Haldir as Legolas informed the others, and followed by some of the archers from earlier. When she got the chance, Sierra asked Legolas if he knew the name of the male elf that stared at her; after glancing at the offending elf, Legolas said his name was Faroth, matching the Elvish word meaning to hunt and pursue. She then quietly asked him what words in Elvish translated to 'go away'. He answered with a small smile and very simple word Sierra committed to memory 'ego'. It was a rude way to tell someone to leave, but Legolas believed Sierra wasn't in much of a mood to be polite with a strange elf.

It had taken a long while to travel the late autumn woods, but once they crested the final hill, they paused to admire a copse of massive trees too thick to know what would hide within or even let sunlight peek through the leaves.

"Caras Galadhon." Haldir said, "The heart of Elvendom on Earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." Sierra wondered if these two elves Haldir mentioned would be anything like Elrond or Arwen or if they were better represented by that Faroth elf that bothered her so much. She didn't have long to ponder and she and the others of the Fellowship were led into the intricate and rather dim pathways of Caras Galadhon. To Sierra, this city better resembled the dwarven city of Moria than Rivendell; it was dark under the thick tree branches and the paths wound around almost aimlessly. Everyone in the Fellowship reminded themselves to try to not get lost in this city's intricate and confusing network.

They were the subject of stares from many passerby elf and even hushed Elvish whispers. Sierra imagined it was due to their dirty, travel-worn appearances. When they finally came to a stop at a delicate-looking and carefully lit structure, they were met by the two most regal looking elves Sierra had ever seen. The male was dressed in a silvery robe and carried himself delicately, but his face seemed tired and time-worn, unlike many of the elves Sierra had met so far. The female, by comparision, was dressed in what appeared to be white, Sierra wasn't sure because the woman herself glowed like starlight and forced some of the Fellowship to squint she shimmered so bright. Her face was delicate and graceful and reminded Sierra very much of her mother, or perhaps it was the gentle way she carried herself. Eventually her light faded and everyone could see the pair more clearly.

This was Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.

"The enemy knows you have entered here." Celeborn stated. Sierra wasn't at all surprised, the enemy had been following and predicting their movements ever since Gandalf put them on this quest. Well, Sierra volunteered as did everyone who wasn't Sam or Frodo, but still. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine that are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him." Sierra bit the inside of her lip and bowed her head slightly, "I can no longer see him from afar."

"He is gone." Sierra whispered under her breath, not willing to speak aloud but still drawing the eyes of Lady Galadriel.

"Gandalf the Gray did not pass the borders of this land." The Lady half whispered, sounding almost in a trance, "He has fallen into shadow." Softly, Aragorn nodded and Celeborn looked to his Lady.

"He was taken by both shadow and flame." Legolas answered for everyone, "A Balrog of Morgoth." While Celeborn did not project abject fear, anger, or sorrow, his face carried pain, similar to first hearing any bad news involving a friend. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria." Then Sierra looked up at Legolas.

"It was not needless." She said firmly, the lord and lady and all the others looked to her expectantly. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and spoke towards Lord and Lady elf. "Our intent was to cross the mountain pass of Caradhras, but we were stopped by the white wizard Saruman. He had turned his will and his land of Isengard over to Sauron's command." This drew out almost imperceptibly subtle raised brows on the elves, "As we were crossing, Saruman attempted to bring the mountain on our heads. We needed to turn back. Our only choices then were through the Gap of Rohan or the mines of Moria. Going through Rohan would bring us too close to Isengard and…and we had no knowledge of what was in the mines before we traversed them." Sierra took a second to breathe and keep her emotions from ringing in her words. 'Gandalf must have known exactly what hid in Moria's depths,' she'd reasoned, 'and that was why he was so hesitant before.' "We became trapped in Moria, the beast guarding one of the doors had brought a rockslide down and destroyed the entrance. What happened from then on to our escape was, more than anything…inevitable."

Sierra had never spoken so politically outside of her debate lessons back at home. And surprised herself by not going beet red from the stress of speaking in front of and to so many important people. Nobody in the Fellowship bore any blame in her explanation, though Pippin bit the inside of his lip very tight, knowingly guilty of inciting the goblin attack and consequently alerting the Balrog to their presence.

"Indeed," Galadriel agreed, "needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose." Sierra and Frodo both looked up at Galadriel curiously, did she know something they did not? "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart Gimli, son of Gloin." Sierra then noticed the dwarf's downcast eyes. He had felt guilty for even suggesting taking Moria to cross the mountains. "For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands love is now mingled with grief." Sierra was surprised to hear choked back gasps and sobs from Aragorn. She had never seen him break composure except in rage and when Frodo had been stabbed by the Nazgûl blade.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Celeborn asked, "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"Your quest stands upon the edge of a knife," Galadriel added, "Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all." Everyone knew the depth of the Lady's words. Even though they had no idea, everyone in Middle-Earth from innocent children to convicted criminals relied on the success of the Fellowship and their secret mission. "Yet hope remains while company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil." Sierra agreed wholeheartedly, she felt she could sleep a week and still not feel fully recovered. "Tonight, you will sleep in peace."

The party was then led to a series of quickly assembled tent rooms, the hobbits all sharing one while the others had shared places to rest; Sierra was the only one granted a private tent for her being the lone woman. They had all been led to the baths and changed into more comfortable clothes. Some had gone to bed immediately, like Gimli, but Sierra had stayed up fishing around in her belongings when she heard the musical and mournful voices of the elves.

"A lament for Gandalf." Legolas stated, bearing a long-necked pitcher of water. Sierra bowed her head and absently rubbed the smooth material of her casual attire, a tunic like Legolas' but a rich blue that matched her travelling vest tunic and a pair of loose-fitting breeches.

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked their elf friend.

"I have not the heart to tell you." He answered sadly, "For me, the grief is still too new." Sierra knew, though, that at the barest they mentioned his valiant adventures and exploits and smiled sadly as tears appeared in her eyes again. She quietly let the tears fall and sent her own silent thoughts of respect and familial love to the fallen wizard. Her hand wrapped around cool metal and she pulled the set of keys to her palm, their faint weight granting her calm memories of home.

"Bet they don't mention his fireworks." Sam added, "Should be a verse about them." Sierra smiled to herself and nodded as Sam continued, building a clumsy and impromptu verse for Gandalf's fireworks. It was by no means elegant or as lyrical as the elves sang and he ended it on an embarrassed note.

"He would have been honored, Sam." Sierra spoke as the hobbit took a seat on his bed. Legolas stopped by Sierra's tent as he was walking to his and Boromir's tent.

"Will you be alright, miss Brander?" the elf asked, remembering how hard she took all of the day's events when they finally escaped the mines. She choked a little and then swallowed forcefully, nodding a confirmation to Legolas; the elf noticed her hand just then gripped tight around her set of keys.

"Yes." She eventually said, "It'll never stop hurting, but I will be fine…in time." Legolas nodded and bid her good night as he continued his path. It never stopped hurting when someone you love and care about dies. Sierra still ached when she remembered the deaths of her four grandparents many years ago, but she smiled too, putting the best memories she had with the faces of the dearly departed. Everyone knew it would take time to heal and move on. Sierra was determined to not let Gandalf's passing end her journey there. The Fellowship still had a very long way to go and a very important mission to complete. Sierra breathed deep and got off her seat to fasten the tent door closed and settle in for the night, her index finger threaded through the loop of her key ring and the keys themselves nested in her palm.

The mournful singing of the elves continued for a long while and in its soothing tone and lilt, Sierra was soon deep asleep.


I know it's cheesy to say, but there were quite a few true tears shed in the crafting of this chapter. Gandalf is one of my most favorite movie/story characters of all time and it always hits me hard when I remember his battle with the balrog.

Just to let you all know, next week there will be no chapter. I am going on a brief vacation with no internet access and I plan to use the time to finish crafting and editing a few more of these chapters. So remember, April 9 = no story update. Chapter 9 will be posted on April 16.