Moria was dark. Darker than anywhere Natasha had ever been. When the Watcher in the Water had pulled the Doors of Durin down behind them, and all had become dark with not a speck of light, Natasha had a hard time calming down. Gandalf had been quick to light a stone on his staff, but still it was not enough. The dark of Moria seemed to swallow up any bit of light that was emitted, making the circle cast by the glow of Gandalf's staff all the smaller, as she tried to follow closely behind her mentor, while not tripping over her own feet in her haste to keep up. She wasn't afraid of the dark per se. But this level of darkness seemed to be trying to engulf her in it, and block out all her senses. Perhaps too, it was the quiet of Moria. There was nothing to hear. Gandalf's hand on her shoulder startled her, but she immediately calmed as he pulsed calmness and tranquility into her mind, his eyes darting to Boromir, who had thankfully not noticed her lapse, he too busy calming the hobbits. Aragorn and Legolas were then by her side an instant later, their closeness bringing her the final vestiges of calm that she needed, and she relaxed, allowing her mind to expand in all directions trying to find any threat, aside from the Watcher now kept outside by a ton of stone.
"Well there is nothing more for it. We will just have to face the long dark of Moria." Gandalf said. "Be on your guard, there's more than merely orcs hiding in the deep places of the earth."
Single file they made their way into the Mines. Gimli's bragging from before had disappeared in the face of seeing the slain bodies of so many of his kinsmen. Natasha, herself, had almost thrown up seeing so many dead bodies in such decomposition. Cadavers in med school had nothing on these bodies, filled with varying degrees of holes from being gnawed on by who knows what, and filled with arrows, some still sitting exactly as they had sat when they were killed. Slowly the hobbits plucked up their courage once more and began asking questions about the Mines. Why were the dwarves here? Why would they have wanted to come back to such a horrible place? Gandalf had answered all their questions patiently, and soon even Boromir was asking questions. They marveled as they went, at the workmanship that must have gone into the walls of Moria, for there were designs so intricate carved into pillars that could have easily been taller than the tallest of trees, that must have taken years to complete. There were delicate fountains that had long since stopped running, filled up with such filth as can be carried through pipes and aqueducts. And the stairs. Goodness there were stairs. Everywhere you turned there were stairs.
Hours passed and on they walked, they passed corridors on the left and on the right, but Gandalf led the way, and for the most part took no turns, until finally he stopped and pointed with his staff.
"Do you see?" he asked. "Ahead there is a small glow?"
The hobbits crowded closer to him, determined to see what he was pointing out, rejoicing when they could.
"We're out!" they cried, only to be hushed by the wizard.
"Do be quiet! Don't be foolish. We are a long ways off yet before we see the other side of these mountains. You must be very careful about the level of your voice here for sound carries quite well in the corridors. The glow you see, is from glow crystals. They are crystals that absorb even the smallest amount of light and amplify it so that they glow continuously. They were used by the dwarves to illuminate much of Moria, though many seem to have gone missing or their mirrors were destroyed when the dwarves fled."
Gandalf spoke as he led them to the source of the light and they all gazed in awe at two magnificent giant crystals hanging from the ceiling. They were very nearly the size of two large horses standing on top of each other, with spires sprouting every which way. And in the cold bluish light that they cast, engraved on a stone the size of small house, a mural of such craftsmanship that it took ones breath away.
"Behind this mural, lies one of the many libraries of Moria." Gandalf explained. "And due to the ingenuity of Durin's Folk, it is largely intact. Or at least it was the last time I was here."
"But how has it remained intact for so long?" Frodo asked. "Would not the orcs and goblins that Gimli spoke about have broken in by now."
"Well you see, this mural is made to look like just an ordinary wall. The orcs probably thought that the wall was simply decoration and was illuminated as such. They probably left it and ignored this part of the Halls so as not to bring any light within reach of the crystals. And, as you shall see, the dwarves made other safeguards besides the concealing qualities."
So saying, Gandalf reached through the solid stone, earning gasps of amazement from everyone, and pulled on something. And the wall separated and opened to reveal a room hidden behind it. Gandalf quickly ushered them in, and closed the door behind them.
"An illusion." Natasha explained when Gandalf simply leaned back against the door with a smug grin on his face. "An illusion to hide the lever to the door."
"Excellent. And as you can tell this room was very well and often used and so certain luxuries were afforded it in its construction." Gandalf pointed to the ceiling with his staff. Instead of the usual stone that had been over their heads for these many long hours, there was what appeared to be a large clear crystal, faceted so as to catch the light of the stars and moon, and sun during the day. The room was much brighter than the corridors, and all the Fellowship was glad to have a respite from the dark.
"We will set up camp here. A bit of refreshment and then a full night's rest for everyone." Gandalf said, seating himself in a nearby chair.
The library turned out to be much more than a simple library. It had been designed to be a potential last line of defense should the need ever arise, and so everything was incorporated into the library, besides the shelves. There were store rooms for food, with containers sealed with spells and craftsmanship, that were still good, as the hobbits soon found out. Dinner was especially good that night, with more variety than the fare they had endured over the past weeks. But on top of all this, the sound of running water caught Legolas' sharp ears and it was found that there was fresh water from outside running into a well, but also feeding a set of baths off the main hall of the library. At this announcement even Gandalf was surprised but pleasantly so, and so they all took turns bathing.
Clean and well fed, the Fellowship settled down for the night. They were well protected by the hidden doors and Natasha could not sense anything coming near, and yet, as she lay in her bedroll, she found she could not sleep. Quietly as she could, she crept away to the bookshelves, the draw of the books too overwhelming to ignore. She ran her fingers lightly over the volumes as she passed, not sure which she should take, and letting instinct guide her. She yearned to stay here and to read each volume, to learn the secrets of each and she promised herself that if she lived through this she would return if for nothing else than to retrieve all these books and bring them to somewhere safer where she could be at her leisure in reading them. She was drawn to a particular volume, nondescript but her fingers tingled when she touched it, and so she pulled it down gently from its resting place, and wiped the dust off.
The writing was, surprisingly, legible and not decayed over time, and even more surprisingly was in Elvish. Perhaps everything within the library was spelled to remain intact, she mused as she gently, reverently turned pages in the ancient tome. This book was about dragons, and she almost put it back, for she had heard of all the evil that dragons had done in the world, yet something stayed her hand, and she read on. It told of the histories of the dragons, of a time when dragons, dwarves, humans and elves all worked together to fight the darkness. But something had happened, Natasha wondered, to make people believe that dragons were evil.
"I see you are unable to sleep as well." Gandalf's voice cut through her thoughts as he took a seat next to her. Perusing the page she was on, he smiled sadly. "Ah the tale of the dragons. They were not always evil. They were much like men in the beginning. Curious of the world, and desirous of its wonders. They fought with the Valar during the battles in the First Age, while the elves were still in Valinor after the Awakening. Many returned there after, and were never seen in Middle Earth again. But many also stayed to help in the fight so that when the elves decided to return there would be something worthwhile to return to."
"So what went wrong?" Natasha asked quietly, her fingers tracing the image of two dragons fighting mid-air, claws slashing at each other and blood running from wounds already inflicted.
"During the early part of the Second Age, some dragons, like some humans after them, began to yearn for more than just protecting the world. They wanted to have dominion over it themselves, to have all the wonders it held to themselves. To have power over others. And so, some gave into temptation and answered the call of Morgoth, his promises of riches and power were too much for these dragons. When those that were left found out, they trailed them and laid siege on their new homes, but it was not to last. A few good dragons survived the siege and retreated to their havens, only to move again when they were pursued. The dragons of Morgoth still seek out any news of the good dragons, hoping to either convert their brethren or slay them for their opposition. But there are still good dragons about, they just hide very well."
"Have you ever seen one?" Natasha watched her mentor's face in the pale light of the library.
"Once, and I spoke with him, before you ask. He and his flight were heading west, trying to reach the safety promised to them and the elves in the Undying Lands. Whether they reached it, I do not know."
"I hope they did. It would be said if all that was left was an evil vestige." Natasha sighed and closed the book, and moving to replace it on the shelf.
"Why do you not put that one in your pack, Natasha? I do not think anyone will miss it if you borrow it for awhile." Gandalf suggested, something glimmered in his eyes, though what, she could not tell. "Perhaps you will have need of it in some way in the days ahead."
She was curious but knew better than to question her mentor when he got cryptic like this, so she smiled and, hugging the book to her chest, went back to her bedroll, and hid the book away from sight in her backpack. Laying down, the last thing she saw was Gandalf sitting illuminate only by the light shining through the crystal ceiling, quietly chewing on his pipe in deep thought.