They made it to the Hall of Durin that day, Gandalf showing them the splendor of dwarven ingenuity at its height with more light from his staff. Awe held them all in thrall as they walked through the halls. Tall pillars, taller than any they'd seen to this point, and just as intricately carved, and hundreds of them lined the halls. Even Gimli was left in silence at the sight, as he walked just a step behind Gandalf, marveling at the work of his fathers.
Suddenly Gimli let out a cry of disbelief and dashed ahead, heedless of his own safety and ignoring Gandalf's cry. Gimli's cry of despair could be heard from the room that he entered and quickly everyone followed him. A large room with a window to the outside, showing that it was daytime in the outside world, was revealed to them. A room with books scattered over the floors and shelves that had been torn to pieces. In the center, a large sarcophagus dominated the central dais, and the decaying bodies of several dwarves were scattered about, obviously having died defending the tomb.
"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gandalf read the script engraved on the lid. "So he has died then." He sighed.
Gimli cried for his fallen cousin as Gandalf read from a book that had miraculously survived whatever attack had happened. His grim voice brought to life the last moments of the lives of the dwarves who had been trapped within this room.
"We cannot get out…" Gandalf finished, just as a loud crash filled the room.
Pippin had touched one of the dwarven bodies as it perched on the edge of what might have been a well. But having done so, set the body in motion and hurtling down the shaft, echoing as it hit the sides. Silence reigned in the room, as everyone held their breath, hoping against hope that the sound would go unnoticed. Moments passed and when nothing happened, Gandalf shut the book with a thud and snapped at the youngest hobbit.
"Fool of a Took, throw yourself in next time." But as Gandalf uttered these words, a distant drumming could be heard.
"Shit!" Natasha cursed, throwing up every bit of defense she could around their small stronghold, feeling Gandalf do the same.
Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir barricaded the door with anything they could find. Everyone stood ready for a moment and then the battle was upon them. Four bows sang as arrows flew in volleys at the enemy, each hitting a mark, Natasha, Legolas, Aragorn and Boromir kept the goblins from the door. There was a moment of silence and then the door crashed inward, thrown open by a cave troll, his club swinging this way and that, knocking goblins and stone out of its way as it searched for its next victim. Goblins swarmed in and the fighting began in earnest.
If you asked later on just what had happened in those next minutes of any of the Fellowship, none of them could have told you precisely. All remembered the troll dying and the goblin forces being repelled, all remembered the brief moment when Frodo was believed dead, only for it to be revealed that a mithril shirt of mail had saved his life. And all remembered Gandalf ushering them out of the room as quickly as they could to get out of the Halls before they were all killed.
It was the briefest of moments, but as Natasha passed him, Gandalf grabbed her and quickly removed his satchel, placing it over her head.
Keep it safe. He charged her in her mind.
Confusion filled her mind, and a strange look she had never seen crossed his face, before he pushed her after the others. And then, everyone was focused on running. Thousands of footsteps could be heard behind them and above them, as goblins swarmed the Hall, and down the pillars. There was soon no hope of escape as they were quickly surrounded. Natasha readied herself for a quick release of her Power, but the need was removed when a loud roar echoed through the Hall and through the corridors. Natasha could feel the fear course through her, and along her connection with Gandalf, but also she felt resignation from her mentor. The goblins scattered in every direction, as a red glow filled the corridor behind them, and the heat as if from a thousand fires hit them.
"What devilry is this?" Boromir asked.
"An ancient evil from the Old World. A Balrog of Morgoth." Gandalf gritted out. "Run!" he ordered and led the way. "To the Bridge of Khazad-dum!"
Again they were running. Natasha could feel the evil radiating off of the creature, it bombarding her defenses trying to freeze her in terror. Gandalf stayed at the rear, making sure no one fell behind. The Bridge was soon in sight and all except Gandalf were across when the Balrog caught up to them.
"Lead them on Aragorn!" Gandalf called, standing his ground, sword and staff raised to take on the Balrog.
"Gandalf, no!" Natasha cried, trying to run back but pulled back by Legolas, who threw her over his shoulder when she kept fighting and carried her to safety. In horror, the Fellowship watched as Gandalf fought the Balrog, in the end casting it down only to be taken down with it. His last words echoed in their ears "RUN, you fools!" as they ran for their lives, through the last of the halls and out of the mountains.
They stopped for a brief moment to catch their breaths. Merry and Pippin collapsed onto each other in their grief, Sam cried alone. Boromir and Gimli each sent a silent prayer to the Valar for their lost comrade. Legolas held Natasha as she fought to get back inside to help her mentor, how she was not sure, but it was all she could think. Aragorn joined the struggle, elvish flying from his lips in his attempts to calm her. And then, her connection with her mentor snapped, and she screamed in agony, falling limply into Legolas and Aragorn's arms. All the Fellowship cringed at her scream, though only Aragorn and Legolas understood fully what she was going through. Magical bonds were not easily broken, except by death, and then very painfully, causing great hurt to the surviving member (s) of the bond.
Boromir came close to them, concern on his face. Aragorn straightened, and looked to the south. "We make for the forest of Lothlorien." He pointed to the forest in the distance.
"Give them a moment to mourn." Boromir cried, his eyes still on Natasha, and seeing the blood running out of her ear, gasped. "She needs a healer!"
"She will be better cared for in Lothlorien." Aragorn argued. "By nightfall, the hills will be swarming with goblins!"
Natasha opened her eyes and with great difficulty stood up, swaying slightly against Legolas as dizziness swamped her mind.
"Aragorn is right, we have to get moving." She said slowly, eyes searching for Frodo.
"Frodo, come back. We need to get to safety." She called softly.
Frodo turned, tears running down his face, but he nodded and in a moment, Sam was at his side, his arm around his master, crying silently with him as they rejoined the group. Boromir held Natasha's elbow for a moment, searching her face.
"I am alright, Boromir. Let us get moving." She said tightly, pain still echoing through her head at the sudden loss of her mentor. She picked up her pace and jogged to catch up to Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and the hobbits but a step behind her. Boromir hesitated only a moment before he too was running.
They reached the border of Lothlorien just before nightfall, and slowed down to a walk. The dizziness in Natasha's head had cleared but the pain still remained. It was a pain that stabbed sharply, making her unable to think. But then, as Legolas touched the small of her back, the pain dulled to just throbbing, and when Aragorn caught up to them, she was able to think once more, if only through the pain. Interesting, she thought. I wonder why that is. Unfortunately, she was kept from her musing when Aragorn and Legolas both walked ahead of her and the pain and unclear thinking returned.
"Stay close young hobbits." Gimli was saying. "They say a powerful witch rules this forest."
The hobbits all crowded closer to Gimli and Aragorn, fearfully looking around them. "Few have met her without being brought under her spell. Luckily I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."
Natasha watched as Gimli's face came very close to meeting the point of an arrow, and shifted her gaze to the arrow's origin. An elf of silvery hair and grey garb stood before Gimli, bow pulled ready to shoot. The sound of bows being drawn came all around them, and they were surrounded with arrows pointing at them. A single elf walked around the archers, tall and proud.
"Haldir." She breathed in relief. The Marchwarden nodded his head to her in greeting, and turned his attention to Aragorn.
"We need a safe haven for the night." Aragorn asked.
"And a healer for Natasha." Added Boromir, earning himself a stern look from Aragorn for speaking out of turn.
Haldir gave her a once over glance, and led them to his talan. As they rested among the leaves, the hobbits in the very center as they hated being so high from the ground, Aragorn argued quietly with Haldir to allow them to pass through the safety of Lothlorien. Natasha sat with Frodo, his head rested on her chest, as he looked at each of his companions.
"They all despise me." He said quietly. "For causing Gandalf to fall."
"Now you listen to me." Natasha said sternly though fighting to keep her thinking straight and the pain off her own face, lifting Frodo's face to look at her. "Gandalf chose the path that he thought best. I think he knew all along that he would have to face something like that in Moria and that was why he was reluctant to go in the first place. But make no mistake, no one blames you for that."
Frodo's eyes filled with tears, and he wept silently. Sam curled himself around Frodo, comforting his master and himself, and soon Merry and Pippin soon joined. Natasha rose, and joined Legolas in watching the forest.
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, holding her hand. Again the pain dulled and her mind cleared of the haze.
"It is, but will they let us through?" she asked, squeezing the hand holding hers and gesturing to Haldir who now stood alone, his eyes on some distant point further into the Woods.
"No, he will not." Aragorn sighed in frustration as he came to them. "He will not let us bring such great evil into the Golden Wood. He has however sent for a healer."
"Then what will we do?" Natasha asked, her other hand taking Aragorn's. "And you know as well as I do, that there is little that a healer can do in this case."
"Why, then, does the Gondorian believe you need a healer, Lady Natasha?" asked Haldir, who had approached them unnoticed.
"My bond with my mentor Gandalf was broken when he died in Moria." She said quietly.
Haldir's eyes widened and excusing himself, bowed to her, and went to speak with the healer.
"We shall simply have to go around, though it take more time to travel the route." Aragorn answered resigned.
The healer approached them, and bowed to Natasha. "I am told that you have recently had a bond broken. While you are correct that I cannot do anything to heal it, only time can do that, I can give you something for the pain. Drink this. It should also make it easier to think." He said kindly, offering her a dark tea.
She drank in silence, winced slightly at the bitter taste, but handed the cup back to the healer with gratitude. The tea was quick and her pain dulled to no more than an ache, and she could think clearly, even though Legolas and Aragorn had given her privacy to speak with the healer, and stood on the other side of the talan. Haldir once again returned to them, this time his face resigned, and his voice reluctant.
"The Lady bids you welcome. I am to bring you before her." He bowed, and led them from the talan, and into the Golden Wood.
The Red Sorcerer was becoming impatient. His minions had failed to capture his prize in Moria, so too had they failed to catch up to them once they were out of the mountain. Now she had disappeared under the veil of Lothlorien. This was getting intolerable. He would have to capture her as soon as she left. But at least the Grey One was no longer a threat, he smiled maliciously. His prize would be weakened from having to deal with the pain of a broken bond, more malleable to his will once he took that pain away. She would be so grateful to him for removing it, she would be like clay in his hands. Delicious warmth filled his belly, and he curled around it, treasuring it, all the while a grin on his face.