"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out." —Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Chapter 10
They fought valiantly against the onslaught of orcs and other dark foes. Legolas, while taking down the Cave troll found himself marvelling from his new vantage point atop it, at the magnificent orange and black beast that leapt onto the armed creatures, somehow avoiding injury while she got to their throats and ripped them open. Gruesome though the sight was, it was somehow no more gory than any fight he had been in, for all of war is bloody.
They managed to defeat the first attack, but just as they began to turn to the Eastern door to flee, into the chamber entered a great orc chieftain, clad in black mail. Legolas saw as Frodo was thrown against the opposite wall by the thrown spear of the orc and despaired that the hobbit must be killed by such a blow. Aragorn cut down the orc and ran to Frodo's side, picking him up to carry him as they fled to the exit.
Gimli stood by the tomb, his head bowed and Legolas found himself tugging at the dwarf to follow. Frodo, somehow alive, wriggled from Aragorn's grasp to the shock of the company.
They ran down the passage that was through the Eastern door, Gandalf halting behind them. He bade them to go on and so they ran in the dark, winding ever downwards. After some way they paused, listening for sounds above.
Legolas could hear Gandalf muttering words of spells, and felt the walls around them tremble, drums beating far above. There was a white flash of light up the passage, and Gandalf tumbled down to them. "I have met my match and nearly been destroyed" he told them, filling them with horror at the idea of any foe who could challenge the wizard.
Further they ran down the passage, now all ten together; running down many steps and trying not to fall in the darkness.
When near an hour had passed, the passage began to grow hot. Gandalf guessed that they were nearing the level of the eastern gate.
They paused again momentarily, as Gandalf was exhausted. He told how he had put a shutting spell on the door they had fled through, but had felt something the other side which cast a terrible counter spell. The door had burst into pieced, the ceiling blasted and the passage behind them blocked. Legolas knew not whether to cheer for their escape of pursuit, or to despair for the great power that had challenged Gandalf and caused him such exhaustion.
They once again ran on until they reached an archway, through which they could feel heat and see a warm glowing light. Gandalf peaked out and told them they had reached another cavernous hall, this one near the eastern gates. In it had been lit a fire, likely to prevent their flight; but by some chance they had avoided it by their escape down the passage, coming out on the other side.
The fellowship ran out into the hall, and looking back, saw that the orcs and Goblins that pursued them were trapped on the other side of the fire.
They ran until they reached an open chasm in the floor, where a narrow stone bridge was their only way across.
Gimli went first, pippin and merry following behind him. Arrows were shot at them by the orcs behind the fire, the drum beats getting louder.
Legolas readied an arrow, but just as he pulled back the bowstring he saw something which made his heart freeze and his fingers let go of the arrow.
An enormous firey shape was coming through the flames, larger than any creature he had before seen and carrying a flaming sword and whip. His terror and the dark tales he had heard as an elfling told him what it must be.
"Ah ah!" he cried, the words failing him as he tried to warn his companions, "A Balrog! A Balrog is come!"
The others whipped around to see what he spoke of. "Durin's bane!" shouted Gimli, despair shaking his voice at the sight.
Gandalf, looking shaken, pushed those left to run the bridge towards it and they ran across. Boromir blew his great horn in challenge, the Balrog faltering for a moment at the echoing sound, but soon continued towards them. Gandalf shouted for them to flee, the two men standing stubbornly beside him while others ran to the exit and halted, looking back in fear.
Gandalf stood resolutely on the bridge and with a courage beyond what any of the rest could hope for, challenged the flaming terror, "You cannot pass!"
The Balrog stepped forward and the flaming sword clashed against Gandalf's. It fell a step back.
"You cannot pass" the wizard repeated as the Balrog stepped forward once more, cracking it's whip.
Gandalf raised his staff and struck the bridge with it, the stone cracking under his feet and lurching the Balrog into the abyss below.
Before he could turn away, the flaming whip lashed upwards and wrapped itself around Gandalf's knees, pulling him forward into the depths. "Fly, you fools!" they heard him cry as he fell.
Aragorn and Boromir, their faces twisted in pain and grief, ran to the waiting group and urged them to heed Gandalf's last words. So they ran, through the last hall and finally, out of the open gates, free, finally, of Moria.
Behind the door posts, orcs were waiting, but Aragorn cut down the leader, his fury frightening the rest into flight.
They kept running, down into the Dimril Dale, the Moria gates open, drums sounding behind them.
Once they had reached the foot of the mountain, bathed in a warm sun that did not touch their hearts, they fell in grief.
Amber was filled with a rage that she could not temper. She did not know how to process the loss, so soon after her brother had died, only a few months before. The events of his death, also slain when defending against foes was too similar for her to bear and she wept with anger upon the earth beneath her, furious that another, who she had just begun to grow closer to, had been taken in such a way.
Aragorn did not let them cry overlong, fearing pursuit. He got them up, taking the lead as they were now leaderless.
Gimli and Frodo looked into the Mirrormere at the foot of the mountain but Amber, full of her anger dared not, for fear of what she might see.
The running began again. Amber's body tired, the grief having spent more of the precious little energy she had had left since the battle, but they could not stop, knowing that come nightfall, the orcs would be hot on their trail.
They followed the path of the Silverlode, a stream running through the land into the woods ahead. Legolas noticed that Frodo and Sam were lagging behind due to injuries sustained in their battle so Aragorn and Boromir picked them up and carried them as they ran.
Legolas alone, seemed eager to enter the woodland. Amber was glad for the shelter of the trees but cared for little else as her energy was quickly spent.
Once the pace began to finally slow, they stopped to take a short rest by the stream. Aragorn tended to the hobbits' wounds, and in doing so revealed that Frodo was wearing Mithril shirt under his clothes from Bilbo, which had been his protection against the spear in the room with the tomb. The larger part of the company wondered at the Mithril shirt, seemingly a priceless artifact, but Amber cared little for such things. Amber bathed her face in the stream, allowing the cool water to refresh her. A small fire was made on which they cooked a meal, the first hot food they had had in many days.
Once they had eaten, they walked again for a further few hours, the evening deepening. Amber thought that she could smell a strange scent behind them, one which she had first smelt inside of Moria, though it was not of orcs. She looked back, trying to spy where it could be coming from.
"Lothlorien, Lothlorien!" cried Legolas, startling Amber out of her thoughts so that she looked ahead to where he pointed, "We have come to the eaves of the golden wood!" rang his clear voice, "Alas, that it is winter".
She could see grey trees with leaves hinting at gold, despite the winter chill having plundered most woods of their canopies. Aragorn told them that the Lorien elves now dwelt deep in the wood. She wondered at the possibility of meeting more elves. Would they be like her mother? Or more grave and solemn like those she had met in Rivendell? They could certainly not be like Legolas, for she doubted any sentient being she could ever meet would be as kind and intriguing as he.
Gimli and Boromir seemed both reluctant to enter Lorien, dispute Aragorn reassuring them that they had nothing to fear from the elves or their lady. Amber, indeed, had heard tell of a great elven sorcerous who lived in those woods, but she did not allow a fairy tale to strike fear in her heart, especially with the wholesome feeling of the place.
Soon a prettily bubbling stream crossed the path before them. "Here is Nimrodel" Legolas told them, explaining that many elven tales were told of this stream. He bathed his feet in the water, explaining that it was said to be healing. Amber followed him, slipping out of her leather boots and stepping into the water, a moan of pleasure escaping her throat at the feel of the cool water, seeming to remove her of her weariness. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Legolas watched her with an unreadable expression on his face.
Before she had time to question him, the rest of the fellowship began to wade across, carrying their packs above them so as not get water inside.
Once on the other side of the healing stream, they laid down their burdens and sat down to rest. Legolas spoke, telling them tales of the elves of Lorien, who seemed a strange and ancient people to the Beorning woman.
"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?" Legolas asked, after a short pause in which the bubbling stream sang to them. He began to sing along with it, his song of the elf maiden, Nimrodel, who was the stream's namesake. Amber found herself utterly captured by his voice, clear and beautiful, full of emotion as he sang. After a while she began to feel a gnawing in her belly, and realised with some distress that she felt envious of the beautiful elven maiden of whom he sang, despite her having lived long ago. Not for the first time since she had met him, she found herself wishing that she was as fair as the elves, rather than the softer, more uncommon features of her father's race. She felt fortunate that she had an elven mother, for some of her prettiness she had inherited from her, though she wished it had been more.
Once Legolas stopped singing, the tale having become sad; he told them of how the Lorien elves dwelt in the trees, rather than in houses on the ground. Aragorn confirmed this, reminding Amber of the time he had visited her after spending some time in 'the golden wood' as he had called it. He had not spoken much, but enough that Amber now knew that this was the place. That had been a time that he had visited his betrothed, of whom he rarely spoke in company, seeming to treasure her as his heart's secret. Amber smiled at him, remembering the times in Rivendell where she had observed them together, their love clear to anyone who looked upon them.