I AM SOOOOOOOO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS SOONER!
November has just bee a really busy month for me. I was helping out with my school's drama production, and then I received this massive project from my history teacher as well as a bunch of other homework. And when I didn't have anything to do, I was too exhausted to write anything decent!
So, here is chapter 23, finally. I don't own anything other than my OCs, but you all knew that.
Chapter 23: Wargs and the West-Gate
The graying light of dusk had already appeared on the horizon when the Fellowship finally halted for the night. A chill wind blew about the hilltop where they were camped, nearly extinguishing their small fire more than once. The three Elves stood watch as the others rested, leaning wearily against trees or sitting atop boulders. All of the hobbits save for Frodo had already fallen asleep, Philip snoring contentedly beside them.
It is a wonder that they can be so peaceful after all that has happened, Hope thought as she listened quietly to Gandalf, Gimli, Aragorn, and Boromir discuss what route the Fellowship would now take.
"One thing is clear," said Gandalf. "We cannot cross the mountains."
"Let us make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir suggested. "The men there are friendly to my people."
"They may have been friendly when you were last there, but I doubt they are now," Hunter interjected, shaking her head. "The Gap passes too close to Isengard."
"Hunter is right," Aragorn said. "We cannot pass through the Gap of Rohan so long as Frodo travels with us."
Gimli huffed into his pipe. "If we cannot pass over the mountains, let us go under them. Let us go through the Mines of Moria." At the name of Moria, Boromir's face darkened, and Aragorn looked uneasy. Gandalf, however, looked thoughtful, glancing at the other members of the company who were awake.
"Well," the Wizard asked, "what say you?"
Before any could answer, though, a long, low howl echoed through the woods. Aragorn sprang to his feet, hand resting upon his sword hilt. "Wargs!" he cried, his gray eyes darting around the clearing.
"Rouse the others, and build up the fire!" Gandalf called sharply. "It is our only hope against these foul beasts."
Chase shuddered as he notched an arrow upon the string of his bow. The snarls of the Wargs surrounded the clearing, forcefully bringing the memory of that fateful day back to his mind. He could still hear the shouts of his friends as they sprinted down the road, chased by a horde of Warg-riders sent to find him. Silently, he prayed that they were alive and whole; he would die before one of his friends was harmed by one of those monsters.
Quickly, he glanced over at Fern. The young elleth was shaking as she readied her bow, her green eyes wide with fear. Chase shook his head. She never should have come on this quest. Fern was no warrior; she was not meant to fight in these battles to come.
Without warning, wild howls broke loose all around their camp. Monstrous grey shapes leapt over the surrounding boulders, snarling ferociously as they charged at the Fellowship. The twang of bowstrings sang out into the night as Legolas and Chase shot down Wargs with unmatchable precision. The younger ellon could see that Fern had retreated to where the hobbits stood in a circle, her bow standing out among their short swords. Philip and Hope stood back-to-back, hewing at the oncoming Wargs with their blades. Gimli's loud war cry could be heard as he ran at the terrible beasts, Hunter and her stout blade quickly following. Aragorn and Boromir's swords flashed in the firelight as they swung at the Wargs. And in the very center of the camp, Gandalf stood, his sword and staff raised high above his head as he fought with growing fervor.
As he reached yet again for his quiver, Chase could feel his supply of arrows thinning. Swiftly, he unsheathed his sword, and from the corner of his eye, he could see that Legolas had also drawn his blades. The noise of battle crashed around them, and Chase quickly lost track of his companions. All his surroundings seemed to blur together in some sort of violent mass, his instinct driving him instead of conscious thought.
Suddenly, Gandalf's voice thundered out from the din, strong and powerful like the raging storm. A brilliant white radiance shot from his carven staff like lightning, igniting the tall pine before him on fire. The flame leapt from treetop to treetop, incinerating all that it touched. The Wargs fled in the light of the fire, yowling and snarling angrily as they ran.
Chase blinked several times as the light subsided, reducing to the merrily crackling campfire that had been there before. Only then did he finally see what had become of his companions. Fern and the hobbits were all unharmed; all of them still gaping at Gandalf's unbridled display of power. Legolas too had come out of the battle unscathed and was assisting Aragorn in the tending of a few large scratches on his side. Boromir and Philip both had received a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing too serious, and the two of them had joined Gimli and Hunter in their examination of the Warg corpses that lay on the hilltop. Hope sat atop one of the boulders as she bandaged her shoulder.
"Here, let me help," Chase said, walking over to sit by her.
Hope grinned gratefully as he helped tie the black cloth bandage around her shoulder. "Thank you."
Chase nodded in acknowledgement, gazing at the numerous Warg corpses scattered around the blackened hilltop. "I hate Wargs," he grumbled, shaking his head.
Hope chuckled softly. "I can fully agree with you on that sentiment," she replied wearily. She then turned her attention to Gandalf, who was beginning to clear the camp.
"We must continue on, before the Wargs return," he stated, glancing around at the Fellowship.
"But what road shall we take?" Aragorn questioned.
Gandalf paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Let the Ringbearer decide," he finally said, and as soon as the Wizard had spoken, all eyes had turned to Frodo.
The hobbit's eyes darted from one member of the Fellowship to the next, until at last he said, "We shall go through the Mines."
~o*o*o*o~
That morning, the Fellowship set out for the West-Gate of Moria. Gimli had begun to walk at the front of the company with Gandalf, so excited was he to visit the realm of his cousin, Balin. Fern, meanwhile, had fallen to the back of the group, beckoning the other Elenmír to her.
"Do not dare mention anything about what happens in Moria," she hissed once Hope, Chase, Philip, and Hunter had come over. "Absolutely nothing."
"Of course, Fern," Philip said. "Did you honestly think we would go on and tell them about the-?"
"Shhh!" Fern glared at him. "I want you to say nothing at all, not even something so small as the password."
Chase cocked an eyebrow. "Really, Fern? Something so trivial as that?"
"Yes!"
"Philip? Fern? Hope?" Boromir's voice called to them from a ways ahead. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, we're fine!" Philip shouted back before turning to the others. "Come, we should go before they start to worry."
The Elenmír rejoined with the rest of the Fellowship as they waited at the base of two magnificent old holly trees. The trees were alike in all aspects, from the aged bark to the lush dark green leaves.
"What are these trees here for, Gandalf?" Hunter questioned.
"They were planted to repel evil from these lands as a symbol of the two trees of Valinor," the Wizard answered. "Celebrimbor of Hollin planted them, while the friendship of the Elves and the Dwarwes still thrived."
"It was not the fault of the Elves that the relationship failed," Legolas said curtly.
Gimli huffed. "I heard it was not the fault of the Dwarves."
Hope rolled her eyes, and Aragorn rubbed his temples tiredly. Gandalf, sensing that another argument between the two was brewing, shook his. "Come now, we shall have much ground to cover once we enter the Mines, and I believe that I am correct in my suspicion that some of our party would not like to spend more time in Moria than necessary." Indeed, even as Gandalf spoke, Legolas's face clouded over, and Chase squeezed his eyes shut.
The Fellowship pressed on, soon walking along a smooth cliff. Night had fallen, a mass of dark clouds blocking out the silvery light of the stars and the moon. A still pool of murky water stretched out before the cliff, gnarled, twisted trees surrounding the lake.
Gimli was rambling to the others about Moria, an eager, excited grin upon his fight. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," he said. "You would not be able to find them if you did not know where to look."
"That would account for why, more often than not, their owners forgot where they were," Legolas mutter dryly, eliciting a cold glare from the offended Dwarf.
Gandalf suddenly paused in front of a section of gray rock, gently feeling the stone with his hand and his staff. "Ah," he murmured. "They are here." As he spoke, the cloud covering the moon rolled away, allowing the pale light to spill down to the cliff. Slowly, a door materialized in the stone, a large arch outlined in silver with the branches of two trees spiraling around the sides and elegantly written Elvish script at the top.
A small smile of satisfaction appeared on Gandalf's face. "It is as I thought," he said. "Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."
"What does it say?" Philip asked, staring curiously up at the Elvish script.
"'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria,'" Gandalf read. "'Speak friend, and enter.'"
"And what does that mean?" Merry questioned.
"Well, it's quite simple," Gandalf answered. "If you are a friend, speak the password and enter." He glanced over at Chase, who was pointedly looking away from the doors and looking as if he was trying his hardest not to speak. Gandalf ignored the ellon's strange behavior for now, promising to ponder it further later. Closing his eyes in concentration, the Wizard pressed his palm against the doors, chanting in Sindarin, to no avail. Again he tried, but still, nothing happened.
The Fellowship eventually grew weary of watching Gandalf attempt to open the doors and began resting along the cliff, all either smoking, whispering, or just generally being bored. Hunter stood beside Sam, the young hobbit lovingly stroking Bill the pony's nose. She was faintly reminded of her and Windstorm as she watched Bill snuffling Sam's face, snorting softly.
Aragorn came over to the pair of them, gently removing Bill's bridle and the supplies piled upon his back. "The Mines are no place for a pony," he murmured. "Even one so brave as Bill."
"Bye-bye Bill," Sam whispered, lightly kissing Bill's nose.
Hunter smiled softly at the stocky pony, petting his velvety nose for the final time. "Farewell, Bill." Aragorn then gently began urging Bill down the path, and soon the bay pony was trotting back the way they had come.
Philip, meanwhile, was sitting beside Merry and Pippin on the water's edge, gazing uninterestedly at the still lake. Nothing had happened for the past hour or so, and the trio was nearly bored out of the skulls. Merry was absentmindedly bouncing a smooth pebble in his palm, something which caught both Philip and Pippin's interests. Experimentally, Pippin grabbed a small rock from the ground and lobbed it into the water. Philip quickly followed suit, trying his hardest to make his stone skip across the lake and failing miserably. Merry soon joined, and the three continued tossing pebbles into the lake until Aragorn caught Pippin's hand in mid-throw.
"Do not disturb the water," he hissed, glaring at them. Grumbling slightly, Philip dropped the stone he was about to throw, boredom sinking into his mind once more.
More time passed, the only noise being Gandalf's incomprehensible murmurings in numerous languages in increasingly desperate attempts to open the doors. Eventually, the Wizard sat down upon a boulder, hurling his staff aside in frustration. "Oh, it's no use," he muttered, staring angrily at the still firmly shut doors.
Frodo, who had been staring at the Elvish script for quite some time, suddenly stood, whirling around to face Gandalf. "It's a riddle! Gandalf, what's the Elvish word for friend?"
"Mellon," Gandalf answered tiredly. And then, with a deep rumbling, the doors opened. Immediately, the Fellowship sprang to their feet, gathering their supplies and preparing to enter the Mines.
The darkness seemed to press in on them as they strode forward into Moria. Dust swirled in the air as they walked, a musty smell permeating the air. Gimli, however, was not bothered by any of this. "Soon, my friends, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves," he said. "This is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!"
Philip was only half-listening to Gimli, too busy trying to peer through the darkness to see his surroundings. When his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he nearly yelped in disgust. Rotted corpses lay scattered on the ground and thrown against the walls, black arrows piercing the bodies of the fallen dwarves. Chase swore in Sindarin at the sight, and Hope cringed in horror. Hunter had unconsciously grabbed Philip's shoulder, and was now gripping it so tightly that Philip wouldn't be surprised if he lost all feeling in his arm soon. Legolas, seemingly unfazed, strode to one of the corpses and yanked out an arrow. He examined it quickly before hurling it aside like a poisonous snake.
"Goblins!"
Several things happened at that moment. Gimli sank to his knees, moaning in grief. Aragorn, Boromir, Hope, and Philip unsheathed their swords, and Chase, Fern, and Legolas notched arrows on their bows. And one green tentacle, having gone unnoticed by the company, coiled itself around Frodo's ankle and wrenched him out of the Mines.
"SAM!" Frodo cried as the tentacle dragged him towards the water. Without hesitation, Sam leapt forward with a shout, his short sword raised high. Suddenly, a multitude of tentacles sprang from the water, lashing out at the Fellowship. Frodo was hauled into the air, and Sam was thrown back as one tentacle struck him across the front. Aragorn, Boromir, Philip, and Hope charged into the water, slashing at the swinging green limbs, while Chase, Legolas, and Fern fired arrows at what seemed to be the head of the creature.
Finally, with a great cry, Aragorn cleaved through the tentacle holding Frodo. Boromir lunged forward to catch him, dodging the thrashing limbs of the beast.
"Into the Mines!" Gandalf bellowed, beckoning them with his staff. The rest of the Fellowship obeyed without hesitation, charging out of the water and through the open gate. Legolas and Chase paused at the entrance, turning back to the creature and firing one last arrow.
"LEGOLAS! CHASE!" Boromir roared. "RUN!"
The fourteen members of the Fellowship sprinted deep into the Mines, not daring to look back. A great thundering noise was heard, followed by the sound of crushing rock. The company whirled around to see the entrance completely destroyed, nothing left of the West-Gate other than a pile of massive boulders. A sudden light flared from Gandalf's staff, illuminating the Wizard's grim face.
"We have now but one choice," he said. "We must face the long, dark of Moria. Be one your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the worlds."
Well, I hope you enjoyed it. The story hopefully should begin picking up speed as me continue along, and I can't wait for what comes next!
Please review!