A/N: Enjoy this chapter. I'm not sure how this turned out, because my mind isn't really here at all. Anyway, leave a review and tell me.

"Arms up, Lizzie!"

Whack!

"Ouch! Stop that!"

"Orcs do not stop on command!"

Thwack!

"You boob! You're not an Orc!"

Amy collapsed with giggles as she fell off the rock she was sitting on top of, holding her sides as Sam roared with laughter next to her. The look on Boromir's face at being called a boob was absolutely priceless. He actually lowered his sword and scowled at the two laughing friends, and then rolled his eyes when Lizzie doubled over, shrieking with laugher. He scratched the back of his neck. "Insulting nicknames aside, we need to finish the practice. Lizzie, arms up." he said. Lizzie pouted and hefted the knife she was wielding. It was about the length of her forearm, covered in intricate carvings and even a small ruby set into the pommel. She had nearly fainted at the sight of it, and when Aragorn allowed her to use it as a weapon she was even more excited. But training practice was very difficult, and all of the girls were having a hard time. Sam was almost always in a surly mood when she watched the training, irked beyond sensibility that she couldn't join them. She settled for hurling insults and jibes at them.

It only took another two minutes until Lizzie was disarmed, and the dirk went spinning across the rocky ground. Amy picked it up reluctantly, holding it awkwardly in both hands. She felt Legolas's eyes on her, and she felt a prickle crawl down her spine. He had been doing that a lot lately, watching her at odd moments. When she caught him doing it, he would look away and pretend to be fascinated with the clouds or the trees or something. Amy stepped forward, trying a defensive stance. "Very good," Boromir coached. "Remember, when you have the shorter blade -"

"Get in close, I know," Amy muttered. They traded blows carefully, one on each side, and then the duel began. Amy usually preferred Aragorn, seeing as he was much gentler and understanding about sparring, but today she had Boromir. She still had a nasty bruise across her upper back from the flat of his blade. To his credit, Boromir had apologized and Amy had forgiven him. But the bruise still twinged whenever she tried to pick up something heavy. The blades screamed together, sending a dazzling array of sparks, and Amy felt the vibrations shudder up her arm. She dropped the blade, yowling as she clutched her hand, which was tingling with pins and needles. Boromir was saying something, most likely chastising her, but Aragorn overrode him.

"Boromir and Amy, we need to get going. Gandalf believes we can reach the walls of Moria by nightfall." Aragorn said. Amy, relieved, put down the knife and hastily scampered out of the way of a disgruntled Boromir. Lizzie was already sliding herself into Boromir's cloak, and Sam was using her one good arm to roll up the sleeping bags and put them on Bill, the pony. It was routine now, and Amy knew her friends were slowly getting used to it. Sam and Sam, the Hobbit, both took their positions by Bill, and Lizzie snuggled close to the thick-bodied Gondorian steward. No doubt she would apologize later for calling him a boob, with many fluttering eyelashes and parted lips. Amy trudged ahead of the group, a little off to the side, as was her custom, and tried to pull her hair into a halfway decent braid. The rain they had gotten two days ago had washed it clean of all the dirt, and it was soft and silky once more, except it was nastily tangled. She really needed a good brushing, and probably a trim. She heard Gimli stumping behind the pony, growling something at Legolas, and she felt the blonde elven prince hurry up behind her, the tips of his ears pink with anger.

"Whoa," Sam said. "Those are some pretty big walls."

They were staring at the sheer black cliffs of Moria, a gigantic rocky wall that stretched to the heavens. They had spent the better part of the day climbing and heaving themselves over sharp precipices and jagged rocks so they could get into this valley. The valley supposedly led straight to the door, but none of them could see any kind of fissure or crack in the rough walls of Moria. A murky lake, roughly the size of a football field, was in the middle of the valley. A narrow path skirted around it, but Amy couldn't help staring at the stagnant, murky water. Broken branches jutted up, and a few slimy boulders were barely breaking the surface. The water looked old, yellowed, and very disgusting. A film of bluish mold covered some areas, and several feet of soupy grass floated underneath the water. There was something - barely a ripple - in the very center, and Amy wondered idly if there were frogs here. The bottom of the pond wasn't muddy, but very hard and rather rocky, which wasn't very conducive to frogs. Before she could ponder this any further, she heard Gimli saying something.

"Dwarves create their gates invisible, so their enemies may not find them," Gimli said, sounding very proud. Gandalf, however, sounded otherwise.

"And yet, Master Dwarf, their secrets may be long forgotten if their masters have passed on." He sounded rather chafed that he couldn't find the gates. He tapped one smooth section of the wall and grunted with dissatisfaction.

"Why does this not surprise me?" Legolas asked to the heavens. "We followed a dwarf's advice and now we are stuck." Amy hid a giggle behind her hair, and Legolas shot her a furtive smile. Gimli sniffed with disdain at the comment.

Two twisted, gnarled trees were the only landscape in the rocky valley, and Gandalf hurriedly approached them. Despite it being autumn, no foliage bedecked their branches, no marvelous colors of gold and red sang to them. Gandalf stroked the rough wall, his palm hovering over certain places, and a smile twitched his beard. Slender veins of silver ran through the wall, barely there, twisting and curving in a beautifully elaborate design that formed the shape of a door. "Isildin. This wall mirrors only starlight and moonlight, I believe." As if connected to a string, all heads turned to the sky. A full, robust moon, nearly full but not quite, grinned down on them toothily. The lines on the wall grew broader and clearer, brightly shining in the dim light, forming intricate symbols and glowing talismans, shimmering runes and radiant letters. Gandalf seemed very pleased with himself. "The words are in Elvish. It reads thus: 'The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, Friend, and enter."

Merry shifted his weight and went a little closer to Sam, who put her hand on his head. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, looking from Gandalf to Gimli to Aragorn. Sam twined her fingers in his curly hair automatically, soothing him without saying anything. It had become a habit with her.

"'Tis quite simple. If you are a friend, and you know the password, you are to speak it, and it will let you in." Gandalf said, now sounding very smug. He raised his arms and bellowed at the door in a perfectly awe-inspiring voice. "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" He said, sounding very impressive. The sky grew darker, and an unseen wind whispered through the two trees. The lines glowed a little brighter, perfectly dazzling in their radiance, and then they dimmed once more.

"This is bull," Sam snapped, glaring at the doors as if they had personally wronged her. She stumped over to a rock and sat down on it angrily, jutting her chin defiantly. "We're stuck here in a dark valley, cold, wet, hungry, and bored, and now we can't get in! What kind of adventure is this?" Amy shot her a look.

"This always happens in adventures. Gandalf will think of the password. You'll see."

Three hours later, Amy had joined Sam's opinion. They were well and truly stuck. To pass the time, she and Lizzie played "Concentration", which was always difficult for Amy, who couldn't think as quickly as Lizzie could. They heard Gandalf muttering in the background, growling something in Dwarfish and then in Elvish, and at one point actually whacking the gateway with his stick. Sam was engaged with the Merry and Pippin, self-appointing herself the judge of their rock-throwing contest. Pippin glanced at Gandalf as the old wizard sat down, rubbing his temples. "Nothing's happening," Pippin noted. Gandalf rolled his eyes and bemoaned his fate.

"I once knew every spell in Elvish, Common, and Dwarfish," he complained. He pushed against the doors, and then fell down again. "This is absurd," he mumbled to himself, and began chanting once more in Elvish. Pippin, who wasn't precisely the quickest on the uptake, paused with a large rock in his hand.

"What are you going to do, then?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Gandalf peeked at him through his fingers, and Pippin saw the annoyance in Gandalf's eyes.

"You shall bang your head against those walls, Peregrin Took, until they open! And if that does not succeed, I shall continue to think of a password without the continually babbling idiots who pester me with pointless questions!" Gandalf snapped. Amy winced. Pippin, who either didn't understand Gandalf's long words or didn't really care, went back to throwing rocks.

Aragorn caught Merry's arm just before he heaved another rock into the murky water. Like Amy, he had noticed the ripples spreading out against the oily black water. "Do not disturb the water," he warned. "Something stirs." Merry looked simultaneously interested and fearful. Aragorn's hand crept towards his sword, and he exchanged a glance with Boromir, who was also readying himself. This did not go unnoticed by Sam, who turned her head quizzically as she examined the two warriors preparing themselves for battle.

Frodo, who had remained silent ever since they had arrived, suddenly looked enlightened. He turned quickly to Gandalf, his dark eyes suddenly glittering brightly. "'Tis a riddle! Just like in Bilbo's adventures!" he glanced at the inscription, and then went back to Gandalf. "Speak friend and enter! What's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon," Gandalf said. Silently, without so much as a rumble, the doors swung open slowly, and infinite blackness yawned at them. Amy unconsciously drew closer to Legolas, who looked down at his diminutive friend. Apparently she was frightened of the dark, among many other things. She took one chary step forward, and Sam shook her head, looking back at the oily water. The ripples where Merry and Pippin had thrown the rocks were not melting back into the water, but instead growing bigger. She felt the tension in the air, tasted it. The Fellowship warily stepped into the darkness, seeing the staircases that stretched in front of them. Gimli was elated, and had to restrain himself from doing a little jig. "Soon, my friends, you will enjoy the hospitality of the Dwarves of Moria, which is unrivaled by any other! They treat their guests like family, and you will taste the delicacies of Moria. Red meat dripping from the bone, foamy ale, and roaring fires!" He chuckled. "And they call this a mine. A mine!"

Gandalf breathed on a small crystal, which he inserted into his staff. As the dim light suddenly sweeps the room, Amy actually screamed. It was a shrill, keen scream that Legolas could feel as well as see. And had he not been familiar with the stench of death and corpses, he would have joined her. As it was, he felt an uncomfortable flip in his stomach. The putrid, thick stench of decaying bodies hit them hard, and Lizzie nearly fainted. She gagged, and dry-heaved, pulling herself closer to Boromir. All around them, dead dwarves, some half-mummified from their own blood, others mere skeletons, lay scattered. Their armor was rusted to dust, their shields without trim or design, and everything was peppered with arrows. Legolas snapped out a stubby black arrow and examined it. "Goblins." he spat.

Boromir sounded stricken. "This is no mine, Master Dwarf. This is a tomb." he said. Sam retched, then buried herself in Aragorn's chest, trying to block out the decaying stench. 'We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir said urgently. "'Twas a mistake to come here!" They hurried out, all of them pushing and scrambling to get out of the rotting stink.

The ripples has swelled to a wave. Before anyone could blink, a long, sinuous tentacle, slimy with age and colored a grayish-white, whipped out and lashed around Frodo's leg. The small Hobbit shrieked as he was dragged forcibly into the water, and Boromir and Aragorn plunge into the churning waves. Aragorn severs the tentacle, and they all hear a screech rip through the air. Frodo tried to scramble to safety, but more limbs shot from the water, dozens of them, all groping for bodies. The dark water boiled frothily as Frodo was once more dragged into the water. They all heard a guttural bellow, and Amy saw Sam disappearing beneath the waves. The brunette managed one choked scream before she was dragged beneath the slick water, down into the hidden depths. For the first time, they all saw the head of the horrific beast; sleek head, strong jaw, dripping teeth that were huge and blackened, six or seven wild eyes larger than dinner plates, and the mouth was gaping as it hauled Frodo above its yawning mouth. The Hobbit was in spasms of terror as he screamed and bucked, trying in vain to release the icy grip around his waist.

Later, Amy would try to recall what she had done. All she remembered was going completely, suddenly blank, and charging into the water with the dirk in her hand. The water was frigid, icy cold, and she felt the temperature drop buffet the air from her lungs. Dimly she remembered hearing the shouts and warnings of the Fellowship, and the wailing scream of Lizzie as she watched both her friends disappear beneath the water. Amy dived deep, opening her eyes underwater for the first time in her life as she searched for her friend. Visibility was practically nothing, and she ignored the burning, hacking sensation her lungs and eyes were sending to her brain. She caught a glimpse of a thrashing limb, and she thrust blindly with the dirk. She heard a wailing squeal, and suddenly she saw a pair of big brown eyes staring at her. Sam tore up to the surface, her arm in more pain than she remembered for a long while, and Amy was not far behind.

There was the sickening zip of an arrow plunging into the creature's eye, and the whole beast shuddered. Boromir had slung Sam over his shoulder before Amy even knew what had happened, and suddenly two muscular arms had been wrapped around her. Aragorn tossed both girls bodily inside the doors and the whole Fellowship piled in, scurrying away from the roaring beast behind them. The tentacles shot out again, this time grabbing the doors with a loud crunch. Tons of rock poured down, shale and boulders, earth and rock, completely shielding the entrance. The sounds of the monster outside were instantly muffled, and for a long moment they all stood there, trembling from the aftermath of the sudden, shocking attack. Then Aragorn broke the silence, turning angrily to Amy. "What were you thinking? Lady Amy, you could have been killed!" he growled. Amy got up, and Legolas saw something he had never seen before in Amy's eyes.

Defiance.

Bold-faced defiance.

"You think I'm going to let my best friend get eaten by some squid thing while I just sit there and twiddle my thumbs? Huh? Well, let me tell you something, buster, you got another thing coming! If she's in trouble, I'm getting her out. Capeesh?" her light green eyes were blazing with anger, and even though she was extremely shore and petite, Aragorn took a step backwards. She was ferocious when she was angry. Slowly, the Fellowship continued inside the cave, Gandalf leading the way. Sam dropped behind, staying with Amy at the rear of the procession, and whispered in her ear.

"You were freakin' awesome." Sam said. She felt, more than saw, Amy's grin.

"I know."