A/N: So for those of you who don't like to read the parts that are also in the movie, you're probably not going to enjoy the Moria chapters much. Sorry. But I didn't just want to stick in a paragraph that went, "And the Fellowship commenced on a grueling journey through Moria in which most of them were traumatized and Gandalf died. Cool." Because...well you know, Gandalf and trauma and all that fun stuff.
But try and enjoy anyways because it was fun to write, and drop a review to give me any thoughts. :)
Gimli was strolling through the dark mine as if taking a pleasant walk through the woods of Imladris. He turned to Legolas and Miraleth with a triumphant grin. "Soon, Master Elves, you will be enjoying the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin. And they call it a mine." Gimli snorted with disbelief. "A mine!"
But Gandalf had lit his staff with starlight and was casting the light about the chamber, and Miraleth stopped in her tracks, tightening her grip on Legolas' arm and stopping him with her. Everywhere she looked, rotted, decayed bodies littered the floor and dark, rust-colored stains covered the stone—dried blood.
"This is no mine," Boromir shook his head as realization dawned on him. "It's a tomb."
Upon realizing this, the Hobbits gasped and jumped away. Arrows stuck out of the bodies, which lay in broken, grotesque positions. Miraleth spied one corpse with an axe sticking out of its skull, and another with its head turned all the way around.
"No," Gimli stared around in horror at the so-called home of his cousin Balin. "No!" He jumped over the corpses and ran about the entrance hall, leaning down to study a corpse of what was doubtlessly a Dwarf. "No!" He roared.
Legolas ran over to the nearest shot corpse and knelt to rip an arrow from its chest. He studied the black iron tip. "Goblins." He threw down the arrow in disgust and drew his bow at the exact moment Miraleth drew hers and Aragorn and Boromir drew their swords. Miraleth nocked two arrows just to be safe.
"Is this the darkness that lies in these mines?" Legolas asked Miraleth.
She shook her head. "No. Not goblins. But they do not help matters, do they? I told you that you would not find your cousin Balin here, Gimli," She snapped when he continued to roar over the corpses of his kin. "There is evil that has taken over your beloved mines of Moria."
Boromir was brandishing his sword at every pebble that moved. "We make for the Gap of Rohan," he said grimly, backing towards the entrance of Moria. "We should never have come here!"
Aragorn pushed the Hobbits towards the entrance of the mine. "Get out. Get out!" He shouted, his eyes not leaving the entrance hall. Suddenly, Frodo was yanked from Sam's arm.
"Frodo! Frodo!"
Miraleth turned to see something drag Frodo away by the leg. He yelled, the Hobbits shouted and rushed after him, grabbing for his arms and chopping at a tentacle that had Frodo by the ankle.
"Strider!" Sam yelled for Aragorn just as he and Boromir were sprinting towards Frodo. With one final chop from Sam, the tentacle released Frodo and retreated into the water.
Miraleth and Legolas stopped when the water was still again—but only for a split second before not one, but twelve tentacles surged from the murky pond, moving and writhing and heading straight for Frodo again. In another second, they had knocked the Hobbits aside and lifted Frodo into the air by the leg. He screamed.
Legolas shot at the tentacle holding Frodo, but one arrow was only a minor annoyance to the creature holding him.
"Come on!" Aragorn shouted and led Boromir into the water, chopping and slicing at tentacles as they ran.
Miraleth aimed and shot the two arrows she had nocked earlier—the tentacle dropped Frodo, only so he could be held hostage again by another writhing appendage. This one lowered Frodo to where the creature's head had surfaced. It opened its jaws wide and revealed rows upon rows of terrible, jagged fangs.
"No!" Boromir roared and sprinted forward to chop off the tentacle holding Frodo at the base. Frodo fell from the open air into Boromir's arms, who backpedaled as fast as he could out of the water.
"Into the mines!" Gandalf commanded, and raced into the darkness once more.
"Aim for its head," Legolas rushed out and Miraleth nocked another arrow, letting it fly for the spot straight between the creature's awful eyes. It let out a roar and reared back, giving Aragorn just enough time to race out of the water. Legolas shot it again, and Miraleth shot it again, and again, and again. By now they were nocking three arrows for each shot, and still the creature kept coming. Miraleth backed into the mine as someone shouted to run, and she shot arrow after arrow even as the creature surged from the water and braced its tentacles inside the doorway of the mine. Just as it was trying to force itself inside the mine, there was someone shouting for Miraleth and pulling on her sleeve and there was a terrible cracking noise as the doorway to Moria began to collapse.
"Faster!" someone shouted and they raced further into the mine to escape the falling rocks until the entrance had completely collapsed.
It was deathly quiet.
It was pitch black.
And the only thing Miraleth was sure of was that she still had an arrow nocked and a death grip on her bow.
They stayed a moment, unsure, in the mine that stank of evil until a light shined in the darkness—Gandalf's staff. "We now have but one choice," Gandalf's voice was deep and solemn. He hit the bottom of his staff on the stone floor and the light brightened, illuminating his tired, weary face. The sound of his staff echoed through the mine. "We must face the long, dark of Moria."
As Miraleth's eyes adjusted, she could see Aragorn lifting up the packs onto his back and Boromir urging the Hobbits, who huddled together in a wet and frightened mass, forward to follow Gandalf. Legolas was completely still, watching Gandalf as he moved forward. Gimli was still in a state of shock, his eyes downcast and his face sorrowful.
Miraleth lightened the grip on her bow and slipped it over her back, sliding the arrow back into the quiver. She stepped forward to put a gentle hand on Gimli's shoulder. He did not protest.
"Be on your guard," Gandalf continued. "There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." He turned and exchanged a meaningful glance with Miraleth, whose face hardened to hide the fright in her eyes.
The Fellowship followed Gandalf slowly, uncertainly, stepping between and over the twisted corpses that still littered the area. Miraleth saw Pippin cover his face with his hand while Merry guided him forward.
"Quietly now," Gandalf whispered when Boromir kicked at a helmet on the ground. The sound echoed for much longer than Miraleth would've liked, and she drew a shaky breath. "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."
After climbing the broad stairs at the end of the entrance hall, the mine opened up into an enormous, dank, dark cavern. Miraleth was certain the whole of Rivendell could have fit inside.
"Miraleth," Gandalf called. "A word, my dear." He put an arm around her shoulders and lowered his voice to a murmur when she had worked her way up the narrow path of stone they were creeping along. "I do not doubt that your father has told you all about what sleeps in the depths of Moria. The thing of shadow the Dwarves awoke when their mines dug down too deeply."
She looked at the old wizard, frightened to speak aloud the thought that had been in her mind since they had entered the mines of Moria. Instead she only put on a brave face, forced her chin up, and murmured a confirmation. "Yes."
He regarded her heavily. He knew her terror despite the bravery on her face and did not blame her for it. "…Yes." He echoed. "If all goes well through Moria we will escape out the other side unnoticed, and the darkness that lies here will remain sleeping. We should do well to keep the knowledge of its existence between you and I, hmm? No need to cause any unnecessary panic amongst the Hobbits."
She nodded. "Yes, Gandalf."
"There's a good girl," He patted her on the shoulder and she slowed, letting Gandalf go ahead, until Legolas caught up with her.
"What did Gandalf say?" He put a hand on her back to gently urge her forward before she reached the back of the Fellowship, where she would be outside the sight and range of Aragorn and Legolas.
She shook her head. "Nothing. Just…asking about my father." She lied smoothly.
"Oh. Well speed up a bit, I don't like the smell of this place…" Legolas cast an uneasy look around the cavern and fell silent with the rest of the Fellowship until they were through to the other side of the huge hall. After the cavern, they followed a winding staircase until they reached the mines themselves. The Fellowship crept their way along the side of the mine, where the only walkable ground was. The rest of the mine was a deep, dark pit laden with ladders and buckets and chains at the edges.
Gandalf stopped in front of Legolas and Miraleth to run his hand over a section of spidery, silvery ore that was woven into the rock. "The wealth of Moria was not in gold, or jewels," He turned from the rock face and cast the light from his staff into the pit before them. "But mithril." The light from Gandalf's staff illuminated what was below them—miles and miles of mithril ore, farther than the eye could see. Miraleth nearly fell over the edge leaning to get a better look—Legolas pulled her back by the wrist. The ore glittered and shined like starlight, and she smiled softly, comforted that such beauty could exist in a place so dark as Moria.
"Bilbo had a set of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," Gandalf continued as he began walking again.
Gimli's mouth formed an 'o' shape. "Oh, that was a kingly gift!"
"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire." He laughed.
The Fellowship grew silent once more as they passed out of the mines. After countless more miles of winding paths, dreadfully steep staircases, and mines, each bigger than the last, Miraleth began to lose her sense of time. Was the sun in the sky outside? Or was it after dark? How long had they been walking through the stone paths of Moria? Gandalf said three days—why did it feel like three centuries? (But at least her nightmares had quieted down some. Gone were the bloody, gruesome images. Now she Saw only a scrawny, twisted, gray-skinned figure scrambling and climbing over the stone walls in the mines of Moria, his bug-like, watery eyes bitter and malevolent.)
More than once, Legolas had cast her worried glances. "Are you feeling alright? Your face is pale." He would say.
And Miraleth would nod, though her stomach continued to churn and her lungs continued to reject the stale, stagnant air of the mines. "Quite alright," She would reply. But Legolas would offer her his arm for support anyway, because he knew her better than that, and she would take it, grateful to have him there with her in the dark mines.
On the fourth day, they came to a small chamber with three identical doorways. Gandalf paused before them, face setting in a frown. "I have no memory of this place," he whispered, his brow furrowed.
"We could flip a coin," Pippin suggested innocently. "That always helps me decide things."
"No, no, I would not leave our path through Moria to a game of chance," Gandalf shook his head and lowered himself down onto a rock facing the doorways. "We best wait here until we can think of another course of action."
Boromir glanced uneasily down the steep staircase they had come from and ushered the Hobbits further into the chamber. "Sam, why don't you make a fire," he suggested quietly. "No use in discomfort as long as we're stopped."
Sam nodded and went to find the pack with the firewood. Miraleth sat in front of the small pile of wood Sam was tending to, and Merry and Pippin sat across from one another, rolling a small stone back and forth. Legolas, dutiful as ever, went to stand at the top of the staircase, watching for any sign of movement in the deep dark, his arms crossed across his chest.
The silence proved to be too much for Pippin, who tossed the stone away when Merry rolled it to him. "Merry," he whispered.
"What?"
"Are we lost?"
"No."
"I think we are."
"Shhh!" Sam hissed. "Gandalf's thinking."
"Merry,"
"What?"
"I'm hungry."
Merry rolled his eyes and dug into his pack for a spare piece of bread for Pippin. "Here," He tossed it over to him, annoyed. Pippin grinned.
Frodo suddenly scrambled up and went to where Gandalf sat. They began to converse in hushed tones, Frodo significantly more anxious about whatever it was that was bothering him than Gandalf seemed to be. After exchanging a curious glance, Merry and Pippin crawled over to sit on either side of Miraleth, the closest elf to them.
"Miraleth?" Pippin whispered.
"What?"
"What are Frodo and Gandalf saying?"
She eyed the Hobbit. "You are too curious for your own good, Peregrin Took. Always wanting to know other people's business." She heard Aragorn snort.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What are they saying?"
Annoyed, she glanced behind her at Frodo and Gandalf, listening for a moment to their hushed tones. She turned back towards the fire, uninterested. "They are speaking of Gollum."
Merry and Pippin looked at each other. "What's Gollum?"
"Never you mind, Merry," She advised. "He is no threat to you. Mind your own business."
"He?" She heard Merry whisper to Pippin when she got up and walked towards where Legolas stood watch. "Gollum's a he?"
Legolas brushed her arm with his fingers when she reached him, though his eyes did not leave the darkness they had come out of. "Gollum?" He asked, having overheard her conversation with Merry and Pippin.
Miraleth pointed down to where a lanky, grotesque figure pulled itself up over a rock and scuttled out of sight. "Since we entered Moria."
Legolas drew his bow and nocked an arrow—Miraleth hurriedly put a hand on his arm. "No," She breathed sharply. "He will be useful to Frodo yet."
Legolas hesitated, but his trust of Miraleth's judgement won out over his hatred of the creature called Gollum and he slipped his bow over his back once more. "We had him in Mirkwood," Legolas said bitterly. "For years after Gandalf brought him to us, do you remember?"
"Yes." Miraleth had been in Mirkwood with Arwen when Gandalf had appeared out of nowhere, Gollum in tow. The awful little thing had spat and cursed at everything, screaming and howling for his precious and cursing Bilbo Baggins to the ends of the earth. "Why did Thranduil set him loose?"
"He didn't. The thing escaped." And then Mordor had gotten to him and tortured him until he screamed the name "Baggins"—Miraleth knew the story after that.
"Ah!" She and Legolas turned when Gandalf stood cheerily. "It's that way!"
"He's remembered!" Merry grinned.
"No," Gandalf lit his staff again and stood at the doorway, looking down into the darkness. "But the air doesn't smell so foul down here." He put his hat on and leaned down. "When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."
Aragorn stamped out the fire, and they were on their way again. The doorway Gandalf had picked led them down a winding staircase that Miraleth didn't think was ever going to end until finally, it opened up into a giant cavern that made the first cavern they had passed through in Moria seem like a broom closet.
"Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf said, and when his staff brightened, Miraleth saw that it wasn't a cavern at all—it was a great, magnificent hall, with grand pillars supporting the ceiling. "Behold…the great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf," Gandalf raised his staff. Miraleth heard Gimli gasp, and she could understand why he was so proud to be kin to the master of these halls. It was easy to imagine fires keeping the walls alight while a great feast progressed, laughter roaring through the hall and Dwarves running to and fro.
"There's an eye-opener, and no mistake," Sam whispered, awed by the vastness of the place. Gandalf led them forward, and it seemed to never end. She found herself feeling small; smaller than she had ever felt before and smaller than she ever would feel again. She was just about to express her thoughts to Legolas when Gimli shouted and ran towards a sliver of light in the dark hall— a cracked door way surrounded by corpses.
"Gimli!" Gandalf said sharply, but Gimli ran on into the smaller chamber and out of sight. Hands by their weapons, the Fellowship ran after him. Miraleth nearly backpedaled out of the chamber when the stench of death hit her. Corpses and debris were scattered around like dead flowers in a meadow of stone. Something terrible had happened here—pillars had been torn down and lay on their sides, and bricks fell from holes in the walls.
"No!" Gimli moaned and collapsed to his knees in front of a stone crypt. The crypt was dusty and dirty from its years in the deserted mines and cracks had been weathered into the stone from bugs and wind from drafts in the room, but Gimli knelt before it with a reverence as if it had been made from solid gold and encrusted in jewels. He put his face in his hands and sobbed quietly, moaning his sorrow as Gandalf and the rest of their party filtered into the room.
Gandalf leaned over Gimli to peer at the runes on the crypt. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gimli wailed again, and Gandalf slipped off his hat, bowing his head towards the tomb of the great Dwarf Balin. When he lifted his head again, his eyes swept around the destroyed chamber. "He is dead then. It's as I feared." He frowned grimly, and handed his staff and hat to Pippin. Gandalf leaned down and pried a grimy, dusty tome from the arms of a corpse, who had died holding it close to him. Miraleth's stomach twisted when the arms of the corpse cracked and released the book.
Legolas leaned up towards Aragorn when Gandalf opened the book, pages and dirt falling from its broken spine. "We must move on. We cannot linger," he hissed and glanced uneasily around the chamber.
If Gandalf heard the elf, he did not say so, and his old eyes sought out the faded runes in the book as he began to read. "They have taken the bridge, and the second hall." Gimli looked up at Gandalf in horror—was he really going to force him to listen to how his people fell?—and Boromir put a hand on his shoulder. Gandalf did not pay Gimli any mind. "We have barred the gates,"Gandalf continued, his voice heavy with the weight of the words he read. "But we cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums…drums…in the deep." The Hobbits huddled close together, and Boromir, Legolas, and Aragorn grew increasingly uneasy the longer Gandalf read from the heavy tome—and it was becoming increasingly clearer that he was reading the last words of a dwarf here in this chamber. "We cannot get out. The shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out…"
Miraleth crept over to his side and peered at the runes over his shoulder. The last line was a crooked scrawl that faded into nothing. Blood was smeared over it, dark and rust-colored.
"They are coming."
CLANG!
Miraleth spun with a dagger drawn in her hand towards Pippin, where he stood by a well and a very recently beheaded corpse. His face was ashen and he stood stock-still as the head fell through the mines. Just as it began to quiet down, the body fell into the well, and then a heavy chain that had been tied to the arm, and then an iron bucket at the end of the chain. Each rattle and clang echoed a thousand times over, into every crack and crevice in Moria, and Pippin flinched with every echo.
After what seemed like an age, the noises stopped. The Hobbits relaxed, and Aragorn let out an anxious breath he had been holding. Boromir closed his eyes and murmured a prayer. The tension left Legolas' shoulders and Miraleth squeezed her eyes shut. They had been so close to the end of the mines. Any chance of passing through Moria unnoticed was gone now.
Gandalf snapped the dusty tome shut and glared sharply at poor Pippin. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" He snatched his staff and hat back from Pippin, who had not found the courage to meet Gandalf's eyes since the noises stopped.
Miraleth was just drawing in breath for a sigh when the entire Fellowship stopped. No one said a word. No one moved a muscle. No one even drew a breath as they all tried to hear what surely must have been their imaginations, overactive and paranoid from the four days of travel through Moria.
…Boom.
Miraleth's ears twitched and the slightest breath left her parted lips.
Boom.
Gandalf and Pippin slowly turned towards the well, creeping forward to stare down into it. Gandalf's words echoed in Miraleth's mind: Drums…drums…in the deep.
Boom…
The beats were growing louder, and Aragorn and Legolas went to stand on either side of Miraleth, who for once did not scold them for their overprotectiveness. Her hands instead found the hilts of her blades and her eyes roamed the stone walls of the chamber.
…Boom, boom, boom.
Just as Miraleth was beginning to feel a bead of terror blossom in her mind, the beats paused and she nearly let out a breath, until—
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
This time, the drumbeats grew to a heavy fortissimo and did not stop. Like a heartbeat, they continued at a steady beat and accompanied the wails and sounds of creatures deep in the mines. They are coming. Boromir was taking shaky breaths and Aragorn was turning this way and that, casting the light from the torch he held about the chamber, looking for something to appear out of the darkness.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, and Miraleth turned to see Frodo draw his blade Sting, which pulsed with a faint, blue glow, just as a familiar battle cry pierced the air in the distance.
Legolas nocked an arrow in his bow. "Orcs!"
"Boromir!" Miraleth called when he raced to the double doors of the chamber. His eyes searched the great hall of Dwarrowdelf, and he jumped backwards when two arrows embedded themselves in the wood of the doors only inches from the tip of his nose.
"Get back!" Aragorn ordered the Hobbits and pushed them behind him as he threw his torch aside and ran to help Boromir barricade the doors. "Stay with Gandalf!"
Something roared. "They have a cave troll." Boromir smiled grimly. Legolas," he called, and Legolas left Miraleth's side to pick heavy axes off the ground and throw them to Boromir, who helped Aragorn brace them across the doors.
When something rammed against the doors, nearly throwing Aragorn and Boromir off their feet, Gandalf yelled and drew his silver sword. The Hobbits, while frightened and huddled in a corner, found the courage to do the same. The blue glow of Frodo's sword had grown the closer the Orcs had gotten. Miraleth slowly drew her sister's twin blades and swung them in an arc, testing the balance, her eyes never leaving the doors.
Gimli jumped onto the tomb of Balin and brandished his axe, his sorrow hardening into anger. "Bah! Let them come!" He challenged. "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"
Aragorn had drawn a bow, and Boromir his sword. Miraleth thought it was strange seeing Aragorn hold a bow in his hands, but could not find the voice to tease him now. Axes began to crunch through the doors, and when their wielders had managed to make a decent-sized hole in the wood, Legolas let an arrow fly through, hitting flesh on the other side. An Orc screamed.
The foes on the other side of the doors suddenly paused for their fallen comrade and a split second after their axes withdrew from the splintered wood, the doors were torn from their hinges and thrown to the ground. Orcs flooded into the chamber. Legolas and Aragorn shot arrow after arrow as Miraleth and Boromir charged into the swarm of creatures. Boromir yelled and roared as he chopped and hacked at the Orcs, but Miraleth was a silent, deadly flurry of movement and steel. Gimli could only stare as she seemed to fly over the floor, leaving a trail of corpses in her wake. She was so fast he could barely follow her movements, so quiet it was impossible to predict where and when she was about to strike, and she made every move look so effortless, like she was slicing through water. And now he knew what Gandalf had meant at their campsite four days ago—he very much wanted Miraleth on his side in battle. She had been crying and emotional when she watched her brothers ride away, but she was fearless now, her face a stony mask of a merciless warrior. He was snapped out of his reverie when she turned and shrieked, "Stop staring and kill something, son of Gloin!" before turning and slicing off the head of an orc who had been about to embed his axe into her back.
"No need to tell me twice!" He bellowed, and leapt into the fray, chopping an arm from the nearest orc with a yell.
Miraleth saw Gandalf rush into the fighting, armed with sword and staff, and she smiled wryly when she heard four battle cries from her little hobbits as they charged an orc who had had spotted them. But after that, Miraleth had no time to look after anybody but herself. The stream of orcs was endless and for each body she left dead on the floor, it seemed like three more appeared from the shadows to take its place.
She was just wrenching her blades out of the stomach of a particularly heavyset orc—she wrinkled her nose when his entrails spilled onto the floor and stained her boots—when there was a terrible roar and a crash of stone. She turned to see a monstrous cave troll smash through the doorway. It bellowed and spittle coated the side of Miraleth's face. (She made a face and squeaked as she wiped it off with the tunic of the nearest dead orc. Later, Boromir would tease her about being worried about cave troll spit when she was already covered in blood and grime.) Legolas aimed and shot the troll in the shoulder, but it only roared louder, annoyed, and started forward, waving its enormous club in the air.
"Sam!" Frodo yelled, and Sam dived out of the way just in time as the troll's club came crashing down where he'd been standing in awe and shock of the creature that roared and bellowed.
"Miraleth!" Aragorn shouted and she bounded over to where he and Boromir were wrestling an orc for the chains that looped around the troll's neck. She sliced through the orc's throat, halfway beheading him, and he fell back, blood black as oil spraying from his neck. "Come on!" Aragorn gritted his teeth as Miraleth helped the two men pull the troll away from Sam. The chains held strong, and the troll roared angrily when it found itself being dragged away from the cowering halfling. Growling, the troll turned and swung his club through the air. Aragorn ducked, but Boromir was not quite quick enough, and he was thrown off his feet and clear across to the other side of the chamber, where he hit the wall and fell to the floor, motionless.
"Boromir!" Miraleth called, ducking blows from the troll and fighting off the steady inflow of orcs. "Boromir!"
He coughed and pulled himself to a sitting position, shaking his head to clear his vision. "Yes, yes, I'm alive, and alright, and damn it all, someone kill that troll!" He shouted, not noticing the orc that raised its weapon above him. Before Miraleth could yell a warning, Aragorn flung his sword through the air, impaling the orc and knocking it away from Boromir. The two men nodded at each other.
Meanwhile, Gimli threw his axe at the troll. It stuck in its rough hide, but the troll charged at Gimli, unharmed, and brought its club down on Balin's crypt just as Gimli leapt out of the way. "Not the tomb!" Miraleth heard the dwarf yell irritably.
But then Pippin called for her as he fought off an orc easily three times his size. He yelped and ducked its sword, scrambling backwards away from the creature of Mordor before Miraleth impaled the thing. He spat at the corpse triumphantly in the split second of peace he had before Miraleth ushered him and the other Hobbits behind a slab of rock that had fallen. "Stay here," she rushed out and left them, bounding off to slice through another orc.
She caught a glimpse of blonde hair after stabbing through the next orc that ran at her. "Legolas!" She called as she ran for him, her eyes looking to a raised area—a ledge to shoot from. She jumped and just as she reached the peak of her leap, Legolas' hands were under her feet, and he threw her higher into the air. She grasped the edge of the stone and swung herself up. She reached down to grasp Legolas' forearm, and swung him up onto the ledge as well.
She was shooting arrow after arrow at the orcs that swarmed Aragorn when she heard Gimli shout. The troll was knocking orcs aside with its club in order to get to him. "Shoot it, Legolas!" She urged, and he nocked two arrows, aimed, and shot the troll between the eyes. It reared back, dropping its club and forgetting about Gimli for the moment.
But then there were orcs on the lege—how had they even gotten there?—and Legolas unsheathed a long dagger from inside his quiver to stab and slice through them. Legolas spun around, terrified and shocked, when Miraleth cried out in pain. Her bow had clattered on the ground and she was grasping her forearm, staring at her hand, which was twisted into a position it most certainly was not supposed to be in. Legolas caught her eyes and held her gaze. What had been fast enough and strong enough to even touch her? Not a second after, though, something whipped through the air between Legolas and Miraleth, cracking the stone where it hit it. Legolas and Miraleth followed the recoiling length of iron to the very angry troll that had it wrapped in its hands.
The cave troll had forgotten its club, but discovered the chain around its neck, which was apparently fast enough and strong enough to touch even Miraleth.
Legolas ducked when the chain swung at him again and he stared at the troll, somewhat impressed that it had enough brains to use the chain as a weapon. However, the impressed feeling immediately disappeared when the troll swung at Legolas again, closer this time. Stone and dust sprayed through the air. Legolas jumped out of the way of the next swing, and the chain wrapped around the stone pillar behind him. While the troll tugged and pulled at the stuck chain, Legolas ran across the iron links and jumped up onto the troll's shoulders. The troll turned and twisted and batted at Legolas, but Legolas was quick and sturdy on his feet, and he stayed on the troll's shoulders just long enough to pull back on his bowstring and shoot the troll in the crown of its skull. He jumped from the thing as it stumbled back, shrieking in pain. The chain around his neck groaned, still wrapped around the pillar, and snapped, leaving the troll to trip over its feet for a moment.
Legolas went to return to Miraleth, but she had already hopped from the ledge and was using her good arm to help Sam, who dangerously brandished an iron frying pan. She cradled her injured hand close to her chest, hissing when an orc swatted at it with a club. Legolas shook his head when she chopped off the orc's hand in retribution before running him through with her blade. Even when her bones were broken, she didn't quite understand the notion of backing off.
"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted, and the Elf raced over to help his friend, who was fighting his way towards where the troll had picked up its club again and was going after Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. Frodo was playing a fruitless game of hide-and-seek with the angry troll, and he scurried around a pillar, running around to a different side each time the troll moved to find him. Eventually, the troll grew frustrated with the game and with a roar, he reached out and pulled Frodo by his leg.
"Aragorn! Aragorn!" Frodo shouted, holding on to any rock he could grab onto as the troll pulled him closer. Aragorn shouted back, but was busy with his own swarm of enemies. Frodo reached down and slashed the troll's fingers with Sting. The troll dropped him just as he was pulling Frodo over the ledge had been hiding on, and Frodo fell to a pile of rocks, yelping as the stone dug into his back. The moment spent in pain was the moment that gave the troll enough time to pick up its club and raise it over its head. Frodo yelled—and then Aragorn was there, brandishing a long iron spear and shouting at the troll. He thrust the spear into the troll's chest, through its thick hide, and the troll screamed, dropping its club.
"We're here, Frodo, we're here!" Frodo heard Merry and Pippin shout, as if they were what had saved him (he knew they would certainly take the credit later) and they began to throw rocks at the troll's face. Angry, the troll grabbed the spear that was still lodged in its chest, and used it to throw Aragorn across the chamber. Much like Boromir had earlier, Aragorn hit a stone wall and fell. Unlike Boromir, he did not get up and shake himself off, but remained motionless.
Frodo was left defenseless in a corner, as Sting had fallen from his grasp, and the troll only needed a moment to wrench the spear out of its hide, turn it towards Frodo…
…And shove it, point first, into the Ring Bearer's chest.