A/N: This is pretty much just more transcript and Moria description. Sowwy. It had to be done.

Merry and Pippin threw themselves onto the troll's shoulders from the ledge they stood on and hacked and chopped at the troll's neck with their blunt blades, and Sam yelled Frodo's name as he and Gimli fought off the remaining orcs around them.

It was Miraleth who sliced through the last standing orc in the chamber, the whistle of her blades parting the air screaming for her, and she ran to Frodo's side, ignoring the cave troll that still roared and bellowed. Gandalf threw himself to his knees next to her, his eyes wide with shock. She heard Boromir and the other three Hobbits stab at the troll, yelling all the while, and she heard the twang of bowstring and whiz of an arrow as Legolas shot at the soft flesh inside the troll's mouth the next time it unhinged its jaws to roar. The roar did not come though, and after stumbling for a few moments, the troll fell forward, dead.

By the time Aragorn crawled over to where Frodo lay, Miraleth had rolled him over onto his back. She held his face in her good hand. His eyes were closed. "Frodo. Frodo!" She cried desperately. She pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "Lasto beth nîn, peredhil," Her voice was gentle and the Elvish flowed from her lips like water, but Gandalf could hear the panic in her tone. She was not quite the healer that her father and sister were. "Lasto beth nîn. Tolo dan na ngalad. Dartho! Dartho!"

Aragorn put a hand on Frodo's chest, about to tear the fabric of his shirt open to examine the stab wound, but Frodo coughed violently and stirred, stopping Aragorn in his actions. Miraleth raked a hand through his hair and looked at his face, looking for any sign of serious injury.

She heard Sam relax behind her. "He…he's alive," he grinned, relieved.

"I'm alright," Frodo gasped when Aragorn helped him into a sitting position. "I'm not hurt."

Aragorn and Miraleth exchanged a confusion-filled glance before Aragorn shook his head. "You should be dead," He whispered, wonder clear in his voice. He chuckled. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

Gandalf shook his head and stilled Frodo with a knowing gaze. "I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." Frodo broke away from Gandalf's stare to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt. The silvery sheerness of mithril shined back at Miraleth, and she let out an amazed laugh and ran her hand through Frodo's hair again.

"Mithril…" Gimli echoed her thoughts. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins." The Dwarf's eyes crinkled with his smile.

But their moment of shocked happiness was short lived as the cries of orcs pierced the air again, and Legolas reached down to pull her to her feet, minding her injured hand. Gandalf urged them all to their feet and out the destroyed doorway. "To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!" He pointed down to the end of the great hall of Dwarrowdelf. Miraleth could not see it, but she hoped Gandalf was right and that it was the way out. They did not walk, as they had the past three days through Moria, or hope for stealth, but instead flat out ran across the stone floor, Gandalf's staff lighting the way. Miraleth made the mistake of looking over her shoulder as they ran, and she gasped—a wave of orcs surged behind them, running just as fast as they were, if not faster. And as they ran, the orcs seemed to multiply, coming from every which direction. They jumped up from cracks in the stone floor, poured from holes in the walls, and scuttled down the pillars from above like spiders, whooping and hollering their strange war cries. The Fellowship had made it perhaps halfway across the cavernous hall when the Hobbits began to gasp for air and stumble over cracks in the ground and no matter how urgently Miraleth coaxed them on, they slowed to a jog and the rest of the Fellowship was forced to slow down with them. Soon enough, they were surrounded by the bug-like orcs. Miraleth was cradling her mangled hand, and Aragorn put his arm around her waist and drew her towards him as he pointed his sword out towards the sea of black, leathery skin. She would have some protection as they died here, even if it was not her own.

The longer she stared at the faces of the orcs around them, the stranger they began to look. These were not the orcs that fought for Sauron in Mordor, and they were not the orcs that Saruman brought into the world at Isengard. They were bug-like, scrawny little things, with big eyes and shrill voices. Goblin-like.

Before she had a chance to bring it up to Aragorn, the orcs stopped, eyes wide as something growled in the distance. The growl was deep and clear and the walls shook with the sound. Miraleth snapped her head around with Gandalf to look towards the end of the hall they had come from. Something lit the walls with an orange glow. No. The orcs knew what was coming, too, and they raced off the way they had come, shrieking and crying and scuttling for the safety of darkness. She could hear Gimli laughing triumphantly, but could not find the voice to tell him to hush. She gripped Aragorn's arm, who gave her a strange look. "What is it?"

She could not reply. Fear had paralyzed her.

One by one, the members of the Fellowship lowered their weapons and turned towards the terrible growls that ripped through the air.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir whispered quietly, eyes narrowed.

Gandalf had his eyes closed for a few moments, and they snapped open when the growling increased in volume. He looked wearier and older than Miraleth had ever seen. "A Balrog. A demon from an ancient world."

Legolas nearly dropped his bow, he moved so quickly towards Miraleth. "A Balrog," he echoed quietly into Miraleth's ear. "The darkness that lies within Moria is a Balrog." Miraleth could not speak, and Legolas cursed. "Gandalf, if I had known a Balrog slept in the darkness here I would never have let us come through the mines!"

Boromir looked down the hall towards the light. "Can this Balrog be felled?"

Gandalf shook his head. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

They sprinted towards the end of the hall—Miraleth never thought she would run so desperately towards shadow and away from light. When they reached the end, Gandalf pushed them each through the stone doorway. "Quickly!" He exclaimed, his eyes never leaving the light at the other end of the hall. Boromir advanced through the door a bit too quickly, though, and nearly fell over the edge where the ground ended. His torch fell over, and he watched it fall for many of hundreds of feet before Legolas ran forward and pulled him back over solid ground.

"Gandalf!" Miraleth gasped when the wizard collapsed against the stone wall, and she grasped his robe. Aragorn ran back to help him forward, but Gandalf only took Aragorn's shoulder and shook his head. "Lead them on, Aragorn! The bridge is near!"

Yes, it was near—Miraleth could see Khazad-dûm in the distance, a long narrow stretch of bridge between two great stone walls.

But Miraleth did not trust Aragorn leading her through Moria nearly as much as she trusted Gandalf and she pulled on his robe. "Gandalf, come on!"

"Do as I say!" Gandalf bellowed and shoved Aragorn down the steps when Aragorn stared at him, confused. Gandalf took Miraleth's hand and pressed it into Aragorn's. "Take Miraleth and lead them all to the bridge! Swords are no more use here," Gandalf snapped and followed Aragorn down the steps after the Hobbits.

"Go!" Aragorn commanded Miraleth. "To the front with Legolas!" Too tired to argue, she wove her way through the Hobbits and between Boromir and Gimli to scamper down the steps just behind Legolas. When they came to a gap in the staircase, Legolas jumped across without a second thought, and turned to catch Miraleth in his arms when she leapt across as well. They turned to where the Fellowship had stopped, eyeing the gap uneasily. Some of their uneasiness turned into worry when something roared behind them and stone began to fall from the ceiling.

"Gandalf!" Legolas called from across the gap, and gestured him over. Just as Legolas caught him on the other side, an arrow whizzed by his ear and struck the stone where Gandalf had stood only seconds before. Miraleth turned to look towards a ledge of stone far above them—orcs were there with bows, shooting down at them, safe from the reach of the Balrog. The Hobbits gasped and jumped about when the orcs shot at their feet, and Legolas aimed and shot the closet orc—the closest, but still a speck in the distance above them. But it was Legolas shooting the bow, Miraleth reminded herself, and the orc tumbled from his perch with a shriek.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir yelled and wrapped an arm around each Hobbit, pushing off from the edge of the stair and landing before Legolas and Gandalf. Legolas had waved Miraleth off, not wanting her to injure herself any more than she already had.

The force of Boromir's jump had forced a good bit of the stair they had jumped from to crumble away, and Aragorn and Gimli scrambled back to avoid falling over the edge. His face grim, Aragorn held his arms out towards the nearest Hobbit. "Sam," he said, and tossed a flailing Sam across the gap to be caught by Boromir. Next, Aragorn held out his arms to Gimli, but the stubborn Dwarf held up his hand, halting Aragorn, and strapped his axe across his back. "Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" He narrowed his eyes in determination and leapt across the gap with a yell. He nearly fell into the chasm below before Legolas ran forward and grabbed the Dwarf by the beard. "Not the beard!" Miraleth heard him yell.

After Gimli had jumped, though, more of the staircase had crumbled away, and Aragorn and Frodo scrambled even further away from the rest of the Fellowship. The gap was now too far to jump or be thrown across, and Aragorn stood holding Frodo by the shoulder, at a loss. The Balrog roared behind them again, and stone fell from the ceiling. Miraleth watched in horror as this time, a slab of rock crashed through the bit of staircase behind Aragorn and Frodo, and they were suddenly falling backwards.

Boromir yelled, Sam shouted. The island of stair Aragorn and Frodo were trapped on crashed into the stair behind them, and rocked forward again. "Hang on!" Aragorn shouted to Frodo, whose face was full of panic. "Lean forward!" Aragorn said when they rocked back again, and the next time they rocked forward, their perilous island of stairs crashed just where Aragorn wanted it to, and he and Frodo leapt into the arms of their companions just as the stairs they had escaped fell over and crashed down into the chasm below. Miraleth did not see it happen though, Boromir was urging her down the winding staircase that didn't seem to have an ending. By the time they reached level ground, they had slowed their sprint to a run, as the Hobbits were tiring, and fires blazed around them. The Balrog was so close, and the heat from the fires nearly seared Miraleth alive every time she took a breath.

"Over the bridge!" Gandalf shouted when they finally came to the stretch of stone. Miraleth had overestimated it. It was narrower than she had thought, and she wondered if the Hobbits would be able to keep their balance at all, carrying all the packs. But adrenaline won out above fear, and they raced across it after Aragorn and Boromir. Miraleth turned when she could no longer feel Gandalf's presence behind her, and saw that he had turned to stare at the fire demon that suddenly stood before them. She had seen Balrogs and other demons of ancient worlds only in the books of her father's library, and seeing the fire demon in front of her now paralyzed her with a terror she could not explain. It was indeed a monster of shadow and flame, with two great horns on its head. It roared, and someone—Legolas—pulled her sleeve, urging her across the bridge.

She turned to help Gandalf off the stretch of stone when she reached the other side, but he had stopped and turned at the middlepoint of the bridge, facing the Balrog from under strands of sweaty, gray hair. "You cannot pass!" He shouted at the demon.

"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed.

And then the Balrog had wings, great masses of darkness and shadow and ash, and it roared as it stood up to its full height, bursting with flame. Miraleth collapsed into Legolas, who stood behind her.

Gandalf raised his staff, and it blazed with light, white and pure, brighter than Miraleth had seen it during their four day trip through Moria. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor," Gandalf continued. His voice boomed throughout the last cavern of Moria. "The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn!"

Gandalf's staff glowed even brighter, surrounding the wizard in some beautiful orb of light as the Balrog raised its arm to summon a great sword of flame. It brought the sword down onto Gandalf, and the globe of light from Gandalf's staff threw the Balrog's arm back, shattering the firesword. The Balrog reared back, screaming in anger, and Legolas looped his arms around Miraleth's waist when she leaned forward, terrified for Gandalf, who set his staff and silver sword between himself and the demon. "Go back to the shadow!"

But the Balrog instead advanced upon Gandalf, a cloven hoof stepping onto the bridge. Miraleth heard Frodo gasp as the Balrog drew a fiery whip from within itself. He snapped it, and lightning cracked in the cavern, but Gandalf stood his ground, drawing his sword and staff together and raising them into the air in front of him. "You…shall not…pass!" He roared and brought his weapons down onto the stone of the bridge. There was a cracking sound, and when the Balrog advanced forward again, raising its whip in the air, the bridge collapsed out from under it, and it fell towards the depths of Moria, where it belonged.

Miraleth heard Aragorn release a breath when Gandalf turned and began to finish crossing the bridge, but she started forward and yelled—"Gandalf!"—as there was another cracking sound and the Balrog's whip snapped around Gandalf's ankle, yanking him over the edge of the bridge. His sword and staff both clattered from his hands as he was pulled over into the darkness, his fingers grasping whatever stone he could find.

Frodo ran forward, screaming Gandalf's name, and Boromir wrapped his arms around the Hobbit's middle, holding him back. "No, no!"

Gandalf struggled to find a fingerhold in the stone of the bridge in vain, and after finding one for a split second, ceased his struggling and met the eyes of the terrified members of the Fellowship he was supposed to protect.

"Fly, you fools!" He commanded harshly and fell into the chasm, arms outstretched like he was falling into a soft bed after a long journey. The Balrog was a distant light below him.

Miraleth watched in stunned silence until Frodo began to scream. The little hobbit tried pushing Boromir's arms away, but he only held Frodo tighter, pulling him away from the bridge and up into his arms.

"Aragorn!" Boromir shouted, and Aragorn ran up the next staircase after him as arrows begin to rain down on them again. The orcs had returned, but Miraleth didn't care a bit. She cared only for her Mithrandir, and tried to push Legolas away from her as she reached for the bridge.

"No! No! No, Legolas, let go of me!" She screeched and cried, arms outstretched towards the broken bridge of Khazad-dûm where Gandalf had fallen.

Gandalf is not dead.

She felt Legolas picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder as he raced out of the cavern, up the staircase after Gimli. Miraleth did not know how much longer they ran before they came out into the daylight. It felt like eternities upon eternities. Aragorn told her later it was mere seconds, but she could not bring herself to believe him. How could it only have been seconds? How could the broken bridge of Khazad-dûm be etched so clearly in her mind if she had only looked upon it for seconds after Gandalf had fallen?

The land outside the exit of Moria was not much better than inside. They were still somewhere in the Misty Mountains and the landscape for miles around them was rocky and barren. The only thing outside Moria that had not been inside was the sunlight and fresh air, but even that did not comfort Miraleth now. The sunlight felt bleak, and the air that should have been refreshing to breathe only hurt going down her throat. It was too cold.

She was cold.

She shivered.

Sam was the first to collapse in a fit of tears, throwing himself down upon the rock and burying his face in his hands to hide his sobs, and then everyone else broke down, one by one. Gimli was shouting Dwarvish nonsense, and Boromir was grasping him by the shoulders, holding him close and crying nonsense straight back at him. Gimli struggled against him, fighting back towards the doorway to Moria, but Boromir did not let go. Merry held Pippin, where he had curled into a ball on the ground and cried. Legolas wrapped strong arms around Miraleth and held her tight while she wept and cried into his chest, her arms tight around his middle. Elvish nonsense flowed from her lips, but Legolas did not say anything. He only pushed her hair out of her face while she wept for her Mithrandir, tucking that stubborn curl behind her ear each time it broke free. Legolas did not weep, or cry, or speak at all. He had known Gandalf the longest out of any of them, longer than Miraleth only because of the few centuries he was older than her by. He was stricken silent by Gandalf's sudden end, and so Miraleth wept for him too, for the tears he would not show in front of the Hobbits and for the sorrow he would not show to the rest of the Fellowship. Legolas was strong—he had to be, or else who would be? Miraleth knew this, and she wept for him so he would not have to.

Miraleth's sobs quieted down to simple tears that ran down her face after some time, but her arms only tightened around Legolas. "I l-l-ost my b-bow. When I d-dropped it in that a-awful t-t-tomb." She hiccupped slightly. Gandalf had shaped her the bow from a tree in Mirkwood for her hundredth birthday.

Someone pulled on her sleeve and when she looked down, Merry and Pippin were there. Merry was holding her mahogany bow. After looking down at it for a bit, he held it out to her. Legolas released Miraleth so she could turn towards the Hobbits. Before either of them said anything, Pippin's face broke and his lips trembled as sobs tore from his throat. Miraleth knelt to the ground and took her little Hobbits into her arms. Her bow clattered to the stone ground again, forgotten once more.

"Legolas!" Aragorn's voice startled Miraleth, who looked up from her kneeling position on the ground, where she still held the Hobbits. Aragorn nodded towards the exhausted Fellowship. "Get them up."

Boromir's face scrunched up, lip trembling as he turned towards Aragorn. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"

And yet Aragorn remained the dutiful leader. "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Boromir was quiet, and he continued. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien."

Miraleth wanted to cry again when Aragorn gestured towards the forest of green in the distance. She did not want to go to Lothlórien. She wanted to run back into Moria and retrieve Gandalf from its awful depths.

"Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli," Aragorn waved an arm. "Get them up."

Boromir nodded and pulled Sam from the rock. "On your feet, Sam." His voice was hoarse, and Sam nodded and wiped his puffy, red eyes with his dirty sleeve.

Gimli helped Merry and Pippn up from the ground, and sheparded them over to where Boromir and Sam were heading for Aragorn, who was calling after Frodo—he had wandered off a bit.

Legolas, quiet as ever, offered a hand to Miraleth, who was still kneeling on the hard, stony ground. Her tears had cleaned streaks into the grime and blood that dirtied her face and her injured hand hung limply in her lap. "Tula, Miraleth." He murmured softly. "Aragorn will not want to wait for long."

"I suppose not." She sniffled once, quietly, before slipping her bow around her back and taking Legolas' hand. He pulled to her feet and placed a hand on the small of her back to keep her from falling as her feet started forward again.

Lasto beth nîn, peredhil.—Hear my voice, little hobbit.

Lasto beth nîn. Tolo dan na ngalad. Dartho!—Hear my voice. Come back to the light. Stay!

Tula—Come