An Unexpected Ring
Chapter 17
Scared of the Dark?
I don't remember what fear is like.
However, even though my mind does not remember, my body does.
It is like a pit yawning wide in my stomach which cannot be filled.
A tingling upon my skin, like electricity dancing atop my flesh.
It is the shortness of breath as it is stolen away.
Fear is immaterial. It cannot be studied or understood.
It can only be experienced.
The Fell Dragon knows this well.
Morgan learned many things since waking up in Ithilien. She learned that salt pork was delicious, but it needed to be enjoyed in moderation. Too much salt burned her tongue, and too much pork… well, she actually could never get enough pork. She learned that most of Middle Earth was craggy wilderness, but that meant there was cool stuff to find. Neat rock formations and interesting ruins were plenty. There were bugs though. Nasty bugs. She shuddered at the thought.
Oh, and snow! She had no idea what it was, but now that she was covered in it she could safely say she thought it was fantastic. The others didn't share her opinion though. Might have something to do with trudging through waist-high snow in the middle of a blizzard along a narrow path that snaked along the side of a sheer cliff.
But snow! It's cold. It's crunchy beneath the toes. It's-
Morgan yelped as her next footfall failed to find solid ground. Legolas' hand snapped out, snagging her by her hood before she could plummet through the false floor of snow and down the mountainside. She dangled, snow cascading around her as her feet kicked in the air. Both of her hands flew up to Legolas' arm, latching onto his wrist like a vice. With a grunt, Legolas hauled her back to the trail. Morgan then plastered herself to the face of the cliff, breathing hard. She looked at the elf as he stood on top of the snow.
How does he do that?
"Are you alright?" He asked, snowflakes barely clinging to him. As for Morgan, snow-crusted her hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes. She was pretty sure she couldn't blink now because her eyelids were frozen.
"I don't like snow!" She shouted back over the howling wind.
She moved, then sank again, making her yelp. Behind her, the column slowed. Gandalf led the way, trying to plow a path through the snow with his staff. Aragorn was right behind him, using both of his arms to try and shield Frodo and Sam as much as he could. Gimli soldiered on, keeping one hand on Aragorn's back so he knew which way to go. Tiki followed Gimli. At the very rear were Boromir, Merry, and Pippin. Boromir shivered as he looked up.
"What's the slow down for?"
"There's a ledge!" Legolas shouted back.
"No kidding," Tiki droned. She shoved her way through the snow until she stood beside Legolas' shin. She peered through the blinding storm, gazing ahead with her eyes. "Well, it looks like you can see better than me. I thought we had a little way before the turn."
Legolas shrugged. When he did, a strong gust of wind smacked the mountainside, pressing the Fellowship against the icy cliff. Morgan tugged her coat tighter around her body, tossing her hood over her head to try and shield herself from the frost. Her teeth chattered. Then, she got a bright idea. She conjured just enough fire magic to make her hands glow orange, then she stuck them into her pits.
"Ah, toasty…"
A voice hit her ears; faint, but powerful. She tilted her head, trying to figure out if it belonged to anyone in the party. She didn't recognize the words. It all sounded like gibberish to her. What wasn't gibberish though, was the massive crack that rang through the air.
"Ya hear that?"
"Against the side!" Legolas shouted.
Everyone pressed flat against the cliff as a shower of stones and snow rained down from above them. Ice pelted Morgan's hood, making her wince. The voice in the air grew louder.
"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried, alarmed.
"Who?" Morgan questioned before another crack ripped through the blinding snow. More rocks and ice crashed against the edge of the trail. This time, part of their path broke free, plummeting to the abyss below.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted over the howling wind. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"
"No!" Gandalf barked. Then, he stepped forward, stamped his staff, and returned Saruman's voice with his own, each syllable he spoke laced with strong defiance. Yet, nothing happened. Nothing visible. But, Morgan sensed magic. She could feel it vibrating around her like a warm blanket. A ward.
Saruman's voice smashed into the ward, shattering it. When it did, lightning struck the top of the mountain. Morgan gasped, reached out, and yanked Gandalf back by his gray cloak. Gandalf shouted in shock as both of them smashed into the rocks. Ice and snow crashed over them. Morgan gasped, sucking in a deep breath as the snow buried her and the fellowship.
She kept her breath held and waited. Then, as the last patters of snow atop their cocoon hit, she exhaled, conjuring fire as fast and hot as she could manage. But, someone beat her to the punch. Someone with a wicked snarl and gnashing tongue.
"I'm going to find that wizard," Tiki growled, her skin steaming, as snow melted away from her and Legolas. Morgan's eyes widened when she looked into her green eyes and saw slitted pupils. "I'm going to find him and I'm going to roast him."
"Later," Legolas calmly replied, placing a hand on her shoulder, grimacing as the heat warmed his palm.
Gimli roared as he burst from the snow. Morgan hastily moved to melt as much away from Aragorn, Boromir, and the Hobbits as she could. Finally, they broke free as well. When they were free, and all gasping for breath, she turned her attention to Gandalf. The wizard looked lost. His resolve was shaken. No doubt he had thrown up his best protection and whoever Saruman was broke through it easily.
I'd feel the same way.
"We should make for the Gap of Rohan! Pass through the Westfold then south to Gondor!" Boromir suggested.
Morgan bobbed her head. "Sensible, but Isengard is bad right?"
"Very," Aragorn nodded in agreement. "We can't go close to Isengard. The Gap is closed to us, and that path is watched."
"Better to be watched than to fall to our deaths I say."
Morgan nodded. "Makes sense."
"If we cannot go over the mountain, let us go under it!" Morgan's ears twitched as Gimli spoke. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."
She smiled. Now that was a plan she hadn't considered. A sneaky one too. She had to give the stout dwarf props, she didn't peg him as the most intelligent person in the fellowship, but going beneath the mountain would catch the enemy by complete surprise. If the enemy didn't think they would do it, then it would work well.
Unless the enemy didn't think they would do it, therefore, they reverse psychology-ed themselves into thinking that they would do it, therefore the enemy would expect it and set a watch. But, what if the enemy didn't think they would do it, therefore-
Morgan held the side of her head. "Brain, not now."
"The mines are not an option," Tiki said, warning in her voice. "Once in, we can't get out, Gimli. I sealed the Eastern Gate."
"But my Cousin Balin is there and-"
"And if he's there then he's a fool who failed to heed my words!"
"Tiki," Gandalf breathed, raising a hand to calm the irate Manakete. Morgan watched Tiki carefully. She never took the lady to be someone who easily lost her temper. Gandalf then flicked his eyes among everyone. He let out a resigned sigh when his gaze landed on Frodo. The hobbit was shivering uncontrollably from the cold. "Let the ring bearer decide."
Morgan gave the wizard a puzzled look. That's it? Let the Ring Bearer choose. I mean, true, Frodo was the most important person here, but what did he know about traveling? Logistics? Evasive maneuvers? Granted, Morgan had all of several months to work within her own noggin, but she had a gut feeling this was a bad idea. Her gut had not steered her wrong yet.
I think I might be a little hungry. Is snow nourishing?
"We go through the Mines," Frodo said.
Morgan snapped her head up. "What'd I miss?"
Gandalf wore a grave look. Tiki was shaking her head. Gimli looked relieved. How did she miss so much contemplating the nutritional quality of snow?
"Boromir, lead the way," Gandalf said.
Gladly, Boromir did, and Morgan followed him. No more snow. Her first experience, that she could remember, would be more than enough.
The Fellowship traded one sheer cliff for another. Fortunately, in Morgan's opinion, they were at the base of this cliff rather than halfway up the former. She peered up, staring with narrowed eyes at the gray clouds that suffocated the sky, searching for the peak of Caradhras. She didn't find it. A frown creased her lips, and she shrugged. It took a full day to hike back down the mountain pass, and now that they were nearing the gates of Moria, she couldn't even see where they got stuck.
I wonder if that's a good thing.
"Keep moving along, Morgan," Boromir said, tapping her shoulder as the fellowship fell into a single-file line, moving through a narrow gap in the rocks.
She nodded and did as Boromir said. On the other side, she saw a large pond filled with dark water. It was still, the surface so calm Morgan swore it was made of glass. The sun had already set. Faint starlight managed to peek through the suffocating clouds, casting hazy diamonds across the glossy surface. Morgan drew in a deep breath, crisp mountain air filling her lungs. This was much better than freezing on Caradhras.
Morgan let out a stifled gasp when she bumped into Pippin in front of her. The Hobbit almost jumped out of his skin before turning to look back at her, head tilted.
"Did you not see I stopped?"
"To be fair, I can see over you, and I'm not tall."
"You're tall for me!"
"Tall by big people's standards, Pippin," Morgan replied with a slight laugh. She shook the hobbit's shoulder, still smiling. "Sorry about that, by the way."
Pippin drew a deep breath and then gave her a small grin as well. "It's alright I suppose."
He looked ahead to the others, and Morgan followed his gaze. Gandalf, who led the way the entire trip down from Caradhras, had stopped beside a wall of flat granite. He ran a weathered hand along it, brushing some specks of dirt and moss away. He shook his head, muttered something under his breath, of which Morgan made out "moonlight", then flicked his gaze to the sky.
When he did that, the clouds over them broke. Moonlight, pale yet bright, shone over the mountains. When it touched the granite wall, symbols and lines appeared, illuminated by the moon. Morgan's mouth fell open. The craftsmanship of the etchings in the rock was exquisite, and the magic involved to create an enchantment like that; she had to get close to it!
She brushed past Pippin then Merry and managed to squeeze right behind Gandalf and Frodo. Unfortunately, the old man blocked the path to the door as he examined the markings, and Morgan did not want to get too close to Frodo. She'd rather not frighten another Hobbit out of their skin today. So, she studied the door from afar, peering at each careful stroke of what had to be an artist's pen- or rather chisel- in the rock. At the peak of the etching was an arch. Above that arch were symbols. Letters. But, Morgan could not read them.
"What's it say?" Frodo asked.
Gandalf lifted his stick and pointed at the letters like a teacher giving a lesson. "The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."
Morgan furrowed her brow. "Speak friend? Uh… hello?" She finished, unsure if that was what the words wanted her to say.
"No, no, Morgan," Gandalf said with a small, kind laugh. "It's not that simple. This is the work of Celebrimbor and Dwarven craftsmen of the Second Age. Truly awe-inspiring work that would not be so easy to pry open. We must speak the password. Then, we shall enter." And with that, Gandalf returned his attention to the door and rattled off gibberish. When they didn't budge, Morgan leaned toward him.
"Perhaps you weren't asking nicely?"
"I was asking plenty nicely," Gandalf grumbled even as Frodo stifled a small chuckle. Then, he rattled off more words in that flowing, easy-on-the-ears language she heard Legolas and Aragorn sometimes use when they wanted to chat "in private". No movement.
"Are we sure it's a door?"
Gandalf gave Morgan a withering look. That's when Boromir stepped over and wrapped an arm around Morgan's shoulders.
"Let's let him work, alright?"
"I mean, maybe I could help?" Morgan suggested as Boromir turned her away and led her towards a rock to sit on. Tiki lingered close by, staying closer to the rock wall and away from the water.
"Can you read elvish?"
Morgan whipped her eyes back to the letters. "I mean, give me a few days, and maybe? I'm plenty smart, y'know."
"I don't doubt that little one," Boromir chuckled as he sat beside her, "but it can take years, decades even, to master the Eldar's speech, and that would only be one dialect. They have several." He drew in a deep breath and relaxed, with his arms folded over his chest. "Not all problems are solvable by us. Sometimes, we must rely on the help of others."
Morgan hummed. "Awfully smart thing for you to say."
Boromir snorted. "I rely on Faramir."
"Because he's smarter than you. Smarter than most of us here, I think."
"Smarter than you?"
Morgan opened her mouth. "Well… he has the advantage of several dozen years of memories. Me, I've got enough memories to fill a single book with. Point to him." Her feet kicked aimlessly as they dangled from her seat. She blew out a sputtering, bored breath. "Just can't help but feel like we're overcomplicating this."
"The door?"
"Not just the door. This whole route thingy. I mean, there's gotta be other ways through the Misty Mountains other than this, right?"
"Yes, the Gap of Rohan."
"Including that."
Boromir's mouth thinned. "Well, there could be more secret ways, but those are not routes we should be going. Secret routes are almost always inhabited by ne'er-do-wells and nasty things looking to make mincemeat of people like us."
Morgan tilted her head. "Isn't this way a secret way? For that matter, where are the dwarves?"
"Hm?"
"You know, those friends Gimli mentioned? Shouldn't they have some sort of watch set up over the only door into the place?"
"They should," Tiki muttered behind them, causing both to twist and look at her.
She looked antsy. Anxious even. Morgan had never seen Tiki look like that before. It caused even her chipper attitude to falter. The Manakete folded her arms as she leaned against the cliff and watched Gandalf start speaking a much more gnashing language. One that caused Gimli to tap his sleeve and correct him.
"Dwarvish?" Morgan asked.
"Khudzul," Tiki replied.
"Huh?"
Tiki chuckled and shook her head. "Yes, dwarvish. But they call it Khudzul."
"Ooooh, gotcha," Morgan nodded. "So elvish didn't work."
"Sindarin and Quenya didn't," Tiki replied. Her brow furrowed deeper. "I wonder if there is a lost Elvish dialect we didn't try?"
"You could ask Legolas."
"He wouldn't know."
"Well, he's an elf so-"
Tiki laughed under her breath, cutting Morgan off. "You must question everything?" Morgan was about to argue with her when she noticed a wistful look on Tiki's face. She wasn't displeased with her. If anything, she appeared nostalgic. As if she was recalling a long-lost memory that warmed her heart.
"Do I remind you of someone?"
"Morgan," Boromir said, nudging her knee with his. "Lady Tiki is not the type for personal questions, and you shouldn't pry about such things without permission."
"Oh, right." Morgan cleared her through. "May I ask you if I remind you of someone?"
Boromir brought a hand to his face and groaned.
"It's a fair question," Morgan continued. She hopped to her feet on top of the rock, facing Tiki. "I mean, it would explain why you avoid me all the time. Like, what's the deal with that? I try chatting with ya outside of Rivendell and ya go mute there. I try talking to you over breakfast before those crow thingies-"
"Crebain," Merry chimed in as he walked past with Pippin. Both of them held smooth stones to skip along the water.
"Crowbane, yeah," Morgan reiterated. "Not much from you then either, but I at least got you to say something. So, why nothing now? What's going on?"
Tiki closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then pushed away from the wall. She rubbed her upper arm with a hand, looking uncomfortable.
"Morgan, it's… not an easy topic to discuss. I'd appreciate it if you gave me some time before trying to delve into that," she said, voice soft, gaze distant as her hands fell to her sides.
Morgan opened her mouth to ask another question but stopped when Boromir gently grasped her hand. He gave her a small shake of his head. She gave him a quizzical look.
"Just sit down for now," he whispered. "Let Lady Tiki have a moment."
"She's had several moments."
"Morgan," Boromir said, his tone sharper.
Morgan frowned, but she relented, albeit reluctantly. She flopped to a seat, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. Before she could say anything again, Boromir leaned closer to her.
"I know that look in Tiki's eyes well."
Morgan looked at him, puzzled. "What look?"
Boromir nodded at Tiki again. Morgan followed the green-haired woman as she inched toward the placid pond, arms wrapped around her torso as if she was freezing. It wasn't nearly as cold as it was up on Caradhras, so why was she acting like she was going to freeze now? A small breeze blew in from the peaks above them, causing a gentle ripple to flow through the pond. That ripple was interrupted by a stone skipping across the surface and a sound of approval from Pippin. Still, Morgan's focus remained on Tiki as the woman gazed sorrowfully over the black surface.
"That's pain," Boromir said. "Not the kind you normally think of. When I say pain, your mind probably goes to something like a cut or a bruise. You can see it. The evidence is plain as day. But, for Lady Tiki, what she feels runs deeper than any wound. The two of you, according to her, may be the last of your kind. You do not have your memories. She does."
It took a moment for Morgan's mind to catch on to what Boromir was saying, but when it did, her posture fell.
"She saw them all die?" she whispered.
Boromir nodded. "I know that feeling a little bit. That gnawing hopelessness as you watch good friends, even family, fall away. Torn away, more like. Mordor has done that to Gondor for decades now. I can't imagine what it is like to experience centuries of that loss. Even millennia. I would venture to say that the only two people here who could even fathom what Tiki might be thinking are Legolas and Gandalf, but even they have people to go back to. She does not. You are it."
"So, shouldn't she be happy?"
Boromir shrugged. "I think she might be, but in other ways, she's reminded that everything and everyone she loved is gone. Pushing her to speak about such things only reopens that wound. That is not the way to try to get her to open up to you."
Morgan slowly nodded. "I see…" She shifted in her seat. Another rock skipped across the water's surface, making more ripples. It was Pippin's turn to congratulate Merry. "How do I talk to her then? Because I can't not. I'm curious. I want to know about her, about me, about Manaketes."
Boromir pursed his lips and then let out a frustrated sound. "Ah, Faramir is better at this sort of thing."
Footsteps crunched atop the gravel beside their rock. "I would say you're doing well, Boromir," Aragorn said, his voice hushed. In his hands, he held Bill the Pony's reins. He freed the loyal steed. Good. The mines would not be a good place for him. "You are wiser than you give yourself credit for."
Boromir scoffed. "I only say what Faramir or even my father would say."
Morgan raised her brow. "Denethor is capable of not being a grump?"
Boromir chuckled. "Give my father some time, and he will warm up to you, I'm sure. As for what we were discussing, what would you suggest, Aragorn? You seem to have a bit more of a wise manner regarding these things."
Aragorn pondered Boromir's question for a moment. "Lady Tiki is very guarded about her personal life. I've known her since I was a child, and even I know precious little. Indeed, the only people who might know anything remotely intimate about her would be Gandalf, and Bilbo Baggins, as those are the two she trusts the most."
"My father," Legolas interjected as he wandered near. "When she visits Mirkwood, she and my father often speak for hours at a time. I overheard their conversation once. They were debating philosophy."
"What kind?" Boromir asked.
Legolas' lips formed a thin line. "At what point does a goal become unattainable? Tiki contended that it only became unreachable if the one seeking it deemed it so. My father stated that a goal becomes unattainable when the person becomes unable to seek it anymore"
"Those sound like the same thing," Morgan muttered.
"They're not," Aragorn replied. "Tiki's point is about personal motivation. She believes that her own internal fire can drive her toward the goal she desires regardless of the obstacles. Thranduil, meanwhile, is a bit more realistic. He thinks there can be obstacles that prevent a goal from being achieved, and that it might be foolish for someone to battle against unwinnable challenges. In a way, both are right and wrong. But, that should illuminate a little bit about her to you, Morgan."
"What's that?"
"Tiki, much like other old beings, likes talking," Boromir said with a slight laugh. His comment even made Legolas snicker. "She just likes to talk about things she enjoys talking about."
"And how do I get her to talk about that when she won't say a word to me?"
"Try history," Legolas suggested. "Not her own, but that of her homeland. Ask her for the tale of Marth. I'm sure she'd love to recall it."
Another stone splashed. Aragorn snapped his eyes up, frowned, then marched to Merry and Pippin, catching the latter by the wrist before he could toss another rock. Morgan ignored whatever words he said, choosing instead to follow Legolas' advice. She inched her way to Tiki and then stood next to her. She saw every muscle in the woman tense.
"Before you run off, can I ask you something?" She waited for a reply but heard nothing. Yet, Tiki did not leave. "So, you gonna tell me a story?"
Tiki blinked. "A-A story?"
"Yeah, a story. Legolas said you've got some good ones and I'm bored while Gandalf speaks his gibberish."
Gandalf tossed his staff to the side, grumbled, then fell to a seat, frustrated. Morgan glanced in his direction.
"It still hasn't worked. Has he tried 'please'?"
Tiki laughed. "I'm sure he has. Gandalf is many things, and polite is… well, he is polite when he chooses to be. Although, if you ask Bilbo that, he might not agree."
"There! Right there!" Morgan said, pointing a finger at Tiki. "I want that story!"
"What story?"
"How you, Gandalf, and Bilbo, met," Morgan clarified. "Or, you can say something about Marth, whoever that is. Legolas suggested that one."
"Of course he did," Tiki scoffed. "Very well, where do I even begin? Well… Marth was-"
"That's not the story I wanted."
"It's the one you're getting, little one," Tiki replied, her tone gentle but firm. "Marth was-"
"It's a riddle!" Frodo exclaimed, interrupting Tiki and making her close her eyes.
"Every time I start I'm interrupted," she grumbled before turning to look at him and Gandalf.
"What is it, Frodo?"
"The password!" Frodo pointed at the words above the door. "Speak, friend, and enter. What's the elvish word for friend?"
"Mellon," Gandalf said.
A loud crack echoed from the cliff, and a massive seam split the carved archway in two. Two slabs of massive granite swung inward, yawning wide for all to enter. Morgan felt a smug grin creep over her lips as she moved over toward the door. She stopped beside a stupefied wizard.
"It's not simple, huh?"
She expected to be berated. Instead, she saw amusement in Gandalf's old eyes. He chuckled, grasped his staff, then rose to his feet to enter the darkness ahead of them.
Morgan moved to follow, but then she froze. She sniffed. In one ear, she heard Gimli telling them to get ready for ripe meat, malt bear, and hot fires. In the other, she heard the water rushing behind her, not rippling. Did the hobbits throw a large rock?
She sniffed again, refusing to move into the darkness with the others. Tiki stopped beside her as well.
"They called this a mine!" Gimli crowed. "A mine!"
"I smell… I smell…" Morgan sniffed. Dust, old and thick. Flesh, rotten and thin. Blood, dry and dark. Her throat constricted.
"Death," Tiki breathed. "Out! All of you, out! It's not a mine!"
"It's a tomb," Boromir gasped from within.
A glow came to life atop Gandalf's staff. Within the white light, Morgan saw skeletons. Dozens of small skeletons. Dwarf bones littered the entryway to Moria. The few that still wore armor had chunks hewn from them. Several more had arrows littering their torn tabards and ribs. Gimli dropped to his knees beside one, a mournful sound erupting from his lungs as he gazed upon the crest on the skeleton's cracked helm.
"Out! Out!" Boromir cried, spinning Sam back.
Morgan sniffed again. She smelled fish.
Tiki acted first. She spun, conjured a fireball, and launched it at a tentacle that snaked toward Frodo, who was the first to backpedal out of the mines. The fire singed the thick cord of muscle and sinew, making it jerk away and causing Frodo to cry out in alarm. Before Tiki could strike again, that same tentacle smacked her away.
Morgan conjured wind and whipped the tentacle. A deep gurgling sound rumbled from the water as the tentacle zipped back to the now churning blackness. Morgan watched bubbles stir atop the pond, reminding her of a cauldron brewing with evil magic.
An image flashed in her mind. She saw a black cauldron. Inside was an inky liquid, bubbling and boiling. It smelled rancid. Dark chuckles echoed in her ears. She didn't feel afraid of those snickers. If anything, they excited her.
"So, the tactician's daughter comes to little, old, frightening me to learn forbidden magic? What for?"
"To defeat Grima and avenge my father."
Laughter. "I knew I liked you as soon as I met you. You may call me Uncle Henry. You'll meet Aunt Tharja soon enough."
"Morgan!"
Tiki slammed into Morgan, tackling her to the ground. A tentacle snapped in the air above them, grasping for her, seeking prey. Morgan followed the slimy appendage to the source. Her eyes widened as she watched an enormous beast the size of the pond squirming its way out of the water. Its eyes were black and glossy. Its mouth was small, almost like a beak. A dozen long, thick tentacles lashed out at the Fellowship, blocking their escape and cornering them against the cliffs. There was only one way to escape it.
"Into the Mines!" Gandalf bellowed.
Aragorn slashed a tentacle in two, corralled Sam and Frodo, and shoved them into the darkness. Boromir grabbed both Merry and Pippin and pushed them in. Legolas loosed an arrow, tagging the monster in one of its eyes, forcing it to falter in its advance. Gimli rushed inside after the elf. Tiki and Morgan stood against the beast, both flinging more spells at it. None seemed to do any good.
"Morgan!" Boromir wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her into the mine. Tiki scrambled to follow. Right as they passed through the open door, the monster reached up and grasped the doors. The stone cracked. The roof shook. Dust rained onto Morgan's head. She heard Boromir's rapid breathing as he sprinted with her in his arms.
Then the entryway caved in. All of the moonlight was snuffed out in the span of a second. Morgan's breathing quickened as darkness swallowed her. She clung to Boromir, fingers digging into his tunic like claws as her pulse quickened. Another memory shot through her mind like lightning.
"Daddy, I'm scared."
"What for?"
"The dark. There are monsters there."
"There's no reason to fear. Daddy will take care of those monsters."
"But what if you're not there to do that."
"Then Mommy will take care of them."
"And if both of you aren't there?"
"... that's not going to happen, Morgan."
She breathed hard, shaking in Boromir's grasp. A staff stamped the floor, making her yelp. Soft white light hit her sensitive eyes, making her blink. Boromir winced as he set her down. That's when she saw that she had torn holes into his tunic. She looked down at her fingers. Her nails had grown to claws.
"B-Boromir- I-"
A hand touched her shoulder. It was Tiki. That one touch, that one look of understanding, did more to calm her racing heart than anything. She gasped, shuddering as she tried to catch her breath. Boromir knelt in front of her, placing his hands against her arms.
"It's alright," he said before reaching up and pulling a lock of black hair from her forehead. "You didn't hurt me. That's what chainmail is for, little one."
"We now have but one choice," Gandalf announced. "We must brave the long, dark, of Moria. We must also find a way out. Be on your guard. There are far older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."
Morgan gulped as Gandalf's like flickered. He was moving. She rushed to keep up. Boromir and Tiki stayed by her side. Her eyes refused to adjust to the blackness around her.
"It's alright, Morgan."
"No, it's not," she whispered to Boromir.
"Why not?"
Morgan swallowed hard. That memory was visceral. She didn't see images. The images were blotted out by inky blackness. She only heard voices. But she knew it involved someplace dark. Someplace without even a hint of candlelight. That memory was the birth of a fear. One she had a feeling she hadn't grown out of.
"I'm scared of the dark."
And chapter! And so we enter Moria, against the advise of Tiki and Gandalf, and now it is even more perilous. We're coming up on something rather fun soon, and I'm excited to share it with you all. In the meantime, let me know what you think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it. Have a nice day!
