There aren't enough words to convey how sorry I am for leaving this so long, so I won't waste your time trying.
However, I do hope people still read this and will be kind enough to review.. enjoy, friends.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but anything you don't recognise from the books or movies.
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"This road may lead to Moria, but how can we hope that it will lead through Moria?" Aragorn asked, grim and ominous.
"It is a name of ill omen," Boromir said, "I do not see the need to go there."
"The Gap of Rohan is closed to us while we go with the Ring Bearer," Gandalf told them. "As for the longer road: we cannot afford the time. Therefore I advise that we should go neither over the mountains, nor round them, but under them. That is a road at any rate that the Enemy will least expect us to take." His words were spoken with confidence, but Maethoriel knew that he was reluctant to travel the road they had no choice to follow.
"We do not know what he expects," Boromir countered.
"I can only see two options," Maethoriel spoke up. "Either we follow the road to Moria and see whatever we shall see, or we return to Rivendell, having failed our quest already. No one is required to see it done, of course, but surely to admit defeat now would be worse than dying to protect your world?"
"I will tread the path of Moria with you, Gandalf," Gimli announced proudly. "I will go and look on the halls of Durin, whatever may wait there – if you can find the doors that are shut."
"Good, Gimli," Gandalf nodded. "You encourage me. We will seek the hidden doors together. And we will come through. I sought there long for Thráin son of Thrór after he was lost. I passed through, and I came out again alive."
"As did I," Aragorn said quietly. "But though I came out again, the memory is very evil. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time."
"And I don't wish to enter it even once," Pippin cut in, though he was sitting out of the circle that had gathered as a council.
"Nor me," muttered Sam.
"Of course not," Gandalf said understandingly. "Who would? But the question is: who will follow me if I lead you there?"
"I will," Gimli piped up immediately.
"I will," Aragorn said heavily. "I will follow your lead now, if this last warning does not move you. It is not of the Ring, nor of us that I am thinking now, but of you, Gandalf. And I say to you: if you pass the doors of Moria," he paused, fixing the wizard with an intense look, "Beware."
"I will not go," Boromir insisted. "Not unless the vote of the whole company is against me. What do Legolas and the little folk say?"
"I do not wish to go to Moria," Legolas said.
"I do not wish to go," Frodo agreed, "But neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. I beg that there should be no vote, until we have slept on it."
The company fell silent, gazes dropping to the ground under them. It had taken some time to get down off the mountain again, and when they finally left the snow behind them, Boromir insisted on resting before heading off. Eventually, people began to voice doubts and concerns in regards to travelling the mines, and a council had been struck up of its own accord to debate the issue, despite Frodo having made a decision. It seemed pointless to Maethoriel. Yes, Moria was most likely a dark, dangerous, and unforgiving place, but the Gap of Rohan and Caradhras were obviously not worth thinking about, and they could hardly return to Rivendell after travelling such a short distance, in comparison to how far they had yet to go. If they admitted defeat now, it would not be the worst they would face: Rivendell would soon be overpowered by Mordor and Isengard forces alike, and they would all perish.
"Let the company sleep while they can, with the wind howling," Maethoriel said, looking around at them all. "But, as I see it, morning will only bring one solution to this issue. It may not be a pleasant journey, but we would not be the Fellowship of the Ring if our quest was anything but trying."
Suddenly Aragorn frowned. "How the wind howls," he murmured. Then he quickly stood, his hand hastening to the grip of his sword. "It is howling with wolf-voices! Wargs have come west of the Mountains!"
"Need we wait until morning, then?" Gandalf asked.
"How far is Moria?" Boromir questioned.
"There was a door south-west of Caradhras, some fifteen miles as the crow flies."
"Then let us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if we can."
The Fellowship gathered their belongings and trudged to the top of the small hill under which they had been sheltering. Sam was permitted to light a fire, since nothing would hide them from the keen senses of the wolves hunting them.
"I wish I had taken Elrond's advice," Maethoriel heard Pippin murmur behind her. "I am no good after all. These howls freeze my blood. I don't ever remember feeling so wretched."
"My heart's right down in my toes, Mr Pippin," Sam replied. "But we aren't etten yet, and there are some stout folk here with us. Whatever may be in store for old Gandalf, I'll wager it isn't a wolf's belly."
"Sam's right, Pippin," Maethoriel said, smiling kindly at the two. "You will be safe as long as you are with us. Besides, I think you're more dangerous to your enemies than you know."
Pippin smiled proudly at that, puffing his chest up. "You're right. They wouldn't stand a chance."
Grinning, Maethoriel turned back to the spot she had assumed as hers in the middle of a ring of broken stones. The others settled down around her, ensuring none were too far from the rest of the company. Outside the ring of stones, the hill was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, which silhouetted harshly against the sunset. All around them, the howls grew closer and then further away again, sometimes seeming miles away, sometimes seeming in the trees around them. Watchful eyes peered at them through the trunks, and thick, furry shapes moved silently along the ground.
Soon enough, darkness descended, and the danger seemed closer than ever. Only Maethoriel, Gandalf, Legolas, and Aragorn sat up, alert and on edge, while the others dozed uneasily. None of them spoke, for fear of covering the noise of an approaching enemy. Aragorn sat with his sword unsheathed and across his legs, Gandalf stood, leaning on his powerful staff, Maethoriel stood next to him, twirling her tomahawk in her hand, and Legolas kneeled by Aragorn, bow armed and ready. All four of them watched as a particularly clear outline of a wolf neared the edge of the trees, watching them silently.
Then it tilted its head back and let out a deafening howl, as if calling for its pack. Gandalf took a stride forwards. "I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring," he threatened.
The wolf snarled, and Maethoriel shifted her body into a fighting stance, watching it calculatingly as it leant back on its hind legs before springing towards them with a great leap. Just as she lifted her arm to hack at it, there was a sharp twang and a hideous yell, and the wolf fell to the ground, an elvish arrow embedded in its throat. The eyes hidden in the trees before them dissipated into the darkness and bothered them no longer.
Maethoriel sheathed her tomahawk and looked behind her at the dozing company, glad that none of them had awoken. Then she looked back to the wolf, frowning.
"Maethoriel?" Aragorn asked, curious.
"We should move the wolf into the trees," she told them. "The hobbits would be most distressed, waking up to this scene, I think."
She and Aragorn each lifted a side of the dead beast, carrying it out of the clearing while Legolas moved silently beside them, on watch in case its brethren returned. When they dropped it to the ground again, she examined the fatal wound Legolas dealt it. "Well aimed," she told him as they began to walk back. Aragorn walked on ahead of them.
"Fearful that I will beat you in our competition?" he asked, serious in face and voice, but playful in the eyes that were slowly growing brighter again.
"Not at all," she replied, smiling slightly. He mirrored her expression, holding her gaze until they got back to the camp.
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As soon as the sky began to brighten, the company packed up their belongings and set out once more. Gimli was so eager to reach Moria that he forsook his usual place near the tail of the group in favour of walking alongside Gandalf at the very front, his chest puffed up with pride and his gruff voice telling tales of the wonder and magnificence to be found in the mines. Merry and Pippin seemed to be the only ones allowing themselves to feel hopeful that perhaps it was not going to be as miserable as everyone was making it out to be; the rest were as far from cheery as possible. Each step they took seemed heavier as they went, trudging endlessly until Gandalf finally found what he was searching for.
While Gimli bounded on ahead of the others, Gandalf suddenly slowed, calling out to Frodo. "Come and help an old man," he said, resting an arm around the hobbit's back. "How's your shoulder?"
"Better than it was," Frodo replied.
"And the ring?" the wizard asked quietly, sinisterly, as the company continued to walk past them. The rest of their conversation was too quiet even for the elves, but as the two of them passed, they heard Frodo's hopeless question.
"Who then do I trust?"
Maethoriel frowned, knowing that Gandalf shared the same fear that she and Aragorn had discussed on their climb of Caradhras. Her heart went out to Frodo, for his burden was weighing heavier day by day, and now he had to be careful of those with the intent to protect him as well. She could not have imagined how isolated he must have been feeling.
Suddenly Gimli sucked in a loud breath. "The Walls of Moria," he observed, in pure awe, pointing ahead of them.
The Walls were all stone, with no sign of a door anywhere, coloured a grey that was even darker in the shadows cast by the clouds that blocked the rising sun. A dark lake stretched out before them, with a narrow path following its edge towards the Walls. All around them loomed shadows, darkness, and a sense of misery, and Maethoriel felt as if she had just been cornered into a deadly situation, yet she followed after the company and plunged further into the darkness, having no other choice.
There was only room for them to walk in single file alongside the lake; Gandalf lead with Gimli close on his heels, while Aragorn, Maethoriel and Legolas took up the rear. "I sense nothing but evil," the blonde elf murmured, loud enough for the other two to hear.
"The prosperous age of Moria has long passed," Aragorn replied, "I fear whatever fate awaits us in these mines."
"As do I, but we have no other choice. You cannot achieve victory without enduring sacrifice, no matter how difficult and hurtful it is," Maethoriel said grimly. "Perhaps our fates were decided before all life began, perhaps we make our own – it is futile wondering. Take comfort in the knowledge that all is happening for the good of the future of your world."
"Some people believe that the stars write our fates," Aragorn told her.
A minute smile broke through her stony countenance then. "Yes, and if that brings them comfort then I will not inform them otherwise; however, we are just as oblivious as every other species."
"I prefer to think we make our own fates," Legolas mused. "To think we are governed by a higher being's fancy, as if we are merely names in a story... it seems degrading, like we are not sentient, emotional creatures."
Before anyone could reply, the company halted, peering over each other's shoulders to see that Gandalf had stopped to run his hand over a particular space of the wall. Running his fingers in patterns, he cleared dust from the design of the door, murmuring to himself. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight." One by one, the company turned to look at Maethoriel. "Come," Gandalf beckoned her.
She frowned. "I am no star – you know this." Persistent, he beckoned her again, and she begrudgingly began to make her way towards him, squeezing past the rest of the company to stand before the doorway. Gandalf stood back, eyes wide in anticipation, observing the dim glow of her skin in the darkness and waiting for it to trigger something in the doorway. Maethoriel was clueless; taking a step forward, she brought her palm up to press against the cold stone, willing it to open.
Nothing happened, and she felt strangely embarrassed.
"My apologies, Mithrandir, but I did warn you," she muttered, retreating.
Almost as soon as she had taken a step back, the pattern of the doorway lit up as though it had worked, but she could feel the light of the moon on her back, and when she turned, she saw that the clouds previously covering it had simply been blown to the side. The initial excitement of the company seemed to lessen when they came to the same realisation as her.
"It reads, 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter,'" Gandalf informed them, using his staff as a reference point to trace the symbols arching above the doorway.
"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.
"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." Pressing his staff to a point on the stone, Gandalf began to chant loudly: "Annon Edhellen, edro hi amen!"
The company waited quietly, but there was no sign of Gandalf's words to have worked. Gimli grunted, presumably realising the difficulty they would have. Uselessly, Gandalf pushed and shoved against the stone.
"We could be here for some time," Maethoriel murmured, glancing at her companions before sitting herself upon a rock. The rest followed suit, seemingly needing a brief respite anyhow. The emberling had her back to the Walls of Moria, preferring to glimpse the stars shining down on them between the clouds. She wondered if her father knew or remembered how to open the door, if he was restless and impatient and frustrated with not being able to help. She believed that, with all his wisdom, Gandalf would be able to figure the password out; however, she did have her doubts, she had to admit. Gandalf was old and had been entrusted with many a secret password – certainly, his mind was still brilliant, but she still wondered if wizards deteriorated with age as much as the next species.
Noticing movement to her right, Maethoriel witnessed Aragorn making a start to removing everything from Bill's back, while Sam stroked his nose sadly. "The mines are no place for a pony," the ranger told the hobbit, "Even one so brave as Bill."
"Buh-bye, Bill," Sam said quietly, sniffing. Maethoriel's heart broke for the poor hobbit, knowing how fond he was of his faithful pony.
When he looked like nothing but a wild beast, Aragorn encouraged Bill to turn away. "Go on, Bill. Go on. Don't worry, Sam, he knows the way home."
Suddenly the peace was startled by a large splash, snapping attention towards Merry and Pippin who were tossing stones into the darkness of the lake. Before Pippin could launch one as far as he could, Aragorn caught his arm. "Do not disturb the water."
"Oh, it's useless," Gandalf huffed, dropping his staff to sit next to Frodo.
Boromir stood and approached Aragorn's side, watching the ripples in the water warily.
"It's a riddle," Frodo said.
The ripples became more powerful and closer to the shore.
"'Speak friend and enter.' What's the Elvish word for friend?"
"Mellon," Gandalf said slowly.
Instantly, the archway split in half and the doors opened out towards them, revealing nothing but a great darkness. Gandalf chuckled, obviously impressed, and started into the Mines. The rest of the company followed suit eagerly, all too happy to put the mysterious lake behind them.
As they passed through the doors, Maethoriel suddenly felt a chill, looking at the odd shapes in the darkness with wariness. Gimli seemed oblivious to the atmosphere, instead boasting, "Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone!" As Gandalf blew at the top of his staff, igniting a white light, Gimli continued, "This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a Mine. A Mine!"
With the light of Gandalf's staff as well as what little light Maethoriel's skin emitted, the strange shapes became clear. The emberling's hand went straight to her tomahawk. "This is no mine," Boromir uttered, "It's a tomb." The skeletons of Gimli's kin littered the floor, cobwebs joining the bones and the arrows lodged within them.
Gimli's horrified cries echoed tragically, "Oh, no. No!"
Legolas knelt and pulled out an arrow, inspecting the head. "Goblins!" he hissed, immediately standing and arming himself as Aragorn, Boromir and Maethoriel did the same.
"We make for the gap of Rohan," Boromir said firmly, "We should never have come here." The hobbits huddled, terrified, tripping over limbs and armour and weaponry, backing up towards the doors. "Now, get out of here. Get out!"
Too busy watching the darkness in front of them, the four warriors did not realise the hobbit's danger until his comrades started yelling. "Frodo!"
"Help!"
"Strider!" Sam shouted, snapping the shock out of them and making the ranger bound forwards, the others close at his heels.
"Get off him!" Sam yelled, hacking at a tentacle with his dagger. Before Aragorn could even reach them, the tentacle was cut and it quickly retreated into the water again, relieving Frodo of its hold.
Maethoriel stood next to Aragorn, watching the water with dread. Surely that would not be it: one half-hearted attempt at the hobbit's life? Before they could blink, several more tentacles shot out and slammed into them, knocking them backwards. One wrapped itself around Frodo's ankle and pulled him up into the air screaming. The emberling sheathed her weapons, resorting to her bow as Legolas helped her up and began the attack. Boromir and Aragorn charged into the water and hacked at the tentacles thrashing closest to them.
Maethoriel's heart was in her throat, but her aim was steady and true, launching arrow after arrow into the tentacles closest to Frodo, being careful not to hit him by accident. Suddenly his screams intensified, reacting to the monstrous bulk of a head emerging from the depths of the lake. With one look at Legolas, the two of them focused their attack on the main body of the creature, hoping to strike something important enough to distract its attention from the hobbit.
Thankfully, Aragorn had sliced his way close enough to cut off the tentacle that was holding Frodo above the creature's grotesque mouth, causing it to drop the hobbit directly into Boromir's arms.
"Into the mines!" Gandalf bellowed, shepherding the other hobbits in first.
"Legolas! Maethoriel!" Boromir yelled at them, struggling in front of Aragorn to wade quickly through the water while tentacle after clawed-tentacle jabbed around and in between them.
"Into the cave!" Aragorn shouted. The elf launched one last arrow, hitting the beast in its eye and forcing it to retreat underwater momentarily, groaning in pain. The respite lasted only a second, however, as the two men reached the shore and it began to crawl out of the water towards them all, thrashing its tentacles furiously. "Run!" Aragorn shouted at them, and they turned their backs and bolted into the mines once more.
The beast brought down the doors and wall behind them, the debris spilling in towards their feet, and they were engulfed in pure darkness, listening to the echoes of their staggered breathing. "We now have but one choice," Gandalf's grim voice sounded, just as his staff reignited, illuminating the ground around him, "We must face the long dark of Moria." Straightening themselves, the company fell into line behind him as he moved off. "Be on your guard," he said, passing Legolas and Maethoriel. "There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." Following the wizard, they began to climb a flight of stairs, their minds still reeling from the sudden start and end of the attack just seconds before. "Quietly now. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."