A/N: Thank you reviewers! Your support is inspiring :)

I am trying my hardest not to directly re-write scenes, however in some instances I think I will find that they cannot be passed over. Those that cannot, I will try to keep new and exciting for you, but I think Serafina's perspective will do most of the work for me! If the fighting is too graphic or not graphic enough let me know. My only goal is (relative) realism - obviously I have never been in a battle. As I have always said - feedback is welcome!

Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I got distracted by Mr. S. Bean in a certain TV show.

Enjoy!

And Review!

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Chapter Twenty-seven

Serafina woke to darkness. If possible Moria seemed even darker in this supposed morning than it had the night before. Her dreams, which were slipping away from her as consciousness took hold, left imprints in her vision from the vividness of their colour.

They set off with little fuss, walking single file through the blackness. Occasionally Gandalf would point out the more impressive features of the mines, risking more light from his staff. These moments made the thief anxious and she began wishing for her daggers. The knowledge that she was practically unarmed made her uneasy. The one tiny knife she had left was a last resort and would not make much of a dent in whatever it was that had purged Moria of life.

She glanced up from the dark stone to the figure in front of her. Legolas walked with his head held high, his own weapons proudly displayed on his person. She did not know if she could steal from him without his feeling it, and indeed his weapons were too large for her to take and conceal. She also had no clue how to wield them. Giving up on him, she glanced behind her quickly - Aragorn strode on, looking behind them into the darkness. He would certainly catch her if she tried anything.

Aragorn hardly missed anything at all that happened within the company. He might not have quite the perception of Gandalf but he certainly saw too much. Her mind wandered back to the previous evening. Aragorn had been so quick to come to her rescue when Sam had accused her of having read a great number of stories and simply being unwilling to share. She was certain he had seen her blush, though she was also certain he had misunderstood its cause.

Abruptly an idea came to her. She smiled in the darkness - knowing it would work, but for it to work she needed to trust him. She searched herself and found that trust of Aragorn came quickly, but much depended on timing and execution.

The thrill of adrenaline pumped through her as she worked through the plan in her mind. She knew precisely where each of his weapons hung on his belt, his short knife was her prize and it rested towards the front of his right hip. Cautiously she tested her right hand. It was stiff and painful to move, but it was not unbearable. She had used it without thinking on numerous occasions now and though Aragorn admonished her for it and frowned at her as he painstakingly re-did the healing he'd done previously, she knew it would not fail her when she needed it.

Carefully she slowed her pace, he would need to be close to her for her plan to work. She turned her head to the right slightly, feigning interest in the surroundings - in truth her eyes, which she had always considered to be quick and sharp, were inadequate in such company and in such a dark environment. The only member of the fellowship whose eyesight seemed poorer than hers was the dwarf, and that did not console her. It was true she did not know if Boromir's senses were superior to her own but she tried to not pay attention to him in that way - she knew she would be mortified if it turned out that he too could see further and hear clearer.

Pushing away such trivial thoughts she saw the Ranger out of the corner of her eye. Quickly she assessed the distance between them - he seemed to be close enough. She sent up a quick prayer, something she had not done in a while, and five words ran through her head 'let him be quick enough'.

Suddenly, Serafina was falling forwards and sideways. She flailed her arms wildly, grabbing desperately for something solid, but it was no use. Her feet fell over and over one another, balance had left her. She let out a shriek of panic as she tumbled closer to the edge of the narrow walkway, blackness lay below her eyes.

"Fia!" Aragorn cried. A quick smile bypassed her mouth and went straight to her eyes as familiar strong hands wrapped themselves around her waist. Serafina kept her breathing sharp and erratic but her mind was focused. As if by reaction she let her hands fly behind her to grab hold of her rescuer. Her accuracy pleased her. The small knife lay directly under her right hand. She kept hold of him with her right hand, and her left hand grabbed onto his arm around her waist and gripped it tightly in relief. He pulled her backwards away from the shear drop, his own breath heaving against her neck. She waited patiently.

Safely away from the edge Aragorn spun her around to face him. Her hand clutched the handle of the knife and it came silently with her. He searched her face, his eyes brimming with concern turning to relief. She let him look at her for an instant, momentarily absorbed by his eyes. But the task was not complete. Serafina bowed her head and let it rest on his chest, she was surprised by the mix of feelings racing through her; the familiar sense of success danced through her body, the knife was in her possession, and she was at least slightly better armed than before. But other feelings she had not expected also flooded through her and threatened to rattle her calm; relief she decided, was one of them. The rest of it was a curious mix of wariness and excitement. She shook her head, unaware that she did it against the man's chest - she still had the knife to hide before Aragorn saw her with it. Angry with herself for letting feelings distract her she slipped the knife in close against her wrist, then brought her arms up to her chest, ensuring to take deep, calming breaths. She hoped he would think she was taking a moment to compose herself. She could feel his heart beating strongly against her forehead and swallowed, she was becoming very aware of just how close to him she was. His scent began to fill her senses. Hastily she tried, again, to focus and slipped the knife down her shirt font. The thief hoped the small size of the knife, coupled with the loose fitting shirt would guarantee its concealment.

She had not hidden it a moment too soon - Aragorn's hand swept up under her chin and lifted her face up to meet his. She could do nothing but submit to his thorough inspection of her face. Something in his face frightened her, but she could not look away. After a moment the urging in her mind to run tempered and another urge began to take hold. She was scared by its force, and of how of how little she wanted to resist. With a start, she remembered that he thought he just saved her life and she opened her mouth to speak. At first nothing came out, she gritted her teeth but pretended it was an effect of her close encounter with the edge. She licked her lips and held his gaze firm, fighting the urge to shy away from his intensity.

"Thank you" was all she managed.

"You should be more careful," he said the torment in his voice was unbearable, "You rarely trip or stumble - this is not a place to let your mind wander, Serafina."

She nodded numbly and looked down, afraid to see what else was in his eyes.

"You alright lass?" came Gimli's voice through the darkness.

She nodded again, Aragorn let her go and answered in her stead, "Yes, she's alright. We should continue."

Serafina began to trudge on after the elf who shot her a look of pity. She worked very hard at trying to bring back the feeling of achievement from attaining her prize, but it eluded her. All that remain was trepidation that grew proportionally larger to the wild thrill that ran recklessly through her body. Soon the monotonous black of Moria pushed Serafina's escapade out of the fellowships' attention and when their attention was drawn by the wizard she hastily remove the knife from her front and slipped it down her high-laced boot.

Eventually Boromir broke the silence of the company's passage. He walked with the Wizard at the front of the group, yet through the still air his voice carried clearly behind him. "Gandalf, yesterday you asked me about the bulrushes of the Anduin near Minas Tirith…"

"Yes, so I did," Gandalf mumbled in reply, "I was reminded a few days ago about a trivial thing, from many years ago." His voice, though softly spoken and gruff was as discernible to Serafina as if he had been standing next to her. She listened with a frown as the Wizard continued, "My memory was triggered, incidentally, when our Serafina mentioned to me the method in which she came into the care of the man Garth. She said he found her in the bulrushes - her parents having abandoned her to the river," Boromir scoffed, but Gandalf kept talking, "My point however, is that after one particular visit to Minas Tirith I found a small boat of dried reeds hidden in the bulrushes, completely empty. Curious, no?"

"The Anduin is a long river, which many beings have access to - that something should be found on it's banks is certainly no curiosity," Boromir answered, but a tone in his voice belied his nonchalance.

Abruptly the file of travellers halted. Serafina heard Gandalf mumble that he was unable to recall this place from his memory - suddenly his previous conversation with Boromir held less weight over her.

They stopped and started in this manner throughout the day, Gandalf taking time to jog his memory, or to somehow sense the right direction. Conversations began to crop up among the fellowship as they travelled. Serafina remained silent, neither listening to nor interested in their discussions. Her mind wandered to the banks of the Anduin. She had never seen it before - not in waking memory at least. She believed what Garth had told her, that he found her in the bulrushes. He'd taken too much pride in telling her the sad tale of how she was unwanted by her parents for it to not be the truth. Why he'd taken her in, she couldn't guess. Certainly he'd been happy when he realised her skill as a thief, he trained her and she was an excellent student - naturally gifted at sneaking about. However the older she had grown, the more unsteady their relationship had become, until they resembled acquaintances with a deep dislike for one another.

She stayed in this semi-present state through many a wonder of Moria, a part of her appreciated the sheer scale of the mines and the accomplishment of the architecture. But only half of her mind walked the path through the mines, the other half wandered the streets of her childhood where Garth taught her thieving and told her stories to put her to sleep. Olin, she tried to forget.

A noise brought her crashing back into the present. She whirled around and was surprised to find herself in a small room filled with light like she hadn't seen in days. She was standing in a wide circle with the rest of the company around a tomb of sorts. Every face that her eyes searched was either worried, scared or grim. Thundering footsteps sounded through the passages they had walked in silence over the past few days. Her eyes widened. Automatically she drew Aragorn's knife from her boot, all around her the members of the fellowship were also readying their weapons. Frodo and Gandalf's swords glowed with an eerie blue light. Someone yelled "Orcs", and she was ushered towards the Wizard along with the Hobbits. Grey eyes swam in front of her. Aragorn regarded her with a mix of concern and disapproval.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded nodding at her left hand.

Serafina raised her eyebrows, was he really going to lecture her about theft when they were about to fight for their lives? "From your belt" she hissed in answer. Aragorn ripped it from her hand and thrust it into it's sheath. Serafina was outraged, "You would prefer me to fight without a weapon? What chance do you think I would have with my bare hands?"

"What do you think I am?" he asked her, his face probing. Swiftly he pulled the short sword Boromir had given her from his pack and handed it to her. He turned from her without another word and continued with preparations for the fight.

Serafina stood trembling next to the Hobbits but she did not look for an escape. Yes, she had survived the Wargs, twice. But that had been by luck. She certainly hoped these Orcs were not as big as the Wargs but she knew they would be armed. Movement caught her eye. She spun to face it but it was only Boromir, bouncing on his toes and swinging his blade in anticipation. She saw Gimli swaying his weight from side to side, Gandalf and Aragorn were also keeping their bodies moving. She followed their lead and bounced her weight from foot to foot, but she did not swing her blade like Boromir, it was not a dagger and she was not used to its length. Legolas alone stood perfectly still, but she knew he was ready. She had seen enough of Elves to know that he did not have to keep his body limber to spring into action on command.

The doors shuddered. Serafina looked at her sword and took comfort in having it in her hand. The Hobbits stood slightly behind her, Gandalf in front of them all. Suddenly the twang of Legolas' bow drew her attention. The first Orc had made it through, though he died instantly. Before a minute had passed the chaos of battle reigned.

Serafina ducked and weaved out of the grip of the Orcs. Three times she dropped her sword but by some luck she was able to pick it up before losing her head. Soon, Serafina realised the Orcs were not intelligent but this was little advantage to her as she knew nothing of battle. Eventually the Orcs began to make it past Gandalf's protection. Frantically she swung her sword at one, and missed. The creature smiled at her and licked its lips, it raised its twisted long knife, but Serafina held off the blow. Her wrist trembled - her left arm was not as strong as she needed it to be. He struck again, this time she only deflected it by the merest slice of luck. All around her the sounds of slicing and hacking met her ears. Her stomach revolved - no she had not had a sheltered life but stabbings in the dark were a far cry from mass killing. Her face pulled itself into a grim expression and she focused her mind on the thing in front of her. Stealing herself, she made the next advance, forcing the Orc to defend himself. He fought off her blows easily but as each blow fell onto him quicker and quicker his defences began to lag. With a cry of effort, Serafina plunged her sword into its belly while his sword arm was lifted high in the air from deflecting her previous blow aimed at his head. She tried to pull her sword out, but to her disgust it didn't slide out like it did when the others removed their swords from an enemy. Instead the Orc came crashing into her, her sword still embedding in its stomach. She began to panic, what if she had to fight without a weapon after all? Desperately she lifted her leg and put her foot against the dying creature. Both hands on her sword she yanked hard. Blood spurted out as her sword came free, covering her arms. The Orc fell instantly to the floor.

She spun desperately to see how the others faired and a horrid sight met her eyes. A massive beast lumbered around the small room, at least three times as tall as Aragorn and heavier than any creature she'd seen. He swung his enormous club recklessly around the room, splattering its captors heedlessly as it attempted to strike the travellers. Hastily she put as much distance between herself and the troll as possible. Orc after Orc appeared, she fought them off as best she could and ducked out of their weapons' reach. She saw one of them raise its arms over someone else in what looked to be a fatal blow. She yelled and thrust her sword through its back, it let out a scream that was lost in the noise of metal clashing against metal and flesh being ripped from flesh and slumped to the ground. Serafina grabbed her sword again with two hands and pulled it from the creatures back. A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her down to the ground. She landed on top of another dead Orc. Black blood covered her. She looked up to see a heavy swing of a spiked club pass through where she had been standing. A dull thud met her ears, then another. She rolled over and got onto her feat. The Hobbit Sam stood over the Orc with the spiked club, a thick fry pan in hand and a short, bloodied knife in another. He looked at his weapons in bewilderment and then at the Thief. She nodded at him in thanks and together they turned, back to back, a temporary allegiance formed for the battle.

The Hobbit and Serafina fought together when threatened, but inevitably they became separated. Soon she found herself backed into a corner, but the Orcs were becoming fewer though the troll was still wreaking havoc about the room. She watched panting from the corner with her heart in her throat and her stomach churning as her companions fought for their lives. Her eyes scanned the floor. Bodies and parts of bodies littered the ground so that minimal amounts of stone were visible under the carnage. Everything was black, grey or red. A mournful noise brought her gaze up to the beast. It was swaying, weapons and arrows sticking out from its stony flesh. It fell slowly. Serafina resisted the urge to cover her ears as she heard the dead bodies of the Orcs squash beneath it as it crashed onto the floor. She didn't want the fellowship to see her being squeamish.

Hastily she searched the faces of those still standing. Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Merry and Pippin all stood facing three figures on the ground. Sam and Aragorn were knelt beside Frodo, who began to cough and splutter. The amazement on the fellowships' faces informed Serafina that they had thought him dead. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, slowly realising what a terrible burden Frodo's death would place on the remaining eight of the fellowship. If he died would his task, whatever it was, fall then to one of the others? Was that why there were four Hobbits? In case one died, then another? She frowned as she regarded Frodo. What fate would he bring upon the Lands?

Suddenly the Hobbit opened his shirt and revealed a vest of shining metal rings. The company began to talk, relief filling their voices. She continued to frown at Frodo. Slowly she became aware that the others were looking at her. She scowled at them and lowered her eyes, which fell on her arms. They were black with the blood of the Orcs. Her nose crinkled as the smell began to register. She wiped her sword on her blood-stained clothing, and hoped they would think she was only frowning for wonder at the beauty of the chain mail.

More drums sounded. Serafina's eyes widened, "There are more of them?" she cried in disbelief.

Boromir laughed and looked at her, "There are always more Orcs, Serafina - you will learn this."

Serafina looked around at the rest of the party, a few of them smiled weakly. Gandalf walked over to Frodo and heaved him to his feat, saying something that sounded like an instruction. The fellowship began to move quickly through the broken door and into the mines. Serafina stood speechless where she'd been standing, alone in the desecrated room. Aragorn appeared back in the doorway.

"Serafina - we must hurry," he said to her, motioning to follow.

She could only look at him. She knew her fear betrayed her, she knew that he could see it in her face.

"Serafina, now! Or you will be slaughtered like an animal!"

The cold truth in his voice touched her. Her eyes widened - what was she doing? She met his eyes; the urgency in his face pressed her, "Now!" he yelled.

She didn't need telling again. Serafina checked her sword was in her belt and ran towards the doorway. Aragorn took her left wrist in his hand and ran pulling her along behind him. She tripped over her feet, unable to keep up with his long strides. But he dragged her on, not letting her go until they reached the rest of the party, fleeing through the darkness.