.
It took but a few days of travel with Breguril to push Legolas to the conclusion that Arda was long overdue for the Fourth Kinslaying. Sinda on Noldo, this time. The proud, haughty, arrogant, petty, vulgar elleth exhausted all his reserves of patience and tolerance.
He had known her by way of ear, naturally. As things were standing today, he and Breguril were the only unwed Princes of the Elves in Middle Earth. With too much time on their hands elves had the tendency to gossip and come up with marital matches. Hence the two of them had been "set up" in such idle talk since the time he had been conceived. His parents however, when he had brought this issue to their attention, had told him not to worry about it. Indeed, his mother had covered her mouth and giggled and said that the "one eligible princess" was absolutely "ineligible". At that time he thought it could had been due to her "scar-faced maiden" moniker, the Elves wishing to see physical perfection in their Royalty. So he had even pitied her for her misfortunes during the 1st Age in Beleriand.
All he had known about Breguril – the face marring scars apart – was she was older than him and of curiously undefined background. Breguril was "of the house of Finwe", with no patronymic, nor any other hint at her parentage. The only known facts about Breguril were that she was a Noldo, one of the Exiles, and of noble birth – according to the geezers she had been treated with deference by Thingol and Fingolfin alike. If those two – High Kings of their respective Kindreds – saw her as a Princess, then a princess she must be, or so Common Wisdom held.
The question of her secret parentage had always been subject to low level speculation as to possible reasons of this fact. Three days out of Imladris Legolas knew – her parents were ashamed of her and disowned her. Sam had made bacon with beans for dinner and – amidst the resulting flatulence – Breguril had outfarted and outbelched Gimli. To her equally loudly expressed merriment and satisfaction! Her laughter was as loud as a donkey braying, not at all ladylike!
He had to admit, grudgingly, that her fieldcraft was as good as his. And as a warrior she might be even better. A pity she was not an ellon* ...
.
.
While the Fellowship was settling themselves for rest by a heap of stones which evidently was a ruin of some construction of old Gandalf had looked towards the two elves, asking if the senses of the First Born to them anything of import or use. Eregion had been the site of the Kingdom of Hollin* of old, after all.
Legolas had shaken his head and said:
- The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago.
At this point the unusually pensive Breguril half-spoke, half-whispered:
- Those that lived here were of my kindred ... Noldor proud and haughty ... After the horrors of Beleriand in the First Age they sought to pursue their craft in peace. And for a time they found it here. But having the orcs and other foul creatures return, under the Thrice Cursed Servant of the Unnamed One broke the spirits of many. And indeed many sought the havens immediately ... The spirit of others was broken when their loved ones fell to battle or slaughter.
She had a faraway look in her eyes.
- We need not set watch. The stones tell me that no foul creatures are near, just wild beasts. We can safely make a fire and rest around it.
.
.
Breguril and Legolas returned from their foray in which they checked the surroundings of the Western Gate of Moria for any immediate dangers. They were greeted by the sight of Gandalf in front of the gate, lifting up his arms to speak in tones of command and with rising wrath.
- Edro, edro! he cried, and struck the rock with his staff.
Open, open! he shouted, and followed it with the same command in every language that had ever been spoken in the West of Middleearth. Then he threw his staff on the ground, and sat down in silence.
While Gandalf struggled fruitlessly to open the door, Breguril put her fists on her hips and watched the show. Her initially typically bland elven expression began to broaden in to a smile. Then she chuckled. Then – a sight to behold in those Last Days – her behaviour could only described as a "point and laugh" routine worthy of some street urchin.
The wizard who initially ignored her merriment in his struggle now finally snarled.
- What does the elf-maid find so uplifting in our predicament?
Breguril walked up to the gate, passing Gandalf, and patted the wall. Not looking at the wizard she asked:
- Had it even come to you, Mithrandir, to ask me about the password? Or, being merely an elleth and not famed for wisdom like the lady Galadriel, have you ruled me out of hand as a source of any knowledge?
She thumbed her nose at him.
- I may not be counted amongst the Wise of the Eldar, but I'm more than capable of counting beyond 28*, you know. And, as I've said on this trek, it was my people who lived in Hollin. I've passed through Khazad Dum more times than I count, travelling between Harlindon* and Lothlorien.
She heard Gimli gasp.
The elleth looked down on him and sneered.
- Although the Naugrim* had always been greedy little gits – an indignant harrumph came from about four feet above the ground - there had been no quarrel but only respect between the Noldor and the Longbeards. Quarrel and bloodshed over the greed of both sides – doubtlessly enhanced by the Jewel of the Crazed One, additionally polluted by contact with the Great Enemy – there had been between the Doriathrim* and the Broadbeams and Firebeards* of Ered Luin. It was an age later, after the Seven had been given out to the Dwarrow, that their gold-lust made them addled brained – another harrumph - and suspect everybody of plotting to steal their gold. But before the making of the Seven - and even for some time afterwards - the Dwarrow – the Folk of Durin in particular, and the elves – especially the Noldor – got along just fine.
With a sigh Breguril drew her hand over the gate.
- In times long gone I've walked from Ost-in-Edhil to Caras Galadhon* armed with naught but a butterknife– she said with sadness in her voice.
- Mellon, she uttered finally, looking with superiority and a smirk at the still sitting and still fuming Wizard while the West Door opened.
.
.
While Boromir and Aragorn tried to shore up the door to the chamber Breguril quickly went over the weapons strewn across the Tomb. She picked up a mace and the shield in best condition for herself, plus some throwing weapons for the others. She tried to give Sam a glaive to use as a spear to keep the foes away but he declined, so she gave it to Merry instead.
Once the door gave way under the force of the cave troll she raised her arm and screamed elven war-shouts at the orcs. To the surprise of the Hobbits she glowed with an internal light the like of which they had seen in Glorfindel. This radiance confused the orcs, making them misstep and falter, giving Legolas time to bring down half a dozen foes with his arrows, and Aragorn and Boromir to cast picked up halberds as improvised spears. But after the moment of confusion had passed the orcs, whose culled number were still many, were upon them.
Breguril's choice of mace was immediately explained – she towered almost two feet over most orcs and in the press of combat in an enclosed space she bashed their skulls – regardless of helm or no helm on their heads - faster than she could had gored and cleaved them with a sword. Within moments she was splattered with brain matter.
.
.
- 'Ai! ai!' wailed Legolas. 'A Balrog! A Balrog is come!'
Gimli stared with wide eyes.
- 'Durin's Bane!' he cried, and letting his axe fall he covered his face.
- 'A Balrog,' muttered Gandalf. - 'Now I understand.' He faltered and leaned heavily on his staff.
- 'What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'
Breguril instinctively reached for her neck and rubbed the scar there. Her slate eyes were fixed upon the approaching fiery horror, an enemy she had least seen two Ages past. She put aside the mace – its use expended - and drew her sword, forged in Ost-in-Edhil*.
The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled and poured over the stone gangways. Then Boromir raised his horn and blew. Loud the challenge rang and bellowed, like the shout of many throats under the cavernous roof. For a moment the orcs quailed and the fiery shadow halted. Then the echoes died as suddenly as a flame blown out by a dark wind, and the enemy advanced again.
- 'Over the bridge!' cried Gandalf, recalling his strength.
- 'Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly!'
Aragorn and Boromir did not heed the command, but still held their ground, side by side, behind Gandalf at the far end of the bridge.
The elf-maid, however, was involved in a staring contest with the Istar, eyeball to eyeball, two stubborn ancient beings, both tense as a drawn bowstring. Finally the elleth let her shoulders sag, muttered something and turned towards the rest of the Fellowship, sheathing her sword. Passing the two scions of Numenor she grabbed them by the arms and dragged towards the doorway.
- He's buying us time, fools! Let's not waste his sacrifice! RUN! – at the end her voice rose to a roar, treasonously revealing her emotions.
- RUN! – she repeated, slapping Merry on the butt, speeding him on his way in the direction of the door.
AN:
Like I promised, only the differences versus cannon are given. Some text is lifted from the book, so if you recognise something then it's not mine :)
You see any mistakes or something you strongly disagree with – put in a review/PM
Lexicon:
Ellon – good ol' boy in Sindarin
Eregrion or Hollin was a Noldor Realm, ruled by Celebrimbor. It was the place where the Rings of Power were made. Destroyed over 4000 years before the War of the Ring.
Doriathrim – the inhabitants of Doriath, the Sindar Kingdom ruled by Thingol and Melian.
Harlindon –part of the Kingdom of Lindon of elves to the west of the Shire. During the War of the Ring ruled by Cirdan.
Twenty eight – this number held mythical importance for the First Born, with those capable of counting beyond it being ranked amongst the Wise. The origin of this belief is unknown.
Naug, Naugrim – stunty, stunties - elfish for dwarf/dwarrow.
Broadbeams and Firebeards – dwarrow clans, like Longbeards; there were seven in total.
Ost-in-Edhil – main city of Hollin.
Caras Galadhon – main city of Lothlorien.