Gandalf's voice echoed through the dark, cavernous chamber as he spoke. "We have but one path left to us; we must brave the long, treacherous halls of Moria. Be on your guard, for there are older and fouler things than orcs that lurk in the deep places of this world." As he spoke, Gandalf lit his staff with a fierce glow, casting flickering shadows on the damp stone walls.
The group stood huddled together, their faces illuminated by the soft light of the wizard's staff. Half of them were drenched from wading through the underground river, while the other half remained dry, but equally shaken. Kitra leaned against a nearby wall, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath and calm her nerves. Her body ached from being tossed around in the raging waters, and she could feel her cracked ribs protesting with every breath. Despite the pain, she knew they had to keep moving.
"Hang on," Aragorn called out to Gandalf, breaking the tense silence. "Kitra's injured." The wizard halted in his tracks and turned back to face them, his piercing gaze fixed on Kitra. She couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed at being singled out once again for her injuries. But she also felt guilty for slowing down the group.
"Let me see your head," Aragorn said gently, stepping closer to Kitra. She reluctantly
The crimson stain on the back of her head was growing larger by the second, but she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. She gave him a defiant look when he tried to protest, but he could see the fear in her eyes. He couldn't let her bleed out before they even left the treacherous mines.
"Turn around and let me see." His voice was firm as he demanded, and she reluctantly complied. The throbbing pain in the back of her head intensified as he tilted her head down and his fingers gently brushed against her hair. A wave of relief washed over her when she realized it wasn't any higher - if it had been, they would have lost one of their own. She winced as something cold and sticky was pressed onto the wound, burning on contact. She couldn't help but hiss at him, resisting the urge to lash out in pain.
"Hey, be gentle!" She complained.
"Quiet now," he chided softly. "It's just some Athelas." He continued to apply pressure with one hand while reaching for something else with the other. Bandages were useless in this situation, so he simply held her head still until the bleeding stopped. "There." The relief in his voice was palpable as he removed his hand from her head.
"Thank you," she said sheepishly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He gave her a small nod and a gentle peck on the forehead before walking over to check on Frodo, leaving her feeling both grateful and flustered.
As she took a step forward, pain shot through her side and she winced, immediately cradling her ribs. Alana noticed and came to stand beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Boromir stood nearby.
"I think my ribs are cracked," she explained, trying to brush off the injury as if it were just a minor annoyance. "There's nothing we can do about it until we reach Lothlorien."
Alana nodded understandingly before letting go of her shoulder. Gandalf spoke up then, reminding them of the four-day journey ahead and the need for caution. She stayed closer to the back of the group, walking alongside Aragorn. Each step was a struggle, and any slight stumble caused sharp pains to shoot through her body. But she gritted her teeth and pushed on, determined not to slow down the rest of the fellowship.
Walking through the mines was uncomfortable and eerie. The dim light cast shadows all around them, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. She kept close to Aragorn, finding comfort in his presence as they moved deeper into the
Of all the injuries one could sustain, breaking ribs was by far the worst in her opinion. The sharp pain radiating from her chest with every breath reminded her of this fact. Unlike toes or fingers, where there wasn't much to do but wrap and rest, broken ribs required constant effort and care. Yet at the moment, she couldn't do either.
As they trekked through the dark, winding caverns, Gandalf regaled the fellowship with tales of Moria's wealth and Bilbo's legendary chainmail that he had been gifted. Despite her discomfort, she was captivated by his words and allowed them to distract her from her physical agony.
But when they came upon a steep staircase, it felt like scaling a mountain for this injured adventurer. Each reach and pull sent jolts of pain through her body, causing her to grit her teeth and try to ignore it. She couldn't help but shake her head at herself and laugh. After surviving a house fire that left half of her body burned, here she was struggling with broken ribs.
Determined not to let the pain defeat her, she took a deep breath and pushed it to the back of her mind. She pretended that she didn't have ribs and that there was no pain. Slowly but surely, the pain receded into the depths of her mind and she was able to continue on without its constant presence nagging at her
The group had reached the top of the stairs, and as Gandalf whispered in awe about his lack of memory of the place, Aragorn pulled her up and over the ledge. She exhaled heavily and found a spot off to the left to sit, her feet dangling over the edge of the larger ledge they were now resting on. As Aragorn made his way to check on the hobbits, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of him becoming a father someday.
She could hear the crackling of a small fire behind her and when she turned, she saw that Aragorn had started it to keep the hobbits warm, especially Frodo who was still damp. "You choose solitude over the warmth of the fire?" A voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked over her shoulder to see Boromir standing behind her with a curious expression. She rolled her eyes and kept her gaze forward.
"At the moment, yes," she replied curtly. He sat down beside her, making her resist the urge to scoot away from him. The closeness of their bodies only intensified her discomfort.
"I wanted to apologize for my actions and words up on the mountain." He said.
Kitra turned to face Boromir, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She hadn't expected an apology from him, especially not now in the depths of Moria. The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes.
"I spoke out of turn and let my frustration get the better of me," he continued, his voice low and earnest. "It was unfair to question your abilities or place in the fellowship."
Kitra studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge his intentions. She had clashed with Boromir before, finding his arrogance and mistrust of outsiders grating. But perhaps there was more to him than she had initially thought.
"Thank you for the apology," she said finally, her tone guarded but not unkind. "I know this journey has been difficult for all of us."
Gandalf's sudden exclamation startled them both, bringing an abrupt end to their conversation. Boromir sprang to his feet, ready to follow the wizard's lead. But before he could go, he turned back to help her up. His hand reached out and she grasped it, allowing him to pull her effortlessly to her feet. However, as she stumbled towards him, his grip tightened and she found herself pressed against his broad chest.
The unexpected closeness made her stomach churn with discomfort, and she quickly stepped back, muttering a hasty thank you before hurrying off to join the others. She took her place next to Aragorn, feeling grateful for the comforting presence of her friend amidst this strange company. He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head, not wanting to discuss the awkward moment with Boromir.
As they ventured deeper into the cavern, Gandalf's voice echoed off the walls. "Let me risk a little more light," he muttered from the front of the group. Suddenly, the narrow corridor opened up into a vast chamber illuminated by the flickering glow of torches. Massive pillars rose high into the ceiling, their intricate designs catching her eye. The dwarves were truly skilled craftsmen.
"Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf," Gandalf declared, his voice reverberating through the cavern. Kitra's gaze shifted to Aragorn, curious to see his reaction to this grand sight. His eyes widened slightly and his mouth fell open in awe. She couldn't help but smile at his wonder.
"There's an eye-opener and no mistake," Sam commented, taking in the impressive surroundings.
The sudden cry of Gimli jolted her out of her thoughts and she nearly jumped out of her skin. One moment, there was silence in the dark chamber, and the next, the dwarf was crying out and fleeing towards the far end of the room.
"Gimli!" Gandalf's voice rang out, a mix of concern and urgency. They all bolted after the retreating figure, their feet pounding against the cold stone floor. When they caught up to him, they found Gimli kneeling before a tomb, his shoulders shaking with sobs. As they approached, he lifted his head to reveal tear-stained cheeks and eyes filled with sorrow. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as Gandalf began to read the inscription.
"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," Gandalf's voice was heavy with grief as he removed his hat and held it over his heart. "He is dead then." His gaze shifted to the skeleton lying beside the tomb, and he handed his hat and staff to Pippin before kneeling down to inspect what he had discovered. With a delicate touch, he retrieved a book from the bony hands of the deceased and pages fluttered to the ground, covered in a thick layer of dust.
Legolas' voice was urgent as he spoke to Aragorn. His elven eyes scanned the surroundings with keen focus, taking in every detail. Alana stood beside them, her stance tense and ready for action.
"We must move on, we cannot linger," Legolas said, his gaze meeting Alana's before she nodded in agreement.
"They have taken the Bridge and the second hall," Gandalf read. "We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums. Drums in the deep." Kitra couldn't help but glance nervously at the door behind her, feeling as though they were being watched from the shadows. Her hand instinctively moved to her sword, ready to defend herself if necessary.
Aragorn's expression hardened as he listened to Gandalf's words, his mind racing with a plan. "A shadow moves in the dark," Gandalf continued to read, his voice low and serious. "We cannot get out. They are coming." The tension in the air was palpable as they braced themselves for what could come next.
Kitra's heart lurches as she looks back just in time to see Pippin reaching out to touch the arrow that was protruding from the skeleton perched on the edge of a deep, dark well. In a split second, the skeleton's head topples off and falls into the abyss with a faint echo of clanging metal. The rest of the empty body follows suit, tumbling down after its decapitated head. Kitra knows there's no turning back now; they're about to be plunged into a battle for survival.
Gandalf whirls around, his eyes burning with anger as he fixes them on the young halfling. Pippin wears a grimace of regret on his face and Kitra can't help but feel sorry for him. But there's no time for pity as Gandalf unleashes his wrath.
"Fool of a Took! Next time, throw yourself in and rid us of your stupidity!" Gandalf's voice echoes through the mine as he slams his book shut. He snatches his hat and staff away from Pippin, ready for action.
As if on cue, the sound of drums begins to reverberate through the tunnels, growing louder and faster with each passing moment. Kitra can feel her temples throbbing as she places a hand against her forehead, bracing herself for what's to come.
With trembling hands, she drew her cloak tighter around her, bracing herself for what was to come. The air was thick with tension and fear, and she could feel the prickling sensation of danger all around. "Here we go," she muttered to herself, steeling her nerves.
"Frodo!" Sam's voice broke through the chaos as he pointed to Frodo's sword, which was now glowing a bright blue. The sound of orc cries filled the air, bouncing off the rocky walls of the cave. Aragorn looked at her with a grave expression and took a step closer.
"Orcs!" Legolas' words were sharp and urgent. With quick reflexes, Boromir rushed to the door, Alana hot on his heels. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and peered outside to assess the situation. She watched as Alana pulled him back just in time, narrowly avoiding two arrows that embedded themselves in the door.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Alana scolded as they hurriedly barred the doors shut again. The adrenaline pumping through their veins was almost tangible, and she knew that every move they made could be their last in this fierce battle against evil forces.
Aragorn's voice was urgent and commanding as he ushered the Hobbits back towards Gandalf. Fear and determination etched his face as he reached out to pull her closer to them. "Stay close to Gandalf. You are not in the best shape to fight right now." She didn't argue with him, knowing her body was still recovering from its injuries. A sense of frustration and helplessness swirled within her as she watched the battle unfold.
Boromir's words sent a chill down her spine. They were facing a cave troll - a formidable foe that seemed impossible to defeat. As the men quickly barricaded the door, Alana came over to check on her.
"Are you going to be alright?" Her cousin's concern was evident in her voice.
"I don't have any other options, Alana." She replied, trying to push aside her fear and focus on the task at hand. Drawing their swords, she could see the hobbits trembling with fear. She wanted to offer them some words of reassurance, but she knew they needed to stay on edge in order to survive this battle. The rush of adrenaline coursing through their bodies was their only chance at victory.
Gimli's voice echoed through the ancient halls of Moria, filled with determination and defiance. He stood atop Balin's tomb, his stout figure silhouetted against the dim light filtering in from outside.
The deafening sound of orc drums and shouts reverberated through the chamber as they relentlessly pounded on the door, trying to break through. Aragorn and Legolas stood on either side, their bows drawn and ready. Their eyes darted back and forth, scanning for any weak spots in the door. Suddenly, Legolas let out a swift shot as soon as a small crack appeared, causing an orc's anguished scream to pierce through the noise. Aragorn joined in, aiming at the same spot and slowly but surely widening the hole.
As the orcs continued to push through, Gandalf turned to face her and gave a brief nod before charging into battle. She didn't hesitate, gripping her sword tightly as she followed suit. With each swing of her weapon, she felt the strain of her injuries from their previous battles intensify. But she pushed through it, determined to protect her companions.
One by one, she took down several orcs with precise strikes until she suddenly heard a chilling roar that sent shivers down her spine. The cries of a cave troll. Its massive form towered over them, its grotesque features contorted into a snarl as it swung its enormous club towards them.
The hideous beast burst through the doorway, its ragged breaths echoing off the stone walls. A broken chain hung loosely around its thick neck, a symbol of its former captivity. Legolas quickly notched an arrow and let it fly, piercing the creature's chest and eliciting an angry roar in response. It turned to face them, its attention drawn to Sam, who stood frozen in fear. With a mighty swing of its club, the troll prepared to strike.
But Sam was quick and agile, diving between the creature's legs and causing it to stumble. As it turned to follow him, she lunged forward with her dagger and stabbed it in the foot. In pain and confusion, the troll roared and lifted its club once again, this time aiming for her.
But just as it was about to strike, Aragorn's voice rang out: "Pull!" She turned to see that he and Boromir had grabbed onto the chain around the beast's neck and were pulling it backwards. The troll stumbled and swung around to face them instead. Aragorn released the chain and rushed over to her aid, helping her up from the ground and swiftly dispatching an approaching orc.
Her eyes frantically searched for Boromir, who had been flung through the air by the troll earlier. In his dazed state, he didn't notice the orc sneaking up behind him with a raised sword. But before it could strike, a dagger flew past her head with precision aim, taking down the enemy. Alana stood behind her, having thrown the blade without stopping her own fight.
With her sword in hand, she fought her way through the chaos of the battle. The hobbits were holding their own for the most part - Merry and Pippin fighting back-to-back with impressive coordination, while Sam had resorted to using a frying pan alongside his sword. But her main concern was Frodo, who seemed to be mostly dodging the attacks of the orcs rather than fighting back.
As she made her way towards Frodo, a group of five or six orcs suddenly lunged at her from all directions. She swung her sword with fierce determination, taking down the first orc with ease. But then two more attacked simultaneously - one swinging its sword towards her head while the other aimed for her legs. She managed to block the first strike and dodge the second, but a fourth orc caught her off guard and nicked her arm with its blade. Annoyed, she quickly dispatched it before turning her attention to the remaining orcs.
The fifth and sixth orcs fell swiftly under her expert swordsmanship, giving her enough time to see that Frodo was in danger. A massive cave troll had cornered him and was now advancing towards him, forcing him backwards towards the edge of the room. Despite his attempts to stay out of sight, the troll had spotted Frodo and grabbed him, dragging him down from the second level of the room to the first with a loud thud.
The name "Frodo!" rang out in unison from both her and Aragorn's lips, their voices echoing through the chaos of battle. They fought their way towards him, each determined to protect their friend at all costs. Aragorn, with spear in hand, reached Frodo first and positioned himself between the hobbit and the towering troll. He thrust the weapon into the beast's chest, causing it to roar in pain. But in its fury, the troll flung Aragorn aside like a rag doll, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.
Feeling a surge of adrenaline and determination, she pushed herself harder, ignoring the searing pain in her chest. She knew what she was about to do was reckless and potentially deadly, but she couldn't stand by and watch her friends suffer. As the troll turned its attention back to Frodo, she saw its massive arms swing back and then forward with alarming speed. Without hesitation, she stepped in front of Frodo, bracing for impact.
A blinding white hot pain exploded through her body as the troll's sharp blade sliced through her side with incredible force. The impact left her breathless and disoriented, but she could feel the weight of its blade just barely grazing against Frodo's clothes. She could only pray that it hadn't harmed him as well as it had
The shrill sound of Alana's scream pierced through the air, cutting through the chaos and fear. Kitra's own cry was stifled as she saw the troll's twisted gaze fixed upon her, the blade in its hand twisting maliciously.
Her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to her knees, staring up at the towering beast. It snorted in her face before turning its attention back to her comrades, ready to continue the battle. Gasping for breath, Kitra collapsed onto Frodo who caught her with surprising strength. She could feel warm blood seeping from her wound, each shallow pant causing a wave of pain to wash over her.
"Frodo," she managed to gasp out, "we need to act fast. I have to stop the bleeding." He nodded, his eyes wide with worry and determination. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Kitra propped herself against a nearby wall with Frodo's help. "In my pack," she instructed him, "grab as many bandages as you can find." Frodo scrambled to do as she asked, quickly retrieving a handful of cloth strips.
With shaking hands, Kitra balled up a large section of cloth and pressed it against her wound. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and yanked the spear out with a strangled cry. Blood gushed from the wound and she slumped against Frodo, feeling dizzy and weak from the loss of blood. But they had no time to rest - the fighting resumed around them and they had to keep moving if they wanted to survive.
The sharp sting of pain caused her to curse through gritted teeth. She pressed the balled bandage into the gaping hole in her side, willing herself not to cry out. Frodo's hands were trembling as he helped her lean forward, his eyes wide with fear and concern. With shaky hands, he helped her shove a second ball of bandages into the back of the wound before he began wrapping the strips of cloth around her torso, trying to staunch the bleeding.
"Kitra. By the heavens, what were you thinking?" Aragorn's deep voice was filled with worry and disapproval as he knelt beside her. Taking over for Frodo, he deftly finished wrapping the bandages and lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "You mustn't leave us just yet, Kit." She nodded in agreement, unable to speak as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
With a gentle touch, Aragorn placed a tender kiss on her lips before helping her to stand. The metallic tang of blood and the pungent scent of sweat hung heavily in the air as they moved away from the chaotic scene, their own injuries throbbing with each step. Determined to find safety and heal Kitra's wounds, they pushed forward.
The rest of the group was starting to gather after defeating the monstrous troll. She leaned heavily on Aragorn, her side throbbing with intense pain. Gandalf walked over to her and gave her a stern look, his piercing blue eyes filled with concern.
"That was both a brave and foolish thing for you to do, child," Gandalf scolded gently.
"Well, someone had to keep him alive. I'll be fine as long as we can reach Lothlorien quickly," she replied, blinking hard as sweat dripped into her eye.
"I aim to please." She grunted as Aragorn helped her to her feet.
"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm we go," Gandalf declared with determination in his voice.