Post by Aikári Salmarinian on Mar 18, 2022 14:06:31 GMT
31. Dark and light.
While I was gone, the Fellowship entered a discussion what to do. It was lively and well, but I didn’t enter it when I got back. I listened only as far was needed and kept an eye on my surroundings, never letting slip my watchfulness for dangers. They spoke about going to Moria or not. When Boromir put forth what I would say and the little fellow Gimli, I gave answer.
“I don’t wish to go to Moria,” I said.
I had nothing to search in the bowels of the earth, where a balrog lived. The decision to go where was postponed on suggestion of the ring-bearer. But as that moment we had evil wolves on us. I fled to a rockpoint where I could shoot perfectly with my bow, while the others used swords and knives to engage those wolves. My last arrow was consumed in fire, where Mithandir had set the trees ablaze. The curiousness about my arrows was that I found them all back undamaged, except for that single one. I assembled them and put them back in my quiver. These wolves were strange and must have been some creature of darkness that dissolved when dying. I could not explain it otherwise. It was very unsettling. How could creatures that deadly, yet vanish into nothing? What lay ahead of us if the group chose to go through Moria? But there was no more discussion safe for what Mithrandir said.
“We must reach the doors before sunset or I fear we shall not reach them at all. It is not far, but our path may be winding, for here Aragorn cannot guide us; he has seldom walked in this country, and only once have I been under the west wall of Moria, and that was long ago. There it lies,” spoke Mithrandir.
He pointed into the south eastwards direction to where the mountain sides ended almost upon a grey wall on the other side of us. Gimli was spirited to go there and walked together with Mithrandir. I came right behind the dwarf, there that felt better than between all those shortlegged Periannath. As last came Aragorn and Boromir. The stone around was red in this area and for some time there was only that in a lifeless landscape, until we reached the leftovers of what had once a might waterstream, the Sirannon. I remembered a part of the song.
“Sirannon, your waters quick
Sirannon, your waters fast
Cleave through rock and stone
Make your way your own.”
I said nothing further. Just let the words roll through my mind and pictured a scene from other times. Not that I had ever been here, but such were the images the stones around talked about. Where the dwarves of Moria lived, the elves took the mountain pass to cross along Caradhras. The road led over stairs to a water that was dammed complete. It filled the whole valley and the water looked dark and eerie. Gimli led us with me directly behind him and the others following over other stairs, another at the northern end of the lake toward a point where two trees stood. But there was nothing to see.
“Well, here we are at last! Here the elvenway from Hollin ended. Holly was the token of the people of that land, and they planted it here to mark the end of their domain; for the west-door was made chiefly for their use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different kind, even between dwarves and elves,” spoke Mithrandir.
But his words had an effect on both me and Gimli and were not appreciated.
“It was not the fault of the dwarves that the friendship waned,” brought Gimli forth.
“I have not heard that it was the fault of the elves,” I replied.
Mithrandir looked displeased at us.
“I have heard both, and I will not give judgement now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends, and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!” he said rather grave.
But all the more that was to me not to listen. Night or not, that didn’t bother me. The light in my eyes read the same in Gimli’s. We decided ourselves either we would like each other or not. Such we were as people of the northeast Rhovanion. We wouldn’t let us be told what to do. We got a scene with Samwise when Mithrandir told him that the pony could not come on the journey through Moria. Aragorn and Boromir assisted in getting the baggage from the pony’s back and sort out what had to be taken and what could be left behind. Samwise was angry and what he lifted off he threw on the ground. Neither Gimli or I did help and we rather had more interest in the hidden doors, or so I pretended. Instead I searched my spot under one of the trees and remained there, watching the surroundings in the dark. When the moon broke through, the doors appeared.
“There are the emblems of Durin!” called Gimli in awe.
“And there is the tree of the high elves,” I said indentifying what I saw.
The elvish on the bow I read easily, but I didn’t say. The words were written in Sindarin: "Ennyn Durin Aran Moria. Pedo Mellon a Minno. Im Narvi hain echant. Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin." Or translated: "The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs." The word for friend was Mellon, even in Leikvian. The answer was literally on the door. Celebrimbor was an elf of the Noldor I knew, one of the greatest smiths in Middle Earth. In Imladris I had overheard other elves discussing this character from memory. He had been a part of the Gwaith-I-Mirdain, in the Second Age. A place where a guest of my father, Quennar Tarcelmë, had been part off as well. Eregion had been a thriving land until it was destroyed in war against the forces of Sauron. Boromir and Pippin were the voices of doubt and unbelieve. I knew Aragorn spoke and read Sindarin also, but perhaps he could not read the script above the door. I broke cover from under the tree, when Mithrandir remembered the word for friend and the doors opened. Either Gimli and I were the first to walk through them. The dwarf was thrilled, but I found it not sensible to enter the complex alone.
Falling back on the elvenpower which was natural to me I closed out the darkness I sensed in this world. It was very heavy and I remembered the words once said to me by our head librarian.
‘That darkness is like a thick cloud, where your senses are dulled in, you see nothing, your hearing feels if you’re partly deaf and what you smell may feel you sick and nauseated in the stomach,’ she had told me.
And that was exactly what I felt so strong here. Besides in this darkness was even troubling to my eyesight. From my bag I got a simple circlet with a starlight stone in it and pressed that around my head, so its soft light shone clear ahead for me. I pulled the hood of the cape over my blond hair. I received odd gazes from Boromir and Aragorn.
“We call this a Mine,” spoke Gimli merrily, his attention elsewhere.
But in the dark I had seen already other signs on the ground. There were weapons and parts of armour, but no bodies.
“This is not a mine, this is a tomb. We should never have come here. We must make it for the gab of Rohan. Now get out of there!” called Boromir.
“Into the Mines!” ordered Mithrandir loud.
The others came into the mountain on the rushing words of Mithrandir and then some hideous creature shut the doors. When the doors were closed and all were plunged in the darkness, I heard the muffled sounds of an avalanche. The doors were blocked.
“Well, well! The passage is blocked behind us now and there is only one way out, on the other side of the mountains. I fear from the sounds that boulders have been piled up, and the trees uprooted and thrown across the gate. I am sorry; for the trees were beautiful, and had stood so long,” spoke Mithrandir on a dry tone. “We now have but one choice; we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world.”
So I was there now underground which I had not wanted. I held my bow in hand and had pressed it against my chest. Gimli was summoned to walk with Mithrandir, so I followed close up. The others came behind us. The way underground was about forty miles to Nanduhirion on the other side. Three or four marches it was for the short legs of the Periannath. I could cover that in two days or perhaps even one, depending on how fast I went. But I didn’t feel much for being quick now. On top of the twohundred steps of stairs we rested for a while, since entering this dark hell. For the third time the Fellowship received the cordial Mithrandir had gotten from Elrond. I had my own, so I refused. It was night, but nobody felt for sleep. The four Periannath sat together seeking comfort with each other, Boromir and Aragorn sat together talking to each other and Gimli joined them. Mithrandir sat on the lookout watching downwards the stairs as well the narrow passageways in the other direction. I stood with my back against the wall, watching the road ahead, for I was more worried about that part than what the stairs we just climbed. The way after the stairs circled and snaked through great caverns, over narrow stone bridges and through unused mines. Choices were hard to make for Mithrandir even he consulted Gimli. But the dwarf had never lived here and didn’t know at times. It became a travel I would always remember, because I would never return here. We came along shafts where chairs hung from chains as testimonies where once dwarves had carved gold and mithril from the stones.
“The wealth of Moria is not in gold, or jewels, but mithril,” told Mithrandir. “Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him.”
“That was a kingly gift!” said Gimli close to me.
“Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire!” grinned Mithrandir.
I stood a little closer to the border and looked over where the mithril silver was revealed by light from Mithrandir’s staff. So this was the place where my hauberk also came from. In this silent tomb, as Boromir had marked it earlier it was hard to imagine mining dwarves. How long had it been? Then the answer came to me: since 1980 when the balrog had been awakened; more than a thousand years ago.
“What do you think, master elf?” asked Gimli me sudden.
“It’s impressive,” I admitted.
“Soon master elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer and red meat off the bone,” said Gimli softly. “This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin and they call it a Mine.”
It was strange to be called a friend by him, but was it spontaneous, or just a mistake of speech? I said nothing, not knowing what to say. I stepped away from the shaft and followed Mithrandir. The mine let over other bridges and stairs we climbed. This was what an abandoned city was, cold and empty which got frozen in living flesh and bones. We came to a point where three corridors split into three directions, straight, down and up. There was a guard room also. Mithrandir decided to stop here and allow everyone to catch up with the sleep they had missed. Pippin had the brilliant idea to drop something in the former well and thus betrayed our presence here. The stone echoed in the depths, which was soon alarming answered by faint sounds of what Gimli indentified as hammers. Just as Mithrandir I remained awake and alert during the six hours that passed. Sometimes I thought of Merelin and the joyful hours we had spent before my leave from Aradhrynd. I never sat down and remained ready to fight, if necessary. I missed the stars greatly, but I had the captured starlight in the stone on my forehead. While Mithrandir’s smoke circled up, I dreamt of my father and grandmother and the beauty of Aradhrynd. Hours later Mithrandir woke the rest and chose the right corridor, where the stairs went up. It was a long climb, seemingly endless; it grew broader and went up. The stairs had gone over in a road. We paused twice. We ended finally in a very great hall, where once the dwarves had lived. Mithrandir offered us again a look on the magnificence of the stone pillars that supported the roof.
“Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf,” spoke Mithrandir.
We spent the night in the great hall. Mithrandir slept now too, as the others, though there was on the two hours a watch. I remained awake nonetheless, and didn’t even dream. But in what the early morning hours could be, I felt something sneaking up to me and faster than the eye could follow I pinned with my left arm the owner against the wall by the throat and pointed the knife in my right hand against the underside of the chin. It was Boromir.
“Don’t ever sneak up behind me again, or it’s your death. It’ll be my pleasure,” I hissed angry between my teeth on a soft sharp tone.
Aragorn and Mithrandir awoke shocked. Boromir tried to get loose, but I was too strong for him. My gaze bore into his eyes and soul, where I read the slow work of how the ring influenced him. I let him loose and with fear in his eyes he rubbled his throat where I had pressed him against the wall.
“What kind of creature are you that never sleeps?” growled Boromir at me.
“Boromir!” called Aragorn shocked.
I gave Boromir a hateful and loathing glare. I put the knife in the sheath of my back and ran off into the northern direction, where the sunlight peaked through the roof and left bundles on the floor. Out of sight of everyone I leaned against the wall and pressed my eyes closed against the knowledge that I really could have killed him. It was self-defense, but still. It was Gimli who came up behind me.
“Are you alright?” he asked concerned, holding the walking axe in hand.
Slowly I nodded and looked at him. I nodded thankful.
The Periannath, Aragorn, Mithrandir and as last Boromir came walking to us. What had changed a little between Gimli and me I didn’t know, but he took a stance between me and Boromir.
“Is he alright, Gimli?” informed Mithrandir.
“Legolas is, Gandalf,” nodded Gimli.
We came out on a square room where we found a tomb, and an end came to the riddle what happened to the colony of Balin. He was dead. Gimli pulled the cap of his cloak over his head and knelt before the tomb. I could feel a darkness that not only emanated from the ring, but also drew all evil creatures to it.
“We must move on, we cannot linger,” I said to Aragorn and in general.
We remained there for a small time, while Mithrandir read a book he found, and that revealed that the colony had been overrun by orcs. On the moment we wanted to leave sounded drums and horns of the sort I knew those were from orcs. I had wanted to leave immediately, but the others had stayed. Grim I waited on what would happen, while the other debated which ways to go. Gimli jumped on the tomb.
“Agh! Let them come! There's one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath,” breathed Gimli angry.
“They have a cavetroll,” called Boromir.
He and Aragorn closed the half broken doors. But that was not much defense. A fight broke out. Three orcs I shot dead and the rest I cut down with my knives. Aragorn and Boromir got the major part in a short time. The troll was harder to handle, but a shot of mine through the mouth ended his life and he slumped down on the ground at my feet. We had it soon under control and Mithrandir let the others toward the hall back. I grabbed Gimli and pulled him from the tomb he wanted not to leave. Lots of stairs followed that descended in the dark. While the others could not see, I had not this problem. The light from the stone on my forehead gave me sight on the path ahead. Mithrandir rejoined us, where he had enchanted a door somewhere upstairs, but the news he had met an equal was unsettling. I knew it was the balrog on the other end as the cold temperature was rising. The stairs were risky, as were no sides and if you fell off you plunged to your death in the depths. We came in a new hall. Orcs came up behind us and we came into a rain of arrows, where an arrow shot through Mithrandir’s hood, Frodo was hit, but the arrow didn’t harm him. One missed Pippin on a hair and I had also one against my chest that fell undamaged on the floor. We came on the bridge that spanned an endless dark gap. I turned around with an arrow on my bow and stared unto the fieriest darkness I had ever seen, the balrog.
“Ai! Ai! A balrog! A balrog has come!” I called.
“Durin’s bane!” shouted Gimli.
“A balrog. Now I understand. What an evil fortune! And I am already weary,” muttered Mithrandir, leaning on his staff.
On his command we fled over the bridge. Mithrandir remained in the middle of the bridge and the way he blocked the balrog, I knew he was not going to win this.
“You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass,” spoke Mithrandir loud.
Before us he broke the bridge in two and was thrown into the depth himself and the balrog as well. He saved us by sacrificing his life. I had Gimli in my arms to avoid him from going back to Mithrandir as we both had passed the bridge as last. After the others I ran up the stairs and came outside in the daylight at Nandohirion. Aragorn took the lead, but it was difficult to get to the others moving. Forlorn I looked around, but as my gaze spotted the woods of Lothlorien I remembered that my family would be there and we got on the way.
While I was gone, the Fellowship entered a discussion what to do. It was lively and well, but I didn’t enter it when I got back. I listened only as far was needed and kept an eye on my surroundings, never letting slip my watchfulness for dangers. They spoke about going to Moria or not. When Boromir put forth what I would say and the little fellow Gimli, I gave answer.
“I don’t wish to go to Moria,” I said.
I had nothing to search in the bowels of the earth, where a balrog lived. The decision to go where was postponed on suggestion of the ring-bearer. But as that moment we had evil wolves on us. I fled to a rockpoint where I could shoot perfectly with my bow, while the others used swords and knives to engage those wolves. My last arrow was consumed in fire, where Mithandir had set the trees ablaze. The curiousness about my arrows was that I found them all back undamaged, except for that single one. I assembled them and put them back in my quiver. These wolves were strange and must have been some creature of darkness that dissolved when dying. I could not explain it otherwise. It was very unsettling. How could creatures that deadly, yet vanish into nothing? What lay ahead of us if the group chose to go through Moria? But there was no more discussion safe for what Mithrandir said.
“We must reach the doors before sunset or I fear we shall not reach them at all. It is not far, but our path may be winding, for here Aragorn cannot guide us; he has seldom walked in this country, and only once have I been under the west wall of Moria, and that was long ago. There it lies,” spoke Mithrandir.
He pointed into the south eastwards direction to where the mountain sides ended almost upon a grey wall on the other side of us. Gimli was spirited to go there and walked together with Mithrandir. I came right behind the dwarf, there that felt better than between all those shortlegged Periannath. As last came Aragorn and Boromir. The stone around was red in this area and for some time there was only that in a lifeless landscape, until we reached the leftovers of what had once a might waterstream, the Sirannon. I remembered a part of the song.
“Sirannon, your waters quick
Sirannon, your waters fast
Cleave through rock and stone
Make your way your own.”
I said nothing further. Just let the words roll through my mind and pictured a scene from other times. Not that I had ever been here, but such were the images the stones around talked about. Where the dwarves of Moria lived, the elves took the mountain pass to cross along Caradhras. The road led over stairs to a water that was dammed complete. It filled the whole valley and the water looked dark and eerie. Gimli led us with me directly behind him and the others following over other stairs, another at the northern end of the lake toward a point where two trees stood. But there was nothing to see.
“Well, here we are at last! Here the elvenway from Hollin ended. Holly was the token of the people of that land, and they planted it here to mark the end of their domain; for the west-door was made chiefly for their use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different kind, even between dwarves and elves,” spoke Mithrandir.
But his words had an effect on both me and Gimli and were not appreciated.
“It was not the fault of the dwarves that the friendship waned,” brought Gimli forth.
“I have not heard that it was the fault of the elves,” I replied.
Mithrandir looked displeased at us.
“I have heard both, and I will not give judgement now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends, and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!” he said rather grave.
But all the more that was to me not to listen. Night or not, that didn’t bother me. The light in my eyes read the same in Gimli’s. We decided ourselves either we would like each other or not. Such we were as people of the northeast Rhovanion. We wouldn’t let us be told what to do. We got a scene with Samwise when Mithrandir told him that the pony could not come on the journey through Moria. Aragorn and Boromir assisted in getting the baggage from the pony’s back and sort out what had to be taken and what could be left behind. Samwise was angry and what he lifted off he threw on the ground. Neither Gimli or I did help and we rather had more interest in the hidden doors, or so I pretended. Instead I searched my spot under one of the trees and remained there, watching the surroundings in the dark. When the moon broke through, the doors appeared.
“There are the emblems of Durin!” called Gimli in awe.
“And there is the tree of the high elves,” I said indentifying what I saw.
The elvish on the bow I read easily, but I didn’t say. The words were written in Sindarin: "Ennyn Durin Aran Moria. Pedo Mellon a Minno. Im Narvi hain echant. Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin." Or translated: "The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs." The word for friend was Mellon, even in Leikvian. The answer was literally on the door. Celebrimbor was an elf of the Noldor I knew, one of the greatest smiths in Middle Earth. In Imladris I had overheard other elves discussing this character from memory. He had been a part of the Gwaith-I-Mirdain, in the Second Age. A place where a guest of my father, Quennar Tarcelmë, had been part off as well. Eregion had been a thriving land until it was destroyed in war against the forces of Sauron. Boromir and Pippin were the voices of doubt and unbelieve. I knew Aragorn spoke and read Sindarin also, but perhaps he could not read the script above the door. I broke cover from under the tree, when Mithrandir remembered the word for friend and the doors opened. Either Gimli and I were the first to walk through them. The dwarf was thrilled, but I found it not sensible to enter the complex alone.
Falling back on the elvenpower which was natural to me I closed out the darkness I sensed in this world. It was very heavy and I remembered the words once said to me by our head librarian.
‘That darkness is like a thick cloud, where your senses are dulled in, you see nothing, your hearing feels if you’re partly deaf and what you smell may feel you sick and nauseated in the stomach,’ she had told me.
And that was exactly what I felt so strong here. Besides in this darkness was even troubling to my eyesight. From my bag I got a simple circlet with a starlight stone in it and pressed that around my head, so its soft light shone clear ahead for me. I pulled the hood of the cape over my blond hair. I received odd gazes from Boromir and Aragorn.
“We call this a Mine,” spoke Gimli merrily, his attention elsewhere.
But in the dark I had seen already other signs on the ground. There were weapons and parts of armour, but no bodies.
“This is not a mine, this is a tomb. We should never have come here. We must make it for the gab of Rohan. Now get out of there!” called Boromir.
“Into the Mines!” ordered Mithrandir loud.
The others came into the mountain on the rushing words of Mithrandir and then some hideous creature shut the doors. When the doors were closed and all were plunged in the darkness, I heard the muffled sounds of an avalanche. The doors were blocked.
“Well, well! The passage is blocked behind us now and there is only one way out, on the other side of the mountains. I fear from the sounds that boulders have been piled up, and the trees uprooted and thrown across the gate. I am sorry; for the trees were beautiful, and had stood so long,” spoke Mithrandir on a dry tone. “We now have but one choice; we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world.”
So I was there now underground which I had not wanted. I held my bow in hand and had pressed it against my chest. Gimli was summoned to walk with Mithrandir, so I followed close up. The others came behind us. The way underground was about forty miles to Nanduhirion on the other side. Three or four marches it was for the short legs of the Periannath. I could cover that in two days or perhaps even one, depending on how fast I went. But I didn’t feel much for being quick now. On top of the twohundred steps of stairs we rested for a while, since entering this dark hell. For the third time the Fellowship received the cordial Mithrandir had gotten from Elrond. I had my own, so I refused. It was night, but nobody felt for sleep. The four Periannath sat together seeking comfort with each other, Boromir and Aragorn sat together talking to each other and Gimli joined them. Mithrandir sat on the lookout watching downwards the stairs as well the narrow passageways in the other direction. I stood with my back against the wall, watching the road ahead, for I was more worried about that part than what the stairs we just climbed. The way after the stairs circled and snaked through great caverns, over narrow stone bridges and through unused mines. Choices were hard to make for Mithrandir even he consulted Gimli. But the dwarf had never lived here and didn’t know at times. It became a travel I would always remember, because I would never return here. We came along shafts where chairs hung from chains as testimonies where once dwarves had carved gold and mithril from the stones.
“The wealth of Moria is not in gold, or jewels, but mithril,” told Mithrandir. “Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him.”
“That was a kingly gift!” said Gimli close to me.
“Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire!” grinned Mithrandir.
I stood a little closer to the border and looked over where the mithril silver was revealed by light from Mithrandir’s staff. So this was the place where my hauberk also came from. In this silent tomb, as Boromir had marked it earlier it was hard to imagine mining dwarves. How long had it been? Then the answer came to me: since 1980 when the balrog had been awakened; more than a thousand years ago.
“What do you think, master elf?” asked Gimli me sudden.
“It’s impressive,” I admitted.
“Soon master elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer and red meat off the bone,” said Gimli softly. “This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin and they call it a Mine.”
It was strange to be called a friend by him, but was it spontaneous, or just a mistake of speech? I said nothing, not knowing what to say. I stepped away from the shaft and followed Mithrandir. The mine let over other bridges and stairs we climbed. This was what an abandoned city was, cold and empty which got frozen in living flesh and bones. We came to a point where three corridors split into three directions, straight, down and up. There was a guard room also. Mithrandir decided to stop here and allow everyone to catch up with the sleep they had missed. Pippin had the brilliant idea to drop something in the former well and thus betrayed our presence here. The stone echoed in the depths, which was soon alarming answered by faint sounds of what Gimli indentified as hammers. Just as Mithrandir I remained awake and alert during the six hours that passed. Sometimes I thought of Merelin and the joyful hours we had spent before my leave from Aradhrynd. I never sat down and remained ready to fight, if necessary. I missed the stars greatly, but I had the captured starlight in the stone on my forehead. While Mithrandir’s smoke circled up, I dreamt of my father and grandmother and the beauty of Aradhrynd. Hours later Mithrandir woke the rest and chose the right corridor, where the stairs went up. It was a long climb, seemingly endless; it grew broader and went up. The stairs had gone over in a road. We paused twice. We ended finally in a very great hall, where once the dwarves had lived. Mithrandir offered us again a look on the magnificence of the stone pillars that supported the roof.
“Behold the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf,” spoke Mithrandir.
We spent the night in the great hall. Mithrandir slept now too, as the others, though there was on the two hours a watch. I remained awake nonetheless, and didn’t even dream. But in what the early morning hours could be, I felt something sneaking up to me and faster than the eye could follow I pinned with my left arm the owner against the wall by the throat and pointed the knife in my right hand against the underside of the chin. It was Boromir.
“Don’t ever sneak up behind me again, or it’s your death. It’ll be my pleasure,” I hissed angry between my teeth on a soft sharp tone.
Aragorn and Mithrandir awoke shocked. Boromir tried to get loose, but I was too strong for him. My gaze bore into his eyes and soul, where I read the slow work of how the ring influenced him. I let him loose and with fear in his eyes he rubbled his throat where I had pressed him against the wall.
“What kind of creature are you that never sleeps?” growled Boromir at me.
“Boromir!” called Aragorn shocked.
I gave Boromir a hateful and loathing glare. I put the knife in the sheath of my back and ran off into the northern direction, where the sunlight peaked through the roof and left bundles on the floor. Out of sight of everyone I leaned against the wall and pressed my eyes closed against the knowledge that I really could have killed him. It was self-defense, but still. It was Gimli who came up behind me.
“Are you alright?” he asked concerned, holding the walking axe in hand.
Slowly I nodded and looked at him. I nodded thankful.
The Periannath, Aragorn, Mithrandir and as last Boromir came walking to us. What had changed a little between Gimli and me I didn’t know, but he took a stance between me and Boromir.
“Is he alright, Gimli?” informed Mithrandir.
“Legolas is, Gandalf,” nodded Gimli.
We came out on a square room where we found a tomb, and an end came to the riddle what happened to the colony of Balin. He was dead. Gimli pulled the cap of his cloak over his head and knelt before the tomb. I could feel a darkness that not only emanated from the ring, but also drew all evil creatures to it.
“We must move on, we cannot linger,” I said to Aragorn and in general.
We remained there for a small time, while Mithrandir read a book he found, and that revealed that the colony had been overrun by orcs. On the moment we wanted to leave sounded drums and horns of the sort I knew those were from orcs. I had wanted to leave immediately, but the others had stayed. Grim I waited on what would happen, while the other debated which ways to go. Gimli jumped on the tomb.
“Agh! Let them come! There's one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath,” breathed Gimli angry.
“They have a cavetroll,” called Boromir.
He and Aragorn closed the half broken doors. But that was not much defense. A fight broke out. Three orcs I shot dead and the rest I cut down with my knives. Aragorn and Boromir got the major part in a short time. The troll was harder to handle, but a shot of mine through the mouth ended his life and he slumped down on the ground at my feet. We had it soon under control and Mithrandir let the others toward the hall back. I grabbed Gimli and pulled him from the tomb he wanted not to leave. Lots of stairs followed that descended in the dark. While the others could not see, I had not this problem. The light from the stone on my forehead gave me sight on the path ahead. Mithrandir rejoined us, where he had enchanted a door somewhere upstairs, but the news he had met an equal was unsettling. I knew it was the balrog on the other end as the cold temperature was rising. The stairs were risky, as were no sides and if you fell off you plunged to your death in the depths. We came in a new hall. Orcs came up behind us and we came into a rain of arrows, where an arrow shot through Mithrandir’s hood, Frodo was hit, but the arrow didn’t harm him. One missed Pippin on a hair and I had also one against my chest that fell undamaged on the floor. We came on the bridge that spanned an endless dark gap. I turned around with an arrow on my bow and stared unto the fieriest darkness I had ever seen, the balrog.
“Ai! Ai! A balrog! A balrog has come!” I called.
“Durin’s bane!” shouted Gimli.
“A balrog. Now I understand. What an evil fortune! And I am already weary,” muttered Mithrandir, leaning on his staff.
On his command we fled over the bridge. Mithrandir remained in the middle of the bridge and the way he blocked the balrog, I knew he was not going to win this.
“You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass,” spoke Mithrandir loud.
Before us he broke the bridge in two and was thrown into the depth himself and the balrog as well. He saved us by sacrificing his life. I had Gimli in my arms to avoid him from going back to Mithrandir as we both had passed the bridge as last. After the others I ran up the stairs and came outside in the daylight at Nandohirion. Aragorn took the lead, but it was difficult to get to the others moving. Forlorn I looked around, but as my gaze spotted the woods of Lothlorien I remembered that my family would be there and we got on the way.