Twisted Fate
IceAngel

Rating - PG
Main Characters - Faramir, Aragorn, Legolas, Fellowship

Chapter 11- Shining Eyes

The bow passed fluently from Frodo to Legolas' outstretched hand. The Elf lay on his stomach, his tired eyes watching the scene that played out before them. He knew he could not have helped his friends in battle, in fact he could have proved a distraction if he had forced himself to fight. But neither would he let the conflict turn against the Fellowship. He would soon heal, but not fast enough.

When the Goblin had grabbed Pippin, its back to them, Frodo had been quick to take in the situation and realize the three were the only ones who could save them now. He recovered the Elf's bow from where it had been placed upon escaping the caves and passed it across to Legolas.

Legolas could not bear to think he was destroying the Hobbits' faith in him so he struggled to raise himself onto his elbows, tilting his weapon sideways as if it were a crossbow. Keeping as flat as he could to the ground, for if one of the Goblin's saw them, their one chance at escape would be lost, he slowly drew back the bow string.

He felt the wound in his shoulder, freshly treated by Aragorn, begin to tear with the pressure. He clenched his teeth against the pain, squinting to perfect his aim. Heavily clad in armour, the only parts of the Goblin that seemed unprotected were its face and a small gap between its breast plate and shoulder guards. As its face was turned from them, Legolas realised his only choice was to place the arrow between the armoured plating. His eyes blurred with pain and exhaustion, only one shot, one chance.

The arrow sped through the air, silent and deadly. Legolas grimaced with pain as the pressure was released and he let his bow fall to the grass. He only just saw the Goblin's body jerk as the arrow struck its mark ere the darkness took him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was over. Aragorn wiped the last of the Goblin blood from his sword upon the grass.

The surprise that had possessed him the moment the Goblin leader had fallen was short lived and his long practiced reflexes served him well. Shoving his elbow into the chest of the paralysed Goblin behind him, he flicked his foot upwards and Andúril landed neatly in his outstretched palm. His strong fingers closed around the familiar hilt and before the Goblin behind him had time to duck its ugly head, it didn't have one to duck. Faramir had managed to take down his goblin with a quick stroke to its heart and in the time it took, three Goblin's were felled by Gimli's vengeful axe.

The small remnants of the Goblin party, the cowards, had retreated back into the safety of their underground home. Aragorn let his eyes rest for a moment, catching his breath, before he rose resolutely to his feet.

His eyes rested on each of his brave companions, how much they had already suffered for a burden none should have to have had to bear. Gimli crouched on the ground, leaning upon his axe and holding one gloved hand over the gash in his thigh. Aragorn's eyes quickly turned towards Pippin. Faramir had lost no time in reaching the young Hobbit and was bending over his chest, searching for breath. Merry watched in silent dread, his red eyes fixed to the still body of his cousin.

Aragorn came up beside him and knelt down so as to bring himself down to the Hobbit's height. His grey eyes searched Merry's though he could not think of what to say. For a moment he was utterly confounded, unable to bring to words his own feelings that Pippin's safety had been his own responsibility. He wanted to make sure Merry did not blame himself for what had occurred, something he could not have said for himself.

"He breaths!" Frodo's voice broke the uncomfortable silence with a beam of sunlight that warmed each of their hearts.

"His pulse is weak, but Master Peregrin will be quite alright." Faramir turned and gave Aragorn and Merry one of his occasional smiles. "You have done it Aragorn! We have come through!"

Aragorn had to smile at that as his eyes travelled across the bloody battlefield, Gimli's leg, the unconscious Elf and the bruises that already marred Pippin's throat. He shook his head in disbelief and bent down to lift Frodo to his feet.

"Where is Sam?" Frodo asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

"Never you mind about me!" Sam's cheerful voice called as he emerged from behind the rocks, leading a disgruntled Bill from where he had been tied. "You didn't think I'd forget ol' Bill did you. I can see none of you have given him a thought. Poor old Bill, an' after you being so brave in the tunnels and all." He stroked the pony's nose affectionately and Bill snuffled in contentment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The dark clouds that had blackened the sky all evening had finally cleared and at last the stars shone brightly above. Aragorn was glad, perhaps it would do Legolas some good to see them again after being in the dark so long. Over and over he cursed himself for not realising the implications of the dark. If he had not been so preoccupied about taking Gandalf's place as a guide, he might have noticed the feelings and trepidation of his friends.

As he lay on his back, his head resting on his hands, a small movement beside him caught his eye and he turned his head slightly. To Aragorn's great relief, he saw Legolas' eyes had reclaimed their brightness, no longer dimmed by the oppressive dark. A slight smile rested on the Elf's lips as he gazed at the stars, marvelling at their beauty.

The white bandage on his shoulder stood out in the moonlight and Aragorn knew the wound would soon heal. He would feel uncomfortable until it did for the archer was invaluable protection for the company. As had been proved that day.

"Aragorn?" Legolas somehow seemed to know he was awake. "You should be resting, your watch is not for many hours. Trust in the Hobbits, they will not let anything run amiss."

"I do trust them," Aragorn replied, "it is not that, It's just I keep thinking what would have happened if Faramir had not taken you all from the cave, if you had not killed the Gobblin. Pippin would have died. The quest would have failed!"

"Nay," Legolas said, "you must have more faith in yourself. There would have been another way. You have led us well, it is not easy to be responsible for the souls of so many."

"Alas for Gandalf! If he had been here . . How things would have been different. It was my resolve, Legolas, to climb Caradhras. Gandalf wished for another road. Darker than the caves we have just escaped... Moria."

Legolas did not speak for some moments and Aragorn turned his head, thinking that the Elf had fallen back to sleep. He had not. Something more consuming than sleep possessed his friend, not showing on the pale face but in the depths of his eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At first Faramir thought the same dream had returned. Night after night had it haunted him before and during his journey to Imladris, and even on arrival it did not leave completely. So familiar was the vision before him that his body began to shake in dread anticipation.

Rumbling thunder shook the earth under his bare feet and the sky above was a waste land filled with light and dark. His eyes stared fearfully to the east, awaiting the terrible darkness that he knew would come. He turned then to the west, praying the light would conquer the dark. He was not conscious of the fact he stood alone, a single figure on the barren landscape stretching in both directions. But something was not right, the light in the west had not come, darkness held the world under its blanket as Faramir stretched out his hands in blind desperation towards the west.

A blinding flash struck pain into his mind and through the agony, his only thought was that the light had triumphed. Upon opening his eyes, he saw it was not so.

No longer was he standing on the bare plains, instead he stood upon Henneth Annûn. A deep sigh escaped Faramir's lips as he looked again upon the fairest of all the falls of Ithilien. Here his heart dwelt ever, the Window of the Sunset. Forgetting everything he gazed through the thin curtain of rainbow water, ever changing in the rays of the setting sun. Perhaps, he thought, it had all been a dream. Never had he abandoned his duty as Captain of the Rangers of Ithilian, never had he felt the need to journey leagues upon leagues facing events he had pushed from his mind, before reaching Imladris. All had been a fancy of his own, believing that he could be the hero his father would never believe him to be. He reached out a gentle hand and felt the cool waterfall onto his palm. But, the water was not cool and clear . . . It was warm, warm and the colour of blood.

With a cry of dismay he withdrew his blood soaked hand and turned away from the terrible sight before him. In turning from the bloody falls, his frightened eyes falling on something far, far worse. Boromir, his brother, lay before him, his body torn and broken. Faramir stumbled backwards in complete fear and horror. What was happening! He felt the blood drip from his hands and knew it was his brother's.

"Boromir! How come you here, brother? What has happened?" Faramir had never felt anything like it, panic and confusion and terror flooded through his entire body.

The terrible shade of Boromir raised his tortured eyes to meet Faramir's and their meaning was all too clear.

"No! Boromir, I didn't do it! I . . ." he looked down at his hand and saw he clutched a sword, dark with blood. "NO!!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"NO!" The terrible scream split the air and Faramir jerked upright, tears in his eyes and his fists clenched so tight they were numb. But it was not him who had screamed. He clambered out from beneath his blanket with difficulty, the material sticking to the cold sweat of his body. The realisation that it had been a vision only slightly relieved his tension for if it had been a prophecy, what did it tell for the future?

He found Aragorn, Gimli and the Hobbits gathered around something on the ground. Legolas stood back slightly, holding his shoulder and hardly acknowledging Faramir when he came up by his side. Faramir tried to see what was going on and peered over Gimli's shoulder for a better view. Frodo sat stifly upright, one hand gripping Sam and the other reaching out for Aragorn. His face was deathly pale and Faramir wondered what he could have seen while on watch to create this kind of terror.

"Strider,"

Faramir could only just hear Frodo's urgent whisper and lent forwards, brushing shoulders with the Elf who was also anxious to hear.

"He was here, Strider . . Here in the camp," Frodo's eyes never focused on those of his friends, instead they were searching the low bushes and rocks that lay around the camp. "Shining eyes in the dark, like two great moons, he was following us . . . he spoke to me." Frodo had to force the words out.

"Who? Who was it Frodo? You must tell us," Aragorn's gently persuasive voice helped Frodo to focus back on his friends.

"Gollum." Faramir's breath caught sharply in his throat and he felt an involuntary shudder pass through the Elf's body next to him. He could not believe it! Surely the creature could not have followed them here. All the way from Mirkwood! How could it have known where they were?

"Are you sure you were not mistaken, little one?" Gimli's gruff voice asked and was met by a pair of scared, yet firm, eyes.

"You may not believe me, but I speak truly. He knows where we are! Where we are going, and he will not stop until he has it!"

Review this Chapter

Chapter12 - Grey Dawn

The sun hid behind the mountains as the chill of the grey morning lay dew on the crisp grass and frost upon the leaves. Eight figures could be seen moving like ants along the bank of the mountains. Weighed down by supplies as well as exhaustion, their progress was slow and frustrating.

Faramir let his eyes roam over the scenery, glad that he did not mind the land as it was, bare and stripped of all its finery. It had a harshness to it, of course, but also an underlying strength. Watching the darkness flee from the hard dawn had given Faramir a kind of relief. Only an hour after Gollum's supposed attack, Aragorn had decided that since no one could get any sleep, they would press on through the night and rest when morning came. And he had been right. The stark light seemed to make the shadows of the dark fall away as though they had just awoken from a nightmare. And even Faramir's own vision, as terrible as it had been the night before, seemed only that, a vision. He was yet to tell Aragorn about his dream, for although he intended to, the man had enough to worry about.

Faramir heard a small pattering of feet and looked down to find Sam by his side. The poor Hobbit's legs had to work twice as hard to keep up with Faramir's long strides.

"Mr Faramir, sir?" he panted, quite out of breath. Do you think there'd be any chance of us stopping for a rest? Mr Pippin is asleep on his feet, has been for some time if you ask me. An' poor Mr Frodo, he's had no sleep either after that horrible creature came in the night. My feet are so cold they're numb! A short break would do us all a world of good."

"You will have to ask Aragorn," Faramir replied gently, not wanting to undermine Aragorn's leadership. "But I will have a word with him, if you wish."

"That would be right kind of you sir," Sam flustered, relieved that someone would listen to him and Pippin's complaints might be stopped.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sky was still overcast and the weather bleak as ever when the fellowship finally stopped to rest. Faramir flung himself down upon the wet grass and pulled his pack from his shoulders. He stretched his shoulders to relieve the pressure of carrying supplies, as well as Pippin who had clung to his back for what seemed like hours. Aragorn had resisted stopping earlier, he was determined to cover a greater distance before it was fully light and they could be seen by unwelcome eyes. He had taken Frodo on his own shoulders while asking Faramir to take Pippin, who was smaller. Legolas and Gimli had shared out much of the mens' load between them but still the burden had been heavy.

Although he was deadly tired, Faramir feared to fall asleep. The visions of the night still haunted his thoughts, his brother's face foremost in his mind. What did it mean? Was it related to the sudden appearance of Gollum, or a separate warning? He realised he hardly knew anything of the creature. Perhaps if he knew more, he might find a clue to its meaning.

He looked around for Aragorn, meaning to ask him for information. Seeing that Aragorn was deep in thought, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, Faramir decided not to disturb him.

A deep rumbling sound reached his ears and Faramir twisted to his right. Gimli lay comfortably on his blanket, the loudest snoring Faramir had ever heard coming from the Dwarf's open mouth.

Faramir looked over Gimli's body to where Legolas also watched the sleeping Dwarf, an amused smile on his face. Legolas was carving something, a small knife whittling away at the smooth wood. Faramir recognised what it was, the base of Gandalf's staff. Faramir had a sudden urge to snatch the wood away from the Elf, keep it safe from the knife. He frowned, wondering at the thoughts that plagued his mind. He could see why Legolas was cutting the wood; he was trying to make arrows. Each time the Elf sliced off a piece perfect for an arrow and began smoothing it, the wood rebelled and split. The frustration was clear on Legolas' face. Faramir did not want to say anything about the staff, he still felt confused and embarrased about the way he acted when he had given Legolas the base. Instead Faramir focused him mind back on Gimli.

"He snores loud enough to wake the dead!" Faramir said, resisting the urge to poke the annoying Dwarf.

"I sometimes think he does it on purpose," Legolas laughed, "just to annoy me!"

"I would not be surprised if you are right," Faramir smiled back. A sudden idea came to him and he rose to his feet and tiptoed past the Dwarf. He sat down next to Legolas and the Elf gave him a questioning look.

"The creature, Gollum," Faramir began, "you know of it, do you not?"

There was a slight pause before the Elf answered, "I do. More than I wish."

"Will you tell me of him? I wish to know what we are up against?"

Legolas looked uncomfortable. "There is not much to tell; he is a dark creature, full of malice and wickedness. He is small but not to be underestimated. Aragorn thinks perhaps that when he escaped from Mordor, he was let to go . . . on an errand."

Faramir was silent for a moment, thinking over what had been said. "Mithrandir said he may yet have some part to play in our journey. What do you think he meant by that?"

"I know not," Legolas said then added with a sad smile, "but perhaps he only meant to lighten my heart. He could see how my feelings of guilt were affecting me, perhaps he felt I would be more valuable to the company if I were not worrying over the past."

"Why would you feel any responsibility for what happened?" Faramir asked, "anyone could see the odds against the Mirkwood Elves surviving, let alone preventing Gollum's escape, were set highly against you."

"This, I know" the Elf sighed, "but still I regret the ill fortune that saved me while killing dear friends. And that the terror that has come upon us, upon Frodo, could have been destroyed when we had the chance."

"In my mind," Faramir began, "Gandalf says nothing he does not mean. Perhaps he is right about Gollum, he may not be wholly evil." Faramir did not like to believe that any creature could be fully evil although Orcs came very close. "Of course the death of your friends is to be regretted, but you should hold yourself blameless in the matter. If you had died by their sides, the Fellowship would not be standing, or sleeping in Gimli's case, where we are now. We would be in Isengard, watched over by Saruman. I for one am glad fate placed you among us."

The look on Legolas' face was hard to determine. At first Faramir thought it might have been gratitude, for having heard someone else speak so fully on his personal worries, then again he might have been offended Faramir had even commented. Faramir could not detirmine which, he had never known what to talk about with Legolas although he dearly wanted the plague the Elf with questions about Elves. Every time he did, though, he felt as though he were saying the wrong thing. Elves were a strange folk, so beautiful, so intriguing and yet they held a distance between themselves that was hard to break. Perhaps trust was all that was needed. Still, whatever Faramir did, he could not seem to gain Legolas' trust.

Faramir picked up his bow and quiver, trying to look as though he had a purpose in his actions. He reached inside his quiver to see how many arrows he had left. Five . . only five. The arrows that were not broken from the battle with the Goblins had been collected and divided amongst Aragorn, Legolas and himself. There was something else in his quiver, something that made his hand tremble even looking at it. The head of Gandalf's staff.

Faramir could not explain his feelings towards the object. It served as a memory of Gandalf, and also of how he was taken from them. But it was more than that, it had always seemed as though it were alive. Faramir could not help himself, he reached out his hand to touch the staff.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Darkness swirled about him, it was as though night had come and was swallowing him whole. His body still lay on the grass by Legolas and Gimli, his hand clutching the glowing staff, his mind . . . somewhere else.

Faramir opened his eyes. It was dark, slits of hard light shone through the jagged cracks in the roof. Where was he? Where was everyone else? He had promised himself not to fall asleep, not to return to the dreams, but if this was not a dream, what was it? He moved his head slowly, painfully. Every movement sent shards of pain rushing through his body and mind.

He looked down at his hands, again blood was upon them. He closed his fist, trying to block out the terrible fear inside him. Something about his hand worried him. The skin felt strange, little cracks criss-crossed his palm and he could see wrinkles on his usually smooth fingers. What was happening to him?

He raised his hand so as to see it more clearly, perhaps it was only a trick of the light. He unconsciously brushed a strand of white hair away from his face. White hair? What-? He looked down and saw the white hair that grew from his face. /I don't have a beard! What is wrong with me!!/ Panic washed over him followed by a quick realisation.

"Gandalf," he whispered, his whole body trembling at the realisation that he was seeing through the old wizard's eyes. There was a noise from somewhere near by and in a second Faramir was blinded by the intense light in the doorway.

"Gandalf the Grey," a terrible voice sounded from the figure in the doorway. It was Saruman...
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 13 - Renegade

"Gandalf the Grey." The voice chilled Faramir to the bone. For a moment he could do nothing but stare at the worshipful figure in the doorway. He squinted into the light that reflected off Saruman's robes. They seemed at first to be white, but as the Wizard moved forwards into the chamber, they shimmered and changed, pale colours shifting in the light.

"Perhaps, my old friend, you would be glad of another chance to unburden your mind. I have given you time to think, generous I have been, but my patience is not inexhaustible." The voice was entrancing, mesmerising, Faramir felt himself wondering how anyone could have accused Saruman of treachery.

Faramir felt the need to rise before the Wizard and apologise for having ever thought ill of him and he tried to stand. A sharp pain in his back pulled him out of the trans-like state. Gandalf had been hurt, not only physically, and Faramir was not going to let Saruman's voice fool him again.

At last he did manage to drag himself up, gritting his teeth and using the wall the pull himself up onto his feet.

He looked the Wizard in the eyes and although he did not show it, was frightened by what he saw. Malice, hate for Gandalf's pureness, lust for power. But there was strength also. What could not have this Wizard have achieved if only he had resisted the temptation of power?

"I will ask you again," the voice was still benevolent but persistent. "The name of the bearer. A simple answer, that is all I ask. Be not unwise, Gandalf, in your choice of allies. What do you hope to achieve by joining with those pathetic fools? Even now they are being brought to Isengard. Make it easy on yourself, on them."

Faramir hid a confident smile behind his white beard. Saruman, he thought, you may be wise but you underestimate the 'pathetic fools' who hold your one desire. You will never get this thing, nor will Gandalf reveal anything to you now he knows your mind.

"When they come you will spare them much pain and torment if you tell me what I wish to know." Saruman was still persistent, but Faramir would not be taken in a second time. Faramir could see Saruman was growing angry at his silence.

Faramir drew himself up tall, straightening his sore shoulders, and when he spoke he was surprised to hear Gandalf's voice come from his lips, "You are a greater fool than even I guessed, Saruman, if you believe I would betray my friends this easily."

An angry light flashed in Saruman's eyes, "So be it." Immediately Faramir felt a crushing weight on his mind. He barely stopped himself from crying out as the terrible pain grew too great to bear. He sank to his knees, his hands pressed to the sides of his screaming mind. He realised what was happening, Saruman was trying to break through the barrier in his mind and read what he wanted from Faramir's head.

Saruman's staff glowed brightly in his hand and a horrible light shone in his eyes, "You cannot resist forever!" Saruman's voice rose over the pain. Angry tears blurred Faramir's vision as the weight grew too much to bear. The world spun and dissolved into blinding light . . .

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gimli's silently twisted and rubbed his hands together. He felt so useless not being able to think of anything to do to help. When Faramir had first called out, Gimli had jumped up, his mind still half-asleep, to find Faramir lying on his back, clutching Gandalf's broken staff in his outstretched hand. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face contorted with either confusion or pain.

Legolas had already bent over him, looking for a sign of what could be wrong with the man when Faramir had began to shake. The Elf drew back, not knowing what to do. He turned his head and met Gimli's worried gaze. Legolas' face was mostly blank but Gimli saw the deep concern in the Elf's green eyes.

"Aragorn! Quickly!" There was no need for Gimli to call him for the Ranger was already hurrying over, the Hobbits close on his heels.

Aragorn dropped on his knees by the trembling body. He pushed Faramir's dark hair away and placed his steady hand on the man's forehead.

"He is burning up. We need to bring his temperature down. Sam, some cold water, quickly!"

"But he is shaking, Aragorn, surely than means . . ." Legolas trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"Gimli." The Dwarf looked up upon hearing his name and noticed Aragorn giving him a meaningful look. Merry and Pippin watched, their eyes wide and scared.

"Young Hobbits," Gimli put a hand on each of their shoulders, "I can trust you to find a blanket for Faramir, couldn't I?" Glad to think they were helping, the two Hobbits scurried away letting Aragorn do what he could without having to worry about them.

Aragorn took the water from Sam and held a wet cloth to Faramir's brow, hoping to cool the burning skin. Frodo also knelt by Faramir, his small hand calming the shakes that passed through the larger hand he held. Gimli was touched by the gesture, almost wishing he was not a proud Dwarf so he could display similar feelings so innocently.

Gimli pointed his stubby finger at Faramir's other hand. "Look, the staff! That is what ails him." Gimli lunged forwards, determined to prevent any further harm from being done to his friend. His fingers had only just made contact with the wood when a searing pain ran up his arm. He pulled his hand away at once, groaning as his fingers throbbed and burned. He looked down at his hand and was alarmed to see the skin on his fingers red and blistered.

He tried levering the staff from Faramir's hand with a stick but on contact with the wood, the stick burst into flames.

"What devilry is this? Saruman's I do not doubt."

Frodo's hand was wrenched from Faramir's as the man's body convulsed. Gimli could stand it no longer. What if his friend was dying? He rushed forward and threw himself on the ground next to the Elf, "Aragorn, can't you do something? What is wrong with him? What can we do?"

"Peace Gimli," Aragorn said calmly, "there is nothing you can do by panicking. Help Legolas hold him so he cannot hurt himself."

Gimli angrily blinked away the tears that blurred his vision while reaching forwards to place his large hand on Faramir's trembling shoulder. He was surprised when it landed on Legolas's slender hand which had been quicker, and both of them withdrew their hands at once.

Slightly embarrassed Gimli met the Elf's gaze and saw the same expression on his own face. United in their concern for their friend, they managed to restrain Faramir's body so that the horrible convulsions passing through his body would not do him any harm.

Suddenly, Faramir's body went limp, a gentle, peaceful expression spreading over his tired face. Legolas and Gimli both sighed, relieved it was over, but Aragorn was less optimistic. He reached forwards for Faramir's pulse. Gimli realised what Aragorn could be thinking, there might have been another reason the convulsions had stopped.

Gimli held his breath for what seemed like minutes, not sure if he could bare it if the one who cared for them all far more than he did for himself, the one who had saved them from the tunnels, was no longer with them.

At last Aragorn raised his head, a relieved smile on his face.
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 14 - Paths of Dread

Aragorn raised his grey eyes to the similarly grey sky and felt the first drops of rain fall on his upturned face. It was going to be a dreary day, the weather growing worse as time passed. He was afraid, although he would not have admitted it. He was scared that he would make the wrong choice. It was not long before they would have to decide their course and Aragorn felt the majority of the burden of the decision lay upon himself.

He watched as Frodo snuggled into Faramir's cloak, the quiet Hobbit obvious in his relief of Faramir's recovery from the morning's scare. The man wrapped his steady arm around the Hobbit, sheltering him from the grey drizzle. Aragorn was yet to ask Faramir what had taken place. All the man had said was that he had had a terrible dream, but Aragorn knew it was more than that. He also noticed Legolas and Gimli giving Faramir strange looks as if they too did not believe him.

Aragorn had to be content to wait until they could get a quiet moment when the Hobbits would not overhear. Frodo had enough to worry about and Aragorn was constantly concerned about the little ones. It would be no good having them being frightened more than they had to be.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As Aragorn had suspected, the rain grew worse as the afternoon faded. The dark clouds above made the day seem even more unpleasant and everyone was in low spirits. They had been stuck there all day, sheltering behind bushes and low rocks to keep out of sight as well as sheltering from the rain. Aragorn paced restlessly, his grey coat drenched and muddy, trailing behind him. The others all sat, leaning against rocks or anything else they could find while eating a miserable dinner.

"Aragorn, I can not take it any more!" Gimli's voice surprised everyone as no one had spoken for a long time. He put his plate on the ground and put his hands on his hips. "Stop that infernal pacing! It is making my head spin. Come and sit down and tell us what is wrong!"

"It is almost dusk, we should be on our way in a few hours."

"You didn't answer my question, what is it that troubles you?" Gimli looked like he enjoyed drawing attention to Aragorn for now everyone was staring at him and Gimli had a satisfied smile on his face.

"Really, my friend," Aragorn smiled, "It seems your beard has grown too big for you boots, I am not the one in trouble."

"What do you mean?" Gimli asked warily.

"It seems as though Merry and Pippin were too hungry to wait for an arguing Dwarf to finish his meal." Gimli's mouth opened in surprise as he noticed his plate had disappeared. With a cry Gimli jumped to his feet and chased after the two Hobbits who, a moment ago, had felt very proud to have got a free meal.

After three times around the campsite, Gimli was out of breath and still no closer to catching the thieving Hobbits. He changed his course and Aragorn had no time to jump out of the way. Gimli fell flat on top of him, growling threats about his malnutrition.

Aragorn scrambled to his feet, laughing along with the rest and handed Gimli his own plate. Gimli looked at him strangely for a moment then snatched the plate before Aragorn could withdraw his offer.

Aragorn was well aware of three pairs of eyes staring at his back as he bent over to pull a blanket from his pack. He knew he would have to face it sooner or later, better that he got it over and done with. He turned and sure enough Legolas, Faramir and Frodo quickly averted their gazes, trying to make as if they weren't worried. Gimli on the other hand narrowed his eyes as he ate, clearly showing Aragorn that the Dwarf was no fool.

He ignored them and walked over to where Merry and Pippin were devouring what was left of Gimli's meal while Sam tried to convince them to give it back to Strider. Aragorn smiled that Sam still used that name for him and Sam looked up, his face flushing red from talking about Aragorn while he was standing behind him.

"I think it would be wise for you three to get some sleep," he said, "It is going to be a long road through the night and you will need all your senses to be alert."

The three Hobbits nodded and caught the blankets Aragorn gave them, grateful at the chance to catch a small nap while the rain was holding off.

"Where's Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, trying to see past Aragorn.

"He will join you soon, I just want to take another look at his shoulder." Aragorn did not like telling the Hobbits an untruth but it was true that they needed rest. Aragorn was also sure that Frodo would not be so easy to escape from. As much as the Ranger wished to protect the Hobbit, he also respected Frodo's right to know what was happening.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Aragorn returned to the fire he found all four waiting expectantly. Aragorn's eyes shifted over the grim faces of his friends, the firelight casting strange shadows over each.

"We await your orders," Gimli growled sarcastically, slightly annoyed that the Hobbits got to sleep when he had to remain alert.

Aragorn smiled slightly and settled himself down by the pitiful blaze, "Faramir."

His friend looked up, slightly startled at being addressed first.

"I think it is time you told us what is really going on."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The four listeners were silent throughout Faramir's somewhat emotional recollection of his dream and grew grave when Boromir was mentioned.

"I'm sure it was nothing but a dream, Faramir," Frodo comforted, patting Faramir's hand, although Aragorn could see the doubt in his eyes.

"When you have had these dreams before," Aragorn began, "do they ever . . . prove to hold any truth?"

Faramir met his eyes for a moment, then lowered his gaze, giving Aragorn the answer to his question. He sighed, "Your brother is a valiant man, whatever happens you cannot blame yourself, even if the dreams came to you first as a warning."

The words held little comfort, Aragorn knew, but he could not lie and say everything would turn out for the best.

"There is something else, Aragorn," Faramir said quietly, reluctant to give his Lord more to worry about. "When I touched the staff, it . . . was not just another dream."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gandalf was alive. This lightened Aragorn's heart much, although the thought of his good friend in the clutches of the power hungry Saruman was like knives in his heart.

But Gandalf was not a god, nor was he immune to pain. Would Saruman keep pressuring Gandalf's mind until one time he relented before unconsciousness could take him, or would Gandalf die rather than have the information forced from him. Neither of the options were heartening and Aragorn wished the responsibility of their next move did not lie so heavily upon himself. If he were free to go where he would, he would go to Isengard himself, and if not able to free Gandalf, he would die with him. Gandalf had been the mover of all things, only through Gandalf was his own destiny to become a King a reality rather than a mere dream. But this was the reason he could not venture to Isengard, if Saruman held the heir of Isildur, all Gandalf's long years of planning would be in vain.

Aragorn cringed at what Gandalf must be going through at that very moment and in a way he wished he himself had seen Faramir's vision. But perhaps it had been better that he had not. Aragorn could not help but think that if Saruman had been looking into Gandalf's mind while Faramir had been seeing through the Wizard's eyes, would not have Saruman seen Faramir's thoughts? Aragorn shuddered, if Saruman had seen into his own mind, it would have been the end of all hope.

He drew his shoulders back and spoke in a low voice, "whatever is happening to Gandalf, we must find a way to cross the mountains before either Saruman gets his information from Gandalf or another. We have two choices before us and neither are hopeful or pleasant." he paused and four sets of eyes watched him carefully. "We either pass through the Gap of Rohan, risking passing Orthanc and hope for the aid of the Rohirrim. Or we enter the gates of Moria and seek a path through the darkness. We must decide tonight for we are in a within a night's walk of the gates. What is it to be?"

As Aragorn spoke, he studied the faces of his friends. At the mention of Moria, Gimli's eyes brightened while Legolas paled, his eyes growing dark. Faramir remained impassive and Frodo just seem small and afraid.

"I will follow you to Moria," Gimli said loudly, "It is long since Balin led a party of Dwarves to the mines but perhaps they remain and would welcome us. I have long desired to look upon the home of our forefathers. But Aragorn, will you be able to open the doors? Dwarf doors are not made to be seen!"

Aragorn nodded, he had expected Gimli's support, "This I know well, and we must hope the Dwarves have not been too cunning for us, Gimli,"

Legolas began to laugh and Aragorn realised what he had said too late. Gimli swiped at the Elf angrily, "you may laugh Master Elf but the Dwarves take pride in their secure homes, if Elves had any sense they'd do the same. If any Elf has the wit to open a Dwarven door I'll eat my axe!"

Aragorn quickly rushed to change the subject before the argument could fully get going and before Gimli could say anything he would regret.

"Frodo? What would be your choice?"

The small Hobbit's face stopped smiling and at once he seemed overwhelmed by fatigue, it pained Aragorn to see it. "I do not wish to go to Moria," he said and Aragorn silenced Gimli's protest with a wave of his hand. "And yet neither do I deem it wise to pass so close to Saruman's stronghold." He raised his large eyes to Aragorn's and placed all his trust in the man he had come to rely upon, "I will follow your advise, Aragorn, wherever you lead us and Sam will do the same."

"Legolas? What do you think?"

The pale face was as impassive as ever but the Elf's eyes were dark. "I do not wish to go." It was what Aragorn had expected and he opened his mouth to go on, but was interrupted, "but I will brave Moria if that is the ringbearer's choice, and yours, Aragorn," the low voice shook as he spoke, "if you can lead us through the dark."

There was a uncomfortable silence for a moment as the others digested the unexpected answer.

Legolas coughed slightly, as though the previous tremble in his voice was due to a slight chill, "Though I do not believe master Gimli will cease in his endeavours to convince me of the greatness of the underground, I am willing to let him try."

No one smiled and Legolas' lame attempt at his usual light conversation did not fool any of them. Aragorn was sure the Elf's comment was directed to Frodo to dispel any doubts the Hobbit had about dragging them into the dark so soon after they had escaped from it.

But Frodo was by no means as naive as Legolas had hoped, "Your support means much to me, Legolas, but I would not lead any friend through the torment you will endure if we pass through the caves. You were sent on the quest to protect us, and that you have. To represent your people, that you have also, great honour should you receive if ever this 'business', as Bilbo would say, comes to an end. But you were bound only to come as far as you may, and it seems that if Moria is chosen, your part in the adventure has come to an end."

"Before we make any choice," Faramir said lightly, taking the attention from the Elf who looked decidedly uncomfortable, "we should ask the Hobbits what they think. I do not believe it is fair to keep them in the dark while we discuss matters without them."

Faramir's words again gave Aragorn a twinge of guilt about the innocent Hobbits.

"Quite right, Mr Faramir, sir!"

Aragorn almost jumped from the ground as Sam stepped into the small circle of firelight. "Keeping us in the dark, indeed! Do you think you need to protect us that badly that you won't tell us what's going on?"

The Hobbit's cheeks were flushed pink and Aragorn felt the need to apologise. Sam had obviously been listening to their whole conversation.

"You're quite right when you say I'll follow where Mr Frodo leads, but I think Mr Merry and Mr Pippin might have been consulted!"

"Quite right!"

Aragorn opened his mouth in amazement as the other two Hobbits stepped casually forwards. "You thought you had us fooled, Strider, but you should know by now that Merry and I are not ones to be left out."

"As it is," Merry continued, "Pippin and I have decided that another journey through the dark would slow us down and if we are careful, we could go the other way and perhaps Saruman would not catch us."

"The Gap of Rohan seems the better choice but we will follow Frodo and Aragorn in their choice too."

Aragorn smiled, their innocent way of putting things made everything seem so simple. He might have been persuaded if Saruman did not pose such a threat to Frodo and the ring, and all of them it seemed.

"What do you think Faramir," Frodo asked, reminding everyone that Faramir was yet to state his opinion.

"Frodo, although I fear another journey in the dark, I fear it less than other things. I have seen Saruman . . . looked into his eyes and felt his gaze upon me. And though it was not my mind he tried to read, I never wish to feel that way again."

Frodo lowered his eyes as Faramir spoke.

"I am afraid for you, Frodo . . . for all of us . . . his hate and need for revenge is great . . . I would not see you harmed. But the greatest danger is from the thing which you carry. Saruman has power beyond perhaps even Mithrandir, what would he become if he broke faith with the dark lord and claimed the greatest weapon on Middle Earth for himself?"

Aragorn grimaced after this. Now finally his heart spoke of what he must do. Faramir and Gimli opted for Moria, Legolas and the two young halflings chose the lighter path though the gap in the mountains, therefore his own decision ruled. Frodo would follow him and Sam would follow his master, making Aragorn's choice the majority vote.

Aragorn sighed, he had feared it would come to this. He would be the one to cast the vote that would count. He would decide the fate of middle earth in one word.

"Moria, I choose Moria."
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 15 - Speak Friend and Enter

The towering cliffs of Moria frowned down upon the company, shadows streaking their grim and silent faces. Two great trees, twisted and gnarled, crept a long way up the wall. Before they had reached the sheer cliff, the trees had looked little more than average size, but standing under then now was like looking up at the size of a dragon.

Gimli had wandered around at first, grumbling about his sodden boots and looking warily at the lake, dim and stagnant.

"A strange thing indeed, Aragorn," Faramir said in reference to the dark water, "no reflections, not even the sunset mirrors on the water."

"I do not like it," Gimli growled, "the Sirannon was a fine river in its time, it grieves me to see it this way. I wonder who or what dammed the river."

"I don't think I want to know," Pippin said with a shiver, "the lake . . . it frightens me."

"The lake is less frightening than the sound of the wind," Merry added and everyone fell silent to listen. Sure enough the wind was howling over the rumbling of the clouds above, it seemed as though they were in for another rainstorm.

"Cursed weather!" Gimli muttered angrily, "and the howling of the wind, Merry is right, it is almost too much to bear!"

Aragorn's head turned to look at the dwarf but the Ranger did not speak, he seemed to be listening. "It is not the wind," he said slowly, "it is . . ."

"Wolves!" Legolas finished, "although they are quite far away."

"Not far enough away for my liking!" Gimli growled, hefting his axe and feeling its comforting weight.

"We must find the door before they get too close for comfort. We do not want to be trapped between the wolves and the wall."

Aragorn and Faramir searched the wall with their hands and swords, trying to find any crack or sign of the door. Gimli paced slowly, tapping the wall every so often with his axe. He was sure that by finding the place where the wall sounded hollow, the door would be revealed.

The Dwarf was slightly worried about his Elven companion. Hardly a word had Legolas spoken all that night and now the Elf stood away from them, leaning against the cold stone of the wall, as if listening.

Gimli went over to him, "does the stone speak or do you simply wish to avoid our company?" The comment was intended to get a rise out of his friend but Legolas just looked up slowly as if he had not hardly heard Gimli speak at all. Gilmi looked up into the Elf's face and saw his friend's eyes were distant and slightly glazed over.

"Does your injury still trouble you?" Gimli asked in a low voice, touched with concern.

Legolas didn't focus on him as he spoke, "I should ask you the same. Has Aragorn taken a look at your leg?"

"You're changing the subject," Gimli said angrily, "Here let me take a look at your shoulder."

Legolas could have stopped Gimli pulling back his cloak if he had tried, but the Elf only made a mild protest, telling Gimli in a distant voice that there was nothing really wrong with him."

"I'll be the judge of that." Gimli made Legolas undo the top few buttons on his shirt and pull it to the side, revealing his right shoulder. Gimli could see nothing to alarm him, only a long white scar and some dark bruising that marred the skin and thanks to the Elf's unnatural healing, that too should disappear in a few days.

Gimli frowned, in a way he had hoped it had been the injury that troubled his friend. A scratch on the surface was preferable to the deep scaring beneath. Gimli was not clueless and in his heart he knew what troubled the Elf.

"Rest it up," he said, pushing Legolas' shirt back into place, "it wouldn't do to strain it before it was fully healed." Gimli took a quick intake of breath, not quite sure how the Elf would react to his next words, "You will not be alone this time, you know," he said gruffly.

Gimli was glad to see Legolas' eyes finally focus on him. "Aragorn will see us through the mines, all right and we'll all be together." Gimli felt quite embarrassed about trying to give support. It was all very well to comfort the Hobbits who were small and vulnerable, but giving reassurance to someone more that a foot taller, let alone an Elf whose every step was perfect, that was almost laughable.

But Gimli had worried for nothing for almost at once Legolas straightened up and smiled, "I do believe you are blushing, Master Dwarf."

"On the contrary, I do assure you. I am simply red with rage at your downright rudeness all through this night."

There was a small commotion back near the walls as the Hobbits' cried out in delight. Gimli and Legolas quickly made their way back over to the main group.

"Ah, how did you do it, Aragorn?" Legolas' voice was filled with awe as he gazed at the faint silvery lines that had somehow appeared upon the vertical cliff face. They shone brightly in the moonlight and grew stronger so that they could make out a pattern.

"In truth, it is a mystery. Faramir and I were trying to find an opening and one of us must have touched a place that revealed the writing. Very strange . . . "

"The emblems of Durin!" Gimli cried, as he recognised the among the silver lines an anvil and a hammer.

"And the tree of the high Elves!" said Legolas.

"What do the letters say?" Sam asked and it took Aragorn and Legolas a moment to decipher the silver writing.

"Ennyn Durin Atan Moria: pedo mellon a minno," Frodo read the larger letters aloud and Gimli noted the surprise on Legolas' face that the Hobbit's Elvish pronunciation was so good. Faramir also looked at the Hobbit with something close to admiration, Gimli smiled as he was sure he knew exactly what was passing through his curious friend's head. Gimli wouldn't be surprised that if next time he spoke to Faramir, the man would have irritated Aragorn, Legolas or Frodo until one of them agreed to teach him some Elvish. Gimli did admit it was a pleasant language and especially useful for the songs Legolas continually annoyed him with, but perhaps Elvish had a greater attraction to the ears of men.

"The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend and enter. The words are written in the language spoken by the Elves in Western Middle earth more than an age ago," Legolas told them.

"But what does it mean?" Merry asked, slightly disgruntled that although they had found one answer, it just provided another puzzle.

"That is plain enough," Gimli said, proud of his common sense that neither Man, Elf or Hobbit seemed to possess, "If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open. Simple . . . if we knew the word . . . Aragorn?"

Everyone looked hopefully at Aragorn. The man didn't react.

"You do know the word! Surely you haven't brought us here with no knowledge of how to enter?" Gimli's voice sounded harsher than he meant it to and all the Hobbits started looking desperate.

Legolas quickly put his hand on Gimli's shoulder to calm him down, "You said, Aragorn you had passed through the mines before."

"My memory of that journey is dark and little do I remember of password or door."

"What are we to do?" Sam said angrily, "just sit here till the wolves eat us?" Sam was still very upset after being told Bill the pony would not be able to follow them through the mines. Strider was not his favourite person at the moment.

"Peace, Sam," Faramir said sternly, "anger or despair will help no one. We must seek for the word and prepare for an attack from behind."

"We have a little time at least," Aragorn said, "Merry, Pippin, could you help Frodo and Sam to sort the packs and keep only bare essentials - food supplies. Take Bill's load and divide it among us and try not to get everything wet. You will have to move further up the path to where the bank is drier."

Sam burst into tears at once and went over to hug his favourite pony. Gimli watched as Faramir had a quiet talk with Sam while Legolas spoke a few words to the pony, apparently giving it advice.

The Man and the Elf first lifted the four Hobbits over the large dead tree that blocked the path. Aragorn instructed them to unpack the supplies on dry ground and so moving further away from the shore was necessary.

Gimli did not like leaving the Hobbits on the other side of the tree. If the wolves surprised them with an attack, the only way around the lake was through the place the Hobbits now sat. It worried Gimli that they would be closest to the enemy. He doubted Faramir and Legolas could get all the Hobbits and baggage back over the barrier in time but did not like to doubt Aragorn's judgement.

They returned to the wall and Aragorn and Legolas proceeded in trying many different words and phrases that they hoped would serve as a password. Nothing worked. Eventually Legolas gave up and wandered back over to where Gimli was standing.

"Perhaps we should help the Hobbits, "Gimli suggested, I don't like leaving them there on their own."

"It was enough trouble getting you over the tree the first time," Legolas smiled, "I refuse to do it again." Gimli noted that the Elf's mood had improved, he put this down to the failure to enter the mines. He was sure Legolas would prefer to face a host of wolves than enter Moria.

Legolas suddenly looked up towards the horrizon, concentration wiping away his smile.

"What is it?" Gimli whispered. But he did not have to wait long. A great howl split the air and dark shapes appeared on the horizon.

"The wolves!" Gimli yelled and heard Aragorn draw his sword. Legolas was already pulling Pippin over the dead tree and heaving the baggage Sam passed up to him. Gimli glanced quickly over his shoulder and was surprised to see Faramir hadn't moved! He was still staring up at the letters on the wall.

"Faramir! Faramir! Come and help us!" Gimli yelled in frustration and ran back to the head of the cliff, "What are you doing?" he yelled, tugging on the man's arm, "the wolves are coming down the valley!" Faramir did not respond, his brow was creased and he was deep in anxious thought.

Gimli let out a growl of frustration and turned back to the path. Aragorn was dragging much of the baggage towards him, Merry and Pippin on his heals. Gimli grabbed the remaining pack and swung it onto his shoulder, taking Sam by the arm and puling him along too despite his protests.

He dumped the bag by the cliff and turned back to help Legolas and Frodo. The Elf was in the process of lifting Frodo over the tree and Gimli moved forwards. Suddenly, he felt a wave of freezing water wash over his feet and he looked down to sea the lake was bubbling, no longer peaceful and stagnant.

Frodo's cry reached his ears and he looked up just in time to see the water close to his friends explode into the air and some kind of creature reach out for the Hobbit. The many-tentacled creature seemed to be guided by an unknown force for it seemed to want Frodo alone. The tentacle closed around Hobbit's legs, dragging him towards the water. Legolas was thrown backwards as another of the creature's arms struck out at any resistive forces.

Gimli rushed forwards and dragged the Elf to his feet. They looked up together to see the Wolves had almost reached the natural barrier and would be on the company in seconds. Aragorn was quick to react and the leading wolves were felled by perfectly aimed arrows before they got within metres of the tree. Gimli heard Adúril being unsheathed and Aragorn went calmly forwards to meet the enemy.

As Aragorn somehow managed to hold off the wolves by himself, Gimli and Legolas waded out into the horrible water and struck out at the creature holding Frodo.

Legolas continued to fire at point blank range, his arrows piercing the tentacle over and over, Gimli was amazed at their accuracy, as he had never seen the Elf in a battle. The Dwarf found it hard to get close enough to get a clear swing at the creature for it was constantly moving, and with each assault of one of the Elf's arrows, it reared and bucked, still not letting go of Frodo.

The creature knew it was being attacked and it struck out at the two friends, catching Gimli's already sore leg and sending him crashing into the water. The pain was terrible and for a moment Gimli did not think he could stand again, but Frodo's frightened cries gave him the strength to try and rise. He heard Legolas fire two more arrows and heard the creature's howl of pain. The Elf's hand closed around his arm and began to haul him back to his feet.

Gimli wasn't sure what happened next, there was a swirl of water and a cry close to him as he was thrown back into the black water, trying hard not to swallow any. The grip on his arm had gone and Gimli rose to his knees, spluttering his friend's name.

From what he could tell, one of the giant tentacles had whipped out of the water, aimed at himself and Legolas, and while the Elf had been trying to help him up, it had attacked.

Gimli struggled back to the shore, dragging his injured leg behind him and feeling great relief that he hadn't been standing at the time. Legolas had been thrown, or carried back and smashed into the cliff face, and now he was trapped between the rock and the creature's arm that held him there. Gimli reached his friend's side and seeing the crushing strength that held the Elf against the wall, he swung his axe downwards and cut deeply into the creature's flesh.

A screech of pain an anger came from the water and the thing withdrew it's arm. Gimli caught the Elf before he fell to the ground.

"Thankyou, nin mellon," Legolas panted, holding his crushed ribs. Gimli reached forwards and picked up the Elf's bow from the muddy ground.

"MELLON!"

Gimli's head turned at once to the sound of Faramir's voice, and saw a crack split the door to the mines. A great creaking, groaning sound was heard and the door swung open.

Faramir was at his side in a second, his bow raised and aimed at the creature's body.

"Shoot for the centre of the body!" he yelled, "That is where it is most vulnerable!"

Legolas raised his bow also and did what Faramir said. Gimli realised he could be of no use there and he ran to help Aragorn. The man and the Hobbits were surrounded by a pile of dead wolves, each with either arrow wounds or deep sword marks in their flesh.

Pippin and Merry had been working together and it seemed to be working quite effectively for neither were injured.

Sam was not even noticing the battle with the wolves and he was trying desperately to stab the thing which held his master. Tears were running down his face and Gimli noticed there was no sign of Bill.

Gimli stepped up to Aragorn's side and raised his axe, "Faramir opened the door," he said lightly and was pleased to see Aragorn's worried face turn upon him a look of sheer wonder and disbelief.

"Get inside!" Aragorn shouted to the Hobbits and Merry and Pippin turned at once.

"What about Mr Frodo?" As if in answer to Sam's call, one of the Elf's arrows pieced the very middle of the creature's body and letting out a cry of pain, it let go of Frodo. Faramir rushed forwards and caught the Hobbit in his arms, calling for Aragorn to hurry.

The all fled together towards the entrance with the wolves and the creature close behind. Gimli tumbled through the door, colliding with the other bodies that had leaped out of the way of the reaching arms. There was a tremendous crunching sound and they were plunged into complete darkness.
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 16 - Patience

"I think it's alright." The small hand reached for the chain around the other's neck. "Thank the stars he still has it"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As if he were still in a dream, Frodo felt himself jerk upright, "Keep back! Get away from me! it's mine!" The voice was his own, this surprised him for he had never heard himself speak so harshly and with so much anger. His fingers closed around the cool metal, the ring . . . the ring . .

A wave of cold swept over him and he suddenly felt freezing and alone in the blinding darkness. As he began to remember where he was, he became painfully aware of the silence around him as whoever had tried to touch the ring had drawn back in shock at his reaction.

Frodo shivered and wished someone would take away the terrible darkness, "I'm . . sorry . . . so sorry . . . I don't understand . . "

"It's alright, Mr Frodo, it's just me," Sam's comforting voice and his warm hand holding his in the dark was almost too good to be true. "You kept it safe, and you're safe now too."

"But . . . what was that thing, or were there many of them? And where is everyone?"

"We are all here, Frodo." Strider's strong voice was a great comfort to Frodo who had truly believed all but Sam and himself had not made it. "But I do not know what the creature may be. Doubtless it was the cause of the damming of the river. It was said that beneath Moria, a terror dwelt and now someone or something has woken it, perhaps we will find more trouble ahead than we guessed.

There was a harsh whisper that Frodo suspected was Sam telling Aragorn not to be so disheartening when he was only just recovering.

"Poor Mr Frodo," Sam said, "your legs must be sorely bruised after that horrid creature got a hold of you. I did my best, sir, but poor old Bill, I had to choose, Mr Frodo, I had to come with you. An' all the wolves and the snakes, really Strider, I don't know why he couldn't have come along with us. After all he'd been through."

"I don't think Bill would have followed you, Sam, even if you had dragged him." Aragorn's voice seemed strange to Frodo, it was a mixture of regret and sadness.

"Bill would have followed me into a dragon's den if I led him. But there I go again, Bill is gone and there's nothing that can be done about it now. I just hope he doesn't end up in a wolf's belly!"

"I am truly sorry Sam," from Aragorn's voice Frodo could tell he meant it. "But we must look to the present. First of all, is anyone hurt?"

There were some grumbles, that Frodo suspected came from Gimli, and a shuffle of feet. Frodo realised he was lying on a broad, shallow step and the others were gathered around him.

"Pippin? Merry? Are you both well?" Aragorn had fought alongside them but with the violence of the wolves' attack, he had not seen whether either had been injured.

Frodo held his breath for a moment, hoping neither of his young cousins had been hurt.

"Pippin got a bad cut on his leg and we're both covered in the horrible wolf blood but we will live." Frodo heard Aragorn's quiet sigh, the Ranger would never forgive himself if the two Hobbit's had been badly hurt. Frodo was the same, for in his mind, he had dragged them along on the adventure, even if he knew quite well they would have come anyway.

"Gimli?"

"Like the Hobbits, I will live," the Dwarf assured him, "I am soaked to the bone and if ever I come across that creature again I will see that he pays for the damage he did to my leg!" Frodo realised he too was wet through. The creature's attack had been so violent that the water had erupted around him. He pulled the blanket that was wrapped around him tighter.

"I believe it will think again before attacking a Hobbit now it has had a taste of Faramir and Legolas' arrows," Aragorn smiled. "But can you walk, Gimli?"

"Gimli, son of Gloin, miss the opportunity to explore the halls of Durin because he got hit in the leg?" the Dwarf roared incredulously, "I think the wolves must have jolted your brain, Aragorn, for you to even ask such a question!"

"Alright, Alright," Aragorn laughed, "there is no need for that. I would still like a look at your leg, Gimli, son of Gloin, if you aren't too high and mighty to let a friend offer his help."

"How you are going to 'take a look' at anything in this darkness is a mystery to me but I will relent, if you can find a light."

"I can see a light," Pippin put in, his voice smaller than usual, "over by the door. It keeps moving and flashing."

"Of course!" Aragorn sounded excited although the others had no idea what he had discovered. "Faramir?"

The strange light began to move and as Faramir answered him from what seemed like a long way back, the light disappeared, "What is it Aragorn?"

"Gandalf's sword, Glamdring, bring it here."

There was a shuffling sound and a collective gasp as Faramir took the sword from his back where he had carried it and unsheathed it. A pale glow radiated from the blade and Faramir's face was illuminated in the strange light.

"And we have light!" Merry said.

"But at what price?" Aragorn said grimly and they all turned to look at him. "Frodo," Aragorn said by a means of explanation and after a second the Hobbit understood. His heart, joyful at the discovery of light, fell dramatically as he drew Sting from its sheath.

Bright was its blade, though not as bright as Glamdring's. "Orcs," he said, "they are near."

There were a few muted cries of dismay from the Hobbits and a low curse from Gimli. Aragron, whose face could now be seen in the dim light, looked around him. "We must move from this place soon. If the Orcs are close we can perhaps find a place off the path to hide a while. We have a little time for I have seen Glandring glow brighter still. Faramir, I can see you are well, but tell me, how did you manage to open the doors?"

Everyone looked at Faramir and for a moment Frodo thought he saw a glow of pride in the man's face, though it quickly passed. "It was not all my doing. Gimli and Legolas were the true finders of the answer. They just didn't see it."

"I found it hard to concentrate on riddles as I was trying to do battle with the wolves and the snakes, unlike some people." Gimli's words were scornful but they held no real malice. They all knew that if Faramir hadn't figured out the password things would have gone worse for them at the door.

"I deemed it wiser to find the answer before all else for otherwise we would have been overwhelmed by the enemy. After all, Gimli, I joined the battle afterwards. But I felt it would be better for me to seek for the word first than join in the battle that Gimli seemed to have well under control." Frodo had seen Gimli's fall and knew exactly why the Dwarf's face flushed red at Faramir's words.

"But in the end it was Gimli who really saved the day," Faramir said, not wishing to be on the wrong side of an angry Dwarf for more than a second. "For if he had not saved Legolas from the creature, I would have never known the Elvish for friend." Frodo followed Faramir's eyes as he searched for Legolas to give him recognition.

Frodo hadn't even noticed the Elf's silence. In fact he now realised Legolas had been rather quiet all through that night. He was so used to Gimli's argument's with the Elf that when Gimli took up arguing with Faramir and Aragorn, nothing seemed amiss. Now his eyes travelled to where the Elf sat, slightly away from the rest, leaning against the wall.

"Legolas, forgive me, I quite forgot you were injured. How fare you?" Aragorn's tone was again regretful and the now obvious silence of the Elf must have disturbing him as much as it did Frodo. Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn's, and to Frodo they seemed black and dim. His pale face resumed its blank exterior as everyone looked at him.

"Thanks to Master Gimli I am quite alright." Frodo was surprised at the blankness in the usually musical voice and the abruptness of his words, but although everyone waited for Legolas to continue, the Elf obviously had no intention of doing so.

"But . . ." Gimli began, also ashamed he had not asked about the Elf. "Surely, your shoulder, and your back . . . You may be an Elf but not even you can walk away from an attack like that without a scar."

"My chest is bruised and the wound on my shoulder has reopened but other that that, I am
quite intact." From his tone, that was the end of the discussion, but Frodo was still concerned.

Faramir helped Gimli bandage his leg amid the Dwarf's continuous speal of threats to the creature that had shut the doors on them. While Aragorn insisted on looking at the Elf's shoulder, Frodo looked on inconspicuously as the man peeled away the bloody sleeve. It was not a pleasant sight.

Frodo knew well what it was like to have an injury on the shoulder where every movement becomes restricted and every action made more difficult. He felt again the burning pain as the Black Rider's knife cut into his own shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut at the recollection.

"And just as it was beginning to heal, too," Aragorn was saying grimly as he used a little of their precious water to clean the wound. "It is a great blow to all of us, without your bow we will . . "

"I am perfectly capable of using my bow," Legolas interrupted more sharply than usual.

Frodo thought he probably should not be listening but he remained where he was, fear and guilt eating slowly away at him. He almost wished he had gone alone, then everyone would not be in peril as they were now. But on the another hand, his relief at having so many true companions could not be expressed through words. He could not have wished for kinder or braver companions, friends, to help him on the most dangerous task that he had ever imagined.

Aragorn's eyes were fixed on the Elf in a look of concerned frustration, "think of how much worse you could make the injury if you aggravate it. Be wise, my friend, let it heal."

"If you think I would agree to stand there and watch while my friends are being attacked, you are mistaken. While I can be of any use I will do anything I can to protect the company."

Aragorn sighed in frustration and turned back to the main group. Frodo quickly averted his gaze so neither of the two would know he had been listening.

"Frodo, if you are recovered we will move on. I'm sure we are all anxious to get the journey over as quickly as possible.

"How long will it take?" Merry asked, while tying a bandage around Pippin's leg.

"Four or five days at the least," Aragorn said, "but I have not walked this path for many years and I remember little. It may take longer for us to decide our course than walk it. But for now our way is clear, up the stairs and along the passage. I will go ahead with Glamdring to light our way."

Faramir passed Aragorn the mighty blade, happy to be relieved of its weight. He had carried it without use, strapped to his back, since their descent from Caradhras for he had his own lighter, thinner sword. Aragorn would have been hard-pressed to carry two such heavy weapons although he had offered to. Frodo got wearily to his feet and followed the others up the stairs and into the darkness of Moria.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The dark room was shrouded in anger and power. They had escaped his grasp again, and this fool before him was still resisting. He looked with disgust at the body on the ground and even felt a twinge of pity. Pity that the Wizard could not see the foolishness of his stubborn refusals to tell him anything.

There had been one time Saruman thought he had won, just after the last words of defiance the old man had spoken almost two nights before. He had felt a change in the mental barrier that withheld the information he needed to become all powerful. He had even seen their faces in his mind. The faces of Gandalf's precious fellowship that he believed could win out against the darkness.

He had seen the undersized creatures Gandalf seemed to have so much faith in pass through the wizard's mind one by one, cheerful, curly haired beings, one of which defied him by carrying 'it'. Saruman would see the smiles wiped from their faces and laugh as Gandalf saw his beloved Halflings fall into darkness.

The Dwarf and the Elf passed by together, Saruman knew of the strange friendship between them through his previous observances of their journey. He smiled at the thought of them passing through Moria, he knew the Dwarf would relish the opportunity to see the halls of Durin but he was surprised Thranduil's son had agreed to even pass the doors. If he had the chance, Saruman would take pleasure in reminding the young Elf about his experiences as they passed through the dark. He must be far removed from the King of Mirkwood, who now seemed only to care of his wealth, and who would avoid the company of a Dwarf at all costs. Saruman was also amused that Gimli, the son of one of the Dwarves Thranduil had imprisoned, could even stand to be in presence of the young prince. Saruman had a plan for these two if ever he held them at Isengard. Through their cooperation, Saruman had a chance of gaining the alliance of the Mirkwood Elves and perhaps even the Dwaves of the Lonely Mountain. If they refused to oblige him in this he would use their friendship with each other to destroy them.

The next face to pass was that of the so-called King of Gondor, the one all Gandalf's hopes for a perfect world relied upon.

Saruman had seen something else in the man's face, although he tried hard not to believe he had seen it. He knew as he looked into those grey eyes that without a doubt this man had descended from the Kings of old. That his mere presence at the head of an army would be enough to drive the hosts of Mordor back to their shadow. Power was what he saw and it made him angry. But Saruman knew his chance to prevent this Ranger's rise to power was now, now before he could claim his birthright. Now, while he was his most vulnerable.

When they are brought to me, Saruman thought, never doubting that he would see the fellowship brought before his throne in Isengard. When he comes I will make certain he will never become that which Gandalf has prophesised. Perhaps when he sees the lies the old man has fed him, he will join me, lead 'my' armies. And if not, Saruman smiled, I will give him to Sauron as a gift of my good will. Saruman laughed out loud. The Dark Lord will never suspect my power that grows ever mightier. Unlike he, I know that beneath Moria lies a treasure more valuable than all the mithril ever found.

What Saruman found disturbing was that while Gandalf's thoughts had flashed by, he had never seen the face of the Steward's son. It was strange that while the faces of Denethor and his elder son passed, as what he thought was an indication of what was to come, the vision went blank and Saruman was still yet to see young Faramir's face. Saruman's plans for the young man were similar ones he had for the Elf, though more important. If Saruman could get Denethor on his side through Faramir's allegiance and counsel to his father, he would gain control of Gondor. From what he had been told about Denethor's younger son, Faramir was wise and had a great knowledge of lore. Surely a man such as he would see the wisdom Saruman offered. Again and again Saruman had been surprised that others did not understand his intentions. With a ruler such as himself, Middle Earth would flourish and the rebels who bred discontent would be crushed. Who could ask for a greater accomplishment? But Gandalf had not understood him and if Faramir turned out to be as was he called by his father, 'a Wizard's pupil,' Saruman would use him instead as a hostage and hope, for his sake, that Denethor would be wise enough to agree to his demands.

Of late the fellowship had been careful, as if they knew he was watching. They traveled at night when he could not watch and he had lost all sight them until he had heard they had passed through the gate of Durin.

Saruman worried that the ring, along with the company, might never escape the mines. The Orcs that dwelt in Moria were not under his control and would kill intruders without a thought. He suspected Sauron had sent many of his Uruk Hai into the mines, for what purpose, he knew not. The risk of losing the ring was great and Saruman was debating whether to send his own Orcs inside to make sure his ring was not lost. He knew also the chance that sending more intruders might create a war in the mines.

It was strange that Saruman's desire was to see the fellowship pass through the mines safely, when he hated each member with such vehemence. But once they passed into the light again and came at last through the Golden Wood. Then he would act . . .
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 17 - Holes and Pit-falls

The darkness was all consuming. Even Mirkwood at night could not match the terrible blackness of the mines. Legolas tried to walk as close as he could to the bright sword Aragorn held. Only Gimli and Frodo were between him and the flickering blue sign of hope. It was strange that their only hope should spring from their greatest fear.

Although a few of the others may have thought otherwise, Legolas would have preferred the constant threat of the Orcs than walk without light. In fact without light it would have proved an impossibility to make the journey for the path under their feet was scattered with holes and pit-falls that would have surely cause their deaths.

When they came to a crack running horizontally across their path, larger than any they had seen, Pippin simply refused to jump. Legolas could well understand this for although he knew he could easily make the distance, the sound of water, churning and tumbling below made even his legs weaken. They devised a strategy for the larger hazards, which involved Legolas and Faramir, who walked at the end of the party, throwing each Hobbit over the gaps into the safe arms of Aragorn and Gimli. This speeded up their journey for the Hobbits trusted their taller companions implicitly and it saved the trouble of building up enough courage to jump themselves.

Legolas walked in silence, as did most of the others. A growing terror was creeping upon the Elf's mind and although he tried hard not to show it, memories of their last encounter in the dark plagued his thoughts. His breath was short and uneven and he thought perhaps he had cracked a rib when he was thrown against the cliff. The air in the mines was cool and although it was thick, it did not seem foul. Legolas felt the air touch his wet clothes and for once he felt cold. Though the weather hardly ever affected him, as on Caradhras he had only felt a slight chill, it was the soaking shirt pulling on his shoulder that made him cold and uncomfortable.

His shoulder was proving to be more of a burden than he had at first thought. The burning feeling was constant and it prevented his mind from wandering off into more pleasant thoughts. He knew Aragorn would not take offence at what he had said before, his friend would realise he was only concerned for the safety of the company. He wanted to be of what use he could be although Legolas trusted Gimli, Aragorn and Faramir to keep them safe. In fact he was surprised that his preconceptions of the later had proved so unfounded.

Legolas had at first presumed Faramir to be like other men of the land, proud and with no thought for how their actions affected nature. But as they had spent more time together, Legolas perceived Faramir to be similar to Aragorn. In fact the air about each of them was so reminiscent of the other that some would have mistaken them as brothers. Looking closer one could see Aragorn was the one whose eyes held the power and grace of the Kings of old but because of Faramir's similarity to his friend, Legolas couldn't help beginning to respect him. He had been impressed with the man's actions at the gate as he actually showed a higher wisdom Legolas had believed to be rare among men. And his eye was as keen as Aragorn's with a bow, fine archery never failed to impress the Prince of Mirkwood who had been using a bow for longer than he could remember. A sharp stinging pain in his shoulder brought him out of his contemplations and back to the journey at hand. He was suddenly aware of a soft voice and listening harder he realised it was Frodo, muttering words mortal ears could not catch.

"So many passages and stairs. How could Aragorn possibly know the way? Nothing but darkness and the sound of our feet." The voice was small and afraid, Legolas' heart went out to the ill-fated Hobbit at once. He would have said something of comfort but he did not trust himself to speak. There was a lump in his throat that had been growing ever since they entered the mines.

"That's Gimli," Frodo said to himself, and Legolas also heard the Dwarf's heavy boots thudding on the stone.

"Aragorn and Faramir." Legolas was surprised Frodo could hear the man who walked so far back. Indeed Faramir's tread was almost as silent as Aragorn's, as Legolas had often noted when they walked from Rivendell. Legolas had also been pleased when he saw that Faramir took care not to tread upon any plants near the side of the paths and when it was his turn to find firewood, Faramir would often walk far, collecting dead wood, to avoid destroying the living trees around camp. This had greatly surprised Legolas and he began to doubt some of his previous convictions on men.

Frodo began to speak again and then Legolas heard him draw a sharp breath. "But who's that?" the Hobbit whispered. "Bare feet? Pattering alone. But not Hobbit feet!" Legolas listened hard and thought for a moment he had heard what the Hobbit claimed. "Oh, I must be imagining it," Frodo told himself and Legolas decided he must have been right. After all, what could be following them so closely without giving themselves away. Surely not an Orc, Legolas would have heard them long ago. Though, he thought, the giant Orc under Saruman's orders they had met in the tunnels possessed greater intelligence than Legolas would have credited to any of their hideous breed.

Perhaps they knew we would come and are lying in wait. What if this is all just a trap? Legolas shook his head, shaking the grim thoughts from his mind. The company was coming to a halt and it seemed as though Aragorn had decided to stay for some time.

From where the company stopped they could see the entrance of three passages leading ahead into darkness. They were in a kind of antechamber where the stones under their feet had been worn away with great use. Legolas eagerly laid down his supplies. His shoulder had been strained by the weight and he was glad for the chance to rest. With a great effort, he pushed the uncomfortable thoughts from his mind and went to speak to Aragorn.

"Are we where we should be?" Legolas asked, coming up silently behind him. He was surprised to see Aragorn start because usually Aragorn would not be caught of guard by anyone.

"Legolas," he breathed, "I did not know you were behind me."

"You are losing your touch, my friend," Legolas smiled, seeing Aragorn was a little on edge, he hoped to make him forget his trouble a while. "Surprised by an Elf? Next I will hear that Gimli has been climbing trees!"

Aragorn managed a week smile. "How are you fairing?" he asked the Elf and Legolas purposely avoided the question.

"I truly do not know how you find the right way in this cursed darkness," he said lightly, meaning it as a compliment. Aragorn's face remained grave and Legolas grew worried.

"I believe we are going in the right direction now but I truly have no memory of this place." Aragorn's voice was little more than a whisper and the man's eyes strayed fearfully to the three passages. Legolas knew Aragorn needed to share his burden with somebody and he was glad he held the Ranger's trust, but he wished Aragorn had told anyone but himself. It was enough in itself to cope with the darkness but knowing they were as good as lost made everything so much worse. The Elf begrudged Aragorn nothing for his confidence in him but he truly wished he had remained ignorant.

Legolas' eyes strayed to the side where Gimli and the Hobbits seemed to be exploring the entrance to a side chamber that he had not noticed. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see further into the cave. Frodo hand held a glowing Sting and from its light Legolas saw with sudden horror what was inside. His eyes widened as he realised Gimli's poor sight had not picked up what his own keen eyes had seen. Gimli wandered through the entrance, examining the stone work on the walls, with no idea of the danger he was in.

"Gimli! Daro!" [Stop!]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faramir was a few steps behind the Dwarf when he heard Legolas' cry. Although he did not understand the meaning he knew it was a warning. He had come to take the Elf's instincts as law so he rushed forwards towards the retreating Dwarf. Gimli either had not heard the Elf or had chosen to ignore him for he walked forwards without so much as a turn of his head.

"Gimli!" Faramir shouted, realising he would not reach the Dwarf before he had passed some steps into the chamber.

Faramir flung himself forwards towards the Dwarf's flailing arm as Gimli's yell echoed around the enclosed space. Faramir felt the touch of Gimli forearm and gripped it tightly before Gimli's weight dragged him down.

In the centre of the chamber was a well, immeasurably deep, obviously used by the guard who protected the three passages. Faramir's head and shoulders disappeared into the hole as he struggled to keep a grip of Gimli's arm. Small rocks and pebbles scattered from underneath his sliding body and crumbled into the pit. Faramir listened with dread but never heard them hit the bottom.

He clenched his jaw, determined that the amazingly heavy Dwarf would not be cast after the stones. Gimli's weight must have been partly due to his heavy chain mail as well as the axe that was most likely still in his belt. Faramir called out with difficulty for Aragorn as he felt himself slowly sliding further into the hole. Already his upper body was stretched down as far as he could reach. His hand was slippery and his hold on Gimli's arm was failing.

He heard a rush behind him and out of the corner of his eye, saw Aragorn fling himself down beside him and reach for Gimli's other hand.

"Aragorn, I cannot hold him!" Faramir gasped, as Aragorn tried to catch onto Gimli's other hand that he was waving around in the darkness.

Although it was pitch black, Gimli could obviously understand what was happening as each time Faramir's body slipped further, he was lowered down. "Let go, Faramir!" the Dwarf bellowed, knowing that at least one of them would be saved if he just let go now.

"Give me your hand, Gimli!" Aragorn yelled. "I cannot see!"

With desperation closing in on him, Faramir heard a scuffle behind him before two slim, strong hands came down on top of his own.

"I have you Gimli," Legolas' voice said in his ear and to his right he heard Aragorn's sigh of relief as he managed to catch a hold of Gimli's other arm.

With all three lying on their stomachs and reaching down into the black pit Faramir became aware of how foolish they must look. Aragorn counted and on three, they all heaved the massive bulk of a Dwarf back to safety.

Everyone lay on the floor breathing heavily for a moment until to Faramir's surprise, Legolas began to laugh. Aragorn quickly joined in and Faramir looked around for the object of their amusement. His eyes came to rest on Gimli.

He shook his head in disbelief, "do you mean to tell me, Gimli son of Gloin, that you were willing to drag us both to our deaths because you were not willing to part with your axe?"

Gimli looked confusedly down at the axe clutched in his hand, "this axe has been with me as long as I can remember," he said, growing red and flushed.

Faramir burst out laughing. The look on his friend's face clearly said that Gimli had not even noticed he had been holding his weapon. No wonder Aragorn found it hard to catch his hand.

When they calmed down, Faramir lay still for a moment, listening to the heavy breathing of his companions and the quiet whispers of Merry and Pippin, who, now that the danger had passed, were no doubt thinking of happier things. Faramir knew their conversation would be running along the lines of the companies food supplies, and the amount of good a pipe and a some Old Toby could be to a foot-sore Hobbit so far from home.

His ears suddenly picked up another sound, echoing in the dark.

Tom-tap tom-tap.

A horrible shiver ran up his spine and Gimli jumped to his feet and went quickly to the well to listen. The others followed him cautiously, all hoping their ears had decieved them.

"That was the sound of a hammer, or I've never heard one," Gimli said, staring down into the dark hole that had nearly swallowed him a moment before.

Faramir looked to Aragorn and saw the man's face was darker than he had ever seen it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tom-tap tom-tap

Faramir was alone in the dark. Where the others were he did not know, to him there was only the sound of the hammer. Faramir narrowed his eyes in the darkness, searching for the illusive sound that seemed first to come from in front, then behind and then both! With each clash of the invisible hammer, he felt an echo of cold and fear rush through his body.

A shimmering shape suddenly emerged in the silent darkness before him. Faramir squinted in an effort to make out what it was. He breathed in sharply as he recognised the shape for what it was.

"Gimli?" he called, unsure whether his eyes were deceiving him. But although the stout figure did not turn to the sound of his voice or make any movement indicating he had heard, Faramir wasn't sure whether it was the Dwarf who stood before him.

Gimli was busy using his axe to chip away at some stones just out of Faramir's sight. The Dwarf raised his axe over and over again as the axe fell with a crash onto the rocks. He recognised Gimli's helm and dark reddish hair protruding from beneath it, he saw it was indeed Gimli's axe that struck the stone.

"Gimli? Gimli!" Why did the Dwarf not respond to his calls? Was the darkness of the mines so terrible that it could cut off sound as well as sight?

Faramir moved forwards, determined to take his friend by the shoulders and get a plain answer. He moved to the side so as the approach the Dwarf without fear of being impaled by the swinging end of Gimli's axe. But as he moved, it was as though Gimli moved too, turning away from him. Faramir moved faster but to no avail, it was as though the Dwarf before him had no face! He stopped dead, his heart hammering in his chest and fear racing through him. He listened with dread to the falling of the axe, noticing at once that the sound had changed. The high-pitched clash of metal on rock had dulled and seemed now to Faramir like distant drums. The noise grew louder and soon he had to press his hands over his ears to block out the terrible drumming.

Drums in the Deep

In panic Faramir reached out and grabbed the Dwarf's shoulder. A blinding light filled his mind and images flashed before him in a whirl of colour and turmoil.

Two slender boats, filled with bags and belongings, rushing swiftly towards a great waterfall. The white spray hiding them from view.

A being hooded in a brown cloak stood before a tower black as night. Metallic wheels and dark machines surrounding the base as creatures, twisted and mutilated prowled the boundaries.

A King. Crowned and robed in fine coloured clothes of green. Great anger was in the ancient face and in his eyes a lust for revenge or retribution. In his hands lay two objects. One, a golden book, adorned with silver writing and Elvish ruins, the other, a thick black arrow stained with dark blood.

His own father, Denethor, sitting on his throne with the great horn, Boromir's horn lying upon his lap. Broken.
 

Review this Chatper

Chapter 18 - Pity

A chill wind blew through the tunnels and passages of Moria, whistling and shrieking as though chased by a creature of the underworld. Pippin pulled his blanket up further as though the think material could ward away the evils of the night.

He remembered when he was many years younger, lying in his comfy bed back in the Shire and being terrified the gremlin that he was sure dwelt under it would reach up and grab him. He had pulled the sheet up and over his head so the gremlin could never touch him. How much he would give now *only* to have to worry about invisible gremlins!

The whistling of the wind chilled his blood and he felt alone and defenceless sitting in the dark. Gimli's loud snoring, usually an annoyance, made Pippin feel less alone but he wished someone else would come and sit with him while he watched. He would have woken Merry but he knew his friend needed all the sleep he could get.

He shifted his body and winced as the cut on his leg began to sting again. His mind was haunted with the bodies and faces of the wolves they had fought. He wondered if Merry felt the same way. Probably not, Merry was so much braver than he. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the horrible, snarling face with its sharp and bloody teeth. He shivered and almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

" . . Frodo! You gave me such a fright," Pippin slowed his breathing with an effort and looked up into his cousin's pale face. "What is it? Is anything wrong?"

"You did not wake me for my watch, I thought perhaps you'd . . ." Frodo stopped, fearing he might offend Pippin if he continued.

"Fallen asleep on guard? Frodo, I may be just a burden to everyone but I would never . ."

"I didn't mean that, Pip, I just woke up myself and I wasn't referring just to you. Everyone is exhausted. You have done well to keep your eyes open this long. You have taken some of my watch too."

"Oh don't worry about that," Pippin said, back to his old self, "you deserve more sleep that all of us." Frodo was about to protest but instead he ushered Pippin to lie down and himself took his cousin's position a few metres away from the group.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After some minutes of solitude with only Gimli's snores and the quiet breathing of his friends to keep him company, Frodo's thoughts turned to Aragorn. The ranger had been unusually tense and silent since they arrived at the gate to the three passages and Frodo was sure it was the road ahead that troubled him. Aragorn had himself told them that it was Gandalf's purpose to go through the Mines and not attempt the Red Horn pass. It had been Aragorn who had convinced their guide to venture up into the snowy pass where Gandalf had been lost to them. Frodo was sure the guilt of this must lie heavy upon his friend who had only ever thought of their safety.

The other thought in Frodo's mind was that although he had never said so, Aragorn would not know the way as well as Gandalf did and perhaps they were already headed in the wrong direction.

Frodo glanced over at Aragorn's form, his blanket had become twisted around his body from the constant tossing and turning. If Frodo could manage it, he would prevent Aragorn from being woken for his watch. So much depended of his memory and senses that lack sleep might cause their destruction.

Frodo's eyes swept over the rest of the company. Merry and Sam were sleeping soundly, wrapped tightly in their blankets for the night air was bitterly cold. Pippin must have fallen asleep the minute Frodo tucked him in.

Gimli lay on his back, the glint of his armour showing from beneath his cover. Frodo shook his head, how could the Dwarf possibly sleep wearing chain mail? It was a comfort though, Gimli at least would be ready for any danger even when he slept.

Legolas lay upon his blanket, his bow close beside him. He would have to be freezing without a cover, Frodo thought. Even Elves must feel this deadly chill. He was lying on his side, which also worried Frodo, for in all the time he had known Legolas, he had always slept on his back.

Faramir was the closest to him, his blanket had fallen off and Frodo went forward to help. He knew his friend would feel the effects of the cold in the morning if he did not wake from it now. Frodo reached out gently and dragged the cover back over the man's body. He breathed in sharply when Faramir moved in his sleep, reaching out and catching Frodo's arm. The grip was horribly tight and Frodo saw the anguish in his friend's face. His eyelids flickered with the hidden dreams that were passing through the man's mind, and Frodo wondered whether he was dreaming about his home, his family, perhaps his brother. Frodo had grown to like Boromir from what Faramir had told him, an ideal elder sibling. Strong, loyal, protective, and a born leader. Frodo envied those who had such family to love, for being an orphan, he had none. His thoughts turned then to Bilbo and a great warmth mixed with sadness flooded through him. Faramir grip grew tighter and Frodo was about to shake him awake to rid him of the nightmare, when the grip on his arm loosened and Faramir's body relaxed.

Somewhat shaken, Frodo returned to the rock he had been sitting on and pulling his own blanket around him. He sat there for more than half an hour, thinking that it was almost time to wake the next watcher. Frodo hadn't been listening carefully when Aragorn told them the order, but he was almost sure it was Aragorn's turn next. In that case, he didn't intend waking the ranger and hoped Aragorn did not wake on his own. He sat there, listening to the wind rushing through the caves and after a moment or two, he thought he heard another sound, a low hissing. Frodo's eyes opened wide and he looked around nervously. Two pale lights stared at him from the shadows, he started, then blinked. The lights were gone.

Frodo drew a shaky breath, knowing his fears of the past days to be confirmed. The air shifted close to his ear and he spun quickly, his hand on sting's hilt.

"Be still," Legolas whispered next to his ear, and Frodo breathed out sharply, letting sting fall back into its sheath. "Something is close."

Frodo looked up at the tense Elf, he was frightened to voice his fears because it would make them all the more real. "He is still following us."

Legolas started and looked down at him. The name did not need to be spoken, both could see the dark shape moving less than two metres away. The Elf shot forwards, gripping his knife with white fingers.

"Legolas!" Frodo hissed, wondering in panic why none of the others had woken. He rushed forwards and gasped when he caught sight of the creature.

It was backed up against the rock wall, like a spider in a dark corner. Legolas stood close baring its escape and Frodo had never seen his friend look so shaken. The Elf's face had blanched white and his eyes burned with such anguish as he had never seen.

Gollum was a pitiful creature and Frodo's dark imaginings of the twisted, evil creature who pursued them were disappointed. Frodo was both relieved and disturbed by this revelation. Obviously the creature had been through much pain and torment, Frodo could see it in his bulbous eyes, and he wondered how much was occasioned to the ring. Gollum was whimpering and trying to slink further back into the darkness. His whole body seemed to blend with the dark and Frodo recalled the stories Bilbo had told him of the deadly competition they had held beneath the Misty Mountains. Bilbo had felt pity for the creature.


~What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance! ~

~I do not feel any pity for Gollum.~

~You have not seen him.~


And now I see him, Frodo thought sadly of Gandalf's wise words to him so long ago, I do pity him. The creature still made him afraid, but now Frodo felt compassion. Gollum was once a Hobbit-like being, and now a creature of the darkness, shying away from both sun and moon. Endless years of torment in the dark, fearing the dark, but hating the light more, and most of all the ring.

Frodo could feel his eyes upon him. Gollum knew, he knew what lay under the thin material of his shirt. Gollum knew he was trapped and with that knowledge came desperation. With a shriek Gollum changed from a sniveling weakling to a dangerous beast. He had far more speed than Frodo had given him credit for and it managed to skirt around Legolas' body and fly straight at Frodo.

Frodo gave a strangled cry of fear as he was knocked off his feet. Gollum was on top of him, hissing and scrabbling for what he knew was there. "He hass it, he hass it! Its oursss, my precious and you sstole it!"

Frodo heard his shirt tear as Gollum was pulled away by Legolas and thrown against the wall. He felt the urge to cry but held it back with a great effort. He scrambled to his feet and moved towards the others to get help.

Legolas had his back turned to Frodo and he held his bow so that the arrow almost touched Gollum's black skin. "No, Frodo. It will end here and now."

The words were spoken with such heavily controlled anger that Frodo stopped and turned back. Gollum was cringing on the ground, trying to squirm away from the arrow that was aimed steadily less than an inch from his face.

"He will never be able to harm another creature on this earth," Frodo stood frozen as the bow string tightened, "this is for the Elves who lost their lives to your Orc friends, Sméagol, this is for the wound you gave me both outside and in . . "

"They are not our friendss, no, we hatess them, nassty orcs!" Gollum's protests did nothing to change Legolas' resolve.

"This is for you, Frodo, and all you will achieve." The Elf's finger loosened on the bow-string and time seemed to stand still.


~He is bound up with the fate of the ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill~


"No!" Frodo dashed forwards, crashing into the Elf and knocking him off balance. The arrow went askew and ricocheted off the roof of the tunnel. Frodo landed on top of Legolas and felt the Elf tense with pain as his shoulder was crushed beneath him. Gollum sprang to his feet and disappeared into the dark, leaving the wisdom or folly of his choice to haunt the young Hobbit in the days to come.

~The PITY of Bilbo may rule the fate of many, yours not least~
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 19 - Moonlight

There was a full moon that night. But the figure who threaded his way through the ancient trees at the edge of the forest border was careful to avoid the silver light. The hooded cloak shaded him from unwelcome eyes, its deep brown hue blending with the undergrowth. The oppressive nature of the forest made the stranger feel uneasy and more than anything, unwelcome.

His own home, Rhosgobel, was situated close to another forest, in some ways even more deadly than this. But Mirkwood's evil was not veiled such as this place, the evil creatures that dwelt in Mirkwood's southern regions were clear and obvious. Visitors could prepare themselves for what they knew dwelt there. Fangorn was different. There was no animals to be seen, and yet he felt as though he was being watched. What disturbed him most was the lack of birds. The forest canopy was so thick and dark he could not imagine any creature surviving without the sun. The plant life, all except the tremendous trunks that stretched up to the deep green leaves seemed to be smothered. There was no wind, not even the smallest breeze could penetrate the thick, stuffy air.

He was not a traveller, and when he did journey it was only in the upmost need. However much he disliked leaving his home, the guilt and responsibility of his current task had forced the journey upon him. Though not directly involved with the events, he knew he held some responsibility to put them right again. And if his mission took him to Fangorn, where he was separated from the birds and beasts he loved most, he would hold firm until his task was completed, or he failed in the attempt.

He raised his brown eyes to the way ahead, sharpening his senses as he ventured further into the forest. He was weary and desperately in need of sleep, but he was nearing the end of his journey, and could not let fatigue endanger his safety now. He had left his home on the morning 4 days ago, and walked only when the sun was below the horizon. Sleeping during the daylight hours did not agree with him and he had slept badly.

But if he could find what he was looking for, his journey would be worth the loss of sleep.

There was a small glade ahead, bathed in the moonlight that the oppressive canopy had dimmed everywhere else. In the glade, the trees were younger than all the rest he had seen, and their leaves lighter, letting in the bright glow of the moon. He felt strangely drawn to the silent place, though he was weary as well, for he knew well that seeming safe, and being safe, were often two very different things.

He moved cautiously, keeping in the shadows around the edge of the clearing. Living near Mirkwood, and watching as growing darkness of Dol Guldur spread across the whole of the forest had made him suspicious.

He suddenly realised the wood was not as silent as it had been before he entered. There was strange whispers and a creaking and groaning like the boughs of trees being moved after years without wind. He turned slowly, scanning the area for what had caused the disturbance. At first he could see nothing, though the shadows on the left of the clearing seemed darker than before. He took a few steps forward, hoping he might have at last found what he sought.

There was an old tree among the shadows, with limbs and boughs thinner than others he had seen. Its leaves moved slowly, though there was no wind. A great wave of fear swept over him as the tree seemed to grow darker, clouded in shadow. And then it was gone. The whole tree was simply gone. The spot where it had grown before was empty, teasing him as though the lithe trunk he had seen with his own eyes had never existed.

The hissing began again, and this time the sound seemed to contain words. He was not sure whether it was his knowledge of plant lore and experience that gave him an insight into the words of the trees, but he could distinguish the individual words.

"Not an Orc, not an Elf . . . then what is it? In our forest, our forest . . ." He took a step backwards, away from the hissing voice. His back suddenly collided with the bark of a tree and he spun around, knowing that there had been no tree there before. It was the dark tree, and somehow it had moved so quickly he had not seen it come behind him. It was still wrapped in shadows and its leaves moved eerily in the still air.

He could feel the malice and hate radiating from the creature, something had happened to make it approach him, and even though he did not know what the creature may be, he knew he was in danger.

Before he could move away, he felt of of the creature's roots close about his ankle, and even as he tried to free it, a thin branch curled about his arm. The tree-creature moved swiftly, but the shadow around it disguised its movements so it seemed not to be changing at all. He struggled with the hold on his arm, and tried desperately to free himself. His staff was wrenched from his hand before he could put it to any use, and more branches stretched out with unbelievable speed. A thick branch snaked around his chest and began crushing him.

He had no idea why the tree wanted to kill him, and even if he had wanted to plead with it to stop, the grip around his body was so tight even breathing was near to impossible.

His vision blurred, and he gasped for air. He felt himself begin to slip away, and directed his last thoughts to his cousin, 'I am sorry, Gandalf. I have failed you.'

Suddenly the hold on his body was gone and he slipped to the forest floor. A great booming voice filled the clearing, and broke into his spinning thoughts.

"Hoom!" The voice of thunder shook the very ground he lay upon, but he did not even have the strength to raise his head and see the creature that had almost killed him slink back into the forest in its shadowy form.

"Now, what have we here?" the loud voice rumbled, and he thought perhaps this was it. He had found what he had been searching for. He dragged himself to his feet, brushing the dry leaves from his brown cloak. He looked up at the towering tree-like figure and lowered his head in a bow.

"Fangorn, it is an honour." he was breathless, but determined to give the ancient creature the respect it deserved. "I have come to your mighty forest to ask for the aid of you and your Ents. I come in my cousin's place, for I feel he would ask you for this were he here. I am Radagast the Brown."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam Gamgee was no fool. No sir, he knew something was up. Ever since they had woken for breakfast there had been a tenseness in the air that made the whole business of companionship uncomfortable. No one was speaking, Gimli had made a half-hearted attempt to start a discussion on the subject of rock floors being a benefit to your home, but finding no one else eager to reply, or argue with, he trailed off and started grumbling. Even Merry and Pippin had been remarkably subdued. The darkness of Moria was taking its toll upon everyone and even the two voracious Hobbits had felt the oppressive stillness.

But it was Frodo Sam was most worried about. His master sat against the far wall, where he had been ever since Sam had woken. Strider had walked up to him ealier and Sam suspected the ranger's words had not been comforting. Strider had drawn away with a stern face and slightly slumped shoulders. Frodo's face had been white and his eyes wide, staring but Sam without seeing.

'It wouldn't be right to force Mr Frodo to tell me," Sam said to himself. 'The master will tell me in time, and if not, he'll have a good reason for doing so.' But Sam's resolution held less than a minute as another wave of doubt and fear washed over him.

'Surely he would have told me if he was ill,' Sam glanced over at Frodo who was picking away at the merge rations they had shared.

Like Frodo, Sam could not make himself eat, he knew he would need the energy once Aragorn's decision was made and they were off, but his worry left him with no appetite.

Something had happened during the night, he was sure of it. 'Drat me twice over for not keeping a closer eye on him," Sam chastised himself. 'Still, there's no use cryin' over spilt milk as my old Gaffer would say. But what's to be done about it, that's the question. I could try talking to him, but when Mr Frodo is intent on keeping something hidden, I'll soon as bet it will stay that way.'

He sat there musing about it, fiddling with the straps on his pack. He sniffed, recognising the foul smell that had been lingering around the anti chamber all the time they had been there. How he wished they could move on! Surely Strider had some idea of the way. Once they all got moving he felt sure everyone's spirits would rise once more. Why didn't Aragorn decide quickly? Perhaps he was troubled by the same thing as Frodo, the ranger's face had looked rather drawn and pale of late. Sam felt a small pang of jealousy, why should Aragorn share in Frodo's secret and not himself?

He dismissed the thought quickly. He looked over to where Strider was standing at the entrance to the three passages. His brow was creased with worry and his dirt-smudged face set in a hard expression. From what Sam had seen, Frodo had not revealed any more to the ranger than he had to himself. 'But surely someone must know what had happened!'

He narrowed his eyes and looked around. Gimli? Surely not, the Dwarf was not acting any different to usual, if he knew something, he was hiding it well. He watched as the Dwarf set down his plate and wandered back to the main group, apparently restless.


He prodded Faramir in the back, "What in the world are you moping about?" Gimli asked, exasperated. "When you have the splendour of the Dwarf halls about you. Though they are dark now, I thought you at least would be interested in our architecture. You've often asked me about it."

"Not now, Gimli," Faramir replied, without even an attempt at being friendly. Gimli laid a heavy hand on the man's shoulder and Sam could see the glint of interest in his eyes.

"What ails you, friend? Perhaps someone will explain to me why everyone is so dull."

Faramir shrugged his hand off unceremoniously. "Please, Gimli. I need to think."

Sam looked up. Now this was something out of the ordinary, Faramir in a bad mood. Though he seemed to be keeping his thoughts to himself, he had not once glanced at Frodo.

Sam was confused again, what could have happened during the night to make Frodo so frightened and pale, and Faramir grumpy? He cursed himself again for not staying awake. 'But sure enough I was bone tired last night, ready to drop. Even I can't stay off sleep like an Elf.'

An Elf. Now that was an idea. His eyes searched rapidly, scanning the area. It never ceased to amaze Sam the way Elves could just blend into the background if they did not want to be seen. At last he saw him, Legolas was standing against the wall not far away from Frodo. And from what Sam could see, the Elf had his eyes fixed on his Master.

Disturbing thoughts coursed through Sam's mind. Could the Elf have been the cause of Mr Frodo's distress? Was the ring involved? Ah, what happened during the night that could have made the Fellowship so distant towards eachother? Sam wondered whether Elves had any desire for the ring of power, surely not, master Elrond himself ordered it to be taken to the fire.

Sam fixed a hard gaze on Legolas, determined to put a stop to what ever was going on behind his back. Could someone so fair be evil inside? After all, the ring was beautiful and that was why it was so deadly. But looking upon the Elf's face, Sam could not make himself think there was any evil intent. Legolas' gaze clearly spoke of pity and compassion, but there was something else.

Sam considered himself a decent judge of character, and even the incident at the Prancing Pony with Strider had not damaged his faith in his own judgement. There was something else in the Elf's gaze behind the kindness. Something hidden and yet as strong as the other qualities. Guilt.

Enough was enough. He was going to find out what had happened even if he hurt Frodo's faith in him in the process. It was hard for Sam to believe any Elf could do wrong, after meeting Elrond, Glorfindell and the rest, Legolas himself included until suspicion cast its shadows. But Bilbo's stories about the Elves of Mirkwood came suddenly back into his mind, the Elvenking, Legolas' own father's imprisonment of the thirteen Dwarves, and he made up his mind that he would get to the bottom of it.
 

Review this Chapter

Chapter 20 - Drums in the Deep

The eyes were still watching him. He could feel them boring into his back as he walked. Sam Gamgee was one very astute Hobbit, you had to give him that. Legolas knew Frodo would never have mentioned the Gollum incident to Sam without everyone else coming to know about it. No. He had worked it out himself somehow.

But the Elf was feeling the best he had for several days. Not even Sam's suspicions could cast the shadow back upon him, at least for a little while. Aragorn had chosen the left-hand passage, wisely it had proved for they had come at last to the upper halls. The claustrophobic walls had suddenly dissipated and opened out into a cavernous space.

Great window-shape hollows lined one side of the amazing hall, and through these hollows, slanting beams of light shone downward.

Legolas stepped gratefully into the thin beam of sunshine. Specs of dust floated near him, illuminated by the bright sun above. He felt the golden glow of of the sun upon his skin, rejuvenating him after the days in only darkness. But there was a cold draft in the hall, and the others seemed to want to move on quickly.

"It can't be far to the eastern side now!" Gimli proclaimed. "From here we must get down to the level of the bridge and then out into the sun again!" He gave Legolas a meaningful glance and the Elf appreciated the gesture.

"What bridge do you speak of?" Sam asked, his attention momentarily drawn away from the Elf.

"The bridge of Khazâd-dûm, young Hobbit! The ancient defence of our people." Gimli leaned forward while Sam, Merry and Pippin gathered around him. "The chasm beneath the eastern gate is of a depth immeasurable," the Dwarf began in a low, suspenseful voice, "and the bridge, it is so narrow that dwarves and enemies alike can only pass across it in single file!"

Legolas felt a sudden rush of gratification to the Dwarf. Sam was so intrigued by the Dwarf's words that he had forgotten to keep his eyes on the Elf. Legolas let himself relax while Gimli went on with his descriptions, sinking into a crouch and closing his eyes. Moria had affected him more than he would have liked to admit. His strength was depleted, and would remain that way until the fellowship escaped the mines.

He could not blame Sam for being suspicious. The worst of it was that his suspicions were justified. Legolas had acted foolishly and placed upon Frodo a burden he should not have had to carry. The Elf had his reasons for wanting to kill Gollum, just as Frodo had to protect him. But the fellowship had sworn their allegiance to the ring bearer, and Frodo's word was what mattered. He would have to tell Aragorn what had happened. There was no other choice. Frodo had protected him this far, but no longer.

"Do the storytelling skills of the Dwarves equal those of the Elves?" The voice startled Legolas slightly. His eyes flew open to find Faramir standing over him. The Elf rose quickly, realising just how long he had been crouching. Gimli's story had now become a verse of some sort, and to Legolas' surprise it was quite pleasant to listen to.

Legolas wondered what Faramir wanted to talk to him about. It was rare for either of them to instigate a conversation with the other. Upon meeting the man's eyes, Legolas felt as though Faramir could see right through him. Legolas prided himself on being able to hide his feelings, but with Faramir's undivided attention focused upon him, he felt vulnerable. The Elf shifted his position, uncomfortable under the steady gaze.

Faramir said nothing at first, perhaps waiting for the Elf to reveal what was on his mind. Legolas was unwilling to speak openly of his thoughts, at least until he had spoken to Aragorn. The closeness between Faramir and his King was unsettling to Legolas. He felt he could trust both openly, yet knew that the man who stood before him now was intelligent enough to be a valuable ally . . or a dangerous enemy. So far he had seen nothing to suspect treachery, but it was always wise to keep ones eyes open with dealing with men.

Sensing Legolas was unwilling to talk, Faramir began the conversation himself, "Samwise it unusually quiet today, I wonder what is on his mind."

Legolas tried to remain blank as Faramir searched his face for a reaction. Legolas cursed the man for his astuteness. "Perhaps he is anxious leave the Mines," Legolas suggested.

Faramir paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Perhaps."

It was a deadly game they were playing. A game Legolas did not intend to lose. "Gimli will be disappointed. You are missing his song."

The man smiled grimly, yet there was a strange twist to the smile Legolas had seen there before. Determination. The Elf turned away, anxious to be out of the uncomfortable conversation. Faramir's hand gripped his shoulder and forced him round to face him.

"You do not trust me," the man said, a statement rather than a question.

"I do not," Legolas found himself saying, despite the hurt he could see in Faramir's eyes.

"I would not approach you were I not troubled by what is becoming of our Fellowship," Faramir said in a low voice. "The night . . . that night, I dreamt, I dreamt many things." the man's eyes clouded over and Legolas felt himself strangely worried for him. "I dreamt," Faramir went on, "of the rocks that were scattered into the pit when Gimli almost fell two days ago, I saw him turn his back on us, hammering into the rock - I heard drums, drums in the deep." The words flowed freely, and Legolas could see the frightened doubt in the man's eyes.

"Have you told Aragorn of this?" Legolas asked softly.

"Nay, I do not wish to trouble him further. I have told no one but you."

A cold look came over Legolas's face for a moment. What it all just a trick to make him feel guilty enough to reveal his secret? He looked into the man's eyes. No, sincerity and concern lay behind the gaze. Faramir was telling the truth.

Legolas took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully, "on the night you speak of, I relieved Frodo from his watch. Gollum was watching us from the shadows."

"Gollum? Here?" Faramir hissed, "I never thought . . . Then he has followed us all the way through the mines?"

"So it seems," Legolas nodded. "Though I would ask you not to speak of it, at least . . at least until I may speak to Aragorn."

Faramir nodded, his forehead creased in worry. "I prey that you do so quickly, our safety may depend upon it. Perhaps you need not tell him all, just as much as you have told me."

Legolas stared after him as Faramir moved back to the main group. How did he guess the Elf had not told him the entire story? Legolas followed the man reluctantly, half expecting the others to begin questioning him. But Faramir was true to his promise and said nothing.

"You did not hear my song!" Gimli complained as the Elf approached.

"I am truly sorry Gimli. Faramir was telling me of his halls in Minas Tirith, and how they are much finer than those of the Dwarves."

"Gimli's face grew red with indignation. "Is this true?" he demanded, staring up at the tall man beside him. Legolas held his breath.

"Master Elf mistook my meaning, Gimli," Faramir smiled, his eyes flicking to Legolas'. Again Legolas thought how dangerous this man could be if his intentions were evil. The laughter was put on, and behind the smiling eyes lay a stern demand for Legolas to tell Aragorn before the deception could grow any greater. "What I did say," Faramir went on, "was that although the Halls of my father may be grand, they are nothing to the works and skills of the Dwarves.

Gimli puffed out his chest proudly and gave Legolas a haughty look. "You see, Elf? My human friend recognises true architecture when he sees it."

"Over here," a shrill voice shouted, and was immediately joined by another, "look what we've found!"

"Be careful!" Aragorn shouted back, "you do not know what may be inside. Here, I will enter first."

Legolas followed Faramir and Gimli through the northern archway. They found themselves in thin corridor, and following the voices they came to where the Hobbits were gathered around a stone doorway standing half open. Aragorn drew his sword, reaching out to push open the door. Legolas reached for his bow, seeing Faramir do the same from the corner of his eye. The door was old and almost falling apart on its hinges. As it creaked loudly open, dust and webs fell from it in a cloud, starting the Hobbits coughing.

All of a sudden there was a cry from Gimli, and the Dwarf was pushing forwards through the doorway.

"Gimli!" Faramir shouted as the dwarf moved into the room beyond. There could be no telling what dangers lay in the room, nor what had possessed Gimli to enter it alone. Legolas raised his bow and followed Aragorn as the Ranger went after the Dwarf.

The room was bathed in a eerie glow, so bright that at first they had to shield their eyes. Another of the hollows high in the wall cast a beam of light down upon a white stone slab in the centre of the room. Gimli knelt before the stone, one arm across his chest, and tears in his eyes.

"He is dead then," Faramir said softly. The letters on the tomb were unintelligible to the Elf, and he wondered how the man had deciphered them. It was the tomb of someone important, and from Gimli's grief Legolas guessed the one lying dead was known to his friend. He layed a gentle hand on the Dwarf's shoulder, giving what little comfort he could.

"I feared it was so since we entered the Mines," Gimli sniffed, "At first I thought Balin had never come here, but now I see. There has been no sound of Dwarvish hammers here for many months." The words of Faramir's dream came suddenly back to Legolas.

~I saw him turn his back on us, hammering into the rock~

"We must leave this place," Legolas said quietly. "Something dark approaches, we have to get out."

"Look at this!" Pippin exclaimed, holding up a dusty book that seemed to be the only thing the Orcs had not plundered.

"Show it to me," Aragorn said sternly, relieving Pippin of its weight. The pages crumbled in his fingers as he quickly turned the yellowed pages. "It seems to be a diary of some kind," he said slowly, "and yet, yes, here you see? It just ends with this trailing line of letters."

   'They have taken the bridge and the second hall,' Aragorn read slowly.
   'they are coming! - drums in the deep'
   'we cannot get out!           they         are          coming . . .'



Silence echoed around the room as all the fellowship imagined the horrible deaths of the Dwarves trapped in this very chamber.

"Horrible," Merry said at last, his voice filled with an indescribable terror.

"We must leave now," Legolas whispered, "now, Aragorn, while we still . . ."

From far below them, it seemed, though drawing closer every moment, a sound like the beating of drums.

There was a ringing sound as Frodo drew sting half from its scabbard. The blade was glowing with a blue fire. "They are coming," Frodo whispered.

"Drums in the Deep." It was Faramir who had spoken, and looking across at him Legolas saw that all the colour had drained from his face. "I should have heeded the warnings," the man said quietly, "and now we are trapped, trapped just as the Dwarves were before us."

"We cannot get out!" Gimli shouted, listening at the door for the sounds of feet rushing up the stairs. "They are coming!"

Legolas suddenly felt his stomach turn. The words, just as they had been written. Drums in the deep, we cannot get out, they are coming . . . History was repeating itself, here in this chamber of death. Gimli had uttered to dying words of his cousins, so too would they be the epitaph of the fellowship if they did not escape at once!

"Slam the doors and wedge them!" Aragorn shouted to Gimli, obviously fearing a surprise attack from the eastern door.

"No!" Faramir stopped Gimli before the Dwarf could bar the door. "Aragorn, we cannot shut ourselves in! We will be trapped as they were before us!"

Aragorn did not need to consider. "Leave the east door open, we will go that way! Gimli, Faramir, bar the other door. Though I fear it will not hold for long. Ready yourselves, the battle approaches!"

Already the floor was shaking with the pounding of heavy feet upon the stairs below. Legolas felt something black approaching, his heart sank under its evil. He steadied his bow in his shaking hands, knowing that if he faltered, he would die here in the dark, never to see the moon or stars again . . .
 

Review this Chapter

Back to Top

Read on to chapter21