Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

Through the long dark journey of Moria we had managed to spend precious time in the upper levels of the mountain halls; what would have been the dining hall. It had large, magnificent windows and faded tapestries on the walls. Within each column were the holes laid for the countless jewels Moria was famous for; but very few remained, and those that did were covered with layers of dust. The same could be said for the windows; the glass was covered with a plethora of cobwebs, forcing the sunlight to fight its way through. And even after its fight, there were only few rays that made it inside.

Regardless, it was a welcome sight indeed. It was an uplifting experience, the short time in the sun that we had before taken for granted. The rays filled our hearts with hope and quickened our step; recalling within our memories our motivation for continuing on. Alas, the bridge of Khazad-dûm laid stories beneath us and away from the reach of the sun. We needed to continue forward in order to escape with all haste.

After some time we came upon a great cavern, and within it there were many ladders and buckets tied to rope filled with pick axes and other mining tools. There were thin ledges that lined around the walls throughout the cavern that would eventually lead us nearer to our destination. As we fell into single file, one by one inching along the ledge, it became completely apparent how correct Aragorn had been about horses not belonging in the mines.

The light from Gandalf’s staff reflected off of the cavern’s walls and caused them to glimmer; I knew what this was. The dark rock seemed to have silver veins running through it, and Gandalf announced my thoughts aloud.

“The wealth of Moria was not in gold… or jewels…” He gradually tilted his staff downwards to the giant pit that lay at our feet, illuminating the vast amounts of rare mineral within. "…but Mithril." All of the Fellowship leaned forward slightly to get a better look. "Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"Oh, that was a kingly gift!” Gimli exclaimed with admiration as the Fellowship continued on.

"Yes! I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire." Gandalf said nonchalantly. I wondered if dear old Bilbo Baggins still had the shirt today. It would seem very much like him to keep such a thing even when kept up safe in Rivendell with Lord Elrond. The thought made me smile; remembering the brave little hobbit. Hearing of his famous adventures through Mirkwood and the Lonely Mountain and even outwitting Smaug—and now I had the honor to travel with his nephew.

We exited the cavern and were faced with a steep staircase that had clearly eroded over time. It was difficult enough for me to get up carefully, but the hobbits were forced to go up on their hands and feet to keep from falling over. The stairs were caked with dust and dirt and remnants of the occupants of Moria. Many times the hobbits slipped—more so Peregrin, though—and I was glad I had decided to stay behind them in case they began to fall.

At the top of the stair we came to a crossroads of sorts; there were three doorways before us that led to different parts of Moria. The archways bore no indication of whither they went, and as the last of us stepped off the stairs and onto the plateau, something terrible happened.

“I have no memory of this place.” Gandalf said wearily, looking back and forth at each doorway. A small sigh escaped my lips and Legolas placed a hand of comfort on my shoulder. I found a smile to give for him; realizing how lucky I was to be here with such admirable people. When Gandalf took a seat on a rock near the entrances we understood it would be some time before he would come to a decision.

The hobbits were the first to take the opportunity for rest, collapsing down onto the ground and stretching. I took a seat close to the stair, in hopes to catch any sign of movement of possible enemies. Boromir sat beside me and Aragorn beside him, while Legolas and Gimli were seated in the distance. All except for Frodo, Sam, Legolas and I took out their pipes and began to smoke while Gandalf sat staring at the doorways broodingly.

“Are we lost?” Pippin whispered in the darkness.

“No.” Merry replied hastily.

“I think we’re lost.” Pippin insisted.

“Shh! Gandalf’s thinking!” Samwise stopped the hobbit from speaking—if only for a few moments.

“Merry?”

“What?”

“I’m hungry.” I let out a quiet laugh at the little hobbit, admiring the fact that despite our current ordeal his true hobbit qualities still shone through.

“One would think you to be related, Vanya.” Boromir said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You care for them as if they were your own.”

“My caring for them is no different than you defending the people of Gondor, Boromir. There is nothing wrong with exhibiting emotion.”

“Perhaps not for you.” He said quietly, perhaps so quiet I was not intended to hear. I turned to face him, confused.

“Do you believe that if you showed fear during battle, but defeated the enemy, that your people would not celebrate all the same?”

He suddenly seemed very uncomfortable, as though he did not like discussing such things. “It is not as simple as you think, Vanya.” He breathed. I took his response as my cue to refrain from continuing the conversation. Turning away, I returned my focus to being a lookout.

“May I ask you something?” Boromir said, calling me out of my focus. I met his eyes, worried by the apprehensive look in his eyes, and nodded. “What was it that you saw that scared you?” It was as I had feared. I did not wish to lie to Boromir, but I did not think I had the courage to tell him what I had seen. For me, the worry was still too near.

“I…I remembered the day my father died.” I stuttered out, casting down my eyes and slowly turning away from him.

“It was a memory?” He leaned closer until he could whisper without being heard. “I thought you only saw the future when—”

“I do not know, Boromir!” I snapped, immediately regretting doing so when I caught his expression. He had meant no harm, yet the panic within me built up and broke through. With a weary glance I got up and went to stand with Legolas and Gimli. The Elf-Prince could tell at once there was something not right but did me the favour of not pushing the matter. He took my hand in his and I gripped it tightly. I forced my head to go blank and let it be overwritten with the exchange between Gandalf and Frodo.

"Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many." Gandalf said to the little hobbit. The words seemed to discourage Frodo, and I had the urge to go and comfort him instead of being comforted myself. If even the wisest could not see all ends, as Gandalf said, I would gladly and willingly give my gift to them to have. I wish it had never come to me.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." Frodo whispered, looking just as helpless as I felt.

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case you also were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought." Although the wizard’s words were not directed at me, I felt better, as if their magic somehow still applied to me.

To my right I saw that Boromir was sacrificing some of his food to give to the hobbits, all of whom were apprehensive to take it, save Pippin. The sight, along with Gandalf’s words, were enough to clear all unhappy thoughts and feelings from my body. Perhaps I could use my gift of foresight in order to help us…save us. Perhaps that was why fate brought me to Bree in time to meet the hobbits and eventually get swept into all of this.

“Oh! It’s that way.” Gandalf said, getting up from his place and stretching. Legolas and I exchanged a hopeful look and started helping the hobbits prepare to move on.

“He’s remembered!” Merry said.

“No, I don’t like the feel of the middle way, and I do not like the smell of the left way—the air is foul down there. We shall take the right pass. When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!”

The Fellowship gathered and descended the stairs to wherever they would lead us. I had this feeling that we were growing closer and closer to Khazad-dûm and to the exit; and it was most encouraging. The staircase was short; which was relieving, because due to the way it curled one could not see what was around the corner.

But when we came to the end, Gandalf increased the light that was being emitted from his staff. What we saw was breathtaking. It was a great stone hall, no doubt the biggest in all of Moria, with grand arched ceilings and columns as tall as the mountains themselves.

"Behold: the great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf announced grandly as we pushed on.

"Now there's an eye opener and no mistake." Sam said in awe.

I slowed my pace so until Boromir was at my side. Waiting until we were alone, I turned to him and prepared to apologize for my actions. However, before I could open my mouth he nodded, accepting my apology before I even said it. I laughed lightly and he took my hand in his.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

Gimli cried out, running out of my sight and into a room to the right. Gandalf called him to stop as we all rushed after him. I sighed as I saw what had drawn his attention. There was a white stone tomb inside, with runes on the top that I could not read. Gimli collapsed to his knees at the foot of the tomb and began to sob, a sound that pulled at my heart. Boromir put a hand on Gimli’s shoulder as Gandalf translated the inscription on the tomb.

“Here lies Balin, don of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead, then. It’s as I feared.” Gimli was murmuring soft words in his own language as Gandalf picked up a book from a corpse’s grasp on the ground. Handing his things to Pippin, he began to flip through the pages.

“We must move on, we cannot linger!” Legolas whispered harshly. He was right, though. Staying in one place too long was unsafe, but I was sure that Gandalf had a reason for staying at the moment.

"'They have taken the bridge… and the second hall.'" Gandalf began. "'We have barred the gates… but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums…drums in the deep…'"

I could feel reality slipping away from me and I stumbled backwards, reaching out for something, anything to stead me as I was swept into another vision.

There is an awful smell that grows present first, and slowly the pieces fit together. There is a great host of orcs filing down a strangely familiar staircase. They have weapons and armor, and their eyes are filled with hunger, filled with destruction. They run towards the room with Balin’s tomb, yelling and preparing to kill. They smell the fear within. They shoot an arrow at the door, at someone who is looking out.

“Vanya!” Gandalf was calling urgently as I slowly drifted back to reality. “Vanya, what did you see?” Legolas’ hand was supporting my neck as I lay in his grasp. The fear came at me suddenly after recollecting the vision.

“Orcs…very many of them. Great and black and erratic, they…they are coming!” I breathed out in a panic. I wished I could be strong, wished I could be strong for the hobbits, but at the moment I was more occupied with getting everyone out as soon as possible.

There is a sudden sound, a crash behind us. As Legolas helped me up we looked on in horror as an entire corpse near Pippin slinked its way into the well behind it. It felt like an eternity as there was bang after bang, and the entire Fellowship held their breath as the noises slowly faded into oblivion. There were a few seconds grace that we all waited before exhaling in relief.

“Fool of a Took!” Gandalf cried, snatching his things back from the hobbit as I exchanged a weary look with Legolas. “Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!”

There was not even a moment’s time before drums were heard in the deep sections of the mines. We all looked around worriedly as the noise increased. Sam cried out as Frodo pulled out Sting—it was glowing light blue as it did when one thing was near.

“Orcs!” Legolas cried in disgust, drawing his bow as quickly as I had out my daggers. Boromir ran towards the doors to see if they were near and I abruptly recalled my vision. I ran to him with just enough time to pull him back before an arrow crashed into the door where he had been moments before.

“They have a cave troll.” He announced with sarcastic happiness. Aragorn quickly joined Boromir to aid in closing and barricading the door with old weapons. I backed up beside Legolas as he took aim at the door. Gandalf threw his hat away, drawing his sword and standing in front of the hobbits, who all had out their little daggers. Boromir held his sword beside me, while Aragorn took out his bow and also aimed at the door. Gimli clambered onto Balin’s tomb with newfound enthusiasm.

“Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

I prepared myself for battle by chanting my familiar phrase. Sinte ú achas, óre ú achas. I would let this phrase take over my body, ridding myself of all fear and panic. Instead, I would have courage and strength. Enough, perhaps, to defend the hobbits. To the death.