Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

They banged against the door like a heartbeat; steady and in intervals. Little bits of wood began to break off the door, allowing their spears and other weapons to poke through. Aragorn and Legolas took this opportunity to shoot their arrows, successfully killing a few of our enemies. In the time it took me to inhale a breath of courage, the orcs of Moria exploded through the doors. There was a moment’s hesitation on both party’s behalf before they continued.

Just long enough for me to take in their armor and weaponry. I had no time to estimate the approximate number of orcs, but as more arrows flew past me I charged. Running directly into the mob of dirty, rabid orcs, I spun in the air and brought my blades across the necks of multiple orcs. I barely noticed as their rancid black blood stained my clothing. The others soon followed me into battle, and I recognized how long it had been since I’d fought in such an atmosphere. The thought should have terrified me, but it only gave me courage.

There was a giant crashing noise as pieces of the doorway began to crumble away. Through the settling dust came the unsteady figure of the cave troll; chains around his neck and a grand mace in his hand. He released a roar at us all, and did not hesitate to kill some of his own on his way to the Fellowship. I quickly rolled out of the way, cutting the feet of some orcs out from under them in the process. It was extremely liberating, being able to kill so many of them so quickly.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sam rapidly dive through the legs of the troll, and before it could fully turn to attack the hobbit once more, it tumbled backwards. Aragorn and Boromir were tugging on its chain, preventing it from harming Sam. Aragorn let go in order to battle another orc, but in the few moments Boromir clung to the chain the cave troll whipped him across the room. I began to fight my way over to him, but there were many orcs in my path. As he rose, I saw his sword was too far for him to grab and use to defend himself against the oncoming orc. I passed the cave troll, slicing a wound into its legs as I ducked beneath them. I watched as Aragorn threw a knife across the room, directly into the head of the orc attacking Boromir. I touched my hand to his shoulder in thanks before continuing on.

Orcs were proving to be fairly easy to battle. Their fighting patterns were predictable, relying more on erratic movements than any real logic. Swift movements confused them, and they used much of their energy on attacks that missed. I assumed, however, that if there had been a greater number of orcs things would have proved more difficult. It almost felt second nature, as if I could sense where they were around me before I saw them. I could not tell whether this was talent, reward of all my practicing, or perhaps something to do with my foresight.

I heard the cave troll belch out a giant roar before the room rumbled slightly. Aragorn called out Frodo’s name and I immediately stopped fighting and looked around for the hobbit. The troll had brought down a mace near Frodo, Merry, and Pippin; whom were now separated by the beast. I whispered Frodo’s name out of fear, and in my lack of attention I sustained a rather large gash on my shoulder. With all haste I tried to get over to Frodo, determined to get him away from the troll.

I winced as I heard Frodo cry out my Aragorn’s name, and then my own; crying out for help. The troll had him in his filthy hands, pushing me into a furious rage. I called out for Frodo to hold on, and began to fight harder against the enemies that remained. One orc managed to get me to the ground, and after a hard kick to the stomach I was able to get him off of me and decapitate him.

A last cry came from Frodo and in horror I watched as the cave troll pierced him with a long spear. The hobbit stood for a moment, as shocked as the rest of us, before collapsing forward onto the cold ground. I could not find the heart to move for a moment, consumed by the complete awe and desire to disbelieve what I had just witnessed. Merry and Pippin released battle cries before jumping onto the back of the troll and beginning to repeatedly stab at it. I felt tears come into my eyes as I struggled for the focus to defeat the few remaining orcs standing between Frodo and me.

Legolas and the others worked to bring the troll down, shooting arrows and attacking it. With a final blow to the orc I was sparring with, I sliced its neck and took in a shaky breath. I looked at the still hobbit, stumbling over corpses as I tried desperately to go over to him. The tears were falling freely now, his name escaping my lips in a frantic whisper. Aragorn was crawling towards the hobbit, and reached him before I did. His hands hesitated over the hobbit’s body as my heart filled with despair.

Gently turning him over, my eyes widened as the hobbit gasped in breaths. The entire Fellowship was circled around the hobbit, looking on with awe at the miracle we were beholding.

“He’s alive!” Sam exclaimed as Frodo looked at us all.

“I’m alright, I’m not hurt.” Frodo said as I pulled him into my arms. I used the opportunity to release the tears that I had left, and kissed his forehead before releasing him completely.

"You should be dead!” Aragorn announced. “That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

“I think there’s more to this hobbit than meets the eye.” Gandalf said as he took a few steps closer. Frodo met the gaze of the wizard before pulling down his shirt to reveal a garment of Mithril. I reached out and traced the material momentarily; thanking Bilbo for knowing it would serve Frodo better than it would him.

“Mithril!” Gimli exclaimed. “You’re full of surprises, Master Baggins.” The Fellowship had not a moment to spare after that before orc calls were sounded in the distance. We looked wearily to Gandalf, whose eyes were glued to the door.

“To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!” He said urgently. I helped Frodo up, ushering him out after Gandalf and following behind the other hobbits. We veered right, following the wizard, and looked behind us as hundreds of orcs began to chase after us. But they did not only come from the entry behind; they came from seemingly nowhere. They poured out of concealed cracks in the ceiling and ground like a spring, their armor clinging together as they clambered towards the Fellowship.

When I faced the front once more, I ran into Aragorn. He had stopped, like everyone else, and was staring at the thousand-strong host of orcs surrounding the ten of us. My heart was racing from fear, not from running. They growled at us, tauntingly shoving their weapons at us all. I looked around hopelessly, trying to determine how we were supposed to escape from this. Perhaps a diversion. I was sure that Gandalf could succeed in removing the hobbits and himself while the rest of us remained here, fighting to the death in order to protect the others. I would be more than willing to volunteer to do so, if it guaranteed the safety of the others.

In the distance there was a giant fiery glow that came into existence. It was blinding, in the near darkness, and was accompanied by a low roar. At this, all of the orcs became silent, and my heart skipped a beat. Within moments there was another roar and the light began to inch closer. This caused the orcs to chatter amongst themselves with apparent fear and hastily make their escape.

I truly wished to be fearless, to have the courage to stand tall against this enemy. Although my head left room for the possibility I was wrong, in my heart I knew what was looming in the far corners of the hall. The thought brought into me a fear I had never had before, and I hovered closer to Aragorn. He placed his hand on the small of my back, and I gripped the loose fabric of his cloak.

“What is this new devilry?” Boromir asked quietly in the newfound silence; the orcs having long disappeared now. There were seven agonizingly long seconds before Gandalf confirmed my knowledge of what was inching closer to us.

“A Balrog—a demon of the ancient world.” I felt pressure on my hand, and looked down to see Frodo looking on at the beast with unforeseen fear in his eyes, and clutching his trembling hand in mine. I swallowed hard, mustering up what inches of courage I had left to put on a show with; for Frodo, for the hobbits. “This foe is beyond any of you…Run!”

I immediately spun and picked Frodo up, wrapping my arms around his body as I took off running down the hall. In the distance was a small archway, and the light it emitted was as orange as the one following us. The ground began to rumble beneath us as the Balrog took quicker steps; but this only caused us to run faster. I told Frodo that it would be okay, that I would promise to save him at whatever costs.

What felt like an eternity later the Fellowship reached the archway. Gandalf ushered all of us through, and I set Frodo down inside just as I saw Legolas pull Boromir away from his death. I pushed Frodo along, and cast a weary glance at Gandalf before pushing on. The place we had emerged into was full of eroded staircases and had an unseen world waiting deep below.

“Swords are no more use here.” Gandalf muttered as we descended a staircase. As we followed it along, there was a piece missing that we would have to jump over. The Balrog roared, ushering us forward with all haste. Legolas leapt effortlessly across the gap, turning back to face the Fellowship in hopes to aid whomever was jumping next. The Balrog began to smash at the wall, sending pieces crumbling to the ground.

“Gandalf!” Legolas beckoned the wizard over, carefully catching him as he jumped. Arrows began to fly at us, and Legolas was quick to counteract the orcs’ attack. I pushed Boromir forward with the hobbits. He grabbed Merry and Pippin in either arm before bringing them to safety. However, in doing so a large part of the stairs broke off, sending us all backwards.

Aragorn called for Sam to come, and upon getting a steady hold on the hobbit he tossed him across the gap. He landed safely in Boromir’s arms, and I turned to see that there were still four of us left. I brought Frodo next, holding my breath as Aragorn threw him to Boromir. Gimli approached the edge next, but when Aragorn went to help him he held up his hands.

“Nobody tosses a dwarf.” He said stubbornly before leaping across. He just barely landed on the edge, Legolas reaching out to help as he began to fall backwards. The closest thing Legolas could grab, however, was the dwarf’s beard. This clearly outraged him as he protested the fact, but he was in no position to argue as the elf pulled him to safety. No more than a heartbeat later, an immense part of the stone disintegrated. I rapidly jumped backwards and leaned down to help Aragorn as he scrambled to safety.

Aragorn and I stood in wonder at the gap that now separated us from the rest of the Fellowship. It was monstrous. Another roar came from the Balrog, and in his fury he sent pieces of the ceiling crashing down towards us. One chunk landed on the stairs behind us, forcing its way throw and creating now and island. It rocked the foundations of the stair we were on, causing it to begin to wobble. Aragorn immediately grabbed a hold of me, my heart racing beyond belief as we began to sway.

“Hang on!” He called over the din. Arrows continued to shower our feet as the orcs persisted their attack. We tried to find the right way to stand in order to keep the moving stairs balanced, and it was proving exceedingly difficult. I wondered if we would fall to our death. “Lean forward!” He commanded, and I immediately complied. His grip tightened on me as we began to fall forward, Legolas calling out encouraging things as I grabbed fistfuls of the ranger’s clothing.

“Got you.” Boromir said as I was thrown into his arms, the stair having collided with the still-intact section. There was a moment of celebration that we’d all made it across before we pushed on. The bridge was near; freedom was so near—as was the Balrog.

After passing through a few more halls we finally reached the one that delivered us to the bridge, our salvation. It was thin; so thin in fact that only one person could go across at a time. I knew this to be a battle strategy, though, of the dwarves. This served the purpose of funneling all of any opposing forces into a small area where they could be massacred. If we did not flee quickly enough, it was possible that we would fall victim to the dwarves’ war tactics.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf commanded as a wall of fire grew behind him. We crossed as rapidly as time permitted us, being as careful with our footing as possible. If one slipped on this bridge, there was no room for any of us to save them without falling ourselves. The wizard was still on the other side of the bridge as I crossed next to last, before Aragorn.

I turned to see the Balrog emerge. It was great and dark; darker than my most evil dreams. It had giant horns that twisted on his head and wings upon its back; its entire entity wreathed in flames. It stood so tall it barely could be contained within the mines. Whatever fear I had felt before was tenfold now. Gandalf hurried across the bridge, but only made it part way before the demon caught up with him.

“You cannot pass!” Gandalf said, facing the Balrog. Frodo called out the wizard’s name in panic; we were all scared for what would happen. "I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you! Flame of Udûn!"

The demon inhaled in a furious manner; causing it to seemingly expand. Gandalf used his staff to form a sphere of protection around him. I gasped as the Balrog’s blade came down towards the wizard, but was shattered upon meeting the magic.

“Go back to the shadow.” Gandalf hissed, infuriating the demon. It took out a giant whip, demonstrating its power in the air by cracking it. Raising his sword and staff together in the air, Gandalf spoke strongly and clearly before striking his staff down on the bridge. “You—shall not—pass!”

The beast growled before stepping forward. But with that single step, the stone beneath its feet crumbled away and it began a slow descent into the nothingness. Gandalf heaved out a tired breath, and began to hobble away as I started to run to him. But out of the darkness came a whip that wrapped around his ankle, pulling him downwards and gluing me to the floor.

I watched as he slipped until only his hands and head were visible, not bothering to waste any more energy scrambling to get up onto the ledge. I ran towards the bridge, mapping out how I would pull him back up but I was stopped, Aragorn’s hand tight on my arm. I turned to him with confusion in my eyes as I tried to wriggle free, but he only persisted in keeping me where I was.

“Fly, you fools.” Gandalf said before letting go. Frodo released a cry that made me wince, and I looked at the empty bridge in disbelief. How had I not foreseen such an event like this? Why did it not come to me so effortlessly at a time in need, as it did when I did not care for such things? I felt a tugging on my body and saw that we were once again being fired at. It enraged me; that the orcs were still trying to kill us. It made me wish to cross the bridge and destroy them all—but I was being pulled up the stairs and out into the fresh air.

The glory of making it out of Moria alive was not so wonderful, now. I collapsed where I was in confusion, trying desperately to grasp how this had happened. We needed Gandalf; he was our leader, our guide. He held us together and told us what we needed to hear—even if we did not wish to hear it. How would we continue on without him? I felt overwhelmingly guilty. I should have saved him; I should have fought against Aragorn and gone to the aid of the wizard.

Legolas slowly sat beside me, allowing me to collapse onto him in a fit of tears. We were all weeping. This shouldn’t have happened, not to Gandalf. I wished, for Frodo’s sake more than our own, that I had switched spots with Gandalf. That I had died, and he had lived. How could this have happened?

"Legolas, get them up." Aragorn called, causing me to take a deep breath and bury my sadness. I wished to stay here and mourn for some time, but I knew it was an absurd idea. The danger that such an act would place us in would mean Gandalf’s death was in vain. That, I could not stand for.

“Give them a moment, for pity’s sake!” Boromir cried out.

“By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up." Aragorn said, sheathing his sword. Wandering over to Sam, I helped him up and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“On your feet, Sam.” I offered a smile before turning away to find Frodo. I scanned the area, but could not find him. “Frodo? Frodo!”At last I found him, wandering off alone ahead of us. He solemnly turned around and met my eyes; his cheeks were stained with wetness and his eyes red.

I sighed, walking over to him and gingerly pulling him into an embrace. He was limp in my arms, void of all ability to connect so soon after the event. He was, however, content with me walking alongside him as we pushed on to Lothlórien. Neither of us waited for the rest of the Fellowship, for I had passed near this way before and could find a way down myself. It pained me, to see Frodo so distraught. But all of the wishing in the world could not mend his heart, nor relieve the toll this journey was taking on him.