Deliver Us From Evil

I was thankful that of all the dogs I could’ve turned into, a husky was it. My thick coat of fur kept me warm and the pads of my feet had a much better time walking in snow than humans. Huskies were made for the cold and my body was adapted for things the rest of the Fellowship were not. I especially felt bad for Bill the pony.

Even though the snow was not terribly deep, Frodo had suddenly went tumbling. Aragorn called to him and helped him stand. The rest of us had stopped to watch the ongoings. After wiping some snow off himself, Frodo realized the necklace holding the One Ring was not on him. Yards away, it laid in the snow to be picked up by Boromir. A strange look entered his eyes as he gazed at the Ring.

“Boromir,” Aragorn said.

“It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing,” he sighed, “such a little thing.” I thought back the light hearted joke I made those days ago.

“Boromir,” Aragorn said sharply. “Give the ring to Frodo.”

At the call of his name, Boromir tore his eyes from the golden band. He took careful steps toward Frodo and Aragorn with this gloved hand outstretched. “As you wish.” Frodo snatched the chain and Ring back. “I care not,” Boromir said with a bit of a smile, as if trying to ease the situation. He chuckled and ruffled the Ring bearer’s black locks.

Hours later, we found ourselves in the middle of a blizzard. While my fur offered me protection from the elements, the wind still chilled me to the bone. The snow was thigh deep, meaning the hobbits had to be carried. Legolas was the epitome of elvish perfection and walked on the surface with light feet. I couldn’t do the same, but I didn’t sink in as deep as the others.

Legolas, leading the front of our group, paused suddenly. “There is a fell voice in the air,” he announced ominously. Had I been able to verbally communicate passed growls and barks, I would’ve complained about the vague warning.

“It’s Saruman!” Gandalf shouted.

What sounded at first like thunder cracked loudly through the air. We all turned our gazes upward to see large rocks from the cliff crack, break, and fall. We instantly ducked and moved away from the edge to avoid falling debris. I felt my stomach clench in terror.

“He’s trying to bring down the mountain!” Aragorn shouted above the howling wind. “Gandalf, we must turn back!” I hated the thought of suffering this icy hell to be all in vain, but the urge to flee built up inside of me and I let out a whine in agreement with the ranger.

“No!” Gandalf shouted. Using his staff, he seemed to be saying a spell. “Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith. Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath.”

Lighting struck high above up and fear seized my heart. Before the rocks even started falling, I tucked myself against the cliff wall and lowered my head. The other joined me moments later as snow, rock, and ice rained down. Everything became white. I felt as if I was suffocating in a powdered sea of snow. Panic coursed through my veins, but I was able to remain calm enough to dig my way out.

I barely managed to pulled myself from what could’ve been my frozen grave when I heard Boromir shout, “We must get off the mountain! Make for the gap of Rohan and take the West Road to my city!” As long as it was warm, I was game.

“The gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn argued.

“We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria,” Gimli proposed.

Gandalf had a troubled look on his face. “Let the Ring bearer decide.” Frodo looked shocked and unsure of what to do.

“We cannot stay here!” Boromir held Merry and Pippin as they shivered in his arms. “This will be the deaths of the hobbits!”

“Frodo?” Gandalf urged.

“We will go through the mines,” he answered in a clear voice. I internally cheered that a decision had finally been made that did not involve an in icy death.

Still, Gandalf did not seem as elated as I was at this news. “So be it.”

***

We had been walking along the shores of a dark lake that gave me a strange feeling. A huge cliff stood in front of us, which Gimli informed us was the walls of Moria. “Dwarf walls are invisible when closed,” he said, tapping his axe against the rock. According to Gandalf, even dwarves lost them, which roused a rude remark from Legolas.

Gandalf searched the stone cliff, looking for the hidden door. “Itidin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight,” he whispered, turning his gaze to the full moon. It reminded me how glad I was that a skinwalker had bitten me and not a werewolf.

Like magic, the outline of the door appeared in a soft light once exposed to the moon. “It reads: ‘The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend and enter,’” the wizard told us.

“What do you suppose that means?” Merry asked.

“It's quite simple. If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open,” he answered confidently. “Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!”

We stood there in silence as nothing happened.

Gandalf tried again.

“Nothing’s happened,” Pippin remarked.

The wizard resorted to applying pressure to the door.

“What are you going to do then?”

“Knock your head against them, Peregrin Took, and if that does not settle then I have no place for foolish questions and I will try to find another way,” he snapped.*

He continued to try words and spells, but the rest of us settled down for a well deserved break.

“The Mines are no place for a pony, even one as brave as Bill,” Aragorn told Sam as he started to remove the packs.

“Bye, Bill,” Sam told the small steed.

“Go on, Bill, go on,” Aragorn insisted. “Sam, he knows the way home.” His words of assurance could not keep the look of sadness off Sam’s face. Aragorn turned to me. “You should probably turn back to your original form. The Mines will be much more difficult to navigate on four legs.”

I quickly dipped my muzzle downward to convey my understanding. I grasped my pack that contained my clothing from the ground and went off to be out of sight of the Fellowship.There was no place to hide so I did my best to keep a safe distance. I transformed with my back to them and trusted them enough to keep their eyes to themselves. I pulled on my skintight, tan breeches, dark green tunic, black belt, and black boots that reached just below my knees.

As I made my way back to the group, I slid an elvish dagger into my belt. I touched my hair and felt how unkept and messy it was. It had grown several noticeable inches since I came to Middle-Earth. I attempted to brush and tame it with my fingers before I faced the male gazes. Looks weren’t a priority on this quest, but it was natural for me.

Merry and Pippin were passing the time by throwing stones into the lake. Just as Pippin had arched back his arm, Aragorn caught his wrist. “Do not disturb the water,” he said just above a whisper.

I followed his line of sight on the black water as ripples seemed to form. I could hear Frodo speaking, but my attention was focused on the murky depths. My animal instincts were alive once again and fight or flight settled in. Something told me that fleeing was the better option.

At a word from Gandalf, the thick stone doors opened, drawing everyone’s attentions. I was thankful we would be leaving the shore. The inside was dark; the only light came from the moon outside. A decaying scent was in the air.

“So, master elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin. And they call this a mine…” Gimli stopped his boasting when the light from Gandalf’s staff cast on to the stone steps with dwarfish skeletons laying about.

“This is no mine,” Boromir remarked, “it’s a tomb!”

“No!” Gimli shouted. “NO!”

Removing an arrow from a corpse, Legolas told us of the murderers. “Goblins!”

I gripped my dagger, suddenly feeling defenseless. The hobbits even had more impressive blades than myself. I would have had better luck fighting as a dog since I was more accustomed to it.

The others drew their weapons as well. “We make for the Rap of Rohan,” Boromir insisted once more. “We should never have come here. Now, get out! Get out!”

I whirled around as shouts of Frodo’s name broke through the air. Loyalty was my fatal flaw as I was part canine. The urge to protect the Fellowship was in me, but I had pledged my life to the Ring bearer. Much to my horror, long tentacles reached out of the water and grasped Frodo by his ankle. He called for Aragorn as the king cut one of the monster’s appendages off and Legolas shot arrows. Boromir had entered the water and hacked and cut his way through until the kidnapped hobbit dropped into his arms.

“Into the mines!” Gandalf called.

I had been trying to pull the other halflings passed the doorway. They finally complied when Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir, with Frodo in his arms, charged through. The sea monster, which reminded me of the Kraken, lifted its body from the water and surged itself toward us. The force of its body caused the entrance of Moria to collapse and we ran to avoid being crushed to death.

We were lost in the darkness.