Deliver Us From Evil

A new rush of adrenaline surged through me as we dashed down another large chamber of Dwarrowdelf. I was concerned about my blood pumping and if it would cause me to bleed out faster. I could hear the screams of creatures as they chased us. More covered the columns and ceiling, much to my horror.

“What the fuck are those things?” I gasped.

“Goblins,” Legolas said as he ran beside me.

We were quickly surrounded as they flooded in from all sides. Their armor was as misshapen as their faces. Their eyes were impossibly large and reminded me of a tarsier. One growled, revealing murky yellow teeth, like a yellow marker that had ran over black ink. My shoulder was pressed against Boromir’s as we held our weapons in front of us. I was sure were we going to die, but a loud roar sounded through the cavern, one worse than the cave troll’s.

The hordes of goblins shifted and squabbled. I could almost smell their fear. They screamed in their high pitch voices and quickly disbursed. They scaled the columns and fled. While I was happy they were gone, I feared whatever had chased them away. What could terrorize goblins that much with just simple movements of vocal chords?

“What is this new devilry?” Boromir asked, practically voicing my thoughts.

The silence lasted only moments, but the fear and tension made it seem like hours. My heart was beating inside of my eardrums. An orange light came from down the corridor and I wondered if a Hell’s Gate had been opened.

“A balrog,” Gandalf whispered. “A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you.” I mentally noted that he did not include himself. “Run!” He began the chase.

Leaving Dwarrowdelf, we entered a side stairway that led downwards. The momentum built up as I ran and I doubted I would be able to stop. I caught sight of Boromir coming to a halting stop, dropping his torch. I was grateful for the platform that paused between sets of stairs. I was able to figuratively hit the breaks before I passed Boromir. Before he could fall to his death, Legolas grasped him from behind and pulled him back and on top of himself.

I turned my head, panting harshly, to see Gandalf shove Aragorn, making the ranger give him a look of alarm and offensive. “Do as I say; swords are no use here!”

And so we descended farther down, the staircases narrow and lacking any safety features. Unfortunately, there was a yard and a half wide gap in the way from where stone had crumbled with age. It wouldn’t of been so dangerous if the whole thing wasn’t so steep and narrow.
Legolas easily jumped over and turned back to us. “Gandalf,” he urged with a gesture of his arm. The wizard sprang across with surprising agility for someone who was as physically elderly as he.
It was in that moment when arrows started to rain down around us. “Don’t we ever get a fucking break?” I growled. Aragorn and Legolas returned fire and took down the archers. I bent my knees and breathed deeply. I thought back to my childhood, jumping on a trampoline, as I sail over the gap. I had overshot it and was not prepared for the landing. My legs buckled and I almost went rolling down and tripping Legolas. My knees and already cut hands were scraped fearsly.

Boromir grabbed the hobbits in both arms, much to their shock, and leaped across. This caused at least another foot of stone to break away. I cursed furiously, in both English and Spanish, as Legolas shot down more archers. I felt helpless as I could do nothing.

Aragorn threw Sam and he was safely caught by Boromir. When he turned to Gimli, the dwarf raised a hand and said, “Nobody tosses a dwarf!” I almost rolled my eyes at his stubbornness, but then he jumped across and barely made it, teetering on the edge. Legolas moved faster than the rest of us and gripped Gimli’s beard. “Not the beard!” he shouted. I flinched and imagined it felt like waxing, but the pain lasting longer. He pulled him forward and into his arms. More of the stairs collapsed and the two remaining had moved just in time. The gap was at least four or five yards wide.

Though it was horribly irrational, I wanted nothing more than to go to Frodo. I took a step forward, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Boromir shake his head at me.

A roar interrupted us and the balrog shook the entirety of the mines as it drew closer. Rock fell and broke the other side of the stair bridge, trapping Aragorn and Frodo. I whimpered in fear for them and felt Boromir grasp my right forearm.

The support below them began to crumble and they fought to keep their balance. Luckily, the structure fell toward us. Frodo fell into Legolas’s awaiting arms and as soon as their feet touched sturdier ground, we were running once more. Fire was raging inside of Moria and I sincerely hoped there was a nearby exit. Surely the dwarves were smart enough to plan for an emergency fire exit.

“Over the bridge! Fly!” Gandalf shouted, stopping for us to run past. I didn’t bother to wonder what he meant by telling us to fly.

Glancing back, I saw a horrifying sight. A monster, perhaps the Satan of this world, followed us. Its skin was black and possibly made of coals as its back and shoulders were alight with flames. Its eyes glowed and so did the inside of its throat. Terror skimmed its fingers over me, but I moved to escape its grasp.

We were forced to cross an even narrower bridge and I supposed that dwarves believed in single file line. I refused to let myself look down because I knew that if I did I would freeze and possibly puke. I didn’t stop until I heard Gandalf shout from the bridge, “You cannot pass!” He faced the balrog with his sword and staff raised.

“Gandalf!” Frodo called to him.

I could not make out his words, but a light began to glow around him. It was the epitome of good versus evil. The balrog brought down a blade of fire that dissolved when it came into contact with Gandalf’s. The beast roared at him. “Go back to the shadow!” the grey wizard ordered.

It stepped onto the bridge and wielded a new weapon, a whip of fire. He whipped it to the side as if throwing down a gauntlet.

Gandalf raised his sword and staff and pressed them together. With a mighty voice, he roared at the beast, “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” His weapons slammed onto the bridge.

With one step forward, the stone broke away, balrog and all.

Gandalf stood unharmed on the ledge. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Just as he turned to follow us, the whip reached up from beyond the grave and grasped his ankle. Frodo and I both started toward him, but we were stopped by the others. A dog-like whine escaped my mouth.

“Gandalf!” Frodo screamed as he was restrained by Boromir,

The wandering wizard held onto the edge and looked at us with wide blue eyes. “Fly, you fools.” And he slipped into the abyss.

“No!” Frodo howled as his heart broke in two. Boromir picked him up like a child and called to Aragorn.

My breath caught in my throat and I didn’t think I could breath. Frodo’s screams of agony squeezed my heart until it was a bloody mush of meat. I was barely aware of Legolas as he was pulling me away. My legs were forced to moved. I stumbled at first but I regained my footing and was running at full sprint. We didn’t stop until we reached the outside. The blue sky should have been a beautiful sight, but all I felt was pain. My shoulder flared, as did my hands, but I could not feel them over the pain in my chest. Boulders made up the landscape and made it rough to run.

Once outside, we slowed to stop as reality set in. The hobbits couldn’t even support themselves as they fell to the ground in sobs. I wanted to comfort them, but I was rooted where I was standing. My body shook uncontrollably. A wave crashed through my ears and I could no longer hear their pain; I was too busy being submerged in my own.

“Legolas, get them up,” Aragorn ordered. These words broke the trance I was in. I suddenly wanted to throttle the ranger for being so cold.

“Give the moment, for pity’s sake!” Boromir said before I could harm Aragorn.

“By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!” he informed us. His reasoning was logical but I barely cared in that moment. If I hadn’t been grieving so deeply, I would have felt the instinct to flee this place. “We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up. On your feet, Sam.” He grasped Sam and pulled him up. He gave me a wary look, but I simply nodded, no expression on my features. My anger was pushed to the side; I was a pack animal and I needed to follow my leader.

***

We continuously ran for roughly thirty minutes before we reached a forest. Only then could we walk. Leaves fell around us and I felt a sort of wondrous magic about the place.

“Stay close, young hobbits,” Gimli warned them. “They say a sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell and they are never seen again.”

I frowned at his words. If anything, the woods reminded me almost of Rivendell and it smelled faintly of elves. I was sure this was the home of the immortal ones, but I doubted a witch lived here. The prejudice and hatred that dwarves and elves felt for one enough held no bounds, so a story about an evil elf was not surprising.

“Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily,” Gimli boasted. “I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!” This words were cut off by two arrows notched inches from his face.

I myself was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the golden elves. I bit back a growl as everyone was threatened with arrows.

“The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark,” a smooth voice said. Aragorn spoke to him in Elvish.

“Aragorn,” Gimli interrupted, “these woods are perilous. We should go back.”

“You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood.You cannot go back.” The elf’s eyes went to Frodo and I felt anger bubble in my stomach. “Come, she is waiting.”

***

By dusk were standing on top of a platform in the trees. I kept away from the edge in fear of falling. The elf that lead us here, whose name was apparently Haldir, greeted Legolas and Aragorn in Elvish. So of course, Gimli complained that him and the rest of us could not understand. Personally, I trusted Aragorn enough that he would inform us if something was said that we needed to know.

“We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the Dark Days,” Haldir told him in a clipped tone.

“And you know what this dwarf says to that?” His next words were in a different language and judging from Aragorn’s expression, he was insulting the elf.

“That was not so courteous,” the ranger chastised him.

Haldir’s gaze was taken to Frodo. His next words made me grind my teeth together to stop a growl. “You bring great evil with you.” He turned away from the hobbit. “You can go no further,” he spoke quickly.

The next several minutes was spent with Aragorn arguing quietly in Elvish with Haldir. I busied myself with inspecting my hands. Legolas took notice and bounded them with makeshift dressings from strips of cloth.

“You will need these cleaned and soon,” he warned me. His eyes landed on my shoulder. “You are wounded even worse than I thought. Why did you not say anything?”

I looked down at my new bandages. “There wasn’t exactly any time. And I’ll be fine.” Before he could protest, I continued. “Like I mentioned in Moria, I have only one weakness and it was not used against me. The wounds are unpleasant, but they won’t kill me.” I had lowered my voice to avoid the other elves overhearing.

Apparently Aragorn had won the debate as Haldir ordered us to follow him. It turned out we were a greater distance from the city than thought. It was afternoon by the time we reached it and I was amazed by how golden and beautiful it was. Humans moved nature when it was in the way, but the elves built with it. Their homes were in the trees that towered above us. Staircases wounded around the trunks.

The sun had just slipped away when we met our hosts. Both the lord and lady walked with a natural glowing air about them. They were aryan and stunningly beautiful.

“The enemy knows you have entered here,” Lord Celeborn told us. “What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar.”

“Gandalf the Gray did not pass the borders of this land,” Lady Galadriel spoke very softly. “He has fallen into shadow.” Her mouth barely moved as she spoke.

“We was taken by both shadow and flame,” Legolas said remorsefully. “A balrog of Morgoth.” I felt lost as my knowledge on Middle-Earth lore was ever limited. “For we went needlessly into the net of Moria.”

“Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose.” The lady stopped and turned her gaze to Gimli. “Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands love is now mingled with grief.” Her clear blue eyes moved to Boromir then and he could not meet her gaze. He slightly shook and I placed my hand on his arm, just as he had done for me in Moria.

“Welcome, Daisy of Earth.” I started at the voice that echoed through my mind. The Lady of the Light stared at me and I knew it was her voice. “You have come a long way from home, but your purpose for being in Middle-Earth is important. The first part of your fate will soon show itself.” I only nodded in response.

“What now becomes of this Fellowship?” Lord Celeborn asked. “Without Gandalf, hope is lost.”

“The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife,” Lady Galadriel spoke in her soft voice. “Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace.”

***

I found the soft glowing light of the elven realm to be relaxing. I was much cleaner after being given a bath that I used to scrub away grime, black blood of orcs, and other things that I didn’t want to know about. The water was filthy when I was finally through with it. My wounds were tended despite them being mostly healed. Wounds healed quickly for me, unless they were made by silver.* A young elleth had happily braided my hair while I practically scarfed down the food I was given. The sweet bread was edible happiness as far as I was concerned.

I sat on my bedroll in the tent we were given. Beautiful singing could be heard throughout the city.

“A lament for Gandalf,” Legolas explained.

Aragorn ran a whetstone down his sword while Merry asked, “What do they say about him?”

“I have not the heart to tell you.” Tears shone in his blue eyes. “For me, the grief is still too near.”

“I bet they don’t mention his fireworks,” remarked Sam as he laid out his own bed. “There should be a verse about them.” He paused before standing. “The finest rockets ever seen! They burst in stars of blue and green. Or after thunder, silver showers…” Aragorn smacked Gimli for sleeping through Sam’s poetry. “They came falling like a… rain of flowers… Oh, that won’t do them justice by a long road.” He lost his confidence at the end and dropped onto his cot.

Aragorn passed me to leave the tent and I leaned toward Sam to say, “I liked that. That was especially good for a spur of the moment poem. Write it down, add to it, edit it. That’ll do Gandalf and his fireworks the justice you’re looking for.”

A blush settled on his face. “Thank you, Miss Daisy.”

***

The Fellowship rested peacefully in the tent. We needed the period to relax, grieve, and recover. However, one of us seemed to be missing out on these luxuries. Boromir sat several yards away on top of a large root that grew above ground. The pale light of the realm created almost a halo on his light hair. I slowly arose from my cot and quietly tiptoed around my sleeping companions.

“You should be resting,” I said in a low voice as I approached from behind. His head turned around to face me. “We may not get another opportunity to for awhile.” I sat down beside him.

“I cannot find sleep as thoughts plague my mind,” he confessed, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

I nodded in understanding. “I know the feeling. An exhausted body always loses to an awake mind.” I shifted myself as the root made a poor and uncomfortable seat. “Do you want to share these thoughts? It may help.”

He paused for a moment. “I covet the Ring,” he admitted painfully. I almost told him that we all did, but he continued to speak. “And not just for Gondor, though that is the main reason.” He looked shameful and desperate. “I am lying to myself when I say my intentions are pure.”

“We have a saying in my world: ‘The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem.’ The fact that you know you covet it means that you can address the problem and you have the potential to change yourself.” I rubbed the fabric over my right forearm. “Granted, it’s easier said than done, but none of this is easy. The fact that you’ve made it this far proves that you’re strong, Boromir.”

He gazed at me with his gray eyes. “Thank you, Miss Daisy.”

I waved away the formality. “Please, just Daisy. I think it’s been long enough for us to at least address each other on a personal level.” I fully turned my body to face him. “You speak of Gondor a lot,” I observed. “I can see that you care for it very much.”

His eyes twinkled at the new topic of conversation. “Yes, it is my home. I miss it very much.”

“I know how you feel.”

He looked at me with sympathy. “You are a long way from home as well.” He hesitated before asking me, “Why are you helping us and putting yourself in danger when this is not even your home?”

I sighed and told him, “For many reasons, really. I do want to help the Free Peoples, but my cause is more selfish than that. There is no leaving Middle-Earth, at least not in the foreseeable future. I have no choice but to make this place my home. And just like you, I can’t watch it burn.”

“What was your life like before you… were bitten?” he asked in a ghost of a whisper.

I was surprised by the question, but I answered. “Relatively normal for my world.” This question had been previously posed by Pippin and I wondered if he was looking for more details. “My name was Gemma then. Gemma West.” At his confused look, I explained, “As a dog, my owners named me Daisy. Calling them my owners sounds terrible, but that’s what they were. And I love them so I kept the name.”

“Did you,” he paused. “Were you in a courtship with anyone?” My eyebrows shot upward in alarm at the question. He suddenly looked embarrassed. “I apologize, my lady. I should not have asked.”

“No, it’s fine. And it’s just Daisy,” I said with a small smile and he returned it. “Actually, I was going to get married.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were betrothed?”

I nodded. “I had to leave due to the situation of becoming a skinwalker. And honestly, I planned on ending our relationship anyway.”

“Why? If it is not too impolite to ask.”

I tried to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. “There was an accident,” I said barely above a whisper. He leaned in slightly to hear me better. “His skull was fractured in several places, causing brain damage. He also shattered his left hip.” I blinked back the tears that stung my eyes. “I loved him, I really did. I tried to stay with him through his recovery. My reason for wanting to leave wasn’t because it took him so long before he could walk again, or because he forgot all the time; sometimes he forgot my name even. It was because I was scared of him.”

Boromir frowned at my words. “Why did you fear him?”

“Wade, because of the brain damage, he was angry all the time.” I pulled back my sleeve to reveal the white scar on my forearm. “He tried to stab me twice; only once he succeeded. Thank God it was just a butter knife.”

Boromir’s fingertips traced over the puckered flesh with gentle touches. His hands were calloused from years of manual labor and working with weapons. His eyes left my arm and went to the fresher scar on my neck. He moved his hand to touch it in the same way as my arm. I could feel heat radiate from him. “I have always wondered what caused such a mark and whom would ever do such a thing to a beautiful young woman.”

“The witch who brought me here,” I said quietly though the compliment was not lost on me. My hand reached up on reflex to touch the scar, but collided with his instead. I kept my hand there and felt along his flesh.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss me.

I pulled back slightly, keeping our lips an inch apart. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Please.”

He tilted his head, but did not move away. “Why?” His voice did not carry an accusation, but simply needed to know.

I sighed and pressed my forehead to his. His masculine scent flooded my senses and was intoxicating. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like a jerk then kiss me just because this place is glowing in a lovely light and everything is romantic and we’re alone together and sharing emotions and secrets. You don’t get to do that,” I repeated. “Both us are… emotionally compromised because we lost our friend and we’re weak and weary. Don’t do something that you’ll make us both regret.”

His hand had traveled from my throat to my cheek. “I do not regret this, Daisy.” His mouth claimed mine.