The days and nights wore on, with no discernible difference between the two. The Black Pit, Moria translated to in the common tongue. How easy it was to understand why. We walked, we slept, and we walked again. Whether it was night or day, and how many days had passed, I could no longer tell.
The paths of Moria wound unpredictably through the mountain's heart, thin and spidery, wide enough for three carts abreast, then barely stable enough for an elf to walk on, let alone any mortal with their thumping footsteps.
The only thing keeping me from utter despair was the faint light of Mithrandir's staff ahead, and the soft sound of Legolas' footsteps behind, his hand occasionally squeezing mine.
However, I heard something else from time to time; a slapping against the rocks, swift and quickly stifled. I heard it just as we rounded a corner onto a thin stretch of rock. Legolas and I exchanged an uneasy glance.
To distract myself, I looked around us. A disused mine peered out of the gloaming. Abandoned ladders and chains, half rotten, hung off the walls above and opposite us. I breathed in the musty air, relieved at the bigger space in which we had found ourselves but wrinkling my nose all the same.
"The wealth of Moria is not in gold, or jewels, but mithril." Mithrandir explained, leaning over the edge and illuminating the fathoms deep mine. In the dull walls could be seen bright glints of silver steel, like veins in the great body of rock. My mouth dropped slightly open at the scale of it. What riches they must have had, the folk of Dúrin, in their glory days.
After a moment we walked on, I still in between Mithrandir and Legolas. "Bilbo had a set of mithril rings that Thorin gave him." The wizard said. I raised my eyebrow, for mithril was among the most valuable substances in Middle Earth, and those who possessed it did not lightly give it away.
"Oh, that was a kingly gift!" Gimli said in astonishment.
"Yes," Gandalf said amusedly, "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire, and everything in it."
The next thing to meet us was a flight of almost vertical steps. I climbed carefully behind Mithrandir, steadying him when he wobbled precariously. Reaching the top with relief, I pulled Frodo and Sam up behind me, then offered a hand to Gimli when he followed. "I'm fine." He said firmly, pushing it aside. Aragorn, behind him, stifled a laugh.
Neither Legolas, Gimli or I had spoken of our argument the first night in Moria. We seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to leave it be. Little though I wanted to admit it, Mithrandir had been right; the talents of both elf and dwarf were needed to see us through this most perilous stage of the journey. We had little time to dwell on age-old disagreements.
Once most of the fellowship were safely on firm ground, Mithrandir looked around him. We were stood on a circle of rock, and in front of us three doorways stood, each, it seemed, leading in a different direction.
It was unnerving, somehow. The area where we stood was small, but open. However, the mines were so black it was easy to imagine we were hemmed in to a tiny chamber, walls closing in around us.
I shivered imperceptibly, taking a step backwards and squeezing Legolas' hand. We said nothing, but he drew closer. A threat had been growing in our minds the further we walked, and while we were halted, nothing could distract me from it. Legolas looked behind and around us warily, but not even his sharp eyes, well accustomed to the gloaming of Mirkwood, could pierce far into Moria's unknowable depths.
Mithrandir frowned, looking from one door to another for minutes, while the fellowship watched silently. I could hear nothing but our heartbeats and unsteady breathing.
YOU ARE READING
The Sunset Princess
Fanfiction*Sequel to 'The Exile's Daughter'.* It has been nine years since Legolas and Nesseldë were wed. Despite the growing danger of their forest home, and the sinister creatures who constantly assail the borders of the Woodland Realm, she lives in a veil...
