Sword and Arrow

Chapter 16

Gandalf's guidance took them through more abandoned chambers and narrow passages, but now they began to see more of the vast halls that Moria was famous for. Soon, the Fellowship came to a huge hall, big enough to fit a city inside. The ceiling disappeared into the shadows high above them, and great pillars that were so wide that all ten of them could not surround it and hold hands rose up to meet the stone ceiling. The pillars were carved with geometric patterns, and small statues of different figures were set in plinths at their bases. Beruthiel reckoned that she'd seen an elf in there too - it must have been Celebrimbor.

"Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf said as they had stopped in their tracks, marvelling at the size of the cavern. Again he blew on the crystal in his staff and whispered a few words. The light within erupted brighter, casting its brightness over more of the huge area. The Fellowship saw that the room was much bigger than they had first thought it was. "Behold," he announced. "The great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

The group of ten slowly walked through the abandoned city, their heads turned up as they admired the architecture. Boromir slowly reached for Aragorn's hand, who took it and squeezed the other's. "This can't be real," Boromir whispered. And it didn't seem so. His voice echoed off the far walls and ceiling, bouncing back at him distorted and as if another creature were speaking through his mouth and was not used to the human way of speaking.

As they proceeded forward, the light seemed to brighten, but Gandalf was not doing anything to his light... He frowned with confusion. There could be no source of light this far inside the darkness of Khazad-dum, could there?

Soon, the source of the light became clear. A beam of sunlight, stark white against the pitch darkness, cleaved through the room. It came from a smaller chamber set to the side of this gargantuan city.

Gimli's eyes widened. He dropped his axe and ran for the door. He barreled through the weak wooden door and into the room beyond. A stone casket lay in the center, surrounded by decaying bodies and weapons. He skidded to a stop beside the casket, silently reading the inscription carved out in bold Khuzdul characters. His eyes flicked over them once, twice, thrice, then the breath left his lungs.

Dead. He's dead, he thought numbly. The dwarf collapsed to his knees beside the casket and rested his head against the edge, his helmet tapping against the stone, and heaved great sobs that shook his whole body.

The Fellowship entered behind him, fanning out to the perimeter of the room. Beruthiel stood close to Aragorn, for the amount of death in that room scared her, and there were orcish bodies mixed with the dwarves. They scared her, with their gaping eyes, shrivelled skin still clinging to the bone, flapping pointed ears in some crude imitation of an elf's.

Gandalf moved to stand behind Gimli. He scanned the inscription, then read it aloud, translating it to Westron so they all would understand.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Each word came slower than the last, and it seemed that they carried great weight: the weight of the finality of death.

"He is dead, then." Gandalf bowed his head, offering silent mourning for the wise old dwarf. "It is as I feared."

Gimli let out a final wail of mourning, and the finality it carried broke Beruthiel's heart.

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A/N: hey guys, sorry for the short chapter! Hopefully I can publish a longer one later today!