𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐇: 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( lotr. )

Chapter Eight - The Balrog

"WHICH THEY HAD DEFENDED WITH THEIR LIVES..."

✧ ☫ ✧

BY THE TIME the rest of the fellowship had reached the chamber, Gimli had fallen to his knees in front of a cuboid of white marble and grey stone, his forehead against the edge of it. Faint sobs escaped him as she walked past him and the cuboid which was now obviously a tomb. She let her eyes wander across the room. Two metres (6.5 ft.) high up on the wall opposite the entrance they had come in for was a square hole. A ray of bright cold white light fell in through it and onto the tomb, causing it to glow in a white light. Arina turned her attention to the Certhas Daeron inscribed upon the smooth surface of the glowing marble.

She struggled a little to understand the oft-modified version of Cirth that had been used. From what she could see, it said something about Balin and Moria.

"'Here lies Balin son of Fundin, Lord of Moria'," Gandalf read out the runes in the Common Tongue. "He is dead, then. It is as I feared."

He took off his grey, pointed hat. Arina bowed her head to pay the dead dwarf her respects and returned to Aragorn and Legolas who had remained standing near the entrance while Boromir had stepped behind Gimli and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

Balin...somehow the name seemed familiar to her. Had he been in Thorin Oakenshield's company 77 years ago?

Mithrandir handed his staff and hat to Pippin, then bent down to retrieve what seemed to be a book from a dwarf-skeleton's grasp.

As he opened the book, Arina placed her weight from one foot onto the other, getting uncomfortable. They couldn't stay here forever.

"We must move on. We cannot linger!"

She turned her head toward Legolas. He was right. They had to leave before meeting the same fate as these dwarves had. Whatever evil had befallen them was still here.

"They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums...drums in the deep."

Arina looked up at those words. A dark and foreboding feeling entered her mind as the wizard turned a page, throwing them a glance, his eyes lingering on her for split second longer.

"We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out...they are coming."

She had seen the fear in Mithrandir's features. He knew just as well what Durin's Bane was, and how powerful it was.

ALL OF A SUDDEN, the sound of something falling against stone filled the dreadful silence that had settled in after Gandalf's last words. Arina whirled around, looking for the source of the sound, her eyes moving across the room and landing on Pippin. Just when she thought it was over, a dwarf-corpse seated on the rim of the well slowly slid backward — down the shaft, into the depths of Khazad-dûm. Pippin winced at every new wave of noise as the clang of the body echoed on forever. At last, silence fell once again. Gandalf slammed the dusty book shut.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

Roughly, he seized his hat and staff, leaving the hobbit standing guiltily. They had all begun to relax again, when the drums came. Deep and ominous, vibrating through the air. From deep below the sounds echoed up to them, making them freeze.

By the Valar.

Remembering her sword, Arina drew Silmacil from its sheath. The normally shining white blade was glowing with a cerulean blue hue. Orcs or goblins.