The Edge of Night

Cold, Dark, and Foul

The Fellowship makes haste off of the mountain, desperate to get to a dryer, warmer climate. The outer walls of Moria provide little comfort in that, for they are just as dark and dingy as one would suspect the inside to be. Elfwyn walks beside Legolas, desperate to keep her teeth from chattering. "Do elves not feel the cold?" She asks after observing him for an extended period of time.

He chuckles slightly. "Not in the same way Men do. It takes more time for us to be affected by things like cold, hunger or tiredness."

"Must be nice."

"At times it can be. But to sleep is to dream."

"Do elves not dream?"

"We dream, and some of us can even dreamwalk?"

"Dreamwalk?" Elfwyn asks, confused.

"Those of us who are lucky enough to find our other half can share dreams. It is a gift."

Elfwyn nods, thinking on this as they continue to search for the door into the mountain.

Gimli takes his ax to the side of the mountain, tapping on it gently. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." He notes fondly.

"Yes Gimli. Their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten." Gandalf comments and she can't help but notice his frustration in the fact.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas asks sarcastically, causing her to chuckle. While this might be the first time Elfwyn had ever met a dwarf, tales of them had been passed from merchants from distant lands, specifically Dale.

She looks out over the lake. The night was quiet... too quiet. Something didn't feel right. This was too easy. She had noticed Gandalf's distaste in the idea of going through Moria from the very beginning and yet nothing was here as a threat or a warning... Then again, maybe that was a warning in and of itself.

They come to a stop under a dying tree, bare of all leaves. Gandalf can be heard muttering to himself, while Aragorn and Sam seem to be relieving Bill of his baggage. She sends up a quick prayer to the gods to watch over the pony as he begins the journey back to Rivendell, alone.

The moon breaks through the clouds and the door begins to glow with ethereal light, an elvish light. "It reads, 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'" Gandalf translates.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asks.

"It's quite simple. If you're a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." And then Gandalf begins shouting in Elvish, attempting to get the doors open. But nothing happens. He tries again, and once more they are met with a closed door and awkward silence.

"Nothing's happening." Pippin notes, looking up at her and Legolas. She coughs to cover the chuckle that escapes from her lips.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men and Orcs."

"What are you going to do then?" Pippin asks innocently.

"Knock you head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, then I am allowed a little piece from foolish questions. I will try to find the opening words."

It feels like they've been standing before the door for hours while Gandalf continues to mutter in elvish, dwarfish, and just about every language in between. Elfwyn's sitting with her back against the walls, her head leaning against it while she tried to catch a few moments of rest. Boromir sits down next to her and she does her best to internalize the groan blossoming from her chest. "It's a riddle." Frodo says. She looks up and Boromir is no longer beside her, having joined Aragorn to overlook the lake. "'Speak, friend, and enter.' What's the elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon." Gandalf replies and the doors crack open, revealing the dark abyss of Moria on the other side. Legolas offers a hand, helping to pull her to her feet.

"Thanks." A blush forming on her cheeks. They fall instep behind Gandalf who's struggling to get his staff lit. Enough light is coming in from the moon that it does not take long for her eyes to adjust.

"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!" Gimli explains. They look around in horror as everyone adjusts to the darkness completely and they are able to take in the carnage around them.

"This is no mine. It's a tomb." Boromir concludes and she can't help but agree with him. Something horrible happened here, something so bad it has even turned Gandalf from this place.

Legolas inspects one of the arrows before tossing to the side in disgust. "Goblins." She unsheathes her sword, ready for an attack, as Aragorn and Boromir do the same.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here. Now, get out of here. Get out!" They turn back towards the entrance just as Frodo falls to the ground and gets dragged from the mine.

She lunges forward, sword raised to strike, only the enemy is not so easily spotted. "Strider!" Aragorn turns and joins her just as one of the hobbits frees Frodo's foot, and the beast recoils its injured tentacle back into the water. Elfwyn's about to breathe out a sigh of relief when more tentacles shoot from the depths of the lake, throwing everyone aside before grabbing hold of Frodo once more. She gets up and joins Boromir and Aragorn in the shallows of the lake as they begin hacking at the creature. Its head sprouts from the water and she almost freezes in fear. A tentacle brushes past her and she chops it off as Aragorn cuts the one holding Frodo up above their heads and he falls into Boromir's waiting arms. "Into the mines!" Gandalf yells and they turn back, Aragorn and Elfwyn covering Boromir as he carries Frodo to the shore.

Legolas fires several arrows at the beast as the group runs past him and enter once more into the mines of Moria. It tries to follow them in but the sheer force of it causes the entrance to cave in, the company inside, safe but trapped as they are thrust into total darkness. "We now have but one choice." Gandalf says as the crystal on the top of his staff begins to flow. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world." She sticks to Legolas, already feeling the darkness circling around her, trying to take hold, the air thickening as she tries to take a breath. "Quietly now. It's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed." Wishful thinking.