Lost Tales from Middle-earth

The Fellowship

In Imladris, the Fellowship of the Ring was formed.

They were ten.

Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir son of Denethor of the race of men, Gimli son of Glóin of the dwarves, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took of the hobbits, Olórin, or Mithrandir, more commonly called Gandalf the Grey, an Istari Maia and Legolas son of Thranduil and Rhaweth, of the elves.

She believed that if she would join this Quest all would be for the better, so she decided to journey with them, or at least until her feet carried her Elsewhere. Anyway, all of this was her fault.

She already knew Olórin and Estel, and learned to know the others.

Immediately she befriended Meriadoc and Peregrin, although more commonly called Merry and Pippin, as they were funny, and wrought her friendship with Sam, gaining his undying loyalty when she admitted to him her love for potatoes.

Frodo appreciated her, for she knew when he wanted to be alone, and made sure he was, as the weight of the Ring was a heavy burden. She should know that, more than anyone.

She got to Boromir's heart by telling him about the old splendor of Minas Tirith and of Gondor, when they were first built and created, from gravel to beauty.

Gimli she befriended by talking to him about the splendor of the Dwarf Halls of old and of Erebor at the height of its glory,

And last was Legolas. He deeply troubled her, and she grew more and more fond of him every day, sometimes catching herself looking at him from afar.

In a few words, she was entirely adopted by the company, and all of them trusted her with their life, and would lay down theirs for her.

She had her way with the hearts of people, when they let her get close enough.

For many days they walked, until at last they arrived at the feet of Mount Caradhras.

They climbed the steep mountainside, covered in snow until they were caught in a tempest and only her and the son of Thranduil remained upon the whiteness that covered the ground. They could not advance anymore.

After a discussion about whether they should continue, they decided, or rather Frodo decided, that they would go through the Mines of Khazad-dûm.

She shivered. Khazad-dûm was no place for the small hobbits.

As they grew closer to the entrance, her heart grew heavier. This was not a good idea, and she had voted against it, but she had followed the Ringbearer nonetheless.

He would need her help now more than ever, and she was very sorry for what she had caused to happen. Her biggest mistake.

When Gimli started boasting about how Balin would receive them, she smiled. It had been years since she had last seen her old friend. They arrived to the door at night, and had to part with Bill, Sam's pony, who had been with them since they had left Imladris, and before. An odd feeling filled her, like a sense of danger that she couldn't quite place. Something was wrong. She walked in the rear of the group, making sure none were lost, so Olórin already was trying to find the Password to open the gates when she arrived. She walked to him, smiled, said "Mellon" and the doors opened.

She had not forgotten the riddle, that really was not much of a riddle, as the answer was written on the very door, and entered.

Suddenly, her head snapped up. She felt danger. She turned around and yelled at the rest to run inside as quickly as possible, charging outside, her sword in her hands.

Alas she was too late! A tentacle rose out of the dark waters and grabbed Frodo. As she sliced through the appendices of the Beast, she twirled and cut. Soon the Ringbearer was freed, as the Fellowship ran inside. On her guard, Rhaweth followed, still fighting the horrid beast. The doors closed. They were trapped.

Khazad-dûm was silent, but not of a welcomed silence after the endless sounds of the Wild, but of an oppressing silence that made every step of the members of the Fellowship echoe in its vast caves. Even Gimli had fallen silent.

For many hours they walked through the dark passages and across thin bridges that stood above precipices.

For all but the elves, all was darkness.

Legolas and Rhaweth though did not need the feeble light that Gandalf's staff offered. They could see the Splendor of Moria.

The son of Thranduil was impressed by such magnificence, but the sight did not affect him as much as it did the child of the creator of the Silmarils, for long ago she had seen Khazad-dûm at the height of its Glory, filled with dwarves mining for jewels, chatting or simply strolling in their Home.

She still could hear the laughter of the Children echoing in the great golden halls, all places lit with flaming fire and the soft light that penetrated through carefully placed windows, she could still smell the sweetness of the freshly baked pies that Mhoika her friend used to make whenever she came and the gentle scolding of her twin sons Lendur and Thoror when they stole those pies and stuffed them in their laughing mouths.

She could still hear the screams. When the Bane of Durin had woken, she had been visiting Mhoika and it destroyed what was to her a fourth Home.

That wretched day, she had been taught a lesson. Never to take anything for granted. Instead of fighting the beast, she had taken the four years old twins of her best friend with her, to bring them someplace safe, completing Mhoika's last wishes, before the Balrog killed her.

Lendur and Thoror had not outlived their mother by many years. She had been foolish to trust Nil. He might have been a good dwarf and the uncle of the twins, but he was no warrior.

It was fifteen years after the death of Mhoika that she learned of their death at the hands of a rogue cave Troll. She had never said goodbye to them.