Prequel to my version of The Lord of The Rings trilogy

Balin's Tomb

Gimli rushed into another vast, empty chamber, the dim light barely revealing the eerie scene within. Dwarf and Goblin skeletons lay piled high, a silent testament to the grim history of the place. A narrow shaft of sunlight pierced through a small hole near the roof, casting a solitary beam onto the floor. In the far corner, amidst the shadows, stood a stone-walled well, its dark depths beckoning.

As Gimli fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the sight before him, Liv knelt beside him, offering words of comfort and resolve. "It's not your fault," she said gently, "but I promise you, we will get revenge for him."

"Thank you, Liv," Gimli murmured, his voice heavy with grief and determination.

Meanwhile, Gandalf approached a stone table in the center of the chamber, his eyes drawn to a single oblong block crowned with a great slab of white stone. Carefully, he deciphered the ancient runes carved onto the slab. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," he read aloud, his voice solemn. "He is dead, then. It's as I had feared."

With reverence, Gandalf lifted the remains of a book from the stone slab, its pages stained with dried blood and ravaged by time. As he gingerly opened it, the brittle pages crackled and broke under his touch, revealing secrets long forgotten.

"We must move on," Legolas whispered urgently to Aragorn and Liv, his eyes darting around the chamber, wary of any lurking danger.

"I have to agree with him," Liv said, nodding in agreement with Legolas. "We cannot afford to linger here."

"They have taken the Bridge and the second hall," Gandalf continued, his voice tinged with worry. "We have barred the gates, but we cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes, drums beat in the deep, and a shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming."

Gandalf's words hung heavy in the air, each member of the Fellowship grappling with the weight of the impending doom. Liv turned to Gandalf, her mind racing with thoughts of strategy and survival. "Gandalf, what do you suggest we do?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at her heart.

"I thought you were the strategist," Boromir interjected, his tone laced with skepticism as he eyed Liv.

"Boromir, leave her alone," Legolas admonished, his gaze stern.

"I've got this," Liv assured Legolas before turning her attention back to Boromir. "There's a reason why I was chosen as the strategist and you were not," she retorted, her words sharp and cutting. "You can't strategize to save your life."

The Fellowship fell into stunned silence at Liv's boldness, the tension in the chamber palpable.

Suddenly, Pippin, unnerved by the oppressive atmosphere, stumbled backward and collided with the well, sending an armoured skeleton tumbling into its depths. Merry reacted swiftly, grabbing hold of Pippin before he could meet a similar fate. The clatter of the falling skeleton echoed loudly in the chamber, breaking the tense silence.

As the Fellowship regrouped, their resolve hardened, each member steeling themselves for the trials that lay ahead in the depths of Moria.

To be continued