The Silver Flame (LOTR)

The Shadows of Moria

The Fellowship stepped cautiously through the arched doorway, entering a vast, black emptiness. The darkness was oppressive, swallowing the faintest whispers of sound. Gandalf paused, sensing the weight of ages pressing down upon them.

"Let me risk a little more light," Galadriel said softly, her voice a gentle thread against the silence. As Gandalf tapped his staff, a brilliant light blazed forth, illuminating the space in a flash like silent lightning. Great shadows sprang up and fled, revealing the grandiose remnants of Dwarrowdelf.

Frodo gasped at the sight: a vast roof loomed far above their heads, upheld by mighty stone pillars. The walls, polished and smooth as glass, reflected the light like darkened mirrors.

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake!" Sam exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and trepidation.

Ahead of them lay a shattered wooden door, black arrows embedded deep in the timber. Two goblin skeletons lay sprawled in the doorway, a grim testament to the violence that had unfolded here. Gimli rushed forward, driven by a fierce urgency.

"Gimli!!" Gandalf shouted, but the dwarf was already lost in his grief and anger.

As they moved deeper, the Fellowship entered Balin's Tomb, where a narrow shaft of sunlight pierced through a hole in the roof. A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft, echoing whispers of the past. Dwarf and goblin skeletons were piled high in the chamber, and at the center, a stone table held a single oblong block, topped with a great slab of white stone.

Gimli fell to his knees, his voice choked with sorrow. "No...no...oh, no!" The sound of his anguish echoed in the hollow chamber.

Gandalf approached the stone slab, quietly reading the inscription carved upon it.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead, then. It's as I had feared."

He carefully lifted a rotting book from the slab, its pages cracked and stained with dried blood.

"They have taken the Bridge and the second hall," he read, his voice grave. "We have barred the gates...but cannot hold them for long...the ground shakes...drums in the deep...we cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming."

Pippin's nervousness escalated, and as he backed away, he stumbled against the well, sending an armored skeleton clattering down into the depths below. The Fellowship froze, the sound echoing ominously through the dark caverns.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" Gandalf barked, frustration etched across his face.

Before Pippin could respond, a low, rolling boom rose from the depths, growing louder—a rhythm like a heart pounding in the dark. Sam glanced worriedly at Frodo, who stared at Sting's scabbard, a cold blue glow emanating from within.

"Orcs!" Legolas warned, urgency igniting in his voice.

"Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn instructed the hobbits, his eyes scanning the shadows.

The door burst open, and a horde of goblins surged into the tomb, a grotesque wave of sharp teeth and foul stench, their dark, twisted forms a blend of snarling fury and savage hunger. Their shrieks filled the air, a cacophony that drowned out all reason. Visenya felt the surge of fear rush through her, but it ignited a fire in her heart.

She swung her sword, cutting through the goblin ranks with a warrior's precision, her blade dancing like flame among the shadows. Each swing was a release, a momentary escape from the growing dread gnawing at her insides.

As the goblins fell, the air thickened with the smell of sweat and blood, mingling with the chill of the tomb. They poured forth like a black tide, a single, merciless event sweeping over the chamber, consuming all in their path. The Fellowship fought back, steel clashing against crude weapons, but the goblins pressed on, relentless in their assault.

Visenya felt the chaos enveloping her, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Every scream and clash reverberated in her ears, a brutal reminder of the darkness that lay ahead. Yet, amidst the carnage, her thoughts spiraled inward. She wrestled with guilt, wondering if she could have sensed the threat earlier, if she could have somehow turned the tide in their favor. But those thoughts remained unvoiced, lost in the clamor of battle.

Then, in the heart of the fray, the shadows deepened. A tremor rippled through the ground, a dreadful warning that silenced even the goblins. The air crackled with an electric intensity, and a deep, rumbling growl echoed from the darkness beyond.

Visenya's breath hitched in her throat as the Balrog emerged—a creature of nightmares, cloaked in shadows and flame. Its towering figure was wreathed in a dark mist, shimmering with flickers of fire like dying stars. Great wings unfurled behind it, spreading across the chamber like a veil of night, each beat sending waves of heat and fear crashing over them.

Its eyes burned with an ancient malevolence, two glowing orbs of fiery red piercing through the darkness. The very essence of despair clung to it, and Visenya's heart sank, a weight pressing against her chest. The creature's massive form moved with an unnatural grace, flames licking its edges as it surveyed the chaos with a predatory gaze.

"Gandalf!" she called, urgency lacing her voice as she felt the encroaching dread close in around her.

But the wizard was already stepping forward, his staff raised high. "You cannot pass!" he bellowed, his voice a fierce command against the encroaching darkness.

In that moment, as the Balrog took a step forward, the ground trembled beneath its feet. Visenya felt the heat radiating from it, like standing too close to a blazing fire, and the chill of fear ran down her spine. This creature was not merely a beast; it was a force of nature, a tempest of shadows and flame that threatened to engulf them all.

Her thoughts raced, spiraling into a whirlpool of terror and guilt. But the words wouldn't escape her lips, trapped behind a wall of panic. She had already lost so much, and the thought of losing more was unbearable.

With a sudden, terrible roar, the Balrog charged, its fiery whip cracking through the air. The Fellowship fell into chaos once more, fighting to fend off the creature and the remnants of the goblin horde that surged around them. But Visenya's focus remained on Gandalf, the fierce guardian they had come to depend on.

The ground shook as the Balrog approached, its presence suffocating. Visenya's grip tightened on her sword, and she willed herself forward, determined to fight alongside Gandalf, to protect the hobbits behind her. I must help him! The thought surged in her mind, igniting a desperate hope.

But before she could take a step, the massive creature lashed out with its fiery whip, dragging Gandalf down into the darkness. "Fly, you fools!" he shouted, his voice a fading echo in the cavern as he fell.

Visenya's heart shattered. The weight of guilt crushed her, she should have done more, what good was being imperviable to fire if she couldn't help Gandalf against a firey demon. But her mind betrayed her, spiraling into a vortex of blame, even as she fought to remain steadfast for those around her.

Boromir scooped Frodo into his arms, urgency driving them away from the gaping chasm, but Visenya felt frozen in place, haunted by the loss of their guide. The abyss yawned behind them, the darkness swallowing Gandalf, and her heart ached with an emptiness she had never known.

"We must go! Now!" Aragorn urged, pulling her back from the brink, but her mind lingered on the shadows.

With one last look at the place where their guide had fallen, Visenya turned away, her heart heavy with sorrow and guilt, vowing silently that she would honor his memory in the battles yet to come.