Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings Imagines

Mist 4

The walls were trembling and they could all feel the terrible heat from the creature that approached them.

The Balrog.

Mist was leading them and it was only as she glanced back that he saw the terror on her face.

Gandalf ordered them across the bridge, fleeing single file until Frodo's voice stopped them.

"Gandalf!"

The wizard had stopped in the middle of the bridge and now faced the fire that approached.

The Balrog stepped forward and roared.

Mist collapsed to the ground with a scream, her bandaged hand curled in pain.

Aragorn and Boromir went next to her, but with no idea on what they could do.  They watched between her and Gandalf.

Gandalf faced the Balrog alone

With each strike against the other thought, a new wave of pain would go through Mist and she would attempt to curl up tighter, the blue glow turning red.

As the Balrog struck Gandalf for the last time, it was all Mist could take, collapsing into darkness as the Balrog fell.

And took Gandalf with it.

Boromir caught Frodo as he tried to dash forward, dragging him and calling back for Aragorn.  Aragorn grabbed Mist, holding her over his shoulder, in shock, he stumbles, almost dropping her before he manages to run out with the others.

Outside, the daylight saved them from any swarming goblins.

There, they stopped and grieved.

Aragorn put Mist down gently, checking her over.

"Mist?"  He asked and gently tapped her face but got no response.

His gaze moved to her bandaged hand and noticed that blood was soaking through it.  Cursing, he called Boromir over and started to unbind it.

Boromir joined him.  "What is wrong?"

"Whatever this wound is on her hand is bleeding."  Aragorn said quickly.  "We are going to have to clean it and re-"  He stops as the last of the bandage pulled away.

Both men stare.

"That...that is no wound."  Boromir breathed.

Aragorn traced the heavy black lines along her forearm.  It was these which were bleeding, and he also knew, that it was these that would glow.

"What magic is this?"  Boromir asked.

"Dark magic."  Aragorn said.  "Most likely that of Mordor, but which has not been seen for an age."

"And we trust her?"  Boromir hissed.  "We should just-"

"This is no magic of her own doing."  Aragorn tugged out his water skin and began to pour it over her arm.  "No one would willingly curse themselves like this.  It will be why she has no memory, the magic is too powerful for her body."

"You cannot be serious?"  Boromir said angrily.  "Aragorn she could be working for the enemy for all we know."

"I don't believe she is."  He replied quietly, now wrapping a clean bandage around her arm.  "And nor did Gandalf.  We should trust his judgment above all else."  Tying it off, he stands and sees the others in grief.  He wanted to take a moment, but he knew they had precious few.  "Get them up."

"Give them a moment for pities sake."  Boromir looked over them, the hobbits all in tears, Legolas looking like he didn't know what to do and Gimli was in the angry stage of grief, Boromir having to grab him to stop him charging back into the tunnels.