For international journalist Lana Rey the unreal becomes reality as she finds herself in a world not her own. Middle Earth is on the brinks of a war. A secret Fellowship of Nine quest to destroy an object of unbelievable power. The Ring of Souran. T...
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Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
The rumbling ceased with a finality made all the more frightening by the darkness that now enclosed them. It was like the sealing of a tomb. The only noise now came from their collective panting. Their hearts were pounding so furiously that they were certain the constellate noise would echo throughout the mines.
Out of the pitch came a resigned voice. "Now we must face the long dark of Moria," spoke Gandalf the Grey.
Like a flare, a light on the end of the wizard's staff kindled. Within the radius of its glow the frightened faces of a rag-tag company were revealed. Dazed and dismayed they looked to their leader for comfort and guidance but his face was set in grim lines. The resignation in the wizard's voice did little to dispel the dread that settled in their hearts.
"Quietly now!" He cautioned tersely. "It is a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence goes unnoticed."
Collecting themselves, the Fellowship filed behind Gandalf. Their feet moved reluctantly but as the wizard had said, there was no choice now but to go forward into the gloom. They entered the bowels of the mountains, clinging to the scant light provided by Gandalf's staff.
Yet as they marched through the decrepit glory that was once the heart of Dwarfdom, they could not help but wonder at its corroded majesty. From what they could see, a craftsmanship unlike anywhere else in Middle Earth was dimly revealed. The walls were masterfully carved and there was a sense of decayed grandeur. Gimli son of Glóin, the lone dwarf of the Fellowship, felt his heart swell first with pride as he looked upon the heritage of his kin. But great sorrow chased that pride - for all had fallen into decay and ruin.
Where were his kinsfolk?
The oppressing dark dampened even his indomitable spirit. Behind him the four hobbits looked about, captivated by everything they saw. Bred and born of rolling hills and simpler halls they never could have imaged a city such as this. All that they knew were Bilbo's tales of the Lonely Mountain far away in Erebor. Moria, it seemed, was much grander. Howbeit, the ancient city now was only a shell of its former splendor.
As for Boromir of Gondor, he felt a deep anger pool in his heart. If only they had gone his way, they could have avoided this. The Gap of Rohan would surely have been safer than this treacherous path! His lips thinned as he marched. His eyes, while not as keen as an elf's, pierced the shadows distrustfully. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on his shoulders. Restless energy caused his fingers to drum on the white horn that hung opposite his sword.
His eyes shifted to Frodo. The hobbit shadowed Gandalf closely looking fearfully about. As well he should! An irrational choler rose in his gullet startling him. This was not the first time he had felt strange since starting this journey. Unnerved he forced away the acrimonious feeling he focused all his attention to their surroundings. It would not do to be caught unawares in this dark place.
