The Mysterious Fate #wattys2016

Loss

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.

Bursting into the pure light of day the Fellowship crumbled into despair. Merry and Pippin openly sobbed while Sam held his face in his hands. Boromir had to hold Gimli back. The dwarf was demanding that justice must be had. It took all the Gondorian's strength to prevent Gimli from dashing back inside.

As for Legolas, he looked about, not really seeing anything. He was no stranger to death but this…what he had just witnessed…he couldn't form a coherent thought. Torpidly he looked at the world not even sure of what he was seeing. In his heart grief took hold as well as a deep shame.

Aragorn was still gripping Lana by the arm as he raced into the broad daylight. He looked about seeing this now broken company. He looked down then realizing that he still held onto the woman he let go jerkily. She looked up at him. In her eyes he saw the reflection of his own narcosis. He blinked.

Her eyes are blue…

In the light of day the color was clear now. Her eyes were a deep blue. And they looked at him, dazed and confused. He turned away, unable to hold her gaze.

Looking up he knew that they had to get away from the mines as quickly as possible. He attempted to clean his sword and frowned in consternation at his shaking hands. Collecting himself he called out to the elf.

"Legolas. Get them up."

The Mirkwood elf turned to him blankly for a moment before gradually moving towards the youngest hobbits.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir blurted in distress. Tears were visible in his eyes.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn argued back. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien."

Lana blinked as if coming back to consciousness. Aragorn stepped up to her and said quietly, "You will come with us." Then he turned and moved towards the still reeling Fellowship.

"Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli — get them up. On your feet, Sam." He patted the weeping hobbit on the shoulder.

Turning he searched for Frodo. The dark-haired hobbit had wandered down a ways, drifting among the steppes that made up the once glorious path to Moria.

"Frodo? Frodo!"

The hobbit halted and turned. The woe in his eyes was unbearable. Slowly he returned to the group. While they waited Aragorn untied a dagger from his belt.

"Here; take this." He offered it to Lana.

She stared numbly at the blade, then her eyes seemed to widen. She shook her head. Aragorn opened his mouth to say something then frowned. She was wounded, and he only just now noticed it. The cut on her cheek was oozing. Blood mingled with her tears. He could also see a trail of blood on her neck. And her left arm too had been slashed.

"You are injured," he observed in concern. "But they do not appear to be life-threatening." He inspected her with his eyes closely. "They will need tending once we reach safety."

He held out the dagger to her again. Once more she shook her head. Annoyed, he grabbed her hand and set the dagger in it. Giving her a stern look he then turned away.

"Let us go!" He called to the group.

Striking out on a path Aragorn led them away from the dark door of Moria. The sun was high. They only had half a day to reach the safety of the Golden Wood.