Wander

XII. Sunken Stars

As the leader now, Aragorn led them through the Western Gates of Moria; once they had put a sizeable distance from it, he allowed them to rest upon a dale, completely open so they could see danger. A gentle breeze kept them cool on the bright day, but the Gates remained dark. Some sat on the ground, overcome with grief; Legolas and Aragorn remained standing.

Even though Rowan didn't physically show her emotions, like the hobbits with tears or Gimli through anger, she was just as distraught. She had known what was coming, thought she had saved Gandalf, but killed him. So much in the second and third part of this story revolved around the wizard. How would The Lord of the Rings change with one of the main characters truly dead?

Fault and hopelessness ate her alive, along with despair.

Aragorn turned to the mourning Company. "Legolas, get them up."

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir yelled. He sat beside Gimli, calming him of his anger.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien; there we will find shelter."

Rowan stood to help Pippin to his feet; Legolas helped Merry. The hobbit's face was awash with tears, grief, and disbelief.

He looked up at her. "Is Gandalf truly gone, Rowan?" he hiccupped.

Not knowing how to respond, she just turned away. He took in a breath, shaking with emotion. Rowan figured he had taken her silence as confirmation that the wizard was dead. What could she do? Comfort him with a possible lie that Gandalf would return, like he does in the books and movies, or tell the truth that she honestly didn't know?

Perhaps she had chosen best with remaining silent.

The Company went down the road from the Gates, heading toward the promising golden light far ahead. Once a paved path winding up to Moria, the road under them had turned rough, crumbling with broken stone and overgrown with weeds. When they descended a way, a small lake appeared on the east. Its waters were a dark blue because of the depth, but its surface lay still, unruffled by the wind. Peaceful.

Gimli cried 'Mirrormere' and asked for permission to go gaze into it. Aragorn reluctantly agreed, and Gimli hurried off for the mere, calling Frodo to follow him. Sam shuffled after his friend.

At the name, a line from a song repeated over and over in Rowan's head. Eurielle sung the song Tolkien composed about the line of Durin—well, he didn't create it. 'Song of Durin' was probably an actual song here. Curious about the crown of Durin, she descended to join them by the waterline.

Stopping beside Frodo, she looked out into the waters. The mountains behind them were mirrored, along with a background of the beautiful blue sky. Rowan could feel the icy-cold of the mountains' snowcapped-peaks in the clear image. As she continued to look, jewels deep in the depths glittered like stars.

Now, Rowan understood the song. There wasn't an actual crown lying in the deep, like a golden circlet a king wears.

"There lies his crown in water deep, till Durin wakes again from sleep," Rowan mumbled the tail end of the song.

"You know Dwarvish tales?" Gimli asked.

"Not really; I've just heard that song before."

"I don't see a crown," Sam said.

"It's not a physical crown, Sam," Frodo began. Being the most insightful of the four hobbits, he explained the figurative aspect of Durin's crown to his lifelong friend. "No one will take the rule that Durin created for his crown is unattainable, like the stars. And he will never 'wake from sleep' for that great dwarf-lord has long passed."