The Ranger And The Prince.

Last Stand of Moria.

We had been decending the stairs for quite some time when we finally saw the passageway open out. Gandalf, always the head of the fellowship, stepped forward with his staff.

"Let me risk a little more light." He mused as the crystal on his staff glowed brighter.

When our eyes adjusted, I couldn't help but chuckle at the rest of the fellowship who all gawked at the sight of the vast stone hall. I had never forgotten it's beauty. Even Legolas seemed to be stunned by the view, appreciating the work of the dwarves.

"Behold the great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf said as his staff grew brighter.

"There's an eye opener, and no mistake," I heard Sam say in awe.

"You should have seen it back in it's prime," I sighed heartily, patting the young Hobbit on the shoulder.

After a few moments of awe, Gandalf marched off, leading us to the other side. It would take a few hours to do so but we were keeping good time so far. If we kept this up, we would reach the bridge quite soon.

However, our journey would soon be cut short as we passed another great stone pillar and saw a side chamber, it's entrance littered with bodies. The rotting wood of the door was pierced with arrows and hacked to pieces. Gimli stopped in his tracks and before we knew it, he was sprinting inside.

"Gimli!" Gandalf protested but it was no use.

"No!" He heard him wail, prompting the rest of us to follow.

The chamber to cold and dank, it reeked of damp and decay. It was quite well lit because of the single beam of sunlight cascading onto a white stone coffin. The dead were surrounding it, obviously the last stand against whatever was trying to break down the door.

"Oh, no!" Gimli sobbed as he read the words on the tomb.

"Here lies Balin son of Fundin Lord of Moria." Gandalf sighed, sadness laced in his words, remembering his old friend, "He is dead, then. It's as I feared."

I knelt down next to Gimli, sharing his pain. I had only met Balin once, he was one of many in Thorin's company which I had met in Mirkwood. I didn't know him long but from what I could tell, and what others had told me, he was an honourable dwarf.

I watched as Gimli wailed for the loss of his dear cousin. I lost a home, he lost a loved one. It was a mutual understanding.

When I stood back up, I looked over at Gandalf. His staff and pointy hat had been passed to Pippin as he picked up a rather large and dusty book from one of the skeletons. One of the pages fell out and it had a deep gash across the front.

"We must move on. We cannot linger." Legolas stated as softly as he could, probably so as not to be too inconsiderate of Gimli's loss.

"They have taken the bridge and the second hall." Gandalf read aloud from the book he was holding, "We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep...We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming..."

No longer had Gandalf finished, when we heard an almighty crashing. Our head snapped away from Gandalf and towards Pippin. He stood over a skeleton which was sat on the edge of a well.

We listened in horror as the head crashed downwards in the abyss. Then the whole body fell, creating an even more ear-wrenching sound, closely followed by the bucket attached to the skeleton.

It seemed to fall for so long as we waited for silence again. It echoed through every hall, made us flinch at every new noise created by it.

When it finally quietened, we sighed in relief that it was over, and nothing was happening. Pippin looked timidly up at Gandalf like a child looking up at their father after breaking something.