Take the Hidden Paths (3/5)
See Part 1 for warnings and more information.
Part 3: The Shadow Lies Upon His Tomb
Two months later, after all the scouts had returned and found no sign of the Wraiths, the nine members of the Fellowship left Rivendell. They spent the next several weeks traveling the Misty Mountains, stopping for a day in Hollin while they hid from the crebain likely sent by Nimueh. They hurried toward Caradhas, where they spent a miserable night sheltered under an overhang and only saved by the firewood they'd gathered before they began their ascent. There, Merlin proved his worth for the first time, because he could magically light the fire without revealing himself, unlike Gandalf. After all, no one was watching for a Hobbit casting spells. The company had no choice but to retreat down the mountain, where they spent another miserable night fighting off wolves. Legolas proved invaluable with his bow. So they made the difficult but inevitable decision to face the mines of Moria, a dark place only Gimli wished to see-- and that because it was built by Dwarves Ages ago (and he had relatives who had made an expedition there several years ago). He knew as well as the rest of the company it may no longer be safe, for Balin and his company had never returned from their expedition.
Morgana couldn't help but feel apprehensive, no matter that they had two magic-users and four warriors. Moria was nearly as dark in name as Mordor was in the whispers heard in the Shire. If only Caradhas hadn't defeated them…
But the nine struggled on, scrambling over red stones until they came to an old and decayed track next to a trickling stream-- one that Gandalf said should have been raging. Morgana frowned. Had things changed so much since the last time he'd been there? She glanced ahead, at the wizard and the dwarf keeping pace with him. She had learned so much from-- and about-- Gandalf over the past few months. When she was younger, she'd thought him perfect, but he was proving himself to be just as fallible as any mortal. Now, she didn't quite know what to think. One wizard wasn't enough to stand against Sauron.
One of her hands brushed against the Ring she wore under her shirt, but above the mithril coat Father had given her before she left, and she flinched. Better to keep her mind on the path than wondering if this would work. She had to take it one day at a time. And one day, her-- everyone's-- hard work would be rewarded with the destruction of the Ring. But she had to focus on the now, not the future. She shuddered slightly. All she saw now that she'd left Rivendell was the mountain of fire. She hadn't told Gwen yet, but she was starting to wonder if any of them would survive.
Several hours later, after skirting the lake a dam had created, the nine set up a camp by two large holly trees. Gandalf studied the rock wall behind them, and Gimli with him, but there was no sign of the doors. At least, not until the moon rose and shone its light upon them. Then faint silver tracings appeared: a hammer and anvil, two trees, and a many-pointed star. Gandalf translated the words above the drawings. “The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. The name of the door's creators are written beneath.”
“What does it mean by 'speak, friend, and enter'?” Arthur asked, frowning.
“That's simple. If you know the password, the doors will open for you,” Gimli said. “I wish that I knew it, but the knowledge has passed from us.”
Boromir asked, “What about you, Gandalf? You said you've traveled in Moria before.”
“I do not know it. I traveled in the opposite direction. The doors open outwards, and cannot be forced from this side.” He glared at Boromir.
Merlin said, “What are you going to do?”
Gandalf shifted his glare to Merlin. Undaunted by the look, Merlin said, “Maybe I could help.”
“You don't know enough. Your magic is different than mine, but it is less powerful, and will be of no use.”
A hurt expression crossed Merlin's face, and he walked to the edge of the lake. Morgana turned her back on him, wishing she could comfort him, but knowing he'd prefer to be left alone for at least a couple minutes. Gandalf could have worded that better, especially with the problems Merlin had faced all his life because of his gift. He rejoined the increasingly frustrated group after a few minutes, and Morgana was glad to see Gandalf at least smile at him in apology.
Boromir strode to the edge of the lake and picked up a stone, tossing it in his hand a couple times. “Can't you remember anything that will help?”
Before Gandalf could answer, Boromir threw the stone as far as he could, and it landed with a tiny splash. Morgana winced. She felt something. From the way Merlin reacted, face suddenly pale in the moonlight, she knew she wasn't imagining it. “You shouldn't have thrown that,” Merlin said. “There's something out there. Maybe it was put there to guard this place, so that we would be trapped.”
Aragorn seemingly picked up where her cousin was going. “If we can't cross Caradhas, can't travel in Moria, that leaves us the Gap of Rohan, which passes far too close for Isengard.”
Boromir froze. Legolas quietly said, “And if Nimueh didn't put this creature here, Sauron likely ordered it to come. He suspects someone may come this way with the Ring, and he fears what we may do with it.”
Gandalf spoke in the quiet the conversation had engendered. “Mellon.”
The doors opened slowly, and the company stared at the two stairs, one leading up and one leading down.
“What does mellon mean?” Arthur asked.
“Friend,” Legolas said.
“Fine password,” Gimli snorted.
“It was, for a more peaceful time,” Aragorn said, gathering up the supplies they'd scattered in the couple hours they'd been there. Legolas and Gimli stared daggers at each other before putting their packs on.
“Hurry,” Boromir said, pointing to a fast-moving ripple in the water heading straight for them.
But he was too late-- something grabbed Morgana's ankle and she fell. Gwen drew her knife and hacked at the tentacle. It released her and they scrambled into Moria, followed by Legolas, who had his bow aimed. The rest of the fellowship hurried up the stairs, but the doors slammed shut, and they all heard rocks crashing down. Gandalf sighed. “We have no choice now. Forward we must go.”
They climbed for a few minutes until they reached a landing. There, they rested briefly, eating a quick meal, before continuing. Gandalf led, his staff lit just enough to see the ground in front of them, with Gimli behind him. Legolas and the Hobbits followed, with the Men bringing up the rear.
The mine was dangerous, which apart from not quite knowing the way to go, made the journey in the near-dark even harder. There were cracks and fissures in the floor, tunnels leading off the main route they were traveling, and the possibility of orcs. (Though both Morgana and Gandalf had their Ages-old Elvish blades out, and neither shone blue to indicate their presence, which was a slight comfort.) It was harder for the hobbits, because they occasionally had to jump across cracks that the Big People could step over.
It was hard going, Morgana thought, wiping a hand across her brow. It was hotter than it ought to be underground, which was a cause for worry, though no one brought it up. Not that anyone talked much-- the mines seemed to encourage silence. The only things she heard were footsteps (that sometimes pattered on for a brief moment after the company had stopped, though it didn't sound like an echo) and their breathing. It was unnerving, and the Ring felt more present than usual in her mind. Her mind… It hadn't done this in the Shire or Rivendell, but the farther south they traveled, the more it had begun to weigh on her mind, for it wished to return to Sauron. She could feel that there was evil both ahead of and behind her. That ability was the Ring was good for, apart from the invisibility she'd never deliberately used. She must be on her guard to not “accidentally” use it. In this place, it would be a death wish.
Several hours after they entered the mines, Gandalf stopped at a crossroads. He turned to them. “I have no memory of this place. I am weary, and I suspect that all of you are wearier. We will rest here, in the guard room.” He pointed to a half-open stone door. “I will go first,” he said, shooting a look at Arthur and Merlin, who had rushed ahead. He poked around for a moment before letting anyone else in. Once the company was in the room, he pointed to a hole in the middle of the floor. “An uncovered well. If anyone had fallen in, they would still be falling.”
Arthur nodded, but Merlin said nothing, staring at it with wide eyes. As the company moved around the perimeter of the room, setting up camp, he moved closer. Morgana watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he was doing. But he did nothing except crouch near the rim. When Arthur called to him, he stood up and accidentally knocked a loose stone into it. In the near silence in the room, the plunk and resulting echoes seemed strangely magnified. Merlin winced and Gandalf sighed. “Merlin--”
The sounds of hammers sounded, and they waited in silence for the sound to die down. “Those were signals,” Boromir said. “Someone knows we are here.” He glared at Merlin.
“It was an accident,” Gwen said, moving between the two. “He didn't throw it in.”
“Nevertheless,” Gandalf said, “it may have disturbed something better left sleeping. Take the first watch, Merlin. Everyone else, try to sleep.”
Morgana shook her head, but lay down on the hard stone next to Gwen, who spooned against her. She'd have bruises come morning, no doubt, but this wasn't any worse than other campsites.
Six hours later, after a brief bite to eat, they set off, heading up now instead of down. It was easier going, with no cracks in the floor and no tunnels branching off. Eight hours after they woke up, just when everyone was starting to wonder if they were going to find a place to rest for the night, the walls on either side vanished. Morgana briefly saw Gandalf smile as he turned to them.
“We are finally in the habitable parts of the mine. City, I should say at this point. This is one of the great halls. There should be windows carved into the side of the mountain, but it is obviously night. We'll spend the night here.”
Once they were settled, Merlin hesitantly asked, “Gimli, why did the Dwarves come here?”
“Mithril,” he answered promptly. “It is the wealth of nations, and is even more priceless because there is little left. We delved too deep, and disturbed Durin's Bane. The tales do not tell what type of creature it is, just that it is deadly.”
“But what's mithril?” Arthur asked.
“The most valuable metal in the world,” Gandalf said. “Gorlois had a mail coat of it that he received on his adventure. It's worth more than the Shire, and is likely gathering dust in the Mathom-house, the Shire's museum.”
Morgana's mouth dropped open, and she brushed the metal she wore underneath her shirt. “I never knew that,” she said. “But it isn't in the Mathom-house. My father took it with him when he left the Shire.”
Silence fell on the nine after that, and Morgana couldn't help but think of the Shire. Of the gardens, the people, the lifestyle. She'd longed to leave for her entire childhood, but now, she wished that she'd never desired that. Life Outside was darker and harder than she'd ever imagined. Well, it didn't help that the Ring was the cause. Maybe, after they succeeded, she and Gwen could travel. There was more to see and do than rush headlong into danger. She smiled, knowing Gwen would like that.
When she woke up the next morning, Gandalf greeted her cheerfully. “We should reach the Great Gates and leave Moria today.”
“I am glad,” Gimli said quietly. “Moria has gone dark.”
Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but Aragorn elbowed him. They swiftly moved on, coming into a chamber with a tomb. Once the inscription had been read, Gimli bowed his head and placed a hand on it. “At least we know now that Balin at least reached here. But what happened?”
Gandalf peered around the dimly lit chamber. “Orcs, most likely. We have been fortunate to not encounter any.” He moved swiftly to something and picked it up. He turned the pages, muttering to himself. “Yes, it was orcs.” He handed the book to Gimli. “This belongs to you now.” He nodded and thrust it into his pack as drums sounded in the deep. “We have been discovered, and we have miles to travel. We must travel down now, for we are above the level of the Gates,” Gandalf said.
Everyone drew their weapons, and Gwen bit her lip when Sting and Glamdring shone. Gandalf hurried to the door and glanced out. “Orcs, and Uruks from Mordor are among them. There may also be a cave-troll.”
The battle was soon joined, but they managed to fight the first wave off. Morgana was dealt a harsh blow when an orc-chieftain nearly pinned her, and only her mithril coat saved her. They ran from the room-- Morgana was carried, stunned by the blow-- and down several flights of stairs. Gandalf somehow managed to block the passage behind them, not allowing Merlin to help, and they continued downwards, heading toward the Gates.
They took a brief rest so everyone could catch their breath, and Aragorn asked Gandalf what happened when he blocked the passage.
“I fear I have met my match, son of Arathorn. The spell I used nearly failed, and the chamber collapsed. Something dark and powerful is buried there, and I hope that it cannot escape. I fear it may.”
They resumed traveling, moving as swiftly as possible, until they reached a hall that was hot. Merlin stopped. “I feel--”
“I know,” Gandalf said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Morgana?”
“It's dark, even with the fires burning in the fissures in the floor. Something's coming.”
Gandalf peered at the company. “Run. Across the Bridge, up the stairs, along the wide road, and through the First Hall. Go. I will follow.”
Gimli led the way, the hobbits following. Morgana tried to keep up with him, but she kept glancing over her shoulder at Gandalf. He looked weary, older than she had ever seen him. She nearly stumbled and Gwen caught her arm. After that, she paid attention to her path. And then the narrow Bridge loomed in front of them. Merlin gamely followed Gimli to the other side, but Arthur was cautious and walked more slowly. Gwen stayed close behind Morgana. She could hear the footsteps of the others, but didn't look behind her until she'd safely reached the other side. The chasm was dark and bottomless, and she had no desire to fall in.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, flinching from an arrow that clattered off the stone inches above his head. “Can you shield us?”
Morgana saw him stretch out his hand out of the corner of her eye. But her attention was focused on the orcs and how they were retreating to either side. Something was coming-- no, something was there. It leaped across the flaming fissure, and was lit up, by the fire behind it and the fire on it. It held a whip and a sword, and Gandalf stopped running the middle of the Bridge. Aragorn and Boromir stopped just at this side.
Gwen said, “What is it?”
Legolas said, voice cracking, “A Balrog. We cannot hope to fight it. If Gandalf falls, we will die.”
Gandalf held his position as the Balrog advanced. Morgana heard him shout, “You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, son of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.”
The Balrog said nothing, and Morgana's fingernails bit into the palm of her hands as it stepped onto the bridge. The two swords clashed, and the Balrog's broke. Gandalf sheathed Glamdring and grabbed his staff with both hands, striking the stone of the bridge with its butt. The staff broke as the bridge cracked in half. The Balrog fell, but the whip caught Gandalf and dragged him down. He looked up at them, cried, “Run!” and disappeared into the chasm.
“No!” she heard Merlin whisper. Arthur tried to grab him as he rushed forward, but Boromir picked him up and ran up the stairs. Morgana swiftly followed. Merlin's shield had broken and arrows once again became a threat.
They ran the route Gandalf had described, Merlin having been put down when they reached the top of the stairs. He cried as he ran. Once they were out in the sunshine, out of range of arrows from the mines, they stopped. Morgana dropped to the ground. Gandalf was dead. He'd been there her entire life, and now he was gone. She'd considered him a friend, no matter that he was a wizard and many times her age. He'd been there for her and protected her. So why hadn't seen she this? Because of the Ring. She glared at it, though it lay hidden under her shirt. If it wasn't for the Ring, none of this would have happened. Gandalf, I will avenge you, she swore. The Ring will be destroyed.
She looked up and saw Merlin. For all that Gandalf meant to her, she knew he meant more to him. He was the one of the first people to truly accept Merlin and his magic, and he was teaching him how to use it. Now he had no one to turn to for help. Morgana stood up and walked over to him, putting an arm over his shoulders. They stood like that until Aragorn said they had to continue moving, though they did dress their wounds (and were suitably shocked when Morgana revealed the mithril coat that had saved her life).
They crossed the Nimrodel at dusk, into Lothlórien. Boromir was far from happy at entering into Lórien, for he claimed that in Minas Tirith, those who entered never left unscathed. Aragorn was displeased to hear that. After all, the leaders of the country were Arwen's mother's parents, and he himself had spent time there in earlier years. The company spent the night in a talan, a platform in the trees, while Elves kept watch and killed the orcs who had followed them from Moria. After two days' march, the Elf lead them into Lórien proper: the city of Caras Galadhon. There, they met Galadriel and Celeborn, the rulers of Lórien, for the first time. Morgana didn't quite know what to think of their meeting. She knew Galadriel had entered her mind, after they had recounted their tale, but she also felt from that contact that she meant no harm. Boromir wasn't so sure, but then, Morgana had never gotten along with him, because of his attitude toward the Ring, his belief men were superior, and disgust at her and Gwen's relationship. She'd kept away from him as much as possible, because Legolas and Gimli had enough of a problem with each other that she knew Gandalf wouldn't be pleased to deal with another escalating antagonism. Plus, he would be leaving for Minas Tirith. She could put up with him until then. Now, though, she was starting to worry. What if he didn't leave?
Still, she put it out of her mind. Lórien was different-- peaceful and timeless. The lack of danger let them mourn, but as days passed, she grew more anxious. Every moment they spent here gave Sauron a chance to grow more powerful. And yet, no one suggested leaving. Still, as she looked at Gwen reclining naked next to her in the privacy of their own pavilion, there were benefits to being here.
The next day, while she and Gwen were out walking at dusk, listening to the Elves sing in the trees, Morgana spotted Galadriel. The hobbits followed her-- with invitation-- to a small grotto at the foot of the hill that made up the city. There, she showed them the Mirror.
“I can let you see, though I cannot tell you what you will see. It could be the past, the present, possible futures. Not everything you see will come to pass. But better that you not strive to see any one thing, and let the Mirror choose. Those images are more valuable.”
Gwen nodded. “I'll look.”
She stepped onto the foot of the pedestal and peered over the brim. “Do not touch the water,” Galadriel said.
Gwen stood there for several minutes, before she flung herself away. “The Shire's burning,” she cried, turning to Morgana. “I should return home, to help. But I can't. I swore to help you and to never let you travel alone, and I won't. I'll stay here, with you. But when we return, heads will roll.”
Morgana held Gwen until her tears abated. She detached herself and looked up at Galadriel. “I'll look now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have to.” That's all there was to it. Carrying the Ring to Mordor meant she needed every advantage she could find.
She stepped onto the pedestal, and looked into the water. She saw scenes she couldn't understand-- of cities burning, of ships plundering, of Gandalf in white (it couldn't possibly be Nimueh, not with that beard), and then the Mirror went dark. An Eye appeared, cat-eyed and rimmed with fire. It roved to and fro, and Morgana jerked away, tumbling off the pedestal. Gwen rushed to her side. “I'm fine,” she said. “Was that--”
“Yes. He is on my mind as well. For I bear one of the Three, the hidden Elven Rings of Power. Your Ring, though… I could take it, and become a queen. All would love me and despair." She streched out a hand toward Morgana, and then dropped it to her side. “But that is not my path. For many years, I had wondered what I would do if the Ring came within reach. Now I know. I resist the temptation to take it from you, Morgana. The world will follow its course, and I will return home, in the West.”
“Home?” Gwen asked.
Galadriel sat down on the grass. “I was born in Valinor, in Elvenhome, and left long ago. I refused to return when I had the opportunity. I did not wish to leave Middle-earth.” She sighed. “I now have little choice. The world is becoming a mortal's world. Men are the dominant power now, and shall be forevermore. There is no room for Elves. That's what this war means to us, Morgana. Middle-earth is safe, but we lose our homes. Elves will fade into legend and myth. It is an acceptable sacrifice, though one many of us wish we didn't have to make.”
“But that's the nature of sacrifices, isn't it?” Gwen said. “That you don't want to do it, but you do it anyway?”
Galadriel nodded, a small, sad smile on her face. A few moments later, she stood up. “It is time for you to leave. Boats will be prepared for you.”
Morgana looked at Gwen, unsurprised. “Thank you.”
The eight left the next day, carrying with them gifts from Galadriel and Celeborn: Aragorn a new sheath for his sword, Legolas a new bow, Arthur and Merlin well-crafted Elvish swords to replace the old ones they'd brought from the Shire, Boromir a gold belt, and Gimli three hairs from Galadriel's head. Gwen didn't open the box of earth save to see what was in it. She closed it immediately and tucked it into her pack. It was of no use yet, Morgana knew, thinking about Gwen's vision in the mirror. Morgana received a phial, filled with water that shone with the light from Eärendil's star. She tucked it away reverently, knowing that it would come in use one day. For that was the theme: all the gifts were practical (save Gimli's, but then, courtesy between the Elves and Dwarves was hard-won, and yet he had managed). And all of them received lembas, the Elf-food they would need to eat far less of than regular supplies. They spent ten days on the Anduin River, sailing to Amon Hen, where they had to decide what their course was. For the route to Minas Tirith lay on one side of the River, while the route to Mordor lay on the other. With Gandalf gone, the decision was harder than it should have been. From the frown Aragorn wore when he thought no one was looking, Morgana knew he was torn in two. All Morgana knew was that she was taking Gwen with her, and probably her cousins. Hobbits had no place in grand battles, and could hide in places that a Big Person wouldn't fit. The problem was that Gollum had followed them from Moria, which only Aragorn, Gwen, and she knew. He would be problematic at best, but Merlin could control him. Hopefully.
Still, there wasn't a choice for her. The Ring had to be destroyed. Still, to escape the brooding silence in the camp on the beach, she headed into the forest, making for the top of the hill. There, maybe, she would find a bit of peace and maybe discover a way to announce the people she was taking with her. But when she had only been there a few minutes, Boromir showed up, smiling.
“Would you mind if I talked with you a while, Morgana?”
She rolled her eyes. “I have already made my decision, Boromir. I'm going to Mordor, to destroy It. The Ring can do no good.”
“In Sauron's hands, certainly! In Men, we could use it to defeat him, to win. If you take it to Mordor, it won't be safe. Sauron will find you-- and It. The better course--”
Morgana stared at the Man. No longer was he smiling, but frantic, eyes wild. She backed up, and pulled the Ring out of her shirt. At the sight of it, he lunged for her, and she slipped it on. She ran, down the hill. She could feel, see in her mind's eye the forces Sauron was mustering. There was no choice-- she had to leave now. She slipped the Ring off and tucked it under her shirt. She hid underneath a bush, and watched Boromir run by. A few minutes later, she heard crashing in the woods and looked behind her to see orcs cresting the top of the hill. Boromir's horn blew and she took off running. She had to cross the River now.
But when she reached the camp, Gwen was the only person there. Morgana slid to a stop. “Where--?”
“Boromir returned and confessed what he did. Merlin and Arthur went after you, and everyone else went after them, especially when the horn blew.” Gwen looked around the camp. “We need to leave.”
“I wish Arthur and Merlin hadn't run off.” But even as she spoke, Morgana grabbed her pack and tossed it into a boat. Gwen did the same and clambered in. Morgana pushed it off the shore and jumped in. Neither one of them looked behind them as the desperate screams of battle rose into the air. They picked up the oars and began rowing. They had to cross the river. Once they reached the other side, Morgana looked at the distant shore. I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry, Merlin. I wish you could have come with us, but we'll manage. Somehow, Gwen and I will manage.
The two women set off, seeking a path that would bring them into Mordor.
Part 2 | Part 4
Part 3: The Shadow Lies Upon His Tomb
Two months later, after all the scouts had returned and found no sign of the Wraiths, the nine members of the Fellowship left Rivendell. They spent the next several weeks traveling the Misty Mountains, stopping for a day in Hollin while they hid from the crebain likely sent by Nimueh. They hurried toward Caradhas, where they spent a miserable night sheltered under an overhang and only saved by the firewood they'd gathered before they began their ascent. There, Merlin proved his worth for the first time, because he could magically light the fire without revealing himself, unlike Gandalf. After all, no one was watching for a Hobbit casting spells. The company had no choice but to retreat down the mountain, where they spent another miserable night fighting off wolves. Legolas proved invaluable with his bow. So they made the difficult but inevitable decision to face the mines of Moria, a dark place only Gimli wished to see-- and that because it was built by Dwarves Ages ago (and he had relatives who had made an expedition there several years ago). He knew as well as the rest of the company it may no longer be safe, for Balin and his company had never returned from their expedition.
Morgana couldn't help but feel apprehensive, no matter that they had two magic-users and four warriors. Moria was nearly as dark in name as Mordor was in the whispers heard in the Shire. If only Caradhas hadn't defeated them…
But the nine struggled on, scrambling over red stones until they came to an old and decayed track next to a trickling stream-- one that Gandalf said should have been raging. Morgana frowned. Had things changed so much since the last time he'd been there? She glanced ahead, at the wizard and the dwarf keeping pace with him. She had learned so much from-- and about-- Gandalf over the past few months. When she was younger, she'd thought him perfect, but he was proving himself to be just as fallible as any mortal. Now, she didn't quite know what to think. One wizard wasn't enough to stand against Sauron.
One of her hands brushed against the Ring she wore under her shirt, but above the mithril coat Father had given her before she left, and she flinched. Better to keep her mind on the path than wondering if this would work. She had to take it one day at a time. And one day, her-- everyone's-- hard work would be rewarded with the destruction of the Ring. But she had to focus on the now, not the future. She shuddered slightly. All she saw now that she'd left Rivendell was the mountain of fire. She hadn't told Gwen yet, but she was starting to wonder if any of them would survive.
Several hours later, after skirting the lake a dam had created, the nine set up a camp by two large holly trees. Gandalf studied the rock wall behind them, and Gimli with him, but there was no sign of the doors. At least, not until the moon rose and shone its light upon them. Then faint silver tracings appeared: a hammer and anvil, two trees, and a many-pointed star. Gandalf translated the words above the drawings. “The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. The name of the door's creators are written beneath.”
“What does it mean by 'speak, friend, and enter'?” Arthur asked, frowning.
“That's simple. If you know the password, the doors will open for you,” Gimli said. “I wish that I knew it, but the knowledge has passed from us.”
Boromir asked, “What about you, Gandalf? You said you've traveled in Moria before.”
“I do not know it. I traveled in the opposite direction. The doors open outwards, and cannot be forced from this side.” He glared at Boromir.
Merlin said, “What are you going to do?”
Gandalf shifted his glare to Merlin. Undaunted by the look, Merlin said, “Maybe I could help.”
“You don't know enough. Your magic is different than mine, but it is less powerful, and will be of no use.”
A hurt expression crossed Merlin's face, and he walked to the edge of the lake. Morgana turned her back on him, wishing she could comfort him, but knowing he'd prefer to be left alone for at least a couple minutes. Gandalf could have worded that better, especially with the problems Merlin had faced all his life because of his gift. He rejoined the increasingly frustrated group after a few minutes, and Morgana was glad to see Gandalf at least smile at him in apology.
Boromir strode to the edge of the lake and picked up a stone, tossing it in his hand a couple times. “Can't you remember anything that will help?”
Before Gandalf could answer, Boromir threw the stone as far as he could, and it landed with a tiny splash. Morgana winced. She felt something. From the way Merlin reacted, face suddenly pale in the moonlight, she knew she wasn't imagining it. “You shouldn't have thrown that,” Merlin said. “There's something out there. Maybe it was put there to guard this place, so that we would be trapped.”
Aragorn seemingly picked up where her cousin was going. “If we can't cross Caradhas, can't travel in Moria, that leaves us the Gap of Rohan, which passes far too close for Isengard.”
Boromir froze. Legolas quietly said, “And if Nimueh didn't put this creature here, Sauron likely ordered it to come. He suspects someone may come this way with the Ring, and he fears what we may do with it.”
Gandalf spoke in the quiet the conversation had engendered. “Mellon.”
The doors opened slowly, and the company stared at the two stairs, one leading up and one leading down.
“What does mellon mean?” Arthur asked.
“Friend,” Legolas said.
“Fine password,” Gimli snorted.
“It was, for a more peaceful time,” Aragorn said, gathering up the supplies they'd scattered in the couple hours they'd been there. Legolas and Gimli stared daggers at each other before putting their packs on.
“Hurry,” Boromir said, pointing to a fast-moving ripple in the water heading straight for them.
But he was too late-- something grabbed Morgana's ankle and she fell. Gwen drew her knife and hacked at the tentacle. It released her and they scrambled into Moria, followed by Legolas, who had his bow aimed. The rest of the fellowship hurried up the stairs, but the doors slammed shut, and they all heard rocks crashing down. Gandalf sighed. “We have no choice now. Forward we must go.”
They climbed for a few minutes until they reached a landing. There, they rested briefly, eating a quick meal, before continuing. Gandalf led, his staff lit just enough to see the ground in front of them, with Gimli behind him. Legolas and the Hobbits followed, with the Men bringing up the rear.
The mine was dangerous, which apart from not quite knowing the way to go, made the journey in the near-dark even harder. There were cracks and fissures in the floor, tunnels leading off the main route they were traveling, and the possibility of orcs. (Though both Morgana and Gandalf had their Ages-old Elvish blades out, and neither shone blue to indicate their presence, which was a slight comfort.) It was harder for the hobbits, because they occasionally had to jump across cracks that the Big People could step over.
It was hard going, Morgana thought, wiping a hand across her brow. It was hotter than it ought to be underground, which was a cause for worry, though no one brought it up. Not that anyone talked much-- the mines seemed to encourage silence. The only things she heard were footsteps (that sometimes pattered on for a brief moment after the company had stopped, though it didn't sound like an echo) and their breathing. It was unnerving, and the Ring felt more present than usual in her mind. Her mind… It hadn't done this in the Shire or Rivendell, but the farther south they traveled, the more it had begun to weigh on her mind, for it wished to return to Sauron. She could feel that there was evil both ahead of and behind her. That ability was the Ring was good for, apart from the invisibility she'd never deliberately used. She must be on her guard to not “accidentally” use it. In this place, it would be a death wish.
Several hours after they entered the mines, Gandalf stopped at a crossroads. He turned to them. “I have no memory of this place. I am weary, and I suspect that all of you are wearier. We will rest here, in the guard room.” He pointed to a half-open stone door. “I will go first,” he said, shooting a look at Arthur and Merlin, who had rushed ahead. He poked around for a moment before letting anyone else in. Once the company was in the room, he pointed to a hole in the middle of the floor. “An uncovered well. If anyone had fallen in, they would still be falling.”
Arthur nodded, but Merlin said nothing, staring at it with wide eyes. As the company moved around the perimeter of the room, setting up camp, he moved closer. Morgana watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he was doing. But he did nothing except crouch near the rim. When Arthur called to him, he stood up and accidentally knocked a loose stone into it. In the near silence in the room, the plunk and resulting echoes seemed strangely magnified. Merlin winced and Gandalf sighed. “Merlin--”
The sounds of hammers sounded, and they waited in silence for the sound to die down. “Those were signals,” Boromir said. “Someone knows we are here.” He glared at Merlin.
“It was an accident,” Gwen said, moving between the two. “He didn't throw it in.”
“Nevertheless,” Gandalf said, “it may have disturbed something better left sleeping. Take the first watch, Merlin. Everyone else, try to sleep.”
Morgana shook her head, but lay down on the hard stone next to Gwen, who spooned against her. She'd have bruises come morning, no doubt, but this wasn't any worse than other campsites.
Six hours later, after a brief bite to eat, they set off, heading up now instead of down. It was easier going, with no cracks in the floor and no tunnels branching off. Eight hours after they woke up, just when everyone was starting to wonder if they were going to find a place to rest for the night, the walls on either side vanished. Morgana briefly saw Gandalf smile as he turned to them.
“We are finally in the habitable parts of the mine. City, I should say at this point. This is one of the great halls. There should be windows carved into the side of the mountain, but it is obviously night. We'll spend the night here.”
Once they were settled, Merlin hesitantly asked, “Gimli, why did the Dwarves come here?”
“Mithril,” he answered promptly. “It is the wealth of nations, and is even more priceless because there is little left. We delved too deep, and disturbed Durin's Bane. The tales do not tell what type of creature it is, just that it is deadly.”
“But what's mithril?” Arthur asked.
“The most valuable metal in the world,” Gandalf said. “Gorlois had a mail coat of it that he received on his adventure. It's worth more than the Shire, and is likely gathering dust in the Mathom-house, the Shire's museum.”
Morgana's mouth dropped open, and she brushed the metal she wore underneath her shirt. “I never knew that,” she said. “But it isn't in the Mathom-house. My father took it with him when he left the Shire.”
Silence fell on the nine after that, and Morgana couldn't help but think of the Shire. Of the gardens, the people, the lifestyle. She'd longed to leave for her entire childhood, but now, she wished that she'd never desired that. Life Outside was darker and harder than she'd ever imagined. Well, it didn't help that the Ring was the cause. Maybe, after they succeeded, she and Gwen could travel. There was more to see and do than rush headlong into danger. She smiled, knowing Gwen would like that.
When she woke up the next morning, Gandalf greeted her cheerfully. “We should reach the Great Gates and leave Moria today.”
“I am glad,” Gimli said quietly. “Moria has gone dark.”
Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but Aragorn elbowed him. They swiftly moved on, coming into a chamber with a tomb. Once the inscription had been read, Gimli bowed his head and placed a hand on it. “At least we know now that Balin at least reached here. But what happened?”
Gandalf peered around the dimly lit chamber. “Orcs, most likely. We have been fortunate to not encounter any.” He moved swiftly to something and picked it up. He turned the pages, muttering to himself. “Yes, it was orcs.” He handed the book to Gimli. “This belongs to you now.” He nodded and thrust it into his pack as drums sounded in the deep. “We have been discovered, and we have miles to travel. We must travel down now, for we are above the level of the Gates,” Gandalf said.
Everyone drew their weapons, and Gwen bit her lip when Sting and Glamdring shone. Gandalf hurried to the door and glanced out. “Orcs, and Uruks from Mordor are among them. There may also be a cave-troll.”
The battle was soon joined, but they managed to fight the first wave off. Morgana was dealt a harsh blow when an orc-chieftain nearly pinned her, and only her mithril coat saved her. They ran from the room-- Morgana was carried, stunned by the blow-- and down several flights of stairs. Gandalf somehow managed to block the passage behind them, not allowing Merlin to help, and they continued downwards, heading toward the Gates.
They took a brief rest so everyone could catch their breath, and Aragorn asked Gandalf what happened when he blocked the passage.
“I fear I have met my match, son of Arathorn. The spell I used nearly failed, and the chamber collapsed. Something dark and powerful is buried there, and I hope that it cannot escape. I fear it may.”
They resumed traveling, moving as swiftly as possible, until they reached a hall that was hot. Merlin stopped. “I feel--”
“I know,” Gandalf said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Morgana?”
“It's dark, even with the fires burning in the fissures in the floor. Something's coming.”
Gandalf peered at the company. “Run. Across the Bridge, up the stairs, along the wide road, and through the First Hall. Go. I will follow.”
Gimli led the way, the hobbits following. Morgana tried to keep up with him, but she kept glancing over her shoulder at Gandalf. He looked weary, older than she had ever seen him. She nearly stumbled and Gwen caught her arm. After that, she paid attention to her path. And then the narrow Bridge loomed in front of them. Merlin gamely followed Gimli to the other side, but Arthur was cautious and walked more slowly. Gwen stayed close behind Morgana. She could hear the footsteps of the others, but didn't look behind her until she'd safely reached the other side. The chasm was dark and bottomless, and she had no desire to fall in.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, flinching from an arrow that clattered off the stone inches above his head. “Can you shield us?”
Morgana saw him stretch out his hand out of the corner of her eye. But her attention was focused on the orcs and how they were retreating to either side. Something was coming-- no, something was there. It leaped across the flaming fissure, and was lit up, by the fire behind it and the fire on it. It held a whip and a sword, and Gandalf stopped running the middle of the Bridge. Aragorn and Boromir stopped just at this side.
Gwen said, “What is it?”
Legolas said, voice cracking, “A Balrog. We cannot hope to fight it. If Gandalf falls, we will die.”
Gandalf held his position as the Balrog advanced. Morgana heard him shout, “You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, son of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.”
The Balrog said nothing, and Morgana's fingernails bit into the palm of her hands as it stepped onto the bridge. The two swords clashed, and the Balrog's broke. Gandalf sheathed Glamdring and grabbed his staff with both hands, striking the stone of the bridge with its butt. The staff broke as the bridge cracked in half. The Balrog fell, but the whip caught Gandalf and dragged him down. He looked up at them, cried, “Run!” and disappeared into the chasm.
“No!” she heard Merlin whisper. Arthur tried to grab him as he rushed forward, but Boromir picked him up and ran up the stairs. Morgana swiftly followed. Merlin's shield had broken and arrows once again became a threat.
They ran the route Gandalf had described, Merlin having been put down when they reached the top of the stairs. He cried as he ran. Once they were out in the sunshine, out of range of arrows from the mines, they stopped. Morgana dropped to the ground. Gandalf was dead. He'd been there her entire life, and now he was gone. She'd considered him a friend, no matter that he was a wizard and many times her age. He'd been there for her and protected her. So why hadn't seen she this? Because of the Ring. She glared at it, though it lay hidden under her shirt. If it wasn't for the Ring, none of this would have happened. Gandalf, I will avenge you, she swore. The Ring will be destroyed.
She looked up and saw Merlin. For all that Gandalf meant to her, she knew he meant more to him. He was the one of the first people to truly accept Merlin and his magic, and he was teaching him how to use it. Now he had no one to turn to for help. Morgana stood up and walked over to him, putting an arm over his shoulders. They stood like that until Aragorn said they had to continue moving, though they did dress their wounds (and were suitably shocked when Morgana revealed the mithril coat that had saved her life).
They crossed the Nimrodel at dusk, into Lothlórien. Boromir was far from happy at entering into Lórien, for he claimed that in Minas Tirith, those who entered never left unscathed. Aragorn was displeased to hear that. After all, the leaders of the country were Arwen's mother's parents, and he himself had spent time there in earlier years. The company spent the night in a talan, a platform in the trees, while Elves kept watch and killed the orcs who had followed them from Moria. After two days' march, the Elf lead them into Lórien proper: the city of Caras Galadhon. There, they met Galadriel and Celeborn, the rulers of Lórien, for the first time. Morgana didn't quite know what to think of their meeting. She knew Galadriel had entered her mind, after they had recounted their tale, but she also felt from that contact that she meant no harm. Boromir wasn't so sure, but then, Morgana had never gotten along with him, because of his attitude toward the Ring, his belief men were superior, and disgust at her and Gwen's relationship. She'd kept away from him as much as possible, because Legolas and Gimli had enough of a problem with each other that she knew Gandalf wouldn't be pleased to deal with another escalating antagonism. Plus, he would be leaving for Minas Tirith. She could put up with him until then. Now, though, she was starting to worry. What if he didn't leave?
Still, she put it out of her mind. Lórien was different-- peaceful and timeless. The lack of danger let them mourn, but as days passed, she grew more anxious. Every moment they spent here gave Sauron a chance to grow more powerful. And yet, no one suggested leaving. Still, as she looked at Gwen reclining naked next to her in the privacy of their own pavilion, there were benefits to being here.
The next day, while she and Gwen were out walking at dusk, listening to the Elves sing in the trees, Morgana spotted Galadriel. The hobbits followed her-- with invitation-- to a small grotto at the foot of the hill that made up the city. There, she showed them the Mirror.
“I can let you see, though I cannot tell you what you will see. It could be the past, the present, possible futures. Not everything you see will come to pass. But better that you not strive to see any one thing, and let the Mirror choose. Those images are more valuable.”
Gwen nodded. “I'll look.”
She stepped onto the foot of the pedestal and peered over the brim. “Do not touch the water,” Galadriel said.
Gwen stood there for several minutes, before she flung herself away. “The Shire's burning,” she cried, turning to Morgana. “I should return home, to help. But I can't. I swore to help you and to never let you travel alone, and I won't. I'll stay here, with you. But when we return, heads will roll.”
Morgana held Gwen until her tears abated. She detached herself and looked up at Galadriel. “I'll look now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have to.” That's all there was to it. Carrying the Ring to Mordor meant she needed every advantage she could find.
She stepped onto the pedestal, and looked into the water. She saw scenes she couldn't understand-- of cities burning, of ships plundering, of Gandalf in white (it couldn't possibly be Nimueh, not with that beard), and then the Mirror went dark. An Eye appeared, cat-eyed and rimmed with fire. It roved to and fro, and Morgana jerked away, tumbling off the pedestal. Gwen rushed to her side. “I'm fine,” she said. “Was that--”
“Yes. He is on my mind as well. For I bear one of the Three, the hidden Elven Rings of Power. Your Ring, though… I could take it, and become a queen. All would love me and despair." She streched out a hand toward Morgana, and then dropped it to her side. “But that is not my path. For many years, I had wondered what I would do if the Ring came within reach. Now I know. I resist the temptation to take it from you, Morgana. The world will follow its course, and I will return home, in the West.”
“Home?” Gwen asked.
Galadriel sat down on the grass. “I was born in Valinor, in Elvenhome, and left long ago. I refused to return when I had the opportunity. I did not wish to leave Middle-earth.” She sighed. “I now have little choice. The world is becoming a mortal's world. Men are the dominant power now, and shall be forevermore. There is no room for Elves. That's what this war means to us, Morgana. Middle-earth is safe, but we lose our homes. Elves will fade into legend and myth. It is an acceptable sacrifice, though one many of us wish we didn't have to make.”
“But that's the nature of sacrifices, isn't it?” Gwen said. “That you don't want to do it, but you do it anyway?”
Galadriel nodded, a small, sad smile on her face. A few moments later, she stood up. “It is time for you to leave. Boats will be prepared for you.”
Morgana looked at Gwen, unsurprised. “Thank you.”
The eight left the next day, carrying with them gifts from Galadriel and Celeborn: Aragorn a new sheath for his sword, Legolas a new bow, Arthur and Merlin well-crafted Elvish swords to replace the old ones they'd brought from the Shire, Boromir a gold belt, and Gimli three hairs from Galadriel's head. Gwen didn't open the box of earth save to see what was in it. She closed it immediately and tucked it into her pack. It was of no use yet, Morgana knew, thinking about Gwen's vision in the mirror. Morgana received a phial, filled with water that shone with the light from Eärendil's star. She tucked it away reverently, knowing that it would come in use one day. For that was the theme: all the gifts were practical (save Gimli's, but then, courtesy between the Elves and Dwarves was hard-won, and yet he had managed). And all of them received lembas, the Elf-food they would need to eat far less of than regular supplies. They spent ten days on the Anduin River, sailing to Amon Hen, where they had to decide what their course was. For the route to Minas Tirith lay on one side of the River, while the route to Mordor lay on the other. With Gandalf gone, the decision was harder than it should have been. From the frown Aragorn wore when he thought no one was looking, Morgana knew he was torn in two. All Morgana knew was that she was taking Gwen with her, and probably her cousins. Hobbits had no place in grand battles, and could hide in places that a Big Person wouldn't fit. The problem was that Gollum had followed them from Moria, which only Aragorn, Gwen, and she knew. He would be problematic at best, but Merlin could control him. Hopefully.
Still, there wasn't a choice for her. The Ring had to be destroyed. Still, to escape the brooding silence in the camp on the beach, she headed into the forest, making for the top of the hill. There, maybe, she would find a bit of peace and maybe discover a way to announce the people she was taking with her. But when she had only been there a few minutes, Boromir showed up, smiling.
“Would you mind if I talked with you a while, Morgana?”
She rolled her eyes. “I have already made my decision, Boromir. I'm going to Mordor, to destroy It. The Ring can do no good.”
“In Sauron's hands, certainly! In Men, we could use it to defeat him, to win. If you take it to Mordor, it won't be safe. Sauron will find you-- and It. The better course--”
Morgana stared at the Man. No longer was he smiling, but frantic, eyes wild. She backed up, and pulled the Ring out of her shirt. At the sight of it, he lunged for her, and she slipped it on. She ran, down the hill. She could feel, see in her mind's eye the forces Sauron was mustering. There was no choice-- she had to leave now. She slipped the Ring off and tucked it under her shirt. She hid underneath a bush, and watched Boromir run by. A few minutes later, she heard crashing in the woods and looked behind her to see orcs cresting the top of the hill. Boromir's horn blew and she took off running. She had to cross the River now.
But when she reached the camp, Gwen was the only person there. Morgana slid to a stop. “Where--?”
“Boromir returned and confessed what he did. Merlin and Arthur went after you, and everyone else went after them, especially when the horn blew.” Gwen looked around the camp. “We need to leave.”
“I wish Arthur and Merlin hadn't run off.” But even as she spoke, Morgana grabbed her pack and tossed it into a boat. Gwen did the same and clambered in. Morgana pushed it off the shore and jumped in. Neither one of them looked behind them as the desperate screams of battle rose into the air. They picked up the oars and began rowing. They had to cross the river. Once they reached the other side, Morgana looked at the distant shore. I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry, Merlin. I wish you could have come with us, but we'll manage. Somehow, Gwen and I will manage.
The two women set off, seeking a path that would bring them into Mordor.
Part 2 | Part 4