Prophet (a LOTR fanfic)

Balin's tomb

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold, or jewels, but mithril."

We all leaned over the edge of the chasm, peering down miles of mine shafts as light from Gandalf's staff bounced off the wealth of precious metal.

We stood transfixed by the wealth of precious metal until the light faded and we grudgingly pulled away from the gaping chasm.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him." Gandalf remarked. I let out a tired sigh, remembering the company of dwarves I had read about so long ago.

"That was a kingly gift!" Gimli exclaimed.

"Yes!" Gandalf seemed to chuckle a little before he turned serious. "I never told him, but it's worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

Shaking out of my somber thoughts, I glanced at Frodo, shock flashing across the hobbit's face. He covered it up quickly enough though, and we trudged on through the darkness. We only stopped when we came to the foot of a staircase so steep it looked as though we would have to climb it as one would climb a ladder.

With a sigh from Gandalf, we started up the stone single file as to not disturb the myriad of dwarven skeletons, goblets, books, coins, and weaponry resting on the stairs. Finally, the wizard crested the top of the stone steps and disappeared from view, each of us following suit until we were all strewn about in what seemed like neutral ground between the branching of the path, where one might rest and consider his options before proceeding. Each new path was marked by a gemstone-shaped archway, not unlike one would expect of dwarven architecture.

Gandalf sat in the middle, thoroughly confused by this change in course, staring at the passages and smoking a pipe. I sat down where I stopped, automatically drawing my sword and producing a rag to clean the already impeccable blade with. Maybe it was an obsession, but I sure did appreciate my weaponry. Aragorn lit a small fire and soon it was almost cozy.

I felt, rather than saw, Legolas sit down next to me, a current of air the only thing heralding his descent. I glanced over at him, then up at Gandalf, my gaze finally resting on the three doorways.

"Let's make a bet." I stopped polishing my sword and laid it across my knees instead. "Mithrandir is trying to decide which passage to take, yes? Well let's each choose one for him." I glanced over at the elven prince.

"What will be the prize?"

"How about..." I paused for a moment, considering his words, "a favour."

"Done." he said. I raised my hand to shake on it, but he only seemed confused by the gesture, so I hurriedly lowered it again.

"Right, ladies first." I pretended to consider my options. Hopefully he was at least a little fooled by my act. Legolas owing me a favour could be quite useful in the long run. Aragorn looked on in near-amusement, as if he already knew I would win.

"That one," I said, pointing to the door I knew Gandalf would choose. "The one on the far left."

"The middle one." he replied. Then we sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire and the whispers of Gandalf and Frodo. I picked up my sword from my knees and sheathed it, pulling out my dagger instead and cleaning it too.

"Oh! it's that one." Gandalf announced, gesturing to the door I had chosen. I gave Legolas a smug smile and sheathed my dagger with a snap, climbing to my feet.

"He's remembered!" Merry said.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose." Gandalf fearlessly made his way down the stone steps, the hobbits only a few steps behind him. By the time I was to go down, bringing up the rear again, Gandalf had disappeared around the bend of the passage, along with the light his staff provided. It was so dark that I couldn't even see my own hands in front of my face. I stumbled on a step and fell forward, only instead of tumbling down the stairs, I collided with Legolas' back. He didn't budge, only took my arm to steady me. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. It would be so much easier on me if he would just let me fall down the stairs and kill myself. I had been to Middle Earth now, I could die happy. No regrets.

We reached the bottom of the stairs without further incident, the rest of the fellowship clogging up the path behind Gandalf. His staff flared, light emitting from it, casting dark shadows on the floor and illuminating the massive pillars holding up the roof.

"Behold, the great realm of the dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

"There's an eye opener and no mistake." Sam said. They all seemed flabbergasted by the sheer size of the place. I was too of course, seeing it in person is always more amazing than anything on T.V.

We slowly trailed behind Gandalf, still too amazed to be focused on the task at hand. Gimli's shout is what brought us all out of our awe. The dwarf ran over piles of skeletons, not disturbing a single one, to rush through a wooden door stuck with arrows.

"Gimli!" Gandalf cried.

Balin's tomb. I paled, my heart beating frantically in my chest. It would not be long now. I don't know why I was so scared, just a few weeks ago I had practically lived for the fight, and now I dreaded it. maybe it was Gandalf's death looming, or all the dead that littered the mines, or even the mines themselves, with their oppressive darkness and the feeling of danger lurking around every corner.

I broke away from the cautious pace Gandalf was setting and ran after Gimli, also neatly avoiding all the skeletons in my path. In the tomb there were scattered papers and bones all over the floor, broken furniture and weapons. All in all it was a complete mess. I found Gimli kneeling at the foot of the sarcophagus, crying for his lost cousin. I stopped and touched the stone lid where runes had been carved.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, lord of Moria." Gandalf said. I stared at the runes, trying to translate the shapes into words, but I could not seem to manage it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gandalf hand his staff and hat off to Pippin and lean down to lift a book out of a skeleton's grasp.

"Ori." I breathed, recognizing the skeleton.

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall," Gandalf read from the massive tome he was holding. Everyone seemed to stop and listen, even Gimli stopped mourning for Balin long enough to hear Gandalf's words. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep." Gandalf paused to look up at us, then hesitantly turned the page. I glanced behind the old wizard at Pippin, who was slowly backing up towards a stone well, with a skeleton perched precariously on the edge. He looked scared, frantically glancing around the room as if the battle was raging around him, as it soon would be. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming." Now everyone was acting as if goblins were going to jump out and kill us all any second. I looked over to Pippin, and he was right in front of the skeleton, touching an arrow sticking out from between the dwarf's ribs. The skeleton's head toppled off it's body and crashed down the well, causing the rest of the skeleton to lose it's balance and disappear down the well just as fast as the head did.

Everyone froze, listening to the skeleton's descent, while Pippin cringed at each crash of metal against stone.

It grew silent once more, and we all began to relax, Boromir even letting out the breath he had been holding. Gandalf snapped Ori's book closed and turned on Pippin.

"Fool of a Took!" He set the book down on the sarcophagus and snatched his hat and staff from Pippin's hands. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

No sooner had Gandalf stopped speaking than a deep booming sound filled our ears, seeping into our bones. It seemed like a cross between someone's heavy footstep and the beat of a drum. Gandalf's eyes widened and Aragorn glanced over at me in alarm. In return, a bitter smile spread across my face.