"The entire universe has been neatly divided into things to (a) mate with, (b) eat, (c) run away from, and (d) rocks."
― Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites
10. Drums, Shadows and Flame
Gandalf had been right; when Kat opened her eyes, the cave was lit by a faint morning light, streaming down from a shaft in the ceiling. Just being able to see her surroundings made her feel good, optimistic even. They would manage this, and soon be out on the other side of the mine. She knew it.
Legolas' breathing told her he was awake too, and when she turned to look at him she saw he was calmly gazing at the strip of sunshine. He seemed unusually relaxed, obviously positively affected by the light as well.
"Suilad, miaulig nín," he murmured, turning his gaze to her.
I'm afraid I will mix it up with Westron, or I'd ask you to teach me that language. It's beautiful. What did you say? Apart from 'suilad', I remember that's a greeting.
'Miaulig nín' means 'my little cat' – from 'miaulin', a female cat, and the diminutive 'ig' to indicate your small size. He smirked.
I prefer vertically challenged, she scoffed. And besides, I'm a woman.
He ruffled her fur. "Adanig nín." My little human.
Kat broke eye contact, suddenly aware of a familiar, fuzzy feeling in her chest. Legolas' voice was always pleasant, but it was mesmerizing when he spoke his own language. In combination with that soft smile he was irresistible. And he had called her 'his'.
She mentally scolded herself; this was the worst time and place to acquire a crush on someone! Especially in this form. A cat fancying an elf was just... weird. Maybe, after all this was over she would be herself, and then... But it was no use thinking of that now.
Glancing at him again, she noticed his eyes were still on her, with a far too knowing look for her liking.
Oh, for Heaven's sake! Get a grip, woman.
/\_,,_/\
( o _ O)
After breakfast, the company hurried off again, anxious to leave Moria behind them as soon as possible. Even Gimli admitted to being disappointed with the place, and of his relatives there had been no trace so far.
On the other end of the pillared cave was a wide corridor, and a shard of light spilled out from a half-open door to the right. Inside they found a dusty chamber, full of cobwebs, broken weapons and old bones, and in its center stood what looked like a square stone coffin. A bright beam shone upon it from another shaft in the ceiling, where a patch of clear sky was visible far above. The company blinked owlishly in the sunlight, dazzled after being so long in the dark.
As they carefully moved further in, the dust gushed into Kat's face, making her sneeze.
"That must be the cutest sound I've ever heard," said Merry, grinning.
Kat could not reply, only sneeze again. When she finally stopped, she saw that the others were examining the coffin and jumped up on top of it to see better. There were runes engraved into it, curiously familiar ones. This was how the Vikings wrote, wasn't it? How could they use the same system here, in another world? Or was the likeness a coincidence?
When they got out of Moria, she must remember to ask Gandalf about that. A wise wizard like him could probably explain it.
"Balin son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," read Gandalf solemnly.
"He is dead then," said Frodo.
Gimli silently covered his face with his hood, his broad shoulders slumping.
Who was Balin?
Gimli's cousin, I think. Legolas sounded distracted. He was looking longingly at the skylight, not really paying attention to what was happening in the room.
Kat hopped down from the coffin and tentatively rubbed her body against the dwarf's boots. Though he had not said anything and his eyes were dry, she could sense the sadness radiating from him. He was obviously mourning the loss of his relative, and her natural reaction was to try to comfort him even though they were not friends as such.
To her surprise, Gimli squatted beside her and patted her awkwardly on the head. He mumbled something, and she understood most of it. "It's alright. I'd already feared the worst. This place ... too empty."
Gandalf was examining some broken chests along the walls and returned with a dusty, dishevelled book. Gimli and Frodo peeked over his shoulder as he opened it and began to read. It was a journal over the first years of Balin's colony, but many pages were missing.
Legolas finally tore his eyes from the sky and translated to Kat: Balin and his friends came here some thirty years ago, planning to clear the mines and rebuild the old dwarf city. They fought their way from hall to hall, driving out orcs as they went. In the fifth year, they reached the Hollin gate. But then came some sort of disaster... more orcs arrived from outside, shooting Balin in the back, and they reconquered the halls, one by one.
Gandalf read the last part slowly enough for Kat to understand: "The Watcher in the Water took Óin. We cannot get out. The end comes... Drums in the deep. They are coming." He stopped; there was nothing more written.
The ominous words chilled Kat to the bone. The Watcher in the Water? She shuddered, remembering the snaky lake monster which would have taken Frodo if Sam had been less quick to react. Looking at the hobbits, she knew they were thinking the same thing.
Kat regarded all the bones and broken weapons around her under their layers of dust. One of those skulls had probably belonged to the dwarf writing the book. He and his friends had died in this chamber, after recording the colony's tragic fate for the afterworld, protecting the book and Balin's tomb with their lives. We cannot get out. They are coming.
There was a short discussion about where to go next; the chamber had two doors, one smaller leading to a stairway, and the larger entrance they had come through. Gandalf had just settled on returning to the hall with the pillars, when a loud boom made the floor vibrate and more dust clouds rise.
Dismayed, the warriors jumped to attention. Two more booms followed, like from a giant's bass drum. The sound penetrated Kat's body, making her teeth rattle and her heart beat irregularly.
Drums in the deep.
They heard blasts of horns in the distance, accompanied by vaguely humanoid shrieks and the tramping of many feet.
Legolas' eyes were wide. "They are coming!"
"We cannot get out!" growled Gimli.
It was as if the events recorded in the book were repeating themselves; the same drums, the same lines spoken. Would they meet the same fate too?
"Trapped!" groaned Gandalf. "Why did I delay?" The rest of his words were drenched in more drum beats.
The sounds from the enemy were close now; their horns and drums echoing between the walls of the corridor, their running feet, their shrill battle-cries. But the Fellowship contributed with their own, defiant sounds: rings of metal as they drew their swords, and the twang of string as Legolas nimbly strung his bow. Gandalf's and Frodo's swords shone with an eerie, bluish light.
Kat searched for a spot where she could be out of their way, and decided on a broken chest by the other exit. When she jumped into it, there was a sickening crunch as an old skull broke in shards. She swallowed hard, more than a little nauseous, mingled with disgust and fear. Then she anxiously peeked out to see what would happen at the main entrance.
Gandalf stood in front of the half-open door, tall and fierce like that time in Hollin with the wargs, his glowing sword in one hand and his staff in the other. He yelled something at the approaching foe, perhaps a challenge or a curse, but they only responded with a cackle of laughter. And the terrifying drum continued: boom, boom, boom; a perpetual roll of thunder in the deep.
The wizard poked his staff out and a bright flash blasted from its tip, causing the unseen host to cry out in fright and retreat some way. Gandalf risked a peek through the door, but quickly retracted his head. "There are orcs, very many," he said dismally, and added something about Mordor and a troll, and that they had no hope to escape that way.
Boromir muttered that they had no hope to escape at all, for the enemy would soon come through the other door too.
Kat had neither seen orcs or trolls, and had not the slightest wish to do so. Only this morning she had been so hopeful, but now it was all coming apart. They would die; trapped in this tomb like the dwarves before them, with monsters pouring at them from all sides.
Aragorn went over to the doorway beside her, listening down the stairs. "There is no sound here as far as I can tell." He turned to her. "Do you hear anything with your cat's ears?"
She shook her head. He was right, the orcs had not yet come this way. Could there be a chance to escape? She felt a tiny flicker of hope.
"We shall delay the enemy first," said Aragorn, feeling the sharp edge of his sword. "Make them fear us."
Can you ask him why? Kat thought to Legolas. Why can't we run for it now?
Because the orcs are too close. They would follow right behind us, showering arrows on our backs. We have to make them realize this place is well guarded, forcing them to hesitate.
The enemy seemed to have overcome its initial reaction to Gandalf's flashing staff, and heavy footsteps were approaching again. Very heavy, more so than the previous ones. Was this the troll?
Boromir pressed his shoulder against the entrance door, forcing it shut, and bolted it as best he could with broken swords and pieces of rubble. The others meanwhile spread out in a semicircle behind him, tense and ready.
A ponderous blow struck the door, sending a tremor through the old wood, but it did not break. Instead it began to creak open, relentlessly pushing back Boromir's makeshift wedges. A monstrous arm came through the gap, bulging with muscles and covered in green, reptile-like scale, and then a massive, flat foot.
Boromir bore down on the arm with all his might, but with a loud clang his sword was deflected, flying from his hand. He might as well have tried to sever a piece of rock.
Frodo surprisingly came to his aid, crying: "The Shire!" as he stabbed the troll foot with his dagger. The blue blade sank deep into the dark flesh, and with a hooting bawl the creature retreated, nearly pulling Frodo with it before the hobbit could tug his weapon free. The black blood covering the blade was smoking, and it had an almost chemical, acidic stench, which Kat felt all the way back at her hiding place.
Boromir slammed the door shut behind the monster, holding it close with his back, panting from the exertion.
"One for the Shire!" Aragorn grinned almost merrily, praising the hobbit's bravery and the quality of his blade. The man's face was flushed with excitement. Surprised, Kat realized he actually enjoyed this.
Someone pounded on the door again, hammeringing powerful blows against it, and despite Boromir's best effort it soon tore wide open. A rain of black arrows flew in, striking the wall above Kat and bouncing down all around her.
Her ear burned briefly when one of them touched it, but in the commotion she instantly forgot the pain.
With another hornblast, a group of short, bow-legged creatures ran inside. Their skin appeared almost gray, covered in hideous scars, and their snarling mouths were full of yellowing fangs. They wore dirty leather armour, and the stench emanating from them was strong; a mix of rotting meat, badly healed wounds and blood.
Orcs! So this was what they looked like.
The orcs charged the Fellowship, wielding their curved swords and screaming obscenities in Westron, some of which Pippin had secretly taught Kat during their journey in what felt like ages ago.
The defenders held out valiantly; Aragorn and Boromir slaughtered one orc after another with seeming ease, and Legolas shot two through their necks. Gimli cut the legs off one and Sam pierced another with his dagger. When a dozen or so were down, the rest of them scurried off in fear, having obviously not expected such harsh resistance.
Kat cheered mentally. They did it! They won!
The tangy smell of blood, entrails and emptied bowels was heavy in the air, and would probably have made her sick had she been a human. Now it smelled like prey. Like victory.
Gandalf soon brought her out of her illusion, as he yelled for them to flee before the troll returned. They had not won; in the deep, the drums still boomed and more enemies came running down the corridor. But there was not time to escape, for now a new orc filled up the doorway. This was twice the size of its fellows, and protected by both a full suit of black chainmail and a shield. Behind it, smaller orcs huddled as their leader jumped over the heap of corpses and into the chamber, armed with a long, crude spear.
Boromir fearlessly charged, but the orc easily deflected his sword with its shield. With inhuman speed, it evaded Aragorn's strike as well, throwing its spear straight at Frodo. The hobbit flew through the room and crashed into the wall next to Kat with a dull thud, hanging limply from the spear, nailed through the side of his chest. She meowed in panic and tried to reach him, but Sam was already there, whimpering as he hacked the shaft off with his dagger.
Cradling his friend in his arms, Sam murmured soothing words. Kat noticed he was bleeding from his head, a slow trickle making his brown curls look black, but surprisingly Frodo appeared unhurt as far as her animal senses could tell.
Further away, Aragorn dealt a mighty strike to the tall orc, cleaving both its helmet and its head in halves. Again the smaller orcs fled, with the human warriors on their heels.
The drums continued relentlessly in the deep, announcing more foes, and Gandalf shouted desperately: "Run for it!"
Boromir tried to wedge the main entrance shut again while Aragorn scooped Frodo up in his arms, but the hobbit wriggled down, saying he was perfectly able to walk by himself. Aragorn was shocked; Frodo had been impaled by a spear, he should be dead. But there was no time to ponder over this mystery, they had to leave.
The hobbits hurried down the stairs and Boromir came next, dragging a reluctant Gimli along; he had lingered by the coffin to say a last farewell to his cousin. Legolas picked up Kat and followed suit. Only Gandalf stayed to cover their retreat, despite Aragorn's desperate plea for him to join them.
"Do as I say!" demanded the wizard sternly. "Go!"
The stairs were completely dark, with neither a light shaft nor the wizard's staff to guide them, and the descent went nerve-rackingly slow.
Kat's ear was beginning to throb dully and she smelled blood, but it was probably only a scratch. She had more important things to worry about. Were they followed? And when would Gandalf come?
Surely the old wizard had not meant to let himself be killed for their sake? That would be stupid. The Fellowship needed him; he was their leader, and in addition he must help Kat figure out who she was supposed to save.
Finally they had reached the bottom and stopped to huddle close by one another, peering anxiously back up where a faint glimmer indicated Gandalf still standing guard by the door, holding his staff.
Under their feet, the ground trembled with each boom, boom, boom from the drums.
Suddenly there was a flash of white, followed by a rumble of shattering stone. The drums went crazy, pounding faster, and from the stairs Gandalf came tumbling down.
He says he was nearly killed by a foe mightier than him. Not surprisingly, the elf sounded deeply shaken; the light had gone out again and above the stairs was apparently an enemy that even Gandalf could not beat.
Accompanied by the sound of the drums, the company stumbled onward with Gandalf in the lead, muttering to himself too silently for Kat to understand. He also sounded scared. The combination of the impenetrable darkness, the wizard's fear, and the unknown horror behind them turned the walk into a veritable nightmare.
On and on they went, mostly straight, but every once in a while down more steps. At last Gandalf stopped and sank to the ground.
He says he must rest, thought Legolas nervously.
I can't hear anyone following, and the drums are silent. Maybe they stayed in the tomb?
I hope so. He drew in a shaky breath and sat down. I guess I had better rest my legs as well. Who knows when I may need to run.
Don't worry, thought Kat unconvincingly. She was trembling worse than an aspen leaf. Legolas hugged her close and she poked her nose into the crook of his neck. He smelled like sweat and fear, but also of his own, comforting scent.
Now Gandalf is telling what happened up there. He was creating a spell to seal the door when he heard the orcs on the other side talk of fire, and then something powerful came into the chamber, scaring them into silence. It touched the door from the other side, perceiving Gandalf and his spell through it, and sent a counterspell so strong it almost broke him. Gandalf tried to parry with a Word of Power, but that made the door shatter and the roof of the chamber crumble. Before he fell down the stairs by the sheer force of that, he saw something dark and smoky inside. That is why he is so exhausted he cannot even light his staff. But on a positive note, he seems to think the stonefall caught our pursuers, hindering them from following us.
"Now, what about you, Frodo?" said Gandalf, trying to sound more cheerful.
"What about me?" the hobbit replied, adding that he was bruised and in pain but not too badly.
"Hobbits must be made of tough stuff," said Aragorn.
"There is more about you than meets the eye," Gandalf agreed.
With that, the break was over and they continued.
After a while it was becoming warmer, and they noticed a red glow ahead.
"Fire," muttered Gandalf. The orcs had spoken of fire. Had they set the mines on fire to stop the Fellowship? It certainly seemed so, for the nearer they came, the warmer it got, and the light flickered on the distant walls. But they had no choice; there was no way but forward.
Gandalf went ahead to scout and quickly returned with the news that they were near the exit, and that he had discovered the source of the fire. "Come and look!"
The company followed him into another vast hall, similar to the one where they had slept before, and saw that on one end a great chasm had opened in the black stone floor. Flame and smoke came from the crack, creating long, dancing shadows on the surrounding pillars.
Gandalf explained that the fire went right across the main road, so had they come the way he initially had intended, they would have been trapped. But now, with luck, the fissure would be between them and the pursuing enemy!
They hurried across the smooth floor, but to their dismay that horrible sound instantly began again: boom, boom, boom. Never had Kat felt more tiny and exposed.
"If the sun shines outside we may still escape! After me," cried Gandalf, running before them faster than it should be possible for such an old man.
They heard horns blowing and the patter of many feet. Shrill orc shrieks and yells echoed between the walls, and an arrow soared by over their heads.
The feet stopped but the shrieks grew louder. Boromir looked over his shoulder and laughed in glee. "The fire has cut them off!"
"Look ahead," warned Gandalf. "The bridge is near!"
From her vantage point on Legolas' shoulder, Kat saw what he was talking of, and her stomach plummeted. A narrow strip of stone spanned a deep, black abyss, and there, far away on the other side was a huge doorway; the exit.
Are we going over that?
Aye.
But there are no rails or anything! I can't. I can't do it. It's not safe!
"Hush now, adanig nín." Legolas' low voice was soothing. He seemed not afraid anymore, not here in the expansive, airy hall with the door out of Moria within sight.
They had reached the bridge, and despite her better knowledge, Kat looked down. She regretted it instantly when the familiar nausea caught her. I'm going to throw up.
Do not worry. I shall carry you.
Your clothes will be ruined.
A small price to pay.
Gandalf was just preparing to send them out one by one, when suddenly an arrow hit Frodo, but for some reason it bounced harmlessly off his back. Another arrow struck Gandalf's hat.
The old man's bushy eyebrows drew together. "The nerve!" he growled under his breath.
Legolas turned around, nocking an arrow of his own to retaliate. Kat saw the many orcs milling about behind the fire, and among them two trolls were building a bridge across it with huge slabs of rock.
Suddenly Legolas drew in a sharp breath and cried out in shock, involuntarily dropping his arrow. Kat felt the surge of sheer panic that went through his body. Something was coming up behind the fire, something huge and dark, a great, shadowy giant. The orcs fled before it in all directions.
The shadow easily leaped across the burning fissure and the fire enveloped it, clothing it in flame like a mantle. It held a blazing sword in one hand, and a multi-tailed whip in the other.
"Ai! Ai! A balrog! A balrog is come!" wailed Legolas.
"Durin's Bane!" Gimli dropped his axe and covered his eyes.
Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff, muttering to himself. He looked exhausted.
The balrog was approaching with speed, flames billowing around its head like a burning mane, and behind it a horde of orcs surged over the slab bridges created by the trolls.
A horn blasted proudly right behind Kat. She started, almost peeing herself before she saw it was Boromir. The sound seemed to encourage his fellows, and across the hall the enemy hesitated. But only for a moment, soon they resumed their charge.
"Over the bridge!" shouted Gandalf. "Fly!"
Gimli obediently started out across the black gorge and after him went the hobbits in a single file. Kat looked at them, awed of their bravery. If her life depended upon it, she could not have walked over that by herself. Her claws dug deep into Legolas' shoulder as he began to run, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, paralyzed with fear.
Gandalf had stopped in the middle of the bridge, and the rest of the Fellowship halted, unwilling to leave their leader behind.
The balrog stood before him now, towering impossibly high above the old man, its nostrils flaming and smoking. The wizard looked so small in his gray coat and blue hat, still with a black orc arrow embedded into it, and his sword was tiny compared to the balrog's burning blade and long, dancing whip. Yet, he stood firm.
"You cannot pass!" His voice was strong, teeming with power and authority. The orcs stopped and the hall suddenly grew very silent. "Go back to the shadow. You cannot pass."
The balrog said nothing. Its flames flickered and waned, but instead it grew darker, blacker. It took a step onto the bridge, and while doing so it grew to even greater height. From its back it spread two wings so enormous they spanned from one wall to the other, and its head nearly touched the cave ceiling far above. Kat felt pure evil emanating from it, and it was the most horrible feeling she had ever experienced. Under her paws, Legolas struggled to breathe and staggered backwards.
Gandalf remained unmoving, not budging a millimeter.
The burning sword surged down upon him, but he met it with impossible strength, his blade flaming blue against the other's dull red. With a clash and a bolt of light the balrog's weapon shattered, imploding in a shower of sparks and smoldering ash.
Gandalf swayed a little. "You cannot pass," he said.
The balrog hissed and swung its whip, producing a sharp crack.
"He cannot stand alone!" Aragorn ran back to the bridge. "Elendil!"
"Gondor!" Boromir followed closely behind.
Before they could reach him, Gandalf raised his staff, and with a strained shout he made the bridge collapse under the burning monster's feet. The staff splintered and fell into the abyss, and with it tumbled the balrog in a rain of stones. Its roar was so terrible the entire cave trembled and shook.
All went silent, until suddenly a shadowy hand shot up, the one holding the whip, and it lashed its cruel weapon one last time. The thongs curled tightly around Gandalf's leg.
The wizard fell to his knees and was dragged towards the gap. "Fly you fools!" he cried. Then he slid over the edge and was gone.
A/N:
Phew, this chapter was intense to write... *Taking deep breaths to calm down*
I hope you enjoyed reading it, and that you're not too sad about Gandalf. We shall hope it was not he Kat was supposed to save.
Image Credits:
Screenshot from the Lord of the Rings movies.