Chapter 4

“Oi!  I’m here!”  Pippin’s small cry split into echoes and rolled away into the darkness.  Nothing…   “Where is everybody?”

Sighing, the young hobbit plopped himself down on the inside of the door to wait.  He had made it through the sewage drain in record time and upon emerging at the junction opening, had sat down on the bottom stair and wiped his feet as thoroughly as he could with Frodo’s spare cloak.  He’d wash it before he gave it back.  The drain was completely dry, but still…  Pippin scrubbed and scrubbed, then turned and climbed up the staircase.

It was cold, sitting on the floor, just inside of the closed door.  Pippin laid down one of the halved torches and placed the lit one across it, relieving himself of holding up his arm.  He regarded the small blaze worriedly for a moment, but there was nothing around it to ignite if the wood popped or burned down.  He sniffed disdainfully at the cloak, then sighed and put it on.  At least he wouldn’t freeze…  or starve, either.  Opening the sack, Pippin pulled out the remainder of the bread, the cheese and one of the dried apples, and ate them with relish, washing them down with the rest of Gimli’s water skin.  He thoughtfully considered the other two apples then decided to save them until later. 

That done; fed, warm, and tired, Pippin curled himself into a ball next to the small fire and dropped off to sleep.

* * * * *

It was taking the rest of the Fellowship longer to arrive at the agreed-upon rendezvous point.  They had heavy packs to carry, and debris to crawl over and edge around.  Aragorn, carrying Frodo, had to hand him over to Legolas so he could climb over a fallen archway that had collapsed and almost blocked their path.  Legolas passed him back and they continued on their way.  In the Ranger’s arms, the hobbit laughed softly, his eyes strained.  “I wish you Big Folk would not pass me about so, like a sack of laundry.”

“If you would not let yourself be snatched by enormous lake-beasts who bleed acid, perhaps we would not have to do so,” Aragorn returned, his voice warm.  “How is your leg, and your wrist?”

Frodo stretched out his arm and turned his wrist carefully.  “Both are sore, and feel … feel as if the skin is too small.  But the athelas wrappings have helped very much.  They no longer hurt so badly.”

“Good.   As soon as we get some water into you, you will feel much better.”  Aragorn licked dry, cracking lips, and added under his breath, “Let us hope that is soon.”

“Aragorn?”

“Yes, Frodo?”

“You…  That was your water you used to wash my wounds, wasn’t it?  And to soak the athelas bandages.  My water skin was empty.  You haven’t had any water since, have you?”

The Ranger did not reply immediately, having to concentrate on negotiating a small gap in the broken paving stones.  One stone was tilted up on its end and Aragorn had to turn them sideways and feel his way past it.  “It was my duty and my pleasure, Frodo.  I was glad to have the water to give you.  A little thirst is nothing; I have endured much worse in the Wild.”

“Thank you,” said the hobbit softly.  “I will not forget it, Aragorn.”

Aragorn’s arms tightened around the hobbit for a moment.  “May you live long to remember, Frodo,” he replied with a smile in his voice.  Then he sighed.  “We must quit this evil place without being discovered.  Tomorrow is the third day of our journey through Moria – we should find the East Doors before sunset of the fourth day.  Outside, there is snow to melt and streams run fast from the accumulated snowfall above.  It will be very hard on all of us if we do not find water before then.”

Sam had been struggling along directly behind them.  “What about findin’ a public well?”

Aragorn stopped in mid-step and stared at the hobbit.  Then he turned and hissed, “Gimli!”

The Dwarf, walking alongside Gandalf, stopped and turned back to them.  Gandalf, too, stopped, and light bloomed around them as the two walked back.  Aragorn settled Frodo gently on a piece of tumbled masonry and placed his hands on his hips, arching his back with a groan.  Without needing to be called, the other members of the Company gathered close.

“Gimli, Sam has had an excellent idea.  Did we leave these concourses and move to the residential areas, could we find a public well?”

The Dwarf stroked his beard.  “A public well…  Not around here, certainly.  We would have to make quite a detour.  The residential wells would be placed in courtyards between the housing blocks.  Hummm…”  Gimli stared off into the darkness.  “See that great entryway far off to our right?  Behind the last row of colonnades?   That would be one of the entrances and exits to the concourses.”

“But Pippin is waiting for us at the junction,” Merry objected.  “We need to meet him as soon as we can.”

“The need for water is the more urgent need, Merry,” replied the wizard.  “Pippin can sit and wait for us a little longer.  He is in no danger as long as he is quiet and still.”

“Do you see Pip sitting quiet and still for very long?” returned Merry a little stridently.  “We have to -"

“Peace, Meriadoc.”  The wizard’s eyes held warning.  “A public well is our best chance for water.  The storage cisterns are only a hope, and a small one.  It is more likely that any water that chanced to be in them would have evaporated by now, with no one left to tend the seals and the covers.”

“Then let us split the Company,” Frodo suggested from his seat on the dusty stone. “The swifter folk can take the water skins and go, and we others -"

“No!” Aragorn and Boromir spoke at the same moment.  The two warriors looked at each other then Aragorn continued, “We doubled our chance of discovery when Pippin was separated from us.  If we divide the Company again, we triple it.  That is too much risk to take.”

“I will take the water skins,” offered Legolas.  “I can go and return the swiftest and most silent.”

“You would not know how to find the wells,” said the Dwarf.  “And two would fill the skins more quickly.  I would welcome the opportunity to show you the City’s housing.  I have heard that the luminescent lichen – Pippin’s 'moss-stars' – were cultivated in the living areas, solely for their beauty.  It would lift my heart to see if they still survive among all this ruin.”

“Aragorn and Boromir are right,” said Gandalf.  “There must be no further separations.  We will all go and see if we can find water.  Then we will all go and join up with Pippin.  We must march through our evening rest to make up the time lost.  Every hour we stay in Moria, our risk of discovery increases.”

* * * * *

After the company had departed, united if not unanimous, the quiet figure that had trailed them emerged from its hiding place under a sculpture that had fallen against the wall.  Luminous eyes followed the retreating light of the wizard’s staff and the torches.  Even its night-sighted eyes, tuned to the dark through generations bred and raised without light, could see little so it lowered itself to its hands and knees, cautious of the creaking of the leather clothes it wore, and snuffed over where the company had stood for their discussion.

Strong clawed hands raked over the dust.  When it came to where the Ringbearer had sat on the stone, the figure pressed its snout to the rock and sniffed deeply.   A long, snake-like tongue darted from its mouth, and it licked where the small hurt one had been.  Moving down along the stone, it caught the faint fragrance of the athelas bandages and wrinkled its fanged mouth in disgust.  The creature raised its scaled head and debated its chances of catching the small one alone.  Then it turned and disappeared into one of the side passages that lined the vast, cold cavern.

 * * * * *  

Pippin didn’t know how long he had slept, and that frightened him.  The fire did not look much burned down, but the torches were treated with some substance to make them consume the wood slowly.  Surely they would have come by now.  Gimli had said it was only a few minutes’ walk.  Had they called to him and he didn’t hear?  Had they gone on when there was no response?

Cursing his innocent nap, the youngster leaped to his feet and scurried to the closed door.  After a few tugs, it swung open with no more than a faint creak.  Pippin gave no thought to the wonders of dwarven construction as dust dropped into his face.  He listened for a moment, wiping his eyes.  Nothing.  Screwing up his courage, Pippin called out softly into the darkness, “Hullo, anyone out there?”  Still no reply, but the young hobbit heard a faint scrambling sound.  “Merry?”

A huge rat, its body fully the length of the young hobbit’s arm, emerged from the shadows and glared at him.  Its tiny bulbous eyes reflected the small fire behind him, glinting red.  Entirely without fear, it sat up on its haunches and curled its thick, naked tail around itself.  Then it dropped to all fours and leaped towards him.

Pippin yelped and jumped back into the room, slamming the door after him.  Trembling, he leaned against the door as small scratching sounds came from around the bottom of the door.  Shaking in revulsion, he stayed still until the sounds went away.  He waited what seemed a long time, then thrust one of his spare torches into the fire and slowly edged the door open again, angling the torch down about his knees.  Nothing…

He edged a little farther into the main cavern, careful not to let the door swing shut behind him.  Turning, he caught up one of the many broken pieces of stone that littered the floor and pounded it under the door, ensuring that he would not be trapped outside.  He gave the doorstop a good kick to make certain the stone would not slide, and had to bite his tongue against the sudden, pained exclamation that sprang to his lips.  Awarding the stop a furious glare, Pippin took a few steps out onto the main level.

Another battle had taken place out here.  The skeleton of a dwarf lay just before the door, one arm still reaching for shelter.  A rotting spear transfixed the ribs, and looking down, the hobbit could see that it had been thrown with such force that it had driven partially into the floor.  Or had it been driven in after the dwarf was down?  Gulping suddenly, Pippin didn’t want to look any closer.

More bodies lay beyond.   All of them were twisted in the agonies of death, that one factor unifying dwarf, goblin and orc.  Many of the moldering bones showed gnaw-marks, and Pippin understood why the rat had been here.  One of the decaying figures did not wear armor and clutched no weapon.  Pippin moved over to it and stared down at the body of a young female dwarf.  The corpse of a small child clung to the bones of her hand.

Pippin felt his inadequate meal rise in his throat.  He didn’t want to explore any more.  Pippin returned to the door and removed the doorstop.  Then he sat down inside the door and leaned against it, and wept for the people of Moria.

* TBC *