Chapter 5 

When the dust and snow settled, the Fellowship found that they were divided by a wall of stone that extended completely across the cavern’s entrance.  Gandalf, Gimli and the hobbits were trapped inside, and Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir on the outside.  The stone did not extend completely up to the remaining rock overhang; they could communicate easily.  But the wall was too unstable to climb, and they certainly could not get the pony over it.

As Aragorn’s soft voice described the demise of the creature, Frodo and Merry assisted the wizard in examining the dwarf’s injuries.  Pippin was set to building up the fire and melting some of the snow they had brought in earlier.  Sam was calming the still-frightened Bill, murmuring reassurances to him softly and rubbing the pony’s forelock.  He didn’t remove the blindfold until Bill relaxed and his furry ears twitched upright again.

Gimli groaned when Gandalf ran his hands over his thick chest.  Frodo tucked a blanket around his legs, and Merry held the wizard’s staff  as the crystal imbedded in its tip brightened and emitted a steady glow.  Angling the staff down, they could see that the dwarf’s fabric and leather tunic had been rent from Gimli’s left shoulder to his right hip.  Metal gleamed among the shredded fabric.  Had the dwarf not been wearing his heavy chain mail coat, he would have been eviscerated.  Gandalf and Merry drew the dented mail coat over his head, ignoring the dwarf’s half-aware protests.  Under it, the great chest had been pierced by many of the broken links, droplets of blood glistening among the thick hair like red flowers growing in a bed of moss.  Bruises were blossoming on the pale skin, the worst high on his thickly-muscled shoulder.  Though there were no broken ribs, it would be many days before the dwarf would swing his axe without pain.

Pippin struggled over with a kettle of heated water, and Gandalf washed the dwarf’s chest and wrapped it, laying a number of the sweet-smelling athelas leaves against his skin and among the linens.  As Gandalf pulled the last bandage tight, Gimli gasped in spite of himself.  “This is unnecessary, Gandalf,” the dwarf rumbled.  “These little punctures are less than insect bites.  I am not hurt.”

“You are more hurt than you realize, Master Gimli.  In a few hours, you will be so stiff you cannot move.  Accept the bandages and the athelas, and spare us your dwarfish stoicism.”  When Gimli would have argued further, Gandalf poked him squarely in the center of the largest bruise.  The dwarf grunted and glared at him from beneath deep, bushy brows.  Merry, standing above them with the glowing staff, stared straight ahead to avoid betraying his amusement.

The other hobbits had been conversing with the three trapped outside, reporting on Gimli’s condition and trying to work out a way to reunite the Fellowship.  Pippin, being the lightest, had climbed as far up the tumbled stones as he could, and now was balancing precariously before the opening, digging his furry toes and fingers into whatever crevices he could find.  Frodo was below him, and Sam on the stony floor.  The hobbits had formed a chain and were passing up first a lit torch, then blankets and mugs of hot tea those shivering outside.  Boromir scrapped together as much wood as he could quickly find and used to torch to kindle a fire.  The smoke from their small fire was being pulled out through the hole that Pippin was passing the supplies though, and the poor hobbit was coughing as his eyes teared.  Legolas, receiving the blankets and tea from the far side, suffered similarly.

Finishing with Gimli, and after giving him firm instructions to not move until permitted to, the wizard joined the hobbits.  Tentative pushing from both sides of the barrier had resulted in torn hands and more tumbled stones, but little success.  Pippin had had to jump down into Sam’s waiting arms when his unsteady perch gave under Aragorn and Boromir’s combined push.  Their effort enlarged the clear area through which Pippin had been passing the supplies, and climbing back up, Pippin and Frodo could see out.  Squirming, with Frodo pushing from behind, Pippin could just force himself through to the elf’s waiting arms.  But there was no way the larger hobbits and the Big Folk could fit through the small opening.  Sighing, Pippin pushed himself back to the relative shelter of the cavern, leaving a fair amount of skin behind in the process.

Gimli watched their efforts, growling under his breath and rubbing his bruises.  Eyeing the tumbled rock, the dwarf leaned forward.  “Gandalf,” he called, “If you use a lever at the rock pile’s weakest point, you might be able to pry an opening.  Try where the beast entered; the wall is most damaged there.  I suggest inserting piece of firewood there, above that squarish rock, between it and the one to the left of it.  Apply steady pressure to the right, and it should give.”

The hobbits were now set to choosing the stoutest piece of wood and after some discussion, agreed on a slightly warped section of root nearly a meter long.  This was borne to the wizard, who also examined it and pronounced it acceptable.  Refusing Gimli’s offers of assistance, Gandalf grasped the root in both hands and drove it into the indicated place.  With the hobbits helping as best they could, Gandalf carefully exerted upward pressure on the unstable mass.  A few of the smaller stones broke free and rolled about their feet.  The rock pile shifted slightly.

Panting, Gandalf left the root lodged in the rocks and stepped back for a rest.  All having caught their breath, they resumed their work.  Without warning, there was a loud crack, and the root shattered.  Sam groaned.  The stocky hobbit groaned again when no other suitable pieces of firewood could be found.

“What do we do now?” asked Merry, sucking on a splinter.  Gandalf was glaring at the useless lever as if it had deliberately chosen to thwart him, his great bushy brows drawn down in disgust. 

“Could we use your staff?” suggested Pippin.  He quietly sidled behind Merry when the wizard transferred that glowering gaze to him.  Frodo rolled his eyes and sighed.  “I was just trying to help…” drifted Pippin’s voice from behind his cousin.

“Couldn’t they pry it from the other side?”  Abandoning Pippin, Merry was down on his hands and knees, tugging at the weakened area of the wall, where the creature had entered.  Nothing.  Sighing, Merry stood up and wiped his hands on his bright yellow waistcoat.

“I thought it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion…”

“Won’t work.  Boromir and I drove support-stones against the bottom tier of rocks.”  Despite Gandalf’s admonitions, the dwarf rose and moved stiffly over to them.  His arms were wrapped tightly against his chest as he began to feel the soreness of his injuries.  “They will hold against pressure exerted against them from the outside.”

“Sometimes dwarves build too well,” muttered the wizard, drawing a grunt of laughter from Gimli.

 “And you never know, it might work…”

 “That’s enough, Pippin.”   Gandalf turned his head as a soft laugh came from the small opening. 

“Any progress?”  Legolas’ head had appeared unheeded at the opening.  The Elf slitted his eyes, trying to discern their forms in the flickering shadows of the fire.  “The wind is rising and it is becoming very cold out here.  Gandalf, we must seek shelter.  There is none within an easy walk, but we are beginning to freeze.”

Gandalf strode to the foot of the wall.  “I do not want us to be separated!  The creature is dead but there may be more out there, of other sorts, or fell beasts.  We cannot afford to spilt our Fellowship.”

Aragorn struggled up besides the Elf, steadied by Boromir beneath him.  A rock dislodged under his boot and struck Boromir on the knee, eliciting a muffled curse from the Man.  “We may not have a choice.  We will die out here.  Gandalf, is there nothing that you can do?”

The wizard leaned against his staff and gazed up at the Ranger, considering.  “Fire will not avail us.  I can summon the forces of wind, but that pressure would catch up these stones and dash them about this little cave like a child’s marbles in a cup…”  The wizard paused and all on both sides of the barrier pictured the results of that.

 “Eewwww,” said Pippin. 

In the silence that followed, Gimli’s bass rumbled about the enclosed space like an echo of the living earth.  “If we cannot bring down the barricade by prying an opening, perhaps we can identify the pivot-stone.”  The wizard and the hobbits looked at him blankly, and Gimli could see the confusion in Aragorn’s eyes as he stared down at them over the stones.  Sweat had frozen in his hair, forming long strands of dark icicles.  “A pivot-stone,” the dwarf elaborated, “is one on which all others rest.  It bears the force exerted by all the others in the wall.  Remove that stone, and we remove the prop and support of the entire structure.  Remove that stone, and the wall falls.”

Gandalf regarded him intently.  “How do we do this?”

“Find where the weight of the wall rests.  The other stones will lean towards it.  It will not budge if you push it – instead, a single great blow is needed to loosen it.”  Gimli hesitated, then added regretfully, “I see no way of generating the force necessary to strike the pivot-stone.  We have nothing to fling against it.  Our own strength will not be enough.”

While he had been speaking, the dwarf had leaned over and caught up the splintered lever, held it into the fire to ignite it.  Half-crouching against the pain of his injured chest, he moved along the wall, waving the improvised torch before him.  While the others waited, he growled and rumbled to himself, sliding his free hand along the stones.  Finally, the gnarled hand came to rest on a single stone, one but two courses above from the squarish stone Gandalf had tried to part from its neighbor.  “For what good it is,” Gimli said, “this is the pivot-stone.”

Gandalf and the hobbits gathered around him to look at the innocent-appearing rock.  Merry and Pippin tried their strength against it but as Gimli had warned, their efforts had no effect.  As Pippin leaned against it, gasping, Merry turned around and put his back to the stone, pushing with all that was in him.  Then, exhaling loudly, he slid down to the cold stone floor and curled his arms around his knees.

* TBC *