Chapter 16 - Patience

"I think it is alright." The small hand reached for the chain around the other's neck. "Thank the stars he still has it."

---

As if he were still in a dream, Frodo felt himself jerk upright, "Keep back! Get away! It's mine!" The voice was his own, but this surprised him for he had never heard himself speak so harshly and with so much anger. His fingers closed around the cool metal, the ring... the ring...

A wave of cold swept over him and he suddenly felt freezing and alone in the blinding darkness. As he began to remember where he was, he became painfully aware of the silence around him as whoever had tried to touch the ring had drawn back in shock at his reaction.

Frodo shivered and wished someone would take away the terrible darkness. "I'm . . sorry . . . so sorry . . . I don't understand . . "

"It's alright, Mr Frodo. It's just me," Sam's comforting voice and his warm hand holding his in the dark was almost too good to be true. "You kept it safe, and you're safe now too."

"But . . . what was that thing, or were there many of them? And where is everyone?"

"We are all here, Frodo." Strider's strong voice was a great comfort to Frodo who had truly believed none but Sam and himself had made it. "But I do not know what the creature may be. Doubtless it was the cause of the damming of the river. It was said that beneath Moria, a terror dwelt and now someone or something has woken it, perhaps we will find more trouble ahead than we guessed."

There was a harsh whisper that Frodo suspected to be Sam telling Aragorn not to be so disheartening when he was only just recovering.

"Poor Mr Frodo," Sam said. "Your legs must be sorely bruised after that horrid creature got a hold of you. I did my best, sir, but poor old Bill, I had to choose, Mr Frodo, I had to come with you. And all the wolves and the snakes. Really Strider, I don't know why he couldn't have come along with us. After all he'd been through."

"I don't think Bill would have followed you, Sam, even if you had dragged him." Aragorn's voice seemed strange to Frodo, it was a mixture of regret and sadness.

"Bill would have followed me into a dragon's den if I led him. But there I go again, Bill is gone and there's nothing that can be done about it now. I just hope he doesn't end up in a wolf's belly!"

"I am truly sorry Sam," from Aragorn's voice Frodo could tell he meant it. "But we must look to the present. Is anyone hurt?"

There were some grumbles that Frodo suspected came from Gimli, and a shuffle of feet. Frodo realised he was lying on a broad, shallow step and the others were gathered around him.

"Pippin? Merry? Are you both well?" Aragorn had fought alongside them but with the violence of the wolves' attack, he had not seen whether either had been injured.

Frodo held his breath for a moment, hoping neither of his young cousins had been hurt.

"Pippin got a bad cut on his leg and we're both covered in wolf blood but we will live." Frodo heard Aragorn's quiet sigh, the Ranger would never forgive himself if the two Hobbits had been badly hurt. Frodo was the same, for he had dragged them along on this quest.

"Gimli?"

"Like the Hobbits, I will live," the Dwarf assured him, "I am soaked to the bone and if ever I come across that creature again I will see that he pays for the damage he did to my leg!" Frodo realised he too was wet through. The creature's attack had been so violent that the water had erupted around him. He pulled the blanket that was wrapped around him tighter.

"I believe it will think again before attacking a Hobbit now it has had a taste of Faramir and Legolas' arrows," Aragorn smiled. "But can you walk, Gimli?"

"Gimli, son of Gloin, miss the opportunity to explore the halls of Durin because he got hit in the leg?" the Dwarf roared incredulously, "I think the wolves must have jolted your brain, Aragorn, for you to even ask such a question!"

"Alright, Alright," Aragorn laughed, "there is no need for that. I would still like a look at your leg, Gimli, son of Gloin, if you aren't too high and mighty to let a friend offer his help."

"How you are going to 'take a look' at anything in this darkness is a mystery to me but I will relent, if you can find a light."

"I can see a light," Pippin put in, his voice smaller than usual, "over by the door. It keeps moving and flashing."

"Of course!" Aragorn sounded excited although the others had no idea what he had discovered. "Faramir?"

The strange light began to move and as Faramir answered him from what seemed like a long way back, the light disappeared, "What is it Aragorn?"

"Gandalf's sword, Glamdring."

There was a shuffling sound and a collective gasp as Faramir took the sword from his back where he had carried it and unsheathed it. A pale glow radiated from the blade and Faramir's face was illuminated in the strange light.

"And we have light!" Merry said.

"But at what price?" Aragorn said grimly and they all turned to look at him. "Frodo," Aragorn said by a means of explanation and after a second the Hobbit understood. His heart, joyful at the discovery of light, fell dramatically as he drew Sting from its sheath.

Bright was its blade, though not as bright as Glamdring's. "Orcs," he said, "they are near."

There were a few muted cries of dismay from the Hobbits and a low curse from Gimli. Aragron, whose face could now be seen in the dim light, looked around him. "We must move from this place soon. If the Orcs are close we can perhaps find a place off the path to hide a while. We have a little time for I have seen Glandring glow brighter still. Faramir, I can see you are well, but tell me, how did you manage to open the doors?"

"It was not all my doing. Gimli and Legolas were the true finders of the answer. They just didn't see it."

"I found it hard to concentrate on riddles as I was trying to do battle with the wolves and the snakes, unlike some people." Gimli's words were scornful but they held no real malice. They all knew that if Faramir hadn't figured out the password things would have gone worse for them at the door.

"I deemed it wiser to find the answer before all else lest we be overwhelmed by the enemy. Gimli, however, seemed to have the battle well under control." Frodo had seen Gimli's fall and knew exactly why the Dwarf's face flushed red at Faramir's words.

"But in the end it was Gimli who really saved the day," Faramir said, not wishing to be on the wrong side of an angry Dwarf for more than a moment. "For if he had not saved Legolas from the creature, I would have never known the Elvish for friend." Frodo followed Faramir's eyes as he searched for Legolas to give him recognition.

Frodo hadn't even noticed the Elf's silence. In fact he now realised Legolas had been rather quiet all through that night. He was so used to Gimli's argument's with the Elf that when Gimli took up arguing with Faramir and Aragorn, nothing seemed amiss. Now his eyes travelled to where the Elf sat, slightly away from the rest, leaning against the wall.

"Legolas, forgive me, I quite forgot you were injured. How fare you?" Aragorn's tone was regretful and the now obvious silence of the Elf must have disturbing him as much as it did Frodo. Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn's, and to Frodo they seemed black and dim. His pale face resumed its blank exterior as everyone looked at him.

"Thanks to Master Gimli I am quite alright." Frodo was surprised at the blankness in the usually musical voice and the abruptness of his words, but although everyone waited for Legolas to continue, the Elf obviously had no intention of doing so.

"But . . ." Gimli began, also ashamed he had not asked about the Elf. "Surely, your shoulder, and your back . . . You may be an Elf but not even you can walk away from an attack like that without a scar."

"My chest is bruised and the wound on my shoulder has reopened but other that that, I am quite intact." From his tone, that was the end of the discussion, but Frodo was still concerned.

Faramir helped Gimli bandage his leg amid the Dwarf's continuous spiel of threats to the creature that had shut the doors on them. While Aragorn insisted on looking at the Elf's shoulder, Frodo looked on inconspicuously as the man peeled away the bloody sleeve. It was not a pleasant sight.

Frodo knew well what it was like to have an injury on the shoulder where every movement becomes restricted and every action made more difficult. He felt again the burning pain as the Black Rider's knife cut into his own shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut at the recollection.

"And just as it was beginning to heal, too," Aragorn was saying grimly as he used a little of their precious water to clean the wound. "It is a great blow to all of us, without your bow we will . . "

"I am perfectly capable of using my bow," Legolas interrupted, more sharply than usual.

Frodo thought he probably should not be listening but he remained where he was, fear and guilt eating slowly away at him. He almost wished he had gone alone, then everyone would not be in peril as they were now. But on the another hand, his relief at having so many true companions could not be expressed through words. He could not have wished for kinder or braver companions, friends, to help him on the most dangerous task that he had ever imagined.

Aragorn's eyes were fixed on the Elf in a look of concerned frustration, "Think of how much worse you could make the injury if you aggravate it. Be wise, my friend, let it heal."

"If you think I would stand idly in battle, you are mistaken. While I can be of any use I will do anything I can to protect the company."

Aragorn sighed in frustration and turned back to the main group. Frodo quickly averted his gaze so neither of the two would know he had been listening.

"Frodo, if you are recovered we will move on. I'm sure we are all anxious to get the journey over as quickly as possible.

"How long will it take?" Merry asked, while tying a bandage around Pippin's leg.

"Four or five days at the least," Aragorn said, "but I have not walked this path for many years and I remember little. It may take longer for us to decide our course than walk it. But for now our way is clear, up the stairs and along the passage. I will go ahead with Glamdring to light our way."

Faramir passed Aragorn the mighty blade, happy to be relieved of its weight. He had carried it without use, strapped to his back, since their descent from Caradhras for he had his own lighter sword. Aragorn would have been hard-pressed to carry two such heavy weapons although he had offered to. Frodo got wearily to his feet and followed the others up the stairs and into the darkness of Moria.

---

The dark room was shrouded in anger and power. They had escaped his grasp again, and this fool before him was still resisting. He looked with disgust at the body on the ground and even felt a twinge of pity, pity that the Wizard could not see the foolishness of his stubborn refusals to tell him anything.

There had been one time Saruman thought he had won, just after the last words of defiance the old man had spoken almost two nights before. He had felt a change in the mental barrier that withheld the information he needed to become all powerful. He had even seen their faces in his mind. The faces of Gandalf's fellowship that he believed could win out against the darkness.

He had seen the undersized creatures Gandalf seemed to have so much faith in pass through the wizard's mind one by one, cheerful, curly haired beings, one of which defied him by carrying 'it'. Saruman would see the smiles wiped from their faces and laugh as Gandalf saw his beloved Halflings fall into darkness.

The Dwarf and the Elf passed by together, Saruman knew of the strange friendship between them through his previous observances of their journey. He smiled at the thought of them passing through Moria, he knew the Dwarf would relish the opportunity to see the halls of Durin but he was surprised Thranduil's son had agreed to even pass the doors. If he had the chance, Saruman would take pleasure in reminding the young Elf about his experiences as they passed through the dark. He must be far removed from the King of Mirkwood, who now seemed only to care of his wealth, and who would avoid the company of a Dwarf at all costs. Saruman was also amused that Gimli, the son of one of the Dwarves Thranduil had imprisoned, could even stand to be in presence of the young prince. Saruman had a plan for these two if ever he held them at Isengard. Through their cooperation, Saruman had a chance of gaining the alliance of the Mirkwood Elves and perhaps even the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. If they refused to oblige him in this he would use their friendship with eachother to destroy them.

The next face to pass was the shadow King of Gondor, the one upon which all Gandalf's hopes hung.

Saruman had seen something else in the man's face, although he tried hard not to believe he had seen it. He knew as he looked into those grey eyes that without a doubt this man had descended from the Kings of old. His mere presence at the head of an army would be enough to drive the hosts of Mordor back to their shadow. Power was what he saw and it made him angry. But Saruman knew his chance to prevent this Ranger's rise to power was now, now before he could claim his birthright. Now, while he was his most vulnerable.

When they are brought to me, Saruman thought, never doubting that he would see the fellowship brought before his throne in Isengard, I will make certain he will never become that which Gandalf has prophesised. Perhaps when he sees the lies the old man has fed him, he will join me, lead 'my' armies. And if not, Saruman smiled, I will give him to Sauron as a gift of my good will. Saruman laughed. The Dark Lord will never suspect my power grows ever mightier. Unlike he, I know that beneath Moria lies a treasure more valuable than all the mithril ever found.

What Saruman found disturbing was that while Gandalf's thoughts had flashed by, he had never seen the face of the Steward's son. It was strange that while the faces of Denethor and his elder son passed, as what he thought was an indication of what was to come, the vision went blank and Saruman was still yet to see young Faramir's face. Saruman's plans for the young man were similar ones he had for the Elf, though more important. If Saruman could get Denethor on his side through Faramir's allegiance and counsel to his father, he would gain control of Gondor. From what he had been told about Denethor's younger son, Faramir was wise and had a great knowledge of lore. Surely a man such as he would see the wisdom Saruman offered. Again and again Saruman had been surprised that others did not understand his intentions. With a ruler such as himself, Middle Earth would flourish and the rebels who bred discontent would be crushed. Who could ask for a greater accomplishment? But Gandalf had not understood him and if Faramir turned out to be as was he called by his father, 'a Wizard's pupil,' Saruman would use him instead as a hostage and hope, for his sake, that Denethor would be wise enough to agree to his demands.

Of late the fellowship had been careful, as if they knew someone was watching. They travelled at night when he could not watch and he had lost all sight them until he had heard they had passed through the gate of Durin.

Saruman worried that the ring, along with the company, might never escape the mines. The Orcs that dwelt in Moria were not under his control and would kill intruders without a thought. He suspected Sauron had sent many of his Uruk Hai into the mines, for what purpose, he knew not. The risk of losing the ring was great and Saruman was debating whether to send his own Orcs inside to make sure his ring was not lost. He knew also the chance that sending more intruders might create a war in the mines.

It was strange that Saruman's desire was to see the fellowship pass through the mines safely, but once they passed into the light again and came at last through the Golden Wood. Then he would act . . .