Chapter 21 - Fear

The room shook with dread and anticipation. Booted feet thundered through the great hall towards the chamber of Marbarzul, yet Aragorn still could not focus his thoughts. He held Anduril before him in readiness, with Faramir upon his left and Legolas upon his right.

It was going to have to be close combat. A dark atmosphere had filled the room ever since he had read aloud the demise of Balin's folk. The frightened Hobbits were not the only ones who had felt the change, all of the fellowship seemed to have become different.

Gimli was red with rage and bursting to avenge the deaths of his people. Aragorn was worried he would act rashly, but they could not afford any recklessness now. Their main objective had to be to escape the mines, even if that meant turning their backs upon their foes.

Legolas was still relying on his bow despite the close quarters. It had been his friend's decision to follow the fellowship into the mines, but it was for Legolas that Aragorn felt the most guilt if they died here away from all that the Elf loved.

Faramir had paled considerably, and seemed to be concerned over something he should, or should not have done. As far as Aragorn could see, the man had done nothing but save them from a grave blunder he himself would have caused if they had shut themselves in.

The Hobbits stood well back, Gimli standing protectively before them. Sam's brown eyes were burning with a fire that spoke of determination. They were all ready to do their parts, to give their lives for the quest.

But Aragorn was not willing to let them. He felt his responsibility for their safety keenly. But coupled with it was his duty to the ring-bearer, and worst of all, his own destiny. He had a dread feeling that he was going to have to make a choice, a choice between his friends and his duty. But he would make the choice with a clear head, for the battle was coming to him, and they would fight it together.

Doom, Doom... The drums became louder and louder. Hundreds of feet thundered down the corridor towards their chamber. There were cries and shrieks from the passage way, and the drums seemed now to be just outside the door. It juddered on its hinges as the first axe struck. Then the drumming halted abruptly, the wood splintered and cracked, and a great green hand slammed through the door, reaching out for the broken swords with which Gimli had wedged it shut.

With a cry Gimli rushed forwards, his axe raised above his head, determined that that first enemy to fall would be killed by the hand of a Dwarf.

"No, Gimli!" Aragorn shouted, but it was too late. The axe swept down towards the thick skin of the gigantic Troll's arm, and as it struck it shattered, sending shards of sharp metal flying. Gimli was thrown off balance, and he fell forwards. The giant arm plunged downwards through the door, catching Gimli by the throat and forcing the Dwarf to his knees.

Legolas let loose an arrow, but the wooden shaft fell back as it struck the greenish skin, doing little or no damage. Aragorn rushed to the Dwarf's side, but Frodo had beaten him to it. Sting flashed down in a fury of blue and silver. Gimli fell to the ground as the Troll shrieked in agony, almost wrenching Frodo off his feet as the sword came free.

Faramir and Legolas dragged the Dwarf away from the door as Frodo and Aragorn fled the volley of arrows that were fired through the hole made by the Troll's arm. Immediately, hammers and axes were brought down upon the door, hacking out great chunks of wood. Gimli staggered to his feet, clutching his bruised throat. He gave Frodo a pat on the head, saying nothing, but expressing his gratitude.

"We will go through the eastern door, "Aragorn said, "but we cannot run blindly with the Orcs in pursuit behind us! We must do something to delay them first." He swept his gaze over the Fellowship, making a swift decision. "Legolas, take the Hobbits. Wait for us at the bottom of the stairs. If we do not come, you must go on."

"Aragorn, we cannot leave you to fight the Orcs alone!" The Elf's eyes expressed a desperation that seemed to pass just between the two of them.

"I will not be alone," Aragorn assured with a quick glance at Faramir and the injured Dwarf.

"We can stay, Strider. We can fight!" Sam spoke for them all, but Aragorn was still reluctant to risk losing them or placing the ring in unnecessary danger. Whatever happened, Frodo had to leave the mines alive. That was his pledge, and it eased his mind to give the Elf some hope of seeing the stars once more.

"Go!" he shouted as another rain of arrows sprang from the door. They did not hesitate a second time. He was their leader, and he was relieved to see them leave before the full assault of the Orcs fell upon them.

Aragorn wiped his brow with a dirty hand, and readied his grasp on his sword. There was the thwack of a bow string, and Aragorn looked around to see that Faramir was firing through the newly-made holes in the door. The Orcs closest to the door screeched as they fell, but more Orcs just filled their places.

"The more we kill before they can enter, the less we will need to destroy later," Faramir explained, with a meaningful glance at Gimli. The Dwarf seemed indeed to be in a sorry condition, and Aragorn almost regretted not sending Gimli with the Hobbits. Dark bruises had already formed on the Dwarf's neck and he seemed to be swaying slightly on his feet.

Aragorn had no time to ponder further for at that moment, with a great groaning and splitting roar, the door crashed inwards. The first Orcs fell to Faramir's arrows, but then the battle was upon them, and there was no more time for archery. Aragorn shielded Faramir while the man changed weapons, but then they were swept apart by the fighting.

Aragorn found himself trapped up against the wall, hemmed in on all sides by the vicious, snarling creatures. Some of them were black Uruks of Mordor, far more dangerous than the regular cave-dwelling goblins.

He could hear Gimli's shouts from somewhere around the middle of the chamber. He cursed himself for not staying closer to Dwarf to make sure he was not still suffering from the effects of his brush with the cave Troll. Hopefully Faramir had been more successful than he.

Aragorn ducked as a broad sword slammed into the wall where his head had been a second before. He lunged forwards, driving his own sword into the creature's chest. But before he could pull it out, several other Orcs fell upon him, pushing him back against the wall with their twisted blades. Ramming his knee into the chest the first, he spun to the side, wrenching Anduril from the Orc's body, and barely avoided another blow to his chest.

A fist glanced off the side of his head, knocking him to the ground with vision that spun and blurred. He raised his arm to block the blows that rained down upon him, barely keeping a grip on the hilt of his sword. There was a mighty roar from somewhere above and then the Orcs around him seemed to fall away. Blood splashed onto his face and then Gimli was there, pulling him to his feet and patting him on the back.

Most of the Orcs had either been killed, or fled to gather reinforcements. Aragorn wiped his eyes and gazed around the bloody chamber, looking to the far wall where Faramir was battling the remaining Orcs. They had him up against the wall, as Aragorn had been a moment before. With another shout, Gimli sprang to the man's aid, slashing into the backs of the Goblins with an axe he had borrowed from his long dead cousins.

Faramir, now free from his attackers, moved up to Aragorn breathing hard. The man had a nasty gash on his forehead, but otherwise seemed to be unharmed.

"We must leave before the Troll returns," Aragorn said. "We will rejoin the others."

Gimli laid his broken axe hilt upon Balin's tombstone, "I can let my axe lie here without shame, for it was broken defending the Lord of Moria and will stay ever by his side."

Together the Dwarf and the two men stumbled down the steep flight of stairs that wound ever downwards towards the eastern gate. They were plunging straight into darkness. They did not dare rely on Glamdring's light for it would draw enemies to them. Blasts of hot air seemed to rise up to meet them as they descended, and from below the sounds of Orcs grew gradually louder.

It was some time before they had reached the base of the first stair, and to their joy they found the others waiting for them. The Hobbits were crouched against a low wall, and soon it was clear why, for arrows immediately came flying out of the darkness towards them. Faramir pulled Aragorn back against the wall, barely avoiding the volley of missiles.

Legolas was crouched to the left of the path, his bow aimed into the darkness ahead. Aragorn tried to spot their enemies but found his comparatively weak eyesight could not penetrate the darkness. The Elf let an arrow loose, and from somewhere ahead a goblin screeched and fell. Aragorn breathed his relief at his friend's remarkable accuracy, knowing he had sent the correct companion with the Hobbits.

"I believe that was the last of them." Legolas looked up at Aragorn. "We should go on before they gather reinforcements." 

Aragorn nodded, swallowing his feeling of unease. He led the way, the Hobbits close behind him. Horrible shouts echoed from the pit below them. Their present danger would be nothing compared to the crossing of the bridge of Kazad-dum.

---

Merry held his breath as they neared the bottom of the seventh flight of stairs. At first he and Pippin had tried to count as they descended, but hundreds had turned into thousands and they both had lost count long before they reached the last stair.

The air was filled with foul fumes and a hot gas that suffocated and choked. It was nearly an hour since Legolas had led them from the tomb of the Dwarf lord, and his overwhelming relief at seeing Aragorn, Faramir and Gimli alive had kept him moving for some time. But all the Fellowship were weary, Pippin and Frodo especially, and even Aragorn seemed more drawn that the Hobbit had ever seen him.

"We must be nearing the level of the gate," Aragorn told them, drawing the back of his hand across his forehead. "This heat is unnatural - there is something evil afoot at the bridge, I am sure of it."

Merry could feel it too - a heat that made the Hobbit's clothes cling uncomfortably to his hot body. Legolas seemed to be the only one unaffected by the heat, and again Merry marveled at the superiority of Elves.

"Gimli will lead the way to the gate," Aragorn said, looking around intently at the faces of the fellowship. "Frodo, Sam, you follow next with Legolas, then Merry and Pippin with Faramir. Do you all understand?"

Everyone nodded, and Merry felt almost afraid of the intensity with which the Ranger spoke. Aragorn was worried about them all, it was clear, and knew he could not be everywhere at once.

"Whatever happens, cross the bridge and leave the mines on the other side." Aragorn addressed them all, but Merry knew the words were meant for Frodo.

With pale but determined faces, the Fellowship left the safety of the shadows and crossed into what Aragorn had suspected to be the Second Hall. The hall was far larger than the one they had been in before. It stretched westward into darkness, and its length could only be marked by the flickering red light that played upon the shiny black pillars that ran along its centre. To their right a fissure of fire had opened, spanning the whole width of the hall.

"It is well for us the Orcs attacked when they did!" Gimli exclaimed. "If we had come by the main road we would have been trapped behind the fire."

"As our enemies have just discovered," Faramir said, his eyes fixed to the flickering flames that licked the base of the pillars.

Merry saw he was right, the enemy thundered towards them through the hall, only to come up against the fiery trap that lay in their path. The drums grew louder and the shrieks and cries of anger by the Orcs did not cease. Arrows and spears were launched at the fellowship and they turned east once more and fled for the bridge.

Merry's heart pounded as he ran - he had never moved so fast in all his life! It was then he saw the bridge. Horror at the thought of crossing it flooded through him, but all his self doubt was washed away in another moment as all the Orcs behind them grew suddenly silent.

The fellowship turned back to see what had become of their enemies. The Orcs had parted rank, and two great Trolls, such as the ones Bilbo used to tell tales of, stepped forward and threw stone slabs down to bridge the chasm of fire. The Orcs still remained eerily stationary.

Suddenly Legolas cried out, his Elven eyes piercing the darkness where Hobbit eyes could not. "Ai! A Balrog! A Balrog is coming!" To Merry's horror the Elf's bow slipped from his fingers.

Behind him he heard the Dwarf's axe do the same, "A balrog! The scourge of our people! Durin's bane!" The Dwarf's shout cast fear into the very depth of Merry's heart, and though he knew not what approached, he felt himself trembling.

From the centre of the Orc ranks a darkness touched with fire came forth. Merry's breath caught in his throat as the Balrog rose blazing to its full height.

The creature of fire saw its foes about to escape across the bridge and thundered towards them, its deep growl drowning out the sound of the drums.

"Go!" Aragorn shouted, shaking them from their stupor. "Go!" He pushed Gimli towards the bridge. The Dwarf scooped up his axe and bent low as he raced across the stone arch. There were no hand rails and no supports of any kind, and Merry dreaded his turn to cross.

Frodo and Sam went next, followed by Legolas. Merry began to feel the heat on the back of his neck as the Balrog approached. The beast seemed to be made entirely of fire and ash, even its eyes were like red hot coals, glowing in the dark.

Then he was running, tears of fear blurring his vision as the solid ground disappeared into darkness and their feet pounded over the narrow stone. Pippin was close behind him, and above the roar of the Balrog he could hear his cousin breathing his uneven gasps.

Aragron and Faramir were somewhere behind, though he could not hear anything more over the cracking flames. The end of the bridge was near. Closer, closer!

Merry stumbled onto the slope at the other side of the bridge, forcing his legs to pound up the steep incline to the base of the stairs. They were safe!

Suddenly there was a cry from behind him, and he turned his head to see Pippin slip and fall, tumbling backwards past a startled Aragorn and Faramir.

He was falling back towards the bridge, towards the pit, towards the Balrog!