The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm
In silence, they stood by Balin’s tomb. “They are coming,” the book whispered. The stones beneath them suddenly thrummed like the skin of a great drum. Doom, doom.
The clatter of many feet running. Orcs. With a sibilant, ringing caress, the Company drew their swords. Desperate howls of defeated enemies.
Doom, doom grew louder. Shadow and flame grew in Gandalf’s mind. On the bridge, it came, a creature of the depths and of nightmare. Thunder as the bridge broke asunder. Falling, the whip cracked and coiled, pulling the wizard into the abyss.
Tears fell on the stones, outside Gandalf’s tomb, in silence.