A distant light 12/?

[valandhir]

With many THANKS to the wonderful harrylee94 (http:// www.fanfiction. net/u/ 2916221/) for patient betaing, help and input on this chapter. You inspire me to write so much!

Chapter 10: A hunt in the dark

When the gates of Moria opened Boromir was not sure if he’d prefer the dark dank pool outside or the equally black gate into the mountain. He hardly heard Gimli speaking of the great kingdom of the dwarves, his eyes fixed on the blackness, trying to see anything except shadows and specks dancing in his vision. His foot caught hold of something hard and metallic, forcing him to look down. Bodies. There were bodies everywhere; rotting corpses, bones, full skeletons in plated armour strewn across the stairwell, each and every one of them smaller than a man.They were Dwarves, dead dwarves that had been massacred and left to rot in this accursed place. “This is no mine, it’s a tomb. We should never have come here.” 

A scream behind them made them turn around to see Frodo dragged off by a many armed creature from the lake. Neither Boromir nor Aragorn wasted any time, racing after Frodo, attacking its many arms. It roared hollowly, lashing out at them, the waters swirling as a dark mouth came up above the waterline, dirty teeth gnashing at the watcher's attackers. Boromir swung his sword at another arm as it erupted from the water, the creature trashing more wildly. He saw how Aragorn severed the arm that held Frodo. Boromir just had enough time move right and catch the falling Halfling. Behind them the creature became frenzied, rising from the water. An arrow of Legolas’ only pushed it back for a moment but it was all they needed to escape. They had to retreat into the open gate of the mine, the creature blocking off every other route, forcing them into the dark tunnels, its long arms pushed close the doors of Moria, rubble and stones crashing down. Darkness fell around them.

“We now have but once choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world. It is a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence may go unnoticed." Gandalf’s voice cut through darkness as he lit the crystal on top of his staff to allow for some vague light.

Four days. That was a new thought for Boromir. He had often heard of the huge mines of the dwarves and of their underground kingdoms, and Faramir had certainly tried to instill some learned knowledge into his older brother, yet hearing that it would take them four days to cross these halls certainly drove the message home. Squinting a bit as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he looked around. The traces of a dire fight were all over the stairwells. Neither side had claimed the bodies of their dead; they lay where they had fallen, their bodies a silent recording of events. Boromir could read much of that skirmish in what he could see in passing. Still he was relieved when they were past the stairs and there were no new bodies in the halls they walked into.

They walked for hours and hours, Gandalf spoke in whispers of the mines, of the mithril found here and of the wealth of Moria. Boromir hardly listened, his eyes taking in the huge halls and wide walkways they passed. What a huge city – what a realm, a kingdom hidden from the eyes of all of Middle-Earth. How many generations had labored, expanding these halls, creating marvels that were still visible even in under the grime of ruin and defeat? How had a nation so strong and proud to create such a kingdom fallen so far? Had their numbers waned until their strength ran out and the Orcs numbered beyond counting? Had their fate been much similar of Gondor’s? To wane and dwindle, stemming the tide of darkness until the last strength broke? Had they too been forgotten and alone in their moments of despair?

“We should rest here,” Gandalf had stopped walking in a dark chamber with an empty well. “we have been walking for more than a day.” The whole company huddled against the walls, trying to rest as best as they could in the perpetual darkness around them.

Boromir leaned against the broken wall, closing his eyes. Pippin would wake him once it was time he relieved him of watch duty. Sleep came sooner than he’d hoped, its thick tendrils wrapping themselves around him and pulling him deep into its dark depths.

For long ago when lanterns burned

Until this day our hearts have yearned.

The Orc tumbled down the chasm, though Boromir did not waste any second glance at him, racing to catch up with the troops at the main hall. White lamps lit the huge dome of the ceiling. Kili turned around to him, a wild fire shining in his dark eyes. “You were right, their leader had no plan.” He said. “take your troops and sweep the stairs of Anulbar, Dwalin has the other side. We’ve got them on the run.”

“At once,” Boromir turned to his men. “Nari, right flank, Calin point with me!” They were winning this battle here and now.

“Fool of a Took, throw yourself down the next time and spare us the trouble.” Gandalf’s voice ripped Boromir from his dream just in time to hear something crash in the dark and a deep dum dum dum ring out from somewhere deep below them. “What happened?” He asked.

“You were the only one to sleep through that,” Aragorn responded somewhat amused. “Pippin tossed a stone down the well and it has been heard.”

“Do we keep moving or do we risk staying?” Boromir was already struggling back to his feet and the Ranger reached for his shoulder. “No, none of the others are up to another march. Let’s share watch duty between us and give the others some hours of rest.”

“Alright, I’ll take first watch.” The Gondorian Captain volunteered at once. He knew Thorongil was just as tired as they all were. He saw the grateful nod and moved to sit by the entrance to the room. Alone, with the others going to sleep, he wondered at the dream he had had. It was the strangest thing ever to invade his sleep. What could it mean? Why had he been fighting here, with Kili and other dwarves to retake Moria? Or was it just that he imagined things, because of the sadness this place exuded? He could not tell.

*-*

Their journey continued for another two days, with long walks all day and, for Boromir, restless nights. During the last day he thought he heard noises behind them; soft feet swishing on stone floors, arrows hissing in the dark and a strange shadow moving in the darkness, unseen. Something was following them. The Gondorian was even more watchful than before now, but he still found himself still distracted by the vast dwarfen city they travelled. While the place was sad and dark he found it less depressing than he had expected. For the first time he truly understood what fascinated his brother so much with the lore of the Elder races.

“'I have no memory of this place,” Gandalf had stopped them at a crossroads. There were several doorways leading on, but their guide was clearly unsure where to go.

The fellowship had settled down for a welcome break after three days’ worth of marches. Boromir chose to sit on the ledge, to keep an eye on the dark chasm beside them. The hobbits whispered softly amongst themselves, speculating on Gandalf being lost. It was Frodo who spotted the soft swishing feet somewhere down below them this time. “It’s Gollum, he has been following us for three days.” Gandalf appeared unfazed by their nightly stalker.

A squeal ripped through the silence of the darkness below them. “Nasty dwarfses… nasty…”

Gandalf leaped to his feet, extending his staff across the ledge, the light falling down on the ledge below, illuminating two figures standing on the edge. Or rather, one dwarf holding a thin, mangled creature in a chokehold above the chasm. Boromir’s eyes widened as he recognized the familiar figure of Kili down there. 

“Let him go!” Gandalf’s voice was clear and commanding. “Let him go, Kili son of Dari.”

The dwarf obeyed the command, flinging the mangled creature as far from himself as he could. Gollum fled into the darkness cursing him at least a dozen times.

“Kili, will we always meet in the depths of the mountains?” Boromir did not even want to know why the wizard had ordered the creature to be spared. “Can you come up here?” The ledge was too steep to climb and they had not rope.

The dwarven warrior glanced up. “You are at Tharnul crossing, I will be with you swiftly.” He reached down to grab his pack and set off into the darkness.

True to his word he appeared again from the same way they had come not long after. He moved in the darkness with the familiar ease of someone who lived underground by nature. Only Boromir saw the glowing jewel that Kili quickly put into a pouch at his belt when he had reached them. “I should have reached you quicker, but that little maggot cost me time.” He stated.

“Why are you following us at all?” Aragorn asked, having risen to his feet too.

Kili bowed lightly. “Gurth gothrim Tel' Mithrim,” he spoke the phrase carefully, lacking the same musical sound that elves would have had.

It did not need more, Aragorn recognized the phrase. “You are the scout for the mountain passes?” he asked. “I should have guessed, it was the obvious choice.”

“I spend some time catching up to you, had I not met that slimy thing I would have reached you yesterday when you came through the third hall of Darugnar.” He looked at them one after them. “It was a dangerous choice to come here, Moria is steeped in shadow.”

“You know that no one was alive here?” Gimli asked shocked.

“Aye,” Kili inclined his head. “I am sorry, Gimli. I know your Uncle was amongst those who came here. Balin… he paid a terrible price for entering Moria.”

Gimli pushed past Legolas facing off Kili. “If you knew, if you were here that begs the question how you survived! How would you have survived what killed all the others by the gates? What did you do to save your own skin?”

Boromir grabbed the angry dwarf at the shoulder and pulled him back. “Stop it, Gimli. I won’t have you always claim the worst where it comes to Kili. There are many ways to know of a doom without having been touched by it.” He could feel the glances of all the others on him; he had just taken a side but in what conflict was not quite clear to him yet.

“I think Kili should answer the question,” Gandalf spoke gravelly. “for no one knew of what had befallen Moria.”

Aragorn shook his head. “Gandalf, I came across Dwalin son of Fundin no less than two years ago in Bree. There must have been others who returned from this place. Maybe they left before it was too late.”

“You did see the massacre at the gate, no one escaped.” Gimli growled. “And he… he should explain well how he would know.” There was suspicion in Gimli’s eyes when he looked at the slightly older dwarf.

Boromir exchanged a quick glance with Thorongil, who tried to calm down the son of Gloin. The ranger shrugged, a gesture implying that he did not understand the dwarven anger but also that answers may be better. The Gondorian turned back to Kili, who had stood unmoving. It was easy to read in his eyes pain and sadness, this place held no good memories for him. “Kili?” he asked softly. “No one here believes these accusations, yet answers could shed the doubts from minds.”

Dark eyes met Boromir’s gaze. “I understand, my friend. It is a long tale.” He put down the pack he was carrying, only keeping the dragonblade on his back.

The Gondorian Captain led Kili towards the broken stones in the middle of the crossing where he could sit. Boromir remained standing close behind.

The dark haired dwarf drew up a leg, leaning on it with his arms. “I was in the south when Balin’s message found me, asking me to come to Moria. The journey took months and when I arrived I did not find my friend…”

*-*

The chisel nearly slipped from Kili’s fingers, cluttering on the stone beneath. Impatiently he grasped it more firmly, continuing the band of runes on the stone tomb. Beside it had placed the Winterwolf – the symbol of Balin’s family. The silence was pressing down only interrupted by the metallic song of the chisel as Kili completed the tomb inscription. His thoughts wandered years back while he worked. When Balin had spoken of taking Moria, Kili had tried to talk him out of it. Balin of all people was content with Life in the Ered Luin. He had never longed for riches or fame. But this time Kili had not reached him. It was neither for greed or gold that Balin would wage this venture. He wished to see the line of Durin restored to Moria. Hoping to dissuade him Kili had gone as far as to refuse joining him, praying Balin would abstain from the risky undertaking.

When the messenger had found him, the message had been enthusiastic, speaking of success. And Kili had not found it in his heart to disappoint his old friend’s wish. Thus he had ridden to Moria, four hundred leagues across wilds and plains. But when he arrived at the mines, the tides had turned. Khazad-dum was under attack of Orc hordes and Balin… dear, brave Balin, had been mortally wounded in the first battle. All that Kili could do was sit with him, saying his goodbye, thanking the old warrior for a life in loyalty to his family.

The last rune was finished, two clean lines between the ornaments. Kili wished he had the time to make this stone coffin into a fitting monument. But it was doubtful there would be enough time. His fingers traced the lines brushing away the splinters remaining from the work.

Here lies Balin, son of Fundin,

Lord of Moria

Kili had placed the title there, in spite of knowing that Balin had never wanted that crown for himself. He had wanted to see that crown to return to Thorin’s bloodline. Yet, Balin’s very deeds had earned no other title.

“He’d chide you, if he saw this.” He deep voice grumbled behind him. Kili did not need to look to know it was Dwalin. The huge warrior had taken command when Balin fell and he was the only one who had come here since… since Balin had been laid to rest.

“He was the one who led our people here and held Moria, even if it was only for a time. Anything less would make little of his accomplishments.” Kili turned to face Dwalin, he could well imagine the pain the older dwarf was going through. He was surprised to find Dwalin much more in control than he’d had expected. “How is the situation out there?” He was weary, tired, but he asked anyway, knowing that Dwalin had come here for that very reason.

“Tense. We are holding ourselves for now, but the Orcs are getting reinforcements. I pulled the troops back from the upper reaches and the great hall to Halling’s crossing and Dwenderhil passage; we can hold those points more easily against great numbers.” Dwalin reported, knowing that Kili knew the map of Moria better than he himself did maybe. “What we do now… depends on you.” He gave Kili a grave look.

Kili put aside the chisel, standing at the foot of the grave. He knew the time of decision had come; right here and now it was up to him, if the others would accept him. They were well led by the mighty son of Fundin, and yet the grim warrior expected a decision from Kili. “Will you be with me Dwalin?” he asked softly.

Dwalin’s eyes widened, like he was horrified that Kili should even ask. He drew his axe in one fluid move and went to one knee presenting the blade to Kili. “I, Dwalin, son of Fundin, make this oath under the eye of Mahal: that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Kili son of Dari of the House of Durin, that I shall be in the forefront of fierce battle, forging ahead with my lord and friend, coming to the war-call carrying my weapons; and when no battle causes the war-horn to blow, I shall not forget my duties, but will offer wise counsel as I may. And though I had rather lay down my life than see harm come to my lord, still should the poisoned point or aged edge strike him down, then I shall not flee a single footlength from the field, but rather shall advance into the enemy army, slaying as I might, to avenge the protector of the people. And by Mahal, and by Eru's gift, may this axe smite me upon which my hand rests, may my own edge twist and turn against me should I fail to keep this oath.”

Kili’s first reflex would have been to hinder Dwalin kneeling down but he couldn’t and he knew he could never rebuke that oath, given in honest loyalty. It would deeply hurt his old friend, if he so did. So he straightened up and placed his hand on Dwalin’s bare head. “I have heard your oath, as have the forefathers. Hear you then my vow to you: no loyalty shall be forgotten, if to the lawcourt you are called, in legal tangles twisted and tied, then I and all of my kin shall stand as oath-helpers if you should need this; and finally, my sword shall stand between you and your enemies, my strength beside you boldly, for bare is a brotherless back.” It was a shortened version of the full oath, the only promise Kili was able to give and uphold still, with his house in exile any other promise would have been hollow.

When the oath was spoken he touched Dwalin’s shoulders, pulling him up and into an embrace, deeply moved by the loyalty the mighty warrior had shown him. After a moment Dwalin stepped back, clearing his throat. “What now, my Prince?”

“Gather all that are willing to follow me, we are leaving Moria.” Kili said firmly.

“We lost the gates.” Dwalin pointed out.

“There are ways, Dwalin, secret passages through Moria, hidden doors only known to the House of Durin himself.” Kili explained. “We will need to go deeper, as it is the only way to evade the Orcs pouring up to fight us. But if we move swiftly and fearlessly we shall pass through the shadow before they can reach us.”

The broad-shouldered warrior’s eyes went to his brother’s tomb and Kili could well understand how the man felt. Kili’s own brother slept in a similar grave thousand leagues from here. “Your brother’s dream was noble and brave, Dwalin,” the dwarven Prince said softly. “and I wish with all my heart that he had succeeded. That he was with us still. But he fell and we stand no chance to fight this out. He would never forgive me for seeing your lives sacrificed for nothing.” A great sadness echoed in Kili’s voice, he was not ashamed to show the pain at losing one of his oldest friends. “Even if we conquer these Orcs, there still is Durin’s bane to contend with and he won’t sleep for long when Durin’s blood walks these halls.”

If no other argument reached Dwalin, the last did. “I will call for them.” He said, turning to get down to business.

“You can’t just do that, you have no right.” Ori was enraged, as was Oin and a number of others. “You betray all Balin dreamed off.”

Kili squared his shoulders. “Balin never advocated to waste lives on cold gold and jewels, he believed in life and in making good use of the time that we have.” He said passionately. “and I feel in my heart that he would not wish us to waste even one man to defend a tomb. Not even one as beloved as his.” Many dwarves joined Kili’s side, lining up behind where Dwalin stood by his side. Others remained undecided.

“I am staying.” Oin announced. “I will not give up Moria easily, even if Durin’s blood has lost the will to fight.”

Kili had to prevent Dwalin from striking down Oin for these words, but the ill was done, the split became a rift. Half the dwaves joined Kili, the rest remained.

Three nights and the darkest journey of his life later Kili was the last of two hundred dwarves to climb out of one of the old watchtowers in the flank of Zirakzigil. Behind them night fell upon Moria.

*-*

“We left Moria for the Ered Luin the morning after,” Kili finished the tale that been much painful to tell. “Dwalin and I agreed on fortifying Caldemir and making it our true city… I could not stay, for reasons most of you will know.” He did not need to explain that his very presence there caused too much strife with dwarves from other kingdoms and would inevitably lead to more hardship for his followers. “I do not know what happened after we left. But it is not hard to guess.”

Silence fell upon the group assembled there. Gimli had bowed his head, saddened by what he had heard and maybe shaken by it too. Gandalf shook his head but offered neither comfort nor council. Boromir had not moved from his spot but still observed Kili with surprise. He knew little of dwarves, had learned most of them during the last weeks, but to find his friend, his comrade, an exiled Prince of their kind was something he had not expected. “Kili,” he spoke up. “if your house does know Moria so well, can you guide us out of here?”

Author’s note

The quoted oath was inspired and partially taken from: www. vikinganswerlady. com/ oaths.shtml and adjusted for use on Arda.

Kili’s passphrase: Gurth gothrim Tel' Mithrim - Death to the foes of the Grey Company I did not create myself but found it on http://www.grey-company.org /Circle /language /phrase.htm.

As for the sequence of events – this is a total mix of movie and book. I decided to keep the book events where the stone was concerned, having Pippin drop it during their nightly camp, long before finding Balin’s grave.