Sanctuary of Arda

25 October, Year 3018 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

I woke early, feeling refreshed and well from my hurried and perilous journey back to Rivendell. As I opened my eyes slowly I saw that Enebaiel was awake as well, and was gazing at me softly with eyes full of love. Her arms and legs tightened around me in possessiveness and need. It made me smile.

"Good morning, my love," I said softly, caressing her face, "how long have you been awake?"

"About an hour," she answered, "you know I like watching you sleep."

It was all the prompting I needed to roll over on top of her and kiss her passionately. Things developed quite quickly to a long extended session of physically expressing our love for each other. After a quick breakfast we parted to do our daily jobs of living. Enebaiel was teaching rudimentary healing to all the elvish warriors these days, and it took quite a bite out of her time. Today was for me a special day, a day where all the events in Middle-Earth would come to a head.

I walked along the terraces above the loud-flowing Bruinen and watched the pale cool sun rise above the far mountains, and shine down, slanting through the thin silver mist; the dew upon the yellow leaves was glimmering, and the woven nets of gossamer twinkled on every bush. To the East the snow was white upon the peaks of the mountains. On a seat cut in the stone beside a turn in the path I came upon Gandalf, Bilbo and another younger hobbit deep in talk.

"Hullo! Good morning!" said Bilbo, "are you ready for the great council Harold the Black?"

"Indeed I am," I replied brushing some of the creases out of my black wizards' robe, "I am glad to see that you are safe Gandalf." I leaned against my staff, feeling a bit lazy.

"So am I," laughed Gandalf, "but thank you for your concern my friend."

"And who is this new hobbit who has come to Imladris?" I asked staring at the young hobbit, which had dark brown, curly hair and a pointed face with bright blue sapphire eyes.

"Frodo Baggins, is my name," answered the younger hobbit with wide eyes, staring at me with undisguised fascination.

"Ah yes, a nephew of Bilbo I take it?" I asked. Frodo nodded nervously. "I commend you Frodo, you have born a heavy burden, one which I would not wish on anyone," I said and noticed that Frodo automatically clutched something that was hidden underneath his shirt. I knew exactly what he hid. I could sense the One Ring the instant I returned to Rivendell yesterday, it was like a heavy black cloud that blotted out the sun.

"We must go," said Gandalf, standing up, "there is much to hear and decide today." Suddenly a single clear bell rang out. "That is the warning bell for the Council of Elrond," said Gandalf, "Come along now, all of us should be present."

I followed Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf quickly along the winding path back to the house; behind them uninvited and for the moment forgotten, trotted another hobbit that was a bit bigger and chubbier than Frodo. We walked to a porch where the light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the valley. The noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming riverbed. Birds were singing, and a wholesome peace lay on the land. Elrond was there, and several others were seated in silence about him. I saw Glorfindel and Gloin; a dwarf who let out an exclamation at seeing me and greeted me fondly.

"It's a wonder to see the Black Wizard," stated Gloin with his younger son, Gimli looking on in reverence.

"And it is always good to see more of the hardy folk," I replied with a smile. I now saw Aragorn sitting in a corner alone; clad in his old travel-worn clothes. The Ranger came forward and greeted me in elfish fashion; I had often helped in educating Aragorn in his early teenage years. "Good to see you well, Aragorn," I smiled.

"And you," replied the Ranger.

Elrond drew Frodo to a seat by his side, and presented him to the company saying: "Here, my friends, is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errant more urgent." He then pointed out those who Frodo had not met before. I knew all present except for a strange elf clad in green in brown, Legolas, a messenger of his father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves in Northern Mirkwood. And seated apart was a tall man with a fair and noble face, dark haired and gray eyed, proud and of stern glance. He was cloaked and booted as for a journey on horseback; and indeed though his garments were rich and his cloak lined with fur, they were stained with long travel. He had a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set; his locks were shorn about his shoulders. On a baldric he wore a great horn tipped with silver that was now laid upon his knees. He gazed at Frodo and Bilbo with sudden wonder; the glance he gave me was laced with suspicion and mistrust.

"Here," said Elrond to Gandalf and I, "is Boromir, a man from the South, he arrived in the gray morning, and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered."

The Council then began in earnest; much was spoken of events in the world outside, especially in the South, and in the wide lands east of the Mountains. Of these things I already knew much but the tale of Gloin was new to all. It appeared that in the midst of the splendor of their works of hands the Dwarfs of the Lonely Mountain were troubled.

"It is now many years ago that a shadow of disquiet came upon my people," said Gloin, "it was said that we were hemmed in a narrow place, and that greater wealth and splendor would be found in the wider world. Some spoke of Moria: the mighty work of our fathers that we call in our tongue; Khazad-dum; and they now declared that we had now the power and the numbers to return."

Gloin sighed: "Moria! Wonder of the Northern World! Too deep we delved there, and woke the nameless fear. Long have its vast mansions remained empty since the children of Durin fled, but now we spoke of it with longing and yet of dread. At last Balin, listened to the whispers, and resolved to go, and thought Dain did not give leave willingly he took with him Ori and Oin and many of our folk and went away south."

"That was thirty years ago, and for a while the news was good: messages reported that Moria had been entered and great work had begun there. Then there was silence, and no word ever came since. Then about a year ago a messenger came to Dain, but not from Moria, but from Mordor: a horseman in the night, who called Dain to his gate. The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. Rings he would give for it, such as he did of old. And he asked urgently concerning Hobbits, of what kind they were, where they lived. 'For Sauron knows,' said he, 'that one of them was known to you at a time.'

"At this we were greatly troubled, and we gave no answer. And then his fell voice lowered, and he would have sweetened it if he could, he asked that we give a small token of our friendship that we should find this hobbit thief and get from him willing or not, a little ring, the least of rings, that he once stole. That it was but a trifle that Sauron fancies. If we found it then three of the old rings that the Dwarf-sires once possessed would be returned, and the realm of Moria would be ours forever. He asked us only to find the thief and where he lived, and then we would have his Lord's eternal friendship. He asked us our answer and it was clear that if we refused, that things would go ill."

"Dain answered neither yea nor nay, but that he would consider it. The messenger then left with an air of foreboding. Heavy have the hearts been of our chieftains since that night. We could clearly see the warning of menace and deceit in the message, for we knew that the power that has re-entered Mordor had not changed and it has betrayed us of old. The messenger has returned three times and there has been no answer on our part. I have been sent by Dain to warn Bilbo that the Enemy seeks him, and why he desires this small ring. Also we seek the counsel of Elrond and Harold the Black, for the shadow grows and draws nearer. We have also learned that messengers have come to King Brand in Dale, and that he is afraid. We fear that he may yield. Already war is gathering on his eastern border. If we make no answer, the Enemy will use Men of his rule to assail King Brand, and Dale also."

"You have done well to come," said Elrond, "you will hear today all you need in order to understand the purposes of the enemy. There is nothing you can do, but to resist, with hope or without it. But you do not stand-alone. You will learn that your peril is that of the entire western world. The Ring! What shall we do with the least of them, the trifle that Sauron fancies? That is the doom we must deem." Elrond turned to face me, and I took the cue to address the Council.

"That is the purpose for which you are called here," I said, "no formal summons was sent to you, but yet here you are, as if by chance, strangers from distant lands. It is so that we, who are gathered here today, and none others shall find counsel for the peril of the world. Now things shall be spoken about openly that have remained hidden from all but a few till this day. And first, so that all may understand, what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall to be told from its beginning in the Second Age to this very day in which we now find ourselves. Elrond shall begin it, but others may finish."

Then all listened as Elrond in his clear voice spoke of Sauron and the Rings of Power, and their forging in the Second Age of the world long ago. How the elven-smiths Eregion were ensnared by their Sauron with their lust for knowledge. Of Numenor he spoke, their glory and their fall at the hands of Sauron. He spoke of his duties as herald of Gil-galad, and marched with his host, he was at the battle of Dagorlad, before the Black gates of Mordor. He beheld the last combat on the sloped of Orodruin, where Gil-galad died, and Elendil fell, and Narsil broke beneath him; but Sauron himself was overthrown, and Isildur cut the Ring from his hand with the hilt shard of his father's sword and took it for his own.

At this point Boromir broke in: "So that is what became of the Ring! If ever such a tale was told in the South, it has long been forgotten. I have heard of the Great Ring that belongs to the one that we do not name, we believed it perished from the world in his ruined first realm. Isildur took it! That is news indeed!"

"Yes," said Elrond, "Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast into the fire of Orodruin on that day, where it was made in the first place. But few saw what Isildur did, in the end only Cirdan and I knew. But he would not listen to our counsel. He took it as weregild for his father and brother; later the Ring betrayed him to his death and so it became known in the North as Isildur's Bane. The Last Alliance of Elves and Men was partially successful, Sauron was diminished but not destroyed. His Ring was lost but not unmade. The Dark Tower was broken, but its foundations were not removed; for it was made by the power of the Ring, and while it remains they will endure."

Boromir now stood up, tall and proud, before them. "Give me leave, Master Elrond," said he, "first to say more of Gondor, for from it I come. And it would be well for all to know what passes there. For few I deem, know of our deeds, and therefore guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last." The man from Gondor started to walk to the center so he could face and address all. "Don't believe that in Gondor the blood of Numenor is spent, not all its pride and dignity forgotten. By our valour the wild folk of the East are kept restrained, and the terror of Morgul kept at bay; and thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of the West. But if the passages of the River should be won, what then?"

"Yet that hour, is not far away. The Nameless Enemy has arisen again. Smoke rises once more from Orodruin that we call Mount Doom. The power of the Black Land grows and we are hard beset. When the enemy returned our folk were driven from Ithilien, our fair domain east of the River, though we kept a foothold there and strength of arms. But this very year, in the days of June, sudden war came upon us out of Mordor, and we were swept away. We were outnumbered, for Mordor has allied itself with the Easterlings and the cruel Haradrim; but it was not by numbers that we were defeated. A power was there that we have not felt before."

"Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath. I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down behind us. Four only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and two others. But we still fight on, holding all the west shores of Anduin; and those shelter behind us give us praise, if they hear our name: much praise but little help. Only now from Rohan will any men ride to us when we call."

"In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond: hundred and ten days journey all alone. But I do not seek allies in war. The might of Elrond is in wisdom not in weapons, it is said. I come to ask for counsel. For on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came to him again, and once to me."

"In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice crying:

Seek for the sword that was broken

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stonger than Morgul spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

"Of these words we understood little, and we spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the Lore of Gondor. He said only that we should go to Imladris, as there was where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest of Lore-masters. Therefore my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek Imladris; but since the way was full of danger and doubt, I took the journey upon myself."

"And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you," said Aragorn standing up. He placed his sword upon the table that stood before Elrond, and the blade was in two pieces. "Here is the sword that was broken," he said.

"And who are you, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?" asked Boromir, looking in wonder at the lean face of the Ranger and his weather stained cloak.

"He is Aragorn son of Arathorn," I replied; "and he is descended through many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son of Minas Ithil. He is the Chief of the Dunedain in the North, and few are left of that folk."

"Then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!" cried Frodo in amazement springing to his feet. My eyes widened in astonishment at the little hobbit. It would be a huge mistake to give Aragorn the Ring, lest he be tempted and snared by it.

"It does not belong to either of us," said Aragorn, "but it has been ordained that you should hold it for a while." I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I had long ago taught Aragorn of the temptations of power and how to resist it, I was glad that he took my lessons to mind and heart.

"Bring out the Ring, Frodo," said Gandalf solemnly, "the time has come. Hold it up and then Boromir will understand the rest of the riddle."

There was a silence that descended on all present, and I turned to look at Frodo. The hobbit seemed struck by sudden shame and fear; and he seemed very reluctant to follow Gandalf's instruction. I sighed; the Ring has already gotten some feelers of temptation into the Hobbits heart. But he eventually complied and held it up before them in his trembling hand. The Ring gleamed and flickered.

"Behold Isildur's Bane!" said Elrond.

Boromir's eyes glinted as he gazed the golden thing. "The Halfling!" he muttered. "Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last? But why then should we seek a broken sword?"

"The riddle does not say the doom of Minas Tirith," I answered, "but that doom and great deeds are at hand. The doom could refer to the doom of Sauron, or ours."

"The sword that was broken is the Sword of Elendil," said Aragorn, "that broke beneath him when he fell. It has been treasure by his heirs when all other heirlooms were lost; for it was spoken of old among us that it should be made again when the Ring, Isildur's Bane, was found. Now you have seen the sword that you have sought what would you ask? Do you wish for the house of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?"

"I was not sent to beg any boon, but to seek only the meaning of the riddle," answered Boromir proudly. "Yet we are hard pressed, and the Sword of Elendil would be a help beyond our hope - if such a thing could indeed return out of the shadows of the past." He looked again at Aragorn and doubt was in his eyes. I saw that suddenly Bilbo stood with annoyance out of his seat and he suddenly burst out with a rhyme:

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be the blade that was broken:

The crownless again shall be king.

"Not very good perhaps, but to the point," snapped Bilbo, "if you need more beyond the word of Elrond. If that was worth the journey of a hundred and ten days to hear, you had best listen to it." He sat down with a snort. I had to fight to keep from laughing at Bilbo's annoyance with Boromir, but my mouth quirked up at the corners with a smile. Gandalf looked at me reprovingly. Aragorn smiled at Bilbo; then turned to Boromir again.

"For my part I forgive your doubt," said Aragorn, "little do I resemble the figures of Elendil and Isildur as they stand carven in their majesty in the halls of Denethor. I am but the heir, not Isildur himself. I have had a hard life: and the leagues that lie between here and Gondor are but a small part of my journeys. But my home such as I have, is in the North. For here have the heirs of Valandil have ever dwelt in a long line unbroken from father unto son for many generations. Our days have darkened, and we have dwindled; but ever the sword has passed to a new keeper. Lonely men are we, Rangers of the wild, hunters - but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy; for they are found in many places, not in Mordor only."

"If Gondor, Boromir, has been a stalwart tower, we have played another part. Many evil things there are that your strong walls and bright swords do not stay. You know little of the lands beyond your bounds. Peace and freedom you say? The North would have known these little but for us. Fear would have destroyed them. But when dark things come from the houseless hills, or creep from sunless woods, they fly from us."

"And yet less thanks have we than you. Travelers scowl at us, and countrymen give me scornful names. 'Strider' I am to one fat man who lives within a day's march of foes that would freeze his heart, or lay his little town in ruin, if he were guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would not have it otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple folk they will remain. That has been the task of my kindred. But a new hour comes. The Sword shall be reforged. I will come to Minas Tirith."

"Isildur's Bane is found you say," said Boromir. "I have seen a bright ring in the Halfling's hand; but Isildur perished ere this age of the world began, they say. How do the Wise know that this ring is his? And how has it passed down the years, until it was brought forward by such a strange messenger?"

"That shall be told," said Elrond. The Chief Eldar bid Bilbo to describe his tale of how he found the Ring in a lonely cave in the Misty Mountains. He spoke of the creature Gollum, who was the ring's keeper before him. He spoke of how the ring when placed on his finger would grant him to pass unseen by all eyes, and finally how he passed it down to his nephew Frodo. I knew this story well, as Bilbo had written it down and often asked me to proofread it. But I did not know of Frodo's story. Frodo told of all his dealings with the Ring from the day that it passed into his keeping. Every step of his journey from Hobbiton to the Ford of Bruinen was questioned and considered, and everything that he could recall concerning the Black Riders was examined. At last he sat down again.

"There is your answer Boromir," I said, "and now you know also why you were so relatively easily defeated at the River. You were assailed by a foe I have fought many times throughout the past. He is the Captain of the Black Riders, and he carries the greatest Ring among the Nine that were gifted by Sauron to Men. He is the Witch-King of Angmar. He carries a fell Morgul sword in his right hand and a spear of despair in the other, to wound the courage and hope in the hearts of all." Boromir regarded me with thoughtfulness and nodded his understanding.

"But the story still does not seem complete to me," said Frodo, "especially what happened to Gandalf. He would not answer my questions as to why he was delayed. And anything that delays a wizard must be perilous." This perked my attention as well and I turned my piercing gaze to look at Gandalf. I could easily see beyond the façade my friend put up and could see he was rather embarrassed.

Galdor of the Havens, who sat near by perked up at this: "You speak for me also," said he, "the Wise may have good reason to believe the Halfling's trove is indeed the Great Ring of long debate, unlikely though that may seem to those who know less. But may we not hear the proofs? And I ask you this also. What of Saruman? He is learned in the lord of the Rings."

"Yes Gandalf," I prompted, "why is Saruman the White not here? What is his illustrious counsel?" I asked with sarcasm dripping from my voice. Gandalf stood and looked at me first and then Galdor.

"Some, Galdor," said Gandalf, "would think the tidings of Gloin, and the pursuit of Frodo, proof enough that the halfling's trove is a thing of great worth to the Enemy. Yet it is a ring. What then? The Nine the Nazgul keep. The Seven are taken or destroyed." At this Gloin stirred, but did not speak. "The Three we know of. What then is this one that he so desires?"

"Some here will remember that many years ago, Harold the Black and I dared to pass the doors of the Necromancer in Dol Goldur, and secretly explored his ways, and found that our fears were true: he was none other than Sauron himself, our enemy of old, at length taking shape and power again. Some too will remember that Saruman dissuaded us from open deeds against him, for long we watched him only." I started to get a hollow feeling in my stomach as I sensed the underlying words from Gandalf, coupled with my knowledge of Saruman. "Yet at last, as his shadow grew, Saruman yielded, and the council put forth its strength and drove the evil out of Mirkwood - and that was the very year of the finding of the Ring: a strange coincidence, if it even was so."

"But we were too late as Elrond foresaw. Sauron also had watched us, and had long prepared against our attack, governing Mordor from afar through Minas Morgul, where his Nine servants dwelt, until all was ready. Then he gave way before us, but only feigned to flee, and soon after came to the Dark Tower and openly declared himself. Then for the last time did the White Council meet; for now we learned that he was ever more seeking eagerly for the One. We feared that he had gotten some news of it that we did not have. But Saruman refuted this and said to us again what he said before: the One Ring would never be found in Middle Earth again. He said he had studied greatly into the matter and said that it had rolled down the River into the Sea."

"I had few reasons to doubt Saruman, as he made great studies of the arts of the enemy, but my lingering doubts was enough for me to seek consul with Harold the Black, who also since his arrival in Middle-Earth has studied the Rings of Power in earnest. Harold?" prompted Gandalf. I sighed and stood to address the Council.

"I will not go into great detail about the powers of the Ring, and what empowers it, for it is beyond the understanding of those without knowledge of the arcane powers that govern Arda itself," I said, "but simply put, if the Ring had passed beyond into the Sea, all that was created with it would slowly whither as all things would in the passage of time. The One Ring is connected to Middle-Earth, as it was forged here, and its power is only here. Sauron would not have been able to come forth again after his fall at the hands of Isildur if the Ring had not remained here, the Dark Tower and the Black Gate would not be standing, as the Last Alliance would have been able to raze the structures. But all the enemies creations endured and are now stronger than ever," I explained.

"And here I was at fault," said Gandalf, "I was lulled by the words of Saruman the Wise, despite Harold's contradictory counsel. I reasoned that he would in any case oppose Saruman, as it was the reason he was given the color of Black. I should have realized my error sooner, and our peril would now be less."

"We were all at fault," said Elrond, "and but for your vigilance the Darkness, maybe, would already be upon us."

"My heart deceived me, against all reason that I knew," said Gandalf, "and I desired to know how this thing came to Gollum, and how long he had possessed it. So I set watch for him, guessing that would come looking for his treasure. He came but escaped from our grasp. And then like a fool, I let the matter rest! Watching and waiting only, as we have too often done, it's but for the actions of Harold the Black that we are allowed this brief time to discuss the truth of things. He has long held himself an independent member of the White Council, and comes and goes of his own will and strikes where he thinks best."

"Time passed with many cares, until my doubts were awakened again to sudden fear. From where came the hobbit's ring? What, if my fear was true, should be done with it? Those things I must decide. But I spoke yet of my dread to none, knowing the peril of an untimely whisper, if it went astray. In all the long wars with the Dark Tower treason has ever been out greatest foe."

"You come across a dilemma that has long been the bane of wizard's Gandalf," I said, "secrets discovered about the enemy is a perilous thing; you keep it to yourself in fear that it would tip your hand, but yet if you do not share it you might as well have not known the secret at all, for it's use is diminished." Gandalf sighed and gazed eastward.

"Verily, Harold the Black, and I hope you can forgive my lapse in not brining this matter to you," said Gandalf with regret.

"There is nothing to forgive, actions of the heart and mind are two very different things, you acted as you thought best with the information you had," I replied with a kind smile at my friend, "but please continue your story."

"Yes, that was seventeen years ago," said Gandalf, "soon I became aware that spies of many sorts, even birds and beasts, were gathered around the Shire, and my fear grew. I called for the help of the Dunedain, and their watch was doubled; I opened my heart to Aragorn."

"And I," said Aragorn, "counseled that we should hunt for Gollum, too late though it may seem. And since it seemed fit that Isildur's heir should labor to repair Isildur's fault, I went with Gandalf on the long and hopeless search."

Then Gandalf told the Council how they had explored the whole length of Wilderland, down even to the Mountains of Shadow and the fences of Mordor. "There we had rumor of him, and we guess that he dwelt there long in the dark hills; but we never found him, and at last I despaired. And then in my despair I thought again of a test that might make the finding of Gollum unnecessary. The ring itself might tell if it were the One. The memory of words at the Council came back to me: words of Saruman, half-heeded at the time. I heard them now clearly in my heart:

The Nine, the Seven, and the Three, had each their proper gem. Not so the One. It was round and unadorned, as if it were one of the lesser rings; but its maker set marks upon it that the skilled, maybe, still see and read.

"What those marks were he had not said. Who now would know? Saruman? But great though his lore may be, it must have a source. And if I had allowed myself to trust Harold in this matter I would have remembered that in his private domain, which I have but entered once many years ago, he kept a great many copies of the lore of the Rings, as he has studied it even more than Saruman. But I held firm in the belief of silence and passed swiftly to Gondor, where I knew Harold had spent a great time doing research over a millennia ago. Lord Denethor grudgingly permitted me to search among his hoarded scrolls and books."

"Then," said Gandalf, "I found a scroll written in the ancient tongues of Numenor as Isildur would speak it, and very few lore-masters have the skill to read it, if any." Gandalf turned to me again and gestured for me to speak.

"The scroll that Gandalf speaks of I found and translated in the year 1642 of the Third Age, when I saw of what it spoke, I made copies of it immediately. It was written by Isildur himself and concerns the finding of the Ring of Power. He wrote:

The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but records of it shall be left in Gondor, where also dwell the heirs of Elendil, less a time come when the memory of these great matter shall grow dark.

"After this he describes the Ring, such as he found it," I said and recited from memory:

It was hot when I first took it, hot as molten steel, and my hand was scorched, so that I doubt I shall ever be free of the pain of it. Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it's shrinking, though not losing its beauty or its shape. Already the writing upon it, which was as clear as red flame, is beginning to fade and now is barely legible. It is fashioned in an elven script of Eregion, for they have no letters in Mordor for such subtle work; but the language is unknown to me. I deem it to be a tongue of the Black Land, since it is foul and uncouth. What evil it says I do not know; but I trace here a copy of it, lest it fade beyond recall. The Ring misses the hand of its master; Sauron's hand, which was black but yet burned like fire, and so Gil-galad was destroyed; and maybe were the gold made hot again, the writing would be refreshed. But for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.

"Isildur traced the following words that he saw on the Ring: 'Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakantuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul,'" I said, my voice becoming as harsh as stone, menacing and powerful as I spoke in the tongue of Mordor. A shadow seemed to briefly pass over the sun, and the porch for the moment grew dark. Everyone around me trembled, and the Elves stopped their ears.

"Never before has any voice dared to utter words of that tongue in Imladris, Istar-ion," said Elrond, I could sense his fatherly anger at me, as the shadow passed and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"And let us hope that none ever speak it here again," said Gandalf.

"I ask your pardon Lord Elrond," I said solemnly, "for I spoke it to bring across the gravity of the situation we all face. If we do nothing then we will soon hear that tongue spoken in every corner of the West. Frodo," I beckoned to the hobbit, "place the Ring on the stone podium." Hesitantly the hobbit walked forward and put it down on the podium in the center of the council and backed off from it. I raised my staff. "Flamacreacio," I muttered. Fire erupted from the podium and bathed the Ring with tongues of red flame. I let it go on for about a minute and cancelled the spell. Everyone could clearly see the writing on it and it fit Isildur's account to the letter. "Out of the Black Years come the words that the smiths of Eregion heard, and they knew they had been betrayed:

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them.

Gandalf spoke next: "Know also, my friends, which I learned from Gollum when we finally managed to capture him, that he had been in Mordor, and there all he knew was forced from him. The Enemy knows now that the One is found, that it was long in the Shire; and since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, he soon will know, already he may know, even as I speak, that we have it here." All sat silent for a while, until at length Boromir spoke.

"He is a small thing you say, this Gollum? Small, but great in mischief. What became of him? What doom did you put him?" said Boromir.

"He is in prison, but no worse," said Aragorn, "he had suffered much. There is no doubt that he was tortured, and the fear of Sauron lies black on his heart. Still I for one am glad he is safely kept by the watchful Elves of Mirkwood. I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand."

"Alas!" cried Legolas, with distress on his face, "the tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this Council. Smeagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."

"Escaped?" asked Aragorn in astonishment, "we shall rue that bitterly, I fear. How come the folk of Thranduil fail in their trust?"

I listened to the elf from Mirkwood as he described Gollum's escape. How they were too lenient and kind in their watch over Gollum. They had allowed the creature to climb a tree and get some exercise, but when the elves on watch told him to come down; he refused and did not answer. The guards had no mind to climb up and get him. At that moment Orcs suddenly staged a surprise attack on the guards. They managed to eventually defeat the company of Orcs eventually but Gollum had used it to his advantage and slipped away.

"Well, well, he is gone," said Gandalf, "we have no time to seek for him again. He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen. And now I will answer Harold and Galdor's question. What of Saruman? What are his counsels to us in this need? This is a tale that I have told no one but Elrond yet, and only in brief, so I must tell it in full."

"At the end of June I was in the Shire, but a cloud of anxiety was on my mind, and I rode the southern borders of the little land; for I had a foreboding of danger, still hidden but drawing near. There messages reached me of war and defeat in Gondor. But I found nothing save a few fugitives from the South; yet on them sat a fear that they would not speak of. I turned then east and north and journeyed along the Greenway; and not far from Bree I came upon a traveler sitting on a bank beside the road with his grazing horse beside him. It was Radagast the Brown. He is one of my order, but I had not seen him for many a year. He brought me news of the Nine, that they had crossed the River secretly and were moving westward, and that they have taken the guise of riders in black. Radagast told me that they were asking for a land known as the Shire. He informed me that the Black Captain had issued forth as well. But Radagast was also there to bring me a message from Saruman the White, that if I felt the need for help, then I must seek his aid at once or it will be too late."

"The message brought me hope. For Saruman the White is the greatest of my order. Radagast is, of course, a worthy Wizard, a master of shapes and changes of hue; and has much lore of herbs and beasts, and birds are especially his friends. But Saruman has long studied the arts of the Enemy himself, and thus we have often been able to forestall him. I agreed to go to Saruman at once, and requested from Radagast that he ask for news on the matter from all the birds and beasts that are his friends, and that all messages were to go to Orthanc. Radagast bid me farewell and rode off as if the Nine were after him. I decided that I had no time to return to the Shire. Never did I make a greater mistake!"

"I wrote a message to Frodo, and trusted my friend the innkeeper to send it to him. I rode away at dawn and at long last to the dwelling of Saruman. That is far to the south in Isengard, in the end of the Misty Mountains, not far from the Gap of Rohan. Late one evening I came to the gate, like a great arch in the wall of rock; and it was strongly guarded. But the gatekeepers were on watch for me and said that Saruman awaited me. I rode under the arch and the gate closed behind me and suddenly I was afraid, though I knew no reason for it."

"But I rode to the foot of Orthanc, and came to the stair of Saruman; and there he met me and led me up to his chamber. He wore a ring on his finger."

**Flashback**

"So you have come, Gandalf," said Saruman, and in his eyes was a white light, and a cold laughter in his heart.

"Yes I have come," said Gandalf, "I have come for your aid Saruman the White." Saruman's face grew angered at the title.

"Have you indeed, Gandalf the Grey!" scoffed Saruman. "For aid? It has seldom been heard that Gandalf the Grey has sought for aid, one so cunning and wise, wandering about the lands, and concerning himself in every business, whether it belongs to him or not. Why not change your color to Black in the Order and be done with it?"

Gandalf looked at him and wondered. "But if I am not deceived," said Gandalf, "things are now moving which will require the union of all our strength."

"That may be so," said Saruman, "but the thought is late in coming to you. How long, I wonder, have you concealed from me, the head of the Council, and a matter of great import? What brings you now from you lurking place in the Shire?"

"The Nine have come again," answered Gandalf, "they have crossed the River. So Radagast said to me."

"Radagast the Brown!" laughed Saruman, with scorn in his voice. "Radagast the Bird-tamer! Radagast the Simple! Radagast the Fool! Yet he had the wit to play the part that I set him. For you have come, and that was all the purpose of my message. And here you shall stay, Gandalf the Grey, and rest from journeys. For I am Saruman the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colors!"

Gandalf looked closely and saw that Saruman's robes, which had seemed white, were not so, but were woven of all colors, and if he moved they shimmered and changed hue so that the eye was bewildered.

"I liked white better," said Gandalf dryly.

"White!" sneered Saruman. "It serves as a beginning. White cloth may be dyed. The white page can be overwritten; and the white light can be broken."

"In which case it is no longer white," said Gandalf, "and he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom."

"You need not speak to me as one of the fools that you take for friends," sneered Saruman, "you are not here to instruct me, but for me to give you a choice." Saruman drew himself up and began to speak as if he were making a speech long rehearsed. "The Elder Days are gone. The Middle Days are passing. The Younger Days are beginning. The time of the Elves is over, but our time is at hand: the world of Men, which We must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see. And listen, Gandalf, my old friend and helper!" said Saruman. "I said we, for we it may be, if you will join with me. A new Power is rising. Against it the old allies and policies will not avail us. There is no hope left in Elves or dying Numenor. This then is one choice before you, before us. We may join with that Power. It would be wise, Gandalf. There is hope that way. Its victory is at hand; and there will be rich reward for those who have aided it. As the Power grows, its proved friends will also grow; and the Wise, such as you and I, may with patience come at last to direct its courses, to control it. We can bide our time, we can keep our thoughts in our hearts, deploring maybe evils done by the way, but approving the high and ultimate purpose: Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the things that we have so far striven in vain to accomplish, hindered rather than helped by our weak or idle friends. There need not be, there would not be, any real change in our designs, only in our means."

"Saruman," sighed Gandalf, "I have heard speeches of this kind before, but only in the mouths of emissaries sent from Mordor to deceive the ignorant. I cannot think you have brought me so far only to weary my ears." Saruman looked at Gandalf sidelong, a paused a while, in thought.

"Well, I see that this path does not commend itself to you," said Saruman, "Not yet? Not if some better way could be found?" The former white wizard laid his long hand on Gandalf's arm. "And why not Gandalf? Why not? The Ruling Ring? If we could command that, then the Power would pass to us. That is in truth why I brought you here. For I have many eyes in my service, and I believe that you know where this precious thing now lies. Is it not so? Or why do the Nine ask for the Shire, and what is your business there?" Saruman now spoke with a light of lust that was shining in his eyes.

"Saruman," said Gandalf, standing away from him, "only one hand at a time can wield the One, and you know that well, so do not trouble to say we! But I would not give it, no, I would not give even news of it to you, now that I learn your mind. You were the head of the Council, but you have unmasked yourself at last. It's a pity only Harold the Black could truly see you for who you are. He warned me long ago that this could happen, and to think I scoffed at the very notion! Well, the choices are, it seems, to submit to Sauron, or to yourself. I will take neither. Have you others to offer?"

Saruman's aura radiated coldness and peril. "Yes, I did not expect you to show wisdom, even in your own behalf; but I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly, and so saving yourself much trouble and pain. The third choice is to stay here until the end." The words were the only warning, as Saruman raised his staff and flung a Blasting Spell that knocked Gandalf to the ground. The Grey Wizard recovered and reciprocated with a similar spell that flung Saruman in the air and knocked him against the wall. Gandalf had barely time to attack again, when from his kneeling position Saruman hurled a Bludgeoning Curse that caused the Grey wizard to double over in pain.

Gandalf fought through the effect of the curse and cast a Manipulation Spell on Saruman. A giant invisible hand picked Saruman up and flung him through a door, into his study. Gandalf rushed forward to follow on the attack but Saruman had only feigned his weakness and got up to kneel on the floor and threw a Disarming Curse with his open hand that robbed Gandalf of his staff. Saruman now turned both his staff and Gandalf's against the grey wizard. Two Blasting Curses caused Gandalf to fly backward and land sprawled on his back, multiple cuts on his face now bleeding.

Saruman walked forward, and started threw a Levitation Curse that slowly started to spin Gandalf like a top and with a final heave of both staffs threw Gandalf up in the air high, through the high levels of Orthanc.

**End**

"I woke up," said Gandalf, "on the pinnacle of Orthanc, where Saruman often gazes at the stars. And the stairway sealed shut, and valley below is far away in height. I looked on it and saw that where it had once been green and fair, it was now filled with pits and forges. Wolves and orcs were housed in Isengard, for Saruman was mustering a great force on his own account, in rivalry with Sauron and not in his service yet. Over all his works a dark smoke hung and wrapped around the sides of Orthanc. I stood alone on an island in the clouds; and I had no chance of escape, and my days were bitter. I was cold, and had but little room to pace, brooding on the Riders that have come to the North."

I could no longer contain my anger, and stood to pace restlessly in the small spot in front of my chair.

"Tell me Gandalf, what is to stop me right now from enchanting a traveling device into Orthanc and killing Saruman?" I fumed.

"You cannot do that Istar-ion," said Elrond, "Saruman may yet turn from this path."

"I doubt that!" I snapped and sat down gritting my teeth, trying to calm down, "sorry Gandalf, continue this story of treason on a scale unsurpassed in all the Ages." Gandalf nodded.

"As you will see, I was in an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom been in such need, and do not bear such misfortune well. Gandalf the Grey caught like a fly in a spider's web! Yet even the most subtle spiders may leave a weak thread," said Gandalf.

"At first I feared, that Radagast has also fallen. Yet I had caught no hint of anything wrong in his voice or in his eye at our meeting. If I had, I should never have gone to Isengard, or I should have gone more warily. So Saruman guessed, and he had concealed his mind and deceived his messenger. It would have useless in any case to try and win over the honest Radagast to treachery. He sought me in good faith, and so persuaded me."

"That was the undoing of Saruman's plot. For Radagast knew no reason why he should not do as I asked; and rode away towards Mirkwood where he had many friends of old. And the Eagles of the Mountains went far and wide and saw many things: the gathering of wolves and the mustering of Orcs; and the Nine Riders going this way and that in the lands; and they heard news of the escape of Gollum. And they sent a messenger to bring these tidings to me. So at the end of summer, there came a night of moon, and Gwaihir the Windlord, swiftest of the Great Eagles, came unlooked for to Orthanc; and he found me standing on the pinnacle. Then I spoke to him and he rescued me, and bore me swiftly to Rivendell."

"Good to see that Gwaihir came through for you in dire need Gandalf," I said with a laugh, "he always is such a cynical old fellow."

"Yes indeed," chuckled Gandalf, "but that is the end of my account. May you all forgive the length of it, as no such thing has ever happened before."

"This is most grievous news Gandalf," said Elrond, "Saruman was deep in our counsels."

"And now many of the decisions he made becomes clear," I murmured in thought, "his counsels delayed the Wise in taking action against Sauron. He clearly hoped that in time the Ring would show itself, seeking its master, if Sauron was let be for a while."

"Yes, but now we must address the question: What to do with this Ring?" asked Elrond of the Council.

"Can it be hidden?" asked Glorfindel.

"No," I replied, "the Ring has awoken; it yearns to returns to its master's hand. If anyone were to hide it in some place of strength, the Ring would soon drive him to evil in his mind."

"What about destroying it? Does none of us possess an art that can undo this thing?" asked Galdor.

"There is no art among the Wise or anyone here that can undo the One," answered Elrond.

"Shall we then send it over the Sea?" asked Cirdan.

"No," said Elrond, "those who dwell beyond the Sea would not receive it: for good or ill it belongs to Middle-Earth; it is for us who still dwell here to deal with it."

"Then let us cast it into the deeps," said Glorfindel, "and so make the lies of Saruman come true. For it clear now that even at the Council his feet were already on a crooked path. He knew that the Ring was not lost for ever, but wished us to think so; for he began to lust for it himself. Often in lies, truths are hidden: in the Sea it would be safe."

"Not safe for ever," said Gandalf, "there are many things in the deep waters; and seas and land may change. And it not our part here to take thought for only a season, and Age, or a few live of Men, but for a final end to this menace, even if we do not make one."

"Then," said Erestor, "there are but two courses; to hide the Ring for ever, or to unmake it. But both are beyond our power. Who will read this riddle of us?"

"None here can do so," said Elrond gravely, "but it seems to me clear now which road we must take. The westward road seems easiest, therefore it must be shunned. It will be watched. Too often the Elves have fled that way. Now at this last we must take a hard road, a road unforeseen, therein lies our hope, if hope it be. To walk into peril - into Mordor, we must cast the Ring back into the Fire from which it came."

Boromir stirred, fingering his horn, and at length he spoke. "Is this not a gift beyond our wildest dreams? The weapon of the Enemy in our hands to be used against him."

"No!" I exclaimed. "We cannot use the Ruling Ring. It belongs to Sauron and was made by him alone, and is altogether evil. Its strength, Boromir, is too great for anyone to wield at will, save only those who have already a great power of their own. But for them it holds an even deadlier peril. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. Consider Saruman. If any of the Wise should with this Ring overthrow the Lord of Mordor, using his own arts, he would then set himself on Sauron's throne, and yet another Dark Lord would appear. And that is another reason why the Ring should be destroyed: as long as it in the world it will be a danger even to the Wise. For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so. I fear to take the Ring to hide it. I will not take the Ring to wield it."

"Nor I," said Gandalf.

"But what then would happen, if the Ruling Ring were destroyed, as you counsel?" asked Gloin.

"We know not for certain," said Elrond sadly, "some hope that the Three Rings of the Elves, which Sauron has never touched, would then become free, and their rulers would heal the hurts of the world that he has wrought. But maybe when the One has gone, the Three will fall, and many fair things will fade and be forgotten. That is my belief."

"Yet the Elves are willing to endure this chance," said Glorfindel, "if by it the power of Sauron may be broken, and the fear of his dominion be taken away for ever."

"Thus we return once more to the destroying of the Ring," said Erestor, "and yet we come no nearer. What strength have we for the finding of the Fire in which it was made? That is the path of despair. Of folly. I would say, if the long wisdom of Elrond did not forbid me."

"Despair, or folly?" said Gandalf. "It is not despair, for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not. Then let folly be our cloak, a veil before the eyes of the Enemy! For Sauron is very wise, and weighs all things to a nicety in the scales of his malice. But the only measure that he knows is desire, desire for power; and so he judges all. To him the thought will not occur that any would refuse it, that having the Ring we may seek to destroy it. If we seek this, we shall put him out of reckoning."

"For a while only," said Elrond, "the road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far along it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. But such is often the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere."

"Very well, Master Elrond," snapped Bilbo suddenly, I frowned in anger at his tone to my adopted-father, "say no more! It is clear what you are pointing at. Bilbo the silly hobbit started this mess, and Bilbo had better finish it, or himself. I was comfortable here, and getting on with my book. If you want to know, I am just writing the ending for it. I had thought of putting: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days. Now I shall have to alter that: it does not look like coming true; and anyway there will evidently be more chapters, if I live to write them. When ought I to start?"

"Of course, my dear Bilbo," said Gandalf. "If you had really started this affair, you might be expected to finish it. But you know well enough now that starting is too great a claim for any, and that only a small part is played in great deeds by any hero. But beyond the jest, we know that you are making a valiant offer. But one beyond your strength Bilbo. You cannot take the Ring back. It has passed on. I would say that your part is ended, unless as a recorder. Finish your book, and leave the ending unaltered! There is still hope for it. But get ready to write a sequel, when they come back."

"I have never known you to give me pleasant advice before," laughed Bilbo, "but what do you mean by they?"

"The messengers who are sent with the Ring," answered Gandalf.

"Exactly! And who are they to be? That seems to me what this Council has to decide, and all that it has to decide," said Bilbo in reply.

I sat in contemplation and dared not venture an answer, but I knew one thing for certain, I would be one of the messengers. I had long ago vowed to Elrond to bring down Sauron using all of my means, and destroying the One Ring was right now the only real attainable means of brining about the Dark Lord's end. I suppose I could have apparated into Mordor in this very moment and infiltrate the Dark Tower and fight Sauron, but it would be fruitless, I would only be fighting him partially. Just like I could not kill Voldemort all those countless years ago in my youth when he was still a shade of spirit, and not alive, similarly, I could not kill Sauron, though it was certainly within my means to do so had he been a complete being. Suddenly, a voice spoke, breaking the silence, it belonged to Frodo.

"I will take the Ring," said the young hobbit, "though I do not know the way." I turned to look at the hobbit and my heart was torn with compassion for the young Halfling. It flung my mind back to remember how a fifteen year old boy was being told he was the only hope for the salvation of an entire world.

"If I understand all that I have heard," said Elrond staring piercingly at Frodo, "I think this task is appointed to you, and if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour when the Shire-folk will arise to shake the towers and the counsels of the Great. But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. But you take it freely; I would say that your choice is right."

"But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" cried Sam, unable to contain himself any longer, and jumping up from the corner where he had been quietly sitting on the floor. My mouth twitched in amusement as the chubby hobbit had clearly thought he was unchecked in his hiding place.

"No, indeed!" said Elrond, turning towards him with a smile. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." Sam sat down, blushing and muttering to Frodo. Gandalf stood and placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder giving the young hobbit a crooked grin.

"I shall help you bear this burden Frodo," said Gandalf, "with all that is in my power." Gandalf now took a place behind the hobbit. I walked forward and knelt in front of Frodo, I looked into his eyes with an empathic glance.

"A wizard is going with you, and some would think that one is enough, but I long ago swore an oath to defeat Sauron. If through my help, you can achieve this quest; my pledge to this world will be fulfilled. I lend you my power, my strength, and what wisdom I have," I said with sincerity. I stood and walked next to Gandalf.

Aragorn came forward and kneeled before Frodo and said simply: "You have my sword."

Legolas rose from his chair: "You have my bow!"

Gimli, Gloin's son stood not missing a beat: "And my axe!"

Boromir, stood and walked slowly forward, glancing at the members of council: "You carry the fates of us all little one," he said, "but if this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor shall see it done."

"Hey! Don't forget about us!" came a chorus of two voices and two more hobbits, that I had seen come with the Frodo and Sam, scurried out of their hiding place. "There is no way we will not be going," stated one, who had curly pepper hair.

"Yes, Master Elrond will have to clap us in chains and put us in a bag to stop us," said the other, who had blonde hair.

"He might just do that," I laughed, "but who knows what part you will play in this quest if you do come along. I for one am of the opinion: the more the merrier."

"Good one, Master Harold," said Bilbo, "I'll have to remember that for my book."

"Yes," said Elrond, "I happen to find a strange wisdom in that Harold, and you two will indeed be going along on this quest. Ten companions...you shall all be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great," said one of the hobbits with a smile, but it suddenly disappeared, "where are we going?"

*****

So it was that scouts were sent forth from Rivendell, in an effort to attain the whereabouts of the Riders and all the servants of the Enemy. A safe path for the Fellowship to travel had still to be decided, and there was much musing I did in the next two months on the coming quest. Of the perils and dangers we would face, both from the Enemy and from nature. The journey to Mordor would be long and arduous. For a while I considered taking the Ring and apparating directly into Mordor, surely it would make things easier. But with the One Ring now fully reawaken it would surely take me the instant I touched it. Not to mention the wisdom of Albus: "To choose what is easy and what is right, are very different things. The former is that path to darkness while the latter is the light."

The thing that worried me greatly was my beloved's reaction to me going on this quest. It would surely be the most perilous one I had ever undertaken. Her response heartened me greatly and made me thankful that I had such a precious companion, in whom I had vested my love and my life.

"Long ago, you swore to do this Thuardacil," she said stepping forward to embrace me in the shadow of a private grove in the nearby forest, her delicate hands traced the lines of my face and even my scar; it was the most intimate of gestures between us. "I knew it when I agreed to marry you, and I accepted it then. You will go on this quest, with my love and blessing, it will give you the power you need to come back to me. I will await you in the Grey Havens." With that we kissed and expressed our love anew with no words needed between us. We made love right there in the grove. I was filled with a power that made the dark seem like a pathetic mockery of a shadow. At that moment, I knew we would be never be separated, not in death nor in life.

*****

I also tackled another task during the two months before the scouts were scheduled to return. I took all four hobbits that would be going, and gave them intensive weapons training, especially with a bow. The sword was not a weapon in actuality that would be useful for a hobbit, except for very close quarters fighting where they were to use it as a last ditch defensive measure. I had the elf smithy make bows and a quiver of arrows for each of them; they already had swords, given to them by Aragorn on their flight from Weathertop.

As December was passing, and the scouts that had ventured to the springs of Hoarwell into the Ettenmoors returned, I had all four hobbits at least proficient with their bows and swords to a degree where they could defend themselves adequately. It had been no small feat to train them; they were stubborn to a fault and did not even want to learn at first. I had rather quickly changed their minds.

"If you want to go on this quest and help Frodo, you will do as I say!" I glared at the Sam, Merry, and Pippin. "Otherwise, you will be dead weight and useless to the Fellowship. This is not some journey of leisure! We will be traveling alone, unaided, with the Enemy all around us, hunting us. You will pull your weight! If it means carrying supplies, hunting for food, or guarding each others backs during a fight, so be it! And if I see you three not doing so, I'll turn you into rabbits and let you be on your merry way, for all the good that you did!" All three hobbits gulped audibly and said that they would rather learn further.

At last all the scouts returned and in no region had they discovered any signs or tidings of the Riders or other servants of the Enemy. Even from the Eagles of the Misty Mountains they had learned no news. Nothing had been seen or heard of Gollum; but the wild wolves were still gathering, and were hunting again far up the Great River. Three of the Riders black horses had been found at once drowned in the flooded Ford. Of the Black Riders no other trace was to be seen, and nowhere was there presence to be felt. It seemed they had vanished from the North.

"Eight out of the Nine are accounted for at least," said Gandalf. "It is rash to be too sure, yet I think we may hope that the Ringwraiths were scattered, and have been obliged as best they could to their master in Mordor, empty and shapeless."

"If that is so," I replied, "then it will be quite a while before they can begin to hunt again. But the Enemy has other servants, but they will have to journey all the way to the borders of Rivendell to pick up our trail. And if we are careful that will be hard to find. But we must delay no longer."

The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and the rayed Sun, and about them was written many runes; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor. Very bright was that sword when it was remade; the light of the sun shone red in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and call it Anduril, Flame of the West.

Aragorn, Gandalf and I walked together or sat speaking of our road and the perils we would meet; and we pondered the maps and books of lore that were in the house of Elrond, or rather Aragorn and Gandalf did, as the books in the library were well known to me, I wonder often if I had read them all.

It was a cold grey day near the end of December. The East Wind was streaming through the bare branches of the trees, and seething in the dark pines on the hills. Ragged clouds were hurrying overhead, dark and low. As the cheerless shadows of the early evening began to fall the Company made ready to set out. We were to start at dusk, as Elrond counseled them to journey under cover of night as often as they could, until we were far from Rivendell.

The Company took little gear of war, for our hope was in secrecy not in battle. Aragorn had Anduril and a bow, but no other weapon; he went forth clad only in rusty green and brown, as a Ranger in the wilderness. Boromir had a long sword; he bore also a shield and a war-horn. I clad myself in my black wizard robes, with a backpack, Orthorum hung in its scabbard on my left side, while my enchanted bow and quiver was shrunk and placed in a side pocket of the pack. My wand was in its holster, strapped on my left arm, and I walked forth with my staff in my right hand.

Gimli the dwarf alone wore openly a short shirt of steel rings, for dwarves make light of burdens; and in his belt was a broad bladed axe. Legolas had a bow and a quiver, and at his belt a long white knife. The younger hobbits carried bows and swords. Gandalf bore his staff, but at his side was the elven-sword Glamdring, the sister sword of Oscrist that lay now upon the breast of Thorin under the Lonely Mountain.

We were all well furnished by my adoptive father, with thick warm clothes, and they had jackets and cloaks lined with fur. Spare food and clothes and blankets and other needs were laden on a pony, none other than the poor beast that they brought from Bree, and Sam named it Bill.

Their farewells had been said in the great hall by the fire, and they were only now waiting for Gandalf, who had not yet come out of the house. Soon Elrond came out with Gandalf, and he called the Company to him.

"This is my last word," said Elrond in a low voice, "the Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Fellowship and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, turn aside into other paths as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy it will be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For most of you do not know the strengths of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road."

"Faithless is he that say farewell when the road darkens," said Gimli.

"Maybe," said Elrond, "but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall."

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking hearts," said Gimli.

"Or break it," said Elrond, "look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessing of the Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

Many others of Elrond's household stood in the shadows and watched us go, bidding us farewell with soft voices. There was no laughter and no song or music. As I walked, I kept my gaze locked with Enebaiel as she stood silently with the others. Her countenance spoke volumes to me. I placed a kiss on my fingers and gestured with them to her. Reluctantly I turned away and faded silently into the dusk.

We crossed the bridge and wound slowly up the long steep paths that led out of the cloven vale of Rivendell; and we came at length to the high moor where the wind hissed through the heather. Then with one glance at the Last Homely House twinkling below us we strode away far into the night.

13 January, Year 3019 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

It was evening, and the grey light was again waning fast, when we halted for the night. We were all very tired. The mountains were veiled in deepening dusk, and the wind was cold. Gandalf allowed us to drink one mouthful each of the miruvor of Rivendell, it is the closest thing the elves have to Pepper-Up Potion. We all ate some food and then he called a council.

"We cannot go on again tonight," said Gandalf, "the attack on the Redhorn Gate has tired us out, and we must rest here for a while."

"Where do we go then?" asked Frodo.

"We still have our journey and errand before us," answered Gandalf, "we have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell."

"Something we will not be doing," I said insistently, "to retreat in the face of evil is one thing, to retreat because of a heavy blizzard is another."

"I wish I was back there," said Frodo, "but like Master Harold said; how can I return without shame - unless there is no other way, and we are already defeated?"

"You are right Frodo," said Gandalf: "to go back is to admit defeat, and face worse defeat to come. If we go back now, then the Ring must remain in Rivendell: we shall not be able to set out again. Sooner or later Rivendell will be besieged, and after a brief and bitter time, destroyed."

"Then we must go on, if there is a way," said Frodo with a sigh. Sam sank back with a gloomy expression, but immediately wiped it off when he saw that I was watching him.

"There is a way that we may attempt," said Gandalf, "the road I speak of leads to the Mines of Moria, but Aragorn and Harold was against it, until the pass over the mountains had at least been tried." I had long dreaded the likely fact that we would have to go through the mines, for the past two months.

"The road may lead to Moria, but how can we hope that it will lead through Moria?" asked Aragorn.

"It is a name of ill omen," said Boromir. "Nor do I see the need to go through there, let us journey south, until we come to the Gap of Rohan, where men are friendly to my people, taking the road that I followed on my way here."

"We will venture too close to Isengard," I objected, "Saruman desires the Ring, and while I would welcome the chance to confront him, we cannot risk the Ring coming near him. The Gap of Rohan is closed to us while we travel with the Ring Bearer."

The debate continued on for a while and I kept little mind to it, as I knew the path we would travel already, until Gandalf addressed me directly.

"Harold, could you not enchant a traveling device to get us to the other side of the Misty Mountains?" he asked.

"I have given long thought about that," I answered, "while it would be no problem to allow ten people to travel by such magical means, I fear that the Ring would not take kindly to that. Who knows what interference the Ring would contrive with the magic involved? It could end up scattering us all over Middle-Earth."

Finally Frodo said: "I do not wish to go, but neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. I beg that there should be no vote until we have slept on it. Gandalf will get votes easier in the light of the morning than in this cold gloom. How the wind howls!"

I heard the wind hissing among the rocks and trees, and there was a howling and wailing round them in empty spaces of the night. Suddenly Aragorn leapt to his feet.

"How the wind howls!" he cried. "It is howling with wolf-voices. The Wargs have come west of the Mountains!"

"We cannot wait until morning then," I said standing up, "even if we live to see the dawn who will wish to journey south by night with the wild wolves on his trail?"

"How far is Moria?" asked Boromir.

"There is a door south-west of Caradhras, some fifteen miles as the crow flies," answered Gandalf grimly.

For their defense in the night the Company climbed to the top of the small hill under which we had been sheltering. It was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a broken circle of boulders. In the midst of this they lit a fire, for there was no hope that darkness and silence would keep their trail from discovery by the hunting packs.

Round the fire the rest of the Company sat, and those that were not on guard dozed uneasily. I was one of those watching for wolves, I had my eyes imbued to pierce the veil of night and could see as clearly as if it was day. The howling of wolves was all around us, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off. I could see the wolves peering over the brow of the hill. Some advanced almost to the ring of stones. It was then that I got tired of playing possum. I brandished my bow and sent five arrows searing out into the night, five yelps of pain and death were heard in succession.

A final wolf snarled and sprang toward us in a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp twang. Legolas had loosed his bow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to the ground; the elvish arrow had pierced its throat.

I saw the hunting packs fleeing and all about us the darkness grew quiet, and no cry came on the sighing wind. Soon Legolas and Aragorn came hauling back all the killed wolves.

"Had I not seen these, I would have thought you sent those arrows on a fool's errand Harold the Black," said Legolas with awe in his eyes.

"The night is not a veil to my vision," I replied and stashed my bow away.

****

The night was old, and westward the waning moon was setting, gleaming fitfully through the breaking clouds. My eyes widened at what I was seeing, though none of my comrades could.

"To Arms! We are being attacked from all sides!" I shouted and raised my staff. A storm of howls broke out fierce and wild all about the camp. Wargs were attacking from every side at once.

"Draw your blades and stand back to back!" shouted Gandalf. Many wargs were jumping over the ring of stones.

"Avada Kedavra!" I growled with a voice of steel and slashing motion of my staff. Green light poured forth with a rush and felled four wolves lifeless. Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust through the throat of a huge wolf, Boromir hewed off the head of another. Gimli's axe rose and fell, the bow of Legolas was singing. Gandalf decided to make use of some Istari magic.

"Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan I ngaurhoth!" he cried. There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a leaf and bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt from the tree-top to tree-top. The whole hill was crowned with dazzling light. I raised my staff.

"Caterus Constringo Fulmen!" I cried and lighting shot forth from the above me and felled a great many wolves. The swords and knives of the company shone and flickered. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in the air as it flew, and plunged burning into the heart of a great wolf-chieftain. All the others fled.

*****

A whole day had passed since the attack of the wolves and as night fell again we reached the walls of Moria. But now we had to find the doors of Moria which was easier said than done. Gandalf was standing between two trees gazing at the wall of the cliff, as if he would bore a hole into it with his eyes. Gimli was wandering about tapping the stone with his axe. Legolas was pressed against the rock, as if listening.

"Well, we are all here and ready," said Merry, "but where the Doors? I can't see any sign of them."

"Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut," said Gimli. "They are invisible, and their own masters cannot open them or find them, if their secret is forgotten."

My long history with the dwarves non-withstanding, I knew a few of their tricks, I walked forward to a rather flat part of the wall between the two trees, where Gandalf was standing, muttering to himself.

"Lunae Lumen," I incanted and pure moonlight shone forth like a beacon from my staff. "Can you see anything now?"

On the smooth grey face of the rock, white lines started to shine, and soon their designs became clear. At the top, was an arch of interlacing letters in an Elvish character. Below, though the threads were in places blurred or broken, the outline could be seen of an anvil and a hammer surmounted by a crown with seven stars. Beneath these were two trees, each bearing crescent moons. More clearly than all else there shone forth in the middle of the door a single star with many rays. They were emblems of Durin, the High Elves and Feanor.

"This is wrought of ithildin that mirrors only starlight and moonlight," I said.

"What does the writing say?" asked Frodo.

"Nothing of importance to us," said Gandalf, "They say only: The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. And underneath small and faint is written: I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs."

"What does it mean by speak, friend, and enter?" asked Merry.

"That is plain enough," said Gimli, "if you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open, and you can enter."

"Yes," said Gandalf, "these doors are governed by words. These doors have no key. In the days of Durin they were not secret. They usually stood open and doorwards sat here. But if they were shut, any who knew the opening word would speak it and pass in."

"But do you know the word Gandalf?" asked Boromir.

"No!" said the wizard. The others looked dismayed; only Aragorn and I remained silent and unmoved. For a while I stared at the words of the door, and my mind recalled ages ago when I was a youth and was faced with the challenges of the Tri-Wizard Tournament; the riddle of the sphinx. It occurred to me that the Durin would welcome all into Moria who was a friend, and not all of them could have had the password. So it had to be something that could be reasoned out, Logic. I looked at the inscription of the doors and started to laugh.

"Please, Harold," said Gandalf, "if you have nothing to contribute beside a jest of laughter please remain silent."

"Oh but I have something to contribute," I replied sniggering, "in my youth I knew a Witch called Hermoine the Raven. She is a dear friend of mine and were she here, she would bop us all over the head for thinking so plainly. I daresay she would have this problem solved in a heartbeat, by merely saying the word Mellon."

Silently a great doorway was outlined, though not a crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly it divided in the middle and swung outwards inch by inch, until both doors lay back against the wall. Through the opening a shadowy stair could be seen climbing steeply up; beyond the lower steps the darkness was deeper than the night. The Company stared in wonder.

"I was wrong after all," said Gandalf, "the opening word was inscribed on the archway all the time! Harold the Black, you could have spoken much sooner. Quite simple this puzzle is in retrospect, as all puzzles are. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Now let us go!"

Gandalf strode forward and set his foot on the lowest step, I was right behind him. But at that moment several things happened. I heard Frodo falling with a cry. Sam leaped after Frodo, cursing and weeping. The others swung round and saw the waters of the lake near the door seething, as if a great host of snakes were swimming up from the other end.

Out from the water a long sinuous tentacle had crawled; it was pale green and luminous and wet. Its fingered end had hold of Frodo's foot, and was dragging him into the water. Sam was on his knees and slashing at with a knife. The arm let go of Frodo, and Sam pulled him away, crying out for help. Twenty other arms came rippling out. The dark water boiled and there was a hideous stench.

"Into the gateway! Up the stairs! Quick!" shouted Gandalf. It roused the rest of the company from the horror that seemed to have rooted all but Sam and me to the ground where they stood. For good measure I threw a summoning spell on the entire company that caused them to slide through the air and land them at the base of the stairs.

They were just in time. Sam and Frodo were a few steps up, and Gandalf and I had just begun to climb, when the groping tentacles writhed across the narrow shore and fingered the cliff-wall and the doors. Many coiling arms seized the doors on either side, and with horrible strength, swung them round. With a shattering echo they slammed, and all light was lost. A noise of crashing stone reached my ears.

*****

It was after nightfall when we had entered the Mines. Light from both my and Gandalf's staffs served to lead us on our way. We had been going for several hours with only brief halts, when Gandalf, as our guide, was given his first serious test. I had never been in Moria, and only Gandalf had once ventured into it from the East. The Fellowship was entering from the West and it was proving quite a problem to navigate, even with Gimli helping.

Before us stood a wide dark arch opening into three passages: all led in the same general direction, eastwards; but the left hand passage plunged down, while the right hand climbed up, and the middle way seemed to run on, smooth and level but very narrow.

"I have no memory of this place at all!" said Gandalf, standing uncertainly under the arch.

"Are there no markings on the passages?" I asked with frustration.

"None," answered Gandalf, shining his staff along the edges of the passages. "I am too weary to decide," he said shaking his head. "And I expect you are all as weary as I am, or wearier. Outside the late Moon is riding westward and the midnight has passed."

To the left of the great arch they found a stone door: it was half closed, but swung back easily to a gentle thrust. Beyond there seemed to lie a wide chamber cut in the rock.

"Stop!" I cried urgently as Merry and Pippin pushed forward; glad to find a place where they could rest with at least more feeling of shelter than the open passage. "You do not know what is inside yet. I'll go first." I went in cautiously, and the others filed behind, I flared my staff brighter. "There," I said pointing with my staff to the middle of the floor. Before my feet was a large round hole like the mouth of a well. Broken and rusty chains lay at the edge and trailed down into the black pit. Fragments of stone lay near.

"One of you might have fallen in and still be wondering when you were going to hit the bottom," said Aragorn to Merry.

"This seems to be a guardroom, made for watching the three passages," said Gimli. "That hole was plainly a well for the guards' use, covered with a stone lid. But it is broken; we must all take care in the dark."

I walked around the room, curiously studying the rusted weapons and debris lying around for anything amiss, useful or interest. Then I heard a sharp plank, very distant, but magnified and repeated in the hollow shaft. I whirled around, my staff flaring even brighter to see what happened.

"What's that?" cried Gandalf. Pippin reluctantly confessed that he had thrown a stone down the well. Gandalf looked relieved as I felt, but I was incredibly angry at the foolish hobbit. "Fool of a Took!" growled Gandalf. "This is a serious journey, not a hobbit walking party. Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance. Now be quiet!"

Nothing more was heard for several minutes; but then came out of the depths faint knocks. They sounded like signals of some sort; but after a while it died away and was not heard again.

"That was the sound of a hammer, or I have never heard one," said Gimli.

"Yes," said Gandalf, "and I do not like it. It may have nothing to do with Peregrin's foolish stone; probably something has been disturbed that would have better left quiet. You, Pippin, can go on the first watch as reward."

When everyone was rolled in their blankets and in sleep, I turned over and noticed that Gandalf was not asleep at all.

"Gandalf," I whispered.

"Yes, my friend," said the grey wizard.

"Those knocks, I have heard them before," I said with worry evident in my voice.

"Where?"

"The sound is identical to Troll drums, I heard them long ago when I helped a dwarf haven stave off attacks by orcs," I said. With nothing more to say, I turned back around and fell asleep.

****

It was Gandalf who roused me from sleep. He had sat and watched all alone for six hours and let the others rest. He had finally chosen the right hand way, which led up, as he deemed it was time that they headed up again. For eight dark hours, we marched on; and met no danger, and heard nothing, and saw nothing save for the light's coming from our staffs. The passage was winding steadily upwards.

*****

We had marched as far as the hobbits could endure without a rest, when suddenly the walls to the right and left vanished. We seemed to have passed through some arched doorway into a black and empty space. We halted and crowded anxiously together.

"I chose the right way," said Gandalf with a smile, "we have come to the habitable parts, and we are not far now from the eastern side. But we are high up, much higher than the Dimrill Gate. From the feeling in the air we must be in a wide hall. Harold, let us risk a little real light." I nodded and we both raised out staffs, for a brief instant there was a blaze like a flash of lightning. Shadows sprang up and fled, and for a second I saw a vast roof far above upheld by many mighty pillars; its black walls, polished and smooth as glass, flashed and glittered. I lowered my staff and dimmed the light.

Gandalf decided to call a halt here and settle down for sleep.

******

Morning arrived, and after we all had breakfast Gandalf decided to go on at once.

"Which way shall we take?" asked Boromir.

"I guess that we are above and to the north of the Great Gates; and it may not be easy to find the road down to them. The eastern arch will probably prove the one we should take; but we must get our bearings first. Let us go towards that light in the north door. If we could find a window it would help," said Gandalf.

The Fellowship passed under the northern arch. We found ourselves in a wide corridor. As we went along it the glimmer grew stronger, and they saw that it came through a doorway on their right. It was high and flat-topped, and the stone door was still upon its hinges, standing half open. Beyond it was a square chamber. It was dimly lit, but our eyes, after so long in the dark, it seemed dazzlingly bright, and I had to squint as we entered.

Their feet disturbed a deep dust upon the floor, and stumbled among things lying in the doorway whose shapes they could not at first make out. The light fell directly on a table in the middle of the room: a single oblong block, about two feet high, upon which was laid a great slab of white stone.

"It looks like a tomb," muttered Frodo. I walked over and read the inscription on the block for all the Fellowship to hear.

"These are Daeron's Runes, they were used long ago in Moria," I said, "here is written in the common tongue: Balin, Son of Fundin. Lord of Moria."

"He is dead then," said Frodo. Gimli cast his hood over his face.

I stood silently beside the tomb of Balin. I have a great friendship and trust for dwarves, and it saddened me greatly that so many of them perished in this foolish attempt to retake Moria. At length I shook myself out of my musings and brushed a tear away from my eye. By both the doors I could see that many bones were lying around us, among them broken swords and axe heads, and cloven shields and helms. Some of the swords were crooked: orc-scimitars with blackened blades.

Next to a recess in the wall I found the remains of a book. It had been slashed and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and other marks that little could be read of it. I lifted it carefully, but the pages crackled as I laid it on the slab. I studied for some time trying to make sense of the illegible script, and then gingerly began to turn the pages.

"What is it Harold?" asked Gandalf.

"It's a record of Balin's people, it begins with their coming thirty years ago: the pages have numbers referring to the years after their arrival. The top page is marked one-three so at least two are missing from the beginning. This is all I can read:

We drove the orcs from the great gate and guard - we slew many in the night - sun in dale. Floi was killed by an arrow. He slew the great. - Floi under grass near Mirrormere. - We have taken the twenty-first hall of North end to dwell in. There is - shaft - Balin has set up his seat in the Chamber of Mazarbul.

"The Chamber of Records," said Gimli, "I guess that is where we now stand."

"The rest is extremely hard to read in this light," I said, paging over a few times and skipped pages that were totally ruined. "Ah, here we go:

day being tenth of novembre Balin lord of Moria fell in Dimrill Dale. He went alone to look in Mirrormere. An orc shot him from behind a stone. We slew the orc, but many more...up from east up the Silverlode.

"The remainder of the page is so blurred I can hardly make anything out," I muttered deep in thought. "But I can read:

we have barred the gates...can hold them long if...horrible...suffer...

"Poor Balin!" said Gandalf. "He held his title for less than five years."

"It continues on to grim reading," I said gravely, "here is the last page of all:

We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the bridge and the second hall...5 days ago...The pool is up to the wall at Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Oin. We cannot get out. The end comes...drums in the deep...they are coming.

"It was well for us that the pool had sunk a little," said Gimli, "and that the watcher was sleeping down at the southern end."

"So ended the attempt to retake Moria," said Gandalf. "It was valiant but foolish. We must say farewell to Balin. Here he must lay in the halls of his fathers. We will take the Book of Mazarbul, and look at it closely later. You had better keep it, Gimli, and take it back to Dain, if you get the chance. Come let us go! The morning is passing."

"Which way shall we go?" asked Boromir.

"Back to the hall," answered Gandalf, "this must be the Chamber of Mazarbul; and the ahll must be the twenty-first of the North end. We should leave by the eastern arch of the hall, and bear righ and south, and go downwards. The hall should be on the seventh level, six above the Gates. Back to the Hall!"

I turned to follow and there came a great noise: a rolling Boom that seemed to come from the depths far below, to tremble the stone at my feet. Everyone rushed to the exit, but Boromir, who was first out, retreated back into the room. There came a great horn call that echoed through the hall, and the sound of rushing feet. We all retreated back into the room, as Aragorn and Boromir closed the flimsy doors, and rested their bodies against it. Legolas threw all a manner of discarded staffs and weapons that the Men used to bar the doors with.

"They are coming!" cried Legolas.

"We cannot get out!" said Gimli.

"Trapped!" cried Gandalf. "Why did I delay? Here we are, caught, just as they were."

"Slam the doors and wedge them!" shouted Aragorn. "Keep you packs on: we may be able to cut out our way yet."

"No!" I shouted. "We must not get shut in! Keep the east door free! We will go that way if we get a chance."

"They have a Cave Troll and numerous other black Orcs out there," gasped Boromir as they retreated away from the wedged door to the other side of the chamber.

"We cannot retreat with the enemy at our heels out the east door, a stair leads down trough there," said Aragorn, "we must make some sort of stand and delay them."

All the Company drew sword and bow. I drew Orthorum from its scabbard and it filled the chamber with a blue gleam as it hungered at the presence of Orcs. There was a blow on the door that made it quiver, it cracked and was pushed partly inward. Another final blow burst it off its hinges and the wedges flew away. A huge arm and shoulder, with greenish scales, was trust through the widening gap and great toeless foot was forced through below.

I rushed forward in desperation and making sure nobody from the company was in my way, threw a Killing Curse at the Cave Troll. It fell forward, dead. Then there was a horn blast and a rush of feet, and orcs one after the other leaped into the chamber. How many there were I could begin to count; the orcs were clearly dismayed at how well we were defending. I helped especially that the hobbits were acquitting themselves well; all four Halflings were basically sheltering behind our melee defense, whilst they killed any orc they could lay a mark on with their bows.

Legolas shot two in quick succession through the throat. Gimli hewed the legs from under another that had sprung up on Balin's tomb. Boromir and Aragorn slew many. The blue glow of Orthorum pulsed in my hand as I neatly beheaded an orc with no effort, and in the same motion hewed another across the chest; for all the good wearing armor did, the orcs might as well have not worn theirs at all, for the good it did them. Orthorum without fail sheared through the armor, whether it was plated steel, hard leather it did not matter. Soon the orcs fled shrieking, leaving us unharmed, except for Sam who had a scratch along his scalp.

"Now is the time!" cried Gandalf. "Let us go, before another troll comes forth!"

But even as they retreated, and before Pippin and Merry had reached the stair outside, a huge orc-chieftain, almost man-high, clad in black mail from head to foot, leaped into the chamber; behind him his followers clustered in the doorway. With a thrust of his huge shield he turned Boromir's sword and shoved him backwards, throwing him to the ground. Diving under Aragorn's blow with the speed of a striking snake he charged into the Company and thrust with his spear straight at Frodo.

"IMPEDIMENTA!" I bellowed with anger. The spell which would have normally just blasted something out of the way of the caster; had it been cast by any other wizard, erupted forth from my staff like a searchlight and struck the orc-chieftain; freezing him in mid-air, his spear a mere ten inches from skewering Frodo. I twirled Orthorum expertly and decapitated the chieftain. His followers fled howling, as Boromir and Aragorn sprang at them. The drums in the deep resounded again.

"Now!" shouted Gandalf. "Now is the last chance. Run for it!"

The Company streamed through the eastern door, and Boromir hauled it closed; it had great iron rings on either side, but could not be fastened.

"Off you go, all of you, down the stairs! Wait a few moments for me at the bottom, but if I do not come soon, go on! Go quickly and choose paths leading right and downwards," said Gandalf.

"We cannot leave you to hold the door alone!" said Aragorn.

"Do as I say!" said Gandalf fiercely. "Swords are no use here. Go!" The Ranger obeyed reluctantly and headed after the company. I paused for a moment.

"You want me to lead them if you should not return?" I asked gravely. I knew that Gandalf was doing only what he thought necessary, and I respected that and would heed his request, but I had to know the answer.

"Yes, Harold," nodded Gandalf.

"Good luck my friend," I said and ran down the stairs lighting my staff. When I finally caught up with the Company, they seemed to welcome the light again and even sigh with relief as I rejoined them in their flight. The walls seemed to be trembling. Every now and again the drum-beats throbbed and rolled.

Suddenly at the top of the stair I saw a stab of white light. Then there was a dull rumble and a heavy thud. The drum beats broke on wildly and then stopped. Gandalf came flying down the steps and fell to the ground in the midst of the Company.

"Well, well! That's over!" said the wizard, whom I helped to his feet. "I have done all that I could. But I have met my match, and have nearly been destroyed. But don't stand here! Go on! You will have to do with Harold's light from now on; I am rather shaken. He will lead. Go!"

They stumbled after me as I led, Gimli was next to me. The drum beats came again, but they sounded muffled and far away, but they were following. There was no other sound of pursuit. I took no turns, right or left, for the passage seemed to be going in the direction that I surmised the Gate to be, from the many hints Gandalf told me. Every now and again the passage descended in a flight of stairs, fifty or more to a lower level.

At the end of an hour they had gone a mile. There was still no sound of pursuit. I almost began to hope that we would escape. At the bottom of the seventh flight, Gandalf called a halt from the back.

"It is getting hot!" he gasped, "we ought to be down at least to the level of the Gate now. We should now look for a left hand turn to take us east. I hope it is not far. I am very weary. I must rest here a moment, even if all the orcs ever spawned are after us."

I rushed forward and took the grey wizard's arm and helped him to a seat on the step. "What happened away up there at the door?" I asked as I pulled out my wand from my sleeve and started to wave a few medical charms over the battered wizard, healing the cuts on his face and so forth. I noticed with alarm that his magical strength was very weak and that had a few broken ribs.

"I do not know," answered Gandalf, "but I found myself suddenly faced by something I had not met before. I could think of nothing to do but to try and put a shutting spell on the door. But to do a proper one takes time, and even then the door can be broken by strength."

"As I stood there I could hear orc-voices on the other side: at any moment I thought they would burst it open. I could not hear what was said; they seemed to be talking in their own hideous language. All I caught was ghash: fire. Then something came into the chamber - I felt it through the door, and the orcs themselves were afraid and fell silent. It laid hold of the iron ring, and then it perceived me and my spell."

"What it was I cannot guess, but I have never felt such a challenge. The counter-spell was terrible. It nearly broke me. For an instant the door left my control and began to open! I had to speak a word of Command. That proved too great a strain. The door burst to pieces. Something dark as a cloud was blocking out all the light inside, and I was thrown backwards down the stairs. The wall gave way and the roof of the chamber as well, I think."

"I am afraid Balin is buried deep, and maybe something else is buried there too. But at least the passage behind us was completely blocked. I have never felt so spent!"

I pulled out a Restoration Potion out of my pack that I had bottled; its color was a deep luminescent sapphire and it was partially crystallized but a quick stirring spell from my wand solved that problem. I handed it to Gandalf and he drunk whole vial down.

"It should work in a moment," I muttered with concern in my voice.

Gandalf regarded the empty vial: "Truly an amazing art; makes me wish I had learnt it properly."

"My mentor of Magical Substances in my youth did not inspire me to the art, and it requires a certain type of mind to truly know and accomplish anything," I said with a smirk.

"That it does," affirmed Gandalf and with a sigh he said: "my weakness is passing. Strength returns."

****

We now went on again. Before long Gimli spoke as he had keen eyes in the dark.

"I think," he said, "that there is light ahead. But it is red. What can it be?" I looked forward and imbued my eyes with magic to allow me farsight, I heard Sam gasp beside me and he was starring in horror at my eyes, my mouth quirked in amusement, for I knew that when I did this my eyes glow with a bright green light like those of a Dire Wolf.

"It is fire," I said. Soon it was unmistakable to everyone. It was flickering and glowing on the walls away down the passage before them. We could now see our way and I dimmed my staff: in front the road sloped down, and some way ahead there stood a low archway; through it the growing light came. The air became very hot. When we came to the arch Gandalf went through, signing to us to wait. Quickly he stepped back.

"I know where we are: we have reached the First Deep, the level immediately below the gates. This is the Second Hall of Old Moria; and the Gates are near: beyond the eastern end, on the left, not more than a quarter of a mile. Across the Bridge, up a broad stair, along a wide road, through the First Hall an out," explained Gandalf.

They peered out. Before them was another cavernous hall. It was higher and far longer than the one in which they had slept. They were near its eastern end; westward it ran away into darkness. Down the centre stalked a double line of towering pillars. Right across the floor, close to the feet of two huge pillars a great fissure had opened. Out of it a fierce red light came, and now and again flames licked at the brink and curled about the bases of the columns. Again they heard the pursuing drum beat. In the shadows of the western end of the hall there came cries and horn calls. The pillars seemed to tremble and flames quivered.

"Now for the last race!" said Gandalf. "If the sun is shining outside, we may still escape. After me!" He turned left and sped across the smooth floor of the hall. I followed closed behind with the rest of the Company in my wake. The distance was greater than it had looked. As we ran I heard the beat and echo of many hurrying feet behind. A shrill yell went up: we had been spotted. I saw an arrow whistle over Frodo's head.

Boromir laughed. "They did not expect this," he said. "The fire has cut them off. We are on the wrong side!"

"Look ahead!" called Gandalf. "The Bridge is near. It is dangerous and narrow."

I saw now before me a black chasm. At the end of the hall the floor vanished and fell to unknown depth. The outer door could only be reached by a slender bridge of stone, without a rail, that spanned the chasm with one curving spring of fifty feet. It was an ancient defense of the Dwarves against any enemy that might capture the First Hall and the outer passages. They could only pass across it in single file. At the brink Gandalf and I halted and the others came up in a pack behind.

"Lead the way Gimli!" said Gandalf. "Pippin and Merry next, straight on, and up the stair beyond the door!"

Arrows started to fall among them. One struck Frodo and sprang back. Another pierced Gandalf's hat and stuck there like a black feather. I raised my staff and started throwing hexes in the air that impeded the arrows path or even sent them back to the offending archers to impale them with their own arrow.

I looked behind. Beyond the fire I saw swarming black figures: there seemed to be hundreds of orcs. They brandished spears and scimitars which shone red as blood in the firelight. The drum beats rolled louder. Legolas turned and set and arrow to the string. He drew, but his hand fell, and the arrow slipped to the ground. He gave a cry of dismay and fear. Two great trolls appeared; they bore great slabs of stone, and flung them down to serve as gangways over the fire. But it was not trolls that had filled the Elf with terror. The ranks of orcs opened, and they crowded away, as if they themselves were afraid. Something was coming up behind them.

What it was I could not see: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which a dark form was, it maybe bore the shape of a man, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it. It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had been over it. Then with a rush it leapt across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. It's streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. It its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs.

"Ai! Ai!" wailed Legolas. "A Balrog is come!"

Gimli stared with wide eyes. "Durin's Bane!" he cried.

"A Balrog," muttered Gandalf, "now I understand. What an evil fortune! And I am weary."

The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled and poured over the stone gangways.

"Over the bridge!" cried Gandalf, recalling his strength, "fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly!" The Company poured over the bridge. Aragorn, Boromir and I halted on the far side of the bridge while the rest of the Fellowship paused on the threshold of the doorway at the hall's end, and turned, unable to leave their leader to face the enemy alone.

"Gandalf do you have a plan?" I screamed at him as he stood in the middle of the bridge.

"To defend the bridge and as a last resort, destroy it, so it cannot cross!" he replied. My lips narrowed into a thin line grimly as I saw the peril of it. A Balrog is a demon of the ancient world; very few alive today could compete with it.

The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf stood in the middle of the span, leaning on his staff in his left hand, but in his other hand, his sword, Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised its whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm.

"You cannot pass," he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to Shadow! You cannot pass!"

The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on to the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom. I decided then to let Gandalf fight this on his own, and only should he be in dire mortal peril, intervene. If I was to start battling the Balrog now it would distract the grey wizard. I could not know if my spells of destruction would even affect the Balrog.

The Balrog's red sword leaped flaming.

Glamdring glittered white in answer.

There was a great clash and a stab of white fire. The Balrog fell back and its sword flew up in molten fragments. The wizard swayed on the bridge, stepped back a pace, and stood still.

"You cannot pass!"

With a bound the Balrog leaped full upon the bridge. Its whip whirled and hissed.

"He cannot stand alone!" cried Aragorn suddenly, he and Boromir started to run back along the bridge. I set a Freezing Spell on them both and they halted an inch before the threshold.

"He does not stand alone, we are behind him! You will only distract him! Your sword will not avail against that foe!" I screamed at Aragorn and levitated them back away from the bridge and set them to rest behind me.

At that moment Gandalf lifted his staff, and crying aloud he smote the bridge before him. A blinding sheet of white flame sprang up. The bridge cracked. Right at the Balrog's feet it broke, and the stone upon which it stood crashed into the chasm, while the rest remained poised, like a tongue of rock thrust out into the emptiness.

With a terrible cry the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. I initially breathed a sigh of relief but dread filled me as the demon swung its whip even as it fell, and the thongs lashed and curled about the wizard's knees, dragging him to the brink.

"NO!" I screamed in terror and did the only thing I could think of. I cast a Cutting Spell as best as I could guess where the whip led down into the darkness where it was still grasped in the Balrog's hand. But my aim was poor, and the spell did no more than give a glancing blow the gleaming whip.

Gandalf staggered and fell, grasping vainly at the stone and slid into the abyss.

"Fly you fools!" he cried, and was gone.

The fires went out, and blank darkness fell. The rest of the Company stood rooted with horror staring into the pit. I became aware of tears streaming down my face as I dispelled Aragorn and Boromir. The rest of the bridge cracked and fell. With a cry I roused them.

"Come! I will lead you now!" I called. "We must obey his last command. Follow me!"

I hurried forward lighting my staff again and the rest of the Fellowship stumbled wildly up the great stairs beyond the door. Aragorn was behind me with Boromir at the rear. At the top was a wide echoing passage. Along this we fled. I heard that Sam was weeping, and I was in hardly better emotional shape.

We ran on. The light grew before us; great shafts pierced the roof. We ran swifter. We passed into a hall, bright with daylight from its high windows in the east. We fled across it. Through its huge broken doors we passed, and suddenly before them the Great Gates opened, an arch of blazing light that stung my eyes. But it was the most welcome and beautiful light I had ever felt in my long life. There was a guard of orcs crouching the shadows behind the great door posts towering on either side, but the gates were shattered and cast down.

I smote to the ground the captain that stood in our path, and the rest fled in terror of our wrath. We swept past them and took no further heed of them. Then at last, we came beyond hope under the sky and felt the wind on our faces. We did not halt until we were out of bowshot of the walls. Dimrill Dale lay about us. The shadow of the Misty Mountains lay upon it, but eastwards there was a golden light on the land. It was but one hour after noon. The sun was shining; the clouds were white and high.

I looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the mountain-shadow.

Grief at last overcame me and I crumbled to the ground and wept.

The drum beats faded.