Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Chapter Six - In the Halls of the Mountain King

by Technomad

After Hermione had read the inscription on the tomb, the company got very quiet. Harry could see that Gimli was grieving, and longed to comfort him, but he didn't dare---he didn't know if the dwarf would welcome or want his condolences on the death of his friends. In Britain, he'd have known what to do, but here he felt at sea among strange peoples with strange, unaccountable customs. Ron and Hermione looked around themselves uneasily. Draco went over to the dust-covered objects they had noticed when they entered the chamber, and began investigating them.

"Hello, what's this?" The company turned to see what Draco had found. In among broken weapons---Harry noticed curved scimitars of crude make, as well as what looked to have been finely-crafted swords and daggers---and bones of a sort Harry wasn't familiar with. Draco was kneeling and holding up a battered book. Hermione, predictably, hurried to his side to see what he had found.

"Trust Hermione---she'd crawl naked over broken glass to get to a book," Ron murmured into Harry's ear. Harry grinned and waved his hand to hush his friend as Hermione brought the book back, setting it on Balin's grave-slab to get some light. As she opened the book, the pages crackled; they were apparently made of some stiffer material than plain paper. Hermione began paging through, with Gandalf looking over her shoulder.

"This looks like it's supposed to have been a record of the refounding of the dwarven kingdom here," said Hermione after a minute. "It's written in several different scripts---at least it's not in the dwarven language." Gimli came over to take a look, and Harry noticed that his cheeks were damp with tears.

"This part dates from the fifth year of the colony. It looks like it was written by Ori---he could write well, and used these characters often. Here, it says that Balin was shot by an orc while looking into Mirrormere. They killed the orc, but many others came up the Silverlode. Balin was buried in the Chamber of Mazarbul, or Records---which is where we now are." Gimli looked grim. "From this, it looks as though they were trapped in Moria after a while---the Watcher in the Water took Oin, since the water was clear up to the western gate. 'We cannot get out. We cannot get outÂ….The end comes. Drums, drums in the deep. They are comingÂ…'" and Gimli put the book down, his face grey and set.

"Take the book, Gimli. Give it to King Dain, when you get back to the Lonely Mountain. At least their kin will know what happened to them," murmured Hermione, gently patting the dwarf's shoulder. Gandalf nodded his approval of her actions as Gimli stowed the book in his pack.

"We're going back to the hall," said Gandalf. "I know now just where we are, thanks to that book. We go through the eastern door of the hall, go right and south, and downwards."

Just as those words were spoken, there was a huge booming noise. It seemed to shake the mountain itself, and they jumped for the door as it came again and again. Horn blasts and many feet tramping could be heard from the hall. "They're coming!" cried Legolas, his face white with fear.

"Here we are, trapped. We cannot get out, either!" snarled Gimli. Unslinging his axe, he tested the razor-keen edge with his horny thumb, nodding to himself.

"I wasn't here, then! Let me see what I can do!" snapped Gandalf. The Hogwarts students drew their wands, and Harry began thinking of all the offensive curses he knewÂ…why, why hadn't this task waited until he was at least in his seventh year? Apparently Draco knew the Unforgivable Curses, but most of the ones he knew himself were not that lethal. He looked at his classmates. Ron's face was pale under his shock of red hair, but his expression was determined; Hermione looked like anything that got in her way would live to regret it; Draco had an anticipatory smile twisting his face as he fingered his wand.

"Shut the doors, and wedge them!" shouted Aragorn, "Keep your packs on; we may be able to cut our way out yet!"

"No, leave the east door ajar; we may be able to slip out that way," said Gandalf, raising his staff. Another horn-call echoed through the hallways.

"Who comes here to disturb the rest of Balin lord of Moria?" cried Gandalf in a huge voice. The only answer was a shout of harsh, evil laughter. A deep voice called out commands Harry couldn't understand, and the great drum---drums in the deep, indeed---sounded yet again. Harry noticed in passing how dry his mouth was; he hadn't been this frightened since the Triwizard Tournament, facing Lord Voldemort in the cemetery at Little Hangleton.

There was a narrow gap in the door, and Gandalf thrust out his staff through it. A huge flash lit up the passageway outside, and left Harry blinking against the afterimage, as though he had been staring at a flashgun just as it went off. Gandalf drew back, looking worried. Arrows whined in through the gap, bouncing off the stone walls; Hermione cast a quick hex to make sure they missed everybody.

"Those are orcs---some of them are the Uruk-hai of Mordor, bigger and smarter than most orcs. I think there's also at least one troll. There's no way we're going to get out that way."

"If they come the other way, as well, we'll be surrounded," supplied Boromir. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation---this was hardly the most profound statement he had ever heard on the subject of strategy. Aragorn shook his head; he was poised at the other door, listening intently.

"So far, there's no sound from this direction." reported Aragorn. "The passage goes down a stairway, away from the hall we were in. We can't block this door anyway. If we hurt the other side really badly, it may delay them for long enough for us to get away. Get ready to fight!"

As heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, Boromir, Harry and Draco threw themselves at it, wedging it completely shut with pieces of broken swords and other debris they found around the chamber. The whole company retreated to the other side of the chamber, but they didn't get a chance to run. A huge blow to the door made it shake, and then it began grinding slowly open, as a gigantic green, scaly arm and foot were thrust into the room. Boromir hacked at the foot, but his sword just bounced off.

Ron and Draco ran forward. Pointing their wands through the gap, they screamed "Stupefy!" in unison. The arm sagged, and Draco yanked his Japanese shortsword out, chopping at the foot. Where Boromir's sword had failed, the Japanese steel held up, hewing into the hideous creature's flesh. As the arm and leg were withdrawn, Ron threw himself at the door and shut it again, as Boromir and Aragorn wedged it.

"Good job, Draco!" yelled Ron. They high-fived each other; Harry thought for a split-second that back at Hogwarts, seeing those two acting like friends and comrades would have seemed about as likely as Professor Snape falling in love with Ginny Weasley. Then the door was smashed open, and orcs---ugly, bandy-legged creatures with apish features and grey-black skin like nothing Harry had ever seen---swarmed into the chamber.

The fight that followed was fierce and fast; later, Harry couldn't figure out how long it went on. Hermione cast Impediment charms on the first few orcs, stopping them in their tracks so that Boromir and Aragorn could slaughter them. Draco, Ron and Harry threw Petrifying charms at the next few orcs; in these close quarters, none of them dared cast anything really lethal, for fear of hitting one of their comrades by mistake.

The other members of the Company were also making their presence felt; Legolas shot two orcs through the throat that had missed being ensorcelled, while Gimli hewed the legs out from under one that had dared to leap up onto Balin's tomb. Even when the Hogwarts students' spells hadn't hit the enemy, Boromir and Aragorn's swords wreaked a terrifying slaughter. After the Company had felled about fifteen orcs with spells and blades, the rest fled, howling their fear as they disappeared down the hall. Harry looked at his classmates. When things had gone to close combat, they had had to resort to their swords, and all of their blades dripped orcish blood. Harry, himself, had taken the head off a particularly ugly orc that reminded him of a slightly-smarter, slightly-handsomer Dudley Dursley.

"Now! Let's get out of here before that troll returns!" shouted Gandalf. Before they could follow his orders, a particularly large orc in ornate armor leaped into the chamber, while his followers crowded the door behind him. He knocked Boromir back off his feet, dodged Aragorn, and leaped at the Hogwarts students, his hideous red eyes lighting up at the sight of Hermione. Before she could lift her wand, he was on her, bowling her over onto the floor as he tore at her clothes. Her wand flew from her grasp as her head hit the wall with a horrible clunking noise. Her eyes rolled back in her head. The front of her robes and tunic came away in his claw.

"No!" screamed Harry. Without conscious thought on his part, he levelled his wand as he cried "Stupefy!" Ron was simultaneously casting a Reductor Curse, and Draco threw a Cruciatus Curse. The combination of those three spells threw the orc-chieftain across the room with a flash of light; he lay still, smoke coming from his ears as black blood oozed from his mouth and nose, his head at an impossible angle. Again the immense drum sounded, booming loud through the corridors.

Kneeling over the unconscious Hermione, Ron levelled his wand, saying "Ennervate!" Hermione stirred, putting her hand to her head, groaning with pain. When she noticed that her clothes were in shreds, she squeaked, trying to cover herself with the remains of her robes and tunic. Harry handed her her wand. She slipped it into the sleeve-sheath she used to carry it.

"Can you run?" asked Gandalf. At her shaky nod, he snapped: "Right, then run! We've got to get out of here!" The Company ran down the open stairs, Gimli at the rear; he had been very reluctant to leave Balin's tomb. They found a door that could be closed, and Boromir hauled the valves to, the hinges groaning. There was a latch, and they turned it, locking the door.

"Go on! Wait a little for me at the next landing, but if I don't come, keep choosing paths that lead right and down! I've got to try to hold off whatever's coming!" shouted Gandalf. Reluctantly, Harry turned and left the old wizard, helping Ron hold up the semi-conscious Hermione. Their Everlight torches lit the way well enough, and Harry turned to see what Gandalf was doing. By the light of his staff, the old wizard was visible, standing by the closed door. Again and again the drum beat, like the huge heart of some demented earth-god, but in between the beats, Harry could hear Gandalf saying something---it sounded like a spell. Then came an incredibly bright flash of light, and a rumble and thud. The drum beat wildly for a few minutes, and then stopped, as Gandalf hurried down the stairs. "Well, that's all I can do---I've met my equal up there, and I'm all out for now. Keep on going down!"

* * * * *

After an hour or so of steady travel downward, Harry began to hope that they'd be able to get away. There had been no signs of pursuit behind them. Finally, Gandalf called a halt. "I'm all in---I've got to rest, even if every orc in Moria's after us."

Hermione had managed to get some C-pins from somewhere---Harry suspected Boromir; the style was like the ones the Gondorian wore on his own clothing---and was putting her clothing to rights. She seemed to have somewhat recovered from the worst effects of her ordeal in the Chamber of Records, since the first thing she did after her clothes covered her decently was to go over to where Gandalf was sitting on a step. "What was it you met up there?" Her big dark eyes shone with the familiar light of curiosity, and Harry hid a smile. "Did you see what was beating that damned drum?"

Gandalf smiled wearily. "I don't know. I just know that I put a shutting-spell on that door, and at first, I heard orcs talking---I caught their word for fire. Then they went quiet, and Something took hold of the door. It sensed my spell, and cast a counterspell that nearly broke me. The spell I cast in my turn broke the door, and for a second, I saw something---something dark and terrible---and then the combined spells broke the ceiling and nearly blew me down the stairs." He reached out tentatively, ruffling Hermione's hair. "Your lust for knowledge is greater than any dwarf's for wealth, Miss Granger. I predict that in your world, you will one day be one of the mightiest sorcerers ever seen." Hermione blushed, and Harry could see a tear trickling down her cheek.

They now went on again, until a red glow appeared ahead of them. "What's that?" asked Draco. "Those orcs were talking about fire---are the lower levels on fire, somehow?" Gimli shook his head. As they went on, the light became unmistakably fiery, and the air became very hot. Finally they came to a doorway and Gandalf peered out. "I know where we are---the Second Hall. We're almost out---across Durin's Bridge, up a stair, take the main path, through the First Gate, and we're out! But have a look at this!"

Harry gasped in wonder at the sight. It was a huge hall, with pillars holding up the ceiling, carved to look like trees. Across the floor, a huge crevasse had opened, and the fire was flickering out of it. "If we'd come the way we had planned, that would have trapped us. With any luck, it'll stop our pursuers." murmured Gandalf. Harry wondered if the Flame-Freezing Charm he had learned at Hogwarts would work---the heat was incredibly intense, although not yet life-threatening. "Let's go!" shouted Gandalf, as the drum sounded again.

The hideous orc-horde could be heard, crying out and sounding horns, but the sound came from across the fiery crevasse. "Looks like they outsmarted themselves, doesn't it?" drawled Draco. He wiped sweat from his forehead; the heat and effort of their journey had defeated any attempts on his part to remain elegant and unruffled. Still, the light of battle shone in his eyes; Harry was suddenly very glad that Draco Malfoy was along.

"Here's hoping the sun's shining outside!" called Hermione, as they sped across the floor to the opposite side of the hall from the crevasse. Another gulf yawned ahead of them, spanned by a narrow, gracile bridge no more than three feet across---King Durin's Bridge. It had been intended as a defensive measure by the dwarven architects of Moria, ages ago, Harry remembered Gimli mentioning. As they crossed, Hermione leading, arrows began landing among them, until Ron turned and cast an Impediment Curse to stop them. Across the fire, Harry could see what looked like hundreds of orcs; they waved spears and scimitars and shouted war-cries. The huge drum boomed again and again, until Harry wished he could smash it over its owner's head.

Legolas drew his bow and nocked an arrow, but his courage failed him, and Harry turned again to see what it was that had frightened the elf so badly. Two huge trolls could be seen, carrying huge slabs of basalt that they threw down to provide a bridge over the fiery pit, but that wasn't what had scared the elf. The orcs' ranks had parted, as though they themselves were afraid of what was coming---a huge form of shadow, surrounding something dark that gave off more fear than any dementor. "Look!" screamed Harry, and the others turned to see what he was seeing.

As---whatever it was---leaped across the chasm, the fire leaped up to swirl around it, igniting its streaming mane of hair. In one hand it held a flaming sword, and in the other a terrible whip. "A Balrog! A Balrog is come!" cried Legolas, terror in his voice. Harry couldn't blame him---the Balrog made Voldemort, and all the dementors that ever were, seem like Winnie-the-Pooh.

"A Balrog! Now I understand," muttered Gandalf. "I am already so wearyÂ…" Harry stepped up to stand with the old wizard, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Ron, Hermione and Draco were right with him. He looked up at them from under his bushy eyebrows. "Fly, you fools! This is beyond your strength!"

"Like bloody hell we'll run!" snarled Draco. As Gandalf turned to face the foe, Harry and his friends spread out on either side of the bridge, their wands in their hands. Although he knew they were all terrified, nobody watching would have known; their body-language radiated defiance and contempt for their enemy. Harry felt a moment's pride and joy, exultation warring with fear for possession of his soul, as Boromir's horn sounded. Behind him, he could sense the rest of the Company, none of them willing to let their leader face this horror alone. The Balrog paced toward them silently. The orcs had started forward behind the Balrog, but the sound of Boromir's horn had halted them. They watched, their eyes glowing red in the firelight.

Gandalf stood alone in the middle of King Durin's Bridge, leaning on his staff with one hand, his sword Glamdring unsheathed in the other. The Balrog stopped, and raised its whip; flame came from its nostrils. "You cannot pass." said Gandalf, into a sudden stillness. "I am a wielder of the Flame of Anor, a servant of the Secret Fire. Go back to the shadow! The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. You cannot pass!"

The Balrog did not answer. Instead, it seemed to grow, until its wings touched the far walls of the chamber. It stepped forward onto the bridge, towering over Gandalf, and suddenly swung its fiery sword. Hermione and Ron, in unison, cried "Expelliarmus!" and the flaming sword leaped from the creature's hand, falling into the endless depths below.

The creature turned its terrible regard onto the rash fools who had challenged it, and raised its whip. Harry pointed his wand, concentrated on the happiest thought he could call up, and shouted "Expecto Patronum!" A giant silvery stag leaped from the end of his wand, charging the Balrog and forcing it back off the bridge. Staggering slightly, the Balrog fell back, swinging its fiery whip at the Patronus until it dissolved.

When the Patronus was gone, the Balrog stepped forward again, glowing a fiery red with anger. Draco cried "Avada Kedavra!" and green light leaped from his wand to splash off the Balrog, throwing it back yet again. Even the Killing Curse didn't hurt the demon enough to drive it back permanently; although it was knocked backward and off its feet, it got back up, coming forward yet again. "Crucio!" yelled Draco, and the Balrog staggered as it stepped onto the Bridge. Despite Draco's repeated Killing and Cruciatus Curses, the Balrog shook its head and came on nonetheless, bending forward as though it were walking into the teeth of a storm---a storm of spells, as Ron, Harry and Hermione threw everything they had ever learned at their enemy. Magical energies flashed and played around the hideous creature, but still it came on.

Gandalf raised his staff, shouted, and struck the stone of the bridge, breaking it before him and beneath the feet of the Balrog. With a cry that Harry knew he would hear in his nightmares for years, the Balrog fell, taking its unnatural shadow with it---but as it fell, it swung its whip. Standing in the middle of the bridge, Gandalf couldn't dodge in time, and Ron's hastily-cast Impediment Curse had no effect on the fiery whip; the tails wrapped around Gandalf's legs and he was dragged forward and off the bridge. "Fly, you fools!" he cried, and then he fell.

The fires from the chasm died down, as Harry stared with horror into the abyss where Gandalf had disappeared. He wished frantically for his broom, to fly down and try to rescue the old wizard, and then he felt Aragorn's hand on his shoulder, dragging him away. "Come! We've got to get out of here---that was his last order! Run!"

They ran frantically up a wide stair and down a wide corridor; Harry was weeping as he ran, and he could hear his companions weeping as well. The drum beat behind them, slowly and mournfully. As they ran, the light grew stronger, until they were crossing a huge hall with great windows pierced into the side of the mountain, letting in the sunlight. Past it, Harry suddenly saw the Great Gates of Moria standing there, open wide with the sun blazing in.

Although there was an orcish force on guard at the gates, it stood no chance against the Company. Aragorn slashed down the orc-captain, and the others waded in with spells and blades until they fled, shrieking. Down a flight of stairs, and they were outside. The light was bright enough to hurt Harry's eyes, but he didn't care; he was crying too hard to notice the difference. They kept on running for some time, until they could run no more and cast themselves down on the earth. The drum could still be heard, beating a slow tolling rhythm. Behind them, out of bowshot, the gates of Moria yawned, dark against the mountainside. A trickle of smoke oozed out of the gate. Harry wept, unashamedly; he had not felt such grief and misery and guilt since Cedric Diggory's death. Around him, the rest of the Company sobbed, all of them as heartbroken as he was, as the drum rolled on in the depths of the earth, slowly and mournfully.