So I somehow managed to write an entire chapter back in August that I then forgot about until now, in December. Hopefully the same thing won't happen with chapter 9 after I finish that and you won't have to wait so long again. Classes are done until January now, so I'm planning to do a lot of work on this. But for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 8

"I don't think I can handle four days of walking through caves," Éponine muttered as the group wandered through the mines. It had been a few hours since the entrance had been blocked, trapping them within, but she was already at breaking point. Her eyes had by now adjusted to the darkness, illuminated only by the dim light from Gandalf's staff and a torch Aragorn had found, but she hated it.

"I don't think it will be too terrible," Jehan Prouvaire replied, trying to be a bit more cheerful. "Just so long as we don't run into whatever killed all those dwarves that we saw when we first got here..." He shuddered at the memory, and Éponine grimaced.

They had been hoping to take shelter from the cold and bitter snow that had plagued them on the mountain, but instead they had walked into a dark cave full of dead dwarves and Frodo had nearly been killed by a monster with tentacles. She found herself wishing desperately that they could go back to the barricade instead. Being shot by a member of the National Guard was far less frightening than what she and the rest of the group had experienced over the last two days.

The whole experience was made worse by the fact that the mines were a dizzying maze of rickety wooden bridges, winding stairs carved into the cave, and ledges of carved stone, some of which were quite narrow, and there was always a looming abyss on at least one side, so deep that she could never see the bottom.

At one point, she tripped, landing close to the edge. Pebbles clattered as one hand scraped the hard rocks and slipped over the side, the sound echoing as they fell downwards. She lifted her head to catch her breath as she quickly recovered from the sudden impact, her eyes growing wide as she saw the deep chasm that lay before her, and her stomach churned as a lump rose in her throat. A fall over the edge, which she had come so close to in that moment, would mean certain death, and the thought of dying alone in a cold, dark cave in a strange, unknown world terrified her.

"Careful, 'Ponine," a voice murmured as a hand appeared to help her up. She took the hand shakily, relaxing slightly as she recognized Combeferre. "We don't want to lose you."

She simply nodded, grateful for his help, but unable to find her voice after the close call, and the two continued walking with the rest of the group. Her hands stung, and while she could hardly see, she was sure they were scraped, and possibly bleeding in spots, but she did her best to ignore it as the minutes passed, creeping into hours.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels," Gandalf said after a long while, breaking the eerie silence that had set in, "but mithril."

"Mithril?" Éponine turned to Combeferre. "What's mithril?"

The man shrugged, his grey eyes darting around for a moment, almost as if he were searching for a visual clue, before looking back at her. "I've never heard of it, must be something from this world that isn't found in ours."

She turned her attention back to Gandalf, who was lowering his staff slightly towards a deep chasm on their right-hand side, revealing shining metal embedded in the rocky cliffs below. The light of the staff was reflected by them, causing the whole area to glow with a bright, white light. Éponine was certain that if her father had been there, he would have gone mad trying to find a way to dig the ore out himself.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," Gandalf said as they continued on. Bilbo? Thorin? Éponine looked around, hoping someone would explain the names to her, but no explanation came.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire." From the corner of her eye, Éponine saw Frodo's eyes widen as he drew in a sharp breath. The Shire... That's where the hobbits are from. A metal shirt had more value than an entire region? Her mind whirled in amazement. She glanced at Enjolras, and saw a dark expression on his face. No doubt he was thinking the same thing she was, that such wealth could surely have fed all of the poor, hungry citizens of France for their whole lives.

She found herself longing to climb down into the caverns and take a bit, just out of the deep instinct of self preservation that she had developed so strongly while living on the streets. Rationally, she knew she no longer had to worry about where her next meal would come from – only whether she would survive long enough to have it – but the effects of years of starvation had yet to wear off, and the desire for just a small amount of wealth was nearly too much to bear.

"That mithril shirt was likely worth more than all the wealth of the King of France," Combeferre murmured.

"How are these people so calm about something being worth so much?" Enjolras replied. "They were just told that some shirt has more value than a country, or whatever it is that the Shire is, and they're just continuing to walk?"

"They probably just have different priorities, especially with the whole Ring of Death that they're carrying," Bahorel replied. "Oh, and the fact that we're stuck in a cave where something killed a bunch of dwarves, and whatever killed them could be in here with us. It's not exactly the best time for worrying about money."

"I agree with Bahorel," Éponine said, shaking off her first instincts, the memory of her recent close encounter with the edge of the steep cliffs. "We need to focus on getting out of these mines."

They quickly hurried away from the pit, following the Fellowship deeper into Moria.

By the fourth day of travelling through Moria, they were all exhausted and desperate to get out.

"It can't be much further," Éponine said wearily as she pulled herself up the steep stairs, carefully avoiding the bodies of dead dwarves and abandoned books that were scattered upon them haphazardly.

Combeferre was beginning to feel uncomfortable with how desensitized he was becoming to the sight of the decomposing corpses that littered the mines, and he was also beginning to feel more anxious the longer they were there, his stomach now churning only at his thoughts rather than what he saw. Legolas had seemed certain that goblins were to blame for the dead dwarves when they had first arrived, yet they had yet to see any sign of goblins aside from the arrows and the bodies of the slain dwarves. Either their group was progressing closer to danger, or the goblins had abandoned the mines. He hoped desperately that it would be the latter.

As they finished climbing the stairs, Combeferre felt his heart sink. Three passageways stood before them, and Gandalf was glancing from one to the other, looking rather confused.

"I have no memory of this place," the wizard said after a moment.

"I knew it," Éponine muttered. "We're going to die here."

"No we're not," Combeferre said reassuringly, forcing himself to sound more calm than he felt and faking a smile. "Let's just sit and rest for a bit while we wait."

"Wait for what? Death?" Éponine asked.

"It's fine, we'll be out of here soon," Jehan said, cutting in. "I can't wait to get out again... breathe in the fresh air, see the grass and trees and flowers." Éponine rolled her eyes at that comment and turned away. Combeferre sighed and turned to Enjolras.

"How are you holding up, mon ami?" he asked gently.

"I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic," his friend replied. "This place is a nightmare."

"I don't like the darkness down here either, but it shouldn't be too much longer," Combeferre told him reassuringly. "Gandalf said four days, and today is the fourth day. He just needs a bit of time to figure out which way we need to go."

Enjolras didn't respond, so Combeferre decided to leave his friend alone. Glancing up, he saw that Éponine had moved away from the group and was sitting alone. He got up and moved over to her, hoping to maybe help in some way.

"What do you want?" she asked, staring straight ahead rather than looking at him.

"Just to talk, maybe get to know you a bit," he replied gently. "We are travelling together now, after all."

"Fair enough. What did you want to talk about?"

"Why were you at the barricade?" He regretted the question as soon as it came out. They hardly knew each other, it was a terrible place to start. Though it now felt worlds away, the barricade, their pain and suffering, their loss, and their apparent deaths were still recent memories and experiences.

"Why were you?" she shot back without hesitation.

"The same reason Enjolras and the others were there," he replied, choosing his words carefully. Éponine was one of the impoverished citizens he and his friends sought to help. One wrong word and it could all come across as attention seeking, with their group speaking over the poor to make themselves feel better. "The king and his government care only for themselves and do nothing for the citizens of France. They keep all of the wealth for themselves with no thoughts for anyone else. It's almost impossible for those without wealth to build themselves up." He hoped what he was saying was coming across properly and not making their group look bad. She was one of the people they had been trying to help, and that last thing he wanted to do was make it sound like he and his friends had been overstepping and talking over them. "Enjolras believes very strongly that a republic operating under a democracy would suit the needs of every citizen, not only the rich, and that revolution is the only way to bring about that change. I agree with him, to an extent. I would prefer a more peaceful resolution through education, however Enjolras is my best friend, I can't abandon him, and throughout history some violence has unfortunately been necessary to bring about change."

"Huh." She still wasn't looking at him, and the huffed response left him entirely uncertain of what she was thinking.

"So, what were you doing there?" Combeferre asked again. "Was it for Marius? I saw you following him a lot, even before the rebellion. And I saw you grab the gun that was aimed at him."

She was silent again, and Combeferre was certain that he had pressed too far.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked-"

"You're right." He looked at her again, and saw that her gaze had shifted down. "I was there for Marius. I- it's stupid, really, I thought maybe- maybe things would change if we were both there. That dying in his arms would be romantic, and maybe he would die too and we could be together. Of course it didn't work out, the whole thing was ridiculous."

"Love makes people do strange things," he replied, hoping that the cliched words would somehow be comforting. She scoffed in response.

"Love?" She finally looked up at him, her dark eyes meeting his grey ones. "I'm not even sure it was love. I thought it was but, I wanted Marius to die. He wouldn't have even been there if I hadn't talked him into it at the last minute, he wanted to try to find a way to follow Cosette to London. I was just delusional..."

"That- that is rather extreme," Combeferre said after a moment, slowly absorbing her explanation. "But it's okay. It's over now, and you did save his life."

"Which wouldn't have been necessary if I'd just let him chase after Cosette," Éponine huffed, resting her chin on her hands. "I made a mess of everything..."

"You didn't make a mess of everything," Combeferre replied. "Yes, you brought Marius to the barricade, but he's still alive. You may have died, but now you're here. You get a second chance. A lot of people don't. Things are going to be okay."

She looked up at him, her dark eyes hopeful. "You really think so?"

He nodded. "I do."

She smiled for a moment, but then sighed and lowered her head again. "It doesn't matter though. We're still trapped down here and we're lost."

"I'm sure it will be fine. Just wait, Gandalf will figure it out," Combeferre replied reassuringly.

"I hope you're right," she muttered. Combeferre sighed and walked away. It's all right though, he told himself. You got through to her a little. She smiled, that's something.

"Ah! It's this way!" Gandalf said suddenly, perking up.

"He's remembered!" Merry exclaimed excitedly.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here," Gandalf replied as he stood, heading down one of the passageways. "If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Combeferre glanced at Éponine as they started down the passageway, hoping to see something to show that she had a little more faith, but her expression was unreadable. Perhaps my time would have been better spent continuing my efforts with Enjolras, he wondered. At least I can read him and tell if I'm helping. Then again, Courfeyrac had always been better with people than he was, able to make anyone smile with seemingly no effort, while Combeferre himself had – unintentionally – very nearly sent Marius home in tears when they had first met. Maybe Courfeyrac can help Enjolras out... And Éponine too, perhaps. She may not be one of Les Amis, but she is travelling with us. He looked over at his friend. At least, I hope he can help... So far there hasn't been much change.

He shook his head slightly at the moment of doubt. Of course Courfeyrac would be able to help. They would just need the right moment first, ideally once they were out of the mines. Yes, as soon as we're out of these mines, everything will get better.