Author Note: Inspired by "Steady is the Hand" by rhosinthorn. Thank you for everyone who has read and reviewed my story.

The Shards of Sorrow

Review: The Fellowship of the Ring departs from Imladris and begins their long journey South through the Wilderness and into the region of Hollin, previously known as Eregion. It becomes clear that the birds and small animals have been driven out by ravens of Fangorn and Dunland and there is likely some unknown larger predator as well.

The company attempts the Redhorn Gate over Caradhras due to Aragorn's reluctance to attempt Gandalf's route, but the mountain is too powerful. They spend a night huddled around the fire on the lowest section of the pass before retreating, the mountain having defeated them.

The Company decides to make for Gandalf's secret road—through the Mines of Moria. Distant wolf howls pierce the night and it is suddenly clear what has driven out the larger animals. They are able to flee to a more defensible position for their next night and Branwen sets up a new ward scheme she had developed after the Witch-King had broken her barrier so easily last time.

A pack of Wargs descend on the camp and Branwen taunts them all into attacking at once, so that her ward scheme is most effective. She breaks the protective ward to overpower the secondary barrier and results in an explosion outward that rends the Warg pack.

The next morning, they flee to the Gate of Moria but, as the day progresses, it is clear that another Warg pack is on their trail. As the sun is setting, they reach a previously unknown lake that has flooded the shallow valley before the Gates of Moria and Branwen sees a Shadow within the water that she cannot See through. She warns the Company not to disturb it needlessly.

They reach the closed Gates of Moria and Gandalf begins attempting to derive the password, while the rest of the Company are rather disheartened and becoming stressed as Boromir vents his frustration on Gandalf. Gandalf, after many attempts on the door, eventually becomes frustrated and throws down his staff. Wolf howls sound closer in the same moment and Boromir, frustrated again, throws a large stone into the lake, disturbing it.

Branwen berates Boromir, threatening to throw him in if he disturbs it again as something is residing in the lake, and Boromir insults her for being unladylike. Aragorn intervenes and pulls back Branwen to calm her down. He is successful and Branwen expresses her frustration to Aragorn in Elvish about Boromir disregarding her and always staring at her. During the course of their conversation, Branwen says the password unwittingly and the Gates of Moria are opened.

The monster of the lake then attacks and tries to take Frodo, but Sam frees him as the rest flee into Moria. Branwen acts as a rearguard and freezes a portion of the lake over, but it is ineffective and only enrages the monster. She enters through the Gates of Moria just in time before the monster causes a cave in and her staff is caught in the falling rock.

Chapter Eighteen – Through Shadow and Flame

The Third Age – January 13th, 3019

Branwen dropped to her knees as her hands shakily grasped the two halves of her staff; its devastation highlighted by the small orb of white light that floated above her head.

"FUCK!"

She dropped the halves as her hands knotted into her hair grabbing fistfuls. What the fuck was she supposed to do with this now!? She quite literally had no options, as far as she knew, with the underground caverns of Moria and this severely limited her spell casting abilities; even as improved as she had become over the decades.

Branwen flinched away when a hand touched her shoulder…but relaxed when she saw it was Aragorn. He had come back down the stairs and was kneeling next to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder again before his eyes glanced down at her staff. He immediately looked back to her, his eyes going up and down her form as he asked quietly, "Are you well?"

Branwen snorted, "Does it appear that I am well?"

Aragorn's voice was gentle but firm, "Are you well? Are you injured or hurt?"

Branwen paused and met his eyes before shaking her head, "…No. This is just…a very large setback."

Aragorn put one arm over her shoulder and squeezed her into his side for a moment before releasing her. He said, "I had thought we lost you… The last thing I saw was you running through the door and then there was the cave in…"

Branwen snorted, "Worry about yourself first. Of the Company, I am the only one that's unkillable…"

Aragorn frowned, "Do you think looking at your broken body would not devastate us all? …Devastate me?"

Branwen felt a tug on her heart as he looked at her with such intensity. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her like that…and she found it endearing rather than repulsive. She swallowed heavily and turned away, "…My apologies. You are correct… Thank you for caring."

Aragorn looked at her sternly before it faded into a gentle smile, "Of course I care about you. Now, let us come away from this rubble. I care not to tempt a second collapse on top of us."

Branwen nodded as she picked up her staff pieces; Aragorn helping her to her feet. They mounted the stairs as the others looked at her with concern. Gandalf's eyes went to her staff, "…Oh, dear. My condolences, Branwen."

It seemed his comment drew attention to the staff pieces she carried.

It appeared Boromir was still stinging from their exchange outside as he commented with some nastiness, "A witch without her staff? Little better than a simple woman now then?"

Aragorn raised his voice, "Boromir! Need it be said that she lost it because she was guarding the rear from a monstrosity that you roused!"

Boromir reared back as if struck, "No one asked her to do so!"

Gandalf intervened, "Enough! That is enough!"

Branwen watched, feeling rather apathetic to everything, as she felt the magic of her staff fading in her hands. She Saw that the blackness of the Ring seemed to be much more active under the noxious Shadow of Moria…but it did not appear that it could manipulate this Shadow. That meant that this darkness was likely not of Sauron then.

She frowned lightly as she Saw the tendrils of the Ring, reminding her now of that lake monster, seemed to quicken in the tenseness between them all. Its blackness had bored deeper into Frodo as his bearer…but Boromir seemed to be the next most affected.

Damnit all to hell…and she did not think she even had the strength to cleanse it without her staff. Outside of the sanctuary of Imladris, within a deep and miasmic Shadow, and without her staff? Impossible.

Gandalf's voice then brought her back, "Branwen, can you repair your staff?"

She looked up at him as Pippin's voice asked with disgust, "What is that thing connecting the pieces?"

Branwen glanced down again at her staff. Before her eyes, the dragon heartstring, exposed to the air for the first time after being encased and magically preserved for over seventy years, was withering with a sound almost like sizzling. Looking at the crystal on top, there was even a large crack down the middle and she felt certain that it was only be held together by the dead wood gripping it.

Her staff was completely dead.

Branwen, with one last look, threw the staff over her shoulder into the darkness with a clatter. It was little better than rubbish now. She answered, "No, it cannot be repaired. The living wood is now dead. That thing inside was dragon heartstring from a Dragon I slayed, before cutting out its heart some seventy years ago in the Withered Heath. With the magic broken, its decaying rapidly and will be completely desiccated within hours…at best. Even the crystal is broken.

Unless we can afford a stop in the Withered Heath or anyone knows of a nearby Dragon or similar that I can kill, I will have to go without."

Gandalf bowed his head, "Again, my condolences, my dear… Are you familiar with how to construct a staff like mine? Binding it to the natural rhythm of the world?"

Branwen frowned, "I know how to construct a basic staff, though it would do nothing for me. I do not know how to go about binding it to the Wyld."

Gandalf gave a gentle smile, "Then we shall remedy that when we reach Lórien. Maybe your esteemed grandparents will lend you a bough from a Mallorn tree?"

Branwen felt a little better and nodded, "Thank you, Gandalf."

She turned to Boromir then and sighed. He appeared to draw himself up, ready to begin their exchange anew. Branwen felt silly for having gotten so worked up over such…silliness. For that was what it felt like the face of the Shadow of Moria without her wand-staff. She supposed with his grey eyes, proud gait, spoiled air, and weakness towards and desire of power, Boromir had reminded her of Draco Malfoy far more than she cared to admit.

Heavens above, she was nearly one-hundred-and-sixty-years-old and she was letting the ghost on Draco Malfoy rent space in her head… Now if that was not pathetic, she did not know what. Even now her could hear Malfoy saying to her 'Scarhead', 'Put the scar in scarlet woman', 'Half-blood Whore', and all other sorts of drivel. She lightly shook her head to clear her thoughts.

Branwen directed to Boromir, "I've spoken unkindly and have been rude... My apologies for that. I will endeavor to be better and stop that. It is no excuse, but you have reminded me greatly of someone that had, at one point, been an enemy of mine. That I allowed that to affect my behavior towards you is not acceptable."

Boromir appeared quite off balance.

҉

Aragorn smiled lightly from behind Branwen. It made him quite proud of her for rising above, despite how devasting it appeared to be for her that her staff was broken beyond repair. Boromir looked quite unsure now, the wind so very clearly taken out of his sails. Aragorn imagined it must be difficult to hold onto ire before such a small and petite figure with a fair face.

Aragorn's gaze then went to Branwen's back.

When he lost sight of her in the cave-in and thought she had been buried…Aragorn thought his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. In that moment, he forgot all about her curse that stopped her from truly dying and only knew that he needed to know that she was alright.

He had already started moving forward when the small flicker of light lit up the dusty stone entry hall and she was revealed appearing so very tiny before the ruin of the Gates. She was dusty and dirty…but appeared whole. He felt his breath return to him.

When she had fallen to her knees and cursed so loudly, Aragorn found himself terrified again and moved to her quickly. Branwen appeared uninjured and he saw her staff. It was a small twinge of concern…but he was far more concerned with her.

When she had waved off her own wellbeing, so concerned with her staff, Aragorn felt angry. How dare she brush herself aside so easily! Did she not realize how heartrending it would be for him to see her body broken!? Regardless if she healed and came back, Aragorn felt that might be an injury his heart might never heal…

Though he was ashamed to admit it, he loved Branwen and he never wanted that to befall her again. Not while his body drew breath.

Boromir seemed to collect himself and appeared to have shrunk in on himself a bit, "You are not the only one at fault, Lady Branwen. My deepest apologies for my own behavior. I admit that…I am unused to women, although you are an Elf, holding such prominence and…authority. I…understand now that I have allowed myself to disregard your wisdom and words because you are a woman…Elf-maiden."

And there was the good man that Aragorn knew Boromir could be. Proud and arrogant as he could be, Boromir had a good heart. It seemed there was hope yet.

Gandalf also looked quite pleased with this turn of events. He cleared his throat, his voice becoming a bit more somber, "Well, the passage behind us is obviously blocked. Now, there is only one way out—on the other side of the mountains."

This spurred on conversation as Frodo commented, "I felt that something horrible was near the moment that my foot first touched the water. What was the thing…or were there many of them?"

Branwen answered, "It was only a singular creature. There was a Shadow in the water that my Sight could not pierce when it was still. When it acted, it revealed itself… It was some horrid monstrosity from what I could See."

Gandalf sighed, "Yes, as I had told Branwen earlier when she had mentioned her concerns, something had either crept or has been driven out of the dark waters under the mountains. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."

Boromir's quiet introspection seemed to have evaporated a bit with Gandalf's words. He muttered lowly, but the stone echoed it back loud enough to be heard, "In the deep places of the world… And there we are going against my wish. Who will lead us now in this deadly dark?"

Gandalf announced, "I will! And Gimli shall walk with me. Follow my staff!"

The Wizard held his staff aloft and a small point of light, similar to the orb that followed Branwen, bloomed. It shone bright for just a moment, revealing a long, wide, and gentle staircase of some two-hundred some stairs and an arched passage at the top. The light dimmed again and, between the Wizard's staff and Branwen's Witchlight, there was just enough luminescence that they could make out each other's faces in the darkness.

Branwen said with quiet confidence, directed mostly at Frodo, "While my magic is not so effective without my staff, it is the difference between a siege engine and a war hammer. I will still protect you as best I can."

Her eyes then glanced to Aragorn, her eyes boring into his, she continued, "That I promise."

Aragorn felt a swell of emotion before he gave her a small smile with a shake of his head. He said quietly, "Worry not about such things for now. Let us focus on making it through the long dark of Moria first."

Branwen nodded, her voice a whisper, "You are correct…though there is a heavy and noxious Shadow that lies here in Moria and I…worry."

Aragorn said nothing. Though the Truth of Durin's Bane was shrouded to him, he knew enough and the hazard it posed. His attention was drawn back as Branwen asked, "…Estel? When you have the chance, will you still speak with your friend…? I appreciate the apology…but his stares still make me uncomfortable. I did not want to say anything while apologizing to avoid shaming him in front of everyone."

Aragorn rested his hand lightly on her small shoulder for a moment, "Of course. I will speak with him once the opportunity presents itself."

Branwen smiled, her emerald eyes glowing even in the darkness, "Thank you, Estel."

Aragorn could not help but feel that, for the first time, when she called him by his old name, it was not as a child, but as an equal.

҉

Boromir was glad to hear, once they had reached the top of the stairs, Frodo say, "Let us sit, rest, and have something to eat here on the landing! Since I do not think we will find a dining room."

Boromir sat heavily off to the side as Branwen set down her bag and some hard cheese, dried fruit, hardtack, and jerky were distributed among everyone. Gandalf even handed out some of his Elvish cordial so that each of them may take a sip. The Wizard said, "It will not last much longer, I am afraid, but I think we need it after that horror at the gate. And unless we have great luck, we shall need all that is left before we see the other side!

Go carefully with the water too! There are many streams and wells in the Mines, but they should not be touched. We may not have a chance of filling our waterskins and bottles until we come down into the Dimrill Dale."

Boromir wondered if the water was contaminated from the Mines…or from Orc filth or both. He felt a greater sense of despair settle over him. No choice but to go through Moria, spoken only of with dark whispers, with only the Wizard to guide them…and their Witch now cut off by the knees with the destruction of her magic staff.

Frodo asked Gandalf, "How long is that going to take us?"

Gandalf's answer was not much for Boromir's confidence, "I cannot say. It depends on many chances. But going straight, without mishap or losing our way, we shall take three or four marches, I expect. It cannot be less than forty miles from the West door to the East door in a direct line, and the road may wind much."

Conversation then splintered as they turned to their food. Boromir returned back into his thoughts instead.

He had expected apoplectic rage and even potentially needing to defend himself…he had not expected an apology. It made him feel rather like an ass now. He and Branwen had gotten off to a bad start during the Council of Elrond, him exhausted from his long trip that he had not even rested from…and apparently influenced by the Ring as she said, while she had been heavy-handed with her words and magic.

Despite hearing of her power and even seeing it, it was so very difficult for him to relate a great magical power with such a small and fair maiden. It had, in truth, made him able to disregard her words on more than one occasion even as he struggled with his conflicting attraction, awe, and wariness of her. He had dismissed her words during the Council of Elrond until she had silenced him, thought she was exaggerating the power of Saruman when they discussed their course after Caradhras and his idea of going South until Gandalf concurred with her, and thought her words of warning about the lake outside the Gates were overdramatic.

Boromir looked up when he realized Aragorn had dropped to sit with him. The taller man gave him a smile and asked quietly, "How are you, my friend? Your face looks as dark as the hall around us."

Boromir replied with a whisper, "I worry of what we are to meet here in Moria. I fear my confidence in Gandalf is flagging as it does not seem that he knows the way as surely as he would have led us to believe."

Aragorn glanced to the Wizard before he turned back to him and reassured, "Do not be afraid. I have been with him on many a journey, if never on one so dark, and there are tales in Rivendell of greater deeds of his than any that I have seen. He will not go astray, if there is any path to find. He had led us in here against our fears, but he will lead us out again, at whatever cost to himself. He is surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Berúthiel."

The reference of the former evil Queen of Gondor's notorious ten cat spies before she was exiled and struck from the Book of Kings somehow made Boromir issue a short laugh. Aragorn was a good and kingly man, truly.

Aragorn then said, ending the momentary silence between them, his voice low enough that the others could not hear, "I confess, I have come to speak with you about something else."

Boromir looked at Aragorn, his eyebrows coming together. Aragorn continued, "Branwen had not wished to mention so while apologizing to you in front of the Company…but she has noticed your eyes upon her these last few months. She has confessed to me that it makes her deeply uncomfortable."

Boromir felt the words like a knife to the heart as his face burned. He had not been terribly discreet…but to know that a maiden found herself…uneasy because of his attention, it was quite a blow to his ego. Boromir had enjoyed a certain and rather universal success with the women that he had shown interest within as, he knew, he was handsome, well-respected, and to come into a powerful title and lordship.

His glance to Aragorn told him that the Ranger had also noticed Boromir's glances at Branwen.

Boromir sighed, "…I had not meant to do so. I readily admit, I have not seen a maiden fairer in my life…excluding her sister. I find my eyes go to her when we are in a space together."

Aragorn nodded, "I understand. Arwen and Branwen share the same face and bear a stark resemblance to Lúthien Tinúviel. However, while I understand, it would be best to respect her wishes. I believe it has also been a contributing factor to tension… I am unsure if I should say this, but Branwen has not had the best experience with Men…and she is most often uneasy under unwanted male attention. And when Branwen is uneasy, she is more likely to stand her ground than retreat."

Boromir nodded, "I understand. Thank you for sharing this with me… I will endeavor to change this so that we may mend fences."

Aragorn clapped his hand on Boromir's shoulder, a kind smile on his face, "Good man! We will likely be off soon, so let us keep our wits about us and keep blades pointed outwards. I will remind Branwen much the same."

Aragorn got up to let Boromir sink back into thought. Boromir glanced at the Witch, her beauty highlighted even in darkness by the small orb of light over her, before he turned away.

Yes, he had been an ass…and he would be better moving forward.

҉

Branwen had noticed that Aragorn has gone aside to speak with Boromir and felt a sense of gratitude for that. Though Aragorn did not mention it and she did not say anything, they shared a look and Branwen gave him a smile. He returned it and Branwen felt a flutter in her stomach.

It took her a moment to recognize it for what it was...and she pushed it away fiercely from her thoughts.

Gandalf then stood and announced, "Let us be off then! We should not tarry unnecessarily."

They were all eager to move through as Moria as quickly as was possible and so, even though they had walked all day, they continued through the dark for several hours. Gandalf's light ahead guided them while Branwen's own light had dimmed at Gandalf's request only enough so that they might not trip in the darkness.

The light was so little that it was impossible to even make out the details of the hallway around them. Her Sight was not much help either as the Shadow within the Unseen was black and she felt as if she was walking through dense fog whenever she tried to See through it.

Gandalf had drawn his sword to walk with openly at the start of their march and the others had followed suit. Branwen appreciated the weight of Cýron in her hand as she was so very used to holding onto her staff. Gandalf and Gimli led in the front, Frodo and Sam behind them, Legolas and Boromir following, Merry and Pippin at their heels, and she and Aragorn brought up the rear.

Their path took them downward through a twisting passage. It became hotter and stifling. While the air was not foul, the Shadow became deeper around them. Branwen kept her eyes peeled as they passed countless corridors, stairways, and arches twisting all different ways away, upward, and downward from them. Holes in walls were daunting but fissures in the floors would have been potentially fatal without the light provided by Gandalf's and her small wisps.

Some of the crevices in the floor extended across the entire hallway and a few were wide enough they had to be vaulted over. Aragorn helped her across when able and went over first to catch her when the gap was too wide. Branwen felt it unnecessary, as she thought she was rather more graceful crossing than most of them except Legolas, but did not complain.

She could understand that the scare of the cave-in was likely making him more protective, though it was supposed to be her job to protect him.

Whenever they reached a crossroad, Gandalf would often pause for a moment, considering his options, before taking them confidently onward. She felt, besides Gandalf and Gimli, that they were all troubled by the darkness of Moria, for different reasons. The Hobbits seemed worried of the yawning blackness around them. Boromir, Legolas, and Aragorn seemed far more concerned with the things that might be laying out of sight. As for Branwen, the Shadow hung on her oppressively and it irked her deeply to see the Ring spreading its influence, preying on the fears of their party.

Aragorn spoke encouraging words to the others ahead at times, especially when Gandalf would pause for longer periods at different junctions.

The march continued ever downward it seemed and Branwen was becoming increasingly agitated and leery. It was during a pause when she first Saw it and sensed it.

A tendril from the Ring had snaked far away into the darkness behind them and she Saw a flicker of a twisted lifeforce through the Shadow, but it disappeared so quickly around a corner, she wondered if she had even Seen it. Only the reaching tendril of the Ring convinced her that something was behind them.

Reaching out her senses proved useless—the Wyld around them was simply heavy and oppressive.

She nudged Aragorn and jerked her head behind them. Aragorn raised an eyebrow with a stern face. She then held a finger to her lips and pulled her Veil tightly about her to disappear completely. Aragorn frowned deeply but did not move.

None of the Company had noticed, as their eyes were focused on Gandalf as they waited for him to decide on their newest course. Branwen left the small bit of light with Aragorn and opened her Sight just enough to see where to place her feet as she walked Unseen and silent back down the corridor, making sure to stay within the wide track where their feet had swept away the dust already.

Finally, she Saw the creature just as it poked its head back around the corner after it had pulled back when she looked towards it. It was focused on the visible party members.

It was grotesque and his lifeforce was horribly twisted and stretched...but it was no Orc and, despite the mutilation of its lifeforce, its aura was not necessarily evil like Wargs, Orcs, or Dragons. She had only seen a lifeforce like this from…Bilbo, but not nearly to this extent. As she walked closer to it, her mundane eyes took in that he was no bigger than a Hobbit, with large pale blue eyes that were reflective in the low light, sallow pale skin, and the remnants of stringy dark hair.

His body was wiry and bony, but she felt there was likely a deceptive strength to them.

She considered the ugly creature from a distance. Branwen was quite tempted to sneak up upon him and stick a blade in his chest and be done with it…but she worried about the smell of blood attracting Orcs…or worse. If she killed him here, their trail in the dust was clear to anyone with eyes to see and they might have things chasing them in the darkness then.

Even if she cast him into a dark chasm, it would be like ringing the warning bell that there were intruders in Moria. Gandalf had mentioned that the Orcs of the Misty Mountains had been mostly devastated and scattered at the Battle of the Five Armies. However, that had been decades ago now and Orcs spawned quickly in dark places just like the Goblins of Earth did.

Branwen felt it best to leave the creature be…if only for now and until they escaped from Moria. She would consult with Aragorn and Gandalf. She had a suspicion of what…or better yet, whom this creature was.

As she observed his fixed gaze on Frodo and that the Ring's tendril had completely encased the creature's heart, she was positive of his identity. They might have use of him yet for information…or other purposes. Aragorn would not be overjoyed to see this thing again, of that she was sure, having marched him from the Dead Marshes all the way to Northern Mirkwood.

Her course decided, Branwen returned to the Company and stepped out of the creature's line of sight before removing her Veil. Aragorn's eyes snapped to her and she stepped back forward with the Company. Legolas had noticed her sudden reappearance as well but said nothing.

Branwen stepped back next to Aragorn, her eyes away from the dark corridor behind them as her wisp circled back to her, and he asked, "Well, what did you find?"

She shook her head and whisper, "Later. Once we stop, I'll speak with you and Gandalf. It's not necessarily a concern…for the moment."

Aragorn did not look happy, but he accepted it with a short nod.

҉

It was some time later that they came to a stop. Branwen noticed that Gandalf bore a heavy frown as he considered the archway with three separate doorways before him. All continued on their Easterly bearing, but the left plunged even more sharply downward than they already were, the middle continued on, and the right climbed steeply away.

Gandalf then said aloud, "I have no memory of this place at all…"

The Hobbits and Legolas seemed disheartened by this pronouncement, while Boromir tensed up. Gimli appeared to accept it as did Aragorn. As for her, she would have been shocked if Gandalf could remember every twisting passageway through this vast anthill of Dwarf tunnels and halls.

Gandalf stepped towards the various openings, his staff light tracing around them in search of signs, glyphs, or clues, but it did not appear to reveal anything. In her Sight, the left one going downward seemed even darker with the Shadow, while the other two were unchanging.

The Wizard spoke again, "I am too weary to decide. And I expect that you are all as weary as I am, or wearier. We had better halt here for what is left of the night."

He seemed to realize what he said and continued, "You know what I mean! In here, it is ever dark, but outside the late moon is riding Westward and midnight has passed."

Besides the archway, there were a set of stone doors that were half open. Beyond, it looked as if there was only a singular chamber. Merry and Pippin seemed eager to check it now that they were coming to a stop and Gandalf called to them, "Steady! You do not know what is inside yet! I will go first."

The Wizard poked his staff inside followed by his head while Branwen kept her eyes looking up and down the corridor. The Ring's finger of smoke was still present and she knew that meant their lurker was still in the darkness not far behind them.

The others filed in behind Gandalf and she heard his voice from inside the chamber, "There!"

She followed in, closing the door behind her, as Aragorn said to the eager Hobbits, "One of you might have fallen in and still be wondering when you were going to strike the bottom. Let the guide go first, while you have one."

Branwen looked over the room to see what they were speaking of and saw the gaping circular mouth in the center of the floor, with only broken and rusty chains laying around the edges and hanging down into the bottomless pit with scattered stones about.

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

The others began to settle along the walls and corners as far from the well as they could except Aragorn. Though the Wizard was tired, he came when Aragorn beckoned him and they sat together while the others made themselves comfortable.

Branwen whispered to them, "We have something following us… I believe I recognize it from the descriptions. About the size of a Hobbit, deathly pale skin and mostly unclothed with bare feet, large eyes, mostly bald with only stringy hair left, and rather emaciated."

Aragorn's eyes widened and replied, "That does sound like our missing prisoner from the Woodland Realm. He has sharp ears, so we must be careful to avoid saying his name, if we wish to not let him know that we know he is there."

Gandalf nodded, "Indeed it does… How did you spot him? He's rather difficult to see in the darkness."

Branwen answered, "I saw the Ring stretching out its influence far behind us and I happened to glimpse him while we were stopped at an earlier crossroad. I considered killing him, as I had the opportunity to sneak up on him under Veil with my sword, but I worried that his blood would draw Orcs and whatever this nameless evil is of Moria. We've left a rather clear trail in the dust and would be rather easy to pursue."

Aragorn hummed and said, "I feel like that was the correct decision. He wails awfully when in pain and he would have surely woken every evil thing within Moria."

Gandalf hummed in thought, "I too am glad that you stayed your blade… He is a pitiful thing and, as I've told Frodo when the topic of him came up first, I feel that he still has a part to play in this. His fate is bound up with the Ring."

Branwen frowned, "Well, I am all for waiting until we leave Moria, but I would rather dispose of him sooner rather than later. What if he leads Orcs to us…or something else?"

Gandalf queried, "And why must we do so? He is old and wretched, but does he deserve Death? Many that live deserve Death and some that die deserve Life. While you can deal in Death, can you give Life to those who deserve it? We cannot see all ends and what his purpose is in them.

I also doubt he will lead anything to us here in Moria. He is as much an intruder as we are, and he would certainly lose the Ring should he do so. The nameless evil of Moria, of which I shall not speak of further besides I only have suspicions from the tales I have heard, is not a foe that he could wrest the Ring from. Our friend is as cunning as he is obsessive concerning the Ring."

Branwen said firmly, "Death is a mercy. Even for those that deserve Life, while the passage may be brutal, falling into Death is peaceful. Sometimes, while I still had the option, I wish that I had chosen Death instead of Life."

Aragorn looked deeply unhappy ay what she said that but Gandalf appeared thoughtful, "Yes, your circumstances give you a unique perspective, but I ask that you show this poor creature mercy and let live what lives."

Branwen sighed deeply, "…I once showed mercy to a wretched person…and he was the one that brought back and returned the Dark Lord that had plagued my homeland to full strength. His actions caused many deaths. I regret not killing him while the opportunity was at hand."

Gandalf was firm, "And that person was himself and this creature is another. It serves no purpose to paint all individuals with the same brush. He is not evil…just very sick and twisted by the Ring… Mercy is not just for others…it is also for ourselves. Maybe…if you begin to show others mercy and forgiveness, as you had with Boromir earlier, you may find…you may even give yourself mercy."

Branwen flinched hard as she stared at the kindly expression on the Wizard's face. Aragorn's eyes were on her face as well and the Ranger was unreadable. Gandalf said, "Think on it… For now, let us leave the poor wretch be. We must simply be aware of him, but he shall not lead anything to us in Moria."

Branwen nodded slowly, unsure how talks of disposing of Gollum had turned into a debate of mercy and self-forgiveness.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a plunk, very distant and deep, but it reverberated upward through the open shaft. Branwen froze as Aragorn and Gandalf whipped around. Pippin stood by the open shaft with a white face.

Gandalf asked with an urgent whisper, "What's that!?"

There was a pause, the others were looking gravely at the well, before Pippin raised his hand ashamedly, "…I…may have dropped a stone down the well…"

Branwen's teeth clicked shut as her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. Aragorn looked at Pippin with disbelief while the others were a mix of emotions. Gandalf was furious and he looked nearly ready to strike the Hobbit. Gandalf berated him furiously, but still in a whisper, "Fool of a Took! 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!"

As they waited in silence, Branwen alternated between dark thoughts of slaying Gollum and throwing his body down the well, as the silence had already been disturbed, and some amusement that Gandalf, so soon after talks of mercy and forgiveness, had told Pippin to do what she had threatened Boromir with at the lake.

Finally, after several moments of waiting in silence, something else disturbed the quiet from down below.

Clang, clang…

Clang, clang…

Clang, clang…

It continued on for a moment in a regular and repeated manner before it finally died off and the silence resettled heavily on the tension that now filled the chamber. Gimli declared, "That was the sound of a hammer, if I have ever heard one."

Gandalf sighed heavily, "Yes, and I do not like it... It may have nothing to do with Peregrin's foolish stone, but probably something has been disturbed that would have been better left quiet. Pray, do nothing of the kind again! Let us hope we shall get some rest without further trouble."

Gandalf then turned an angry gaze onto the guilty halfling, "You, Pippin, can go on the first watch, as a reward."

The morose hobbit sat by the door and Branwen only spared a neutral glance towards him as she scratched three times in a column faintly across the door seam—'Outer Fence of Barricade'.

It was more of an enchantment than a ward and not powerful at all, even when she cast it with her staff, but it should keep the doors locked from the prying fingers of Gollum. It would have to be opened with brute strength.

With that done, she laid out her bedroll and fell asleep quickly.

҉

Branwen was surprised to be awakened some seven hours later by Gandalf. He appeared as if he had not slept at all, despite having put Pippin on watch. If she remembered right, it had been her turn for a part of the watch last night. When questioned, Gandalf revealed he had not slept and instead had lain down for about an hour, mulling over their choices before them, before sending Pippin to bed and sitting up and smoking on his pipe in thought.

Gandalf said to them, "And during my watch, I have made up my mind. I do like the feel of the middle way and I do not like the smell of the left-hand way—there is foul air down there or I am no guide. It is time we began to climb again."

Branwen broke the enchantment on the door, still Seeing the wandering thread of the Ring that led back to Gollum, before she followed from the rear next to Aragorn as they descended upward. She was glad that Gandalf had not chosen downward again and was glad to leave the deeper Shadow behind.

While it was a sharp stairway at first, the upward way became gentler quickly and seemed to snake upward in large curving turns. The floors and walls were in much better condition as they climbed and soon there were no paths to take off of the widening road. Gandalf continued ahead, more confidence in his step, and his dim staff light guided them in the darkness while Branwen's little floating wisp kept their feet lit.

Eight hours passed but Branwen was feeling much better. The Shadow did not seem as dark here in the Unseen and it allowed her to rely on her Sight more. The little tendril of blackness from the Ring still extended behind them from Frodo, so she knew that Gollum followed without having to peer back.

After, some twenty miles or so along the road, the Hobbits were exhausted, but this had been good progress and Branwen felt much better from yesterday. Frodo had just raised the idea of stopping soon when they passed through a great archway and were met with utter blackness that extended outward in all directions away from the door. The air was cold…but it fresher.

Gandalf looked quite happy with himself and said, "I chose the right way. At last, we are coming to the habitable parts and I believe that we are not far now from the Eastern side. But we are high up, a good deal higher than the Dimrill Gate, unless I am mistake. From the feeling of the air, we must be in a wide hall. Branwen, let us now risk a little of real light, if just for a brief moment."

Branwen stepped forward next to Gandalf and breathed power into her little wisp with her Voice as Gandalf raised his staff. Together their small lights grew bright and revealed, for just a breath, a vast ceiling a hundred or more feet above their heads and rows of beautifully carved pillars that supported it down the middle of the grand hall. Each of the four great walls of the massive chamber boasted its own massive archway.

Gandalf lowered his staff and Branwen allowed the magic of her light to dim back down. She was grateful that she had become much more comfortable with the Wyld of Middle Earth over the years. She was not positive that she could have done that without her staff when she first arrived in Middle Earth, even if she had Sindarin and Lókëlambe.

However, Branwen felt it likely that was the brightest she could summon at this point. She was doubtful that she could summon great flashes enough to blind anymore until she had the opportunity in Lórien to craft a new staff with Gandalf. She felt anxious to learn how one bind a staff to the Rhythm of Arda, as the only staffs she knew how to make, without a core, were used to access magic, but were not conduits like her wand-staff had been. She had little need for another access of magic when she could pull on the Wyld directly herself and she also had the Shards of Sorrow to pull from.

Gandalf told the Company, "That is all that I shall venture on for the present. There used to be great windows on the mountain side and shafts leading out to the light in the upper reaches of the Mines. I think we have reached them now, but it is night outside again and we cannot tell until morning.

If I am right, tomorrow we may actually see the morning peeping in. But in the meanwhile, we had better go no further. Let us rest, if we can.

Things have gone well so far and the greater part of the dark road is over. But we are not through yet, and it is a long way down to the Gates that open on the world."

As they settled down into a corner of the great room, as far away from the empty archways and yawning darkness as they could, Branwen was happy to know the cardinal directions again for her ward. With Gollum behind them and whatever else might me prowling, she would like as strong of a barrier as possible, even if it were weak compared to what it should have been.

As she had one of the watches that night, she laid down as Gimli lightened the mood a bit with a song in response to the Hobbits' pondering of the great hall and what it would have looked like with all the Dwarves that should be here to fill it.

As she dozed closer to slumber, Branwen heard the true value of Moria and why the Dwarves had delved so deep—the roots under Caradhras were rich in mithril—true silver.

҉

She was woken by Legolas' hand on her shoulder, "Lady Branwen, it's your turn for the watch."

Branwen sat up. Four hours was not a lot of time for a normal woman, but she felt rested and awake. She nodded as she stood up and asked, "Any concerns?"

The Elf-prince shook his head, "None that I could see…though I thought I might have heard something once or twice. But I dared not go off to investigate."

Branwen nodded, her thoughts moving to Gollum, "I'll keep an ear out."

Legolas nodded and went to lie down and rest. Whether he would truly sleep or be closer to meditation, she did not know. She did understand that, while Elves could forego sleep, they felt better with true sleep.

She Saw that the wandering tendril from the Ring extended across the hall and to the Western archway, the one that they had come from. Branwen imagined Gollum was just around the corner. She was curious if he was sleeping or merely resting to avoid missing them when they went on. She felt the weight of the sword on her hip and wondered if it was truly wise to let him be.

Branwen would decide that more fully after they left the long dark of Moria.

Two hours passed and it was Gimli's watch. She had to shake the Dwarf and greeted him with a smile, "Good morning, Gimli. You've the last watch for this night."

Gimli ducked his head, "Of course! Thank you."

While not needing the rest, Branwen decided to take advantage and returned to her bedroll. Her back was against the wall and she had not noticed that Aragorn had bedded down near her feet, as if to ensconce her in the corner. She was not sure if he meant anything by his placement, but her heart, treacherously she thought, felt hopeful that he had.

Branwen tucked under her blanket as a sense of shame followed that thought, Arwen's smiling face in her mind's eye.

҉

Aragorn woke up, his eyes taking in the sitting form of Gimli at the edge of their group. The others still appeared asleep. His eyes wandered, nearly of their own accord, to Branwen's sleeping form. Her hair was splayed out in a sheet of darkness that was warm as opposed to hollow and cold like the air around.

Something tickled his nose as cool air came from the Eastern doorway into their corner. The draft seemed to have passed across Branwen's first before coming to him. Her hair loosed as it was, the wind had picked up her scent reminiscent of cloves and fragrant wood smoke.

It was how…home should smell. He rested with his eyes closed in the darkness as he allowed her scent to relieve the tension that had entered him since they had come into Moria. Aragorn did not allow himself to entertain thoughts better left unsaid…but he could not deny the relief it brought him.

҉

The Third Age – January 15th, 3019

Branwen was woken by soft voices. Opening her eyes, she saw that the grand hall was dimly illuminated entirely by soft and distant sunlight that appeared to be come down from shafts about the Eastern archway and through the Northern archway.

She had not realized how much she missed the sun until she had no option for it.

Frodo appeared to be the last one sleeping, even as she remained laying on her bedroll. Aragorn, still sitting near her feet, saw she was awake and smiled, "Good morning. We have a little bit of daylight it seems."

Branwen sighed, "Yes…I suppose that means I should get up."

She stood up and begin to roll up her bedroll before placing it her bag. She took some dried venison and cheese, as Gimli was handing out, and did not wait long before the last sleeping member woke up himself.

As Frodo sat up, Gandalf greeted, "Good morning! For morning it is again at last. I was right, you see. We are high up on the East side of Moria. Before today is over, we ought to find the Great Gates and see the waters of the Mirrormere lying in the Dimrill Dale before us."

Gimli nodded, "I shall be glad. I have looked on Moria, and it is very great, but it has become dark and dreadful. And we have found no sign of my kindred. I doubt now that Balin ever came here."

Branwen would be glad to leave the Shadow of Moria behind and was hopeful that they would avoid the nameless evil of Moria—whatever it was.

After their quick breakfast, Gandalf announced, "We are tired, but we shall rest better when we are outside. I think none of us wish to spend another night in Moria."

Boromir agreed, "No indeed! Which way shall we take? Through the Eastward arch?"

Gandalf hummed, "Maybe. But I do not know yet exactly where we are. Unless I am quite astray, I believe that we are above and to the North of the Great Gates. It may not be easy to find the right road down to them. The Eastern arch will probably prove to be the way we must take, but before we make up our minds, we ought to look about us. Let us go towards that light in the North door. If we could find a window, it would help, but I fear that the light comes only down deep shafts."

That decided, they walked through the Northern archway and into a wide corridor. The glow of light grew stronger and it appeared to come from a room off to the right through a half-ajar stone door. Through it, there was a shaft of light that entered a square chamber. The light would have been considered dim outside of Moria, but, after the long hours of darkness, it was near blinding.

There was deep dust on the floor that covered debris lying within that was inscrutable while her eyes adjusted. In the center of the room was single solid raised platform of white stone, about waist high. Branwen frowned even as Frodo said aloud what she had been thinking, "It looks like a tomb."

The curious Hobbit stepped forward to the stone sarcophagus as Gandalf joined him. Gandalf reported, "These are Daeron's Runes, such as were used of old in Moria. Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves—'Balin son of Fundin Lord of Moria'."

Branwen felt a bit of sympathy seeing Gimli draw his hood to cover his face as grief was clear. Frodo said quietly, "He is dead then. I feared it was so."

As the Company stood silent for a bit in respect of Gimli's kin and some having a personal relationship with this Dwarf. As they did, Branwen realized that the debris within the deep dust was none other than bones, broken Dwarf weapons…and crude Orc blades.

Aside from the entrance that they came through, there was another smaller door opposite and beneath the shaft of light within the chamber. The others began to spread out, Gandalf asking them to look for any record of what had happened here.

Other than the sarcophagus, there were stone shelves carved into the side of the room bearing the broken remains of chests that had likely been looted by the Orcs that had raided this chamber. It was among these that Gandalf located an old book—beaten, slashed, partially burned, and stained with black blood.

Gandalf carefully laid it onto the sarcophagus and began to leaf through it, Frodo and Gimli at his side. Branwen leaned up against the side of the chamber with Aragorn. Gandalf and Gimli personally knew this Balin and, from what she remembered, so had Bilbo, likely meaning Frodo knew a great deal of the dead Dwarf. Those three were the most invested.

In truth, while she was sympathetic, Branwen wished that they would move on soon. She did not like the idea of stopping more than they needed; especially with Gollum behind them.

At that thought, she opened her Sight…and saw the wandering tendril from the Ring was gone. She blinked in surprise. Had Gollum given up? Branwen felt a sense of unease and gripped the hilt of her sword tighter.

Gandalf then spoke, bringing back her attention, "It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk. I guess that it began with their coming to Dimrill Dale almost thirty years ago—the pages seem to 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. Listen to this!

'We drove out the Orcs from the Great Gate and guard'—I think, the next word is blurred and burned, probably 'room'—'We slew many in the bright'—I think—'sun in the Dale. Floi was killed by an arrow. He slew the Great.' Then there is a blur followed by 'Floi under grass near Mirrormere.'

The next line or two I cannot read. Then comes 'We have taken the twenty-first hall of North end to dwell in. There is' I cannot read what. A 'shaft' is mentioned. Then 'Balin has set up his seat in the Chamber of Mazarbul.'"

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

Gandalf hummed, "Well, I can read no more for a long way, except the word 'gold' and 'Durin's Axe' and something 'helm'. Then 'Balin is now Lord of Moria'. That seems to end a chapter. After some stars another hand begins, and I can see 'We found true-silver', and later the word 'well-forged', then something… I have it! 'Mithril' and the last two lines 'Óin to seek for the upper armories of Third Deep', something 'go Westwards', and blur 'to Hollin gate'."

Branwen thought this rather tedious and whispered to Aragorn, "Should we not be moving on? I understand the wish to understand, but cannot this book be examined later…perhaps after we've exited Moria?"

Aragorn replied just as quietly, "There may be valuable information within that may let us know about any pitfalls ahead. Let us trust in Gandalf's instinct."

Branwen sighed but said no more as Gandalf set some loose leaves of paper outside the book. He continued, "There are several pages of the same sort, rather hastily written and much damaged, but I can make little of them in this light. Now there must be a number of leaves missing, because they begin to be number 'five', the fifth year of the colony, I suppose."

Branwen muffled her sigh of annoyance. That only left some twenty-five potential years left.

Gandalf continued, unaware of her mounting frustration, "Let me see! No, they are too cut and stained—I cannot read them. We might do better in sunlight. Wait! Here is something—a bold hand using an Elvish script."

Gimli leaned forward to peer around Gandalf, "That would be Ori's hand. He could write well and speedily and often used the Elvish characters."

Gandalf's voice became grim, "I fear he had ill tidings to record in a fair hand. The first clear word is 'sorrow', but the rest of the line is lost, unless it ends in 'estre'. Yes, it must be 'yestre' followed by 'day being the tenth of November, 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 that I can hardly make anything out, but I think I can read 'We have barred the gates', and then 'can hold them off long if', and then perhaps 'horrible' and 'suffer'.

Poor Balin! He seems to have kept the title he took for less than five years. I wonder what happened afterwards, but there is no time to puzzle out the last few pages. Here is the last page of all."

Branwen nearly breathed a sigh of relief, until the Wizard's face became stony. Gandalf said, "It is grim reading. I fear their end was cruel. Listen!

'We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and second hall. Frár and Lóni and Náli fell there' Then there are fours line smeared so that I can only read 'went five days ago'.

The last lines run 'the pool is up to the wall of Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Óin. We cannot get out. The end comes', and then 'drums, drums in the deep'… I wonder what that means. The last thing written is in a trailing scrawl of Elf-letters—'They are coming'.

There is nothing more."

Branwen drew her sword slowly as the rest pieced together what she had already realized. This had been the place of the Dwarves last stand. She would not be putting her sword away until they departed Moria. If this had taken place twenty-five years ago and the Orcs were of number enough to slay a company of Dwarves, that meant the Orcs of Moria were not so broken and scattered as Gandalf had said they should be.

Gimli contemplated one of the lines aloud, "'We cannot get out'. It is well for us that the pool sunk a little and that the Watcher was sleeping down at the Southern end."

Branwen replied, "Indeed… In any case, may we be off quickly, Gandalf? I have no desire to remain here any longer. The sooner out of Moria, the better."

Gandalf nodded absentmindedly in agreement, even as he thought aloud, "They seem to have made a last stand by both doors, but there were not many left by that time. So ended the attempt to retake Moria! It was valiant but foolish. The time is not yet come.

Now, I fear, we must say farewell to Balin son of Fundin. Here he must lie in the halls of his fathers. We will take this book, the Book of Mazarbul, and look at it more closely later. You had better keep it, Gimli, and take it back to Dáin, if you get the chance. It will interest him, though it will grieve him deeply. For now, let us go! Branwen is correct. The morning is passing!"

Boromir asked, "Which way shall we go?"

Gandalf said, "Back to the hall. But our visit to this room has not been in vain. I now know where we are. This be, as Gimli says, the Chamber of Mazarbul and the hall must be the Twenty-First hall of the North-end.

Therefore, we should leave by the Eastern arch of the hall, bear right and South, and go downwards. The Twenty-First Hall should be on the Seventh Level, that is six above the level of the Gates. Come now! Back to the hall!"

Branwen was happy for that little bit of good news…

Doom, doom!

…and her blood ran cold, as a drum sounded in the deep far beneath them and it felt as if the floor rolled. Opening her Sight, she Saw the Shadow of Moria had thickened greatly around them and was becoming darker.

Doom, doom!

There then came the sound of a powerful horn from the hall answered by hooting, howling, and battle cries to precipitate the sound of pounding feet.

Branwen ran to the door as she yelled, "Shit!"

Legolas called, "They are coming!"

Gimli echoed the book, "We cannot get out."

Gandalf cursed, "Trapped! Why did I delay? Here we are, caught, just as they were before. But I was not here then. We will see what—…"

Doom, doom!

Aragorn ordered, "Slam the doors and wedge them! And keep your packs on as long as you can! We may get a chance to cut our way out yet!"

Branwen was already quickly scratching seven repeating phrases of the barricade enchantment into the back of the Western door that they had entered from with her hunting knife. Boromir was grabbing broken shafts and swords from the dust to wedge the doors.

Gandalf countermanded, "No! We must not get shut in! Keep the East door ajar! We will go that way, if we get a chance!"

The Company drew their weapons as Branwen finished her last line. Boromir ran up to her, setting his shoulder against the back of the door to close it, when Gandalf said, "Wait a moment! Do not close it yet!"

Branwen wanted to scream as Gandalf called out of the open door loudly, "Who comes here to disturb the rest of Balin Lord of Moria!?"

The only answer were more blows of horns and cruel laughter and howling. Gandalf then leaned out, his staff light flashing brightly, before he pulled back to report as arrows whistled by, "There are Orcs, very many of them! And some are large and evil—black Uruks of Mordor! For the moment, they are hanging back, but there is something else there. A great cave-troll, I think, or more than one. There is no hope for escape that way!"

Branwen slammed her own shoulder into the door and forced it closed by herself, as Boromir nearly lost his balance. She chanted, "OUTER FENCE OF BARRICADE!"

She pushed everything she could into the enchantment ward…but it was simply not that strong. Branwen resolved to work out something more effective at a later date. By the Valar, she wished she still had her staff!

Boromir replied to Gandalf's words, "And no hope at all, if the come at the other door as well!"

Aragorn replied, peering into the darkness outside the Eastern Door, "There is no sound outside here yet. The passage on this side plunges straight down a stair—it plainly does not lead back towards the hall. But it is no good flying blindly this way with pursuit just behind. We cannot block the door. Its key is gone, the lock is broken, and it opens inwards.

We must do something to delay the enemy first. We will make them fear the Chamber of Mazarbul!"

Branwen yelled, the Shadow of Moria nearly black upon them, "Stupid men! The door is barricaded, if for a few minutes! I can do the same to the other door to buy us time! There is no glory to be felt when you die! Let's go!"

Aragorn fought back, "We must drive them back! We cannot run ahead with Orcs at our heels!"

Gandalf concurred, "He is right, Branwen!"

Branwen growled, "Let it be on your heads then, should any perish! I will scribe the Eastern door before they break through the other then if we must fly quickly!"

She rushed past Aragorn and onto the landing of the Eastern door. It was as quiet as he had reported, and she was working quickly with her hunting knife on the stone. She scribed nine times as quickly as she could in groups of three to create a triangle. That was the best she could do.

Branwen slotted away her knife and rushed back into the chamber, sword in hand, just in time to watch Frodo stab his short sword into a troll foot that had wedged through the door. Her locking enchantment had not stood up to the strength of a troll.

The troll's foot jerked back with a cry as Boromir closed the door shut again and she called out with her Voice to re-empower the blacked Sindarin on the door. Aragorn yelled with encouragement to Frodo, "One for the Shire! The hobbit's bite is deep! You have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo!"

It seemed the attackers had giving up on opening the door, her locking ward and Boromir's barricade of old weapons across the door back helping. Instead, there was the sound of hammer and it seemed they planned to come through the door.

Branwen gripped her sword with fury, disgust…and anticipation. Despite herself, she felt a surge of adrenaline and bloodlust. She knew that her eyes were burning bright as her Voice seeped into her words, causing them to reverb lightly, "The filth will regret this day…"

Then the door was broken through and Orcs came streaming through. She ran forward next to Aragorn and Boromir and danced—Cýron was little more than flash of silver as her blade bit deep into shoddy Orc armor and her cries echoed with her fury, the Orcs regarding her with fear as her Voice hewed as deep into their minds as Cýron did their flesh.

Arrows flew from behind, courtesy of Legolas, as Gimli seemed determined to defend Balin's tomb by cutting away at kneecaps with his broad axe.

Cýron cut through the neck of one, into the heart of another, and then down through shoulder, collarbone, and into the chest of a third. Branwen kicked that Orc of her blade, driving his corpse back onto two more as she cried, "Howling Flame!"

While it was no river of fire, it was closer to a modern flamethrower and it set the Orcs within its grasp alight with screams of pain.

The Orcs' spirit seemed broken and Cýron disemboweled another fleeing before they had escaped out of the room. Nineteen Orcs laid dead in the chamber, six felled by herself. Only Sam appeared injured from a deep scratch on his scalp.

Gandalf called, "Now is the time! Let us go, before the troll returns!"

As they turned to flee, a large orc-chieftain, nearly as tall as a man and even broader, leapt through the broken door clad in chainmail and carrying a huge shield and great spear. He roared and pushed Boromir to the ground with his shield before ducking under and past Aragorn's strike, other Orcs following in after him. The orc-chieftain thrust its spear at Branwen.

҉

Aragorn felt his breathe catch, eyes wide in horror as the broad spear head raced towards Branwen's ribs.

Then she danced to the side, her emerald eyes burning like the sun as she glared at the orc. The orc-chieftain then dropped his weapons with a terrible scream. Black blood poured from his nose and eyes as it howled and Branwen's sword flickered silver before the orc-chieftain was silenced.

The severed head rolled away as the headless corpse fell to its knees and down.

The Orcs, seeing the fall of their chieftain, scream in fear and fled as Aragorn hefted forward Andúril to catch one last one in the spine before they fled completely. His eyes went in wonder to Branwen.

What a show!

҉

Branwen flicked her sword clean. The orc-chieftain had made the mistake of looking her in the eyes and his mind was obliterated by her Sight—a brute force spear of thought, fury, and magic torn it into ribbons.

It was only simple clean-up after that.

Gandalf yelled, "Now! Now is the chance! Run!"

Branwen ran to the Eastern door, sidestepping corpses, as Legolas grabbed Gimli by the collar to haul him away from Balin's tomb. The Shadow of Moria was black now and her Sight could not pierce it any longer.

She ran through door, calling her Witchlight with a quick word, and ushering the rest through. Boromir was the last and she pushed it shut, he threw his arm into it as well. A few Words with her Voice and the written words of locking flashed.

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

Aragorn cried back, "We cannot leave you to hold the door alone!"

Gandalf's voice brooked no argument, "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here. Branwen, light their way and keep them safe! Go!"

Branwen needed no further instruction, her Witchlight grew stronger to cast proper light, and she ordered, "Swords out, lads! Let's move!"

҉

They went quickly down the stairs with light to guide them. At the base, Aragorn held them for a few minutes, his eyes on the dim light of Gandalf's staff for above them. Branwen was just about to tell him they needed to move, when there was a flash of white light and the sound of breaking stone and falling rubble. The drum that had been beating so constantly suddenly stopped.

Gandalf came sprinting down the stairs and promptly fell to his hands and knees, "Well! That's over!"

The Wizards came to his feet with great effort before he said, "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!

Branwen, your light will be appreciated as I am too shaken to provide any. Where are you, Gimli? Come ahead with me! Keep close behind, all of you!"

They hurried along the passage and descended lower, flight after flight of stairs. Gandalf appeared too worn to move very quickly, leaning on his staff, and the Hobbits appeared just as weary—though Branwen suspected that was far more mental.

As they descended, Boromir said to her, "Your skill with a blade should be as noted as your magic!"

Aragorn nodded, "Indeed! I can see the training that Elrohir has given you. His movements are the same, though his more graceful from decades of work."

Branwen chuckled, "Well, I have mostly only trained and very rarely have I had the chance to put my sword to true use. What can I say except I hate Goblins, Orcs, or whatever else they may be called."

It was only a short while later when Gandalf halted and said, "It is getting hot! We ought to be down at least to the level of the Gates now. Soon, I think we should look for a left-hand turn to take us East. I hope that it is not far. I am very weary. I must rest here a moment, even if all the Orcs ever spawned are after us."

Gimli helped the Wizard down to the ground and asked, "What happened away up there at the door? Did you meet the beater of the drums?"

Gandalf answered heavily, "I do not know. But I found myself suddenly faced by something that I have not met before. I could think of thing to do but put my own shutting-spell on the door to reinforce Branwen's.

I know many, but to do things of that kind rightly requires time, and even then the door can be broken with strength, as the Orcs had broken through Branwen's spell on the Western door.

As I stool 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 as they seemed to be talking in their own hideous language. All I caught was ghâsh—that is '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 to open the door and then it perceived me and the spells

What it was, I cannot guess, but I have never felt such a challenge! The counter-spell was terrible. It nearly broke me and Branwen's spell was nearly shattered as well. The door nearly opened and I had to speak a word of Command. Between the last strength of Branwen's spell, my Command, and the magic of the being on the other side, the strain proved too great.

The door shattered and I saw something dark…like a cloud was blocking out all the light inside, before I was thrown down the stairs. The walls gave and the roof of the chamber as well. I am afraid Balin is buried deep and maybe something else there too. I cannot say. But at least the path behind us is completely blocked."

Branwen asked, frustration coloring her voice, "Was it the nameless evil that you refuse to speak of?"

Gandalf looked annoyed with her and said, "…It seems likely. As I said, I have my suspicions of what it is, but I will not speak of them aloud, for fear of summoning it. If that was the creature I encountered, let us hope that it is dead and buried now."

After a short break, they went on. Soon, Gimli said, "I think that there is a light ahead. But it is not daylight. It is red. What can it be?"

Gandalf murmured, "Ghâsh! I wonder if that was what they meant—that the lower levels are on fire? Still, we can only go on."

Branwen Saw the Shadow was dark before them and muttered, "I don't think whatever Gandalf met is dead…"

Only Aragorn seemed to hear her and he gripped his sword tighter in response.

Soon, the flickering light of fire was obvious to all of them and they came to a road that they moved along until they reached an archway, through which the red light originated. Gandalf motioned for them to wait but Branwen stepped forward to See, the heat of the flame ahead burning her face.

It was a massive hall, even larger than the one higher up near Balin's tomb, with two rows of colossal pillars carved like trees that held up the ceiling. The far side was cloaked in darkness but, closer to them, was a gaping crevice from which the malicious red flame rose up.

The Shadow of Moria was thick, black, and fueling the fire. She said, "Gandalf, the Shadow of the Unseen is fueling this. I think your friend is still alive."

Gandalf grimaced and turned back to the Company, "There is some new devilry here devised for our welcome, no doubt. But I know now 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, away 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 rode, through the First Hall, and out! But come and look!"

The rest of the Company took in the hall as Gandalf said, "If we had come by the main road down from the upper halls, we would have been trapped here. Let us hope that the fire now lies between us and pursuit. Come! There is no time to lose!"

Doom, doom!

Doom, doom!

The infernal drumbeat was back, quaking the floor beneath their feet, as there was an uproar of Orcs from the darkness on the far end of the hall, on the other side of the flames. The flames seemed to dance with anticipation and the Shadow was becoming more and more agitated.

Gandalf commanded, "Now for the last race! If the sun is shining outside, we may still escape! After me!"

The Wizard cut left and sped away, his vigor returned momentarily and Branwen followed swiftly next to Aragorn. There was a sudden cry from the darkness beyond the flames and a whistle as singular arrows began to try and reach them.

Boromir laughed with glee, "They did not expect this! The fire has cut them off! They are on the wrong side!"

Gandalf pointed, "Look ahead! The Bridge is near! It is dangerous and narrow!"

Branwen began cursing under her breath as her eyes took in the "bridge". It was a thin and curved arch with no railing or guards of any type across a great chasm of darkness over fifty feet wide. It was so narrow, they would have to go across single file.

Gandalf came to a halt, his hands directing them as he ordered, "Lead the way, Gimli! Pippin and Merry next! Straight on and up the stair beyond the door!"

Arrows began to fall on them and Branwen cast them away, as best she could, with a weak wind. There appeared to be hundreds of Orcs baying for blood with upraised blades beyond the fire as the drum continued to shake the ground. Two trolls then marched up and threw down large stone slabs to allow the Orcs to cross over.

Then the Orcs suddenly parted like with cries of fear and Branwen nearly vomited as Legolas let out a cry. The Shadow of Moria swirled heavy, black, thick, and noxious like tar and it was all centered on a massive figure that stood closer to ten feet tall.

Within the World of Light, it was a massive shadow cloaked with power and terror. Within the Unseen, it was like the heart of a poisonous volcano spewing toxic ash. It leapt across the fissure of flame and the dark flames, as its own creation, clung to it like a halo. It had grabbed the flames as it passed and now held a blade of fire in one hand and a multi-tailed lash in the other.

Legolas yelled in terror, "A Balrog!"

Gimli dropped his axe in fear, "Durin's Bane!"

Besides her, Gandalf commented darkly as he leaned on his staff, "A Balrog. Now I understand. What an evil fortune! And I am already weary."

Branwen declared, "Together then!"

Gandalf rebuked her instantly, just as the Balrog began to rush towards them with Orcs following behind, "No! Over the bridge! Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you! I must hold the narrow way! Fly!"

The others had crossed already but Branwen yelled back, "I can help!"

Gandalf roared back, "Go! You must protect them if I cannot!"

Branwen felt tears of frustration and anger but ran across the bridge with Gandalf just behind her. She stood next to Aragorn and Boromir just at the other end of the Bridge, her sword drawn, but feeling helpless as Gandalf held his ground in the center of the Bridge itself, staff in one hand while Glamdring was in his other.

The Balrog, terrible in the World of Light but even more so in the Unseen, reached the Bridge. It stopped at the end of the Bridge and a shadow flung outward from its back like wings that appeared like rotten meat in her Sight. The Balrog cracked its whip as flame came from its maw.

Gandalf barked at the Balrog, "You cannot pass!"

The drumbeat stopped and the Orcs fell silent. Gandalf continued, his voice growing in strength, "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 Udûn! Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass!"

The Balrog's flame died in response, but its Shadow, like poisonous and maggot-infested meat in her Sight, grew as its wings spread outward and it stepped onto the Bridge itself. Gandalf appeared wreathed in Light and Fire now in the Unseen, as if his human form appeared strained to contain him.

From the Balrog's shadow, his blade of fire stabbed forward and Gandalf parried with Glamdring with a clang that echoed like iron bells across the chasm. The Balrog's sword was scattered to embers as the Wizard seemed to sway for a moment.

Gandalf steadied himself and declared, "YOU CANNOT PASS!"

The Balrog leapt forward just as Branwen surged ahead, Aragorn and Boromir half a step behind her with battle cries to support Gandalf with blades. Branwen's left hand was already sparking with electricity as she prepared to use her most powerful spell for singular opponents, her Voice already vibrating the stone beneath her feet.

Gandalf beat them all though as his staff struck the Bridge itself, broken apart by the spell cast through it, and a blinding flash and roar of white flame split the Bridge just as the Balrog's feet touched down. The Bridge broke beneath it and it plunged downward with a cry that sent Branwen to her knees, just short of the Bridge itself.

Quicker than the blink of an eyes, its fiery lash latch onto Gandalf and pulled the Wizard nearly off the Bridge. Gandalf scrambled at the edge with hands but could not grip.

In the instant before he fell, he commanded, "Fly, you fools!"

And he was gone into Darkness.

҉

Boromir watched in disbelief as Gandalf fell into the chasm. Aragorn's command cleared his mind, "Branwen, Boromir! We must flee! Hurry!"

Branwen was on her knees for a moment before she lifted her face, shining with terrible light as her eyes blazed like fire, and she screamed a wordless roar of fury that howled across the chasm, shaking the air and causing the ground to roll far greater than the drumbeat had ever before as the stone beneath her cracked and splintered.

The remaining section of Bridge crumbled under her fury and the Orcs seemed to cower and scramble on the other side.

Boromir felt true terror in his heart as he looked at Branwen and saw a glimmer of the Truth beneath her fair face—this was being nearly so terrible as the Balrog that Gandalf had cast into Darkness.

Aragorn crouched down, unafraid, and puled her up by the arm, "Branwen! We must go! Do not let his sacrifice be in vain!"

Branwen seemed conflicted for a moment before she turned sharply away from the chasm and up the stairs. Aragorn called, "Boromir!"

Boromir swallowed and raced after. As they reached the rest of the Company, all in various states of shock and grief, Aragorn called, "Come! I will lead you now! We must obey his last command! Follow me!"

Boromir guarded the rear and noticed that Branwen was up front with Aragorn, her form nearly vibrating with fury. It seemed, while he feared her anger, the Hobbits gravitated towards her, weeping with grief. That they went to her soothed his heart a bit, as he doubted such timid creatures would come close if she were liable to lash out at them.

They entered a large hall with great shafts of true daylight pouring in and then out of the broken Great Gates into sunlight. There in the shadow of some pillars was a small group of Orcs lying in wait. They sprung up with weapons draw.

"Gwaewdring!"

Her Voice rolled like true thunder, the ground splintered beneath her again, as it appeared a Veil of twilight covered her raven hair. From her left hand, as she still carried her bloody sword in her right, a bolt of lightning struck the orc-captain before they had even come within twenty paces. The thunder of its presence echoed her Voice.

The Orc fell to the ground dead and sizzling as if roasted over open flame for a long time. The other Orcs threw down their weapons and fled in terror.

Branwen's form seemed to fade back to her normal self and she ran ahead, Aragorn bounding up next to her without hesitation. The rest of the Company followed with little more than a pause.

Boromir felt like he truly understood for the first time the terrible power this fair maiden carried within her. To cast the fury of the gods themselves from her fingertips and smite a creature dead in an instant, it was not something a Mortal Man like him could ever hope to do.

And, as they had lost their Wizard, their Witch was now infinitely more precious.

҉

Branwen felt only burning anger within her—at the Balrog for dragging down Gandalf, at the Orcs for corralling them and chasing them about Moria, at Gandalf for refusing her help, and at herself for not doing something sooner.

She hardly noticed as they flew away from the Walls of Moria and into the Dimrill Dale in the sunlight of midday. The sky was beautiful blue with white clouds, and she felt as if it mocked the sacrifice of Gandalf.

Finally, when it became apparent that there was no pursuit, the Company came to a brief halt. The Hobbits collapsed in sobs while the others drew away in silence. Instead, Branwen glared at the Walls of Moria, seeing the single ribbon of smoke rising from it and all she could think was how unfair everything was.

Branwen whispered, finding a core of powerful grief beneath the anger, "That self-righteous fool…"

Translations:

Gwaewdring – Storm Hammer