𝟬𝟮𝟭 ━━ way down deep


*。☆。
★。\|/。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ way down deep ❫ ❞
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

═════════ ☆•° °•☆ ═════════
CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ FOLLOW ME THEN
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE ・゚: *・゚:* ˚ ₊ ♡
the third age ─── year 3019
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 ❞

*✧ ─── THE SHADOWS BECKON HER INSIDE, SWALLOWING HER WHOLE AS THE COLD AIR BRUSHES AGAINST HER SKIN IN AN UNWELCOME EMBRACE. Every step they took leaves eerie echoes chasing them like whispers of the death pleading for passage to light. Every path they chose was cracked and narrow. Erosion had carved away at the structures, like claws of dangerous creatures seeking freedom.

Guided by the pale light of Gandalf's staff, Gyda's sight was limited and she could only catch glimpses of the once mighty Moria. Only the imagination could paint a picture of the once mighty Dwarven halls. Despite the words of pride Gimli had spoken about Moria, it was hard to imagine the comfort of warm fires burning in these walls with the welcoming smell of cooking food and laughter. Only a haunted castle was left.

The desolation felt similar to the sight she had witnessed as young Ellon during Sauron's time of ruling. When terror ruled over Middle-Earth as millions were slaughter in the war. And now, like a cruel twisted joke played by fate, history was repeating itself. Fear gnaws at her heart at the thought, at the mere idea of failing what they set out to do. For the ruins of Moria offered a glimpse into the future of her own home should their mission fail. And every other kingdom of Middle-Earth.

Shaking away those bleak thoughts, Gyda breathes in deeply, closing her eyes for a moment before completely banishing any thoughts of failure from her mind. Instead she focused on the narrow paths that demanded they walk in a single file. Gandalf in front, his grey hair almost looking silver beneath the light of his staff. Behind him walks Gimli, who, despite the grief displayed so clearly on his face, was looking around as though he'd stumbled into a tale of old. Then comes Frodo and the other three Hobbits. They seem to be doing slightly better than they did back on the mountain pass but still the fear lingering within their eyes was unmistakable by the hesitant steps they take, and the visible way they flinch at unsuspected noises. Behind them, directly in front of Elgarain, walks Legolas, who looks much more tense than she'd ever seen him before. The rigidness does not suit him, Gyds thinks.

Boromir walks behind the High-Queen, his breathing shallow and at the rear, behind her Aragorn marches on, grim and silent like a shadowsz

So, they march through the darkness, following twisting paths and chiseled arches. Until Gandalf comes to a halt, something seems to have caught his eye. He places his hand against the wall and the light of his staff illuminated silver veins crawling through the black rocks.

"The wealth of Moria is not in gold or jewels but mithril."

He turned to face the darkness stretching out to their right and with a startled beat of her heart, the ground was not visible from this height. Instead, the Fellowship can only see endless stairs and chains holding the former working contraptions together. Countless grooves had been chiseled within the rock in search of the precious mithril. Now all there was left was dust.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him," Gandalf says as he picks up the pace once again.

"Oh, that was a kingly gift!" Gimli speaks with awe.

"Yes," Gandalf agrees. "I never told him but it's worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

Gyda's eyes fall on Frodo has he nervously fiddles with the collar of his shirt.

The path they were following was starting to descend. It went steadily down and as they walk, the air grew hot and stifling but not yet entirely unpleasant.

The mines of Moria were vast and intricate. Which only added to her reference of Gandalf, who seemed to guide them based on far-off memories of a journey that came once before. But the times had changed the mines.

"I have no memory of this place."

They all tried to hide it but the tremor of unease that rippled through the company was unmistakable. For a moment they all stand there, hoping the right path would be revealed shortly. But the silence continues to last and when Gandalf takes a seat on a boulder in the middle of the path, it was more than clear their journey would be delayed for a while.

"Let us sit and rest and have something to eat," Frodo offers and as though his words had been a signal, Pippin's stomach growls.

Gyda chuckles at the sound.

Frodo's proposal was welcomed by all and the Hobbits quickly start unpacking their food while Aragorn manages to get a fire going. There was nothing like a Hobbit meal in dreary moments such as these. The flames flickering happily, painting dancing shadows on the walls while they warmed the disheartened Fellowship. The warmth and food were more.

Now more than ever, did Gyda miss Gallion. The honey-haired elf would have surely been able to lift the spirits of the most dreary of the company. And more importantly, he could manage to make her feel at ease. As her thoughts drifted through long lost memories and pleasant times, she barely notices Elgarain reach for her bag and procuring a singular piece of parchment.

The sight of it startles Gyda for a moment, but she cannot help the fondness that rises in her chest at the sight—at the memories. Oh how she had hated Elgarain's passion of drawing during their forst journey together.

"I did not know you were a painter, Miss Elgarain," Sam soft voice appears from behind them, sounding almost shy.

Elgarain looks up from her paper, smiling reassuringly. "I am. It's one of the few things in this world that makes me truly happy."

The pure passion in her voice makes Gyda smile.

"Yer not half bad either, lass," Gimli adds as he eyes her drawing through the smoke coming from his pipe. The charcoal lines seemed to hold him captivated. The glory of his people restored on a mere piece of paper.

Elgarain's smile widenes. "That's the second compliment you've given me today, Master Dwarf."

Gimli chokes on his pipe and through his coughing he still manages to grumble with fake protest beneath his breath.

"You should watch your words," Gyda joins in, eyes shining with amusement. "Or we might just start believing you're warming up to our kind."

His coughing only grows louder, drawing a laugh from Elgarain's lips. The sound was like the chiming of tiny bells, ringing pleasantly through the caves, drawing the grey eyes of a ranger to her like a moth is drawn to the flames.

And as her own laughter rings out, she does not notice the smile that grows on the face of the Mirkwood prince.

Letting her eyes rest on the ranger, Gyda notices the admiration that shines in his grey eyes as he observes Elgarain and chuckles. Taking a moment to put away her supplies again, Gyda tightens her green cloak around her body, hoping to capture some extra warmth.

The unease still grows heavy inside her, as the shadows dance on the walls and wind whistles through the halls like a haunting echo from the past. She wonders how the dwarves ever could find a home beneath the rubble of the earth.

A hand is placed on her shoulder, and Gyda looks up to see Boromir standing behind her, a kind smile on his face, as if he senses the worry she exudes. "We should check around the perimeter. Make sure no other foul evil hides close by." He suggests, holding his hand out for her to take.

She grins, a little relieved to have something to do, and takes his hand in her own. With ease he hauls her to her feet, and not long after the others notices the commotion, Aragorn gravitates towards them as well.

The ranger whispers something in Boromir's ear and the man nods in confirmation.

Catching Elgarain's worried gaze as she unsheathes her sword, Gyda smiles assuredly at her as she approaches the High-Queen.

"We'll go and make sure nothing has followed us." She leans down to whisper in her ear. "You'll watch over the Hobbits?" Her eyes flicker to Sam and Frodo, quietly sitting by the fire to Merry and Pippin dozing off against a broken pillar.

"Of course I will." Elgarain affirms, hand drifting to her spear.

The wooden glaive Gyda had crafted so long ago in Mirkwood still glistens in the dim light, but it is no longer untouched by danger.

"Stay safe." Elgarain rests her hand above her heart.

"I will."

With a quick understanding, Aragorn, Boromir and Gyda devise a quick plan, dividing the twisting corridors and spread out around the cavern, small rocks scuffling as they climb broken stones and fallen pillars.

Small rocks scrunch beneath her boots, resonating through the caverns. Gyda can only hear herself breathing, and her heart beating steadily in her chest. Gyda uses her glaive for stability, leaning on the beautifully crafted spear to maneuver around difficult paths until she comes upon a long hallway. Statues rise from the walls, most look untouched by the tragedy that has stuck Moria. Some have withered with age, details are less refined, and some cracks run along their stone bodies.

Gyda let's her fingers trail over a particular well crafted statue, its eyes unlike most of the others still hold an unwavering gaze, and whomever made it, clearly captured the fierce spirit.

"may the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks." The blessing leaves her lips like a soft whisper in the common tongue of men. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting the moment sink in before she treks on. The vast hallways stretches on, darkness ahead makes it almost impossible the see the ending.

More statues litter the walls, but the further she walks, the more desolate and tarnished they become. But her heart aches, despite her dislike for the dwarves, when at the end of the hallway, a skeleton lays resting against a pillar. Its armor is dented, and a spear has pierced the metal.

She swallows, and reaches out to grab the wood in a tight grip before yanking it out. She let's the goblin spear clatter to the ground. "Goheno nin"

Taking in the lone dwarf one last time, Gyda spins around the enter the next corridor. This one is smaller, burned out torched litter one side of the wall until it opens into a larger room. Parts of the walls and ceiling have come down, cracked rocks litter around the space.

Footsteps echo behind her and she pauses, hand reached for her sword, before she recognizes the origin and Gyda has to hold back a smile.—and a bit of frustration if she is honest. "Master Hobbit." She calls out.

Silence follows for a moment, before a heavy sigh resounds from behind a particularly large rock.

"How did you know I was there?" Pippin's head peeks out from behind the cracked boulder with a defeated look on his face, one hand gripping the rock, while the other firmly cutches his sword.

Gyda points at her ears, "Elves have been know for their good senses Pippin." She raises a brow at him, continuing, "And I heard Hobbits make for particular stealthy thieves?"

Pippin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, stammering out a response before shrugging in defeat and staring at the ground. He kicks away a small rock, and his slouching figure tugs at her heartstrings.

She sighs, "Follow me then."

His head snaps back up, a beaming grin on his face as she races towards her. In his quick sprint, the overly excited Hobbits barely looks where he's going and before he knows it, he trips over his own feet.

Before he can hit the ground, Gyda grabs the back of his cloak like it's second nature to do so. Pippin hovers halfway over—what uses to be—a set of stairs, staring down a ravine. He swallows nervously before scurrying backwards.

"You're worse than little elflings Master Hobbit." Gyda jests with a teasing tone. "Luckily for use, you're not half bad with sword—now let us go."

Clutching his sword with both hands, Pippin quickly walks up beside the Elleth, admiration glowing in his eyes.

The hobbit had always gravitated easily to the hardened warrior during their days at Rivendell, much to Gyda's dismay, he talked more than he trained—never ending questions on the tip of his tongue, and now, here in the mines of Moria, he was a shadow she did not particular like. But he did remind her of the Elflings back home under her care.

"Were you always so good with a sword?" Pippin questions after they pass another small corridor.

Glancing at Pippin from the corner of her eyes, she can't help but puff out her chest in pride. "I've trained since I was a child—" melancholy fills her, "My father taught me, like his father before him. My family has always been the protectors of the crown."

"That must be hard." He shrugs, and Gyda frowns but he continues before she can question him. "Carrying such a family legacy. Especially in times like these. I quite like my life back in the Shire. Not much to worry about, and me and Merry have plenty of fun--"

His words fade out and her eyes drift to her sword—her father's sword. She suddenly notices the weight of it, like it was never made for her. Like the balance was off. She catches on the small indents in the blade, the small crack in the handle. The pieces had been put back together after the battle, but it looked like it was still uncomplete, like it was still broken.

"—Gyda?"

She blinks, eyes drifting back to Pippin, who stands a couple of feet ahead of her now—when did that happen?

"Are you alright?" Pippin questions.

"Yes, of course—" Gyda hurriedly replies, before sheathing her sword. "We should return, it's not wise to travel further down these mines alone. I fear we might get lost."

Pippin nods, unsurely looking between Gyda and her sword.

She quickly pivots around, Pippin's footsteps echoing behind her as they walk back towards the Fellowship. No more words are exchanged as they do.

The small fire still crackles, only embers remain when they rejoin the group. Boromir and Aragorn are already back, and she nods at them in greeting. Pippin immediately returns back to Merry with an excited grin on his face.

Gyda takes a seat by the fire next to Elgarain who smiles sheepishly at her—but there is also a spark of relief in her eyes at the returned sight of Pippin. "I see you've lost a particular Hobbit." She jests.

A breathy chuckle leaves Elgarain's lips. "I was worried for a moment."

She smirks, "Must be terrifying, when people sneak away beneath the cover of darkness. "

Wordlessly, Elgarain ducks her head, before stealing a glance at Aragorn's figure where he stands talking to Gandalf.

"I don't know what you are talking about Gyda."

Gyda just chuckles, patting the High-Queen's shoulder twice before standing back up to her full height when a scuffling sound resounds from the darkness. She narrows her eyes, squinting to see whatever had made the noise. Her fingers twitch by her side as two glowing eyes blink up at her from the shadows.

Its eyes widens when it notices her and it scurries away back into the oblivion.

On the rock, where the possible paths stretch out before him, Gandalf sits, leaning on his staff, talking to Frodo. The ringbearer looks frightened, and a newfound weight looks to be added to his shoulders.

She frowns at the sight—before to her surprise, Gandalf suddenly stands up with newfound vigor. "It's this way." He exclaims gleefully.

"He's remembered." Merry smiles brightly.

"No." He shakes his head. "but the air doesn't smell as foul down here. If in doubt Meriadoc, always follow your nose." He advised wisely.

In a single line, the Fellowship trails after Gandalf as they descend further down the mines of Moria. Footsteps echo across the walls as they continue their journey.

"Let me risk a little more light." The Grey Wizard whispers.

Gyda's eyes widen at the sight that is revealed in front of her. Whilst the statues and decorated halls she had found earlier were well crafted, nothing could compare to the grandeur that she could see now.

"Behold, the great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

Enormous pillars were erected from the ground, beautifully and intricately decorated and Gyda had to crane her neck to see the ceiling. The room stretched on beyond her sight, and even Gandalf could not lighten the whole space.

"There's an eye opener, and no mistake." Sam speaks softly, awe filled eyes staring at the dwarven-city.

Carefully, and cautiously they continued onward until a sparse bit of light lit up the floor, and caught Gimli's attention. He stared, as if not fully understanding what he saw, until an anguish-filled cry escaped from his throat.

The hair's on her arms rose and a chill ran down Gyda's spine.

"Gimli!" Gandalf's voice bellowed in warning.

Gyda wastes no time, following after the dwarf, but she pauses in the doorway. A single beam of light filtered through a crack in the wall, and landed on a stone tomb.

"Oh, no." Gimli's voice cracks as he kneels down in defeat.

One by one, the Fellowship enters, and Gyda's eyes flicker from the dwarf to his fallen kin littering the room.

Elgarain is the first who dares to approach Gimli, as she silently places a comforting hand on his shoulder as he cries.

Slowly the others follow, gathering around the tomb with solemn thoughts and a heavy heart, but it is Gandalf who reveals who lays buried beneath the stone slab. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin—Lord of Moria."

Metal clanks, as Gimli' let's his head fall against the stone.

"He is dead then." Gandalf sighs in defeat. "It's as I feared."

Catching sight of something on the ground, Gandalf hands over his hat and staff to Pippin, before leaning down to grab a dust covered book from the hands of a skeleton.

Ripped pages fall to the ground, as does the dirt and dust that had clung to the paper.

"We must move on." Legolas appears next to her and Aragorn, the elven prince brushing up against her back as he moves to stand between them. "We cannot linger." He speaks to her, as he says those words.

"They have taken the bridge." The words get stolen from her mouth as Gandalf starts to read out loud, the last account of the dwarves of Moria. "—And the second hall. We have barred the gates...but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums in the deep." He looks at the Fellowship with solemn eyes as he turns the page. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming."

Subconsciously, Gyda's had grips her sword tighter, her heart beating hurriedly in her chest. The hairs on her neck rise and as if she senses what happens next, she turns to look at Pippin.

The Hobbit had started walking backwards, like Gandalf's words had taken a hold of him.

A single dust covered skeleton was leaning on a well, and like a curious child, he reached out.

"Pippin." She calls out, but it is too late.

The head breaks of, and it falls down into the dark deep oblivion followed by the rest of the armor. For a moment silence follows until a clanging echoes down the well, ending with a deafening bang.

"Fool of a Took." Gandalf chastises angrily slamming the book close. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity. Ripping his staff and hat from the Hobbit, the Grey Wizard turns back to the others.

Gyda breaths deeply ready to suggest moving on when a loud bang rings out. Followed by another—and another.

Her breath hitches. Drums.

She clutches her sword tighter in fear, her thought drifting back to the written words Gandalf had read out loud.

We cannot get out—they are coming.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS

Goheno nin — i'm sorry

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top