Sword and Arrow

Chapter 17

Gandalf's affirmation of the death of Balin and the perishing of the dwarven colony echoed off the walls, making the Fellowship uneasy. Beruthiel shifted closer to Aragorn, resting a hand on the embroidery on her quiver. Aragorn gripped Boromir's hand tighter with one hand and touched the other to the hilt of his plain sword, ready to draw it at moment's notice.

Gandalf sighed. He handed his hat and staff to Pippin, then bent over and took a large, timeworn book from the hands of a deceased dwarf leaning against the block of white marble. Tossing one end of his blue scarf over his shoulder, he pried the book open to the last few pages. It opened with a creak and a cloud of dust that made the wizard cough.

"We must move on," Legolas hissed to Aragorn. "We cannot linger!" Beruthiel looked toward him with eyes widened by fear. The thing she had been sensing was not just her nerves acting up. Legolas too had felt it, and by Aragorn and Boromir's reactions, they had too. Only Gimli was not paying attention. He knelt by the marble coffin, softly chanting in Khuzdul.

Gandalf frowned, reading a passage of the book aloud: "They have taken the bridge and the second hall."

Gimli looked up, blankly staring at him. Legolas's head snapped up, his mouth forming an 'o' of surprise.

"We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long," Gandalf continued. "The ground shakes..." Horrified by the recounting of these events, Pippin, still holding the wizard's hat and staff, slowly began backing away.

"Drums... Drums in the deep." He looked up, grim-faced, then turned to the next page. It was ripped and burned toward the bottom, and there was a spatter of dark dried blood across it. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark."

Pippin backed away farther toward an old uncovered well. A corpse lay against it, helmeted and pierced through the chest by an old arrow.

"We cannot get out..." Gandalf glanced at the last line. It trailers off in a bloody scrawl. "They are coming!" he finished in a somber whisper.

The silence was broken by a loud crash as Pippin curiously reached out and twisted the arrow. The corpse's head fell off. Its body followed, then the metal chain and bucket resting beside it. They fell down, down, down, echoing loudly in the confined space. Pippin winced and looked up at Gandalf, expecting a tongue-lashing.

And he got one. "Fool of a Took!" Gandalf snapped, shutting the book with a thump. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" Pippin winced again as another wave of noise echoed up the well. Gandalf snatched his hat and staff from Pippin and turned around.

And froze as another wave of sound was heard.

But this wasn't metal on stone... It was drums.

He turned back to look at the hobbit awkwardly standing there. Pippin turned to look down the well. The drums rumbled again.

"Frodo!" Sam said, pointing. In his scabbard, Sting was glowing blue. Orcs.

Beruthiel nocked an arrow just as Legolas did. Boromir took the wiser course of action: he rushed at the door, slamming it shut and holding it with his body weight even as arrows hissed through the gaps in the slats.

Aragorn dropped his torch and ran to his boyfriend's side. "Stay back!" he fired over his shoulder at the hobbits. "You stay with Gandalf!"

Boromir tipped his head to the side as something bellowed from the other side. "They have a cave troll," he noted with sarcastic relief.

"Cave trolls. Right," Beruthiel said, taking a deep breath. "Let's hope they're not as horrible as they sound."

"Oh, they are," Legolas grunted, taking an armful of axes and other polearms. "Nasty things." He rushed over to Aragorn and Boromir, tossing them a sword, a spear, an axe, another sword. They fitted the weapons into the bar-slat, then retreated backward. Legolas pulled an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it to his bow. Beruthiel caught his eye, then moved to the opposite edge, leaving Aragorn and Boromir between them to guard the hobbits. This way, she and Legolas could cover the swordsmen.