The Mage of Middle-Earth - CH - 70

The Fellowship trudged through the icy wilderness, their breath visible in the bitter cold. Caradhras had defeated them, forcing them to find another way across the Misty Mountains. And now, they stood before the Doors of Durin, the entrance to the lost Dwarven kingdom of Moria.

Samwise shivered, clutching his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The ring felt heavier than usual.

"We shouldn't be here," he muttered. "Bad things happen underground."

Gimli huffed, his broad chest rising with indignation. "Moria was the greatest of the Dwarven halls! My cousin Balin came here to reclaim it, and if he's still alive, we'll find shelter within its halls."

Aragorn remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning the dark entrance. Something felt wrong.

Gandalf raised his staff and studied the massive, moonlit doors, their edges covered in Elvish runes.

"Speak, friend, and enter."

"Simple enough," Pippin said. "Just speak the password, right?"

Gandalf frowned. "Dwarves do not make things simple."

Legolas stepped closer, his keen elven eyes reading the ancient script. "It says, Mellon."

At the word, the doors groaned and parted, revealing a black abyss beyond.

The Fellowship hesitated.

Sam gulped. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Then, something moved behind them.

A deep, rumbling splash echoed from the nearby lake. The water, which had been still moments ago, now seethed and bubbled.

Frodo took a step back. "What was that?"

Before anyone could answer, a tentacle shot out from the water, wrapping around Frodo's ankle and yanking him off his feet.

Chaos erupted.

Sam lunged at the tentacle, slashing at it with his short sword. The thing shrieked but did not let go.

Aragorn and Boromir rushed forward, hacking at the monstrous appendages as more tentacles erupted from the lake.

"Inside! Quickly!" Gandalf bellowed.

Legolas loosed arrow after arrow, each finding its mark. But still, the massive creature pulled itself from the depths.

Sam stabbed down hard, and the tentacle released Frodo with a shriek. Aragorn pulled the Hobbit back as the Watcher let out a terrible cry.

Then, with a thunderous crash, it struck the entrance, collapsing the doorway behind them.

Darkness swallowed them whole.

The Fellowship stood in pitch black silence. The only light came from Gandalf’s staff, casting eerie shadows along the vast stone walls.

Sam held onto Frodo, his heart racing. "That thing... it blocked the way out."

Gimli stepped forward, his voice filled with pride. "Fear not. We have entered the greatest kingdom of my people. The halls of Moria will welcome us yet."

Gandalf’s face was grim. "Then let us hope Balin still holds them."

They moved forward, their footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. The air was thick with dust and silence—too much silence.

Sam glanced at Frodo. The ring pulsed, like a second heartbeat.

Something was waiting for them in the darkness.

The Fellowship walked cautiously through the dimly lit halls of Moria, the only source of light being Gandalf's staff, casting long shadows on the vast stone walls. Dust swirled in the air, disturbed by their movement, and the silence of the ancient kingdom felt heavy—as if the very stone mourned the loss of its people.

Gimli’s breathing was ragged as he took in the scene before him. The once-great halls of the Dwarves were now filled with fallen warriors, their bones resting where they had made their final stand. Broken axes and shields lay scattered on the ground, arrows protruding from walls and bodies alike.

Legolas knelt, plucking an arrow from one of the corpses. He examined the fletching with narrowed eyes. "Goblins," he murmured.

Gimli clenched his fists. "No... no! My cousin Balin was here. He was supposed to reclaim this kingdom. Where is he?"

Boromir rested a hand on Gimli’s shoulder. “Gimli… we may not like what we find.”

Gandalf sighed. “We cannot stop now. If Balin fell, then there is nothing we can do for him—yet. Our priority is to move forward. We shall pay our respects when the quest is done.”

Gimli looked ready to argue but swallowed his grief. He gave a solemn nod and marched forward, his grip on his axe tightening.

As they pressed on, they entered a vast chamber lined with massive stone pillars. The remains of an old library stretched before them—ancient stone shelves carved into the walls, now cracked and broken. Many books had fallen to the ground, their covers rotting with age.

Merry's eyes widened. "Look at all these books! This is history just left to rot!"

Frodo knelt beside a book, brushing away the dust. He flipped the pages carefully. "Dwarvish records… trade agreements… battle strategies."

Merry grinned. "We can’t let this go to waste! Imagine what we could learn!"

Sam, who had been keeping his hand near his sword the whole time, looked uneasy. "I don’t think now’s the time for reading, Frodo."

Boromir agreed. "We must keep moving. This is a tomb, not a library."

Legolas, who had been watching the shadows, spoke in a low voice. "Sam is right. I feel eyes upon us."

At that, the Hobbits hurriedly tucked a few books into their packs before following the rest of the group out of the chamber.

After traveling deeper into the mines, they reached a large, circular chamber, at the center of which stood a massive stone tomb. Dwarvish runes were carved into the surface, and Gimli read them aloud in a choked voice:

“Balin, son of Fundin. Lord of Moria.”

A painful silence filled the chamber.

Gimli sank to his knees before the tomb, bowing his head. The other members of the Fellowship remained still, paying their respects.

Sam, who knew grief all too well, murmured, "I’m sorry, Mr. Gimli."

Gandalf approached a nearby stone table, on which lay a large, dusty tome. He picked it up carefully, flipping through the aged pages, his face growing darker as he read.

"It is the Book of Mazarbul," he murmured. "A record of Balin's final days."

He began to read aloud:

“They took the Bridge… and the second hall… we barred the gates, but they are coming.”

Boromir clenched his jaw. "They were trapped."

Gandalf turned the last page, where the final scrawl of a desperate Dwarf read:

“Drums in the deep… they are coming.”

As if on cue, a distant thudding echoed through the chamber.

A deep, resonant drumbeat.

Gimli stiffened. "Drums… in the deep."

Legolas drew his bow. "We are not alone."

The sound grew louder.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Gandalf snapped the book shut. "They know we are here."

Then, from the tunnels behind them came a piercing shriek.

Boromir turned towards the heavy wooden doors they had barricaded with old furniture. From beyond, a deep guttural screech echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of heavy feet approaching fast.

Aragorn tightened his grip on his sword.

"They know we're here."

Gandalf grabbed an old, dust-covered book from the stone desk near the tomb and quickly flipped through its fragile pages. The dwarven script was faded and streaked with dried blood. His face hardened as he read aloud.

"We cannot get out. The end is near. Drums... drums in the deep. They are coming."

As if on cue, a thunderous boom sounded from outside the room. The wooden doors shook violently, dust falling from the stone walls as something massive slammed against them.

Sam jumped back, clutching Frodo’s shoulder.

"That doesn’t sound like just goblins!"

Boromir, gripping his shield, stepped towards the doors. He pressed his ear against the wood, listening. His face turned pale.

"They have a cave troll."

Before anyone could react, a dozen black arrows pierced through the cracks in the door, clattering against the stone floor.

"Take cover!" Aragorn shouted.

Legolas nocked an arrow, his elven eyes scanning for movement.

The doors shuddered violently again, then exploded into splinters as orcs barged into the room.

"By Durin's beard!" Gimli roared, yanking his axe free.

The goblins flooded the room, their wicked blades gleaming in the torchlight. The Fellowship had no choice but to fight.

Boromir and Aragorn rushed the goblins, their swords clashing against jagged iron.

Legolas fired arrow after arrow, each shot landing between goblin eyes, sending them crashing lifelessly to the floor.

Gimli wielded his axe with fury, cutting through the goblins that tried to overrun him.

Sam, Pippin, and Merry stood back-to-back, using their small swords to keep the goblins at bay.

"We should have stayed in the Shire!" Pippin shouted, slicing the nearby orc.

Sam’s hands trembled around the hilt of his sword. This wasn’t like sparring with Frodo back in the Shire—this was real. He swung, cutting into an orc’s leg. The creature shrieked and fell, and Sam barely had time to pull his blade free before another lunged at him.

Across the chamber, Merry and Pippin fought side by side, slashing at any orc that got too close. Despite their small size, they were fast—ducking and weaving between lumbering goblins, their swords biting deep.

Legolas stood atop a broken pillar, his bow a blur. Arrows flew, striking goblins in their throats, in their eyes—each shot perfectly placed.

Boromir and Aragorn held the front, their swords cutting down orc after orc. But no matter how many they killed, more kept coming.

And then—the ground shook.

A deafening roar echoed through the halls, sending a chill down Sam’s spine. He turned, his breath hitching.

The cave troll had arrived.

It was massive, nearly twice the size of a regular troll. Its leathery skin was covered in scars and old wounds, and its small, beady eyes burned with rage. It dragged a heavy iron mace, the chain attached rattling as it swung the weapon over its head.

With a terrifying crash, the mace smashed into the stone floor, sending debris flying. Sam barely jumped aside in time.

“Back! Back!” Gandalf shouted, pulling Frodo behind him.

Boromir charged, his shield raised high. The troll swung. The force of the impact sent Boromir flying into a nearby wall. He crumpled, groaning.

“Boromir!” Aragorn yelled, rushing to his aid.

Legolas loosed an arrow, striking the troll in the chest. It barely flinched.

Another arrow to the eye, and the beast roared, staggering back.

Sam watched as Pippin and Merry exchanged a glance—then, without hesitation, they jumped onto the troll’s back.

“What are you two doing?!” Sam shouted, but they were already stabbing at the beast’s neck with their swords.

The troll thrashed, slamming its back into the walls to shake them off. Merry lost his grip and fell, landing hard.

Pippin barely hung on.

The troll roared and grabbed Pippin, squeezing him in its massive hand.

Sam acted without thinking.

The troll howled in pain and dropped Pippin, who rolled away coughing.

Boromir charged forward, raising his shield. "Keep moving! Do not let it corner us!"

The goblins howled with glee as their monstrous ally swung its club, barely missing Boromir, who rolled aside at the last moment.

Legolas fired three arrows in rapid succession, each striking the troll’s thick hide, but barely slowing it down.

"Weapons barely pierce its skin!" Legolas shouted.

Aragorn slashed at the troll’s legs, but it was like hitting solid stone.

Frodo ducked as the troll swung its club in his direction. Sam tackled Frodo out of the way just in time, sending them rolling across the chamber floor.

"This thing won’t go down!" Pippin cried, swinging his sword wildly.

As the battle raged on, Sam’s heart pounded in his chest.

The Ring was safe, but the Fellowship was not.

That’s when he remembered.

A small pouch inside his coat—the gift from Jimmy Potter.

"If you’re ever in real trouble, if you need to kill something too strong for normal weapons… use this."

Jimmy’s words echoed in his mind.

He had no idea what it was, but Jimmy had called it a Magic Grenade.

Sam grabbed Legolas by the arm. "You’re the fastest—take this!"

Legolas looked at the strange round object Sam placed in his palm. "What is it?"

"A weapon," Sam said quickly. "You have to pull the pin—then throw it into the troll direction!"

Legolas studied the odd metal object for a second, trusting Sam’s words, then raced up the ruined stone walls with his incredible elven speed.

The troll roared, swinging wildly at Boromir, who barely dodged in time.

Legolas reached a high ledge, gripping the grenade tightly. He pulled the pin—just as Sam had instructed—and with perfect accuracy, hurled it straight into the troll’s open mouth.

The troll caught it instinctively, swallowing it down.

Sam’s eyes widened.

"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" he shouted.

The Fellowship dropped to the ground.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion rocked the chamber, shaking the very foundations of Moria.

The troll’s upper body disintegrated into chunks, its massive torso obliterated, sending blood and flesh in every direction.

The shockwave sent goblins flying, screaming as the force of the blast knocked them off their feet.

A thick silence followed as bits of troll rained from above.

The Fellowship slowly got to their feet, coughing from the dust and smoke that filled the chamber.

Aragorn wiped a chunk of troll flesh from his shoulder. "What… in the name of the Valar… was that?"

Legolas, who had landed gracefully, examined his hands, still stunned by what he had just done. "I… I don’t know."

Boromir looked at Sam, half in shock, half in awe. "Samwise Gamgee, just what did you give him?"

Sam hesitated. "Uh… Jimmy called it a 'Magic Grenade.'"

Pippin picked a piece of troll gut from his hair and made a face. "I don’t know what’s worse—facing the troll or getting covered in troll guts."

Merry nudged Sam. "You HAVE to tell us where you got that thing!"

Sam wiped his hands on his coat. "Jimmy Potter gave it to me before we left Rivendell. Said to use it only if we’re in real trouble."

Aragorn exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Remind me to thank Jimmy Potter someday."

Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head. "That Hobbit is full of surprises."

Legolas nodded. "Indeed."

The Fellowship took a moment to recover, knowing the battle was far from over.

And now, they were one step closer to the heart of Moria.