The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 20: Without Light and Path

Varilerin had spent countless years in darkness, as a ranger and an exile, yet the darkness awaiting the Fellowship feared her like a looming death. She had never felt fear gripping her soul before, for not even her own death terrified her. But the mines they were approaching emanated a strange shadow from afar, even when she could not see them. Long had the people from Moria were heard in the ears of travellers, which signified an unfortunate thing occurring in the caves. Varilerin was not the only one wary of this, though she was the wariest one.

“Varilerin?” Aragorn asked as they made their way to the doors of Moria. “You seem disturbed. What is wrong?”

“Ask that to Legolas and Gandalf,” Varilerin answered briefly, her hands constantly rubbing her weapons. “Something about those mines frightens us, probably you and Boromir as well. It is not like the Black Riders or the Ring, the feeling I get, but something else. It is dark and malevolent, but similar.”

“As far as I have seen, everyone seem frightened enough with this idea,” Legolas added, now walking beside them. “Except for one…”

“I hear that!” Gimli grumbled from afar. Legolas smirked and so was Aragorn. Varilerin sighed. Indeed, the Dwarf was the only one excited in entering Moria.

“There is evil there,” she ended shortly, quickening her pace so she would walk beside Gandalf. The old wizard was talking to Frodo quietly, though she could hear what they were speaking. Gandalf seemed to notice her arrival and slowed down his pace so she could hear him clearly. When she closed their distance, Gandalf glanced at Boromir.

“You feel it as well, I see,” Varilerin said in Elven tongue. “But he has been calm. Do not worry, I am constantly watching him.” Boromir shifted slightly, as if he felt them talking about him. Varilerin and Gandalf had been wary of the Man ever since their first encounter in Rivendell, for he had shadows and faint malice behind his eyes whenever he got close to the Ring. Varilerin had taken the liberty to watch him, in case he dared to do things without their consent, but so far he had been idle.

“I have the feeling you come to me not to talk about the captain,” Gandalf guessed. “You worry about the cave we are about to enter.”

“There are shadows in Moria, Gandalf. It disturbs my mind,” Varilerin told him. “You know my feeling is rarely false.”

“I know, but we can no longer turn back, My Dear,” Gandalf said calmly, hiding any worry in his mind. The path they were walking became darker as the sun was setting, seemingly supporting her idea. He studied her face, which was weary and dimmer than the one in Rivendell. It was clear Varilerin had regained her strength and herself when she returned to her home, though currently she looked similar to the state she had in her exile. It worried the Wizard, especially since the current journey was more difficult and painstaking. “You seem tired?”

Varilerin shook her head, but winced slightly. “I might be an Elf for several hundred years, but the human blood in me gives me less strength than my kin; furthermore, this darkness is threatening.”

“Then why do you stay in it?” Frodo asked, overhearing their strange conversation. Varilerin tilted her head, not understanding his question, and so Frodo continued. “Why do you refer yourself as the Shadow Hunter and travel in darkness?”

“I hid in it, but I do not like it,” she answered curtly. “There is a saying that to defeat an enemy is to know one. It is what I have been doing in my exile. Though, now that Sauron’s malice is growing, I cannot assure the success of this method.”

“But you managed to protect us,” Frodo said gratefully, forming a sincere smile.

“You were stabbed,” Varilerin retorted grimly Frodo smiled and shrug his shoulders lightly. “And it was mostly because of me lowering my defences.”

“At least I am alive,” Frodo said without further thought. His carefreeness shook Varilerin terribly with surprise and disbelief. “And for that I must say thank you.”

Before she could respond, the base of the mountain was finally visible to their naked eyes. “The walls of Moria!” Gimli muttered, pointing towards the sheer flat cliff face before them. The Hobbits were slightly amazed, though the others were less than impressed. The Dwarf skipped his way past Varilerin and Gandalf, arriving first at the bottom. Varilerin followed silently behind, eyeing the lake which encircled the walls.

“Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,” Gimli said, tapping his axe to the wall.

“Yes Gimli! Their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten!” Gandalf added, scrutinizing the wall to find their entrance,

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” teased Legolas, unimpressed. Gimli grumbled under his beard, but remained silent to his remark and continued to search the door. Varilerin and the others arrived as Gandalf rubbed a part of the wall covered in vines and moss.

“Ah, now…. Let me see… Ithildin,” Gandalf muttered, brushing away the dirt which covered it. The Fellowship was amazed when they saw a pattern carved onto the stone, faint but clear enough to their eyes. “It mirrors only starlight and moonlight.”

The moon, as if bidding Gandalf’s words, revealed itself from the covers of the clouds. A soft light shone upon the patterns. Slowly they glowed under the moonlight, revealing further words carved delicately on the arch of the door. The sight took all of them amazed, and even the lone female was mesmerized by the craft of the entrance.

“It reads the door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak Friend and enter,” Gandalf read.

“What do you suppose that means?” Merry wondered.

“Oh, it’s quite simple,” scoffed Gandalf. “If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open,” he explained, raising his staff to the doors. “Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!”

To everyone’s dismay, the door didn’t flinch. It stood still and cold, glowering at them proudly. Gandalf stepped back and huffed, wondering where he had gone wrong. “Well, there is always another,” Gandalf said when he saw the others’ disappointed looks. He chanted another spell in the tongue of the Dwarfs, as loud and clear as before. But the door didn’t move, still towering them like an arrogant guard.

“Nothing’s happening,” Pippin whispered to Varilerin. She raised her brows to convey the same thought. Her old friend rarely failed in chanting spells, or opening doors, which meant that Gandalf had not the slightest idea on how to open the Dwarfish door. But she did not say a word, for she saw that Gandalf would only explode in his distress.

“I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs….” Gandalf grumbled to himself.

“What are you going to do then?” Pippin asked bluntly.

“Knock your head against these doors Peregrin Took and if that does not shatter them, then I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions!” Gandalf shot back furiously, causing the Hobbit to be silenced in an instant. “I will try to find the opening words,” Gandalf grumbled weakly, continuing his effort in chanting spells of language Varilerin no longer recognized. She smirked at Gandalf’s reactions and turned away, letting the wizard busy himself with the unmoving wall. Her eyes laid on the tranquil lake, dark under the night. Not far Aragorn was letting Bill go, for caves were not pleasant places for ponies. Sam was not pleased by this, though he could not prevent the ranger from releasing the steed.

“Tell me, should we refrain from going to the nasty mine, or should we go into it faster?” Boromir asked her, his face full of worry and tiredness. Varilerin faced him, questioning his intentions to suddenly talk to her. He was, so far, the only one who had not dared to converse with her. Possibly because she herself threatened him with her presence, or that he was born quiet. “The lake is disturbing me,” he explained hesitantly.

“There is always something hidden behind tranquillity. Literally or figuratively,” Legolas remarked as he too observed the waters. Varilerin flinched, understanding well his last words, which referred to her own self. “Varilerin, what do you think?” Legolas asked.

“Now I am the advisor?” she asked, not believing that she was now conversing like normal people with the two. Glorfindel might be right about the quest bringing forth changes to her, though she did not expect herself being noisier as a part of them. But the lake was indeed disturbing her mind. It was not an objective thought now, for she had been feeling uncomfortable as they started their journey to Moria. Nevertheless, the two men seemed to force her to convey her thoughts however ridiculous or subjective they were.

Before she could even speak, however, she heard rocks splashing the surface of the water, sending ripples all over the lake. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at the direction where the rock was thrown, finding Merry throwing another pebble.

“Do not disturb the water,” Aragorn advised, holding the Hobbit’s hand. Merry immediately nodded and put down the stone he was holding, joining Pippin in his scolded state. Aragorn sighed and joined the warriors’ watch, his eyes glancing warily at the water.

“Right, I should tell you that the water is not undisturbed now,” Varilerin finally explained. “Something is there, something malicious. I hope Gandalf opens the door quickly.”

Frodo, as if he was inspired by Varilerin’s words, suddenly stood up. He studied the writings on the door before he approached Gandalf, who had given up with a loud grunt. “It is a riddle,” Frodo told him. “It is not a spell all along. Gandalf, what is the Elvish word for ‘friend?” he hastily asked. Gandalf was confused, but a bright realization immediately came upon his head.

“Mellon,” he muttered. The door immediately creaked, jolting the other Hobbits and members. Varilerin and the watchers instantly turned to see the large stone door opening, showing an endless darkness of the mines. Gandalf chuckled and patted Frodo’s shoulders, awarding him with his achievement, before he took his staff and approached the entrance.

“Your prayer has come true, My Friend,” Legolas whispered to Varilerin. She rolled her eyes and tailed them to the mine, just behind Frodo and Sam. She had not prayed the door to be opened, but it was better than being threatened by a silent lake. Even with her keen eyes and her usual life in the dark, she could not see anything within vicinity. The thought of entering the eternal darkness shook her, and poked her with a critical question.

Where are the lights? Where are the people?

In front of them Gandalf put a crystal on top of his staff and blew it to a soft glow. “Soon, Mr. Elf, you will enjoy the fabelled hospitality of the Dwarfs!” Gimli boasted to the ellon. “Roaring fires! Malt beer! Red meat off the bone!” Gandalf ignored the Dwarf’s useless speech and continued to blow his staff alit. When he deemed the brightness enough, he lifted it high to clear the road. He narrowed his eyes, trying to catch any path, but found himself unable to. He urged Legolas to stand beside him, before he took another step into the mines.

“This, My Friend,” Gimli said now to Varilerin, who was equally uninterested with his stories, “is the home of my cousin Blin! And they call it a mine! A mine!” Gimli suddenly stopped when he heard a crackle from his feet. He widened his eyes as he lifted his boots, revealing a glowing skull of a Dwarf. Varilerin alerted her senses and immediately scanned her surroundings, only to find more skulls and rotting corpse encircling them.

“This isn’t a mine!” Boromir warned. “It is a tomb!”

“NO!” Gimli howled as he knelt beside a corpse. “NO!”

Legolas ignored the Dwarf’s grief and instead pulled out an arrow from one of the corpse. “Goblins!” he cursed, throwing the arrow away and strung his own. The Fellowship began moving backwards in panic, fearing what might welcome them from the infinite darkness would treat them the same as the dead Dwarfs. Varilerin drew her bow as well and pushed the Hobbits backwards, sharpening her sense for any impending danger.

“We make for the gap of Rohan,” Boromir muttered furiously. “We should never have come here!”

“Get out. Get out!” Varilerin ordered, pushing the Halflings away from the entrance. They shivered in terror, finding their legs disobeying their commands. Frodo’s suddenly left the ground, lifted high to the air by something powerful and unseen. It was too late for him to grab the others, and soon his body too was in the air. He screamed in horror as his wee figure was swung freely in the sky.

“Varilerin! Boromir!” Merry shouted for help, unable to act as he watched his cousin helpless and afloat. Varilerin instantly turned, watching in horror as Frodo’s body was controlled by a tentacle spouting from the water. She caught Frodo’s pleading eyes before she ran towards the lake, ignoring the numerous limbs now threatening the Fellowship. Legolas and Aragorn drew their bows and shot at the tentacles, whilst Boromir struggled in protecting the other Halflings and Varilerin dashed to save Frodo.

With her nimble feet she dodged every single limb, drawing one of her swords to cut open one which targeted her. She looked up, trying to think of a way to save the Halfling, now drawn farther from the shore. Gritting her teeth, she assembled all of her courage and strength to save the Hobbit with only one possible choice left.

“Valar, help me,” she prayed before she leapt to one of the swinging tentacles. She caught it with her hand and held on to it as if her life and Frodo’s depended on it. She was almost dropped when, from the waters, emerged a horrifying creature with a mouth large enough to swallow a Troll. Frodo’s screams grew louder, and time grew short. Varilerin forced herself to swing from the tentacle and onto the next, trying to reach Frodo with all her might. But the limb holding Frodo was too nimble, and hers was trying to shake her off. With her last bet and courage, she swung herself to Frodo and raised her sword. Her body moved on its own and she landed onto Frodo hard, gripping his body to prevent her own fall. Without further thought she slashed the limb off from its main body, dropping her and Frodo down to the shallower waters. She shielded him and let her back hit the hard ground, grunting painfully as she tried to regain her vision.

“Varilerin!” Aragorn said, extending his hand and helping her afoot. She limped to stand and quickly dragged Frodo away from the merciless beast, which was suffering from the arrows Legolas had been shooting.

“Legolas! Aim on the head!” Varilerin rasped when she was close enough. Legolas did not need her to repeat and immediately fired his arrow directly to the creature’s skull, igniting a growl of agony from it. He was not spared a moment of victory, for his strike merely sparked the creature’s anger and causing it to approach the entrance in a great speed.

“Into the mines!” Gandalf ordered, leading the Fellowship into Moria. Vailerin pushed Frodo in first before she joined him. The beast, still pursuing them, was now on the doorstep of Moria. Varilerin, seeing the ellon still fighting the creature, rushed to pull him in. He was yanked to the floor hard, but was ultimately saved when the beast broke down the entrance with its mighty strength. The Fellowship was unable to move when the stones fell before them, shaking the mines with a terrible force, until only darkness accompanied the place.

The momentary silence among them was broken by the flicker of glow coming from Gandalf’s staff. “We now have but one choice,” Gandalf muttered. “We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler creatures than Orcs in the deep places of the world. Quietly now, it’s a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence may go unnoticed.”

The Fellowship’s warriors did not need Gandalf to remind them twice, after what they had seen—though, they were unconvinced whether their presence would remain unnoticed. Frodo knew better, for he had suffered two frightening experiences ever since he got the Ring, and so far he had found little rest because of his anxiety. “I’m fine,” Frodo assured Varilerin, who had been looking at him with concern. She nodded hesitantly.

“Are you?” Legolas asked her in turn, his brows curved in a worried state. “That was a harsh fall. Your bones might be broken.”

“I am fine,” Varilerin repeated sternly. “I am not a fragile treasure, My Friend. For now, do not worry for me. Worry for the Fellowship, for your eyes are better than mine. Go to the front, I will be watching from behind.”

Legolas, although unconvinced by her words, decided to obey her and left her alone behind Boromir. Once they were in line, they started walking deeper in the mines, past the corpses of Dwarfs and sometimes goblins. Their journey was unusually silent, despite the fact that four Hobbits and a Dwarf were with them. No words were exchanged between them as they walked, occasionally only when they were resting or eating. Rests and meals could not return them the strength they needed, for the eternal darkness seemed to siphon them like a hungry beast. Time couldn’t be perceived in the endless darkness, though Varilerin guessed it was only a day that had passed since their entrance. Varilerin remained calm without the presence of sunlight, though such could not be applied to the other members, excluding Gimli. The Dwarf now lost all his energetic remarks and instead was rendered to a grieving state.

“The wealth of Moria is not in gold, or jewels,” she heard Gandalf explaining one day—intending to lighten the atmosphere—and found the company slowing their pace. “But Mithril.” Gandalf stopped in front of a cliff and let his staff shone the deep abyss below. The Fellowship looked down, discovering hundreds of abandoned mining equipments. Numerous Mithril veins glinted under the light, lying untouched. The Fellowship widened their eyes in awe, for each had heart about the precious metal and its remarkable strength.

“Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him,” Gandalf added, resuming their pace as they trailed the ledge facing the mines.

“That was a kingly gift!” Gimli exclaimed, trying to sound as excited as possible. “Not many are given the opportunity to even wear one!”

“Yes Gimli,” Gandalf continued. “I have never told him, but it is worth greater than the Shire.” None noticed Frodo’s widening eyes. “Have you, Varilerin?”

“Never,” Varilerin curtly answered, her voice fading due to her position in the line. . “I was tempted, though I have never brought the subject whenever I visited Bilbo.” Varilerin looked down again, something poking her keen mind. “Gimli, you said that this is the home of Balin, yes?”

“Well, he went to an expedition some time ago,” Gimli mumbled. “I have received messages from him. He have managed to take over several halls, despite having to fight some Orcs, but he did get inside. However, it has been a while since his last message. It worries me, but that Lad is stronger than most Dwarfs. He is definitely fine… What of it?”

“No, I am just asking,” Varilerin ended, still eyeing the Mithril veins.

“You have something else in your mind,” Boromir whispered, turning his head to look at her. Varilerin frowned, her mind still processing all the information she had taken. She glared at him, trying to signal that she wanted to remain silent, but the Man was insistent.

“Moria has always been occupied by evil,” Varilerin finally explained. “Orcs managed to take this kingdom a long time ago, and I am afraid they are still here. Their numbers are great and they are strong. Even the Dwarfs in the past could not retake this kingdom without tragic sacrifices…I fear what awaits us is not Balin or his friends,” she whispered carefully, not wanting Gimli to hear their conversation. “Furthermore, judging from the corpses and the abandoned equipment, the attack on the Dwarfs occurred not recently. Probably a decade, at least. It worries me.”

“Which means the higher the chance enemies are eyeing us,” Legolas suddenly interrupted. Varilerin should have known that whispers were now silent enough for his ears to miss their conversation. “But it is a logical thought. Should I tell Gandalf?”

“He knows already,” Varilerin sighed. “All we have to do is now watch for anything. In this place, our skills are far more needed, considering we are tasked to protect the Ring Bearer.” The other two nodded, turning their eyes on the road again. They trailed up broken stone steps, on which Pippin almost fell. Aragorn caught him immediately, reprimanding him to be careful, for any slightest sound could alert the hidden enemies. Pippin nodded, intending to continue his walk when he unfortunately bumped with Merry’s back.

“Why are you stopping?” demanded Pippin as quietly as possible, slapping Merry’s back in his annoyance.

“Because Gandalf’s stopping,” snapped Merry. The others behind the Hobbits stopped as well, lifting their heads to see where they were. The Company reached a junction with three separate doorways, each leading into an endless darkness. Gandalf stood still and glanced at each doorways, not speaking nor informing the others of the circumstances they were in.

“Gandalf?” he heard Frodo say. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine Frodo,” Gandalf said hesitantly. “It’s just that…. I have no memory of this place.”