The Fellowship continued to cautiously weave their way around the massive lake that had formed outside Moria. The rocky path was narrow and treacherous, and the dark water had a foul feel to it. No one could shake the feeling of urgency, as if some unnamed threat lay in wait for its unsuspecting prey.

Night had yet again fallen, and the moon was shifting in and out of the clouds, causing both Jack and Barbossa to alternate between human and skeletal form at random intervals. Barbossa was almost grateful that their secret had been exposed when it was, for there would have been no way to conceal it now, and explanations would have been all the more awkward given the circumstances. Currently, however, the moon was concealed behind the clouds, and for that he was even more grateful.

Gandalf kept leading the company along the narrow path, continuously running his hand along the rock wall to their left in an attempt to discover a revealing fissure or line in the otherwise solid cliff. Behind him, Gimli was tapping the rock with his axe, hoping to hear a change in pitch that indicated an opening behind. Finally they came to two tall holly trees, almost bare of leaves but still magnificent to behold. It was along the relatively smooth space between these two trees that Gandalf seemed to find what he was looking for. "Ithilden," he said quietly, running his hands over the the rock and mumuring words under his breath. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

As if on cue, the clouds once again parted to reveal the moon. If the Fellowship had not yet become quite comfortable with the idea of two undead skeletons walking amongst them, then they had at least learned to ignore them, though Barbossa suspected that was partly due to the even stranger sight that lay before them. As the moonlight shone on the space where Gandalf was standing, silvery lines gradually appeared on the surface of the stone, forming a clearly visible door, marked with many strange emblems and something written in a foreign tongue at the top of the arch.

"It reads, 'The Doors of Durin, lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter,'" Gandalf translated for the rest of the Fellowship as they stared in awe.

"What d'you suppose that means?" piped up Merry, with absolutely no change to his tone of voice in volume or enthusiasm. Obviously the ancient remnants of Moria either impressed him not a whit or he was merely oblivious.

"Is it a riddle?" said Elizabeth suddenly, stepping forward. She made as if to trace a line of ithildin with her fingertips but stopped with a glance at Gandalf.

Sam had been regarding the large, still pool of a lake for some time with an expression bordering on the suspicious. Hobbits in general were not fond of water and this had an air to it - almost a smell, as of something faintly stagnant and rotting. He brushed a hand underneath his nose and Bill nudged him forward, a sort of indicator that the rest of the Fellowship was ahead.

Legolas stepped lightly over the rocks, making no sound with footsteps or otherwise. He regarded these new surroundings with the same piercing gaze of before, an alien intensity of examination that was curious to behold for any not of elf-kind.

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"It's quite simple," Gandalf replied. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open." Taking a step back, he placed the end of his staff in the center of the many-rayed star on the door and spoke in a loud, clear voice. "Annon Edhellen edro hi ammen!" ...Nothing. Removing his staff, Gandalf raised his arms and tried again. "Fennas Nogothrim lasto beth lammen!"

Aragorn, realizing that it could very well be a while until Gandalf recalled the necessary words, decided to at least do something productive while they waited. "Sam, I'm afraid here is where we must part company with our faithful friend Bill," he said quietly, slowly moving over toward the pony. "We will discard of our winter gear here. We will not need it in the Mines, nor will it be necessary in the South. We must then each take a share of Bill's load, especially the food and water skins." Looking up at their new companions, he added, "It would be helpful if those with no existing load -with the exception of Elizabeth- took on the most provisions. If you are going to consume our food, then you may as well assist in carrying it."

"If that be the case," Barbossa said from where he was sitting, "then the whelp be the only one who qualifies. I could care less what happens to yer food."

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Sam found his reply to Will's remark completely driven out of his head by the grisly appearance of the grinning Jack. He attempted several times and trailed off helplessly. Bill shifted from foot to foot uneasily, snorting.

Merry appeared relatively unfazed by Jack's unnatural appearance - he even managed to seem mildly bored. This was evidenced by the fact that he stooped to examine a smooth round rock, tossed it a moment in his hand, and lobbed it easily into the still pool.

Legolas turned sharply even before the rock disappeared with a plop, eyes scanning the lake.

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"The Mines are no place for a pony," Aragorn continued as he finished unloading Bill's saddle. "Even one so brave as Bill."

Suddenly a soft plop caught the ranger's attention. Aragorn whirled around to see ripples spreading through the pool and a rather bored-looking hobbit holding another smooth stone. "Do not disturb the water," he whispered urgently, grabbing Merry's arm before the halfling could throw another. Watching the water intently, he was certain he saw something stirring under the surface. They needed to leave. Now.

Barbossa stood up suddenly as he spotted something just barely breaking the surface of the water, then submerging again. There was something in there. Something alive. "How goes the riddle?" he asked, casting an uneasy glance back toward the water.

Gandalf didn't respond, instead silently considering Frodo's comment. "Mellon," he said slowly.

With a crack, the doors suddenly began to swing open. Standing up and placing a crystal on the top of his staff, Gandalf began to lead the way into the mine.

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[look who the pirate dragged in ]

What in all the steel pickaxes was taking the wizard so long?

While Gandalf was fooling with the door, Gimli, son of Gloin, had plopped down on a damp rock, where he'd spent a most wonderful time staring at his axe handle. That the tallish newcomers, as he'd decided to term them, suddenly morphed into walking corpses didn't surprise him. He'd told Aragorn all along but - no! Nobody ever listens to the dwarf these days.

Out of all the short folk in the world, it was Frodo who deciphered the riddle. The gates of Moria grated open. Strength returned, Gimli swung his axe over his shoulder and leaped to his feet. "Excuse me!" he grunted, stumping past Will to be the second in line after Gandalf. The all too familiar dank scent of the mines deluged him. He licked his lips in anticipation. Playing grand host, he gestured expansively at the others. The son of Thranduil received an extra smirk.

"Soon, master elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!" Such was Gimli's ardor that he felt moisture gather at his eyes.

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"...they're all dead."

Gimli was in the process of shaking his head - the tallish walking man/skeleton/thing had no idea what he was talking about, anyway - when he tripped over something in the dark. That same something clattered across the stone floor. Curiousity piqued, he looked down. A rusted helm of familiar make. And still jammed inside it...

A Dwarven skull.

Suddenly they were everywhere. Dwarven bones, scattered Dwarven armor, rotting Dwarven corpses underneath his feet... No. No, Durin save him, it couldn't be! Vision spinning, mind reeling, he stumbled deeper into the tunnel. He was tripping, falling... He dropped to his knees and came face to face with another stout Dwarven skull. Its two gaping eye sockets stared back at him. This could have been anyone. It could have been his cousin, his friend, his kin...

Oblivious to all else around him, Gimli clenched his fists and howled his grief to the heavens.

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Legolas, stepping into the mine - no, not a mine, a death trap - was immediately so repelled by the smell on the air that he nearly exited then and there, and wiped the dust of the cursed place off his light boots. It was a smell of death, of unknown things in dark places, of scrambles in the dark. Hs hands hovered over the fletching of an arrow from his quiver. In seconds his bow could be up if there was even a flicker in the clinging shadows beyond the half-lit doorway

Against his will he ventured further, stepping between bodies still in armor caked with rust and leering skulls still cradled in half-ruined helmets. The smell grew stronger, but still the slaughter seemed unreal. The skeletons lying about seemed as though they never could have been living, breathing beings. For one of elvenkind death was an enigma. For a moment Legolas regarded the grief-stricken dwarf with an expression akin to puzzlement.

A grinning skull loomed, one eye socket still holding the point of an arrow. Drawn by morbid curiousity the elf seized its shaft and the thing came free, revealing a barbed, discolored point. On further inspection the fletching was black and crudely done even for -

"Goblins," said Legolas, and flung the arrow down as though it were contaminated even as his hands flew to have his bow at the ready.

Repulsed by the carnage revealed, Elizabeth did not stiffen at Will's suddenly protective touch, only shrank against him in the dank air that seemed to rise from Moria's doors. The skeletons littering the entrance were far too similar to the ones she saw walking. But... "No, Will, wait," she said nonetheless, resising being pulled away from the entrance. "We cannot go over the mountain, we've tried. This is...the only way."

Somehow snow and ice took on a cheerier persona in the face of this carnage, but there was no passage over the mountain - and in Moria perhaps there would be no fell voces to pull down rocks upon them. Elizabeth found herself searching the shadows. What lanuished in Moria that she would perhaps prefer not to confront?

In the horror of discovery Frodo's first shout went unnoticed by even Sam for a moment - but a short one. "Mr Frodo!" He shouted, eyes widening in alarm. He had that knife here somewhere - ah yes! Sam fumbled the weapon from its sheath and ran to hack at the thing that had caught had caught at Frodo. "Help! Strider! Mr Gandalf, help!"

Merry was trying to disentangle something from his bare foot that he was leery to identify. It crunched under his step like - well, no point in thinking that kind of thing! He abandoned his efforts upon Sam's yell and the thing came free anyway as the hobbits rushed headlong outside to stare in alarm for a split second before rushing pell-mell at this new menace with lusty yells.

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