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PostPosted: August 6th, 2007, 2:57 am 
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The overwhelming pain and torment that Frodo felt within his soul, was expressed through his helpless screams and tears. It couldn't be.....Gandalf was gone....dead....to save them. No, it couldn't be...his dearest friend..... And although he fought Boromir's strong embrace, there was no way of him ever reaching Gandalf in time.

Continuously screaming and sobbing as he was carried out of the mines unwilingly, Frodo was eventually set back down on his big hairy feet.

Depression set itself upon his shoulders, and he was soon leaving the presence of the Fellowship. It was him who had endangered Gandalf....it was him who had killed him....if only he wasn't appointed the ring....

All hope had left him....
------------------------------------------

William had never seen anything in dreams nor even thought of a creature like the Balrog, in his imagination. It was indescribable.

As Gandalf's eyes fell upon Elizabeth, Will looked to her deeply, as almost to read her thoughts....what was she thinking at that exact moment?

Arrows began whizzing by their heads, and soon enough Will had grasped Elizabeth by the shoulders and began pushing her up the stairs after Boromir and Barbossa. "Hurry, Elizabeth! Run!" he shouted in fear.

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PostPosted: August 6th, 2007, 3:49 am 
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They might have made it across the narrow bridge if they hadn’t come across the Balrog. Cursed fire demon, why did you seek to destroy us?

Pippin's head fell sadly, but he was forced to press forward with the group and not be left behind. Was all this his fault? Why did he have to be so curious? Did he set the fate for the old Wizard's death?

Gandalf battled the Balrog. He defeated him too. But alas, the Balrog also defeated Gandalf.

They fell, back into the dark chasm from which the Balrog came. Frodo’s shouts of denial echoed in his head and he suddenly clutched the side of Merry's arm.


Captain Jack Sparrow fled down the empty stone hall of Moria, his arms outstretched as he ran. The light from the way out was growing ever lighter.

With Will Turner and Elizabeth trudging along behind him, Jack pointed his finger at the living outside world until he gave a small satisfied sigh.

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PostPosted: August 6th, 2007, 12:47 pm 
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"I know!" shouted Elizabeth over the thunderous cacophony of rock crumbling all around them. She shrugged off Will's hands and sprinted up the stairs, heart pounding in her chest. Even with the shock of the wizard's death, Elizabeth knew very well why he'd died. From the moment when he'd met her eyes with that soul-piercing gaze, she'd known. What kind of remembrance would it be to his memory to remain behind to die themselves?

Fresh, piercingly cool air washed over her and Elizabeth stumbled to a halt, gulping for breath. The first opportunity she had, she whirled to look at the exit from Moria.

It was dark. Dark as the entrance had been, dark as the mines had ever seemed on the long, dim journey. No vestige of flame remained, no flicker of hope...Elizabeth found tears starting to her eyes. He hadn't even known them, hadn't trusted them completely, and yet he was willing to die for them and his Fellowship alike. She found the tears starting again, and no matter how she squinted or dashed them away, they would come. So she let them.

Legolas looked from one face - to the next - to the next. Each one held grief and disbelief and shock. Some were marred by tears. Try as he might, the elf could summon no more than a dull sense of wrongness, of it being somehow a dream. Surely the wizard was not dead - but what was death to an elf? Death, to one who lives through the milleniums untouched, is a conundrum. He scanned the rocky plateau once more, trying to feel a sense of grief like they must. There was nothing. Nothing except an urge to flee from Moria behind them.

He'd know it was a tomb. Known from the first breath of tainted air that escaped its dusty passages and chambers, known from his first step inside. But for the little he thought about death, he'd thought even less that it would be the wizard who would not come out of Moria.

The human woman - whose name was still strange on his tongue - was crying, looking back into Moria as though wanting it to release the wizard. The hobbits huddled together, Merry and Pippin sharing their grief with Sam nearby, and Frodo looking as though he'd rather be alone. Aragorn only looked shocked, but anxious to move on. The rest knew that grief could only be short-lived, but still she looked at the door.

Awkwardly, Legolas climbed back up toward her, soft boots making no sound on the rocks. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what humans did. She - Elizabeth? - looked up as if expecting him, then met his eyes seeming surprised. For a moment both of them just looked, neither moving, and then she smiled, tentatively, through tears. He gave what amounted to a nod, and she wiped her tears with her fingers.

Sam didn't know where Frodo was, or the hobbits, or any of the Fellowship. He almost didn't care. Gandalf. Gandalf couldn't be dead. Gandalf had always existed, always been the old wizard in fairy tales for hobbit children. He couldn't die. Wizards in fairy tales never died. It was wrong, not the sort of thing that should happen in a story. He dropped his head into his hands, tears blurring his vision.

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PostPosted: August 6th, 2007, 5:03 pm 
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Rocks and debris - the age-old stone that'd long pillared the great halls of Moria - crumbled like bread in the wake of the Balrog's fury. Chest heaving with every breath, Gimli stumbled out from the burning darkness of the mines into air - blessed, cool, fresh air. He collapsed, axe clattering to the ground next to him, and let his caulking explode in one bellow of emotion.

Moria. The great halls of Moria. The pride and joy of his people. Now a hellhole, a tomb. Balin... Gandalf... Alas, Gandalf! It was Gimli's fault. He'd been the one to insist that they pass through the mines. He'd nearly led his companions to their deaths - and one a fiery fate worse than death. Though he knew it to be impossible, he should have been the one to die. They could manage without the dwarf. But without the wizard, what would become of the Fellowship now?

Unbidden in his mind, Gandalf's voice echoed a reply: Nothing will become of the Fellowship, Gimli son of Gloin! Aragorn will lead. Pick up your axe and show them the strength of a true dwarf!

With a grunt, Gimli swiped his sleeve across his watering eyes and jumped back to his feet. The tallish pirates appeared as indifferent as ever, the whiskered one more so than the other - curse his black heart! The halflings were weeping and, to his surprise, the human lass along with them. He patted Sam awkwardly on the head as he passed. Reaching Aragorn, he tugged on the ranger's sleeve and grunted, "Aragorn? Skies are darkening. Methinks we should be going."

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PostPosted: August 7th, 2007, 12:13 am 
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Aragorn didn't reply immediately, his mind still numb with disbelief. People died. He, of all people, knew that. He'd begun this quest knowing that it was very likely that some - if not all - of them would die. But never Gandalf. He'd known Gandalf since he was a young man, and never, never had he entertained the possibility that the wizard might actually die. Even now, he found himself involuntarily looking back up toward the dark entrance to Moria, still half expecting to see Gandalf emerge - a bit singed, perhaps, but none the worse for the wear - and lecture them for not immediately fleeing as he had instructed.

Yet Gandalf was not coming back. Aragorn refused to admit the tears that threatened to well up at this thought, instead fixing his face with a determinedly neutral expression. Gandalf was not coming back, and he had commanded him, Aragorn, to lead the others on. The Balrog might have been defeated, and the bridge destroyed, but their problems were far from over. The goblins no doubt had more than one exit from the mines, and they would be none to pleased about losing their prey. They had to get away; Lorien was less than a day's journey away now. He would grieve the loss of Gandalf in due time, but for now, he owed it to the others to lead them into the relative safety of Lothlorien.

"Legolas, Hector," he called out abruptly, wiping the last of the orc blood from his sword. "Get them up."

For once, Barbossa neither corrected the use of his first name, nor challenged the Ranger's authority. Going over to one of the hobbits - Merry - he pulled him up onto his feet. "Now be not the time for grievin'," he said, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. "Gandalf didn' give himself up so we could collapse not ten yards from th' exit. T'would be a disservice to his memory, to give up now an' make his sacrifice for naught."


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PostPosted: August 7th, 2007, 2:09 am 
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A guilty look washed over Jack's face and he sat quiet, glancing over at his travelling companions. The day's light caught his eyes as he began calculating Aragorn's words.

One hand roamed towards a small hobbit. He plucked Peregrin Took delicately from the ground.


Jack nodded to the hobbit, but Pippin's dirt caked face, still poured tears of grief and sadness.

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PostPosted: August 8th, 2007, 3:08 am 
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William had noticed the unspoken looks between Legolas and Elizabeth. It was strange seeing an elf that in ways resembled himself...but even more strange was the connection between the two.... Will was not sure exactly what it meant, but wasn't sure if he liked it.

He did not speak a word to Elizabeth, but instead stood close to her side with his eyes following Legolas.
-----------------------------------------

He was better off on his own....the ring would put the rest of the Fellowship into almost imminent danger.....as it did Gandalf....

Walking briskly away with hunched shoulders and a blank expression pasted to his small dirty face, Frodo was now a couple yards away from the Fellowship and heading to Moria by himself. It was all his fault....

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PostPosted: August 10th, 2007, 2:31 am 
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(Just a bump....)

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PostPosted: August 10th, 2007, 10:24 pm 
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Numbly, Merry allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. His tears still flowed quietly, but he knew Aragorn was doing the right thing. Still...

Gandalf.

A fresh wave of grief swept over him, and he choked back a sob, aching all over again as he glanced back towards the mine. At first he had restrained his own grief, caring only to comfort Pippin. He knew how unfamiliar death was to the young hobbit, and he understood Pippin better than anyone else. Soothingly, his voice still shaken with grief, he whispered, "Weren't your fault Pip."

How can Aragorn do this to them... so soon? Boromir wondered. He had not even been as close to the wizard as some of the others; and even he felt as though his very heart had been cut. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" he pleaded with Aragorn.

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PostPosted: August 11th, 2007, 2:14 am 
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"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn argued insistently. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come, Boromir. Legolas. Gimli, get them up."

Sheathing his sword, he ran over to where Sam sat and lifted the hobbit into a standing position. "On your feet, Sam," he said in the gentlest tone he could manage given the need for haste.

They needed to get away; did no one understand this? The halflings, he could excuse, and Elizabeth, and perhaps even Legolas, being an elf and thus less familiar with death. But the others had seen battle before; they knew what it was to lose a comrade. Even a moment's pause to grieve while the battle still raged often made the difference between life and death. Respects would be paid at the proper time, but as Barbossa had said, it would dishonor their memory to simply give up. And so they would press on.

"Frodo?" he called out, abruptly noticing the hobbit's absence. Turning around, he spotted the halfling a short distance away, slowly making his way down through the rocks. "Frodo!"


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PostPosted: August 11th, 2007, 2:23 am 
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Aragorn's commanding voice made Frodo stop dead in his tracks, but his soul unwillingly wanted to obey. He wanted to be far from here, away from the sorrow, grief, heartache, and espcecially pain. It was the ring.....why....why did he have to bear it.....Gandalf..... His mind shifted back to the look in Gandalf's eyes before he fell and he felt the tears swell.

Slowly, feeling as if he would collaspe and break into a fit of sobs, his eyes met those of Aragorn, and the tears began to fall.

(Just waiting for Elizabeth to maybe respond to Will....maybe? *hint hint*)

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PostPosted: August 12th, 2007, 12:39 am 
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(Should this scene skip rather?)

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PostPosted: August 12th, 2007, 1:22 am 
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(I really don't know, Pip. Sorry, I can't answer that.)

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PostPosted: August 12th, 2007, 5:20 pm 
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There was reasoning in his words, but Boromir could not help but feel a pang of contention again towards Aragorn. Still, for all the rivalry between them, what he said was truth. He rose, and as if still in the surreal presence of death, began to usher the hobbits onward.

Merry stayed close to Pippin's side; feeling more comfort from the presence of his friend than anyone else. The path was rough and unmarked; but he had a strange confidence in this mysterious Ranger. A memory flashed before him; Aragorn had drove away the wraiths with something like magic in his passion. There was no reason to fear.

The company gradually, pulled out of their sorrow and into the urgency, began moving at a quick pace again. The orcs would be spilling out soon, over the rocks and plains... they had to be away from there. The whole landscape seemed surrounded by majestic mountains... maybe they would flee to those. Merry chanced a glance at Frodo while he allowed that Barbossa to help him and Pippin along... but the hobbits face was blank.

And deeply scarred.

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PostPosted: August 12th, 2007, 6:53 pm 
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Aragorn ran. Had been running for several hours now, pausing only occasionally to ensure the rest of the company was still following, albeit at a considerably slower pace. One foot in front of the other, using the icy waters of the Silverlode as his guide. The rocky hills were hardly conducive to running, but he didn't care. It gave his mind something to do. As long as he kept running, he didn't have to think about anything else. As long as he kept running, his thoughts wouldn't stray to the inevitable subject of Gandalf. As long as he kept running, he could stay in control.

Barbossa followed at a half-hearted sort of jog, keeping pace with the others, but going no faster than he had to. He was growing increasingly aware of his two broken ribs with each jarring step, and for once he found himself almost wishing for the moon so that he could at least see the extent of the damage for himself, and mend it if possible.

Glancing back at the others yet again, Aragorn ran across a shallow, frigid pond and up the nearby hill. He paused, smiling wearily as a welcome sight greeted his eyes. The woods of Lothlorien.

"Come!" he called to the others. "Let us hasten. There lie the woods of Lorien, though we still have miles to go. We would do well to reach the border ere night falls."


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PostPosted: August 13th, 2007, 3:49 am 
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Pippin the hobbit, raised his heavy head and looked ahead.

A beautiful sight, but the beauty of it was a dark blur for him. Nothing wonderful or exciting came out of the enchanted sight, for his thoughts still dwelled upon the Fellowship's lost, their leader, but most of all, a dear old friend. Gandalf.

The Took's usual sparkling eyes of curiosity weakened once more, and fell back down to the ground and looked no more upon the view.


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