“We must remember that one determined person can make a significant difference, and that a small group of determined people can change the course of history.” – Sonia Johnson

“The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.” – Robert Southey

********************

Chapter 11: The Dark Bowels of Death

Buffy stuck close to Spike as they journeyed through the darkened caverns of Moria, knowing that his enhanced eyesight would spot something well before anyone else might. The dwarf’s home reminded her of the Master’s dwelling, its carved-out rocks resembling the ancient vampire’s stronghold in the sewers beneath Sunnydale. She repressed a shudder and took a step closer to Spike. He gifted her with a brief smile, and she took comfort in the gesture. That he could smile without strain showed that he’d yet to pick up on anything lurking in the shadows.

And the Slayer thought that they might actually make it out of this hellhole alive.

The narrow, winding path finally gave way to a steep staircase. Buffy stopped for a second, taking stock of the near-vertical steps and the skeleton bones and broken bits of weaponry blocking their path and squared her shoulders for the seemingly endless climb – she was just grateful Spike was at her back in case she slipped. Eyes focused on the step above her, she put one foot in front of the other until finally, she reached the top. She hazarded a glance back the way she’d come and swallowed hard at the sheer height they’d obtained.

If they had slipped…

At the top of the steps, boulders of various sizes and shapes lay scattered all over the ground. On the far side of the room were three tunnels, and Buffy watched at the elderly wizard looked around with confusion before sitting down on a broken piece of rock.

“I have no memory of this place,” she heard him whisper, and she struggled to stem the rising anxiety that they were lost – with who knew what down there with them.

“’S alright, Slayer. Jus’ takin’ a break, is all,” Spike told her, draping an arm around her shoulder and leading her to one of the pillars that had broken away. He pulled her down next to him, rubbing her arm reassuringly, as they waited for Gandalf to get his bearings. All the while praying that the old man would hurry, his hearing having picked up the distant rumblings of trouble that was slowly headed their way. But his manner gave none of that away. He brushed a kiss against the Slayer’s brow as if they had all the time in the world, and smiled when she leaned against him, her accelerated heart rate in the face of her distress, once more slowing to a normal rhythm.

After an interminable amount of minutes, Gandalf stood and pointed in the direction they were to take. Having whispered a quiet incantation, the tip of the wizard’s staff grew brighter, lighting their way. More steps, this time going down, led them to a huge hall where hundreds upon hundreds of ornately decorated pillars rose before them.

“Behold the great realm of the Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf,” Gandalf murmured just loud enough for them all to hear.

Buffy lost count as she walked among the stone edifices, awestricken at the sheer size of the dwarf’s home. Again, she felt like she’d been sucked into a fairy tale. That any second now, she’d wake to find herself in bed – alone.

Gimli’s shout brought her out of her reverie, and she and the others watched as he raced towards a half-opened door. Gandalf tried to call him back, to keep them moving forward, but he wouldn’t answer. The dwarf’s bellowed denial gave way to tears, loud, anguished sobs that drifted back to where they stood outside.

Gandalf heaved a sigh and followed, signaling for the others to do the same. They entered the room and saw Gimli kneeling before what looked like a tomb. The group looked on in silence as the wizard read the inscription carved on the top.

“‘Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.’ He is dead then. It's as I feared.” Gandalf looked around and noticed a book held protectively by a set of skeletal remains propped next to the tomb. He handed his staff and hat to Pippin and pulled the book loose, opening it to the last written page and reciting, “They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming.”

“We must move on,” Legolas whispered to Aragorn. “We cannot linger.”

Crash.

The sudden crash sounded like a gunshot in the deathly silent room, and all eyes swiveled to where Pippin stood by a well looking guilty.

“Stupid git!” Spike hissed.

Gandalf stalked over to Pippin and ripped his things away, glaring at the hobbit for putting them in needless danger. The group waited with baited breath to see if the noise had been heard, if they’d been found out.

They’d almost breathed a sigh of relief when a distant rumbling sounded from the pits of the well.

Boromir raced to the open doorway and almost receive an arrow to the head for his troubles. Spike heard the whistle of the arrows as they sliced through the air to embed themselves into the wooden door and raced to the human’s side to help close it. Between the two of them, they got the door shut, then barricaded it with the axes Aragorn tossed their way.

As the sounds of running footsteps drew near, the members of the fellowship prepared to do battle. Buffy, Legolas, Spike, and Aragorn stood in front; bows cocked and ready to fire. Boromir was a step behind them, sword poised and at the ready. Gimli was perched atop the tomb, eager for the coming fight. Gandalf stood further inside, the hobbits – brandishing their smaller swords – clustered behind him. They stood thus, waiting… watching as the wooden doors trembled and started to give beneath the Orcs’ axes.

The first holes appeared in the door and Legolas quickly released his arrow; a high shriek sounded, proving his aim true. The others took aim and fired their bows as well, one right after the other. They kept at it until the doors suddenly caved under the strain and the room began to fill with Orcs.

Fighting began in earnest then, the sound of steel clanking against steel rang out as the Fellowship took on the sea of Orcs that flooded the room.

***

Buffy braced for the first wave, willing herself not to fall as the demons stormed inside. She gave a quick glance towards Spike to make sure that he was okay, then engaged the Orcs as they came her way. As the first one charged her, its sword held high and screaming like a banshee, she ducked under it and swung her sword in a downward arc. She knew it was dead by the depth of her cut, and she followed through with her swing until she was facing the next opponent.

He was smarter than his friend, but still dumb by her standards. He didn’t rush her like the other had; instead, the Orc used its sword in a hacking motion back and forth about waist high as it drew near, leaving its head vulnerable. Just the place for her dagger to sink home.

A loud snarl drew her attention towards the entryway, and she just managed to leap to the side as a huge beast – easily three times her height – forced its way inside. What had Boromir called it? A Cave Troll? She quickly dispatched another Orc and watched as Legolas fired an arrow at the towering beast. It landed in the thing’s chest, not even slowing it down. Hell, to her, it looked like it pissed the thing off even more – which was so just what they needed. The elf fired a few more arrows, again his aim true. Again, having little effect. It was going to take more than arrows to bring the troll down.

And unfortunately, everyone seemed to be busy at the moment.

Mindful of the beast’s destructive hammer, she wormed her way around behind it and started hacking at the back of its legs. The troll swung around, its huge hammer catching the Slayer in the ribs and sending her flying into the far wall.

“Smart move, Buffy,” she grumbled to herself as she struggled to pick herself up off the ground. She must have blacked out for a second, because suddenly Spike was leaning over her, oblivious to the danger to himself.

“Are you all right, luv?”

“Yeah…someone catch the license plate of the bus that hit me?” she joked.

“’S not funny, Slayer. You coulda’ been killed. What in the bloody hell possessed—”

“Um, do you think you can yell at me later, we’re kinda in the middle of something here…”

“Yeah, about that. Sorry to have to do this to you, pet…” His face shifted, and understanding dawned on her face as she realized his intentions. She managed to nod her assent just seconds before he struck.

***

Spike was fast, taking a few, long pulls before abruptly pulling away and yelling at Legolas in elvish to watch over Buffy. Then he rose to his feet and attacked the giant troll. The thing never knew what hit him, reeling under the claws and fangs that struck without relent. It had no means of defense against the vampire, its large, bulky body and slow movements unable to stop the speedy precision of its attacker. Finally, the numerous wounds were too great and it collapsed to the ground, not to move again.

The sudden shout of Frodo’s name by Sam drew everyone’s attention, and it seemed as if the entire room watched in slow motion as an Orc got in a lucky shot, practically skewering the tiny hobbit with its spear. It galvanized the group into action, giving them that last bit of energy to turn the tide in their favor and rout the remaining Orcs.

When the final shot of steel rang out, all but Buffy and Legolas rushed towards the fallen hobbit. Aragorn was the first to gain his side. Softly calling out his name, the ranger carefully turned Frodo over, and marveled that he was still alive.

“You should be dead. That spear would have skewered a wild boar,” Aragorn whispered in awe.

“I think there’s more to this hobbit than meets the eye,” Gandalf gently chided.

Frodo, gasping for breath, pulled his shirt apart, showing his wizard friend and the others the Mithril armor that had been given him by Bilbo.

“Mithril! You are full of surprises, Master Baggins,” Gimli commented.

With the ring-bearer safe, Spike turned towards the Slayer, and saw her slowly approaching the group with the help of Legolas.

“Thank you, my friend,” he told the elf, taking her into his arms. He stilled suddenly, commanding the others to silence. His eyes sought out those of Gandalf’s and the two shared a look before the wizard shouted, “To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!”

The group raced out of the room, desperate not to be closed in with no hope of escape, their deaths like that of the dwarfs before them. With adrenaline pumping through their systems, they ran down the pillared hall, trying to keep the Orcs behind them. But, there were too many, climbing down the pillars, moving in from all sides, until just a small circle separated the Fellowship from the army of Orcs.

Grossly outnumbered, they were still determined to fight their way out, their weapons at the ready for the slightest provocation.

***

Spike set Buffy down and shoved her behind him. His eyes watched the teaming crowd of Orcs as they jostled closer, waiting for the one that dared get within striking distance. Things didn’t look too good, and while he was sure he could fight his way through and make a hole for his escape, the others wouldn’t fare as well.

An echoing roar rumbled through the hall, causing his back to stiffen. He took note of the Orcs, how they shifted nervously as they cast frightened looks towards the source of the sound. Spike followed their gaze, still mindful of the Orcs closest to him, and watched as the far entrance began to glow a fiery orange.

“What is this new devilry?” Boromir whispered.

Spike watched, stunned, as the massive army of Orcs scattered without further provocation. “Whatever it is, it’s got those Orcs spooked.”

“It’s a Balrog. A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you,” Gandalf told them. “Run!”

Spike didn’t have to be told twice; he picked up the slayer and took off. The others followed after him. Aragorn was set to bring up the rear when he noticed the wizard hadn’t moved to follow, was in fact, staring transfixed as the fiery demon filled the archway – which stood several stories high – and stepped into view.

“Gandalf?”

“Come, we must hurry,” the wizard told him, casting one last glance before turning and running after the others.

********************

Spike raced through the arched doorway and down the steps…and nearly went over the ledge before he could stop himself. He would have, it weren’t for Legolas gripping the back of his tunic and jerking him backwards. As it was, he crashed back against the steps on top of the elf, the slayer landing with a grunt on top of him.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, setting Buffy aside on the steps and gaining his feet. He walked to the edge and peered down. The drop seemed endless, and he silently thanked the elf for his quick reflexes.

As the others crowded on the step, he turned around. Spike took in the heaving figures of the assembled Fellowship before landing on the wizard. He was surprised to see fear in their depths; the man was usually so stoic. The fiery demon had him spooked. Him too, if the truth be told. Sunlight hadn’t been a problem for the vampire, but he didn’t want to press his luck with the hulking creature slowly stalking them.

“Lead them on Aragorn. Go! Quickly. The bridge is near.”

“Gandalf?”

“Do as I say!” the wizard yelled. “Swords are no more use here.”

“He’s right, Aragorn,” Spike told him in elvish. “This is for the wizard to handle. Legolas, the stairs. Go!”

The elf nodded and took the lead. Boromir and the hobbits right behind him.

“Come on, pet. Time to get a move on.” He helped the slayer to her feet, urging her to follow after the others. Gimli offered himself as a crutch, and together the two started down the endless zigzag of steps, bent on reaching the bridge before the fiery demon was upon them.

“Aragorn, it’s time to go.”

“But…”

“Brother, leave Gandalf to do what he must. Do not let his actions be in vain. We must think of the ring bearer,” Spike told him. “He will not make it without us.”

“Yes. Frodo.” Aragorn turned towards the wizard, eyes heavy with sorrow. “I’m sorry, Gandalf.”

The two rangers were off after that, hurrying to catch up with the others. Neither noticed how Gandalf trailed after them for a bit, how he looked for an ideal spot for his confrontation with the demon. The pair finally caught up with the group as they reached a slight chasm in the bridge.

Legolas was the first to jump across the expanse, landing nimbly on the other side. He turned, gesturing for the others to follow. Boromir grabbed a hobbit under either arm and was right after the elf.

Then the arrows began raining down. The Orcs had come back, braving the Balrog to prevent the Fellowship from escaping. Legolas raised his bow and took out one of their sharpshooters, urging the others to hurry.

Buffy grabbed Sam and tossed him to the other side into Boromir’s waiting arms, ignoring the severe pain in her ribs as she did so. She’d no doubt cracked, if not broken, a few ribs.

“Nobody tosses a dwarf,” Gimli announced and took a running leap across the gaping hole. His feet touched the edge of the bridge on the other side but he hadn’t enough momentum to carry him the rest of the way. Legolas grasped him by the beard and pulled him to safety, and in the next second fired another round of arrows.

Buffy was set to jump, but Spike beat her to the punch, scooping her up and vaulting to the other side. He set her down immediately, urging her to get the others across the bridge and out of the line of arrows. Then he joined Legolas, snagging his bow and searching out any available target.

The resounding crash jolted him around. One of the cave’s stone stalactites had broken away and crashed onto the bridge, making the gap between too great for his brother to jump. Another crash sounded and a second stalactite smashed down on the bridge behind them, leaving Aragorn and Frodo teetering precariously between the two edges of the bridge.

Spike watched helplessly, the arrows momentarily forgotten, as the slim column rocked back and forth on its base and he tried to will it to come forward, towards him, rather than to the side.

The fates must have been smiling on Aragorn because the broken piece of bridge shifted forward towards him and Legolas, and his eyes locked on those of his brother’s, telling him without words to prepare to jump. He nodded back in understanding and slipped a reassuring arm around the hobbit as the structure continued to fall their way.

The stone column slammed into their edge of the bridge with the weight of a freight train, sending the human and the hobbit tumbling against Spike and Legolas. Seconds later, the piece of bridge fell to the side, leaving a gap too great for even the demon to cross.

Spike slapped his brother on the back and urged the others to safety. He cast a last glance at the wizard and saw him engage the demon. Watched entranced as the plucky little bugger gave the demon what for.

But it wasn’t enough, the demon fell down into bottomless cave, its fiery whip wrapping around the wizard’s ankle and taking him with it.

The hobbits bellowed denial sounded throughout the cavern and triggered a wave of arrows that rained down in their direction. Spike backpedaled, seeking shelter behind a stone wall. He hurried around the corner and caught up with the group, taking the lead after hoisting the Slayer into his arms. They hurried up the steps, desperate to leave Moria behind.

Spike was never so happy to see the sun at the end of the tunnel. Though a creature of darkness, he was grateful to leave the cursed cavern behind.