Moria
Author: Silver Lightning.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or settings in this piece of work. J.R.R.Tolkien does. This is simply a piece of writing (I dare not call it a story) by a fan of Tolkien and all his works.
Notes: This is simply a POV piece of Moria. I came up with it and wrote it in my Thursday Detention. It's purely my ideas on what Legolas may have been thinking at that time. I'm not sure if it is point of view or simply an inner monologue. But whatever it is, I hope you enjoy. Please tell me what you think.
Dedicated to my friends Loz and Laz. Luv ya guys.
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Moria. Oh Valar, even the name of that place has always sent shivers of fear down my spine. The thought of being surrounded by darkness and unable to leave it, for days has haunted me.

To not be able to see the sun or the moon and stars. To not be able to smell the earth that is beneath my feet and the feet of my companions. Not able to feel the wind and sun on my face, and the trees. Oh Valar, to be unable to see, smell, touch and talk to the trees of Middle Earth.

That thought is almost unbearable, just as any nightmarish thoughts of the darkness of Moria are. But those were only thoughts and this is reality. A reality which is so much more harsh, bleak and dreadful than I could ever have imagined in all my innumerable years.

What was rumoured to be inside this mine is true. Goblins, orcs and something else. Something that I would have no knowledge of except for the leaden weight in my chest and the cool and bitter chill of evil, that it sends out to surround both itself and it's territory. The marking of fear and dread, feel to me as cold as ice, but somehow they burn like fire.

I know of no other way to explain it, though even as I sit here in this guardroom, with the rest of the Fellowship surrounding me and sleeping peacefully as Gandalf stands watch, I can feel that cold fire enveloping me and filling all my senses.

I'm sure that Gandalf can feel it also, yet if he passed through here years ago he must have known, and if that is the case why did he suggest we go through this accursed place, when we were on Caradhras?

Caradhras, I can remember that as clearly as if I was still there. I can still feel the anxiety for the Fellowship, for Gandalf, for my dear friend Aragorn and Frodo, the ring bearer, who is so small and yet carries a burden so large. I can remember the slight sting of the cold wind on my cheeks and hear the v light crunch of the snow beneath my feet, as I ran over it lightly. Yes I remember.

Just as I remember the last night sky that I saw, right before the Gates of Moria, beside that monstrous lake, underneath the holly trees. Those trees. They were not what they had once been; yet to me they seemed the most beautiful thing to behold in this Dwarvish domain.

How I wish I were there, even with the lake's watcher guarding the now ruined entrance. How I wish that I were in Rivendell, or even better, back in my own dear Mirkwood, and never having heard of the One Ring. Or yet still greater, how I wish the ring had never been forged, and that Sauron had never existed. Oh how I wish!

But wishes are useless, this is reality. This small, cramped, bare and darkened room, in the middle of the deepest, most feared and most secretive of the Dwarve mines. In the middle of Moria, is my reality.

Oh Valar. How much longer must I bear my fear of this dark place?


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