“We are here,” Gandalf announced, taking a little time to explain to the others the significance of the holly. “Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves.” 

True to his grumbling nature, Gimli spoke up. “It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned.” 

His own thoughts were split between the task at hand, and the woman—quieter than normal--who stood a little ways off to herself, but Legolas caught the implication in the dwarf’s words. “I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves,” he countered, looking pointedly at Gimli. 

Kiah watched the two stand off as they did at Elrond’s Council, barely registering Gandalf serve as mediator or referee. She didn’t pay attention to Sam’s tearful farewell to his horse Bill, either. Her powerful mind was elsewhere, namely on the futility of her situation. I know I’m somewhere in somebody’s past, but damn…how backwards can things be? “No, Kiah, the time has not come. Wait, Strong One.” Shit…at this rate I’ll be dead and buried, sleeping in my grave. Something has got to give; I don’t think I can take another step and another risk at getting killed when I don’t have to…not this way. All we needed was one damn shield on the mountain and we wouldn’t be in this cesspool, but no, who would listen? I’m in the fuckin’ stone age, where the rule of the day is “Me, big strong man…you, little weak woman.”  

If it weren’t for Merry passing her some of the food and other travel gear from the horse, Kiah would’ve probably continued her mental tirade. When the Halfling asked what was wrong, she brushed it off, saying it was nothing. Clearing her head to focus on the next part of their quest, she watched as Gandalf stood, waiting. 

“Well, we’re here and ready, but where are the doors?” Merry asked, a question that was on everyone’s mind. 

Spoken with a tad more pride than necessary, Gimli answered, “Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut. They are invisible, and their own masters cannot find them or open them, if their secret is forgotten.” 

Gandalf corrected, “But this door was not made to be a secret known only to Dwarves. Eyes that know what to look for may discover the signs.” 

All watched as he ran a large hand over the smooth surface, uttering something beneath his breath. As if on cue, the moon broke through when he stood back, shining on the surface of the wall. To everyone’s surprise, faint silver lines slowly appeared, revealing two columns crowned by an arch adorned with Elvish lettering. Directly below was a crown flanked by seven starts, and below that symbol was one of a hammer and anvil. Two trees were designed to wrap their limbs around the columns, and in the center of them was a large star. Gimli and Legolas were somewhat amazed to see the signs of Durin, the Tree of the High Elves, and the Star of the House of Feanor. 

“What does the arch say, Gandalf? I do not recognize the Elvish writing,” stated Frodo. 

“They only say The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.” 

Merry frowned a bit. “And what does that mean?” 

The wizard winked at him. “That is easy enough, my young hobbit. If you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open.” 

“Do you know the password?” Frodo asked, feeling the weight of the ring bare down even more. 

Gandalf’s amiable look began to fade as he slowly came to an ugly truth. “No.” 

“I’ll be damned,” said Kiah. “What did I tell you at the beginning, Gandalf? This is the biggest fubar known in the damn universe.” She shook her and sat down on a stump, anger rolling off of her to mingle with Boromir’s. 

“Then what was the use of bringing us to this accursed spot? You told us you have once passed through the Mines. How could that be, if you did not know how to enter?” he demanded. 

The wizard cocked a bushy eyebrow at the Gondorian. “I do not know the word, Boromir—yet. But we shall soon see.” After that, Gandalf set about issuing enchanted words at the doors…lots of enchanted words. When one phrase yielded no result, he grunted and paused, thinking of another one and trying that. 

Occasionally Legolas eyed the lake, distrusting its appearance with each passing second. Something was off, and he could feel it. As he looked around, his gaze fell on Kiah still sitting on the stump. Since the Warg attack, one question stood firmly in his mind: who is Riddick? Was he—and the elf assumed he was a male—a friend? If so, what kind? Was he more than a friend? A lover? 

But what of Cadrieldur? What does he mean to you, if this Riddick person means more? he wondered as he walked to her location. 

“How are you faring, Arwen en amin?” he asked. 

Kiah looked at him, recognizing the phrase Thranduil’s captain had called her. “Comme ci, comme ca…so-so. You?” 

Legolas’ eyes focused on her face, feeling somewhat stunned by the way her eyes were suddenly appealing to him. “I suppose I am the same, comme ci, comme ca. We should have chosen a different path to Mordor.” 

“I heard that,” she said, nodding in agreement. 

The elf paused for a moment; he knew what he wanted to say, he even felt he had a right to do so. But he also didn’t want to wreck the developing peace with her. Nevertheless, he asked, “Kiah…who is Riddick?” 

The telekinetic turned her head sharply, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know that name?’ she slowly asked. 

“You said it the other night, after the Wargs.” When her stare seemed to harden, he reminded her, “Elvish hearing can detect event the faintest of whispers. Who is this Riddick you wish to see?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Because,” Legolas paused again. “I was under the impression that you wanted to see another.” 

Kiah stood from the stump, her arms crossed over her chest. “And who would that be, prince Legolas?” 

The elf met her stare, mirroring her own arm movement. “Cadrieldur, my mentor and friend.” 

The petite woman blinked a few times, the right side of her mouth threatening to curl into a grin. 

“He cares for you, yet you find that amusing,” he stated, disbelief and insult slipping into his tone. 

The threat of Kiah’s smile faded fast. “How do you know how Cadrieldur feels? What, are you telepathic, or empathic as well?” She lowered her arms, the false implication of Legolas’ words getting to her. “It’s really none of your business, but I can’t let you hop, skip, and jump around here with a bad understanding. Your mentor and I are friends, and that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t come here to find a relationship with a being that doesn’t even exist in my world or time. I didn’t have much of a choice in this, remember?” 

“Then who is Riddick? Is he the reason you do not reciprocate my friend’s feelings?” Legolas persisted. He waited for the telekinetic to answer, all the while asking himself just why he was so concerned. Why did this stranger’s name bother him so? 

Kiah considered several answers, all which would’ve pissed the elf off and put them where they had started, at each other’s throats. Instead, after a tense moment and realizing that half of the Company was watching them, she said slow and clear, “Riddick is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.” Her light eyes stared intensely at Legolas, silently challenging him to say something else. 

The elf was not pleased with the cryptic answer, nor was he thrilled with the silent gauntlet Kiah had just thrown. After a spell—and catching Aragorn’s curious _expression—he asked in a rushed, annoyed tone, “Must every conversation be a challenge with you?” 

“If the conversationalist is an arrogant elf who’s too nosy for his own good, the answer is yes,” she quipped. She was about to say something else when all heard and saw a rippling effect coming from the stagnant lake. 

Even Gandalf paused from his key search to study the troubled water, but it didn’t completely distract him from his present course. He continued testing command after command, while the others kept a wary watch. Suddenly the wizard barked a short laugh. 

“Of course! How simple!” He picked up his staff and declared in a strong voice, “Mellon”. 

Slowly the doorway was clearly outlined, dividing in the middle and opening wide. Amused by the Company’s facial _expression, Gandalf explained that the writings on the door should have been translated “Say ‘Friend” and Enter”, and that he only had to say the elvish word for “friend”. 

Sorely tempted otherwise, Kiah made no comment; she gathered her things and began to move towards the opening after Frodo. Suddenly, both the telekinetic and hobbit felt something seize their ankles and pull them backwards. The rest of the Fellowship turned around and saw the source of the earlier ripple emerge, a monstrous beast lashing out its tentacles at the band of ten. Before Kiah could issue forth a scream, Legolas had already drawn and shot an arrow through the beast’s arm that held her up, sending her into a tumble to the shore. She landed on her right side but quickly rolled onto her knees and rising, her swords withdrawn and slicing another tentacle away. 

When she spotted Frodo lifted in the air and pulled toward the beast’s mouth, she shouted to Boromir, “Get Frodo!” At that moment another tentacle came straight for her, but found an arrow from the elf and a chop from Aragorn instead. The exiled king had shoved her to the side, a hard blow that sent her sprawling backwards. 

“Get inside!” he yelled at her, and was prepared to shove her past the doors if Gandalf hadn’t grabbed her. Aragorn returned to fighting the beast, succeeding in rescuing the Ringbearer and pulling him to the gate. Their watery attacker, however, did not let up, and was advancing as the Company retreated further inside. In its haste to snatch the hobbit and telekinetic, its tentacles flayed about so wildly that they began knocking the walls down on top of it, thus trapping itself underneath and the Fellowship within Moria. 

Kiah sheathed her weapons and leaned against a wall, trying to catch her breath and to understand why she was attacked. The creature going after Frodo made sense, since he was the Ringbearer; but why her? Did it detect that she was from a different place, and possessed the psionic power? In the midst of these questions, an old and unwanted feeling began to creep over her skin. As Gimli went on about the feast and hospitality awaiting them, the feeling kept moving, seeping through her skin and slowly coursing its way to her heart. When Gandalf risked using magic to light his staff, the sensation reached the center of Kiah, and settled in deep when Boromir spoke up. 

“This place is a tomb,” he said flatly. And it was, for revealed to the Fellowship were bones and skulls, some of Durin’s people, others of another kind. 

Gimli cried out in shock and wailed, a sight that surprised Legolas but not more than the look on the telekinetic’s face: to him, it seemed as if she had just seen a ghost. “Kiah,” he called calmly, trying to get her attention but failing. He motioned to Gandalf, who was also curious about her _expression but said nothing. The elf observed her tightly-clenched fists, the way her jaw was slowly clamping down, the way her eye color shifted from hazel to green. Her chest rose and fell quicker than normal, and then she shut her eyes tightly. Pip called out to her as well, getting no reaction until he lightly touched her right arm. 

Kiah jumped and whirled on him, her left fist poised to strike. Just as her eyes flew open, a tear escaped quickly down her right cheek. The frightened hobbit stepped back, putting enough space between himself and the telekinetic to allow Legolas to move forward. 

“Kiah, it is Legolas. What is wrong?” he whispered in elvish and waited until her gaze focused on him. He didn’t reach out to her, for fear of shocking her enough to reveal her true gift. “Are you alright?” 

She stared blankly at him and then panned her eyes to the others, to fall lastly on the terrified yet concerned Pip. As she slowly lowered her fist, she asked the young hobbit, “Did I hurt you?” 

Still afraid and confused, all he could do was shake his head. 

Kiah lowered her head, whispering, “Mon pauvre ami. Je suis desole. I’m sorry, Pip.” She extended her right hand, and was relieved when he tentatively took it. “I was…remembering something when you touched me.” 

“It was painful, wasn’t it?” he asked. 

“Very, mon ami, my friend.” She looked up and saw that the others were still regarding her, some sympathetic and others questioning. “I’m alright, just had a bad memory.” She shook her head once at Legolas, when it looked like he wanted to say something, and moved closer to Gandalf who continued to lead the way. The further they walked, the further she tried to leave the image of her seeing her aunt Lucille screaming in anger and pain as the Institute’s guards carried her from their holding cell that one last time. Kiah had tried to stop them, but was felled when one of the medical staff charged her temple pads, sending forth a surge of power that had temporarily short-circuited her telekinesis and left her immobile. 

“She carries a deep wound within, one that has not completely healed,” said Aragorn to the elf prince as they moved further into the mines. 

“I must confess I have not sensed such anger and grief in another being before. She is so small; how can she possess so much?” Legolas observed before adding with harshness, “Her husband was a fool to hurt her in such a way…an arrogant and ignorant fool. If there is any justice, his punishment should have been equal to the pain he caused her.” 

Aragorn regarded his friend, raising an eyebrow at the bitter change in Legolas’ tone. He said nothing about it for the time being, but shifted his attention to their present course. 

The Fellowship continued their journey through Moria, pausing once to eat a quick meal, another when they came across three tunnels, none of which were familiar to Gandalf. “I have no memory of this place,” he had said, which did nothing to elevate their already sinking moods. Kiah sat a little ways from the group, seemingly withdrawn. All around her she could smell and feel nothing but death. Silently, she berated herself for taking her two years of peace and tranquility with her daughter for granted. Absently she traced a pattern in the loose gravel on the ground, oblivious to Legolas who had joined her. 

Quietly the elf studied her profile—the small frown creasing her brow, the wavy tendrils that had freed themselves from her ponytail to adorn her temples, the plush fullness of her lips, the curve of her chin. Even without the lighting that the wizard’s staff still provided, he could still see the slight smudge of dirt coursing from her right temple down her jaw. Grime from their recent scrap had caked around her finger nails. Kiah looked nothing like the creature who had appeared from thin air in Mirkwood, wearing clothing that revealed the curve of her physique. Nor did she resemble the petite woman in the dress that had enchanted his friend on her second night there. And yet she is still pretty, he thought. When she turned her head and realized who was sitting next to her, Legolas caught a glimpse of her pain and sadness before she shut them away and stood up. 

“”I wish to apologize,” he said, halting her departure. 

Kiah looked down at him, still crouched on the ground. “For what?” 

Legolas regarded her as he stood straight. “For being suspicious of your motives concerning Cadrieldur and this Riddick person. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.” He gave her a small, wry smile. “It is strange how I always manage to make myself look and sound like a child around you, when that is never my intention.” 

The telekinetic slightly tilted her head to the left, studying the elf before shrugging and walking away. “Forget about it. You were just being concerned for your friend, and I respect that.” 

“Kiah.” 

She stopped and turned. “Yes?” 

For a strange and brief moment, the elf was stunned into silence; he forgot what he wanted to say, because all he could do was look at her. What is wrong with me now? Why can I not speak? Before he could regain his speech, Gandalf made his selection of the tunnel to follow, and the Fellowship resumed their course. 

Their path was downward and winding, but eventually they came across a two-story room littered with some skeletons along the walls, another against a well, and a large slab of stone. The wizard read the runes engraved on one end: “Balin, Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.” 

“He is dead then,” said Frodo, who had grown quiet after his chat with Gandalf about the Gollum creature. 

Gimli cried out in grief, bowing before the stone coffin and resting his head against it. Kiah sympathized with the dwarf, understanding his pain far more than the others could. They gave him a moment of silence, looking away to allow him some privacy. After a brief spell, the wizard spotted a large book still grasped by the bony hands of a fallen defender of Moria. He pried the book away and opened it, hoping for some clue as to what happened. The others panned around the tomb, internally warring with the dread and death that permeated the stuffy air. 

“’We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and second hall’,” Gandalf read allowed. He skipped some smeared parts and continued, “’The Watcher in the Water took Oin. We cannot get out…they are coming’.” 

While the wizard told the story, Pippin inched further away, the fear mounting inside of him. His backward steps brought him close to the well guarded by the bone warrior…too close. To everyone’s dismay, he accidentally brushed against the skeleton, sending it plummeting down the well, its armor clinking and clanking against the diameter, chains and all. 

Angrily Gandalf strode to him and practically yelled, “Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance!” 

Pip seemed to shrink before him, which prompted Kiah to speak in his defense. “Watch it, Gandalf! Can’t you see he’s scared enough as it is?” She would have said more until they heard drums sounding from the depths of the well. As the noise traveled up, it seemed to be joined by more drums at each level. 

Frodo’s sword from Bilbo, “Sting”, began to glow a fluorescent blue, a telltale sign that orcs were near. Each Fellowship member withdrew their weapons, and took their stance. Boromir made himself the scout and ventured to poke his head outside the doors. Three seconds later, an arrow buried itself in the structure, barely missing his head. 

He reared back and slammed the doors. In a tone that said ‘I don’t believe this,’ he informed the Fellowship, “They have a cave troll.” 

“Good,” growled out Gimli who leaped onto Balin’s slab and began tossing his large axe from hand to hand, his eyes flashing and blood boiling for revenge. “Let them come.” 

Not long afterward, their enemy answered the dwarf’s request and smashed through the doors in one large black wave of evil. Kiah was more prepared to see the hideous, foul-smelling, slimy creatures than she was for the Wargs, for Cadrieldur gave her full descriptions of the race; survival instinct and her training kicked in high gear, her swords lopping off the heads of two Orcs before she even thought about it. 

From behind her and the others, the hobbits gathered their courage and gave out a mighty yell for the Shire, then charged into the fray. As if possessed by the spirits of his fallen kinsmen, Gimli swung his battle axe fierce and precise, slicing the first wave of their attackers back. Aragorn and Boromir spared none in their defense of the tomb; their long broadswords sang through the air, crashing through metal, sinew, and bone. 

From the corner of his eye, the Steward of Gondor saw Kiah move quickly against the Orcs trying to surround her. Her weapons were already black to the hilt from their spilt blood, but she was undeterred by it; she kept on fighting—lunging, slicing, kicking, and punching her way out of a corner. Her technique and ferocity unwittingly garnered her more respect and acceptance in Boromir’s mind. 

Kiah’s eyes scanned for the others’ status, seeing that everyone was engaged in battle; she spotted Legolas firing his arrows like missiles, each one finding a target in either the head or the heart. Damn, he is good, she thought before fending off another attack. When the second wave came through the doors, bringing with them the humongous cave troll, she caught Gandalf’s eye and silently asked him if the “appointed time” had come. She growled when he shook his head once. Angered, she yelled out, “I will not die in this fucking place!” and chopped the new Orcs back, making sure to keep out of the troll’s way for the time being. 

Less than a minute, from behind her, she heard a scream and other voices shout, “No! Frodo!” She ventured a glance and saw that the troll had chased the hobbit to the second level and pierced him through with its spear. As if in slow motion, the small body slid down the wall. The rest of the Fellowship shouted out, except for Kiah. She couldn’t hear Gandalf yell “No!” to her when he could her eyes shift from hazel to green, and her left sword leaving her hand to hover. She couldn’t hear Legolas shout “Kiah, stop! It is not time!” while he was surrounded by a complete circle of Orcs. All she could hear was the voice in her head saying slow and cold: This…ends…now. 

Her eyes focused on the sword which whirled through the air like a boomerang, lopping off every single head of the creatures surrounding the elf. Encasing herself in a TK shield, she extended her left hand and silently called her weapon back. For one moment, all fighting ceased, all eyes focused on the woman whose eyes flashed a brilliant and terrible green. No sooner than her sword was three feet in front of her did Kiah quickly rotated her arm 90 degrees away from her chest, piercing another creature through its abdomen and impaling it onto a wall. With that action, the fighting recommenced. 

 

Elsewhere, in a chamber room in Orthanc, the lure of the palantir called to the head of Gandalf’s Order, Saruman. Something that was not of his world was disturbing the magics. Just as Kiah launched her first full TK attack, the traitorous wizard saw her gift’s aura, radiating like a beacon within the deathtrap of Moria. 

“What is this, old friend?” he asked with a smirk on his weathered face. He commanded the mystical object to reveal the source of the power, and it promptly zoomed in to Kiah’s face. A thought formed in his mind, which grew along with his old, evil smile. “I must say, Mithrandir, you have outdone yourself, or would have. You have succeeded in keeping this new and powerful creature a secret from me; for how long?…It is no matter. She will make an excellent addition to my plan for dominion of this world.” 

A wave of his hand over the surface of the palantir caused it to fog and dissipate her image. Saruman took up his staff and left the room, making his way down the bowels of Orthanc to witness the birthing of his engineered Uruk-Hai, and to formulate a plan to capture the Ringbearer and the dark-skinned creature with the flashing emerald eyes. Indeed, she will make an excellent addition. Gandalf was a fool not to join with me; now there will be no recourse. 

 

It was not difficult for Legolas to maintain his concentration on avoiding the deadly swings of the cave troll and on observing Kiah’s power unleashed. He sensed that she was not fully using her gift, that she was holding back; but the amount she did exert was more than damaging to the Orcs. After seeing the way she lifted two of their kind without touching them high in the air and slam them headfirst into the ground, crushing their skulls into a gross, dark pudding of brain and bone, they avoided her like the plague. Instead, they stepped up their attack on the rest of the Fellowship, a move that was still to their disadvantage.  

Eventually the wave of Orcs faded, leaving just the troll to defeat. Kiah watched as Legolas practically flew up a make-shift ramp onto the second level of the tomb and launch two arrows into the back of the troll’s head. The massive beast whirled around, screaming in angry pain, and brought its mace down upon the elf, who sidestepped to the left and avoided the blow. Again the troll swung, and this time Legolas moved to the right. Gimli drew the beast’s attention from the elf, swinging his bloody axe and connecting with its leg. The monster turned around with another bellow, and Kiah watched how fast and light the elf leapt onto its head, and pumped two arrows straight through the top. 

Legolas landed on his feet like a cat, and reached behind for another arrow, but his quiver was empty. Spotting one nested the heart of an orc, Kiah “called” it forth and sent it the elf. The troll raised his mace one final time, intent on crushing Thranduil’s son. Unfortunate for him, he couldn’t move, for the telekinetic held his weapon at bay long enough for Legolas to fire that arrow straight into the beast’s open mouth. The troll tried to yell, but the sound was only a loud groan as its eyes rolled up and his body came crashing down, the shockwave lifting everyone up a bit. 

Kiah dropped her TK shield, and raced to Frodo along with the others; the surprised, wary looks she received from all except Gandalf, Legolas, and a grieving Same drew her up short. The Ringbearer himself looked gaunt and pale, leaning against the wall, the troll’s spear protruding from his chest. Sam was distraught, hovering over his friend’s body as Aragorn pulled out the offending weapon. He examined the spear’s points, marveled by the lack of blood. Kneeling before Frodo, he opened the hobbit’s coat and saw a flash of silver between the holes rented by the troll’s weapon through his undershirt. “What is this?” the exiled king asked. 

The wizard, pausing in his glare at Kiah, turned and regarded the hobbit as he was coming to. “There is more to this Halfling that meets the eye,” he answered, a small approving grin on his lips. To Gimli’s amazement and wonder, the silvery flash was actually mithril, a coat of mail forged of a metal that not even the troll’s spear could penetrate. 

While the rest of the Fellowship expressed their relief that the Ringbearer was still alive, Kiah had stepped back down to the lower level, watching the door. Legolas slipped away from the small group—though Aragorn’s eyes followed him—and stood behind her. He was startled when she spoke. 

“If you’re going to preach to me about screwing up, save it, Legolas. We have other things to worry about, like how the hell we’re going to get out of this damn grave.” 

The elf chanced resting a hand on her shoulder; the contact was brief as she stepped away, whirling around when Gandalf called out her name. Though he felt guilty, Legolas was glad that for once, her anger wasn’t directed at him. 

“You!” she shouted, ignoring the others who had helped Frodo back to his feet and were making their way towards the bottom floor. Her ire and her frustration were directed solely at Gandalf, who matched her glare for glare. “You have got to be either the stupidest or most arrogant fool I have ever met! What the hell made you think we could just stroll through this graveyard scratch-free? Frodo almost died because of your piss-poor leadership!” 

“And you have jeopardized the safety of everyone here, Kiah!” the wizard fired back. “This was not the time or place to reveal your gift. And now, because your impatience, Saruman and possibly Sauron may know who and where you are!” 

“Who said this wasn’t the time?” she countered. “You? The Valar? Well you know what? Fuck you, and fuck your precious absent Valar! This is my power to control, not yours, and I will use it when I want to, especially to save someone’s life!” 

Legolas, possessing the cooler head, stepped between the two to end the argument. “We have no time for this, my friends. If we are to have any hope of survival, we must depart now. Gandalf, what is the next step in this mission? Where do we go?” 

The wizard took a deep breath before answering. “The bridge of Khazad-dum.” 

“Then we must go to the bridge,” the elf answered, stepping aside to let Gandalf lead. The others kept a wide path from Kiah, something that though he understood why, it still annoyed him. “Tula, Arwen en amin,” he urged, his hand outstretched. 

She looked at the hand, the long and slender fingers splayed, and then looked at his face, expecting to see disappointment and anger; instead, she saw compassion and pity in his eyes. Kiah frowned at him before looking across the tomb; extending her right hand, she made a beckoning motion for all of Legolas’ arrows embedded in corpses. Instead they flew to her and gathered themselves in his quiver. 

The elf raised his eyebrows briefly before leading her out. Low enough for just her to hear, he said, “You fought well, Strong One, very well.” 

 

Making their hasty trek down the hall of columns, the rest of the Fellowship shared the same thoughts: What kind of human was Kiah? How did she kill those orcs without touching them? Is she a wizard? If Gandalf knew of her magic, why didn’t he mention it before they left Rivendell? Why did she have to wait until now? What will happen next? 

Occasionally they heard the sound of rustling above and around them, a sound which, when they paused briefly, grew louder. Gandalf called another lighting spell, illuminating the sea of Orcs less than ten feet away. Suddenly, the menacing horde looked away from the Fellowship, some sniffing loudly and others straining to listen. All felt more than heard the slow gate of a being more ominous and sinister than any encountered thus far. The Orcs screamed and panicked into a retreat, leaving the Fellowship to ponder what exactly was next. The weight of burning, sulfurous fumes drifted towards them, and down one long hall, they saw a fiery glimpse of the source. 

Gandalf and Legolas secretly dreaded their next foe. “In their haste and greed, the Dwarves dug too deep, and unearthed a being that has long lay dormant until now, I fear,” said the wizard. All it took was a roar and the appearance of a massive foot made of fire and lava stomping down on the opposite end of their hall, to confirm his suspicion. 

“A Balrog! Run!” commanded Gandalf, the others following as fast as their legs could carry them to the bridge. Kiah remained rooted and looked above, wondering if she could stop it by bringing the hall down over its head despite the pounding of her heart. She didn’t wonder long, for Legolas grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, moving with amazing speed. 

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down! I can take him out, Legolas! Put me down,” she screamed. When he did nothing but ignored her, she used her power to pull herself from his grasp, only to have her hand snatched in his and be practically dragged away from the advancing monster. 

“Did you not say in the tomb that you will not die in this fucking place?” he repeated angrily, stunning her by the use of the crude word. “You cannot hope to succeed in battle against a creature like that.” 

“You don’t know a damn thing about what I can or cannot do, elf-boy,” she threw back, extracting her hand from his to run alongside him. Just then she felt a surge of heat towards her right, accompanied by a flash of red and yellow. Daring a glance, she looked behind her and saw that the Balrog had formed a whip from its body, and was rearing back to lash out again. Quickly she formed another shield, this time surrounding all of the Fellowship; the beast brought its whip down and roared when it bounced back, its prey safe from the blow. 

Kiah gasped at the attack and the way her shield rippled around the Company; steeling her mind, she reinforced it, which was a wise decision, for no sooner did they reach the top of the bridge than a shower of arrows poured down on them. “Oh this shit just keeps getting better!” she shouted. 

Legolas pushed her before him as he returned shots at the Orcs, his aim deadly and precise. Suddenly, Gandalf stopped, and said in a resigned voice, “This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly!” 

The ground-shaking steps of the Balrog began to loosen the foundation of the bridge while the Fellowship moved across. When they were at the halfway mark, the beast finally caught up with them. Kiah dropped the TK dome around them but still kept the arrows at bay with another. They all watched and called out to Gandalf, who stood his ground against the Balrog. 

“You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass!” he commanded. 

The Balrog roared his defiance at the wizard, and stood to his full height, his fiery and smoky wings spread wide. He lifted his whip and prepared to lash out at Gandalf. 

The wizard yelled, “You…cannot…pass!” lifting his staff and jamming it into the bridge. A bright, blinding light flashed and spread from the point of contact, slicing through the section on which the monster stood. The rock gave way, and the Balrog screamed as it fell. Gandalf turned to face the Company, a small grin of relief forming on his lips; that same grin transformed into a grimace of pain when a long burning streak wrapped itself around his ankle and yanked him down. 

Frodo began to run to save his old friend but was held back by Sam. Kiah temporarily broke her concentration on the shield and was about to use her power to catch Gandalf and pull him to safety. Before she could even blink, Legolas had pulled her back against him right before an arrow pierced her skull. 

“Let me go! I can save him!” she shouted while struggling in the elf’s arms. 

At the same time, the wizard managed to pull himself up, looking over the ledge and saying, “Fly, you fools!” He suddenly lets go, falling into the Shadow with the Balrog. 

“Nooo!” cried out both the Ringbearer and the telekinetic. Another shower of arrows came from their right; in her rage, Kiah let loose a near primal scream. While still in Legolas’ grasp, she stretched both hands out, palms forward, fingers splayed. As she curled them into fists, the section that housed the Orcs began to crumble. When she suddenly dropped her fists down, all watched as that part of Moria tumbled into the Shadow as well. 

Assuming the leadership, Aragorn urged them all to continuing moving over the bridge and out of Moria, leaving behind their fallen friend. The elf, whose entire body till hummed from the contact and display of Kiah’s power, was prepared to take her hand or carry her out of there, but she pushed him away. Her eyes were still green, but their fieriness had given way to cold anger. Legolas didn’t have to hear her say it, for he read the message loud and clear in her gaze: ‘I could’ve saved him, if it weren’t for you.’