Fiction GotG Chapter 09

Title: Gamble Of The Gods

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either J.R.R. Tolkien’s "Lord of the Rings" universe, nor David and Leigh Edding’s "Belgariad".

Rating: PG

Genre: Crossover of LotR and The Belgariad

Type: WiP

Timeline: LotR- The beginning of the Fellowship (follows the movies mostly.)

The Belgariad- post books. Beldaran is a young woman now, about seventeen now.

Summary: In an effort to encourage the Fellowship, help is brought into the world in the form of a young woman whose world has already seen the end of its own war.

Chapter Nine

After much effort by the group to find the doorway to Moria, with the expected snide comments between Elf and Dwarf, the fellowship finally stood before the large stone. Gandalf brushed his hands over the stone. "Ithilden," he breathed, recalling what he knew of the place. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight." He turned to glance up at the night sky that had finally fallen. But, of course, with their luck, the sky was filled with black clouds. "Blasted clouds!" he growled. Beldaran chuckled.

"Here," she muttered. She lifted her hand a made a curious gesture, while whispering the word, "move." Gandalf watched as the clouds zipped away, revealing the full moon. He raised a simple eyebrow at the girl. Having that brief glimpse in her mind that he did, he knew that she was a power to be reckoned with. She shrugged her shoulder, as if to say that it was nothing. The moonlight did it’s magic and slowly, the glittering outline of the doors appeared over the stone’s face. Gandalf stepped back; finally feeling accomplished at something on this trip. He gestured to the words with his staff.

"It reads, ‘The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter’." There was a moment of silence.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry wondered aloud. Gandalf squared his shoulders, in the manner of all wizards who knew that to the mass, magic was more than just a spell, it was a show. And as always, Gandalf intended to deliver.

"It’s quite simple," he exhorted. "If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." He lifted his staff, pressing it against the symbol in the center of the door and spoke aloud the spell. But it didn’t work. Without betraying any emotion, he simply stepped back, lifted staff in the air and tried another. It still didn’t work.

Pippin glanced up at Legolas. "Nothing’s happening," he remarked conversationally. The Elf rolled his eyes. He suddenly felt old in a way elves did not understand when comparing himself to the immature hobbit. He glanced up to see Gandalf manfully shouldering the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He avoided the looks of the rest of the company.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men and Orcs!" he grumbled. Pippin watched the grouchy wizard. Never in his whole life had Gandalf failed to deliver, until this adventure. In his childlike manner, his mouth moved faster than his head could interfere.

"What are you going to do then?" he demanded, sure that Gandalf would know something else to try.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took!" he roared, wheeling around and glaring at the halfling. He saw Pippin shrink back at the anger in his voice. But Gandalf had been sorely pressed. To him, it seemed as if their accusing eyes were blaming him for ruining their entry to a place they definitely knew he didn’t want to be. As if he were doing this deliberately so they’d have to go somewhere else. So he just couldn’t stop the venom rolling off his tongue. "And if that does not shatter them and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words!" He regretted it almost immediately as Pip’s eyes widened and he saw Bel squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. Gandalf swore inwardly and turned back to the doors.

After a few more minutes, the rest of the fellowship realized that they might be there a good long while. Aragorn gently convinced Sam that it was time to let Bill the pony go. The others lounged or sat where they could. Beldaran took a seat next to Frodo, who was staring vacantly out at the water, watching small ripples form on the black surface.

"How are you doing Frodo?" she asked softly. He turned to her, his eyes missing the merry twinkle they were so known for.

"I am doing as well as can be expected," he replied diplomatically. The weight of the Ring on his mind was not something he could easily discuss. "But what about you? You’ve had just as bad a time as any on this journey. She smiled and waved her hand.

"I have a little something that helps me out a bit," she chuckled. Frodo looked at Legolas, who was watching them intently. Bel blushed and ducked her head. "Not that!" Frodo laughed as well. Beldaran shook her head, then reached into an inner pocket of her coat. Frodo watched with interest as she drew forth the strangest flower that he’d ever seen. She placed it in his hands. "For you."

Frodo looked dubiously at it then took a tentative sniff. The aroma the flower gave off was strong and purely sweet. He felt his spirits lift considerably. "How enchantingly odd," he grinned, sniffing again. "I’ve never seen this before." He waved Legolas over and the Elf happily obliged.

"Yes Frodo?"

"Look what Bel gave me," he chattered excitedly. "Have you ever seen the like?" Legolas took the small, lopsided white flower from him. He looked it over carefully, then took a sniff. His reaction was immensely similar to Frodo’s. Good cheer seemed to abound.

"Never," he admitted, then turned to her. "What kind is this? It’s wonderful."

"It’s called Adara’s rose," she informed them.

"Ah, it doesn’t look like any rose I’ve seen," Legolas teased. Bel grinned back.

"My mother named it after my father’s cousin," Bel told them. "Adara was heartbroken when she thought that the man she loved didn’t return her love. This flower brought her peace of mind. But she left it, forgotten on a hillside. When she and my mother returned, the seeds had spread and the entire hill was covered with them."

"That’s wonderful," Frodo sighed. Like any Hobbit, he liked a good tale.

"And did Adara ever win her love?" Legolas asked, kneeling before Bel. She nodded happily.

"Adara and Hettar have been married almost as long as my parents," she declared. Legolas smiled at the joy on her face as she reminisced about her family. With regret, he gave the flower back to Frodo, who tucked it into his coat, near his heart.

"It is good to know that while it might not run straight, love runs true," Legolas whispered gently. Bel nodded, then patted her coat, searching.

"Oh, that’s the only one I had," she grimaced. "Hang on, I’ll get another for you to have." The Elf and Hobbit watched as she scooped a dead twig and a fallen leaf off the ground. Legolas wondered if perhaps the cold of Caradhras had caused her sanity to slip. He and Frodo watched helplessly as she wrapped the leaf around the twig then exchanged worried glances. Bel just centered her focus on the twig and released her will. Before them, the leaf and twig were slowly transformed into another flower. With a cocky grin, she handed it to the dumbfounded Elf.

"My lady," he gasped, as he brought the flower to his nose and sniffed. It didn’t smell quite like Frodo’s. It smelled like her. Tangy, sweet and slightly exotic. "I will treasure this gift all the days of my immortal life." Beldaran leaned forward and kissed his forehead quickly. He was so stunned still that he just knelt there. She turned to Frodo.

"Now that is what I call gratitude," she sighed. Legolas sniffed once more at the flower then slipped it in his tunic, exactly as Frodo had done, over his heart.

"You are a very good friend, Bel," Frodo complimented her, his sincerity evident. She gave him a hug around his shoulders. The clatter of Gandalf’s staff next to them startled the trio.

"Oh, it’s useless!" he exclaimed, taking up the rest of the rock for a seat. Frodo’s eyes narrowed as he looked from the doors to Bel. He stood up and moved towards the door.

"It’s a riddle," he stated softly. He turned back to Gandalf. "Speak ‘friend’ and enter. What’s the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon," Gandalf replied tiredly. Instantly, the rock split open and the doorway appeared. With relief, the fellowship gathered up their equipment and made their way into the mine, warriors first.

"Soon, Master Elf," Gimli bragged happily to Legolas beside him, "you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone…" his boast trailed off as he moved farther from the Hobbits. They stood around Beldaran just inside the doorway, apprehensively waiting for the others to establish that it was okay to enter. Gandalf’s dislike of the place had rubbed off on them. There was more whispered conversation they didn’t catch. But Gimli running from spot to spot and yelling ‘no!’ was a clear indication that not everything was well. Legolas pulled an arrow from a decayed corpse and the hobbits and Bel noticed the bones littered about the floor. There was a hiss as Aragorn and Boromir drew their swords.

"We make for the gap of Rohan. We should never have come here," Boromir sneered. "Now get out of here. Get out!"

The Hobbits began backing up, stumbling a little over the bones. Suddenly, Frodo went down. The other Hobbits turned to help him up, only to be shocked as he was dragged from them

"Strider!" Sam yelled, as he hacked at the long black arm-like thing that had his Master.

"Aragorn!" Frodo called frantically as the thing tightened around his leg a moment before it retreated from the sting of the Hobbit’s swords. But with unerring accuracy, more tentacles flew out of the water, knocking the Hobbits back. Bel threw herself on the Hobbit as two tentacles wrapped around them. They flew up into the air, only to be separated as the thing tried to better its grip on it’s next meal.

"Strider!" Sam yelped again. But the others were finally there, slashing and hacking at the tentacles. Legolas shot arrow after arrow at the thing. His heart almost stopped when he saw Bel and Frodo lifted away, but instinct took over. As Frodo screamed, Bel took stock of the situation. With all the flailing, she knew they could cut many tentacles, before catching the correct one. So her instinct took over. She knew she’d have trouble reaching her sword on her back, even though it would do the most damage. So, she flicked her free wrist, the sheathed dagger falling easily into her waiting hand. She silently blessed her ‘Uncle Silk’ and ‘Aunt Velvet’ for sending such a Drasnian birthday gift her previous year. She slashed at the tentacle as it doubled around, causing the thing to drop her. It was almost beyond the limits of the thrall put on it by the ancient evil that had created it. It was hungry, but the pain was becoming too much.

Beldaran managed to draw in one breath before she hit the water. She kicked upwards furiously, not wanting to be caught underwater by the thing. She surfaced next to Aragorn, who’d just sliced the tentacle holding Frodo. The Hobbit dropped into Boromir’s waiting arms and the four of them raced out of the shallow water.

"Legolas!" the Gondorian called. The Elf obligingly covered their retreat, shooting an arrow straight into the creature’s eye.

"Into the cave!" Aragorn yelled, pulling Bel along. The heaving, writhing mass of the lake creature used its remaining tentacles to pull itself up out of the water and towards its prey. "Run!" The group ran for safety as the doorway of Moria began to crumble about the creature, effectively sealing them in.

There was a moment of quiet, and Gandalf spoke seriously. "We now have but one choice." He lit up the crystal in his staff, illuminating the area around them. Legolas looked down at Bel beside him, where she’d stopped. She was soaking wet, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled him to her, relieved. She leaned into him, grateful for the warmth and the gentle contact. Gandalf sighed. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things here than Orcs in the deep places of the world." He moved forward, never noticing that Bel was discreetly using her talent to wring the moisture from her clothes and hair. When a suddenly dry hand slipped into his, Legolas glanced down and smiled at the now dry woman. Her ingenuity and power never failed to amaze him. Someone stumbled on a rock. "Quietly now," Gandalf hissed softly. It’s a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence might go unnoticed."

Chapter Ten