The Famous Five and the Mystery of Moria
Chapter Five
Author: Kinkyhobbit and Kevswitchau
6/02
Genre: AU, Humour, LOTR/Famous Five crossover
Rating: M
Warning: Contains snow.
Disclaimer: We take no responsibility for the characters,
but full responsibility for their circumstances.
Summary: The journey from Rivendell
to Moria.
The Fellowship had set
out immediately after breakfast, establishing a solid but reasonable pace that
even the hobbits had no trouble keeping.
They had been walking
for several hours when a large, long haired tricoloured dog appeared from
nowhere, jumping at Boromir and barking. He frowned and smiled bending down to
ruffle her fur.
“Where did you come
from?” he asked softly.
“Woof!” said the dog.
“Does this mean those
children are following us?” asked Frodo with a frown.
“Oh I hope so,” said
Merry, nudging Pippin.
“No,” Aragorn shook
his head. “That’s not Timmy.”
“Who do you belong
to?” grinned Boromir, letting her lick his face. “Hmm?”
“Woof!” said the dog
again, several times.
Gandalf frowned.
“Hmm…something about a boy down a well.”
Boromir blinked at him.
“Pardon?”
“You can understand
animals too?” asked Pippin.
“Oh of course,” nodded
Gandalf nonchalantly.
The dog barked again,
louder and more insistently.
“Yes, definitely a boy down a well,” said Aragorn, nodding at Gandalf.
“Well, shouldn’t we do
something?” asked Frodo.
“Yes, indeed we
should,” replied Gandalf. He bent down and whispered in the dog’s ear, and she
took off back towards Rivendell.
“What did you say?”
asked Legolas.
“Simply that we had to
destroy the One Ring and had no time to help some child out of his own
foolishness. I told her to see Elrond.”
Aragorn smiled and
began walking again, and the others followed.
“Besides,” muttered
Gandalf. “There’s nothing more irritating than being followed by an insistent
dog.”
“Do you think they’ll
mind us following them?” asked Anne. “I don’t know if we should, perhaps Elrond
was right after all.”
“Oh
don’t be such a girl,” scolded Dick.
“Well we know you’ll be
fine,” grinned George. “Merry and Pippin will be quite pleased to have their
Dick back. But I think Anne has a point.”
“I wouldn’t worry too
much,” said Julian. “As long as we stay back out of the way until we’re just
too far from Rivendell for them to do anything about
us. They can’t very well pack us off back there. We wouldn’t go anyway, and I
really think we can be of some help.”
“Do you think so, Ju?” asked Anne. “That ranger seems terribly handy,
especially with that enormous sword of his!”
“His name’s Aragorn,
Anne,” scolded Julian. “And he has to be handy with his sword because it’s his
job.”
“It’s a very nice
sword,” commented George.
“Well Julian did spend
an awful lot of time polishing it,” said Dick.
“Well,” said Anne. “If
he’s heir to the throne of Gondor then he needs to
look his best.”
They walked in silence
for some time. Eventually Anne said what they were all feeling, even Timmy.
“Do you think we’ve
lost them, Ju?”
Julian stopped and
sighed. “We can only keep going in the direction they were headed. We’ll catch
up eventually.”
But the children did
not catch up with them that day. As the sun set they were forced to make camp,
Anne fussing as she swept their campsite.
“If we get utterly
lost, Aunt Fanny will be ever so cross!”
“If we get utterly
lost, Aunt Fanny won’t be able to find us,” replied George. “And so we can’t
get in any trouble.”
“That’s a good point,”
said Dick.
“Oh shut up, Dick!”
Anne hit him with her feather duster.
As they ate a hearty supper
of ham and turkey sandwiches, bags of lettuce and lashings of fresh Rivendell Spring Water™, a large tri-coloured dog scampered
through the campsite. Timmy set off in pursuit.
“TIMMY!” yelled
George, leaping to her feet. “TIMMY! Get back here at once!”
He disappeared into
the trees, ignoring her.
“Don’t worry, George,”
said Julian matter-of-factly. “We’ll get another.”
The following morning,
while Sam made sure Mr Frodo got plenty of sausage for breakfast, Merry and
Pippin flirted outrageously with Boromir. Aragorn, as usual, watched.
“He’s teaching them
some ‘swordplay’,” said Gimli with a wicked grin. “I’ve not heard it called
that before.”
Legolas glanced
quickly at him and said nothing. “Dopey dwarf,” he muttered.
“What was that?!”
demanded Gimli.
Legolas flashed him a
mirthless smile. “Nothing. Just
thinking out loud.”
Gimli growled at him
and wandered off to talk to Gandalf.
“Wizard!” he bellowed.
“If you were to ask my opinion, which you have not, I’d say we were taking the
long way round.”
“We are taking the
safest route, Master Gimli,” replied Gandalf evenly, puffing on his pipe. “And
certainly the most scenic, with lots of lovely mountains and-”
“We should go through
the mines of Moria! My cousin Balin
would give us a royal welcome!”
“No Gimli, I would not
go through the mines unless I had to.”
“Why
not?”
Gandalf muttered and
turned away. “It’s just a very bad idea, that’s all.”
Gimli huffed at him
and sat grumpily on a rock, watching Merry and Pippin. Aragorn was offering suggestions
from a rock nearby.
“Keep your arm up!
That’s right. Try it faster, Boromir!”
“I don’t want to go
too fast yet. I’ll just take it slow for now.”
“We can take it!”
shouted Merry.
“I don’t mind taking
it slow,” said Pippin. “But if you want to go faster I can handle that too!”
“We’ll see about
that…”
Boromir got careless
and accidently struck Pippin’s hand. Pippin yelped
and kicked Boromir in the shin, and along with Merry tackled him to the ground.
Gimli growled and
raised his eyebrows. “Bit early in the day for that, isn’t it? At least wait
until nightfall!”
“Hey, what’s that?”
called Sam, squinting into the sun.
“That’s just a whiff
of cloud,” said Gimli, cocking his head. “It’s sort of…tankard shaped.”
“Everything’s tankard
shaped to your lot,” scowled Legolas.
Gimli glared at him.
“You should watch your tongue! A dwarf’s reputation is well-deserved!”
Legolas ignored him,
peering at the cloud intently, his eyes widening. He turned and shouted something
completely unintelligible to the rest of the group. They all stopped what they
were doing and stared at him.
“What did you say?”
asked Frodo.
Legolas stared at each
of their expectant, blank faces. He repeated his warning and gestured rather vigorously
at the oncoming cloud.
Aragorn and Gandalf
simply looked at each other, and shook their heads.
It was Pippin who
realised first. “Are…are we in some kind of danger?” he asked.
Legolas pointed at him
and nodded, then back at the cloud. “Spies!” he finally shouted, exasperated. “Sauron’s spies! Coming this way! Now!”
“Oh!” said Gandalf.
“We should be getting under cover, then.”
“What?” asked Merry.
“NOW!” Gandalf bellowed, and the hobbits scampered
under rocks and behind bushes, with everyone else diving for cover around them.
And just in time. No
sooner were they concealed than a swarm of black
creatures, somewhere between a bat and a bird, swept over them and off into the
distance.
When the creatures
were gone and they all emerged from their hiding places, no one spoke. They
simply looked at each other and then at Gandalf as he spoke.
“There is no other
option,” he said gravely. “We must take the
“The pass of what?”
asked Merry, eyes wide.
“The
“Why is it called the
There was muffled laughter
from Boromir and a smile from both Legolas and Aragorn. Gandalf smiled too,
ruffling Merry’s hair.
“No no, dear boy, it’s just a name.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. Means nothing. Now come along, it’s time we got moving
again.”
They packed the
equipment quickly, the hobbits as usual dawdling to finish off the remaining
food. They were just about to begin catching up with the rest of the Fellowship
when Pippin stopped to pick up a book that had fallen beside a rock.
“Hey look!” he said.
Merry was beside him
instantly. “What is it?”
“It’s a book, stupid,”
said Pippin, sneering at him.
Merry pulled a face at
him. “I know, I mean what’s it called?”
“It’s called: Hercules and Samson Go To
Athens For The Mardi Gras Parade.”
Sam wandered over,
frowning. “What’s it about?”
Pippin began flicking
through it.
“Well,” said Merry.
“It’s just pict- oh.”
“Oh,” said Sam.
“Oooh,”
said Pippin.
Before Frodo managed
to peek something resembling an angry elf launched itself at them, snatching
the book from Pippin’s grasp. It was indeed an elf, Legolas to be exact.
“I thought you’d
already gone,” chirped Pippin matter-of-factly.
“I wasn’t far,”
snapped Legolas, crouching down to hurriedly stuff the book into his pack.
“Is that yours?” asked
Sam.
“No, it’s…it’s Celeborn’s.”
“Who?”
the hobbits chorused.
Legolas rolled his
eyes – he hated it when they did that. “Celeborn.
He’s an elf who lives in Lothlorien. Seeing as we’re…probably going to pass
that way, Elrond asked me to return it. He’d borrowed it, you see.”
Merry raised his
eyebrows and looked knowingly at the others. “Ohhhh, riiiiight…”
“Better be careful
then, Sir,” said Sam, nodding sagely. “Big book like that.
Better not leave it lying around in case you lose it.”
“I didn’t leave it
lying around,” said Legolas defensively. “It…fell out of my bag.”
“How?” asked Merry,
peering at him closely.
Legolas looked
flustered. “I was packing!”
“Of course you were,
Sir,” grinned Sam.
Legolas stood and
glared at them. “Come on!”
The children also woke
early and ate quickly, determined to get moving and catch up with the
Fellowship as soon as possible.
“I have a good feeling
about today,” said George determinedly. “I think we’ll catch up with them by
lunchtime!”
“You certainly are an
optimist,” replied Julian. “But I agree with you heartily, George. We covered a
lot of ground yesterday, and they didn’t get too much of a head start.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t
stop for lunch, but keep going,” suggested Anne.
“No!” said Dick, a
look of panic in his eyes. “I mean…that would be bad.”
“Yes, Dick’s right,
Anne,” said Julian. “We’ll need to keep our strength up. We don’t know what’s
ahead.”
By mid-morning they
noticed there was much more snow about than they had encountered before. Before
them stretched beautiful snow-covered mountains that shone in the bright
morning sun.
“Eew,”
said George, wrinkling her nose. “I hope we don’t have to climb those!”
“Yes,” said Anne,
staring. “They look terribly…tall.”
George glanced at her,
but said nothing.
“And look at those
storm clouds!” said Dick, pointing. They’re directly over that mountain!”
“Gosh, you’re right,
Dick!” said Julian.
As they watched, an
enormous bolt of lightning struck the top of the mountain, the noise reaching them seconds later. Massive chunks of rock and snow broke
away from the top and cascaded down the side.
“I say, I’d hate to be
caught under that!”
“Well lucky for us
we’re not up there,” mused Anne. “We’d all be crushed to death!”
“Yes, very dangerous,”
nodded Julian. “I think we should stay away from mountains. Hopefully the
Fellowship haven’t gone that way.”
A while later they
stopped for lunch, sitting on rocks surrounded by snow, feasting on more
sandwiches and jam tarts which Anne found lurking in the bottom of her bag.
“Oh, I do like a nice
tart,” grinned George, licking jam from her fingers.
“So do I!” agreed
Dick.
“Since when?” frowned
Julian.
Before Dick could
answer they heard a shout. They all turned to see the Fellowship staggering
down the snow-covered hillside towards them…except for Merry and Pippin, who
had stolen Boromir’s shield and were using it as a toboggan.
“What on earth…?” Anne
stared.
“Yes, they must have
been forced to turn back by the avalanche,” frowned Julian.
As Merry and Pippin
reached the bottom Boromir rolled to a stop nearby. He stood and brushed snow
from his clothes as Merry and Pippin threw snowballs at him.
The rest of the
Fellowship were not far behind, and Aragorn walked
straight towards the children.
“What’s going on?”
asked Dick.
“Saruman
caused an avalanche to stop us getting through. We are going through the mines
of Moria instead.” He scowled at them. “More importantly, what are you doing
here after Elrond ordered you not to follow us?”
Dick and George grinned
sheepishly, Anne blushed and Julian did his best to look authoritative. “Well,”
he said, nodding. “We decided you might still need our help.”
Aragorn stifled a
smile. “I see. Well I suppose you’re too far from Rivendell
for us to send you back, aren’t you.”
“Yes, it’s probably
best if we continue with you,” replied Julian, completely missing Aragorn’s
sarcasm.
“So where are we
going?” asked Dick.
“The Mines of Moria,”
replied Aragorn.
“The Mines of Moria!”
said George with a smile. “That sounds exciting!”
“Yes, caves I’ll bet!”
grinned Dick. “I wonder if there’s any treasure?”
“Oh, plenty of
treasure,” smiled Aragorn. “And plenty of dwarves. Master Gimli’s
cousin lives there.”
Before Dick could
speak he was pounced on by Merry and Pippin. While
greetings were exchanged between the others, Julian
turned to Aragorn and puffed out his chest.
“So,” he said
seriously. “These mines.”
“Yes.”
“What sort of mines
are they?”
“Dwarf mines.”
Julian gaped. “They
mine dwarves?”
“No no,” Aragorn smiled. “They are run by dwarves. They mine
precious metals, precious stones. They are also master craftsmen.”
Gandalf walked up to
them, nodding politely at Julian before speaking to Aragorn. Behind him a snow ball war waged between hobbits and…pretty much
everyone else.
“Aragorn. There are only a few hours of light left, but
I think we should make the most of them.”
Aragorn nodded and,
after calling a truce in the snowball fight, advised them they should keep
moving. This they did for a few hours, before stopping to set up camp for the
night. The children pitched their tents together and a short distance from the
rest of the Fellowship.
Anne helped Sam unpack
food while some of the others set off to search for firewood. They had been
gone for nearly fifteen minutes when Legolas suddenly leapt onto a nearby rock,
scowling and listening intently.
“There’s a foul voice
on the air!” he exclaimed.
Boromir frowned and tilted his head as he listened. “You’re right!”
Legolas looked quickly
left and right, concentrating. Then his frown lifted, replaced by a slightly
embarrassed smile. “Er, actually...it’s Gimli.”
“Gimli?”
The dwarf appeared carrying firewood and singing at the top of his lungs. “...a
happy dwarf is a soaring soul, as free as a mountain bir-ird!...”
Boromir stifled a
laugh, and glanced at Legolas. “He’s happy we’re going to Moria.”
Legolas nodded. “Well,
anything that improves his mood is a good thing. He was so grumpy on the way up
that mountain I was tempted to toss him down it.”
“Well perhaps Moria
will cheer us all up.”
With the arrival of
Gimli and the others an impressive fire was soon built,
with Sam and Anne sharing the cooking duties and exchanging recipe ideas. Merry
and Pippin were sparring again with Boromir while Dick watched.
“Can I have a go?” he
asked.
“No,” said Boromir
sternly, giving him a knowing look.
“Please?”
“No.”
“Can I hold the Horn
of Gondor then?”
“No…allright, yes, but don’t blow it.”
Boromir handed his
horn to Dick who sat on a rock and admired it. He couldn’t resist temptation,
though, and had just raised it to his lips to blow it when Legolas spotted him.
“DICK!”
Boromir whirled
around. “Where?”
Merry and Pippin saw
their chance. They both charged him again, knocking him to the ground and
falling on top of him. He hugged them both and laughed.
“Oh, isn’t it nice
that they’re such good friends,” said Anne wistfully.
Frodo, meanwhile, was
looking even more morose and depressed and kept glancing nervously at Boromir.
He jumped when Gandalf came up behind him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Doing allright, Frodo?”
“Yes, I suppose,” he
answered softly. “Why don’t you want to go through the mines, Gandalf? Did
something bad happen there?”
Gandalf puffed on his
pipe and glanced at him, then smiled. “Not what you think, Frodo. I like a good
party as much as anybody, but the dwarves…have their own unique ways of
entertaining themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
Gandalf puffed
thoughtfully for a moment, opened his mouth to speak, paused and simply shook
his head. “You’ll see,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ll see what I
mean.”
Before Frodo could
question him further, Sam called out that the food was ready. As they all sat
down to eat conversation inevitably turned to the day’s events, and in
particular the Fellowship’s failed attempt at getting through the
“Why else would it be called that?” he
persisted. “There’s no other reason! We weren’t supposed to get through!”
“Yes Meriadoc, perhaps you’re right,” said Gandalf, placating
him. “But there’s no point worrying about it now. We are going through the
mines.”
“So what are these
mines like, Gimli?” asked George. “You’ve been there.”
“Oh yes!” said Anne,
wiping the aftermath of Sam’s sausage from the corner of her mouth. “Do tell!”
Gimli smiled broadly,
waving his knife as he chomped on his food. “Incredible!” he managed finally.
“Huge caverns with ceilings as high as…well, they’re enormous! Beautiful halls
of carvings and statues and the finest ironmongery you’ll ever see!”
“Never mind that!”
said Pippin with a grin. “What about the beer?”
“Oh, the beer!”
replied Gimli, nodding. “The beer is magnificent! Rich and
dark, a steak in every mug!”
“I can’t wait!” said
Pippin excitedly, bouncing on the spot. “Does it come in pints?”
Gimli nodded, his mouth full of food again.
“Come in pints, eh?”
said Merry wickedly. He leant close and whispered something to Pippin whose
eyes widened as he blushed. He looked at Merry, and the two of them suddenly
leapt to their feet and took off into the bushes.
“Where are they
going?” asked Dick with a frown.
Boromir hurriedly put
down his plate and stood, waving for Dick to stay seated. “It’s
allright, I’ll keep an eye on them!” he said as he
ran into the bushes after them.
“Ahem.” Gandalf raised
his eyebrows.
“Good job, Boromir,”
said Aragorn with a straight face.
“Yes, isn’t it?”
mumbled Gandalf. Only Aragorn heard him, and smiled.
“Can I polish your
sword?” asked Julian longingly.
Aragorn looked at him.
“…no.”
While Sam cleared the
plates, Anne, who had been eyeing Gimli’s beard for
some time, walked over and sat beside him. “It must take a lot of effort to
keep it so full and bristly,” she cooed, stroking his beard.
Gimli faltered.
“Oh…well, yes…quite a lot.”
“And I bet no-one
understands what a super difficult effort it is.”
“No…”
“They simply don’t appreciate
it,” she said matter-of-factly, still stroking his beard.
Gimli could only nod.
Anne sighed. “They
just don’t understand how important it is for a dwarf’s beard to be properly
groomed and plaited.”
“N-no,” Gimli nodded.
Anne fingered Gimli’s plaits, and Gimli blinked as he watched her hands.
“But it still needs some basic maintenance, you know,” she said. “It does need a trim now and then, to take
care of those split ends.”
“Well…”
“We must have you
looking your best.”
“Hmm, yes, well of
course…but not like those elves!” he growled. “So…prissy!”
“Ooh no, of course
not!” Anne scowled right back at him. “You must look suitably fierce.”
“Indeed!”
“Ferocious!”
“Yes!”
She began combing his
beard. “But at the same time, I think it’s fitting for a dwarf of the
Fellowship to stand out.”
He frowned. “What do
you mean?”
“Well, it’s all very
well for any old dwarf to have a long beard and hair and the odd plait,” she
said, smiling winningly. “But you’re not
any old dwarf.”
A broad grin spread
across his face.
“I think you need your
own look.”
“Do I?” he asked,
surprised.
“Oh yes,” she nodded
seriously. “And I know just what to
do…”
End Chapter Five.
Kinkyhobbit/Kevswitchau 2002
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