The Shadow Walker

46. The Long Dark

Since Legolas couldn't walk, he sent me with the Foragar to look for something—anything—he could use as a crutch. Not only was the Foragar a source of light, he explained, but since it pointed toward the deepest desire of my heart, it would lead me directly to what I wanted.

Theoretically.

I was able to focus my frustration, my anxiety, and my longing into a specific desire; that wasn't too difficult. Problem was, every time I got about twenty feet away from Legolas, the wretched pin would swing back to point at everybody-guess-who.

Obviously, I was worried about him. I left my knife with Legolas, against his wishes, but he couldn't move. And we certainly weren't Moria's quietest inhabitants.

Finally, I buckled down and just walked in the direction the compass initially pointed toward, and ignored it when the pin predictably reversed. With every step I grew more worried. Even if Legolas were attacked, he wouldn't call for me. He wouldn't breathe a sound. Because that would attract hoards of goblins. But, if I stayed with him, we would never escape. So I kept walking.

At length, I came to a wall and turned to follow it. Keeping the Foragar's faint light pointed at my feet, I watched for anything other than gravel and rocks, until finally I found a doorway in the wall. If I was to find anything, I'd have to go in—but I hesitated. If it was possible, it was even darker inside the narrow corridor.

I slowly entered, keeping the Forgar shining at my feet and ready to douse its light in a moment's notice. The gravel thinned, making the footing loose and hazardous.

Something small on the floor caught my eye. At first I thought it was a piece of gravel. Then I realized—it was a bone. A tiny bone—roughly the size of my thumb to the first joint. Then I found the rest of the hand.

Then the arm.

And the body.

Separate.

The Dwarf's remains were scattered out over a dozen or so feet. His armor had been rent and tossed aside, as had his weapon.

The weapon!

I picked my way through the bones to the long-handled axe lying on the floor, then picked it up. Having found what I was looking for, I skedaddled back to Legolas. I was beyond grateful to leave that corridor behind.

As I approached, I heard Legolas grunt. Then a goblin's squeal.

I broke into a run.

Three goblins were jumping on Legolas. He swung my knife with deadly speed and accuracy. By the time I had reached him, he'd already killed all three.

"Legolas!" I whispered, moving around one of the bodies and kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Well enough," he replied, grimacing. As he slid my knife under his belt, I caught a glimpse of blood on his left sleeve.

I caught his hand and held it under the Foragar's light. His sleeve had been torn, and there were distinct, bleeding teeth marks in his wrist.

"We should bandage this," I murmured.

"No," Legolas replied immediately. "We should leave Moria. Help me up."

I handed him the axe, then offered my hand to help pull him up. Slowly, and grinding his teeth audibly, Legolas stood. His face was a mask of tightly-controlled pain and sheer determination.

A long moment passed, then finally Legolas whispered, "Which way?"

"I...I don't know." Tears welled up in my eyes. Mordor, why did I have to be so royally useless?