The Forgotten Ring

Disclaimer: All familiar characters of this story belong to the awesome world and works of JRR Tolkien, who is an unparalleled genius of this genre. All unfamiliar and original characters, animals and places are of my own invention. I do not derive any monies from this work and created this story solely out of the love and respect that I hold for all of the works related to this canon.

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The Forgotten Ring
by Sienna Dawn


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Chapter 23 - Remembering

Eridani had counted nine days. Nine days since she and Ormuil had been first captured and brought to the dark caverns of the Pits of Durzad'dum. She looked down at the revolting gruel she was fed 4 times a day and forced herself to swallow some. Although it was foul, she knew she needed her strength for when she escaped.

Her leg was mended and her head no longer throbbed, no thanks to the Orchs. As was the way of her people, small wounds healed quickly.

She stared at the corner where the strange little dwarf had materialized. He had urged her to remember...he had said, "Remember the stories you heard as a child." But which stories? She had been told so many.

She knew that the man that as a child she called Uncle was the Istari Wizard, Belteled. She did remember some of the stories he told her, but none were remarkable. Most often his stories were of the War of the Ring, Sauron, Saruman, and the elves, men and other races of Middle Earth. These stories had stirred her spirit with a deep love of history, one she carried to this day. That she suspected there were two lost Rings of Power was a moot point as Belteled had never once mentioned that. The first she had even heard of this possibility was when Haldir had brought it to her attention. Now, after the visit of the strange dwarf she was convinced that the rings existed and that they must not fall into the wrong hands. Like the Yrch, she thought dryly.

She used her fingers to scoop up some gruel and shoved it into her mouth. Her stomach threatened to empty itself, but she forced herself to swallow.

Outside her cell, the non-stop commotion above her, the constant hammering on the cave walls, the heat of the fires, had all become background noise and she had grown used to it. Her jailer, a large, stinking Orch brought her food and water four times a day. He entered the cell swiftly without looking at her. She knew her treatment was unusual for Orch. She had expected to be starved, tortured and raped. And yet, it seemed as if all the Orchs had orders to treat her with deference. She wondered why.

Just then a terrible thought assailed hwas was she being primped for breeding purposes? The extra food, water and "gentle" treatment indicated she was of some value to someone. The thought of coupling with an Orch filled her spirit with desperation.

She would not breed a monster to destroy her people. Not of her body. That they would never have.

She ate some more of the foul gruel and she thought back to Ormuil and Haldir. Although she had tried to reach them many times she had always been intercepted by the dark cloud she had seen the first time. She still had no idea what it was, but she was beginning to have suspicions.

Looking at the mossy cell walls, she wondered again what the dwarf wanted her to remember. She placed the bowl on the ground and laid back on the stone cot. In moments she was asleep.

She opened her eyes and found herself inside a different cell. This one had a window, and the sun's light filtered in. She ran to its light and allowed it to warm her body. First her face, and then turning, her back. The chill in her bones began to pass. Opening her eyes she looked around her. It was then she realized this was the same cell she had been taken to...only that this cell was above ground. She frowned. Where was she?

Walking to the stone bench she reached down and touched the grass and hay. Fresh and sweet smelling. Looking behind her she saw the door was closed and she walked to it. Bolted.

She turned and surveyed the walls. What goi going on? Walking to one wall she reached out and touched it. It was warm, it was dry and it was not slimy. It felt as it it was newly cut stone. She ran her fingertips slightly over the stone masonry and then did the same to the other three walls. She was looking for something...but what?

Just then she heard voices approaching. She ran to the bench, laid down and pretended to be asleep.

Suddenly a loud noise jolted her awake. Her second meal was being served. The dirty Orch placed the bowl by the door and quickly exited.

Eridani swung her legs around toward the floor. Had she slept that long? She eyed the food with distaste and then sat back to reconsider the dream.

Remember the stories, the dwarf had told her.

Following a hunch, she jumped off the bench and walked to one of the walls, gently running her fingers over the surface. Slime, dirt, soot and goodness knows what else stuck to her fingers. She resisted the temptation to jerk away andan aan again....probing and pushing...probing and pushing. After a few moments, she felt a slab of stone give way. Her heart quickened and she stole a glance at the door. Turning her attention to the same section of wall, she pushed harder and then it happened. A grating sound and a small door swung to the side. It was small, made for a child....or a dwarf, she thought.

Quickly she dropped to the ground and carefully sniffed the air from inside the opening. It smelled clear. No Orch scents. Amazingly the air was almost sweet.

She crawled toward the small door and was pleased to see she fit, although she bruised her sides and hands trying to get herself to the other side. But once she did the door suddenly sprang back and snapped shut.

Crouching in the darkness, she waited a few moments and her elven eyes quickly adjusted. She could make out that this was yet another cell, but different from the one she'd been held in. This cell was full of dust and cobwebs, as if it had not been used for ages. Carefully, she stood walkwalked to the closed door. Peering past the iron bars she could see no activity outside, no movement. It seemed as if the Orchs did not use this section of their dungeons.

"Or maybe they do not even know it exists...." she thought in excitement.

Stepping out of the dungeon, she came to stand in a long hallway, dotted with doors. Very similar to the area she had being held in. She stepped gingerly foward in the gloom, wishing she had a sword or a knife. Walking slowly past several dungeon doors she peered inside each and found them deserted. It looked as if the Orch had not used this section. But maybe that was the reason behind all their furious digging.

She knew she had little time to lose and that soon her jailers would discover her disappearance and raise the alarm. She calculated she had at least three hours before she was discovered to be missing.

Picking up her pace, Eridani walked past the narrow corridor, trying to remember the design of the area, and hoped it matched the other side. A high vaulted door blocked her way and she pushed to open it, but it would not budge. Worry began to crease her smooth features. Had she come this far to be captured?

She studied the door. It was heavy, made of wood, decorated with runic lettering and the Two Trees of the Valar. She realized this was one of the ancient doors of the Old Middle Earth and which for some reason had been left intact during the reforming of the new Middle Earth. She studied the runic lettering, realizing she could not read it. She tried to remember....what was it Haldir told her about the Hidden Door of Moria? Ah yes, she remembered.

She stood back and said in a clear voice, "Mellon" She waited. Nothing happened. Eridani frowned. Wasn't that what the Door of Moria had said? "Speak friend and enter." She frowned and looked at the door again and placed her hand on it.

Just then she thought she heard scratching at the door, but from the other side. Frightened, she pulled her hand back. Then she heard more scratching? An animal?

"No...not an animal...a friend." came a voice from the other side of the door. Eridani recognized the voice. It was of the old dwarf who had come to her in her cell. She put her mouth close to the door.

"Can you open it?" she whispered.

"No...it opens from without...from your side only." came the dwarf's voice.

"But I cannot read this elvish writing. It is of the Old Middle Earth." her eyes flew to the letters again.

"Listen....it says, 'When the Moon sets the doors will open.'"

A riddle? Eridani was furious. Haldir was right about the dwarves.

Looking at the door she answered, "I have not the time for riddles. Either tell me how to open the door or leave me." She hissed her anger at the old man.

"Twist the latch toward the moon...then open the door shall be."

Eridani looked at the latch and reached for it. Suddenly she understood. All she had to do was turn the latch....her hand pushed at the metal latch....she had to turn the latch vertically so its knob was pointing at the tree above it...but the latch would not budge...she pushed and now using both hands, she tugged and pushed and slowly, ever so slowly, the latch began to turn. Hers acs ached from the exertion, her neck muscles knotted with the strain and she bit her lips until she tasted blood, and slowly it moved. Suddenly, she felt a strong pull on the latch and alarmed let go. Her eyes widened in amazement when she saw it move of its own accord, and stand vertically, pointing at one of the trees. Just as the dwarf had told her.

She knew she had not the strength for that final shove, and she thanked the Valar, or whoever it was, that had helped her.

Slowly, and without noise, the door swung open. The dwarf was nowhere in sight. She peered and received a shock at what her eyes beheld.....for there stood before Eridani's eyes one of the lost wonders of the Old Middle Earth. Now she knew where she was, now she remembered every story Belteled had told her.

Eridani had stumbled into the great and ancient dwarf city of the Dwarrowdelf, called Khazad-dum, and later Moria. She now realized why the Yrch called their stronghold Durzad'dum. It was most probably the best and closest they could come to recalling the true name of this ancient tunneled realm.

She walked beyond the door and looked about her. Tall, graceful spires travelled up and down as far as the eye could see. She looked at the massive columns that held the foundation of the city, so high did they rise that she could not see their end. It was quiet here. As quiet as a tomb.

Taking a few steps, she realized she had no idea which way to go. She knew that in the Old Middle Earth this realm had been built under the Misty Mountains. She knew this ranf mof mountains no longer existed. And a new question came to her: was the Dwarf city now resting under the earth itself, removed and safeguarded for a purpose? She remembered that the Orch troop who had captured her and Ormuil had opened a door under the earth itself, at the foot of a small range of hills.

At the thought of Ormuil, she frowned as another realization hit her: in the time of the Old Middle Earth, the Misty Mountains had once been close to both Imladris and Loth Lorien. Therefore, she was close to home! But this realization also deadened her heart for it meant the Yrch were under them and had been so the entire time Haldir had been looking for them above ground!

Now she realized why not one elven scout had found signs of Orch above ground. They had all been underneath them, planning, breeding and biding their time! Then a second idea occurred to her, a suspicion so foul, that her mind refused to accept it. But her vision had most likely shown her the truth. Haldir suspected that Saruman had made a ring out of the Arkenstone and then had poured his lifeforce into it. If this was so, and she was beginning to think it was, then was the dark mist she saw in her vision, that dark mist that seemed to direct the Yrch like poppets, none other than Saruman himself? Her own thoughts gave her chills.

She realized she had to get out of the ancient maze of halls and corridors and make her way to Alasse Imladris or Avonea. And she knew she had to move at speed. She thought for a moment. If she was indeed in the heart of Moria, then Avonea was much closer than Alasse Imladris, perhaps only a few leagues east. She had to find her bearings.

Not knowing if the way she chose was the right way, she placed all of her trust in the Holy Valar (whether they would or could intercede or not), silently thanked the ghost of the old dwarf, and sprinted off. In her heart she prayed she was in time.


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[To be continued...] Feedback is appreciated.