“The river of this valley is under his power.”
Gandalf, ‘Many Meetings’, The Fellowship of the Ring
There was never a time when Gandalf could not determine, if he chose, the location and well-being of the other bearers of the Three; thus, the ground had barely ceased to shake before he was striding at great speed from the East Porch, where he had been smoking and thinking, towards Elrond’s private study. He entered without knocking, then moved quickly through the room and out to the balcony. He found Elrond standing still as a statue, his hands gripping the railing, eyes unfocused. The only motion was that of the Elf-lord’s robe, fluttering slightly in the breeze. The tension emanating from Elrond was palpable, and Vilya, which the wizard usually sensed as only a steady, quiet pulse, was more active than he had ever felt it.
“Speak, my friend,” Gandalf said quietly. “The valley has been rocked by tremors both physical and magical. What can you tell me?”
Elrond stirred slightly. “Nazgûl,” he murmured, “at least one, beyond the eastern hills. The valley’s protections were assaulted with a great surge of dark power, and I instinctively took action to strengthen them. The attack was repelled; however, I fear the consequences may be grave.”
“Do they continue to—”
“No. They have gone.”
“Gone? They waited nearly a month to make their move, and made only one attempt to breach the valley?” Gandalf frowned. “If Rivendell is no longer in danger from Nazgûl, on what do you focus so intently? Of what consequences do you speak?”
“The assault was focused within the Cave of Crystal, and it was there that Vilya guided me to respond. Our two forces met, and the strain on the stones was sudden and violent. They cracked and shifted, and a vast flow of water deep within the hidden channels of the hill began to burst in great quantities through a newly-opened fissure.”
“Began to?”
“I am holding it back,” Elrond said with an effort. “I must. There was a person – perhaps more than one – in the cave when the attack came.”
Gandalf eyed him in alarm. “Surely whoever was there has, by now, had the good sense to leave.”
Elrond shook his head. “Someone is in need, but I cannot tell who, or how many. He... they are there still.” He took a deep breath. “Gandalf, I do not know how long I can keep the waters suppressed so that the cave does not flood. I dare not lose control.”
Without a word, Gandalf grasped Elrond’s shoulder with his right hand. Instantly, Elrond felt Narya’s fire adding strength to his mind and body. He nodded his thanks, and felt the steady drain on his energies slow... but not stop. He would be able to endure for a while longer, but could not keep this up indefinitely.
“I saw Pippin running from the House towards the east,” Gandalf said quietly. “I do not know if it is the other hobbits who are in the cave, but he seemed to know that someone was. It cannot be mere chance that the attack focused at that place, and precisely at a time when the cave was occupied. There is more at work here than we know.”
“Yes,” Elrond whispered. “Find Frodo. I fear for him.”
“All who can be spared will be sent to the cave, at once.” Gandalf said. “I will also ride with Glorfindel to the Ford, to ensure that all is well.” He turned to leave.
“Gandalf, hold a moment,” Elrond said. “Aragorn returned a short time ago. By the time it is safe for me to allow the waters to release their torrent, I may have little strength left. If there are injuries, he needs to understand... you must tell him...”
“I will,” Gandalf assured him. “Call for assistance if you need it. When everyone is out of the cave, I will reach out to you in thought.”
Gandalf strode from Elrond’s study, and nearly collided with Erestor.
“Your lord is within, and is not to be disturbed unless you hear him call,” Gandalf said, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“It will be as you ask,” Erestor said. “Do you know what happened?”
“I know some things, and will soon learn others,” Gandalf said. To his relief, he saw Aragorn running towards them. He had obviously come straight from the bathing rooms; his long hair was damp, and he was barefoot and clad in only a loose tunic and trousers.
“Aragorn, you must go immediately to the cave in the eastern hills,” Gandalf instructed. “Do you know of it?”
“Of course,” Aragorn said. “What has—”
“There is no time to explain,” Gandalf said. “Take everyone you can spare. Tell them to gather lanterns and carts, shovels, and picks, and make haste. There is a possibility that the hobbits are trapped or injured, and there may be others.”
Aragorn’s eyes widened with shock, and he nodded.
“If anyone is hurt, you must do what you can,” Gandalf added. “Elrond may not be able to help you.”
“I understand,” Aragorn said, although he really didn’t, not at all. He set off at a run to ring the great bell that had not tolled since the Council.
~*~
The Last Homely House was about two miles from the cave, and Merry ran nearly the first half-mile on adrenaline alone. He barely registered his surroundings, his thoughts were whirling so fast. He wondered if there had ever been an earthquake in Rivendell before, and whether Sam and the others were alive or dead, and what Frodo would do if anything had happened to Sam, and why was it that the one Dwarf within a hundred miles – the person best suited to dig him out – was trapped with him, and maybe hurt, or worse, and how that stone had seemed to know exactly when Frodo was beneath it, and why a piece of that debris flying all over the place had only hit Frodo and not him, and if the whole trip South was going to be one calamity after another and there was no way he and Pippin were letting Frodo out of their sight ever again, and...
“Merry!”
Merry looked up just in time to avoid running directly into Pippin. He stopped and fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
“Where are the others?” Pippin asked, joining him on the ground. “Did you feel the earthquake? Merry, talk to me! Where’s Frodo?”
“In the cave,” Merry gasped. “The whole place shook and a huge stone fell, and Frodo’s leg is hurt, but he wouldn’t leave.”
“He wouldn’t leave?”
“I had to go for help, we can’t dig them out alone.”
“Dig who out?”
“Pip, you have to run back to the House, right now. No one knows that anything’s happened, and—”
“Yes, they do. Look.” Pippin jumped to his feet and started waving frantically at a lone horseman who was galloping at full speed towards them. “Strider!”
Aragorn came abreast of the two hobbits and reined in his borrowed horse. Merry staggered to his feet, still breathing hard.
“There’s been a cave-in,” Merry said urgently. “Frodo’s hurt. Sam and Legolas and Gimli are trapped.”
Without a word, Aragorn reached down his hand. He pulled Merry up to sit in front of him, then Pippin behind.
“Strider, we need more people!” Merry exclaimed anxiously.
“Nearly all of Elrond’s folk are on their way,” Aragorn said. “They were loading carts with supplies when I left.”
“But how did you know about—”
“Gandalf,” Aragorn said tersely. He wrapped one arm around Merry’s waist, and felt Pippin’s small hands clutch at his tunic. He urged the horse forward. “Tell me everything, Merry. Leave nothing out.”
~*~
Gimli stared at the wall, waving his torch back and forth. He had reached the end of the cave, and was disappointed it went no deeper. There had been no sign of mithril... which any self-respecting Dwarf would recognize at fifty paces in the dark, and something for which every Dwarf instinctively searched, whenever he found himself underground. But the layers of rock were lined with crystals, gems, and other precious metals, which had kept him happily occupied with inspecting and identifying. He turned back reluctantly, alone with his thoughts.
His two companions had already left him, hearing a murmur of voices from the direction they had come. Without the keen hearing of Elves, or even hobbits, he had heard nothing save the ever-present sound of water from within the walls. Sam had been most distressed when he realized that, in his eagerness to hear their tales, he had left his master far behind. Legolas quickly – too quickly, to Gimli’s mind – offered to accompany him back to Frodo and Merry. Gimli shook his head, mystified; Legolas had exclaimed more delightedly over the occasional tree root they passed than at the wonders of the cave itself. To Gimli, the bulging roots were no more than an annoyance, making it difficult for him to walk without tripping.
He was muttering to himself about the inexplicable ways of Elves when an invisible force slammed into him, buffeting him about as if caught in a windstorm. The ground shook, and Gimli fought to remain on his feet. There was a fearsome sound of crashing and tumbling from somewhere ahead, and a deafening crack even closer, and he watched in horror as a fissure in the previously-solid wall opened before his eyes. Without warning, a powerful cascade of icy-cold water surged through it, drenching him and knocking him to the ground. His torch went out, and he tried desperately to regain his footing against the pressure of the water blasting over him. To his surprise, as quickly as it had begun, the water coming through the fissure slowed to a trickle. It was utterly dark, and when he called out, he heard no answering voices. Taking his chance, Gimli scrambled to his feet and made his way as quickly as possible along the passage. When he had gone some distance, the inky darkness gave way to a pinprick of light; it was a small flame, flickering on the ground just ahead. He ran to it, and found that it was one of the torches -- abandoned. He raised it high, then gasped in shock at what was revealed before him.
The passageway leading back to the entrance was completely blocked by a massive rock-fall, and the ground between him and the obstruction was littered with large rocks and piles of splintered crystal. His heart began to beat faster when his gaze fell upon something familiar: the basket Sam had been carrying. It lay on its side, partially smashed, its contents strewn.
“Sam!” Gimli bellowed, picking his way through the tumbled rocks. When he reached the basket he tripped over something and fell to his knees, cursing tree roots in his own language. But it was not a root on which he had stumbled: it was Legolas, his body partially buried under debris. Gimli brought the torch closer, and caught his breath; sprawled beneath the Elf’s body, barely visible, was Sam. Both lay still as death.
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