Author's Note: This is a prequel, I suppose, to my last two LOTR fics Fight the Fall and Keeping to the Road. It takes place just before, during, and after the journey through Moria. I have mixed the bookverse and movieverse.

Anything that seems familiar, especially lines of dialogue, are right from the movies or the book. All ideas are inspired by the book and the movies. Any lines or scenes that I have taken directly from any other source or are too similar to scenes from the films are in italics. No disrespect is intended.

Elvish is in italics as well and comes from many sources. They are The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien, the website councilofelrond.com and The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth by Ruth S. Noel. I've never really tried to speak elvish, so if there are any inaccuracies here, they are my own mistakes. (Feel free to correct me, but please give me sources so I can learn as much as I can about Elvish.)

The elvish names I have made up were either from the sources above or from the Elvish Name Generator.

Legolas' family history is my own invention. Forgive me if the history I invented doesn't quite match your own.

The bit about the dwarves—if this conflicts with canon, consider it AU. I don't remember much about The Hobbit as it's been a long long time since I read it. If I messed up a time line, please forgive me. (And let me know.)

WARNING: If you have not seen the movie, or if you have not read the books, don't read this fic if you don't want to know what happens. Really. I mean it

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this. I am actually making no money at all and am in desperate need of a job, but that's another story.

Please read and review. Please

The Path That Need Chooses (Prequel to Fight the Fall and Keeping to the Road) by Ecri

"Let the Ringbearer decide." Gandalf's voice carried far enough that they all heard, and not a heart on that mountain was unsympathetic to the Hobbit's plight. Aragorn stared in bewilderment at Gandalf. Why would the wizard leave this to Frodo? The Hobbit was having a hard enough time dealing with the influence of the ring, and the guilt of having brought his three closest friends with him into peril.

All eyes turned then to Frodo, who looked uncommonly small and weary. Frodo tried to decide what Gandalf thought wisest. He searched his old friend's face, thinking perhaps he would give him a clue, a nudge, or a word or two as he had when they'd left Rivendell and the Hobbit had had to ask which direction to go.

There was no help in the wizened features. Frodo swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was clear, and, he hoped, decisive, though his eyes reflected his doubt. "We will go through the mines."

He could tell his words brought relief to some, frustration to othersand perhaps fear to many. He sighed hoping he wouldn't regret the decision, but thinking that, at the very least, they would be out of the snow.

**

Legolas heard the words he had dreaded. He had been pleased when Gandalf had chosen the mountain over the mines. Now, he realized, he had gained only a brief respite. The Fellowship would descend. He tried to shake the icy dread that gripped his heart at the Hobbit's pronouncement. He would face this trial as bravely as the others. He would not show any weakness. He was an elf. He was a Thranduil's son. He could face this fear. He would certainly not allow that stupid dwarf the satisfaction of learning of it. He would be fine. He repeated the words again and again as they turned towards Moria.

The Fellowship retraced their steps heading back down the mountain. The weather seemed to worsen at first and then, the further down they moved, the less snow fell. When finally they reached the bottom, the snow had ceased. All that lay on the ground were a few patches of snow here and there.

They took a brief rest for a meal and a fire, gathering their strength and recovering from the ordeal on the mountain. Legolas, the least affected by the winter weather, did everything he could to help the others, especially the Hobbits, recuperate.

As he was assisting Frodo remove his sodden cloak, the Hobbit looked up at the elf, worry plain on his face. "Legolas?" He spoke softly, hesitantly.

"Speak Master Hobbit." He answered in light, happy tones, trying to keep his own spirits up as well as Frodo's. "Have you need of something?"

Frodo looked away briefly at the others bustling about their camp, drying clothes and warming themselves, and then looked back at Legolas. He took a step closer and spoke more softly as though afraid he would be overheard. "Was I right?"

"About what, Frodo?" Legolas became more serious

"Did I make the right choice? Is it safe to go to Moria?"

Legolas could not bring himself to smile and brush away the hobbit's concerns. "I know not. I have never been there. Moria is not a realm an elf would readily choose to visit."

Frodo nodded. He should have realized that. "I would ask Gimli, but"

This time, Legolas actually laughed. "But you would then be regaled with tales of dwarvendom to make you wonder how all other races took no notice of the limitless joy and bliss only dwarves are capable of having."

Frodo smiled. "Something like that."

Legolas' smile faded as he considered where they were going. "I cannot say if your choice was right or wrong. I can only remind you that we go as a Fellowship. Whatever we face, we face it togetherbe it hidden monsters or" He shuddered, exaggerating his movement and forcing a look of disgust on his fair face. "Dwarven hospitality."

As Legolas had hoped, Frodo laughed outright, and Legolas allowed himself a small smile. He would not have the Ringbearer worry needlessly. He vowed to bear his own small burden silently.

**

The trail to the doors of Moria was not well marked. The Fellowship followed Gandalf as he picked his way through the forest, sometimes consulting with Gimli. Gimli seemed slightly unsure from time to time, but he recovered quickly and soon the two would choose a direction.

Closer and closer to the doors of Moria they moved until, with each step, Legolas could feel his apprehension building. He jumped when he felt someone approach him from behind, and whirled to face this new threat only to come face to face with his old friend.

"Aragorn."

"Sidh, Legolas. You seem distracted." (Peace.)

"And well I might be, for the journey we are taking is all my mind can see."

"You fear entering Mordor?"

"I would enter Mordor with little problem, mellonin. It is a nearer destination that gives me pause."

"Moria. Forgive me, Legolas. I did not think."

"There is nothing to forgive, Aragorn. We go where we must. I would not have our path chosen by my anxieties. The Ringbearer has made his choice. I will not allow fear to dictate mine."

"If I saw another way"

"I know you would spare me this if you could. Do not speak of it to Frodo. I will not add to his burden." The elf locked eyes with his human friend with a communication more direct and meaningful than mere words could convey.

"You know I will do as you ask. Nin mellon, Ú-'ost. Henion, but Legolas, while we travel through Moria, if you have need of my help, you have but to ask." (My Friend, fear not. I understand.)

"Le hannon, Aragorn. I will be fine." (Thank you. Literally, I thank thee.)

**

The walls of Moria were steep and black. Merry eyed the cold stone as he munched on an apple he'd dug from his pack. "Well here we are and all ready to enter. But where are the doors? I can't see any sign of them."

Gimli had difficulty hiding his exuberance at being so near the mines. "Dwarf doors are not made to be seen when shut and their own masters cannot find them or open them, if their secret is forgotten."

"Why does that not surprise me." Legolas kept his voice low, but being so near the dwarven kingdom, he truly did not care if Gimli heard him. The inevitability of entering the caves crushed his heart as a stone crushed a flower.

Gandalf inspected the walls closely. Finally, he made a satisfied noise and began to rub at the walls with his fingers. "Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

The others of the Fellowship gathered nearby waiting expectantly for Gandalf to open the door now that it had been found. After several tries, Gandalf admitted that this might take longer than expected.

As they waited, each of the company tried to find something to occupy his time and relieve his thoughts of anxiety. Pippin and Merry began to throw stones into the water until Aragorn stopped them with a stern word.

Gimli eloquently described the reception they could expect from his cousin Balin once they were inside. As he spoke, Sam asked him questions of the dwarves.

"Master Samwise, you have not known hospitality until you have been a guest at a dwarven feast!" Sam, Merry, and Pippin gathered nearby to listen to the tales, their stomachs rumbling at the vivid descriptions of the food they would be offered. "Truly," Gimli continued. "They will treat us like Royalty!" Sensing that Legolas was nearby, Gimli couldn't help but bait the uppity elf. "It will be more grand and comfortable than anything the elves could offer, I assure you!"

The Hobbits winced at this, and peered in Legolas' direction hoping the elf had not heard or would choose to disregard the remark.

**

Legolas listened as Boromir and Aragorn shared tales of the White City. For a time, he thought he might almost forget where they stood and what they planned. He studied the two Lords of Gondor as they spoke, noting the similarities and the differences. Both were fair for humans, and both had experience and wanted what was best for their people. Both were brave and strong, but Aragorn held a kingly air that all his time as a Ranger could not diminish. Boromir seemed lost at times, unsure of his place in his people's history, but determined to protect Gondor from outsiders.

As Legolas listened to their latest tale, Boromir paused in his narrative for a breath. In that momentary silence, Gimli's voice rang clear.

"It will be more grand and comfortable than anything the elves could offer, I assure you!"

Legolas felt himself stiffen at the implied slight to elves everywhere and to Imladris in particular. Affronted, he stood to face the dwarf only to be stopped by Aragorn's strong grip. Havo dad, Legolas. He meant nothing." (Sit down.)

"Man pennich, Aragorn? (What did you say?) He insults your home. He belittles the Last Homely House! Surely you cannot let him speak of Lord Elrond like that! Lin adar e na! (He is your father!)"

"Sidh! He wants only to annoy you. Do not let him." (Peace!)

"Ú-chenion! How can you allow him to speak so of Lord Elrond's hospitality?" (I do not understand.)

Legolas' frustration was almost painful to see. Aragorn knew it had little to do with the words the dwarf had uttered.

Aragorn stared at the elf until the weight of it compelled Legolas to look at him. "You do understand, nin mellon, and so do I."

Gimli stood meanwhile glaring at the friends. "If you're going to speak in front of us, use the common speech! You do not see me drifting into my own tongue!"

Legolas laughed, but there was only disbelief, not joy, in the sound. "I scarcely notice when you speak at all, Master Dwarf, whatever the language."

"Legolas! This gets us nowhere!"

Legolas realized how strongly Aragorn wished for him to avoid this confrontation, and, in truth, he knew it was his trepidation at entering the mines of Moria that fed his anger. He took a deep, calming breath, and inclined his head ever so slightly.

Aragorn read his intent and relaxed his grip on his friend's arm. When Legolas turned to seat himself, however, Gimli was there, grabbing that same arm and spinning him around only to glare at him in fury.

"I will not allow you to insult my people, my language, or my honor!"

"Yet you think nothing of insulting the honor, the hospitality, of all elvenkind! Lord Elrond welcomed you and your companions into Imladris! He made you welcome in The Last Homely House! All you asked for he provided! Now, behind his back, you belittle his efforts? All this you do in front of his kin? Ungracious dwarf!"

"I'll not allow you to speak of me this way! I will have satisfaction!"

Legolas sneered at the dwarf, his fair features momentarily hard and cruel. "Satisfaction? Lasto al lalaith nín!" (Elven insult: Listen to my laughter!)

Though Gimli did not understand the elf's words, the general meaning was clear. He took a step forward, reaching for his axe.

Legolas put a hand to his knife, only to feel another hand already there. Startled, he turned his head to find Aragorn resting a restraining hand on Legolas and his weapon. Legolas' eyes blazed with fury for a moment, but, when Aragorn almost imperceptibly shook his head, Legolas could read the concern—not just for Legolas, but for the entire Fellowship—in his eyes.

Silently, the elf prince released the white hilt of his blade, and, with a nod to his long time friend, he addressed the dwarf with his most regal of tones. "We have each vowed to be here for a purpose, Master Dwarf. We would both do well to remember that."

Turning, he walked away from the dwarf, and eased himself down to sit on a stone some distance away. As he sat, Legolas considered Aragorn's unspoken advice and knew he should take it. Truthfully, he believed his anxiety over entering Moria was making him quick to anger. The dwarf was irritating, to be sure, but in different circumstances, Legolas would likely have ignored him. Now, knowing he would soon enter the dark depths of Moria, he found it hard to draw his attention away from his pounding heart. When he had heard the dwarf's words, though he knew he was being baited, Legolas had clung to the distraction like an elfling climbing his first tree.

He cursed his own weakness, vowing not to become lost in his own fears to the detriment of the Fellowship. The Hobbits, even the men, needed his protection. He would not allow any injury to his comrades no matter the personal cost.

As Gandalf continued his attempts to open the stone doors of Moria, Legolas forced himself to take in his surroundings. He was a warrior and should be alert in case of danger. The rock wall, the stony ground, and the murky water, though hiding no specific threat, did indeed feel ominous and uninviting, but the elf was unsure if that were something inherent in his surroundings or simply his own fears and anxieties made manifest. Certainly, stone and rock offered no comfort to an elf.

His gaze fell on the single growing thing he could find so close to the mines. To the right of the doors, which still captivated the attention of the Fellowship, stood a tree. Legolas did not wonder how he had not noticed it before. Gray, twisted, bent, with not a leaf, flower, or bud anywhere upon it, the tree nearly blended into its stark gray surroundings. He could not tell if it yet lived, but he was drawn to it nevertheless.

Surefooted, even on the rocky terrain, he crossed to the tree. It did not look well, but it was not, in itself, an evil thing. In close proximity, Legolas could sense its life. That it grew here at all was something of a miracle to the elf. It could get but little sunlight at the base of Caradhras. For the first time in the millennia of his life, he was unsure how a tree would react to his touch. Surely, it had not seen many elves in its untold days.

Tentatively, he held out a hand. The moment he made contact, he could feel its song crescendo. The tree did not hide its elation that an elf—and a Wood Elf at that!—had touched it. Legolas smiled, enjoying its song and coaxing it towards health.

While Gandalf worked, Legolas hovered near the tree giving and getting what comfort he could. All too soon, the wizard opened the doors to Moria.

As they made their way inside, Legolas tried not to listen to Gimli's tales of dwarven hospitality. The elf was so distracted by the sight of the stone walls reaching up, up far above his head, that it took Boromir's exclamation that Moria was a tomb before the warrior in him took charge.

Kneeling by the nearest body, which was in reality a skeleton, he found an arrow that all too clearly identified their hidden enemy. "Goblins!" He called out to his friends. Instantly standing and nocking an arrow, he scanned their surroundings for any threatening motion.

The hobbits lingered near the door, moving slowly backwards as Boromir exhorted them all to leave and find the Gap of Rohan.

Sam, glad to be so close to escape, felt his heart freeze in fear when Frodo cried out and sunk to the ground. "Strider!" he called over his shoulder as he raced after his friend and began hacking at the long, slimy tentacle that held Frodo by the ankle.

The Fellowship dashed to Frodo's aid. Legolas let fly arrow after arrow with deadly precision, while Boromir and Aragorn sliced and hacked at the creature. Once Aragorn's sword freed the Hobbit from the monster's grip, Boromir shouted to Legolas, knowing the elf would need no encouragement to shoot the beast again and gain them precious moments to escape.

Legolas' arrow was soaring towards its target before the man's voice spawned an echo. The creature, angered at losing its prey, and at being the target of such weapons, reached up with its massive body as if it meant to follow them into Moria. Instead, it shook the doors and pulled at the foundation, until it brought the rock down on the hapless company.

The Prince of Mirkwood was stunned by the darkness. He heard his comrades panting and gasping for breath, and, just when he thought the lack of light would drive him mad, he saw a faint glow from the corner of his eye. He turned toward the glimmer feeling a giddy hope build within him. Somehow, a light poured forth from Mithrandir's staff, and, though the darkness did not recede much, it was enough to flood the elf with relief.

Gandalf heard the frightened breathing of the Fellowship. It did not take the senses of the Istari to know they needed to calm down. He spoke clearly, slowly, his voice imbued with peace and confidence. He considered his words carefully.

"Well, well." Said the Wizard. "The passage is blocked behind us now and there is only one way out—on the other side of the mountain."

The Fellowship listened to his words, both comforted by the sheer act of his assurances that they would be moving forward, yet frightened by his admission that the way across would be long and arduous with little chance at finding more food and water.

The walked as quickly as they dared, which is to say, slowly indeed. The lack of light and treacherous path kept them at an even pace. Frodo eased himself a bit closer to Gandalf taking comfort in his presence. The ring lay heavily upon his chest and he had begun to think the journey was beyond him. Having chosen this route, he now feared he'd led them all to their doom.

Gandalf peered down at his young friend and offered an encouraging smile. "Come, Frodo. We should continue on at least for a short time before we call our evening halt."

Frodo nodded, reassured by the smile. "Gandalf?" He made the name a question as they began to walk. "What did you mean there are older and fouler things than orcs? What things? Itit isn't Sauron, is it?"

Gandalf reached down and put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "No need to fear that, my friend. Sauron is in Mordor. The things I speak of have been in Middle-earth since before the beginning. With luck, we will pass through Moria without waking them."

Frodo nodded, not sure if he felt better or not. He looked to Sam, Merry, and Pippin who appeared to be deep in discussion about the proper way to brew ale. Frodo could tell, however, by the way their eyes darted to the shadows, and the way they walked—as though something evil followed close behind—that his dearest friends were frightened.

"All that time, all those years" he whispered to himself, shaking his head.

"What? What years? Which time?" Gandalf looked down at his friend, concern plain on his face.

Frodo sighed and answered the question, though he didn't look up at the Istari. "All those times, when I was a child, I would beg Bilbo to tell me stories of his adventuresI never once stopped to think that it was much more fun to look back on than to live through." Now, he did look up, and his eyes held a sorrow Gandalf had hoped never to see there. "I never imagined that while he was doing all those amazing things, he was probably quite frightened."

"There's nothing wrong with fear, Frodo. Without it, people would risk their lives in all sorts of silly ways. As long as you don't let your fear paralyze you, you'll be just fine."

Frodo nodded, and offered his long-time friend a small tentative smile of his own.

Legolas had positioned himself behind the wizard taking some comfort in the glow that bobbed above his head. The shadows of this place, he knew, would haunt him even after they left it far behind.

Four days. Legolas didn't know if he should laugh or weep. Four days buried beneath a mountain. Four days cut off from the sun, the sky, the starsthe trees. The mere thought set his heart to aching. He took a deep calming breath, but the stale, damp air did little to ease the ache.

He looked inside himself, knowing he needed to find strength and resolve to go on. He had made a vow to protect Frodo. He would see it through. No matter how many days he would now dwell in darkness, it would be nothing compared to the despair that would crush Middle-earth should the quest fail. He was a prince, and even if he were not, he was an elf. He would do his duty.

To Be Continued