Fear of Failure

“The darkness holds no fear.” I spoke those words, but knew they were not wholly true. The absence of light was uncomfortable, but it alone held no fear. I knew with certainty that evil things lurked in the dark pit that had once been the greatest kingdom of the Naugrim. Yet did I fear them?

No. Yrch, whether tall uruk or squat goblins hiding in the gloom; both were knowable and conquerable foes. Fighting against them in the darkness would be hard, close and bloody work, but individually they were weak and posed little challenge. And there had been little sign of large numbers of their kind, they had come across a few scattered number of their wicked kind, and one large camp. But otherwise Moria was empty; the air thick with the dust of ages and the weight of the mountain above.

My keen eyes, so accustomed to sunlight or starlight, now strained in the oppressive darkness of the halls of the Naugrim. And I knew fear. For I knew the rumour of what dwelled still in the deepest levels, that accursed remnant of the Elder days. A Balrog. The very thought sent a chill through my being, for the Balrog was an adversary unlike any other, a foe beyond me, beyond any of us.

I frowned as we walked through the darkness; Danel had also seen the terrible beings of shadow and flame, but she did not despair, still held onto hope. Was my courage so lacking?

“Remember Lelyafas, in your heart burns the same brave light that once guided our greatest King. If ever you face a foe as terrible as our King, you will not run, but be brave as he once was.”

But I was not brave. I had fled before, leaving Cendamo to perish alone. Would I flee again, leaving Parnard and Marawendi alone in the dark? Would I leave Rácarnë? I tightened my grip on my cracked sword. An imperfect weapon in the hand of an imperfect warrior. I could make no promise.