The
Tale
They
trudge along the track for miles. Eventually they come to the remains of the
Stair Falls, which has been reduced to a mere trickle. They climb the stone
steps next to it until they find the solution to the mystery: the stream of the
Sirannon has been blocked and the shallow valley before the Walls of Moria is
now a dark still lake. There is no sign of a gate can be seen in the frowning
stone.
By
the light of the setting sun they make their way up the slope until they reach
the lake. They skirt along its side, at one point having to pass through a
shallow stretch of dark, unclean water. As Sam, the last of the company, leads
Bill up to the dry ground on the other side, there is a swish and a plop, and
they turn to see a circle of ripples spreading far out in the lake.
They
hurry along the dry strip along the walls until they come to a space where two
ancient holly trees stand like sentinels before a blank stretch of wall. In
happier days, Gandalf says, a whole avenue of these trees marked the end of the
Elven realm of Eregion. The West Doors, also called the Elven Gate, was mostly
used by the Elves for traffic and trade with Moria, back when Elves and Dwarves
were still good friends. Gimli and Legolas needle each other a bit about the
falling out, both implying that it was the fault of the other race, but Gandalf
asks them to be good friends now and help him find the shut and hidden doors.
While
he looks, he bids the others to leave behind anything unnecessary, especially
their heavier clothes, and take on the extra food and water that the pony has
been carrying. They cannot take Bill into the Mines; there are steep and narrow
places he cannot pass. Sam bursts into tears at the thought of abandoning Bill
in this forsaken land with wolves prowling nearby, but Gandalf puts words of
guard and guiding on the pony, instructing the animal to make his way back to
Rivendell. He tells Sam that Bill will have just as much chance of getting home
safely as they do.
When
the Company have readied their packs, they turn to find Gandalf gazing at the
blank wall before him while Gimli taps on the stone and Legolas pressing his
ear against the wall as if listening.
Merry asks, well, where are the Doors? ‘Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen
when shut,’ said Gimli. ‘They are invisible, and their own masters cannot find
them or open them, if their secret is forgotten.’ Gandalf says there are still signs that eyes
that know what to look for can still see.
He passes his hands over the wall, muttering under his breath. In the night, under the now clear light of the moon, they see faint silver thread glowing and growing until they can see the ancient design on the stone.
There
are the emblems of Durin, and the Tree of the High Elves, and the Star of the
House of Feanor. ‘They are wrought of ithildin, that mirrors only starlight and
moonlight, and sleeps until it is touched by one who speaks words now long
forgotten in Middle-earth.’ There are also words in an ancient Elvish script
that Gandalf translates as ‘The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend,
and enter.’ And under that, fainter, their makers mark: I, Narvi, made them.
Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.’ Merry asks what does ‘Speak, friend,
and enter’ means, and Gandalf says the Doors will open if you say the password.
But he reveals, to the dismay of the Company, that he doesn’t know the word …
yet.
Boromir is angry that Gandalf brought them to this accursed spot, and Pippin asks what will the wizard do if he can’t find the right words. ‘Knock on the doors with your head, Peregrin Took … and if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will seek for the opening words.’
But
after many failed tries, however, even the simple word of Open! in many
tongues, he throws his staff down and sits in silence.
The
night deepens, the stars shine clearer, and the howls of wolves start to grow
on the night winds. In frustration Boromir throws a stone into the dark lake,
which makes Frodo nervous. For some reason he fears the pool and does not want
it disturbed. The howling grows louder and the hobbits more nervous, when
suddenly Gandalf springs up with a laugh.
‘I
have it!’ he cried. ‘Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles
when you see the answer.’ Picking up his staff he stood before the rock and
said in a clear voice: Mellon!’
The
star shines out briefly then disappears. A huge door is outlined, then splits
down the middle. Slowly the doors swing open. They can see a shadowy stair inside,
leading into darkness. Merry of all people was close to the answer: the phrase
translated ‘Speak, friend, and enter’ should have been read as ‘Say “Friend”
and enter’. ‘Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these
suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go.’
Suddenly Frodo is seized by a pale-green, fingered tentacle that has come snaking out of the lake. Frodo falls and Bill neighs in terror and bolts off. Torn between his master and his pony, Sam leaps forward with a sob and attacks the tentacle, which lets Frodo loose. But twenty other arms come boiling out, and a hideous stench fills the air. Gandalf yells for everyone to get inside and, galvanized, the company rushes through the door.
They
are barely inside when many tentacles seize the gates and slam them shut. A
noise of rending and crashing comes through the ponderous stone. Gandalf goes
down to try to open the doors, but they only quiver and tremble a bit. It is
obviously blocked by boulders and from the sounds even the ancient holly trees.
‘I am sorry; for the trees were beautiful, and had stood so long.’ What was that
thing? Something, perhaps, that had crept or been drive out of the waters under
the mine. ‘There are older and fouler than Orcs in the deep places of the
world.’ But it grabbed Frodo first out of all the Fellowship.
Gandalf
lights his staff, which gives off a faint radiance, and leads them up the stairs.
They count two hundred steps until they reach an arched passage with a level
floor at the top. Here, at Frodo’s suggestion, they stop and eat. Gandalf gives
them all another sip of miruvor. There is not much left, but they need
it after the horror at the gate. He cautions them to go easy on the water. They
might pass wells and streams in Moria, but they should not drink from them. It
will be a forty mile trek (perhaps more) until they come out at the East Gate
and into the light again.
Bits
and Bobs
Well,
I didn’t finish the chapter as I had hoped, but there’s always tomorrow and a
fresh start. In the meanwhile, I got a lot of ‘real life’ done today.
Tolkien admitted he got the name ‘Moria’ from the famous Norwegian fairy tale, “Soria Moria Castle”. Just the name, really, not the story, which includes a series of trolls, with three, six, and nine heads. It might have appealed to him because it seems to include his Sindarin word ‘Mor’ (meaning ‘darkness, dark, night’). ‘Moria’ means ‘The Black Pit’, a name given by the Elves without love or respect for the ancient Dwarvish realm of Khazad-dum.
The
hidden nature of dwarf-doors is carried over from The Hobbit, where
Bilbo and the dwarves must find the hidden door that leads down to Smaug. There
it uses a key that can only be used at the right moment. Ithildin (‘star-moon’),
the substance that the inscriptions on the Gates are made from, was derived
from mithril by the Noldor. It is fitting that it is used on the Doors of
Durin, as Khazad-dum is the only place where mithril is found. One of Gandalf’s
incantations he that uses to try to open the Doors (‘Annan edhellon, edro hi
ammen! Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!) translates to ‘Elvish gate,
open now for us! Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue!’
You may notice several incidents that get shuffled or enhanced in the movie adaptations. But it’s Boromir who throws the stone into the lake, and Sam who saves Frodo from the tentacle, an instance that is heavily dramatized and complicated in both the Bakshi and Jackson films.
The
Watcher in the Water (as the dwarves have dubbed the creature in the lake) remains as another ‘unsolved
mystery’ and its motives only guessed at. Crept out by itself? Why? Driven out?
By what? It tries to snatch Frodo. For a snack, or is it a literal ‘power grab’
for the Ring?
Many
who like fantasy literature love the Moria episode. It could very well have
inspired the entire Dungeon and Dragon industry. Dennis McKiernan began his
career as a Fantasy writer by writing fan-fiction about a return to Moria that
he turned into the ‘duology’ of Trek to Kraggen-Cor and The Brega
Path. But first he had to write The Iron Tower Trilogy to set it up.
I find that McKiernan is now 90 years old. Wow.
‘Poor
old Bill! Wolves and snakes! But the snakes were too much for him. I had to
choose, Mr. Frodo. I had to come with you.’
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