-General-
"Aldril! Aldril! Are you okay!?" Kili shouted, running toward the spot where his friend had been hurled. The trail he left stretched for at least eighty meters; such a distance was only a small testament to the force unleashed by the magical explosion—a devastating combination of ice and fire.
Back at the camp, the dwarves reacted immediately: they grabbed their weapons, and those who had been naked barely managed to throw on underwear and boots before rushing out. Soon they reached the place that, until recently, had been part of the lake. There, many stood staring in disbelief at the warped mace resting at the bottom of the ravine, a sign of how deep that body of water had once been.
"What's that?" asked a curious dwarf as he advanced toward the edge. Intent on sliding down to investigate, he took another step, but was stopped by the Grey Wizard, who blocked his path with the shaft of his staff.
Shaking his head, Gandalf turned his gaze to Fili, whose arms trembled uncontrollably. It had been he who screamed upon witnessing, in all its horrifying splendor, the creature.
"Wake up, Fili," the wizard commanded, his stern voice cutting through the dwarf's stupor like a lightning bolt. "This is no time to stand frozen. Pull your men back. No one with a fragile mind should behold such an abomination."
His warning was no exaggeration. Though the monster had been reduced to scattered remains, part of its head was still exposed. Its twisted tentacles, combined with a mouth full of saw-like teeth and flesh of a sickly crimson hue, radiated an unnatural presence—a sensation that clawed at the subconscious of all who dared to look at it.
It felt as though opposing forces were colliding within the mind, as if the very name of the onlooker struggled not to be torn away. Even in death, the abomination imposed its influence. And from the convulsions of those few unable to avert their gaze, it was clear that no one weak in spirit could withstand the sight.
With surprising agility for someone of his apparent age, Gandalf descended into the ravine. Each step sent up dust and dislodged small stones that tumbled after him.
Upon reaching the ground, he wasted no time. Swinging his staff in an arc, he murmured ancient words; from his magic sprang tiny sparrows of fire, glimmering like living embers, which flocked toward the monster's scattered remains. Wherever they touched, the flesh burned away with a sharp hiss, leaving only dark ash behind.
The exposed head still emanated that corrupt presence. Gandalf approached, tore off the grey cloak that covered him, and cast it over the abomination, shrouding it completely. Under the dim light of the place, his white shirt, falling to his knees, was briefly revealed before he summoned another cloak with a subtle gesture, covering himself once more.
On the other side, Aldril let out a breath of relief. The creature—or whatever it had been—had fallen; or rather, it had exploded into a thousand pieces. Yet doubt gnawed at him: Why had it attacked with such ferocity? And what was that voice he'd heard in his mind?
"Your name… I hate your name," he muttered, repeating the words that still echoed in his head. They had sounded grotesque, loaded with such profound loathing it felt as though it sought to tear his very essence away.
His thoughts, however, were interrupted by Kili, who, panting from the distance he had run, hurried to help him to his feet.
"Are you all right, Aldril?" he asked.
"I am," Aldril replied, looking gratefully at one of his best friends. "I just… didn't expect the explosion to throw me that far."
Kili let out a sigh of relief, pressing a hand to his chest. If Aldril had suffered a serious injury, the expedition would have to be called off; no one would dare venture further knowing a Balrog inhabited this place.
"That's a relief… but what the heck was that thing?" he finally said, voicing the question that had been gnawing at him.
He had barely caught a glimpse of it before it exploded, but it had been enough to plant a single, troubling thought in his mind: How could something like that exist on the outskirts of Moria? As far as he remembered, no tale made any mention of such a creature. Perhaps he should ask the elder dwarves traveling with them; there were only about a dozen, but with luck, one of them might know something.
"I don't know," said Aldril, and it wasn't a lie. No one knew anything about the creature that had appeared at the gates of Moria, and even in his own memories he found nothing that could answer those questions.
"Either way… that thing is dead now. Let's go to Gandalf; maybe he knows something."
"Right," Kili agreed.
The two of them headed toward the ravine. In the distance, only a few dwarves remained; the rest were retreating to the camp. But something strange caught their attention: several were being carried on stretchers, their bodies shaking uncontrollably with violent convulsions.
Upon reaching Fili, who was still barking orders to the dwarves, Kili quickly asked,
"What's wrong with… them?" He pointed toward the dwarves being carried off on stretchers.
"I have no idea," Fili replied, though his gaze drifted toward the old wizard who still stood at the bottom of the ravine. "Gandalf said that those weak of mind can't handle seeing the creature you killed, Aldril."
He then turned to the half-elf.
"Are you all right? Do you feel anything strange?"
Aldril frowned and shook his head.
"I'm fine… but what exactly do you mean by 'strange'?" he asked.
"Well… those who've seen the remains of that thing say they feel something odd, like something's watching them… and whispering in their ear."
Curious, Aldril closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he opened them and shook his head again. He felt nothing out of the ordinary. Even when he had stared the creature directly in the face, the only thing he'd heard was a whisper in his mind, but it hadn't made him uncomfortable at all.
"No, I don't feel anything," he said, before glancing at the brothers. "What about you two?"
Kili and Fili exchanged a look and shrugged. Fili was still trembling, but it was from the fear the creature had inspired in him, not from any strange discomfort. After all, both were strong-willed. And though they might sometimes seem foolish, the blood of Durin running through their veins was never to be underestimated.
"Putting that aside… now that the creature's dead, there's nothing more we can do. I'm going to rest. Tomorrow morning we enter Moria, so try not to stay up all night," Fili said, pulling Kili by the arm.
Kili protested, intent on staying with Aldril to hear whatever Gandalf had to say. But Fili, playing the role of the responsible older brother, dragged him back toward camp with the excuse that there would be plenty of time to ask all his questions tomorrow.
....
-Mirkwood-
In the private gardens of King Thranduil, three distinguished elves sat resting, enjoying the gentle breeze and the silver glow of the moon. For several minutes, none of them spoke; they simply sipped a fragrant tea brewed from special roots of Mirkwood's trees—or, as it was now called, the Forest of Renewal.
"So then…" began the elf with hair as black and smooth as the finest silk. "How shall we respond to Gandalf's message?"
It was Elrond of Rivendell. Like Galadriel, he had remained in the Forest of Renewal after the celebration. Just as they had been planning to depart, the message from the wizard had struck like lightning, forcing them to extend their stay.
"If what Gandalf says is true, there isn't much we can do," Thranduil replied with his usual composure. "A Balrog is not a beast that can be defeated by numbers."
"You're right," said Elrond. "However, I assume that the three of us, along with Galadriel, Gandalf, and Aldril, will be more than enough to annihilate Morgoth's servant."
"More than enough," added the third elf, whose golden hair gleamed brilliantly. "I've faced one before. Of course, back then those servants brimmed with the power of their master. Now, without Morgoth, their strength will surely have diminished… to the point that I alone could defeat it."
Thranduil chuckled softly.
"If I heard that from anyone else, I'd call it arrogance… but coming from you, I'm sure you could do it. Still, we'd best be cautious; it wouldn't do for something unforeseen to happen, don't you think, Glorfindel?"
**
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