"There's good news. I had a contest with the Balrog. Though the process was somewhat difficult and destroyed many buildings, he didn't gain any advantage."
"And the bad news?"
"We competed in your old home."
"That news is actually not bad. At least after we reclaim Moria in the future, we won't have to worry about having nothing to do for quite a long time."
Thorin spoke calmly, his emotions quite stable.
"Well, don't mind this small matter. At least the place is still intact, and besides, I'm still here."
Levi patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"You're right."
Thorin slowly nodded, but his expression showed no relaxation. Instead, it became increasingly grave.
"What's wrong? Don't you trust me?"
Levi asked directly as usual.
"No, I believe with your help, nothing is a problem."
"It's just..."
"The Balrog is really still there."
"The reclamation of Moria will probably take a very long time, with slim hope."
Thorin confided: "Balin has always wanted to do this. Just a few days ago he told me that once all our kinsmen return and equipment and weapons are prepared, he'd lead an army to reclaim Moria."
"Of course, that's what I want to do too."
"You know, Levi, we dwarves always spend our time losing homes and wandering. First Moria, then the Grey Mountains, then Erebor..."
"And the things that occupied our homes were always beyond our power to fight."
"Cold-drakes, the fire-dragon Smaug, Balrogs."
"We've never given up fighting them, but..."
Thorin sighed with the weight of generations.
The mountain environments that dwarves depended on for survival were always quite dangerous. Living on the surface would attract evil dragons following the scent of gold and silver, while digging too deep would encounter Balrogs. Besides these big creatures, there were ugly orcs all over the mountains, directly controlled by Sauron.
Enemies on all sides, each one troublesome.
Levi didn't know what to say.
The dwarves had stepped into almost every dangerous situation that could be encountered in Middle-earth.
"At least everything is developing in a positive direction now, isn't it?"
"Yes, I believe it will get better and better."
"By the way, there's one more thing."
Levi suddenly said: "Being able to bring back Durin's Axe also has the elves' contribution."
Thorin's movements stopped as he looked at Levi with surprise.
"It was the elves of Lothlórien. Lady Galadriel personally led a great army out of the Golden Wood and used her power to force the Balrog to retreat."
"That legendary witch who can bewitch minds... no, I mean, that lady who controls magic?"
"Yes."
"I understand."
Thorin nodded, his brows furrowing thoughtfully.
"If there's an opportunity, I'll thank that lady for her help. I won't owe them a favor."
"That would be best."
The matter was temporarily concluded.
The day after Levi brought Durin's Axe to Erebor, a grand ceremony was held.
The king spoke passionately from a high platform, announcing to his people the return of Durin's clan treasure.
Behind the treasure's return, Levi's battle with the Balrog and the perils he faced in Moria were also vividly and dramatically recounted with embellishments.
One man and one Balrog fought fiercely in Moria's depths for days, fighting until even the gates were destroyed.
Finally, the support and assistance of the Golden Wood elves were reluctantly added to the story. Though not given much space, it was rare in dwarven tales.
"Let's just give them credit for now."
"Hmph, if we didn't live so far away, it wouldn't be their turn!"
"That witch..."
"It's that magical lady. Our king addressed her as such."
"Well, that magical lady. I heard she's very beautiful. I bet her beard must be very long."
"But don't elves have no beards?"
"Uh, maybe that lady is different?"
Regardless of the process.
From the results, the elves' reputation among the dwarven clan had indeed improved considerably.
At the same time, a new title began spreading among the dwarves.
"Enemy of Balrogs."
That was someone who could be an enemy of Balrogs. Legend said Balrogs couldn't gain advantage over him and could only be beaten back to the depths.
His name was Levi Stonecraft.
The dwarves sang of his title.
But in another place, this name had become taboo.
"Him."
Not long after Levi arrived at the Lonely Mountain, a tall figure in black robes wearing a towering black helmet emerged from Mordor.
His mount was equally massive and ugly in appearance and was wearing a terrifying mask, its head like a skull with evil flames emanating from eye sockets and nostrils.
If uninformed people saw him, they would probably mistake him for a Nazgûl.
But whether in power, status, or age, he was perhaps higher than most Nazgûl.
"The Mouth of Sauron, Lieutenant of Barad-dûr, greets you."
Several days later, in a deep pit of Moria, this tall, dark human politely greeted the Balrog. The terrifying high temperature filling the depths didn't affect him at all.
"I very much dislike the color of your armor."
"That's truly regrettable. I guarantee it will be a different color when we next meet."
"What do you want?"
"My master says we have a common enemy: him, that human."
Rumble.
Heat waves capable of roasting all life swept forth, stopping within a few feet, almost melting the armor.
"So?"
Flames erupted from its mouth, simulating speech.
The Mouth of Sauron stepped back two paces and pulled out a roll of heat-resistant magical parchment.
"Master says that in some unreachable caverns in the earth's foundations, there might be some fire spirits still sleeping."
"This records dark magic that can summon your kinfolk, assuming they truly exist."
"This might require some assistance from you."
No one knew exactly how the Mouth of Sauron negotiated with the Balrog.
But it was certain he completed the task his master assigned excellently.
A dancing flame was stored in a sturdy small box and taken back to Mordor.
Several days later, another batch of orcs set out from Mordor, stationed in Moria's deep pits. At the same time, a new orc leader of Moria appeared.
Changes occurred quietly. Even the nearby Golden Wood couldn't detect this activity. Those skeletal horses galloping across the wild seemed covered by something, noticed by no one.
Except...
"What is that?"
On wild land north of the White City intersecting with the Dead Marshes, a Ranger hid behind a tree, crouching low and secretly peering out.
"Black robes, skeletal horses, such an ominous aura..."
"Could that be the remaining Black Númenórean, the Mouth of Sauron?"
The Ranger removed his hood and looked into the distance.
"Perhaps some new changes have occurred in this land."
"But I've only been away for two years. What could happen in just two years?"
Halbarad stared at the gradually receding black figure for quite a while. After confirming he had left, he emerged from hiding, stepped onto the road, and continued toward the west of the Misty Mountains.
It was time to visit that Wizard of the Wild.
He wondered if he had been well recently.