In a hole in a ground, there lived a hobbit. He was a typical hobbit, who lived a typical hobbit life. His small house was placed along a country road, in a sparsely populated area of The Shire. He enjoyed typical hobbit things such as tending to his garden, going for walks, meeting with friends, drinking tea, and never doing anything over-adventurous.

One day, while tending to a particularly weedy patch of cabbages in his garden, he sighted a small party of creatures, from a distance he couldn't tell exactly what kind of creatures they were, but certainly not hobbits. As they came closer, their features became more distinct: bushy beards, a short, stocky stature, these were dwarves.

At last the group of dwarves reached the hobbit's humble abode. They appeared dazed, exhausted from their journey, probably from the Mines of Moria. "Kindly hobbit," one asked, "might we bother you for a small meal, and a bit of rest?" The hobbit hesitated, these strangers seemed to let on that something was amiss, but being the friendly creature he was, he lead them into his house. It was nearly time for second breakfast anyway.

As they ate, the dwarves remained silent. This began to bother the hobbit, when company was to be had, conversation was to be had as well! "What brings you here?" inquired the hobbit. The dwarves exchanged anxious glances.

"Grave news from the Mines," one said.

"The Mines? Haven't those been out of commission for quite some time?" replied the hobbit.

"We recently got them back in working order, but to our dismay, it seems another balrog has decided to move in."

"Nasty creatures those balrogs," said the hobbit, "are they really as horrible as the tales make them out to be?"

"As bad, and worse," muttered a dwarf, who had until now eaten in silence.

"So, what do you plan on doing about it?" asked the hobbit.

"Well, the elves are gone, the men are still rebuilding their cities, and the wizards would like to keep to themselves, so -"

"So you came to The Shire!" exclaimed the hobbit, half-chuckling.

"We have no one left to ask," said the head dwarf, "we have come in search of Lardo son of Samwise the Brave."

"And what exactly," asked the hobbit, "is your business with this Lardo?"

"We would like to request his assistance. Do you know where we could find him?" pleaded one of the dwarves.

"I am he," said the hobbit, Lardo, "and," he hesitated, "I suppose I could try and help." Lardo had always had the non-hobbitish desire to go on an adventure. "When shall we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready." answered the head dwarf.

The journey to Moria was a long one, Lardo could see why the dwarves had looked so tired when they had arrived at The Shire. But, at long last, Moria was visible through the fog-shrouded night. The group was walking along the bed of a river, and Lardo couldn't help but wonder if he was standing in the same place as his father and the legendary Frodo had stood.

One of the dwarves opened the doors to Moria, and they all began to venture in. As they walked, in eerie silence, one of the dwarves handed Lardo a small sword that had been leaning against one of the stone pillars. "You might find this of some use," said the dwarf.

The continued on until they reached a corridor that had been blocked off. For the first time, Lardo noticed the dwarves had become very grim, and this made him nervous. Lardo looked around him. There were towering arches, as far as the eye could see, in three directions. In the fourth was a huge cavern, with an extensive network of steps and bridges all the way down.

From behind the group, came a rhythmic thudding. A barely detectable hint of light appeared at the back of the room they were standing in. The thudding grew louder, with every thud the light grew brighter, the ground under the groups feet began to tremble. A fiery figure began to appear. Lardo noticed that not only was the ground shaking, but he was as well. The balrog must have been four times his size, thought Lardo. With him, the balrog carried a fiery mace, which to Lardo, was more frightening than the beast itself.

A few of the dwarves charged the balrog, to Lardo's horror, they were swept away like flies. "Don't attack him," Lardo found himself saying, why, he wasn't quite sure. The remaining dwarves gave Lardo a puzzled look. As the beast came closer, Lardo was thinking his newfound theory through. With a smirk he said, "No, No, don't attack him, yet."

The fiery balrog seemed fixated on Lardo, and Lardo wasn't sure why, until he realized that he was standing a ways away from the rest of the group, and that he was the one holding the torch. "Go, hide in the shadows, he hasn't seen you yet." whispered Lardo. The dwarves complied, though were hesitant to do so.

The balrog was so close to Lardo now that he could heel the heat radiating off its body. To Lardo's surprise, he found himself more fascinated by the creature than afraid of it. That feeling quickly faded once the balrog raised its mace. Lardo was quite confident now that he was more afraid than awe-struck.

The mace crushed the ground only a few feet from Lardo. This quickly jolted his plan back into Lardo's head. Lardo ran behind one of the massive pillars, and despite the urge to run farther, he stopped. The balrog turned, spun his mace a few times, then the creature attempted to strike Lardo, again. The balrog did this without much apparent thinking, for as soon as he did, the mace became entangled around the pillar. "Now!" shouted Lardo, and at their cue, the dwarves charged out of the shadows and attacked the balrog.

Once the balrog had been slain, Lardo knew he had gotten more than his fill of adventure. He said his good-byes, and departed back to his home in The Shire, where he still had some weeds to pull in his garden. "Yes," he whispered to himself, "I'm much happier getting rid of weeds than vile, old balrogs."