A Passage from Middle-earth
Chapter Three: The Good Shepherd
Because the two groups of men, which were led by Faramir and Eomer, had been in such a hurry to ride northward, no one had thought to bring along extra mounts for the Dwarves. Bearing them as a burden would have slowed the riders too much; they were now desperate to cross the north side of Fangorn Forest as quickly as possible. The Ents could easily carry one or two Dwarf passengers without their progress being appreciably impeded, but they were uneasy about the axes with which the Dwarves came equipped. In order to make sure the worrisome weapons remained at rest, the Ents insisted on actually carrying the Dwarves rather than allowing them to simply climb aboard and ride along. This was somewhat demeaning to the potential passengers who had no choice but to agree. For Gimli however it did greatly simplify the use of the Palantir.
Long ago, the Elves of Lothlorien gave Aragorn the name of Elessar, the Elfstone. After he had been crowned as High King of Gondor, he officially adopted that title. And thus did all the inhabitants of his realm know him. But many of those who had previously been his companions, before that regal ascension, continued to call him Aragorn out of habit. He chose to regard it as a term of endearment and elected not to correct them. He thought it wise to occasionally recall his humble beginnings and the times of desperation and sacrifice that had preceded his rise to the position of the most powerful king in all of Middle-earth.
Even though the Dwarves slowed them hardly at all, the Ents were simply unable to keep up with the riders. Nor were Faramir or Eomer about to have the men slow their horses. If they failed to intercept the Balrog before it entered the woods, the ensuing forest fire would effectively curtail any chance of engaging it again until after it had emerged many miles to the south. It was crucial that they hold the monster back until the Ents could arrive.
Whether or not the Shepherds of the Forest would really be able to repel the Fire Demon, or even turn it aside, was a complete unknown. Even the Wizard had seemed tentative about the possibility. And while forcing it to turn east might save the woodland, unless it gave the defenders some kind of tactical advantage, it still would constitute only a marginal victory. What they really needed to do was to drive it westward up into the Misty Mountains and then keep it there until Radagast could arrive with the appropriate armament.
The Ents would tolerate no fire. Nor did they apparently need any other illumination besides starlight by which to navigate. As the riders galloped gallantly ahead, Gimli gazed with envy at the bobbing torchlight disappearing into the distance. But the swiftly surrounding darkness made the soft light, which suddenly swelled within his Seeing Stone, that much more quickly noticeable. He could not help but smile, despite the circumstances, at the familiar face that it framed. It had been barely half an hour since the conversation with Eowyn. But there within the Palantir, once known to him merely as a Ranger of the North, was Elessar, the High King of Gondor.
"Greetings, Lord Gimli!" Elessar exclaimed. "I perceive that you are not in Moria. It looks like starlight in the background, but it moves very strangely."
"My stomach moves strangely as well!" Gimli assured him. "Being carried along by an Ent is a most unsettling experience!"
"Carried by an Ent?" echoed Elessar with deep concern. It was obvious that the High King's insight had been brought to bear as he concluded, "You had to signal Treebeard. That's why the Beacons were lit. Something has happened. What?"
When he noticed that Radagast had joined them, Gimli simply said, "I'll let him explain it."
"I greet you in the name of the Valar, High King Elessar," Radagast began formally. "I bring news of a great evil that has been loosed upon Middle-earth, and counsel regarding its possible remedy."
"And just what remedy would you counsel for those who practice abandonment, you Brown Wizard?" Elessar inquired heavily. "Will you not abandon us as you did the White Council, as you've obviously forsaken the last ship into the West? Or do you perhaps intend to sail with Legolas, somehow knowing that he is even now in Ithilien selecting the timbers?"
"It was for love of Goldberry that I requested my removal from the White Council," Radagast replied. "It was for duplicitous reasons that Saruman approved my request. I'd no way of knowing that."
"Not that it would have mattered, I imagine," Elessar accused, unabated. "But at no point did I allow my love for Arwen to compromise my dedication to the War of the Ring, even when I thought it prudent to encourage her, according to the counsel of Elrond, to escape into the West with the remnant of her people. I thought I was loosing her forever, and as a direct consequence of my commitment. Your love for Goldberry should have empowered you, not misdirected you!"
The reply of Radagast gathered force like a storm cloud, alarming those who were observing the exchange through the Palantir as he said, "As one of the Dunedain, you know something of the passions of the Eldar. Your own wife, Queen Arwen, gave up immortality because of her love for you, being of yet mixed linage herself. Luthien gave up her immortality not to live with but to die with Beren. It was purely a gift of the Valar that they got to enjoy any time together at all, and not something she had ever even anticipated. Melian was a Maia, as am I. For love of Thingol, she left Valinor and came to Middle-earth as the wife of an Elf and not one of the Powers. She was given leave to do so, as I also believed that I had. But I was deceived, and so my marriage was not blessed with children. If she had been so deceived, you would not even be here, Ranger! You judge that which you do not understand! And it is at the great peril of your certain destruction that you reject my counsel! Be ye warned!"
"Perhaps you do have the stomach for a fight after all, Wizard," answered Elessar with a wry smile. "Say on."
Gimli was relieved that the two seemed to have reached a point where they could speak to each other with some semblance of civility. To him, they were the two most powerful people in all of Middle-earth, and he had no idea how they would be able to defeat the Balrog if they could not cooperate. He was also thankful that the Wizard took it upon himself to reveal the part Gimli and the Dwarves had played. He was surprised by the ire of the High King and he definitely did not want to see it directed his way.
"Nargurth, the lieutenant of Gothmog, unfortunately was not slain during the assault of the Valar against Angband as we had hoped," Radagast finally began to explain. "He was apparently trapped in one of the furthest dungeons, very near the tunnels of Moria. The Dwarves were trying to find a way to open a new door in the west side of the Misty Mountains when they broke through into that chamber. It was there that they found Grond, with which they've already armed Treebeard."
"How do you know all this?" asked Elessar suspiciously. "Did Gimli already tell you?"
"The Ring Bearer saw most of these things in a dream," Radagast replied. "He then came to me with Merry and Pippin and their Palantir. The four of us are now headed for Rivendell and the High Pass beyond. Our plan is to come down the Anduin. Our intent is to recover the rest of the Nine Rings of Men from the land of Mordor before Nargurth can get there. I'll need them to make the Weapon with which to defeat him. I saw his mind though the Palantir. He plans to remake the One Ring. I am using the Great Eagles to keep him from taking to the air. But in order to intercept him, the King's Guard and the Rohirrim are now riding west across the north end of Fangorn."
"So your intent is to simply delay him until you and the hobbits can complete your mission?" asked Elessar pointedly.
"Yes," answered the Wizard. "But even if Treebeard is able to effectively wield Grond against him, Nargurth will probably just turn aside and seek another way. Faramir and Eomer do not have the manpower to deter this demon. You must ride northward with the Armies of Gondor as quickly as possible."
"Anduril, the Flame of the West, may yet be used to slay one of Morgoth's minions," Elessar observed in a strangely far-away-sounding voice.
Gimli could see the troubled expression on the face of Radagast in response to the abruptly fey mood of the High King as the Wizard replied, "Mighty you may yet be, even after these many years, King Elessar. But I do not counsel you to put yourself so directly in harm's way. I ask only that you delay Nargurth. Even the mighty Ecthelion perished in the slaying of Gothmog."
"And yet Gothmog was slain," Elessar persisted. "Many may have perished because of your decision to abandon the White Council. And many more may have been slain because I released the Shadow Host too soon and didn't use them to march against the Black Gate. But I will not place my dear friends in danger rather than take the risk myself. Mordor is yet a perilous place."
"I will guarantee their safety," said Radagast firmly.
"Gandalf the Gray couldn't even guarantee the safe passage of the Fellowship through Moria, and Mordor is far more hazardous," argued Elessar.
"And yet they did pass safely through," stated Radagast, contradicting him according to the same tactic the High King himself had used only moments before. "And so shall your friends. The time for you to pass beyond the Walls of the World has not yet come, Elfstone. It is folly for you to rush to meet it. Accept my counsel. Let me take the risk. But do not underestimate the powers of this Fire Demon. For you may suffer the fate of Ecthelion and yet not earn his victory. Let your army be your sword."
"Your actions are not yet proof of your wisdom, Wizard," Elessar countered. "But I'm not rash enough to dismiss one of the Maiar out of hand. I sense some of the spirit of Gandalf in you and none of the deception of Saruman. Indeed, I heard Gandalf speak highly of you even after Lord Elrond had relieved you of your Staff, despite dissuading the Council from attempting to involve you any further since you had so altered your persona. And I understand why your road must now lead through Rivendell; so until I see a failure in your council, I will do as you request. But know this: I have learned from the treachery of Saruman. And I also remember that the Balrogs are themselves of the Maiar, just as even Morgoth was one of the Valar. I'll not trust you blindly. But I will trust you for now."
"I would not ask you to do more, High King Elessar," Radagast replied softly. "And I look forward to earning that which you now freely give. May the Grace of the Valar be upon you and the Light of Earendil illuminate your path."
"And yours as well, Radagast the Brown," Elessar answered.
The face of Radagast faded from the Seeing Stone in Gimli's hands. It was replaced by the concerned countenance of Lady Eowyn. Not wishing to become embroiled in the embittered exchange between the High King and the Wizard, she had elected to do nothing but listen. But she needed to discuss her next course of action with Elessar, so she had no choice but to make her presence known. And although he seemed to have calmed somewhat towards the end of his discussion with Radagast, she still felt as if something were brewing just below the regent's surface. And she hoped the fact that she had once loved him would temper his treatment of her. At the very least, he should appreciate that her willingness to undertake the urgent errand to Halifirien had placed her in her current situation.
"My lord, Aragorn," she hesitantly said. Then, catching herself in the use of that ancient title, she rephrased her salutation, saying, "High King Elessar, it is Eowyn. I'm at Halifirien. I've been advised to travel north with the Army of Gondor, your majesty. What would you have me do?"
"Lady Eowyn," he said gently. His entire demeanor seemed to soften as he smilingly replied, "Your willingness to undertake desperate errands may have provided a critical blow to an enemy once again. And there is also great wisdom in taking you back northward with an escort. My army will not pass very close to your position. The road doesn't lead in the required direction. We'll turn northwestward just above the Druadan Forest and pass through Anorien. The best place to cross the Entwash is as it separates into its fingers and reaches out to the River Anduin. From there, we'll proceed on up through East Emnet and into the Wold. If you ride northeastward in the morning, you should have no trouble intercepting us. And I'll have the scouts keep an eye open for you."
"You have my deepest appreciation, my lord," she gratefully replied.
"Nay, my Lady of Rohan and Steward of Gondor, it is you who have mine," Elessar earnestly answered. He then turned his attention to Gimli, continuing, "I'll be bringing my Seeing Stone with me. I'm expecting you or Faramir to keep me updated as the conflict allows."
"Aye, that I will," Gimli gruffly responded. He then was unable to resist a temptation to inject some levity in the conversation as he concluded, "And I know that springtime in your country is a beautiful thing, but don't dawdle along the way looking at all the flowers; not when you've got my handsome face to look forward to seeing!"
"Right," Elessar agreed, biting his lip.
The faces then faded from the Seeing Stone in Gimli's hands. The Ent, which had elected to bear the Dwarf Lord as its burden, looked kindly upon its worried charge but said nothing. Long ago, the Ents had decided that the words of Wizards and Kings were usually troublesome things, to be entertained only at great hazard and answered as seldom as possible. They had learned to be as silent as the trees over which they had charge. Having overheard the heated portion of the exchange, the Ent was forcefully reminded of the wisdom of the ancient ways of its own kind.
Fortunately, Gimli repacked the Palantir. It had been days since the Dwarves had even rested. The repetitive, swaying motion soon lulled him to sleep. His dreams were a mesh of overlapping images all framed by a Seeing Stone. People from his past and his present seemed to somehow coexist, confabulating within its curious confines. Gandalf, Radagast, Elrond, Galadriel, and even Legolas hobnobbed as if the world were not in danger of burning like a Balrog. The Ring Bearers walked along a shore of sand so white that the light of it nearly blinded his dreaming eyes. And one of his favorite people in the world, the Lady Eowyn, stood arrayed in a wedding gown, but it was not in the hall where her marriage to Faramir had taken place. None of it made any sense at all. And he was glad when the Ent awakened him suddenly.
It was the wee hours of the morning. Darkness hugged the base of the Misty Mountains as if it were an ocean that had been cast against a swiftly rising shore. But a stark interruption became evident in that shoreline's distance where a towering firestorm moved in the night. Its illumination made the other forms around it visible. Shapes descended out of the starlit sky above, seeming to issue forth from the vastness of space itself as they challenged their fiery foe. Mounted horsemen could briefly be glimpsed as they wheeled and rushed back and forth before the incandescence. Their spears and arrows ignited in midair as they streaked, shimmering, towards the undeterred target. And the flash and crack of the Fire Demon's whip could be both seen and heard, as could the glint and swish of the Balrog's blazing blade.
The Men of the West had engaged Nargurth and were trying to keep him from crossing the remaining strip of land that separated the forest. The Ents were taking up positions in between.
Placing Gimli gingerly on the ground, the Ent turned to him and spoke for the very first time, saying, "It must not be allowed to enter Fangorn."
The Dwarf Lord could just discern the mounds of boulders, which the Ents were erecting. He understood that these constituted ammunition. And since the line of such defensive positions was growing eastwards from the base of the mountains, and he was standing along its projected path, he elected to move northwards from that line of skirmish, taking himself closer to the battle. Other Dwarves gathered around him as they saw him moving in the starlit darkness. The faint glow of morning was just beginning to suggest itself in the eastern sky, so there was just enough light for them to organize themselves for combat.
Gimli was uncertain however of how his group could best aid the conflict. Even though they had been able to stay ahead of the Balrog while racing across Khazad Dum, outrunning it on the flat might be an entirely different matter. And they needed to be sure they stayed out of the way of the horsemen and the Ents. Most of his warriors were quite proficient at throwing their axes. But it would be necessary to cover their retreats. And if they used all their weapons as projectiles, they would soon be unarmed. Nor could he coordinate the movements of his troops with the other two commanders since they were already engaged and on horseback.
As best he could, he surveyed their situation. He was forced to come to a conclusion that he knew would be no more popular with his troops than it was with him. To position his foot soldiers north of the line, which the Ents were defending, would make them a liability. The Shepherds of the Trees would eventually begin to launch their barrage. And their lack of maneuverability would cause the Dwarves to be endangered by that assault. They would possibly be an impediment to the horsemen as well, so the only solution was to take up positions behind the Ents. This would appear cowardly, as he was certain that his kin would point out, but it would also make them the last line of defense. That was the redeeming characteristic of such a tactic. For to such a calling he was also sure that his group would very willingly arise.
As much to save face as to prepare for the coming conflict, the Dwarves arrayed themselves in battle formation, falling back to form a defensive line behind the Ents. After scanning the dimly lit darkness for several long minutes, Gimli finally found Treebeard behind the largest and most centrally located stack of stones. The Ent appeared to be hiding. And in truth, as he explained to Gimli, he was. The plan was for the other Ents to fall back to that last mound, leading the Balrog to him. He feared that the reach of the Fire Demon's whip might exceed that of the dreaded war hammer with which he was armed, so he was relying on the element of surprise to ensure that he would strike the first blow. By so doing, he hoped to disarm his opponent.
It suddenly occurred to Gimli that this incredible creature, which had possibly seen more centuries than the Dwarf Lord had decades, was facing what could well be the end of its extremely long life. It was like fighting alongside Elves again. And as he stood there against the backside of the rocky mound, unable to see the approaching enemy's fire because of the fortifications, he was forcefully reminded of the Battle at Helm's Deep.
Gimli stepped around the interposing barrier and was alarmed to see that, despite the best efforts of the King's Guard and the Rohirrim, the advance of the Fire Demon was as unrelenting as had been that of the Uruk-hai. Already, the horsemen were splitting into separate formations, opening a lane through which the Ents could begin to launch their aerial assault. And in response, the Ents were selecting some of the smaller, lighter boulders for their first throws. Because the air was already full of spears and arrows, the Great Eagles had broken off their attack. This allowed the Balrog to venture away from the foothills where the ground forces could more easily engage it. And it also ensured that the coming barrage would not possibly endanger the Lords of the Sky.
The first rays of the morning sun were just touching the tops of the Misty Mountains as the Ents released their first volley. Watching the projectiles arch through the air, Gimli held his breath.
Some of the slung stones totally missed the target, bounced harmlessly with audible thuds, and rolled to rest in the prairie beyond. A few slammed directly into the Fire Demon, sending forth showers of sparks in the early morning mist. Nargurth screamed, whether in pain or outrage, but somehow managed to remain on his flaming feet. The horsemen quickly raced to close the lane, releasing a volley of their own, as the Ents wound up for their next throws.
Looking down the field, the Balrog caught sight of the strangely moving trees and the smaller figures that were also there, just beyond the rock piles. Gimli hoped it was just his imagination, but he was almost certain that the creature's gaze had focused and remained fixed on him for several seconds. He wondered in horror if it was possible that, despite the distance, it actually recognized the leader of the group that had opened its lair and stolen its trophy. It was quite terrifying to think that some kind of personal vendetta might exist in the monster's mind.
As the horsemen swept to the sides, clearing the path to the target once again, the Ents sent forth another salvo. Nargurth was very aware of what was happening. He sprang suddenly to one side and turned sideways, presenting the smallest amount of target area possible. Raising both of his hands to the side of his head, he bowed down and prepared for the impacts. Fewer projectiles found their mark this time. But the collisions were extremely audible, and more showers of sparks erupted from the battered form.
Switching the whip and sword into the same hand, Nargurth suddenly scooped up one of the stones that had fallen closest to him. There was apparently some type of flammable mineral deposit in the vein from which the rock had been removed. It abruptly burst into flame in his conflagrating grasp just before he lobbed it back at the Ents. And the Dwarves soon found it necessary to go on fire patrol, pursuing the pyrogenic parcel into the woodlands behind them and smothering it with their cloaks. No one had anticipated the Fire Demon throwing the boulders back, let alone being able to ignite them beforehand. This was an extremely disturbing development.
Nargurth also seemed to unfortunately understand that as he diminished his range from the defensive line the Ents would be able to use the bigger boulders against him. Consequently, he abandoned his tactic of trying to outmaneuver the horsemen and catch one. He charged the line instead, trying to cross the remaining distance as quickly as possible, minimizing the number of the injurious impacts that he might have to endure.
This possibility had been anticipated. The riders completely withdrew from around the target, and the Ents began to fire at will. So persistently pummeled was Nargurth, as a direct result, that his forward progress was temporarily brought to a halt. As the bigger boulders became the main weapons of the Ents, Gimli began to wonder if it might actually be possible to kill the Balrog in this way. The flaming form was decisively driven to the ground before the aerial avalanche. And it was clear that the huddled hulk was in severe pain.
The Ents however did not have an infinite supply of ammunition. And they were carefully avoiding the use of the pile behind which Treebeard was hiding. They were counting on the Fire Demon's anger; because, once they had to finally interrupt their attack, the Balrog would be able to simply rush by them and into the forest. They wanted him to come after them instead as they retreated toward Treebeard's position. The idea was to make it look as if, at the last moment, they realized that it was not going to be possible to make another stand and therefore chose to abandon that pile. As the Balrog tried to come around it in pursuit, he would finally, and they hoped even fatally, discover what had happened to Grond.
As he watched the immobilized, incandescent enemy writhing before the unabated assault, Gimli experienced, what seemed to him, a very odd emotion. He pitied the Balrog. King Elessar had said that it was a Maia, one of the Maiar, not unlike Gandalf and the Wizards. At some point, it had allied itself with the Dark Power and had then become trapped in the fortress of the Great Enemy when the Powers of the West at last were entreated to come to the aid of Middle-earth.
However, he thought, some decisions have lifelong consequences. After having been freed, there was no recourse for the Fire Demon but to pursue its deadly plan. Even if such had been its intention, the inhabitants of Middle-earth could never have lived in peace with it. Only by gaining mastery over them could it even continue to exist. Having been discovered in its ancient prison, it would have been pursued out of fear into the depths of the earth until it was either destroyed or it overcame the pursuit.
It could not have stayed in Khazad Dum, not anymore than it could now be allowed to return there. His people would never be able to suffer the knowledge of its presence. It would have to be unmistakably and permanently imprisoned before they would feel it was safe to live there. Having once made that fateful decision uncounted ages ago, Nargurth's only choices were to either take a chance that would result in either his dominion or his ultimate destruction or face imprisonment until the very end of the world. Unlike the many other evil things Gimli's axe had helped to send into eternity, the fate of the Balrog had been irreparably sealed long ago. Even stouthearted as was the Dwarf Lord, he could not help but be touched by the sadness of such an inescapable fate.
The showers of sparks, which resulted from the many impacts, had set the grasses around the crumpled form on fire. Smoke was obscuring the target, making it increasingly difficult for the Ents to take aim. Through the billowing haze, Gimli detected a movement. The Balrog had rolled to the side, igniting the incandescent material in some of the rocks around it, making its position very hard to determine. Not all of the blazing boulders behind the smokescreen were a part of its fallen form.
Nargurth suddenly stood. He had placed his weapons between his feet, snatching up one of the larger stones, instead. Using it, he began to deflect the incoming boulders being thrown by the Ents. Since the Shepherds of the Trees were firing at will, rather than according to a pattern, there were occasional interruptions in their barrage. The Balrog took advantage of this, dropping his stone shield and returning fire as opportunity allowed. And he was a distressingly good shot. His technique involved turning suddenly towards his unsuspecting target while he was actually throwing. Several of the Ents were struck in this way. And since some of the projectiles were also ablaze, even the misses constituted a significant danger to the woodlands beyond. The Dwarves quickly found themselves in the position of having to extinguish multiple fires.
But the slugfest could not be sustained indefinitely. And that was a good thing for the Ents, who were beginning to suffer some serious injuries. Their piles of ammunition were very quickly diminishing. Soon, all that was left was the large centrally located stack at the line's southernmost extent. The Ents began to retreat towards it. Seeing this development, the Balrog snatched up its weapons with one hand and ignited a large stone in the other, rushing to intercept them. Although hurt, it was much faster than they had anticipated.
The Ents had failed to consider the possibility of any of their number being injured. And they were spread out too far. The Balrog immediately headed toward the most disabled of the fleeing forms. The first Ent that reached the large pile attempted to make ballistic intercession on behalf of its hindered comrade. But Nargurth had been waiting to use his own projectile on the first Ent to rearm. And the Fire Demon's throw was both faster and more precise. The Ent tried to use its stone as a shield, as the Balrog had done. But the range was too short and the shield rebounded into it, splintering its wood. Nargurth reached the injured Ent before anyone else could respond.
Being seriously smaller than an opponent has never deterred a Dwarf, the most dangerous diminutives ever to walk the earth. A glowering Gimli gazed upon the massacre of the Ent as it was literally hacked to bits before his appalled eyes. Brandishing his axe, he recklessly changed towards the malevolent mountain of fire as it sat astride its helpless victim. The Dwarf Lord would most certainly have been killed in the next few moments, but an irresistible force flung him aside as it swept by. Raising his eyes, he saw Treebeard strike the Balrog with the full force of Grond.
The ability to root himself to the spot gave Treebeard an unusual advantage in wielding the ancient weapon, assisting his normal inertia. He could swing the war hammer much harder than any creature of approximately the same size; although, aside from either a Balrog or another Ent, only an exceptionally large Cave Troll could have possessed such stature. And the Fire Demon was completely unprepared for the blow. As the Shepherd of the Forest completed his homerun swing at the enemy's undefended back, the effect was as spectacular as it was, for the Balrog, catastrophic.
Nargurth was literally knocked into the air. Since he was struck from directly behind, and his sword had been in front of him, it was propelled along with him. His blade stuck in the smoldering earth beside his fallen form. His whip, wrenched out of his hand by the sudden impact, wrapped around him. As a result, neither weapon was lost, as Treebeard had hoped, because of that initial strike. But Nargurth was hurt, of that there was no doubt.
Too late, Gimli's gloved hands reached protectively for his ears in an instinctive response to the deafening crack. He could feel its reverberations in his chest. As he shook his head, trying to recover from the shockwave's impact and regain his auditory ability, he noticed that he could hear a most peculiar sound. It seemed to be issuing from the crumpled form of the Fire Demon towards which Treebeard was very purposefully striding. If a furnace could wheeze, thought Gimli, that is what it might sound like. And he had spent most of his life around one kind of furnace or another. He also observed that it was now smoke, instead of flame, erupting from the fearsome figure. It looked as if the Balrog's fire had all but been extinguished, something the warrior Ent obviously intended to accomplish.
Rolling suddenly to the side at the last possible instant and somehow grabbing his sword in the process, the Balrog barely avoided Treebeard's potentially lethal, overhand blow. Despite the distance, having just regained his feet, Gimli was knocked to the ground again. The tremor rattled the leaves of the trees behind him and swept deep into the forest. Hurriedly standing, Gimli saw a huge depression where the Fire Demon had been lying. The impact stamped out the smoldering grasses where it had first fallen. But it did not arise in attack; it arose in retreat.
Not unexpectedly, the Fire Demon attempted to flee directly eastward since its ultimate goal was to the southeast and its passage south and been blocked. The horsemen rushed to intercept it. But so desperate was the plight of Nargurth that he charged against their spears and arrows, although it seemed that, in his weakened state, he was now more susceptible to injury from such weaponry. The Balrog swatted furiously at the stinging projectiles, which were no longer igniting on impact.
He was not however beyond the range of the Ents. And he quickly saw that the only way to avoid more of the merciless meteoric maelstrom was to keep Treebeard in the line of fire, which meant retreating back to the north. Anticipating that the Balrog would try again to turn eastward as soon as he was far enough away from them, the Ents scooped up as many of the stones as they could carry, from that last pile, and began to pursue. Most of the walking catapults angled towards the Field of Celebrant, to help funnel Nargurth's northward retreat. But some of them followed closely after Treebeard in case the Shepherd of the Forest got into trouble and needed help.
Gimli believed that he could see uncertainty written in fiery lines on the face of the retreating form. Once before, during the confrontation at the Bridge of Khazad Dum, when Gandalf had faced the first Balrog in Moria, he had observed such a doubtful demeanor in one of the dreaded Fire Demons. Glancing back over its shoulders, to avoid stumbling over the many boulders that now dotted the prairie, the Balrog withdrew.
As Treebeard continued his relentless pursuit, Nargurth desperately snapped his whip at the approaching Ent. But he did not try to make a stand. It was obvious that, even if he somehow avoided Grond and could overcome its wielder, being pummeled to death by the other Ents would probably be his reward. Many of the stones from the wild throws and deflections littered the area through which they were passing. At the very least, he would have to wait until there was no longer additional ammunition lying close at hand for the Ents to use against him.
The Dwarf Lord produced the Palantir; anxious to inform anyone available of the advantage they had achieved. Eowyn was apprehensively awaiting any update.
"My lady," said the Dwarf Lord, bowing before the extended artifact, although the movement was mostly lost on the recipient.
"Master Gimli!" she exclaimed as she beheld his beaming countenance in the Seeing Stone. "How goes the battle?"
"We lost one of the Ents," he replied, suddenly recalling that the respite had not been without cost. "But the Balrog is no match for Treebeard and his army. It's retreating northward even now."
"And what about the Steward and my brother?" she pressed.
"They ride well," answered Gimli, shrugging. "As for their marksmanship, who can tell when the target seems made of stone?"
"No!" laughed Eowyn out loud, tickled by his flippancy. "I was wondering if they're alright!"
"Aye, my lady," Gimli replied with a wink. "That they are. And I mean to keep them that way for you, too."
"Well, I'm certainly glad you're on top of things," she said, smiling slyly.
"No short jokes, please," Gimli chuckled. "It's too early in the morning. And speaking of that, where are you?"
"I'm preparing to leave Halifirien," she replied. "I'm riding northeastward to rendezvous with the army of Gondor."
"Have you spoken with Aragorn this morning?" he inquired.
Before she could answer, the image of High King Elessar appeared in the Palantir, asking, "So, the war in the Wold goes well?"
"That's easy for you to say!" a grinning Gimli agreed. "But the enemy's retreat may be short-lived. That beastie is sure to make a stand just as soon as we run low on things to shoot or throw at it."
"I fear it will take me nearly a week to reach you, even riding hard," Elessar replied, "especially if you continue to drive it northward. But I'm only asking you to slow it down. I want no more loss of life, Entish or otherwise. Understood?"
"Of course," the Dwarf Lord said smilingly. "But you've no idea how much trouble I'm having controlling all my troops!"
"Your troops?" Elessar laughingly exclaimed.
"Yes," said Gimli with feigned severity. "These Ents and those horsemen seem to have their own ideas about how to wage this campaign. But I'll do my best to rein them in for you."
Elessar had to fight hard to keep a straight face as he replied. "I have complete confidence in your abilities, Master Dwarf."
"After our long association together," Gimli stoically concluded, "I should certainly think so."
Those antics, which had become associated with their long affiliation, often amused Elessar. But he had a long, hard journey ahead of him. And it would precede what he suspected of being an appointment with destiny, a chance to truly vanquish an evil of the kind that his ancestor Isildur had failed to finally defeat. It was a desperate chance to outmaneuver one of the Istari and prove that the descendants of Numenor no longer needed the protection of the Powers of the West, so he was relieved to finally bring the comical part of the conversation to an end as he turned to Eowyn.
"We shall be fully mustered within the hour," he informed her. "The Tower Guards have been sounding the assembly since dawn. Then the Armies of Minas Tirith, Minas Ithil, and Osgiliath will march immediately northward. You should start out. If you'd like, I could instruct the Watchers on Halifirien to accompany you. But I've seen you on Arabel; I know they could never keep up. And nothing will trouble you within the borders of my country anyway, as if anything but the wind could even catch you."
"Thank you, my Lord Elessar," she replied with her gentle smile, hiding her growing concern for his increasingly strange mood. "We will start out now for the fingers of the Entwash. But I have learned on this journey that Arabel outruns even the wind."
"I doubt it not, my Lady of Rohan," he replied with a chuckle, momentarily sounding more like his old self. "I look forward to our meeting. The scouts will be watching for you."
"Aragorn," she said hesitantly, several moments after his image had faded from the Palantir. When he failed to respond, she said, "Gimli, I'm very concerned about him. I didn't understand it when he blew up at Radagast. And his attitude of late is not a thing I comprehend. Strange as it may sound to say, I'm not even sure his odd behavior began with the unleashing of this Balrog. I think it goes much further back, but to where I cannot say. And I've noticed other inconsistencies. As the wife of the Steward, I've now studied the lore of Gondor extensively. I've discovered that Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Moon, was the original name of what later became Minas Morgul. Aragorn restored its designation after it had been reclaimed for Gondor, having already taken the Elven name of Elessar for himself. But Minas Tirith was also once called Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun. That name he did not restore. It's almost as if there are some things that he struggles to recall and others he struggles to forget. I fear that he is driven by some desperation we have yet to understand. And it worries me."
"Aye, the High King is an odd mix of a man," he somberly agreed. "In fact, more so now after years of prosperity than ever before. And that shouldn't be so. I've noticed myself that something seems to be eating at him, but I've no idea what it is. We should all watch him carefully and make sure he doesn't do anything rash. I'll ask Faramir and Eomer to help when I talk to them. After all, I still have to relay the High King's orders to my troops!"
"Thank you, Gimli," Eowyn gratefully replied, smiling broadly. "I feel better already."
"And hearing that, so do I," the Dwarf Lord responded with a wink. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and supervise these military maneuvers. Good day, my Lady of Rohan."
"Good day, General Gimli," answered Eowyn with an impish smile, unable to resist the jest of playing along.
Gimli had been carefully threading his way through the rocky remainder of the earlier battle. He was practically laughing out loud at the teasing way Lady Eowyn had ended the conversation. As he raised his eyes however he was quite disheartened by what he saw. He and his Dwarves, who were bringing up the rear of the forward-moving formation, had passed completely out of the debris field. The additional ammunition was, of necessity, being left behind. The Ents were quite some distance further ahead and would now be unable to rearm once they cast the stones that they had brought along. Not surprisingly, Nargurth took the opportunity to test their defenses.
The Rohirrim were flanking the east side of the Balrog's northward retreat, to keep him from possibly trying to turn that way. Many of the Ents were also moving through the area just west of the Field of Celebrant; although, thought the Dwarf Lord, it must have seemed strange to them to be herding a firestorm instead of a forest. And though the Dwarves were following directly behind Treebeard, since Grond represented the greatest threat to the enemy, most of the Ents were now strewn out in a semicircle with only a few of them to the west of that ancient weapon's advancing position.
They knew that the Fire Demon might try to double back at any moment, but they were really only prepared to prevent him from going south or east. Consequently, the southwestern portion of their defensive perimeter was thin. Realizing that if he could punch through or sweep around the end of the line he could get behind Treebeard and race for an undefended Fangorn; this is where Nargurth chose to strike.
The Balrog had been backpedaling before the approaching Ent with the intimidating, ancient armament. The distance between Treebeard and his flaming foe had been gradually decreasing, but no one realized that Nargurth was intentionally allowing this. The Shepherd of the Forest was occasionally brought to a halt by the fiery whip, intermittently flicking at his face. During one such stop, the Fire Demon suddenly sprinted to his right, angling southwestward. He was on a course toward the place where the north end of Fangorn Forest met the Misty Mountains. And there were only a few Ents that stood in his path.
Muttering expletives in Old Entish, Treebeard realized that he had been outmaneuvered. He moved to intercept but could not react quickly enough. The Balrog succeeded in slipping around him. Seeing their plight, the endangered Ents stood their ground and waited to sling their salvos at close range. The Rohirrim rushed to respond. The Dwarves also moved to aid them, their axes glinting in the morning sun as they ran towards the fiery, fleet-footed foe. Considering the extent of the injuries their forces had seemingly inflicted on the Fire Demon, his speed was surprising.
There were Six Great Battles in Middle-earth that finally resulted in the overthrow of Melkor. The first of these is not named by the Elves, though Thingol it was who finally secured a type of victory. The second, they call Dagor-nuin-Giliath, the Battle-under-Stars. It was not long after the coming of Feanor to Middle-earth. The third, they call Dagor Aglareb, the Glorious Battle. And the fourth was Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame. The fifth one was Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Tears Unnumbered. The final battle, when the Valar vanquished Melkor, they call the War of Wrath.
In many of these encounters, the prowess of the Balrogs was tested against the Elves. And in some, even the might of men entered into the equation, although the Fire Demons held that to be of little account. There were times when the Elves proved themselves to be mightier than the servants of Melkor, whom they call Morgoth if they name him at all. For Ecthelion slew Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs, during the Fall of Gondolin. And Earendil killed Ancalagon the Black, the mightiest of the Dragons, during the War of Wrath. But the Dwarves are another matter.
The Naugrim, which is the Sindarin name for the Dwarves, are not of the Children of Iluvatar; which are the Firstborn, the Elves, and the Followers, Men. The Seven Fathers of the Dwarves were actually created by Aule, one of the Valar. He earnestly wanted someone to whom he could teach his craft and lore. And he grew impatient waiting for the coming of the Children of Iluvatar, so he fashioned the Dwarves in secret. But Iluvatar knew what Aule had done. And although He would not allow them to be destroyed, He could not suffer them to precede the Firstborn. They were therefore put to sleep until after the Children of Iluvatar had awakened.
In many ways, consequently, the Dwarves are unlike the other races of Middle-earth. Sauron discovered this when he tried to ensnare them with the Seven Dwarf Rings. They proved difficult for him to master, highly resistant to his control. He could not understand them, nor could he turn them to evil. He could only encourage their greed for the getting of gold and so troubled them.
Aside from this attempt to enslave them, the prowess of the Dwarves against the servants of Morgoth had never really been put fully to the test before. Nargurth was painfully aware of this as he observed the hollering hoard that hurried to harry him. Seemingly tireless, this same band had run before him for days in the darkness of Moria. Now, despite his uncontested butchery of one of the ostensibly indomitable Ents, they seemed to think that it was he whom they would succeed in felling with their annoying axes. He was uncertain of just how seriously to take their threat. But it seemed preferable to turn briefly aside and extinguish their insult rather than rush into the range of the remaining Ents. And it also seemed sensible to assume that the Shepherds of the Forest would hold their fire if he were in close proximity to their friends.
As the Balrog angled to intercept them, Gimli had his group hold their positions and prepare to throw. Each of his warriors was equipped with two axes. One was a smaller throwing axe. The other was a battleaxe. He instructed them to wait for his signal and then throw the smaller ones in unison. They were then to separate as they deployed their main weapons. He hoped that by so doing they would create an opportunity for inflicting the most amount of damage to the opponent, perhaps even holding him up until the line could reform and repel him. Needless to say, Gimli fully expected that he and his companions would not survive the encounter.
Knowing little of the Dwarves and their industry, Nargurth did not comprehend the reason for their presence in Moria. If he had, he might have reconsidered his decision to race headlong into them and their weapons. Their axes were of the newest generation, having been reinforced and edged with Mithril. The blades actually stuck in Nargurth, bringing him suddenly to a screaming stop.
Fire erupted from the places where he had been impaled as the Balrog reeled unexpectedly backwards. Blinded by pain, he frantically slashed the air in front of him with his blazing sword to deflect any further attacks. The whip-bearing hand moved up and down his flaming form, fumbling as it attempted to delicately dislodge the unexpectedly inserted implements. Heat waves from his shuddering, blast-furnace breath made the agonized image distort before them as the Dwarves brandished their battleaxes and began to move left and right around their injured opponent.
Despite their demonstrated ability to do him great harm, Nargurth would probably have killed them in a rage, suffering that further damage in order to see them kindle. But the precious time he lost, extracting their axes, allowed the Rohirrim to respond. They had circled around southward to come in from behind the defending Dwarves. As the Balrog wheeled, alerted to their approach by the sound of their thunder, he discovered that Treebeard was nearly on top of him. He turned and bolted northwestward, literally running for his life.
His eyes gleaming as Gimli gazed upon the blades of the reinforced weapons; he recalled the criticism that had been aimed at him by another master craftsman, as he mockingly muttered, "A waste of material indeed? If you ask me, I'd say it could hardly have been put to a better use!"
King Eomer rode up as the Dwarves were collecting their throwing axes. The noonday sun revealed the unusual silver gleam in the edges of the weapons. With a knowing smile and nod, he spoke to the Dwarf Lord.
"It seems your ancient war hammer isn't the only weapon on this battlefield for the Balrog to fear," he observed. "Did you know it would be so or is there some other wisdom at work here?"
"Wisdom and craft are often smelted together, when they come from one such as Aule, and only separated when they're finally applied," the Dwarf Lord replied, referring to the source of the knowledge by which the armaments had been forged. It was a highly intuitive question that the King had put to him. But seeing the lack of understanding in Eomer's eyes, in response to his answer, he changed the subject, saying, "High King Elessar has given me strict instructions that there is to be no more loss of life on this battlefield."
Eomer laughed as he answered, "I'm not the one who ordered his troops to go up against a Fire Demon with nothing but handheld weapons, wonderfully wrought though they may be! A little more care in how we engage this monster will doubtlessly satisfy the High King's command! But I wonder, Master Dwarf, did he give any indication of where we should be driving this adversary? We seem to have put it on a course back towards Moria. And we surely cannot allow it to escape into the same pit from whence it emerged only to trouble us another day."
The Dwarf Lord and the King of Rohan had gotten off to a rocky start initially, but then they became friends on the battlefield. Such taunting banter intentionally made light of the uneasiness with which their association had begun. And Gimli was about to rise to the occasion in response. But Eomer's observation suddenly alerted him to another potential danger.
"No, it cannot be allowed to reenter Moria!" he heartily agreed. "But it also cannot be allowed to stay on its present course! When the Fire Demon fled southward, before the Great Eagles, my people remained it the Dimril Dale. Hundreds of families will be trapped if it continues northwest!"
"We could try to drive it directly westward and up into the mountains," suggested Eomer.
"From there," objected Gimli, "its movements would be impossible to control. It could just use the mountains to go south, and your horsemen would probably be unable to pursue. It would give the Ents access to lots of boulders, but I'm not sure how maneuverable they would be in that terrain. We could end up losing more of them. When it engaged us in the plain, it was only thinking about moving south and east. It didn't know about Treebeard and Grond or about our axes. Now that it does, it might elect to simply enter Fangorn from the mountains. Even the Great Eagles probably couldn't track it through the middle of a forest fire. We might end up only giving it safe passage to the Gap of Rohan."
"What then?" asked Eomer, raising his empty hand and shrugging his shoulders.
As Gimli gazed northeastwards at the long shadow on the horizon, Eomer could not help but notice the deep sadness in his tone of voice as the Dwarf Lord hesitantly replied, "What a terrible fate that such a choice should be forced upon us. Long has my heart yearned to return and visit those woods, even though she left there long ago; but my duties as the Lord of Khazad Dum kept me far too busy. And now, there may never again be such an opportunity. This Balrog of Morgoth will most assuredly reduce that enchanted forest to ash. And all trace of her presence will be lost. You must give the order. I cannot."
Eomer had no idea what had so deeply affected his friend. He had never seen Gimli so close to tears, not even on the battlefield. He knew of the woodland that lay beyond the northern border of his kingdom. Most considered the River Limlight as that boundary, although a few of his most ambitious ancestors had apparently considered the territory all the way to the River Nimrodel as being annexed. But he had never been that presumptuous, because the River Nimrodel actually passed directly through a forest. And for a period of time that extended beyond the traditions of Rohan, those woods had been the abode of a mighty Elf queen. His people knew it as Dwimordene. But some, who had actually engaged in dealings with those Elves, often referred to it as Lothlorien.
"The Balrog is very grievously injured, perhaps it will not even make it that far," Eomer gently replied. "If Treebeard can catch up with him, we could finish this thing today. We must steer this monster away from Moria anyway. And I doubt that the Shepherd of the Forest will defend Lorien with any less diligence that he did Fangorn. Take heart, Master Dwarf, any number of unforeseen things may befall before we would be forced to allow this Balrog to escape into any woodland."
"Aye," Gimli agreed. "That they may. But we cannot box it in on an open plain. So unless we can succeed in killing it, it's got to go somewhere. And our choices are very limited, none of them good."
"Then perhaps we should concentrate on killing it," Eomer suggested. He then added, with a smirk, "If we can do that without disobeying the wishes of the High King!"
When he saw that he had succeeded in getting the Dwarf Lord to laugh, Eomer continued, "I think it would be best if your troops mounted up with some of our riders. You'll never get ahead of the Balrog on foot, and we may need your magical blades in order to make it turn. We should also ride by Treebeard and let him know the direction we're going to try to force it to take. He might be able to intercept and dispatch this Fire Demon if he knew how to cut it off."
"Cut it off and then cut it up!" Gimli concluded. "Sounds like a good plan to me!"
The Dwarves were soon mounted with some of the Rohirrim. Gimli of course rode with the King of Rohan. Faramir and the King's Guard were near at hand and were quickly brought up to date on the new plan. The Steward easily agreed with the strategy, having already concluded that driving the monster into the mountains could well be a big mistake. If it went southward, as they expected, but bypassed Fangorn Forest, it would find the Tower of Isengard virtually undefended. And if it could gain access to and take refuge in that fortress, they might never be rid of it.
Nargurth was obviously running as fast as his injuries would allow. And the Ent-strides of his pursuer were not making it possible for Treebeard to overtake him. Strangely, their best speeds now appeared to be evenly matched. Had it not been for the fact that he was carrying Grond, perhaps Treebeard could have won the contest; but that would have been suicide. And Eomer found that it was much harder to approach the bounding form than he had anticipated. Impact tremors made the ground an imprecise target for his mount as they neared the hindmost of the competing colossuses. Afternoon was wearing into evening before they finally overtook him.
"Treebeard!" Eomer shouted from the back of his rushing steed. "We must keep it from going back into Moria or up into the mountains! We're going to try to make it turn northeast! If you start angling that way, you may be able to intersect it! We need to bring it down before it can reach the woods of Lothlorien!"
"Lothlorien?" asked the Ent in reply, bellowing in outrage. "Have we turned it back from its course into Fangorn only to have it burn another forest? Why can't we just herd it eastward?"
Faramir had also ridden up alongside of the hastening herdsman, and fielded the question, shouting, "It's trying to go east! We can't let it do that! If it crosses the Anduin, it may be able to slip around the Army of Gondor! We would have no tactical advantage in the Brown Lands! And once it reached Emyn Muil, we would probably have to break off pursuit! I'm afraid that herding it towards Lothlorien is the only way! But we must try to stop it before it gets there!"
Treebeard abruptly changed course and angled northeastwards. The horses, responding to the unexpected motion, nearly threw the nearby riders. And the restraining arm of Eomer was the only thing that kept Gimli from taking a tumble. At their speed, such a fall could easily have been fatal. But the King of Rohan masterfully steadied his mount, making it accelerate to pass around the northwest side of the fleeing firestorm ahead. Gimli and his gang readied their weapons.
As the Balrog was bypassed, he discerned what was happening and initially tried to angle towards those who were overtaking him. The first few axe throws, enhanced with additional arrow strikes, quickly dissuaded him. Nargurth rapidly recalculated his course, turning in the intended direction. Treebeard detected the hitch in his enemy's gate as the Fire Demon realized the Ent was on an intercepting course and knew that the defenders were trying to force a confrontation.
The Balrog switched the whip into his right hand, the hand that would be nearest his enemy. It forced Treebeard to consider how best to engage his adversary. And he suddenly realized that it would be nearly impossible to swing his formidable weapon while racing at a dead run.
When he wielded Grond before, the Shepherd of the Forest had enjoyed the element of surprise. And he had also been afforded the time to root himself to the spot before delivering the blow. Swinging the war hammer while running was going to throw him helplessly off balance. He really needed Nargurth to simply stand and fight, even if the reach of the whip proved to be the deciding factor. But the conflagrating contestant was not so condescending. Understanding how disadvantaged was his opponent, he used flicks of his whip to force the Ent into a nearly parallel course. Nargurth forced them to stay on that track as the woods drew slowly but inevitably nearer.
Gimli considered using additional axe strikes to force the Balrog within range of Treebeard's weapon. But they could possibly send the Fire Demon barreling into him before the Ent could respond. And there was also the chance of deflections endangering their champion. Axe strikes were sure to be at least as debilitating to Treebeard as they were to Nargurth. There simply was no way to force another skirmish in time to prevent it; Nargurth reached the woods of Lothlorien.
The pursuit drew up short as the Balrog passed between the outlying trees. A fiery trail now stretched all the way across the grasslands and into the quickly kindling forest. Falling back from the increasing inferno, the countenance of the defenders fell. Riding up with King Eomer and the Rohirrim, Gimli dismounted and moved to stand beside the angst-ridden Ent.
"I would have died defending these trees," Treebeard sorrowfully said.
To his surprise; the diminutive, axe-bearing figure at his side softly replied, "Aye, so would I."
