4

I faced the entrance and readied my axe, feeling the sweat begin to ooze under my helmet again. Here, crouching within what protection Mahal offered-- imagined or real-- I could forget the Demon I faced, put off the ultimate confrontation. To leave the Temple I would be returning to my enemy, returning to my fear: before I had either not known the magnitude of the horror facing me or had no choice. Yet now... I could take the tunnels, return to my people and flee Khazad-Dûm. Father could not be avenged by me.

My inner turmoil did not last long, however. My people would be served far better by the destruction of this creature than by a cowardly king, and I had already instructed them to flee if I did not return. They didn't need me there, and my father didn't need me there-- here was my duty. I stepped from the Temple.

Now I faced an odd problem: how to attract attention without appearing to wish to do so. The Demon-glow reached feebly for the ceiling a few hundred yards down to the right, and I decided on an attack followed by a run back to the Temple. But not too obvious; I crept down the street, hiding in the shadows and darting across the open spaces when I had to. I peered around the corner by the glow and found my foe with its entire body pressed against the ground, trying to detect me, hoping to succeed with physical means where spiritual had failed.

And yet it had not noticed me. I could finish it here, now, without destroying the Temple. I shifted my grip and prepared for a dash up to the Demon, a deadly blow to the head. Once again, I stood before a line of no return, and once again, I crossed it decisively.

I ran forward, axe trailing to my right in preparation for a powerful swing. Yet I was barely a yard from its body when the hallucination vanished, and I skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty courtyard.

The Balrog had me in its own trap. But before springing, it had other plans; an attack long prepared and planned burst upon my mental defenses, shattering them in a tempest of Power and fury. I lost my grip on reality entirely and fell to the ground.

[So easy. Why do you even try? Why not surrender?] The voice overwhelmed me so completely it seemed the only existence I had ever known, all it spoke the only reason in the world. The blasted remnants of my spirit found itself agreeing with the Demon's command to lift myself, to follow the call to its source far beyond the circles of this world, to prostrate myself before my Lord enthroned upon a mighty seat. Yet it was not the Balrog I faced, but a form far greater and darker. Of human shape it seemed, yet of a size unknown in legend or nightmare; Power, majesty, and horror radiated from it as from a Sun descended here to Earth. Upon the mighty head sat a high crown of iron, in the hand as a scepter rested a hammer of terror. The eyes of flame lifted and searched my face; I shut my own eyes and turned away, shrank into a helpless ball, left naked and defenseless before Morgoth.

For so it was. Lord of the Darkness, mightiest among the Ainur before his fall, spirit of majesty beyond the thought of Man or Dwarf, and he laughed to see me there. Helpless, I felt myself turned to face him, and he smiled to see me. Then he spoke, and the shadows themselves quailed to hear his voice. I can repeat no word that proceeded from his mouth, for the horror overcame my spirit leaving me witless and mad: all I can recall is a dark power in every syllable that crushed my every attempt at resistance.

And yet-- the words suddenly ceased, the kingly brow furrowed, and Morgoth rose from his throne. Something appeared in his face, almost akin to fear, and the vision shattered.

I was flat on my back, spread-eagled with the Balrog approaching. Somehow my mind was healed, my spirit returned to its place, and my axe back in my hands. I felt the touch of the Maker brush against me, and once again I whispered thanks to Mahal as I heaved myself to my feet. The Demon sent another sortie against my mental defenses, but now I could feel those defenses stronger than anything I could have erected. The attack failed miserably, and my foe's anger reached new heights: it now wished only for death, for the destruction of this miserable worm who dared to successfully resist.

I looked down the road to see it preparing its bow of fire again, and I ran for cover. Not fast enough; at the last moment I threw myself forward face-first, and felt the unmatched exhilaration of feeling an arrow pass a finger's breadth overhead. I managed to hit with my shoulder and continued the roll for nearly 10 feet before coming to my feet; I came up with my bearings intact and spun towards the Balrog.

It left me no time, that was sure-- it took another one of its flying leaps onto a building, forcing me to abandon the courtyard or be shot down. I fled to my right, hoping to work my way back toward the Temple, but suddenly I had the unenviable experience of having a Balrog land on the rooftop just above me.

It hit the roof surprisingly gracefully, for a creature its size-- one massive hand curled over the edge, the other raising a whip. My brain took a precious moment to register the new weapon, then the Demon lashed the whip out at me; instinct threw my arm before my face, and the whip curled around my armored wrist. It immediately scalded, the supernatural heat turning the metal into a miniature oven. Then the Demon jerked back on the whip.

Somehow I kept one hand tight on my axe. The Balrog failed to lift me all the way back to itself; the whip unraveled before then, and I smashed into the side of the building with a metallic thud and a bruised curse.

I fell a good 10 feet to the ground and landed hard on my back. The beast stared right down at me, that diabolical grin playing across its face, and raised its other hand. I sucked in a hard-won breath and rolled over and up, then ran-- back towards the Temple again.

As I ran I felt another mindspeech attack, a frustrated one this time. Then the whip caught me around my middle, but I was ready for it-- the moment it caught me, I struck it with my axe, holding the handle just below the head. The enchanted edge struck the fiery strand, and with an explosive sound as of a taut rope snapping in two, the whip parted; the portion wrapped around me vanished in thick gray smoke, and I heard an annoyed Demon growl from behind me. At the end of this road loomed one of the Temple's attendant buildings, and I reached its edge before the Demon could catch me again.

Up to the side of the building, quick turn to the right, run along its edge, faster-- its got the bow out again! I flung myself forward again, but this time there was no arrow to smash into the building's side. Instead, even as I scrambled to my feet, I felt a smug mindspeech attempt and the light vanished.

I jerked to a stop. Somewhere not a hundred paces behind me, my foe had somehow ceased to burn. A sound almost like a laugh, as I imagined boulders might chuckle, and I knew the Balrog had deliberately undone its fire. Doubtless it could still see me, with senses other than sight, but I was essentially blind.

I could not stand still, then. With my hand out before my face, I began to run again. A moment later, I discovered I'd become slightly disoriented when I ran right into the building; I managed not to tumble to the ground and instead ran along next to the wall, my hand sliding down it.

Behind me I heard a single deep thrummm, then silence. Or was that from in front of me? Above me? I kept running-- I had no choice.

My eyes were becoming adjusted: I could make out the shapes of the buildings, and thought I would be able to see movement. But I did not see the Balrog, not until it was too late. The wall of the building I was following exploded outward without the slightest warning, and one head-sized chunk caught my helmet a glancing blow.

I stumbled and fell. Turning myself over onto my back, I could barely see an enormous hand, fire glowing just below the skin, reaching out for me. I scrambled for my axe, almost lost in the fall, and lashed out at the index finger.

The finger was farther than it looked-- my eyes were cheated by the darkness and the incredible size of my foe. The blow meant to chop the finger in half merely nicked it, but elicited a bellow nonetheless. I rolled aside and half-crawled, half-ran away, hoping I had turned towards the Temple.

I whispered out a quick prayer to Mahal for guidance and ducked into a doorway. Looking back, I saw no movement, and could guess at where the hole might be: a darker splash amidst the all-surrounding blackness. But the Balrog had vanished as surely as if it had been only a figment of my imagination. I spent a moment recovering my bearings and, realizing I had gotten myself turned around, set off past the hole and onwards, keeping against the wall.

Once again I heard one deep thrummm, still impossible to locate-- I swallowed my fear and continued. I rounded the corner and made out the Temple two hundred feet down the road from me.

I peered through the darkness around me, listened for the smallest shifting of smoldering limbs, but the Demon was hiding far too well; it must be a fair distance away. So I decided to risk a flat-out run... I took several deep breaths and prepared for one last dash. If this worked the battle would be all but over.

I took off, feet thudding carelessly against the stone. 150 feet away, 100 feet, 50 feet and my plan shattered.

A street's distance away to my right a shape burst up from behind the buildings, a huge form rising up to an unmeasurable size. I focused on running but with three enormous strides the Demon blocked my path. The mindspeech hit me with a feeling of exultation, and I skidded to a halt not 20 feet away from my enemy.

It stood before me, finally drawn up to its full height, wings spread wide enough to shadow the whole road. The entire body seemed to be a dark glass with a seething fire within, but that lasted only a moment and the flame burst forth again. I was almost blinded by the sudden light, but threw myself to one side and scrambled to the scant shelter of the buildings. The Demon drew out its sword and advanced on me; I blinked, clambered to my feet, and readied my axe.

The Balrog regarded me for a moment, holding its sword ready to strike. I gauged the distance to the Temple's entrance, wondered how fast I could run, and quickly discarded that idea. Instead I backed up, one hand feeling behind me for an alleyway, eyes fixed on my foe. But it did not seem to want to attack; rather, after a moment, it squeezed its hand and the sword shrunk into itself and vanished. Then it held out one hand towards me.

Confused, I continued retreating-- what was the Demon doing? I felt the Power flowing inwards to that clenched hand, though, like a breeze blowing through my spirit, and in a flash of terror I realized what it was about to do.

I turned and ran, turning down the first crooked little passageway I found. The feeling of Power flowing over me stopped, and then everything went crazy.