Chapter Eight

In two days, Anariel traversed the Caradhras pass without much difficulty. She had been correct in assuming that the Redhorn would not dare impede her if it was only her. With her progress, she knew she would be ahead of the Fellowship by a day at least. Knowing that, she took her time down the Dimrill Stair to the Mirrormere. She decided not to wait there, but near the entrance itself, so she went past Durin's Stone to hide in the rocks outside the gaping hole in the mountainside that was the entrance.

A day later, eight people hurried out of the eastern entrance of Moria. Once they were in the open air, most of them collapsed in sorrow. Out of all of them, Aragorn was the least overcome by emotion. However, as he wiped his sword clean, he heard a voice.

"Aragorn, where is he? Where is Olorin?" Anariel's voice asked suddenly. Aragorn quickly looked around. It seemed as though no one else had heard her.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter. Where is he?" she demanded. Her voice was frantic.

"He fell from the bridge. The balrog pulled him," he said both sadly and wearily.

"Do not look for me. Get to Lothlorien as fast as you can," she said hurriedly. Her voice was more distant.

Aragorn bowed his head in sorrow for a moment before re-sheathing his sword. He then turned back to the rest and did as she told: he got them moving.

oooooooooooo

Gandalf followed the balrog up the stairs. His only thought was that he must kill it. He could tell that they were nearing the top. Soon, they would be in open air and able to fight again.

Finally, he came to the top and stepped out onto the peak of the mountain. What he saw there stopped him in his tracks. A familiar, purple cloaked figure stood in front of the balrog, ready to face off against it.

The balrog let out a monstrous roar and charged forward with its sword raised. Just as the sword was about to slice through Anariel, she dodged back. The sword sliced into the mountainside and embedded itself immovably within it.

The balrog wasted no time attempting to tug the sword out. Instead, it raised the whip of flame high over its head. Like lightning, the whip came down toward Anariel. Once again, she jumped out of the way just in time.

It was then that Gandalf realized what Anariel was doing. She was distracting it so that he could attack. Quickly, he raised Glamdring, his sword of Gondolin, over his head and brought it down at the base of the balrog's tail. The balrog roared in pain, but could do nothing to stop it. In two more strikes, the tail fell away from the rest of the body over the side of the mountain.

Only now did Anariel throw aside her cloak and draw her sword. She held her long, elegant, gleaming white blade in the air above her head and cried, "Hear me, you monster, you cannot escape the wrath of the Valar!"

The balrog screamed in rage and charged at her. It cracked its whip at her, attempting to trap her with it, but she wrapped it around her blade as quickly as lightning and, in one tremendous yank, pulled it out of his hands where it fell over the side of the mountain, following its tail.

This did not stop the balrog. It brought its fiery sword down onto hers with enough force to push her back. By the time she had recovered, it had struck at Gandalf as well, propelling him into a similar situation.

Once more, Anariel stepped forward, but this time Gandalf stepped forward beside her not as the wandering wizard, but as Olorin. As one they raised their swords overhead and attacked the balrog head on, meeting it blow for blow.

At times, they gained ground, while at others they lost it, but still they battled onward, never halting. None of them would give up until the other side was dead. The battled continued for two days and well into the second night.

Finally, the balrog dealt Olorin a fatal blow. Anariel did not look back at him. She could not afford to, for the balrog attacked with renewed vigour. However, she could clearly hear his words as he spoke softly, "You must...become Ilmare...once...more..." And he died.

"NO!" she yelled, beginning to attack the balrog furiously. She dealt it blow after blow until finally, she pierced its chest. The balrog let out a scream of pain before it fell, shaking the very mountain upon which they stood.

Exhausted, Ilmare dropped her sword and hurried to Olorin's side. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't breathing. Helplessly, she began to sob as she bent over his body, resting her head on his chest. She cried through the next day, unable to in any way control her sorrow. The following night she fell asleep, succumbing to exhaustion.