The cavern, a subterranean sanctuary untouched by the outside world, was a place of serene beauty. Stalactites, like frozen tears, hung from the ceiling, casting intricate shadows on the smooth, polished floor. The walls, adorned with shimmering crystals, seemed to glow with an ethereal light. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers, a strange and unexpected fragrance this deep below the surface.
In the heart of this cavern, a small clearing had been created. A tiny round table, crafted from polished obsidian, stood at its center, adorned with a delicate white tablecloth. Beside it, a low, cushioned seat, woven from the softest silk, invited relaxation. A collection of porcelain teacups and saucers, each one unique and exquisite, was arranged in perfect order around the table's perimeter.
It was here, in this unlikely setting, that the Balrog of Moria held court. His monstrous form, a stark contrast to the scene before him, seemed almost out of place. Yet, as he moved about the space, his movements were surprisingly gentle and deliberate.
The balrog stretched his long, gnarled fingers, reaching for the teapot on the table before him. He poured a steaming liquid into a tiny, delicate cup, then carefully raised it to his lips. The warmth spread through his body, a comforting sensation.
His stuffed bunny, soft and fluffy, sat beside him on a plush velvet pillow. Its beady eyes seemed to watch him with a knowing gaze. He stroked the bunny's fur, a gentle, soothing motion.
Several other stuffed toys were seated around the table on pillows of their own: a teddy bear, a rag doll, and a small, iridescent dragon. The balrog picked up the dragon and held it close, its scales rough against his fingers. He imagined the dragon breathing fire, a fierce and powerful creature.
The balrog set the dragon down and turned his attention to the teddy bear. He poured a small amount of a golden liquid into the bear's tiny teacup. The bear's eyes seemed to sparkle as the balrog added a dollop of honey. He stirred the mixture with a tiny silver spoon, watching as the honey dissolved.
Next, the Balrog poured the tea into the bunny's cup, his movements precise and measured. With a careful hand, he adjusted the cup slightly, ensuring the handle was in easy reach of his guest. Being a bunny, she had short arms, you see.
He then turned his attention to the rag doll. She sat there, with worn button eyes, staring at him expectantly. He knew she so looked forward to these weekly tea parties. He went to fill her cup, his movements as gentle as before. Mesmerized, he watched as the liquid flowed smoothly from the spout of the teapot, a waterfall of hot tea slowly making its way into the beautiful little cup, which was adorned with hand-painted bluebells. The simple act of pouring filled him with such peace.
Finally, he poured the last of the tea into the dragon's cup. Before doing so, he added a small amount of amber liquid, a sweet nectar that he had discovered deep within the caverns. A soothing balm for fiery dragon tummy.
Setting the teapot down, he inspected each cup, ensuring that the tea level was perfect. Then he sat back and watched his little stuffed friends, imagining that they were enjoying their tea. A sense of contentment washed over him.
The balrog frowned. Something was wrong. But what could it be... The biscuits! He saw they were not yet on the table. Glancing around for the biscuit tray, a faint sound caught his attention. It was quite distant but, to his ears, at least, quite distinct. The clanging of metal. The muffle of footsteps on old stone. His anger flared. Intruders!
With a growl that shook the walls, the Balrog stood and rose to his full height, filling the chamber with an ominous shadow. He snatched up his whip, a weapon of vengeful fire, and strode towards the chamber entrance, his footsteps echoing like thunder. Giving a final look back at his interrupted tea party, his fist tightened on his whip and he strode out, violence on his mind, as he sought out those who would dare to invade his sanctuary.
The chamber was silent once again, filled now only with the stuffed animals, who sat there motionless, eyes fixed on the empty table, unseeing. Except for the bunny. Its beady eyes followed the balrog's departure, and idly wondered if he would return before his tea grew cold.