Highday, 1st of Astron, Year 1418 Shire-reckoning
Iorelen's Camp, Somewhere in the Land of Angmar
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| Thaurlach the Balrog |
"What's the matter?" asked Drodie as he passed nearby.
"Cram," I wheezed, while still trying to cough it out of my throat. I seized my water-skin and took a long draught.
"Ah yes, it's not a good idea to eat that stuff so quickly," he said. "Gets stuck in your craw, it does, unless you give it a proper chewing. You're welcome to keep trying it if you want to, but there are eggs, potatoes, and bacon being fried and served up just yonder, if you'd prefer that to cram."
"What?!" I cried. "Where? Curse the foul winds of this land -- how could I not smell it?"
Drodie pointed the way and in moments I was hunched over a merry campfire with the glorious smells of a solid breakfast hitting me full in the face. A short-bearded Dwarf named Galfi was busy over the fire, but already heaping piles of delicious food were being shoveled onto tin plates or jammed into mugs and passed around. I was quite content when I finally got my share, and settled in to listen to the rising debate among those present.
It was not happy listening. Most of the talk centred around provisioning and organizing our coming sortie into the Rift, which still lay like a slumbering beast in the valley below us. There were many questions asked about Guloth and what sort of creature he was and, while we of Elladan's Outriders did our best to answer, there remained a good number of unanswerable queries. The Balrog, too, was much discussed, and from all the talk I gathered a good bit of history in which you, Dear Reader, might be interested.
What is now known as the Rift was once a city of some sort -- Elven, most seem to think, though the Dwarves present insisted it was originally built by their distant kin -- but the city's name has been lost to the mists of Time. It dated back to the Elder Days, but like much of Angmar it became buried under fire and ash borne on a great wind during the breaking of Thangorodrim and the destruction of Beleriand following the War of Wrath. The good people who once lived there were either overcome and slain or fled east and south in fear, and so the city became deserted.
But it did not remain so. Out of the ruin of Morgoth's dark kingdom fled those valaraukar (the Balrogs) which were not slain by the Host of the Valar, and they hid themselves in the deepest pits they could find. One of these, Thaurlach by name, apparently burrowed into this ancient city, and there it stayed for many, many centuries. But then it began to stir as Sauron, servant of the Black Enemy, re-emerged in the World. When the Elves became aware of this, they sought the aid of something called the Istari -- as best I could make out, this was some sort of council comprised of Messengers from the Uttermost West, I think. Anyway, the Istari, with the help of the Elves, managed to subdue Thaurlach and chain him within the burning halls under the earth, there to await his judgment at the end of days. This Thaurlach was the demon Guloth meant to spring free, and his success would almost certainly mean doom for all the North of Middle-earth.
"The Valar protect us if we should have to engage Thaurlach directly," said Gaelira with a shudder. "The very thought makes my blood run cold."
"But if we can intercept this Guloth, slay him before he reaches the monster," said a tall Man with strange clothing and a long, full beard (whose name I sadly can't recall), "We should have no need to do so."
"But we have been told that Guloth occupies the body of a valiant Man of Gondor," chimed in Iorelen from where had been quietly sitting. "What is to be done, should we overtake him? Shall we end the life of an innocent?"
"We cannot!" cried Nephyn. "Lagodir, our companion, lives still, and it would be unjust to murder him along with his tormentor, even in so dire a situation. There must be some other way."
"I have dispatched Malkan to Rivendell with a message beseeching Lord Elrond for his counsel on this matter," said Gaelira, "But of course it will be some days ere he returns to us, and we cannot afford to wait."
"A difficult choice lies before us, then," said another Elf named Dmorassan. "Perhaps it would be possible to capture Guloth and decide then what is to be done with him?"
"I foresee that is a very dangerous course to take, but it may be the best we can hope to do," said Minasse, "For none here, yea, perhaps none in all Middle-earth save Elrond himself, seems to know how we might save the Man."
"But we do know this," interjected a young, charismatic black-haired captain. "Every moment we spend in vacillation here increases the odds that Guloth will succeed in unleashing the demon. We must delay no longer -- let those who are venturing into the Rift make ready, for the morning is passing us swiftly by."
From that time the preparations did not take long. We Outriders kept together, but all told there were more than a score of us who dared to embark on our mission. I held Nephyn's hand unashamedly and I'm sure she felt it trembling, for she squeezed my fist several times as we walked. The lot of us descended back into the valley and marched down into the enormous rent which pierced the huge stone disk to its centre. We had entered the Rift.
I will not darken the good light of this world by telling you everything which transpired that day beneath the earth. For one thing, to do so would require several reams of paper, a small mountain of inkwells, and probably a year to write it all down in detail. But, to be perfectly honest, if I had ten years and nothing to do but write this story I still wouldn't recount everything I saw there, for it was far too horrible.
We encountered Orcs and goblins, trolls and Angmarim in those pits (I was told they had been sent there to mine obsidian and iron by Moridirth some time ago), but we also found strange, terrible creatures in the depths for which we had no name. Some fled before us while others gave us battle, but as the hours wore on we progressed deeper and deeper into the Rift. I saw whole buildings down there: round arenas of stone, long many-pillared halls, and what must have been several miles of tunnels. There were freezing cold shafts and lakes of burning hot magma, so that our footing was often treacherous. Yet, through it all, we somehow kept going.
After what felt like days our progress was halted by a massive door of stone. It was intricately carved with all manner of runes and other graven images, but it was so large we despaired of ever finding a way to open it. Still, we had not encountered Guloth in all that time, so we knew there must be a way in. After careful examination, we discovered the levers which opened the seals and unlatched the locks, and the door slowly swung open. What we saw then nearly stopped my heart.
It was Thaurlach, the Balrog, and he roared in his anger as we revealed ourselves. At first I thought he was going to hurl himself at us and crush us into pebbles, but then I saw he was restrained -- chained by the wrists in the midst of a large pool. I remembered then what I was told earlier: that Thaurlach had been imprisoned within Nurz Ghashu for many long years, so there was no reason to think he would suddenly break free at this exact moment. I breathed a little easier, but I was still mesmerized by the awesome terror which raged just a few dozen yards in front of me.
"It seems Fate smiles on us after all," said Iorelen as she eyed the Balrog with distaste. "Perhaps we succeeded in reaching this place before Guloth was able to --"
"Look!" cried Nephyn and pointed. I followed her gaze and gasped. There, at the far end of the chamber, stood a sinister figure robed in black.
"I see thou hast brought more friends, my little footpads," came Guloth's voice, echoing off the hard stone in our ears. "A shame it is, that thou shouldst deceive so many innocents to join thee on thy fool's errand, for there is no hope any of thy number shall ever leave this place alive. Yet I thank thee: thy companions must be brave and hearty indeed to have reached this place, and all the more now shall my Lord reward me for extinguishing such a large band of brave souls at once. This game is ended: behold the power of Chaos!"
With that, Guloth raised his hand (his left hand, I was sure to note), and there was a blinding flash, as of lightning. I heard a sharp crack, then all the earth around us seemed to tremble in fury.
"Ai!" cried Iorelen and she pointed toward the ceiling. "Guloth has weakened Thaurlach's chains and he is breaking free! We must do something before --"
But it was too late: Guloth had fled out some portal in the back of the chamber as Thaurlach quickly overpowered his restraints and the battle was joined. I couldn't possibly tell you, Dear Reader, all that transpired in that conflict. It was like being in the very centre of a raging war, with the thunder of a thousand horses running all around. There were shoutings, cries for help, battle-commands, and shrieks of terror everywhere. I did my best to stay out of the way (and out of harm's way) while aiding those I could reach who needed me. I saw the young black-haired captain seized and his body shattered in the Balrog's fist. I saw a fully armoured Dwarf -- his name was Fargrimm, I think -- knocked unconscious then drowned ignominiously in the shallow pool. At one point, just a dozen feet or so from me, I saw a handsome Ranger smashed to pieces by Thaurlach's massive steel chains which he began using as a weapon. Yet, during all the mayhem, we were hailing blows onto the demon as well. For what felt like ages this seemed to have no impact, but eventually it became clear the monster was suffering injury. Finally, just as I was beginning to feel I could continue no longer, Iorelen cried aloud and hurled her bright spear; it pierced deep into the chest of the Balrog. Thaurlach screamed in his agony, but he did not fall -- instead he began to topple the pillars throughout the chamber!
"Fly! Fly!" cried Iorelen, and a great fear was in her shining eyes. "Fly! The fiend will bury us all! Run for your lives!"
We fled. I don't think I've ever run faster in my life. I was in such a panic that I don't even remember checking to see who managed to escape and who did not -- it was everyone for themselves. The earth overhead gave a mighty groan, then the cave-in began. Mountains of dirt and stone rained down from above, but for the moment it was all behind us. A massive cloud of dust swooped up and enveloped us all, causing my eyes and lungs to burn with pain, but I kept running. The thunderous booms of the collapsing cavern deafened me, and I held my ears as I ran. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the cave-in stopped.
We all dropped to the ground to catch our breath, but the air was thick with debris and we were obliged to place cloths over our mouths and noses. Looking around, I saw we five Outriders were all accounted for, but I could immediately tell there were a large number of others missing and, as soon as we were able to move again, we made our way back down the tunnels to search for them.
The cause was hopeless, for the falling stone had completely sealed off the passageway. We tried moving some rubble and we listened for a long while, hoping beyond hope to hear any cries for help, but all was deathly quiet there beneath the earth. At last, we were forced to leave the Rift; we retraced our steps to the outside world and repaired to our campsite. Those who had remained behind cheered at our return and marvelled at our tale, but despite our success there was no revelry that night; less than half of our original number had survived.
In addition to those I saw slain by the Balrog in the pit, so many others were trapped and buried alive in that valley. I had made no special effort to memorize their names -- you have to remember I had only just met them the evening before -- but I write now in their memory, for they gave their lives that others might live in peace. Dmorassan the Elf did not return, nor did the strange Man with the long beard whose name I could never recall. Lost too were Freoi the clear-voiced Dwarf, Eryndil the keen-eyed Elf, Erados, valiant Man, and Jexeth, whose hands were ever upon her happy lute. I am told that the names of those who participated and fell during the raid on Nurz Ghashu were later assembled and sent to the lore-masters of Rivendell for inclusion in their Annals, which is a very great honour indeed.
We five Outriders, thankfully, suffered only very minor injuries during the sortie, and we huddled together around Nephyn's campfire to ward off the cold winds which suddenly began blowing out of the east. The skies were dark and drear, and you can imagine my surprise when I was told it was only the very early morning of the following day! It felt as if we had spent weeks down there when in truth it was only several hours. I suppose the header for this entry really ought to read Sterday, 2nd of Astron, but I'm too tired to bother changing it now.
Anyway, as we sat there silently together, Iorelen approached with her arm in a sling. Even the masterful Elf-warden had not escaped the battle unscathed, yet her attention was entirely on us.
"It would seem Mallacai's foresight did not fail him," she said as she eyed us all intently. "Even if Thaurlach somehow managed to survive, he is buried deep and will not likely trouble the world again anytime soon."
"Unfortunately, many proud warriors lie buried there with him," said Gaelira. "So much misery has been wrought at the hands of this Company! I repent now of ever attempting such a foolhardy mission: everything has gone awry."
"Say not so," said Minasse in his usual brusque manner. "We all knew the risks we were taking, and much must be risked in war. But also there are still questions that need answering: what has become of Guloth?"
"And Lagodir with him," I chimed in. "You... you don't suppose he's still down there...?"
"I think not," said Iorelen. "Guloth made to exit the caverns well before we did, yet many of us still survived the Rift's collapse. I suspect your quarry remains abroad somewhere. Do you mean to follow him?"
"We do," said Nephyn, her cheeks flushing red. "Quite aside from the fact we still have Lagodir to rescue (somehow), Guloth now has the lives of your compatriots to answer for, and we would see it done."
"Perhaps," Gaelira cut in. "Yet we must also consider the fact we do not know what exactly we would do if we managed to discover Guloth and if we somehow managed to overpower him. On this I must have time to think. But what of yourself and your fellows, Iorelen?"
"We must rest and recover ourselves at the very least," the Elf answered. "But we will also need to mount a rescue operation -- if there is any chance that someone remains alive and buried down there, then we will do all we can to save them, though I have slim hopes it will prove so. I would also check on Thaurlach, if I can, to see whether that threat has truly been eliminated. In sum, I believe we will be here for some time yet."
"You have my condolences," said Drodie, daring to jest a little. "This isn't where I'd prefer to spend the first days of Spring."
"Nor I," Iorelen said with a smile, "But the Seekers of the Seven Stars will always do what must be done. In the meantime, I would urge you five to continue your search for the Steward of Angmar. It is clear your fates are tied together with his and with that of your Gondorian friend as well, and I would not hinder it. Do not worry about us: we will be quite capable of defending ourselves if any of Angmar's minions come nosing about."
"You have our thanks," said Gaelira as she bowed her head. "You and your companions are the bravest and most valiant warriors I have had the honour to fight beside in many long years."
"The feeling is mutual, my friends," Iorelen replied. "A great evil has finally been removed from this Middle-earth and the might of the Enemy is considerably lessened thanks, in no small part, to your courage. Now if you will please excuse me, there is much to which I must attend, as you can imagine."
After bidding Iorelen good night, we briefly turned to our own counsel, but nothing really came of the discussions. Most of us were too tired to be of use and none of us had the slightest idea of what to do next in any case. In the end, we simply decided to sleep on it and let the dawn of a new day chart our course.
As I lay there dozing, I thought about everything I had been through in the last three months. I wondered if anyone back in the Shire would ever believe one tenth of everything I've recorded in this journal, but by now I knew my writings would likely never be read by Shire-folk, assuming any of them ever came to know about it. It was now clear to me that I was caught up in an age-long struggle -- a battle which has its roots in the Elder Days of the World and was still going on. I wondered whether such tales ever really have an end...
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar sound: Sching. Sching. I bolted upright, expecting to find Lagodir, like so many times before, seated by the campfire on watch, thoughtfully running a whetstone down the length of his sword. Instead, I saw the grizzled face of Galfi meticulously sharpening his filleting knives. The Dwarf glowered at me sulkily and went back about his business.
I slowly lay down again and stared at the empty sky overhead. Would we ever see Lagodir again?
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