Did tire the weary company:
All fellowship nearing their graves
And hope wasn’t any.
“Beware the big Balrog, my son!
The shadowy wings, the fires of doom;
Beware Old Durin's Bane and shun
The fall into the Gloom!”
He took his dear Glamdring in hand,
Long time the manxome foe he fought,
Till reaching bottom, touching land,
His foe’s trail he sought.
And as the trail seeking he went,
The Balrog climbed the endless stair;
And bursting into flame, it sent
A blast that singed his hair.
One, two! One, two! And true and true
The fighting two went forward-back,
Till, in the fray, it crashed away
And everything went black.
“And hast thou slain the big Balrog?
Come to my arms, my Olorin!
A frabjous day, but go away
And come back when you win!”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.