The Fall of Durin's Bane

In Moria, in Khazad-dûm, on narrow bridge above the deep, he stood, an old and withered man, the way against his foe to keep. No light of sun or moon or stars could fall upon him with its ray; the dark was lit with fiery red where stood the wanderer in grey. Alone he faced the Shadow's.might, his countenance beset with pain: alone he faced the tainted fire that played and fed on Durin's Bane. The Balrog seized a flaming brand that hung in scabbard at its side; with Glamdring forged by elf of old the passage strongly he denied. The wrath of evil turned to ice, the monster’s flame grew black and died; the mighty wings of darkest hate now spread from cavern side to side. It raised in hand a knotted whip with thongs like strands of deep despair; it seemed the wizard could not stand to those who looked upon him there. A rage came over Boromir, captain of Gondor; fell and bold, and Aragorn the Dúnadan knew wonted courage swift and cold. Aloud they cried--to his succour ran, but fate outstripped them in their race; two foes alone contested there and battle gave in that dark place. The whip uncurled like an evil wave, born of dark wind on a nameless sea; his staff the wizard interposed, struck into rock like a stalwart tree. The thongs of the Balrog's falling lash moaned with the noise of dismal fear; their flight was stayed by a flash of light that shone for a moment white and clear. The aged rock beneath their feet failed to bear such burden of power its blocks collapsed to fall below and plumb the depths in a stony shower. Nor broke the bridge to no avail -- the Balrog lurched into the pit, but one last vengeful blow it gave and snared was he who conquered it. The wizard tottered on the brink; his strength was fled; he fell to doom, and horror seized upon his friends; the light of Anor turned to gloom. In sorrow from that place they fled and saw once more the light of day, but care 1t did not 1ift from them; 1t rode among them on their way. In Moria, in Khazed-dûm, the monster burned with flames of Hell; the wizard fought it endlessly as in the frigid deep they fell. And in the darkness never lit, where no dwarf delved nor e'er man came, they dropped to horror great and fell, hid fast by Earth in fear and shame. The slimy water of the pit which lay at earth's forgotten core engulfed the flames and they were quenched, but shadow's strength now grew the more. Through darkling and forgotten ways, through evil nameless, ageless-old, through horrors that must not be seen, the battle's course cannot be told. The wizard ever pressed it on, followed the foul one as it fled; the Balrog was his only clue to the maze--a dark and knowing thread. To ways at last of cleaner dark, to halls that once by dwarf were held, the elf-sword's wielder drove his foe, but Durin's Bane was not yet felled. The endless stair in story known became the Balrog's path in flight; it ever yielded up the steps till came a downward gleam of light. They reached the summit of the peak, of Zirak-zigil bare and high; the wizard's hand grew strong again; his hope rekindled ‘neath the sky. Now in that hour who could tell the course of combat or the form? the only word that came to men was a memory of mountain storm. It is enough that the enemy who once played servant to Morgoth well, was bested and in morning light upon the mountain's face he fell. The halls of Durin again were free for dwarves to enter and to clean, but Mithrandir passed far away and walked in paths not known or seen. In white he would at length return and Gandalf no more be the grey, and eagle king by elf queen sent would bear him to the world away. The fire of evil burning red, the black of shadow icy-numb, fell to the light of Mithrandir in Moria, in Khazad-dûm.