Gandalf and the Balrog.

The company ran like hell towards the legendary bridge of Khazad-Dum, they were fleeing for their lives from the host of Orcs who were in hot pursuit of them, well, more tepid pursuit now, after all, they'd been running a while now. Most of the company was still wondering why the hell Frodo was still alive after getting skewered a couple of minutes previously. Just as they felt as if their legs were going to drop off if they couldn't rest soon, they turned a corner. Suddenly, the bridge itself hove into view. It could have just appeared, but it really wanted to hove, as it felt hoving was somehow more dramatic for a bridge with these particular qualities, and legendary status.

"What pillock designed that?" screamed Legolas, noticing that it was very thin and precarious looking, with not a handrail to be seen, "I should think health and safety would have had a few choice words about it."

"It was a dwarfish security measure back in the old days of our power and wisdom." Gimli explained to him, "not a one of our enemies would be able to storm us without being casually picked off by our arrows. Clever eh?"

"And none of you ever considered the idea that if you needed to get out in a hurry it might be a bit crap?" Legolas continued, quickening his pace a little, eager not to be the one at the back who always get picked off.

"No, looking back I suppose it may have been a little rash really." Gimli conceded.

The entire company now increased their speed to match Legolas, as they could all work out what he was up to, and none of them were that stupid. Well, except Sam who was just trying to make sure nobody else got close to Frodo's back. Suddenly a terrible sight greeted them as they rounded the last corner before the bridge proper.

"Bugger me!" exclaimed Gandalf, "a Balrog, a real, bona fide, sodding great Balrog! I though they were all wiped out in the War of Wrath!"

"Quick, somebody check whether it's got wings or not!" Aragorn shouted, "It's about time that got laid to rest isn't it?"

"Can't really tell from this angle 'Arry" Boromir interjected, "I mean they could be your genuine fiery wings, or it could just be the shadows, or he might have set his jacket on fire. It's all a bit vague and shadowy isn't it?"

"He's right you know, we can't tell either" Merry and Pippin chorused in perfect unison, as if anyone gave a toss what they thought. "What's your opinion Ring-bearer? And why aren't you dead?"

"I don't really care, it's not important whether it has wings or not, unless they're KFC flame grilled hot wings, I'm starving." Frodo replied, hastily trying to divert attention from his not being dead.

"Yesss we could go a takeaway right now, my preciousss, letsssss deal with thisssss later" came a voice from the shadows nearby, "who else wantsssss fissssssshhh?"

And then, the bridge was before them, and the Balrog stood in their way, all terrible and fiery and scary.

"Stop, you cannot pass, I am a servant of the secret fire, yada yada yada, mumbo jumbo hocus pocus and all that palaver." Gandalf proclaimed ceremoniously.

"Well, you'd have thought he might have taken that a bit more seriously wouldn't you?" Frodo whispered to Sam, "after all he's supposed to be a serious thespian. Done Shakespeare and everything I'm told."

"Really? I though he was just some out of work conjurer we picked up cos he wasn't making enough selling fireworks anymore, Master sexy bum." said Sam.

"Sam?"

"Yes Master?"

"Don't call me that, ever again, I'm serious, we had this talk already didn't we? Remember, when you tried to grope me in the old Forest?"

"Well, I've never heard it called that before!" Laughed Boromir who had been listening in.

"Ahem! Excuse me? Big terrifying monster here? Can I have your attention a second please?" The Balrog was getting a little tetchy and felt that nobody was really taking him seriously. Everybody shuffled their feet a bit and made apologetic noises, when they had all finally quietened down a bit the Balrog spoke again. Though really, given the circumstances you would expect him to have spake really. "You are a servant of the big stupid, stupid thing, and a wizard of the terminally daft, I don't need to pass, you do! Think about it stumpy." And then the Balrog uttered a terrible laugh, no really, Balrogs aren't used to laughing, and he was really out of practise.

"Damn!" said Gandalf; "I didn't really think that through properly did I? Oh well, let's rumble baby, you're gonna be Balrog Tikka Masala by the time I'm through with you!"

They duly rumbled, fighting and hacking and making smart arse comments in between each kick, a lot like James Bond might. The battle was long and bloody, and also bloody long. The other members of the Fellowship eventually sat down and had a crafty smoke on their hash pipes while they waited for them to finish.

Gandalf thrusted, the Balrog parried. Gandalf thrusted again, and the Balrog cried "You cannot defeat me with your trendy disco dancing, wizard boy!" and all continued in this vein until finally, as the Balrog was lunging in for a final killing blow, Gandalf stuck his foot out and tripped him over. As he tumbled into the endless deep, however, the Balrog grabbed the hem of Gandalf's dress (well, I've never seen a robe with such a lovely Dahlia pattern on it) pulling him down with him. Down and down into the endless depths they tumbled, and all that was heard was a cry from Gandalf of "Run you tossers!" though it was later recorded in a more tasteful way.

"Well, you heard the guy, lets make like a tree and leave!" Boromir shouted, as he proceeded to leg it over the precarious and crappy bridge. Legolas must have agreed as he also hopped over it pretty sharpish, still eager not to be the one at the back. Aragorn and the Hobbits however were being daft and staring into the gorge, crying their little eyes out like big girls.

"You heard what the man said! Leg it!" cried Gimli, who was eager to get away, as the stupid gits were blocking the only way onto the bridge.

"But without him, all is lost!" Frodo exclaimed, "you guys know nothing at all about what we may have to face, we're knackered this time!"

"Good maybe we can go home then" was all Gimli had to say on the subject as he began kicking them all in their ample behinds to get them moving.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the endless (well, it couldn't really have been endless could it?) gorge, our two warriors had just landed rather fortunately, on a pile of old mattresses, which might have been put there for just this reason. Gandalf faced the Balrog, and, with a glint in his eye, gave him a certain look. The Balrog turned to face Gandalf, stuck his tongue out at him, reached up and tore at his own face, relentlessly, pulling flesh and busting horns. Gandalf looked up at him, a look of great pleasure in his face, as if he had just pulled off a rather brilliant bit of magic. And then, they both began to laugh heartily, as the Balrog's terrible visage was removed, and a tired, thin looking old man looked out from inside a huge pile of latex.

"Al! How are you my old mate?" Gandalf cried, embracing his dear old friend.

"Not so bad, Olly you old fraud, yourself?"

"Oh you know, mustn't grumble. I've been stuck with this whole ring quest thing, and frankly, they're all getting on my nerves a bit now. In fact I really hope it all goes wrong, which it will, I mean, what are the chances of nine little people getting past old one-eye and destroying his little ring? Never gonna happen, so I figured I'd take a bit of a break, and when they're all dead I'm sodding off back to Valinor. Simply because I can, and it'll all be fine back there, I mean what do I care about these poxy little men and elves and dwarfs and hobbits? Anyhow, I really need a drink, which is why I called you on your mobile." Gandalf indicated a tiny little palantir, which he kept in his pocket.

"Well, you were lucky, I was here anyway on a job for this little slimy guy, he wanted me to attack you twice you know. He said a cave troll back up in the halls would have been a good idea as well. But I says, no, I'm already going to do a big fiery Balrog by the bridge, I've got my heart set on it now. And what would the chances be of there being a sodding great cave troll and a Balrog in the same abandoned dwarf mines eh? I mean, be realistic, that sort of thing only ever happens in the movies don't it?"

"Can you believe those tossers believed you were really a Balrog? I mean, everyone knows they were all wiped out in the War of Wrath! Talk about two short planks!"

"Absolutely, but they fall for it every time, trust me."

"Well, Al, you've bought me a bit of spare time, what say me and you go for a few beers and see what else has been going on." And with that, the two friends headed off down the gorge, looking for a decent club, where they could hear a bit of underground trance music and get Legolas, sorry, I meant legless (yes, I know, I know.)

Meantime, up top, the rest of the fellowship was emerging into the sunshine, wondering what happened. They saw the marvellous landscape in front of them, all towering mountain tops and shining lakes and rivers. Really, you would not have been surprised if a lonely goat herd had been yodelling at Julie Andrews and a horde of screaming children it was that pretty a place, yet they gave not a toss for it. Some were too grief stricken, others were too amazed they were still alive, and some of them were just really, really shallow; such as Legolas and Aragorn who were both checking their hair in the mirrormere.

"So it's just us now is it?" Merry asked Boromir,

"Looks that way Pippin" Boromir replied, "another fine mess he's got us into." He indicated Aragorn with a wave of one hand (the other was scratching at the top of his head).

"Hang on, aren't I Merry?" Merry whispered in Pippin's ear.

"Search me mate" Pippin answered, "I still can't see what the point of us being here is anyway. Let alone tell us apart."

The company continued along their walk and headed off into the woods, all nine of them. None of them noticed that there were still nine of them, and nor did they notice the smell of fish that was suddenly a lot stronger.

"Sssssso then, Baggins, how come you are sssstill aliveses then?"

"Well" Frodo piped up, "the funny thing about it is, that this whole section was only put in so that Gandalf and his mate could have time to get to the pub. My voice is going to fade out now, well, it would if this was a movie or a radio play, but it's just written down so I expect there'll be a whole load of dots in a second..."

And with that they faded off into the distance to try and pull some of the notoriously easy elf women of Lothlorien.

"See, I told you so" was the last little voice to be heard before the inevitable cut.

After wandering far on roads that they would not tell of, the two old friends had finally reached a hostelry. The outside was dark and dank, the windows steamed up, and Jazz music spilled out from the open, yet strangely unwelcoming door. The sign outside portrayed an image already all too familiar to anyone in Middle Earth who knew anything.

"Surely nobody's tasteless enough to open a bar in Middle Earth called the "Old Red Eye" Al?" Gandalf exclaimed, "could we not nip down the road a bit to the "Nazgul's Head"?"

"You'll not find a finer drop around these parts than in the "Old Red Eye" Olly, it's a prime boozer, and it's got table football now."

"Well, why didn't you say so earlier?" Gandalf affirmed, and they went in.

Inside you could find all the races of Middle Earth quietly drinking and chatting, or playing pool, or darts, or card games, or indeed, Table football. In the corner was the noted bounty hunter and gypsy jazz virtuoso Django "Fett" Reinhardt, who was wondering if anyone else would get the joke and playing a laid back jazz groove to the populace. A tall black clad figure walked towards Gandalf.

"Olly! How the devil are you my dear boy? Nasty trick you played on us back there with the river you know."

"Maurice! Glad to see you survived it, I knew you would. Skiving off again before you go back to old one eye?" Gandalf embraced the tall skeletal figure and turned back to Al, "Al, you remember Maurice the Witch king don't you?"

"Course I do" Al replied, "I suppose you're caught up in all this ring business as well are you?"

"Well, yeah, you know what that one-eyed git's like, he loves his Jewellery. If it hadn't been for old Olly here trying to drown us at the ford, I don't think we'd have been able to nip off for even this one. Honestly, he reckons he's going to have us on flying doodads again soon. He knows I get vertigo, but does he care? Does he fuck. I'll tell you something, I'm going to complain to my union rep soon if we don't get better working conditions." Maurice explained.

"Well, good to catch up with you again anyway Maurice, we'll just get a drink in" Gandalf edged his way back into the conversation, whilst trying to edge himself a little nearer the bar.

"Yeah, well, me and the lads had better be off anyway, he'll be wondering what's taking us so long by now. Be seeing you guys later I expect."

"I don't doubt it," muttered Gandalf, "bye then." And with that eight other black clad, skeletal tall figures were heard to mumble disgruntledly, neck their pints and wander off after Maurice the Witch King.

After getting a couple of pints in, Al and Gandalf set themselves into a small side booth by the window and got down to some serious drinking.

"Well" sighed Gandalf, setting himself heavily into his chair "I've got us dibs on the next game on the pool table. Just as soon as those Orcs have finished scamming old Glorfindel. Now tell me, how come you turned bad as well then? I mean Curry was enough of a surprise, but you?"

"I never turned bad, I'm a freelance, I work for anyone as long as the price is right. I'm definitely not into either side's cause, and I don't want any power for myself, just money, and lots of it thank you very much."

"Yeah, but how come?" as he said this Gandalf was aware of a group of Lorien elves mincing into the room. He also knew that this would mean trouble.

"Well, it seemed a bit unfair to me really, I mean, you and Curry, you get to be grey and white yeah? Aiwe got to be Brown, and me and Pall both had to be blue, I mean I got nothing against being blue, but why did we have to share? And then on top of that, you guys all got to be in the thick of all the interesting stuff over here. Well, apart from Rad, but then I always thought he was a bit nuts going around talking to animals and trees. Very peculiar bloke if you ask me. And there was us over there in the far East 'where nobody ever heard of them again' and suchlike.

"So I thought to myself, I want some of the action, so I came back this way to have a bit of fun. Got a job being a Dragon to scare them little dwarfs out of the mountain. Thick as pig shit your average dwarf you know" Al leant over and whispered this last bit in Gandalf's ear, as there were a large party of Dwarfs at the next table. "Anyhow, you knackered that up for me with that little bastard Hobbit and his friends, so I had to get me a new gig. Mythical creatures are always good to have about, and I do do a good line in them, and yeah, I do seem to always get to be the bad guy. But it's not my fault you know, if you guys had more imagination I'd get to do a bit more than the giant eagles you always seem to need. By the way, you still owe me a pint for that last one mate."

"What? Oh of course, coming up Al" Gandalf muttered, getting slowly to his feet and returning to the bar.

On the return journey, he was stopped by a couple of Orcs with big well-meaning smiles on their faces.

"Hello Mr Gandalf" began the first, "my name is Ugluk, I am currently with the fighting Uruk-Hai, and I just wanted to take this opportunity to shake you by the hand and tell you how much I admire your fireworks."

"Ummm... thank you? I think?" said Gandalf, shaking him by the hand and looking about himself nervously.

"Me too" piped up the second Orc, "Grishnak's the name, I'm a proper Morgul Orc I'll have you know."

"Really? That's jolly nice for you" Gandalf indulged the Orc, feeling very odd about this.

"We was wondering if you knew what them little fellows you left behind was gonna do next." Ugluk interjected, "strictly off the record you know, after all, we're all off duty here ain't we? So strictly speaking it don't matter." He looked imploringly up at Gandalf, who was thoroughly disturbed to find the expression as adorable as a recently kicked puppy's.

"Well" began Gandalf, "if they've got any sense, they'll go and try to pull some of the notoriously easy elf women of Lothlorien, then continue down the river until they get to Amon Hen and Amon Law, then they can decide which way to go from there. I reckon I'll catch them shortly after that when they've chickened out of going to Mordor and are lost somewhere in Rohan. Probably near to Fangorn at a guess."

"You think so do you? Well, thank you Mr Gandalf sir, you're a scholar and a gent, and that's no mistake." Ugluk pumped Gandalf's hand vigorously a second time, and went back to his little group of friends, who were enjoying themselves pulling the Lorien elves hair to make them cry.

As he walked back to their table, Gandalf could hear the Orcs singing in the background, the same old tune:

Maybe it's because I'm a Mordoror

That I love Barad-dur

And so on, and so on.

He returned to the booth to find Al making ready to leave.

"Going again so soon Al?" he enquired.

" 'Fraid so my old mate, that little weedy guy just called me again. You'll never guess what he wants me to do next!"

"What is it then?"

"Well, you remember way back in the old country?"
"Yes"

"Remember old Golly, who ate the trees?"

"Yeah, of course I do, what's your point?"

"He wants me to pretend to be one of her descendants, and get a couple of your Hobbits out the way for him. But it's way over in Cirith Ungol, so I've really got to get moving."

"Well, good luck mate, I'll catch you later. You're bound to get another gig I'm involved in before all this is over." Gandalf sighed.

"See you mate, hope you get that holiday soon." Al waved and with a swish of his coat, he exited the bar.

Gandalf sat and stared into his pint, he really hoped this whole quest would go pear-shaped, then maybe he could get back to Valinor and have a bit of a rest at last. Fuck Middle Earth, he thought, what've they ever done for me? Absolutely fuck all, that's what. I know, I'll go to Lothlorien and get me a bit of that Galadriel, she's easy. Them daft Hobbits ought to have told her I'm dead by now, so she'll be all happy to see me alive, then tell her how incredibly brave and clever I was against the Balrog and Wahey! I'm in!

He finished his drink, and wandered off in the direction of Lothlorien, with a slight spring in his step. Behind him, he could just make out the sounds of a full on barroom brawl breaking out between the Uruk-Hai and the Lorien Elves. Some people just never learn that off duty means off duty.

THE END

Explanation of names for those who don't know everything about Middle Earth yet.

Gandalf is also known as Olorin in the west, hence Olly.

Al is Alatar, one of the Blue Wizards.

Pall is Pallando, the other blue wizard.

Aiwe is Aiwendil, also known as Radagast the brown, the terminally stupid wizard who got Gandalf into so much trouble with Saruman.

Curry is Curumo, also known as Saruman the White.

Golly is Ungoliant, the ancient Spider who helped Melkor to destroy the Trees of Valinor.

Surely you must know all the rest?

 

(c) Dave Holwill 2002.

This work is in no way endorsed by or affiliated with the Tolkien estate, who I apologise to profusely for all that is contained herein.