Of Balrogs

My thanks go to Anie, who always agrees to beta-read almost anything I send her way, and to Rhapsody who gave me the idea for this!




A storm was brewing on Glorfindel�s face. And every time his gaze fell on the small arrow in his hands, a thunder could almost be seen in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he pictured himself relaxing in his study, a sparkling fire in his hearth and the beautiful vista from his balcony. Shortly before reaching his door, though, a young elven scribe passed him by, almost breaking at a run at his sight.

An elegant eyebrow shot skywards in surprise.

A few moments later, an elven wail echoed across Imladris� halls.

�Where is a Balrog when you need one?�