Rider (A Kili/ Hobbit novel)

Chapter 19: The Lake

My faith is well placed, for we make it through the village quite easily; most of the orcs have turned their attention to the three Balrogs that followed Kinjal and I to the village. 

The Balrogs seem to care little who they cut down; their eyes show a horrid mixture of bloodlust and insanity as they slice through the orcs like a well-oiled machine. It becomes apparent rather quickly that the Balrogs are still making their way towards the rest of the Riders, and I realize with newfound horror that using the orcs as a distraction will not give us enough time to fly in and destroy the Balrogs. We need a new plan, and fast.

I rack my brain for every piece of information I remember from my father's stories, but come up empty. I do not know if it is from my own growing fear, or if there is simply no more information to help me from the tales. It matters little now.

"How do we kill them, how do we kill them?" I do not even realize I have spoken through my bond with Kinjal until she replies.

"I do not know little one, but we must think of something quickly. They are almost upon us." Kinjal's voice shows no fear, and I take courage from that.

There's always something; there has to be something. I twist around on Kinjal's back, searching the area around us frantically for something, anything to aid my fellow Riders and I. Seven sets of human and dragon eyes watch me expectantly, waiting for orders.

Almost as if in a trance, my voice comes out quietly, "What if we lead them to the lake?"  I speak out loud, so I doubt anyone hears me.

I had taken my idea from our own history. When the Riders had driven away the forsaken from our lands, some of the Rider-less dragons had attempted to return. We had driven them to a lake at the base of the mountain range our kingdom is situated around, and there we drown the great serpents.

A Balrog would, without a doubt, survive being submerged in water, unlike a dragon, but a creature of flame and shadow should be weakened when met with its equal; water.

Kinjal is the only one close enough to pick my voice out among the screams of the dying orcs below us.

Her voice comes through, crystal clear, in my head, "You refer to the lake where the Riders of old drown the forsaken, do you not?" Kinjal asks, catching on to my plan quickly.

"Yes. Could you tell the other dragons?"

Something I had always slightly envied of the dragons was their ability to communicate with each other mentally. Unlike Riders they do not need a bond to allow them to do this; they do so naturally.

"They will follow us." Kinjal tells me after a moment of silence between us as she relayed the information.

"Let's go then. To the lake!"

We wheel off to the east, heading down the mountain as we go. The Balrogs, sensing the ruse, bellow in rage and chase after us. Their anger seems to fuel their speed, and soon they fly close enough behind us that the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Three of the seven other Riders peel off and make a bee line for the lake, every one of them nothing more than a blur of metallic color. One of the Balrogs changes directions to follow them, but the other two stay locked on the five of us.

Not long after, the other four Riders break off from Kinjal and I, heading directly for the lake as well. A second Balrog speeds after them, but Gothmog remains behind Kinjal and I.

After giving the other Riders a head start, Kinjal at last turns towards the lake, pouring every bit of speed into the movement. We streak towards the lake, and I watch it approach at a terrifyingly rapid pace, questioning Kinjal's ability to pull us up in time from smashing right into the surface of the water.

Just as we are about to crash though, Kinjal does manage to drag us back up to flying level with the ground. Something wraps itself taunt around the back of one of Kinjal's back legs though, yanking her off balance and causing me to tumble from her back. Kinjal had been flying relatively close to the ground, but the gut wrenching feeling of falling without Kinjal to catch me is still completely terrifying. Even as I flail my arms around in panic, I have enough sense to twist my head around to look for her.

I catch a small glimpse of her bronze wings up above, but my own fear is creating a barrier between our bond, and I am unable to speak to her. She flies around, frantically searching for me, oblivious in her terror of losing me that Gothmog stalks her movements. I try to scream out in warning, but the cry is lost among the shouting and chaos around me, and Kinjal hears nothing. 

It seems that I fall in slow motion towards the rippling water below. I manage to contort my limbs from a flailing mass to a reserved dive before I make contact with the water, preventing a painful impact. I slice through the water, the momentum from my great fall pushing me further down into the depths of the lake. 

No one had ever bothered to measure how deep the lake was; as far as we knew it was infinite. Perhaps I could just keep swimming downwards until I reached the center of the earth. I focus all of my remaining energy on kicking my legs swiftly, working my way as deep as I possibly can.

A splash muffled by the water comes from above me, and I know Gothmog dove into the water after me.

I stop swimming and close my eyes, feeling the disruptions in the flow of water hitting against me in waves. Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs, is incapable of coming after me while I remain this deep underwater. I can feel waves of pressure in the water from his frantic kicking to stay afloat; there is no way he will be able to come deeper.

Slowly making my way back to the surface, I am careful to breach the water far enough away from the Balrog to avoid being grabbed by him. The sight that greets my eyes when I finally do make it back to the top for air is a horrific one; Gothmog looks terrible. 

Gone are the shadows and flames that cloaked him as he chased us north. He now appears much smaller, slimey and brown. He looks weaker and desperate, flailing around in the water, and completely oblivious to everything besides his need to escape that death trap I had tricked him into.

He now seems defeatable.