The Flaming Prince

This story is a fan fiction, heavily influenced by Lord Of The Rings. Hope you enjoy.

As they say, history is written by the winners of war. but what if there were hero's who did not want to be known, or legends told for that matter. This is a story of one such hero. One who knew if his existence was found out, he would be hunted to the ends of the earth. So as he intertwined himself into the affairs of history, he made sure no record of his existence was written. He left his existence to rumors and superstition so as to be lost to the shadows. This is his beginning.

Inside a large stone hall, people gather around a large wooden table. A map of middle Earth is at the center of the table between them all. Small figurines line line up on the map, representing the armies each kingdom holds. Halmash, the dwarf king, slams his fist on the table. Figurines fall over from the impact.

"There is no way we can win this war!" Halmash exclaims. "Even should the armies of the dwarves join in your little rebellion to defeat Sauron, it would be nowhere near enough. The armies of mordor with the armies of the fallen kings is to great to handle. The best we can do at this point..." He says as he sits back down in his chair. "Is see to our people and defend our lands."

"Easy for a mountain dwarf." Elendil says as he sips out of his goblet. " To preach of holding up and defending in your little hole in the hill." Elendil places his goblet onto the table, gets up from his chair and begins to pace around the table. "We must act now if we are going to have any chance of being able to strike at Sauron. Right now the corrupted kings are consolidating their power at Gundabad. they have yet to consolidate their forces with Saurons. If we strike now we have a chance."

"Or at the very least." Elrond interjects. " Draw Sauron out from his fortress so we can strike him down and end this once and for all!" Gandalf lights his pipe and leans back in his chair, deep in thought, staring at the map. "Many lives will be lost in this battle." Gandalf says as he puffs smoke from his pipe. "But if we are to have any chance of success, than we must act now! Altogether. Or we will separately fall."

Halmash pushes himself away from the table and stands up. "There is no chance for us to win this. Even with the full might of dwarves, humans and even the bloody elves wouldn't be enough."

A Dark cloaked figure appears behind the dwarf. He moves his cloak from his right side and places his right hand, clad in a black gauntlet with red stripes across the fingers, on the back of the dwarfs chair. He pushes the chair in, forcing the dwarf to sit down. "Was hoping this meeting would be going a little better before I arrived. How disappointing."

Black smoke emanates from the strangers right hand, slowly burning the chair the dwarf was siting in. Elrond and Gandalf stand and slowly approach the stranger from each side. Elrond places his hand on the hilt of his sword and Gandalf grabs his staff. The dwarf looks up slowly and the strangers standing behind him. The stranger pulls out the dwarfs chair with ease. The stranger motions for the dwarf to leave the chair. The dwarf hops out of the chair and draws his ax. The stranger sit in the chair and pulls it to the table.

"And what business bring you here to our meeting, friend?" Gandalf asks, still slowly approaching the stranger. The Stranger drops the hood on his cloak, revealing a young man with long scarlett red hair tied up in a pony tail. He looks towards Gandalf. "The way this war is shaping up, you and your." The stranger looks around at the others around the table, "Friends won't be able to wait long before the rest of the corrupted armies join his main force at mount doom. Should that happen, it's all over."

Halmash slowly advances bringing his ax to bare. "Obviously. Thank you for repeating what we've been saying." The stranger sits up in his chair, crossing his hands across his chest. "Well I have a solution to our mutual problem." the stranger says smirking. "And who possibly is an enemy of Sauron that would like to be our friend?" Elendil inquires, taking another sip from his goblet.

The cloak begins to simmer and smoke as it dissolves around the stranger, turning into ash around him. The Stranger is clad in black armor with red stripes adorning his chest and arms. He looks towards the center of the table at the map. "I am Rashul, Son of Bagal. Prince of the balrog king." Gandalf's eyes widen as Halmash brings down his ax towards Rashul's head. As the metal gets close to Rashul's head, it glows red and melts before it can slice through Rashul's head. Halmash looks at the ax in disbelief.

"I am not here to fight you. I am here to help you." Rashul states, motioning everyone to sit at the table. They all look at each other and slowly take their seats at the table. "We all have a common enemy that needs dealt with. Sauron's power grows by the day. We must act now and I can give you what you need. Power." Rashul holds out his hand and dark red flames burn out of it. Gandalf tilts his head in interest. "You say that you are the prince of the balrog king, but to my knowledge they cannot take on a human form." Rashul nod his head. " Correct, wizard. Normally they cannot. I am half balrog. My mother was a sacrifice from a small village to my father", Rashul clenches his left fist and grits his teeth. "And I think you can guess the rest of that story."

Elrond chimes in. "And what sort of support are you suggesting to help us?" Rashul smirks. "A battalion of balrogs that will turn the tide of this war. Possibly even end it." The dwarf scoffs. "Please. And why should we trust anything a flame demon would have to say to us that has been under the thrall of Morgoth?" Rashul closes his right hand and the flame burns out, smoke seeping out from between his fingers. "Because you have no choice. If you wish to have any chance of winning, then you will need my help. And if you don't accept my help, you will all perish like this flame."

Halmash begins to stand but Gandalf raises his hand, motioning him to sit back down. Gandalf leans forward and crosses his hands across his face. "And what would you like in return, Prince of balrogs?" Rashul crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. "Freedom."