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Alli was not at all happy with this new problem. As soon as she thought she had things under control, deus ex machina gave had given her a hard kick in the posterior. She glared at Roggie of Morgoth. "You're burning me." she accused, "And I am NOT late for work." He looked at her with a maniacal and not at all guilty feeling grin as he ran through the nether regions with what could only be described as wingèd speed.
"You know," she added pensively, noting his unnatural winglessness, "I'm kind of amazed at how quickly you're able to fly from the wreckage of the studio if you haven't got wings. Rog', why aren't they there? I attached them myself. You paid for them by giving me disco lessons, remember? And we both know that I'm the best 'winger around. You couldn't just lose them... they're attached. And you wouldn't take them off yourself... your nickname used to be The Lord of the Wings! When you won your most recent battle, the world called the event The Return of the Wing. Roggie... what happened?"
As she talked, he began to slow and looked more and more upset. His eyeliner ran as his balrogic tears turned to steam upon generation. Now he stopped and set her down. She brushed ash off of her clothes and stood there stubbornly.
"Roggie... tell me what's the matter."
"It's that... that hobbit."
"What hobbit, Roggie?" All of the hobbits Alli knew began to march slowly through her thoughts. She couldn't think of a single one that could make someone such as Roggie of Morgoth cry. Bill, maybe... Bill was a wimp. He lazed around for hundreds of years until an old man could beat him up. But Roggie? No way.
"It was... it was... Màrîo."
Alli looked at the wingless balrog wide-eyed. She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't leave here until she heard the whole story.
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