The balrog is defeated
The Witch-king listened carefully to #4's plan. His idea was to fly Minas Mor-go to the Isen, and dip the bottom levels into the river. Once they had flooded, the balrog's fires would be quenched, and from there the balrog would be easy to handle.
"That's the craziest idea I've ever heard!" said the Witch-king. He called the other Ringwraiths over. "Does anybody have another idea?"
"I've got one," said Khamûl. "We fly the city to the river and we dip the lower levels into the water. With the lower levels flooded, the balrog's fires will be quenched and we can easily deal with it."
"That was my idea!" shouted #4.
The Witch-king ignored #4's complaints. "Excellent idea, Khamûl! Let's get started! Get the flying beasts flapping their wings! To the river, and quickly! I can hear the balrog roaring beneath my feet!"
The Ringwraiths whipped the flying beasts into flight and Minas Mor-go rose from the ground, drifting slowly through the air towards the river. Every few moments, the Witch-king sent an orc to peer down the tower stairs to check on the balrog. It was risky business. One in every few orcs was grabbed by the balrog's long whip darting out of the bowels of Minas Mor-go, and the orc would be dragged screaming into the city's basements.
"Hurry up! Faster!" shouted the Witch-king, "We're losing orcs!"
Soon the city was over the river. "Dive, dive, dive!" the Witch-king commanded. The city was carefully lowered, and it dipped into the river. Everything remained silent. Soon a deep gurgle was heard as water seeped into the city's lowest dungeons. And then there was violent splashing, and a deep roar rumbled through the floors. Steam billowed from every window. Soon the entire city was wrapped in the misty steam.
"The balrog! Its flames have been put out!" said #4. "My idea worked!"
"Ahem, my idea," said Khamûl. He then turned to an orc. "You there! Go see what's happened to the balrog."
The orc nodded meekly, and crept towards a door in the side of the main tower. With one frightened look back at the Ringwraiths, he disappeared into the steam.
Minutes passed. #3 checked his watch. Khamûl yawned. #s 6-8 began a game of poker. The Witch-king frowned, having realized he had left his paperback novel in the steamy towers.
Finally, the orc's blood-curdling screams were heard. His footsteps echoed from the steamy doorway, and finally he appeared and flung himself on the floor outside the tower. He was dripping wet and a foul-scented mud had smeared his ragged clothes.
"The balrog!" he shouted, "It's alive! And it's coming!"
"Impossible!" said the Witch-king, "We've drowned it!"
"No! It still lives! But as a thing of mud and slime! He follows me! He saw me in the steam, and he lunged after me! O, he is coming here and we are doomed!"
"Quiet, fool!" the Witch-king commanded, "Now tell me, did it have wings?"
"It was too steamy to tell!"
"Oh well," said the Witch-king, "But there are more important things to attend to! Like how we're going to deal with the balrog once it arrives."
"I have an idea," said #4. "When the balrog arrives on the walls, we can just tip the city to one side. The balrog will slip and fall into the river below."
"Sounds like a last resort to me. What else can we come up with?"
"Well," said Khamûl, stepping forward, "When the balrog arrives, we can just tip the city to one side. The balrog will slip and fall into the river below."
"That was my idea!" #4 said, "You stole my idea, again!"
"Quiet, #4. Stop accusing Khamûl of idea-theft just because his ideas are better than yours." #4 crossed his arms and sulked. Khamûl stuck his tongue out at him. "And now we can just wait for the balrog," said the Witch-king, "As soon as the balrog appears, I want the flying beasts on the opposite side of the city to fly higher. The city will tilt and we'll be rid of that balrog."
And so the Ringwraiths and orcs waited in quiet anticipation. The grouped to either side of the doorway and the predicted path the balrog would take as he slipped. They could hear the balrog's gurgling roars deep inside Minas Mor-go. As each moment passed, the roaring grew louder, and the squelch-squelch-squelch of the balrog's footsteps were heard. Soon its wet, slimey head appeared in the doorway, roaring, and it reached out with a slippery claw.
"Aaagh! It wants me!" shouted the orc-scout.
"Now! Now! Tilt the city!" shouted the Witch-king.
The city lurched to one side and the Ringwraiths grabbed whatever solid, sturdy thing they could get their hands on. The balrog slipped head-first out of the doorway, over the walls, and he splashed into the water, followed by a handful of orcs. The city righted itself, and the Ringwraiths peered over the walls. The balrog slowly sunk to the bottom of the river, splashing and clawing at the orcs in the river.
"Well, he's taken care of!" said the Witch-king. After a quick head-count to make sure no Ringwraiths had fallen into the river, the Witch-king declared which direction the city would move in next.
"I say we head north!" he shouted. The flying beasts pulled the dripping city out of the river, and off they went.
* * *
For three days, there were strange reports across Eriador of a marvelous rain cloud. It flew with amazing speed, and, by some atmospheric phenomenon, it always seemed to look like a castle to all witnesses.