Chapter 4- A fight commences

Special thanks to Sarima O' the Evil Bushes for advising me as to the Mary Sueish nature of Llyraen's tale, I re-read it and agreed. I hope to fix that situation within this chapter, but one can only hope. Oh yeah, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to Claire, I'm not Sarima, but she does help me edit this story of mine (Excuuuuuuuuuse me! Llyraen wants to inform you that she does not approve of me taking the credit for what she wrote. I get to type everything this time because she's injured. I think she broke her arm whilst evacuating a car she crashed. Never mind. That's not the case, but she won't tell me what happened. Anyway.)
Consider the Disclaimer delivered, I HATE writing those things. Everyone knows the moon is made of cheese! Yeah. Llyraen's back. She's decided I need to get a life and let HER write HER story. Some people (elves are people right?)
In this chapter there is a jolly old fight a jolly old chase, and a jolly old cannibalistic feast (just kidding, almost.) Anyway. Here comes the story.

Llyraen yawned, blinked a couple of times, and bounced up off the couch she had fallen onto, fully dressed, to try and get some sleep. After discussing the ramifications of the extraneous glove for hours, they had come to the conclusion that, as he had demonstrated on previous occasions, Lorcan Dhu liked adding extra details to the extent that anything he did became tawdry and tacky. Keighvin suspected that he had added the glove as a reminder that he was out for blood, and also as a tool for inducing them to become edgy and nervous, more so than usual, about the upcoming confrontation, and to keep them up all night discussing it. Keighvin made that his closing statement, and the four had stayed at Fairgove to get what sleep they could. Llyraen, being an early riser by nature and by choice, had gotten approximately one hour of sleep, and woken up at 5:00 AM, feeling, for the first time in her life, like she wanted to sleep more, but couldn't and besides, she had work to do. She was nearly finished with putting the Victor back together; all she needed to do was screw in a couple more bolts. Of course, the complete disassembly of the car was not necessary to change the oil, a simple operation, but she had been hearing some odd noises, and besides, she had been curious. Walking into the Kitchen of the emergency residence quarters, she was confronted by a frowning Keighvin.
"Damn it Seaeyes, go back to sleep. It's not even Six yet! Do I need to assign you a nursemaid?"
"But I always get up early! I can't help it! And I need to finish putting the Victor back together." She protested feebly, knowing that she needed more than one hour of sleep it she was going to be at her best for the fight later on.
Keighvin echoed her thoughts, shaking a finger at her sternly. "We need you at you're best this evening. And that includes getting enough sleep. I myself am just going to post the day's assignments for the rest of the folks, then go back to bed. We don't know what happens to your aim when you're tired, but if you're anything like Tannim we want you either fully rested or safely in another country. Now turn around and return to that couch. Oh, and you don't need to worry about Aodhfin, I've got someone listed for fodder duty. Sleep." As Llyraen blinked dazedly and tried to assimilate that information, he turned and strode off, assignments in hand, muttering about morning people.
When she woke for the second time that day, Llyraen was fully rested and utterly horrified to discover that it was already noon. The cheerful noises floating on the crisp autumn air informed her that rest of the racetrack was awake and busy. She jumped off of the couch and raced off to the shower, grabbing a towel, washcloth, and assorted soaps off the piles that were stacked everywhere in the outer room. Closing the door and flipping the 'busy' sign, she proceeded to turn on the shower at a very hot, very high temperature and level, and become unhealthily clean. Once out of the shower she dried herself off, kenned some clothes, and dashed off to the kitchen for a piece of toast and a glass of milk. After it's hectic start, the day passed in a blur of cars, bolts, cars, and more cars for Llyraen, she finished reassembling the Victor, drove several test runs, was teased mercilessly for sleeping in, and tried to help Tannim fix his precious Mustang. While they worked, he satisfied her curiosity about the Victor, she hadn't seen it since she had left before it was more than some scribbles on paper.
"It was Donal's pet project." He began, saddening momentarily at the memory of his friend's death. "He was always polishing off imaginary specks, fixing minor or imaginary mechanical problems, you know what I mean. He wouldn't let anyone but the most trusted people even touch it."
"Meaning he's have been appalled that I of all people drove it." Llyraen grinned wryly. She had by now discovered the true extent to which her reputation had spread, and was torn between amusement and horror.
"No, I think he would have let you drive it, you know you're stuff. Anyway, now Conal's the thing's most devoted worshiper and slave. By the way, he nearly had a nervous breakdown when you reduced the whole bottom half of it to little pieces of super light metal. I had to remind him that you were in on planning it before he could do anything but twitch." His voice held a distinctly reproving edge to it.
"Shit. I'll have to apologize to him about that. You know I can't stand not knowing how something works! Oh well. I'll try to keep my hands to myself."
"Yeah well, you being so goddamn perfect and all, I'm sure he'll forgive you. Now if I were the one messing with his precious car, I'd be disemboweled and slow roasting over a fire by now. So tell me, is there anything you're NOT good at? I mean, you being the resident expert warrior, mage, driver, card player, fast talker, musician, runner, and actress, beside being the most cold iron resistant Sidhe this side of the universe."
"You forgot Figher Pilot." Llyraen announced as Tannim mimed throttling the air in front of him. "Actually, I can't cook, dance, write poetry, use microwaves, dishwashers, ovens, or any other kitchen appliances besides a toaster. I have a talent for getting injured, attracting trouble, I can't stay anywhere for very long, sit down for very long, listen to long and pompous speeches without rudely interrupting them with a bagpipe, I'm a morning person, probably the worst of my crimes, the list goes on. I have difficulty accepting authority too. I went through the human education system JUST FOR FUN, and I got into more trouble than all the other kids combined."
Tannim snickered. "I had no idea. I stand corrected and consider myself an enlightened being. I had head you had been in the slow roasting situation once or twice yourself, and had to do some fast-talking. Now I'm guessing it's been more than once or twice."
At Llyraen's solemn nod of affirmation, he cackled evilly again. "Jeeze. Pass me that wrench would you, we're almost done here."
Llyraen slowed down and edged warily around the corner of the building, alert of the smallest sign of motion. She and Tannim had finished on the Mustang, and after apologizing to Conal for messing with his beloved car, she had spent the next half an hour on the run, hiding from Conal himself, who, wielding an extraordinarily dangerous looking fire poker, had chased her around the racetrack, howling insults at her, and promising dire retributions once he caught her. Tannim had not been lying about Conal's cooking abilities, he had gone over about a hundred slow roasting methods and was still going strong, It seemed he knew all the ways to roast a miscreant elf alive. Their fellow mechanics had seemed quite amused last Llyraen had seen them, rolling on the ground and howling as if they were about to wet their pants. Many of them shouted encouragements to one elf or another, egging them on to greater 'achievements'. Suddenly spotting Conal coming around the corner behind her, she ducked behind a trashcan and jumped out onto his back when he came around.
"Surrender to the dark side of the force!" She gasped, quoting Star Wars, one of the movies she knew he had seen. "Besides, it's getting late."
"Alright, I surrender. You're just lucky I haven't been training for running like you." He gasped back, equally if not more winded than she was. They walked back out to the track amidst cheers. Conal had an odd glint in his eyes so Llyraen apprehended the fire poker just incase, which brought more laughter from the throng.
"Here we come, bringing joy to the masses." She sang, bowing eloquently again and again.
As it neared 4:30, the previous excitement had settled down to be replaced by an new one as people began cleaning up from their various activities and pulled silk wrapped weapons from the oddest places. Llyraen summoned her armor, and sword, Feidhlim, and went to find Dotty to bombard her with questions about previous battles, Fairgrove's defenses, the humans' involvement, what kind of weapons would be most efficient, what kind of strategy Dotty was expecting, until Dotty finally just told her to shut up. While Dotty finished preparing for the imminent combat, she wandered off to find Aodhfin whom she hadn't seen since checking in on him that morning. Finding that he was well and ready to go, she sadly told him that she probably wouldn't be able to take him into the battle, the night before, Keighvin had suggested that previous engagements with Lorcan Dhu's forces showed that they liked to take the mounts out first, since that invariably disabled the rider long enough for them to get in. Aodhfin didn't like it, but accepted it when she promised to go riding sometime soon.
"You know Aodhfin," She smiled conspiratorially at him, "All the bad guys seem to like the surname 'Dhu'! Of course," She added hastily as Keighvin's elvensteed Rosaleen Dhu snorted, "Not everyone with that name is a bad guy. I stand corrected." She half bowed to Rosaleen and Aodhfin and waved jauntily. " I must be away now. The council of war will else start without me."
When she returned to the main building, she drifted over to Dotty who was toting a howitzer that Llyraen had no doubts she knew how to use. Llyraen could tell by the way she was handling it and made a mental note never to get on Dotty's bad side.
Keighvin rapped out instructions and placements, calm, cool, and collected till the last. Finally, after what seemed to Llyraen to be ages, he got to her. "Llyraen, you're going with Conal on the left so you can get an idea of the layout without being under direct fire. Alright, have I missed anyone?" He waited for someone to speak up, expecting none, and getting none. After a minute he continued. "Well then. No friendly fire, and no suicidal hero crap. Right?"
"Right!" Everyone shouted in unison, rushing out to take their places.
"Llyraen! Wait a moment will you?" Keighvin reached her where she stood by the door. "That ban on heroics goes for you too. If someone's in trouble, help them. If there's an opening, take it, just as long as you think you can get out alive." She nodded, saluted him, and clapped him on the arm before joining Conal.
An explosion just outside the gates set off the alarms again, and as they hurried to their positions, the enemy approached the inner gates.
"Shiiiiiiiit." Conal exhaled on a slow whistle. Llyraen knew what he meant. Goblins, hordes of them, were marching through the outer gates, firing arrows and other projectiles at the building and it's defenders. After them came trolls, and other assorted creatures, all large, swinging giant battle axes into the fray. Following them came Unseleigh Elven Warriors, toting swords, spears, and elven bolts, these were followed by the tree mages.
Conal ducked behind a tree just as an elven bolt thudded into the ground where he had been standing seconds before. Llyraen kenned her bow and quiver of elven bolts at the same time as he did, and they let loose a volley into the midst of the horde. Llyraen noticed that the humans in the woods were taking down a good number of the multitude with their iron spewing machine guns, and an earth-shattering roar that could only be Dotty's howitzer, then there was no time for anything but fighting.
Keighvin had planned for them to major engagement, but it was not so as Conal motioned for another volley of bolts, and as they let loose, a group of Elven Knights broke off from the main host and galloped towards them as if it had been planned. Swearing softly, Conal and Llyraen moved back to back and faced the circling Knights. Feinting suddenly, the whole circle closed in, swinging their sickly glowing blades in deadly patterns, sweeping and thrusting, charging and retreating in a macabre dance.
"It'll take more than eight of you bastards to bring us down!" Llyraen snarled, parrying a blow from one of the riders. She twisted her blade, and with a flick sent her adversary's flying into the night. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, she hit him with a blast of raw power, and he toppled slowly from his elvensteed who snorted and jumped out of the way. Behind her she could hear Conal dispatching another rider, and realized that they were not in the best of positions, back to back, for hand to hand fighting since she fought mostly with her left arm and he with his right, they left an entire side open to their enemies. The air crackled with power, and rang with the clashing of weapons. Looking up at the rider that had taken her fallen opponent's place, Llyraen blanched. She remembered that face, those eyes, from her childhood. She was fighting Lorcan Dhu, and elven warrior and mage with centuries more experience than her. His sword flashing like lightening, he stabbed her right arm between the plates of her armor. She winced, but continued fighting, painfully bringing up her right arm to hurl a ball of fire at him, which he banished with appalling ease. She parried the powerful downward arc of his sword with strength born of desperation. In slow motion, she saw his blade slide along her own, and watched as the impact with her hilt jarred Feidhlim out of her hand. As he pulled back to deliver the final blow, she kenned a great double bladed battle axe and slammed it into his blade, the momentum carrying it up through the hilt, deflecting slightly and plunging into his shoulder. As she let go of the giant weapon, it fell free of his arm and thudded into the ground and he wheeled and galloped away, his arm hanging limply at his side.
Llyraen tried to turn around to help Conal, but tripped over a fallen elf. In her dazed state, she was vaguely surprised at the number of bodies lying around her feet, all obviously Unseleigh. She hadn't remembered fighting more than more than two knights, and she had remembered only eight approaching them, and there were easily three times that many, with Lorcan Dhu appearing to be the only one to get away. Conal was in about the same shape as she was, his sword was missing too, and he had several minor cuts that were bleeding profusely, and his left arm was hanging at an odd angle. Supporting each other, they staggered through the carnage, stopping first to dislodge Feidhlim from the ground where it had fallen, and then to retrieve Conal's blade from the tree in which it had been embedded. Leaning heavily against each other, they continued back to the main complex, swords at the ready, and only then did they notice that the sounds of battle had completely faded, and the air was preternaturally still. Stumbling out of the trees, they made it a few more steps before sinking unconscious to the ground. As she retreated into the darkness of oblivion, Llyraen was dimly aware of someone hurrying towards them and bending over them, murmuring their names.