Chapter VII: A Glimpse of the Past
Mordae gathered himself for a moment on the wall where he stood watching the approaching horde. He had watched as the vampires stole his prey from him, seeming unable to move. As soon as the Drow had disappeared, Mordae had charged at the creatures, intent on striking them down where they stood. However, the vampires' reflexes nearly rivaled that of the elves, and he had only been able to slash the leader across the face before the creature disappeared. Celebdraug had been able to use the distraction to kill one of the others, his ashes scattering over the wall, but the last had escaped as well.
Mordae grinned and looked at Celebdraug as the orcs cried, a sound that chilled most beings.
"Battle time," she said, returning his smile.
Mordae raised his bow and began firing into the oncoming sea of black that threatened to sweep away the whole city.
The dark forces surged forward, hindered only by the arrows from the two elves. Despite the constant barrage they fired, Celebdraug and Mordae knew they would barely make a dent in the attack.
Before long, a small legion of surviving soldiers rallied to the gate below the elves' position, drew their swords, and stood waiting, faces white.
Mordae stopped firing and turned to the highest-ranking officer.
"Is this all that thou can supply?" he shouted down to him. "Are there not more soldiers that can fight?"
The officer shook his head.
Celebdraug nocked three more arrows and fired them, tracing their trajectories into three unfortunate uruks in the front lines. She turned and spoke to the officer as well.
"We will take anyone who can hold a weapon. Any assistance will be useful."
The officer nodded and barked orders to several of the soldiers, who left and returned shortly, bringing a few more men and women carrying surplus swords.
Celebdraug shook her head slightly.
These people are pathetic.
Doomed, Mordae answered.
You said it.
She sighed and raised her sword, flames licking down the blade. Her voice was amplified as she cried out to the terrified soldiers.
"We stand here as our kindred have stood a hundredfold times, outnumbered and staring death itself in the face! But I say to you, that we shall triumph, as they did! Orc and Drow shall fall at thy feet! Stand firm, and fight!"
The officer, encouraged by Celebdraug's optimism, cried out to his troops, "Forth, Eorlinglas!"
The elves leaped down from the wall, landing lightly in front of the Venyarohirrim, facing the city gate.
There was a dull thud as the orc battering ram struck the gate, and the walls shook slightly. The orcs cried out, and again, the ram shook the walls. With a final cry and a final blow, the gates of New Edoras succumbed to the dark forces, and the men and elves surged forward to meet their foes in battle.
In the front of the small resistance force of men, Celebdraug rushed forward alongside Mordae, her flaming sword raised, screaming a war cry at the top of her lungs. She could feel the adrenaline rush of battle surge through her; she could taste the fear and surprise of the orcs in the front line at the gate.
She reached the orcs, tensed, and swung her sword. The blade cleaved through four orcs in front of her, and then she was surrounded. Back slashing, she slew two more of the foul creatures. The ring of her sword and the hiss of the black blood evaporating in the heat of the flame echoed around her as she fought. With another swing, she felled three more assailants.
Expendables, Celebdraug said to Mordae.
Fun, he answered.
Mordae smashed his left fist into a nearby orc's face while he thrust his blade into another to his right. Spinning, he drew the sword from the chest of his victim and crushed yet another enemy's throat with a chopping blow of his hand. The elf twirled his sword in a quick arc, slicing the heads from two more attackers.
Mordae smiled despite the situation as he watched Celebdraug raise her sword ludicrously high and smash an orc over his comrades. Her brutal attacks, though sometimes overkills, were always very impressive. Seeing the success the elves were having on the surrounding army, the men were rallied and charged forward, adding their swords to the assault.
Grishnákh growled as he neared the gate with his battalion of uruk-hai. He peered over the top of the smaller orcs through the opening in the wall. The orc could see a few of his troops running through the city behind the defenders, but noticed a large mass of his men's bodies just beyond the gate where the two elves Vrayon had been complaining about stood their ground.
'Good,' Grishnákh thought to himself; he wanted to watch them die.
He analyzed the situation, then roared to his elite men, "Kill the one with the lightning sword!"
Celebdraug watched as the incoming uruks drove toward Mordae. She looked out over the black horde to the orc captain, distinguished by the golden 'r' rune, rather than the red of the standard Remnant soldiers.
As she continued her assault with her sword, Celebdraug shot her left hand to her wrist and withdrew a twenty-centimeter long, double bladed throwing knife.
She locked eyes with the orc, then hurled the blade over the heads of his minions. Before the knife had even hit, she had returned her attention back to the assault.
Grishnákh had barely enough time to move slightly to avoid the elf's deadly attack. He threw his head back and roared in pain as the knife shattered his armor and drove between his shoulder and neck. His uruks, seeing their leader injured, roared in angry response, surging toward their commander's attacker.
Behind them, Grishnákh cursed to himself as he stumbled back toward the command tent, gritting his teeth against the pain as he removed the elven dagger from his shoulder. Obviously, he alone could not bring the Noldor down.
"Nice shot, Celebdraug."
She turned in surprise to see Mordae standing behind her.
"Where'd you come from?" she asked, in bewilderment after slashing one orc in half and kicking away another.
"Well, when a mommy elf and a daddy elf fall in love..."
"Shut up," Celebdraug answered with a smile.
Mordae grinned, then thrust his sword over her shoulder. Celebdraug heard an orc shriek, and glanced down his blade to see it embedded solidly in one of the creature's faces.
"I could've taken him," she said, twirling around and blocking another attack with such ferocity that it shattered her opponent's sword. She grinned viciously at the orc, then drove her blade into his chest.
"Not with his sword in your stomach." her cousin answered, sweeping past her and smashing his shoulder into a large uruk, causing it to fall backward and crush several of the smaller orcs around it.
Celebdraug whipped a dagger from her belt and slit another fell creature's throat with it, and then flung the body into Mordae, who spun around and sliced it in half, then stabbed the body before he realized it was already dead.
"Not cool."
Celebdraug stuck her tongue out at him, then turned away and looked at the ragtag company of men that still survived.
She looked back to Mordae, who was busy taunting three uruk soldiers, all of whom looked incredibly angry with him.
Charge? she asked.
He jumped lightly over the three uruk-hai's heads, doing a front flip and a half rotation in midair, then with a flex of his rippling muscles beneath his bloodstained black cloak, slashed his sword through all three of the creatures' heads before they could turn around.
Showoff.
He ignored her, took a quick look at the forces they still had, and then answered, Why not? I'll sound it.
She nodded in conformation.
Raising his glowing sword to the sky, Mordae cried out the ancient Noldorian battle cry not heard for nearly two ages in battle, "Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalie an Atári! Utúlie'n aurë!"1
The men took heart at the sight of the heroes, looking something like a glorious picture from the history books, but did not respond, unsure of what to do.
Celebdraug turned to them, a venomous smile on her face, eyes glowing with a red fire, and translated simply; "Charge."
1 The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and fathers of men! The day has come!
