Chapter XXIII: Evil Awakens

Across the planes of Isen Meares snaked a long, green, tidal wave of men bearing weapons of all kinds, each soldier tense and ready for battle. Aragost marched at the head of the group, sword drawn, his eyes darting nervously about as they drew nearer to New Edoras. His ears strained for the sound of distant hoof beats that would betray one of the dreaded Venyarohirrim ambush cavalry groups.

As they drew within sight of the city, Aragost turned and made eye contact with the Captain of the Infantry, Valandil. The other man, a bit over two meters, wiry, and neatly shaven, raised his eyebrows, "Yes, sir?"

"Something's wrong," Aragost said quietly.

"Wrong, sir?"

"We should have been detected by now. Have you not realized that we have not encountered a single Venyarohirrim on this whole march?"

The Captain screwed up his face, thinking, "Good point, sir." He turned to Eorlmer, who marched on the other side of Aragost in Dacil's place. "Is this customary of the Venyarohirrim?"

"To not respond to an attack? Not to my knowledge," Eorlmer remarked, drawing his sword, "Something is definitely wrong."

As the three marched over the crest of the final hill leading to the valley where New Edoras sat, they suddenly drew back in horror. The western side of the plains before the city was whitewashed and charred, strewn with bodies of black armored figures. But what was even more terrifying was the sea of black armor that waited on the eastern side. Two thousand Drow elites raised their glittering black blades, and crying in their ancient tongue, they surged forward at the Fellowship army.

Sprinting at the head of the elites, one samurai sword in hand, Dilotè licked her lips at the prospect of the massacre that was sure to be the result of the attack. She had to admit, though sometimes Mornië grated on her, he was a brilliant general.

As she drew closer to the fleeing figures which she assumed were the commanders of the army, the Drow reached behind herself and drew a three-pronged sai from her belt. With all her might, she hurled it into the lower half of one of the men's leg, dropping him, screaming, to the ground. Dilotè launched herself into the air a few meters behind her fallen target, landing with her legs straddling over his back. She spun her black sword, then unceremoniously plunged it into him.

"I got first kill!" she shouted to Turdú as he raced past. He spun, mock glared at her, then smashed into the fleeing Fellowship.

Glorfindel jogged happily up one of the many tree paths in Lorien toward Mordae and Celebdraug's house. He reached it quickly, and entered without knocking, as though he lived there.

The Silvan elf knew that his Noldorian companions were not home, but he also knew that he could contact them via the palantír that they kept in one of the long spires atop their house.

It was to this spire that Glorfindel made his way to, pausing only to admire the new items from the South that had been added to the Udunaedos' collection. Upon entering the tower, he uncovered the palantír and placed his palm on it. His elven mind had no difficulty unlocking the power of the orb, and he soon felt his mind whirling over the snow capped Misty Mountains, spiraling into the rubble of the Moria gate, and finally shooting through the dark tunnels of the mine, his gaze coming to rest at an aerial view of some seven hundred orcs with scores of cave trolls gathered around a large shaft in a huge cavern.

Glorfindel was confused for a moment; the palantír usually brought him straight to where Mordae and Celebdraug were. His bewilderment ended a moment later as he spotted two black figures rappelling at an insane pace down the face of the wall beside the orcs.

He smiled as he reached out and touched Mordae's mind with his own. Boo.

Glorfindel! What's up, my man! Mordae's baritone voice echoed through Glorfindel's head.

Got kicked out of a meeting. I didn't want to be there anyway.

Yay Glorfindel! Celebdraug's cried as she joined the two.

Check this move out, Mordae said as he launched himself away from the wall a few meters up from the ground. He back flipped in mid-air, landing atop one of the brutish cave troll's heads. The troll had no time to react before Mordae fired an arrow down the creature's spine, causing it to topple over onto a dozen of the smaller orcs.

The reaction was immediate, and almost amusing. The terrified and puzzled orcs scattered in every direction, shrieking at the top of their lungs. Many drew blades, but there were no enemies in sight.

The chamber grew almost silent as Celebdraug leaped gracefully off the face of the wall, igniting her sword as she fell. The glow of the flames was mesmerizing, and all activity ceased; at least until she landed, swung, and slew a half dozen of the mystified orcs.

Chaos took hold again as Mordae lit his own blade, the light nearly blinding those in close proximity to him. The elf whipped his sword over his head and swung hard, cleaving through three orcs and a piece of mining equipment, causing it to fall onto several more of the shrieking creatures.

Celebdraug swung her sword back and forth as if hacking through a thick forest, flinging orc bodies left and right as she drove toward the center of the cavern where the shaft sat. Hundreds of orcs boiled from unseen passageways as their comrades were slaughtered by the assault of the two elves. The new arrivals began sending showers of arrows into the churning horde beneath, felling more of their kindred and rarely coming close to the Noldor. The battle's outcome was obvious; none could bring down the elves.

'If only we had one hundred warriors such as these two, we could destroy the Drow in a week,' Glorfindel mused to himself.

Flattered, truly, Mordae replied as he hurled another piece of equipment into a dozen orcs, crushing them.

Glorfindel swore. The elves could hear his every thought as long as they were connected through the palantír.

Celebdraug's laugh filled his ears, It's okay, Glorfindel, don't cry.

Don't get your head cut off by that big orc behind you.

Celebdraug whirled around, slicing the oversized orc standing behind her.

Thanks.

No problem.

The elves battered their way to the edge of the shaft, then, turned and broke through to one another. They made eye contact, slew a few more of their pursuers, and leaped over the edge.

Celebdraug grabbed the lip of a balcony as she dropped past and swung onto it, Mordae landing beside her. The orcs above began firing arrows at the two, who returned fire with their own bows.

A thousand meters below them, a half dozen cave trolls wielding massive hammers and picks continued the excavation of the chasm. The work was brutal, but they carried on without complaint.

As the troll in the middle removed his pick from the ground, a harsh red light burst through the hole it made. Without a thought, the creature leaned back and struck again, widening the fissure and increasing the brilliant glare. Another one of the brutes, attracted by the light, smashed his pick into the break, this time, bringing an unearthly rumble along with the flood of light.

Celebdraug dropped her bow to the ground as, deep in the recesses of her mind, the sound registered with a terrifying familiarity.

"Mother of Morgoth..." she whispered.

Mordae ducked behind the arrow-ridden plank they were using for cover and looked at Celebdraug. His face was streaked with sweat, blood, and dirt, but he looked happy, glad to be in the fight. "What is it?"

The trolls beat the rocks again, and this time, an intense wave of heat, a deafening roar, and a blazing red glow issued from the pit.

Mordae's happy grin faded immediately.

Illúvatar save you! Glorfindel cried, the mind link shattering as his extreme fear broke the connection.

Rising from the chasm, flaming whip and sword at the ready, flew an ancient creature that lived on only in the nightmares of those few who had seen one and survived. With a sweep of its sword, two score of the orcs vanished, and another three score ignited from the heat. The beast landed at the lip of the shaft and let out a deep bellow, calling down a pillar of flame that incinerated another hundred of the orcs, who were now completely out of their minds with terror.

Mordae and Celebdraug's fear filled eyes met, and Mordae whispered one word, a cry echoed from ages past heard by far too many a good elf.

"Balrog."