Chapter XXIV: Clash of the Titans

"Who disturbeth me?" the demon rumbled in ancient Black Speech as the orcs scattered, their silhouettes standing out against the raging inferno that the balrog had called to cage in the creatures.

"Oiale'kula1," Mordae spat as he hurled his bow, which had burst into flames, into the chasm.

Celebdraug nodded as she drew her own flaming sword, "Oiale'kula."

The balrog moved away from the blazing mine shaft and into the thick of the orcs, battering through their lines with ten times the ease that Mordae and Celebdraug had.

Celebdraug waited until she could no longer see the beast's tail before leaping off of the glowing metal balcony and grabbing the wall of the mine.

Mordae followed her, and together, they scaled the short distance to the main cavern, where the balrog was finishing its work with the orcs.

The two elves sprinted for all they were worth toward the nearest sub-cavern entrance, hoping to escape the wrath of the demon by slipping past it when it was distracted.

Just before they reached the flame wreathed opening, however, there was an intense blast of heat and a gut-wrenching laugh.

Mordae dropped to the ground as he felt the balrog sweep over him, flying on its bat-like wings. Celebdraug, on the other hand, whirled to face it, crying out in Quenya, the language of Valinor.

"Daro', e'vell esse a Eru!2"

The balrog let out an earsplitting shriek and landed heavily on the charred stones of the cavern floor.

"Thou defies me?" the balrog asked in an almost amused tone. "Thou hast not the power to control that which thee attempts to command."

"N'uma, noss uum. Dara' vell Seldar mano osse tu caela her'vanwa Varda ar'Udun3!" Mordae cried as he rose from the heated ground, his face blackened and cloak smoldering, and ran to Celebdraug's side.

"Thy God has power over nothing. Where is he now? Dost thou see him?" the balrog shifted its gaze to all sides for a moment, as if searching for Illúvatar's presence.

"I see him not. And he shall save thee not. Thy God is dead, and soon," the demon raised its sword high above its head and started toward the elves, "Thou shall join him."

Mordae laughed haughtily and tossed his shoulder length hair back as he raised his sword in return. "Osse naiva faain dos lith n'alaquel a'Udun4," he growled, beginning to advance on the balrog, his sword glowing.

"E'dos tanar'ri'fia a'vell ia5!" Celebdraug added, her sword gleaming as well as she sprinted ahead of Mordae with a battle cry.

The balrog roared, and the three collided with a thunderclap that shook the mines to the core.

Turdú watched as Dilotè marched slowly through the body-strewn battlefield of New Edoras as the sun sank behind the hills. The battle had been over in less than two hours, leaving thousands of Fellowship soldiers dead with very few Remnant losses. Now, his Captain moved methodically through the dead and dying, finishing the work that was begun on those who were wounded with a quick stab of her samurai sword.

Turdú was almost repulsed by the coldness with which she carried out her ritual. The Halda'ohtar had strange traditions, one of which was to leave no enemies wounded on the battlefield. Another, which Turdú had saved Dilotè from, was the honor killing. If she failed a mission or was captured, Dilotè would attempt to take her own life in shame.

The General shook his head as Dilotè came to the final cluster of soldiers that she had not looked over. She paused, her gaze sweeping slowly over the men. After a moment, she strode swiftly over to one of the bodies, held her sword over her head, blade pointing toward the ground, and thrust it downward in a quick stabbing motion as she dropped to one knee. As she knelt beside the body, Dilotè raised her sword toward the setting sun and swung it in an odd pattern.

Upon finishing her ceremony, Dilotè jogged back across the field of the dead to stand beside Turdú, who gave her a strange look, despite his efforts not to.

"What?"

Turdú swallowed, "Nothing, Captain."

Dilotè looked slightly hurt. "Sir, I know it may seem odd to you, but my traditions are my life."

The General nodded nearly imperceptibly. "Would thee be interested in coming to my quarters to speak tonight?"

Dilotè sighed at Turdú's refusal to use elvish. "I would be, sir, as long as we can use elvish."

"That is one thing I wish to speak about. Yes, we can speak elvish, if that will be reason enough for thee to come."

Dilotè smiled, "I shall see you in an hour then, sir."

Turdú nodded and returned the smile half-heartedly, still a bit shaken from seeing Dilotè's performance. "An hour."

"Gandalf!!" Glorfindel practically screamed as he sprinted through Lorien, "Gandalf!!"

The Silvan elf skidded around the corner of another ramp and nearly collided with Niphredil, his girlfriend.

"Glorfindel! What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

He turned and faced the slender, blonde-haired elf maiden. "It's Mordae and Celebdraug. They're in major trouble."

"Trouble?"

Glorfindel took hold of her hand and continued racing down the streets, dragging her along with him.

A few moments later, the pair located Gandalf, who was standing speaking to Dacil and Athfaë.

"Gandalf!" Glorfindel and Niphredil cried in unison.

"What is it?" the wizard asked, turning slowly to Niphredil.

"I actually do not know," she said, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's Mordae and Celebdraug!" Glorfindel panted, his normally light skin even whiter than usual. "There's a...a..."

"Ambush?" Athfaë offered.

"Army?" Dacil suggested.

"Hobbit?" Niphredil said with a small smile.

"Balrog!" Glorfindel screamed.

Niphredil turned a blinding shade of white, and wrapped herself around Glorfindel's arm. Gandalf nearly dropped his staff. Athfaë and Dacil merely looked at one another.

"They are not real," Athfaë chided as though speaking to a small child.

The two elves glared at the humans.

"Foolish children," Niphredil hissed.

"That's what I said, and he got mad at me," Glorfindel whispered to her, nodding accusingly at Gandalf.

Gandalf ignored him and began running as fast as he could toward the Udunaedos' house.

"Follow children, and see for yourselves what myths are capable of," Niphredil murmured, pulling Glorfindel closer to her. "And pray to whatever god thou serves that Mordae and Celebdraug do not suffer too much."

1 Most vulgar word in the elvish vocabulary

2 Halt, in the name of Illúvatar

3 No, we do not. But the God we serve has power over Heaven and Hell

4 We will send your ashes back to Hell

5 And your soul to the Abyss