Chapter XXV: Doom of the Abyss
There was a rap on Turdú's door just as darkness had settled over the land. He looked up sharply, then recalled his invitation to Dilotè. Rising, the Drow strode over the door and opened it, revealing his Captain.
"Mae govannen, Turdú."
"Welcome, please come in."
The woman wore a loose black kimono, with her swords hanging to her left side. Her hair was up in the style that she wore whenever she went into battle, but it had obviously been washed since the last battle.
"You look nice," Turdú stuttered, feeling stupid as soon as he had.
Dilotè snorted in dismissal of the comment, "Military genius. Military."
Turdú smiled weakly.
"Anyway," his Captain said, "What is this meeting all about?"
Turdú shut the door and walked slowly to his small sitting area, gesturing toward the couches. "I just wanted to spend some time together when we weren't involved with the war."
Dilotè walked behind him and sat, legs folded, in one of the couches. "Time together?"
Turdú sat across from her and folded his hands, "Yes. I have found your company to be quite enjoyable."
"Oh," Dilotè said with a small laugh, "When you put it that way."
The Drow General shook his head, "I am so bad at this."
"Yes."
He laughed slightly, "Thank you."
The aroma of dark-elven foods began to waft from the small kitchen in Turdú's quarters. He looked up, then rose. "Just in time, if I may say so."
Dilotè rose as well, smiling, but saying nothing.
The two brought the food to the General's table and sat, Dilotè expertly swinging her sheathed swords so that they rested across the back of her chair.
"Why did you bring those?" Turdú asked, gesturing toward her blades.
"Habit. We always wear our swords."
Turdú raised his eyebrows. "You must tell me more about where you come from. Your people fascinate me."
Dilotè smiled, "I bet." She began to serve herself from the food atop the table. "The Halda'ohtar are a very secretive people. Our ancestors were the head of the Imperial government, which, as I'm sure you know about, fell approximately four-thousand years ago to the military."
Turdú nodded, "I was in that war."
Dilotè raised her eyebrows and smiled evilly, "I hope you didn't kill any of my ancestors, or I'd have to strike you down right here in revenge."
Turdú laughed, "I fought for the Emperor, of course."
The Drow maiden, reached slowly over her shoulder toward her swords. "Of course you did," she said teasingly, dropping her hand back into her lap.
"Anyway, after the Empire fell, the royalty went into hiding. They began to train their children as Halda'ohtar, which were the Emperor's elite guard during his rule, in hopes that some day we could retake the throne."
"But you haven't," Turdú stated, "In fact, I think I've met three of you in my entire life. There are currently less than fifty enlisted in the Remnant."
"Because many of us see the Remnant as the government that overthrew our ancestors," Dilotè countered.
Turdú nodded, "Understandable. Do you?"
"No. I feel it would be better to unite under the Remnant banner rather than stay divided. I don't like the restrictions on tradition, however."
"Such as the speaking of elvish," Turdú offered.
"Yes. And that we have to wear Remnant armor, rather than our anga'tavar1."
"But the Remnant armor is one-hundred percent stronger than your anga'tavar armor," Turdú argued, "That means that you have half the chance of getting killed."
"And it's also restricting. And cold, unnatural."
"True," Turdú surrendered.
"It's just that I was raised with our traditions, and it's very hard to get over all of them."
"I can understand," the General said with a small nod of empathy.
"But will you do anything about it?"
Turdú sat back, quite surprised, "What?"
"Well, if you feel about me the way that you do, which, though you haven't said, is quite obvious, couldn't you use your position to talk to Mornië?" Dilotè asked, her eyes glowing.
"You're third in command of the entire Remnant! Why don't you ask?"
"Because he won't listen to me. I'm a woman. I'm a Halda'ohtar. I'm not...equal...to you, in his eyes," Dilotè growled angrily.
"You're bordering on treason, Dilotè."
"Turdú, how would you feel to have been trained as I was, in my rank and position, and still be seen as somehow less of a person?"
The General sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I suppose you make a good point. But you do realize that if I anger him, I might be stripped of more than my rank, correct?"
Dilotè did not answer.
Turdú, looked at her for a long moment, then slapped his hand down on the tabletop. "But I don't care. If we are to be truly united, we must make sure all of our troops, especially our officers..."
The Drow maiden looked up, "And friends."
"And friends," Turdú said with a smile, "Are happy."
Dilotè smiled back at him, her white teeth gleaming in contrast against the light purple of her skin. "Thank you. Now, you must tell me about yourself."
As the initial shock of the colliding powers wore off, Mordae surged forward through the swirling lights, sword raised toward the three-meter tall demon that stood before him. The creature smiled sinisterly, its long fangs glowing molten red, then, stepped forward to meet the elf's attack, the massive, flaming sword sweeping in a long arc toward Mordae.
"O Illúvatar, dirn nossa, ar onin nossa poldora, Im kyerm2," Mordae implored Illúvatar as he raised his blade to block the balrog's swing.
"Im naa sinome, mia Erusen. Gorga nid,3" a soothing voice echoed in the elves' minds, bringing them an odd sense of peace in the hellfire that they stood in.
The crash of mìthril on flame rang through the chamber as Mordae blocked the attack, his muscles screaming in defiance. The balrog roared in surprise at the strength of its intended victim, then lashed out with its whip at Celebdraug, striking her across the chest.
She cried out as she was flung back, but rolled and rose to her feet as soon as she hit, anger burning in her eyes as her cloak smoldered from the heat.
Mordae ducked under the flaming blade and sprinted toward the creature, which batted him aside easily with the back of its hand, burning his side horribly. Mordae slammed into a large boulder and slid to the ground.
"Illúvatar!" Celebdraug screamed as she raised her blade. Huge flaming projectiles, like those that she had called down upon the orcs in New Edoras, hurled from all around her into the demon, which bellowed and raised a mind shield, deflecting the attack.
Mordae rose slowly to his feet and raised his sword again, charging forward at the beast. This time, the balrog was distracted by Celebdraug's attack, and the elf managed to get within striking range. With a vengeful ferocity, Mordae thrust his sword into the creature's sword arm, causing the flaming blade to drop to the ground, where it smoldered into nothingness, void of its owner's contact.
The balrog roared and turned its attention to Mordae, raising the whip high for a crushing blow. As the demon's hand rose, however, Celebdraug hurled a throwing knife into its finger, causing it to pause for a moment. The elf-maiden charged forward and sliced the beast's forearm with her sword, causing the whip to sputter and fall.
With a deafening roar, a huge column of black fire dropped from the ceiling, engulfing the battlefield. Mordae and Celebdraug raised mind shields of their own and cried out to Illúvatar, not breaking the attack as they slashed and hacked at the creature.
As the dark fire increased, Mordae released a maelstrom of light into the balrog's shield, causing it to flicker as the demon struggled to keep it intact. Celebdraug added a whirlwind of her red flame that cut through the black inferno and surrounded the balrog in a raging storm.
The three powers battled against one another for a long moment, dueling to see whose shields would last the longest. Just as the elves began to loose consciousness, the dark blaze stopped suddenly. Mordae and Celebdraug fell to their knees before the balrog, still praying to Illúvatar, weak, and badly burned, but alive.
The balrog, on the other hand, faired not as well. Its once glowing red body had become solid black, the evil energy it once possessed greatly diminished. Dark blood flowed from multiple glowing wounds inflicted by the elven blades.
Despite this beaten condition, the creature laughed its ominous, bone-rending cackle.
"Thou fight well, infidels," it wheezed. "But to what avail? Wounded as I am, thou can never truly vanquish me."
"I beg to differ," Mordae countered, staggering to his feet.
Beside him, Celebdraug rose as well, weakly raising her weapon. "This may hurt a little."
The elves limped forward at the speed a man can sprint, leaped a meter in the air, and drove their blades deep into the balrog's chest.
A dreadful scream broke through the chamber as the demon staggered back, the elven blades still embedded in glowing circles on its body. White dots began to appear on its body, from which shafts of light burst forth. The light swelled even greater, then with a dull thud, the creature exploded in a blast of light and flame, the scream dying away slowly.
The elves knelt where they had fallen, breathing heavily.
"Ha," Mordae coughed, "And Gandalf made it seem like that was a hard thing to do."
A thunderous roar shook the walls again as a sinister cloud of energy swirled from where the balrog had stood. In the center of the cloud, two blood-red eyes formed, swirling like a molten whirlpool.
Vicious laughter rang in the elves' ears, along with the voice of the balrog, "Thou hast slain my earthly form, for the time being. Can thou contend with my will?"
Mordae and Celebdraug groaned as their eyes met. Then, Celebdraug gritted her teeth, looked up, and shouted, "Im tilalle ar'qaelumlle e'a vell Ia4!"
"Thou hast not the power!"
"E'vell esse a Eru, Im naille a'nio alorte a'Endore5!"
The balrog shrieked again as the cloud swirled faster, louder and longer than ever, then with a crack, disappeared, leaving the chamber in darkness.
Mordae and Celebdraug's eyes met, and they gazed blearily at one another. As one, the cousins succumbed to darkness.
1 Iron-wood. A type of very hard tree that is native to the Drowlands, used by the Halda'ohtar to make armor.
2 O Illúvatar, guard us, and give us strength, I pray.
3 I am here, my children. Fear not.
4 I bind you and cast you into the Void!
5 In the name of Illúvatar, I command you to never return to Middle Earth!
