Chapter XL: The Sky is Falling

Celebdraug and Draylen were sitting together, but not in some dark corner, and not exactly doing what Mordae had concocted in his mind.

The elf had been right on one accord, however; the more time Celebdraug spent with the slightly deranged vampire, the more attracted she became to him.

"So, you want a tour?" Draylen asked absent-mindedly.

"I used to live here," Celebdraug pointed out, smiling slightly.

"Oh, that's right..." the vampire trailed off.

"But I'd take one anyway," Celebdraug hurriedly added. "What else is there to do?"

Draylen's face brightened. "I can always show you our little additions, eh?"

"Sure." The elf hopped lightly to her feet and extended her hand. "Come, oh Great and Mighty Tour Guide. Show me the paths of thy treacherous domain."

"I like the 'Great and Mighty' part," Draylen commented, taking Celebdraug's hand and rising to his feet.

"Don't get used to it, Hobbit-Breath."

The vampire raised his eyebrows. "Let's stick with Mighty."

"N'uma1," Celebdraug argued, beginning to skip away, pulling Draylen with her. "We likes Hobbit-Breath."

"Fine, if we must." Draylen paused as he was dragged behind Celebdraug. "Hey, who's leading this tour?"

At the head of the three hundred fifty thousand soldiers that made up the entire bulk of the Fellowship army, Eldarion pointed his sword to Aragost.

"Lead the First Cavalry division to the west. Sweep full around to their side, so we can split their army in half."

The Fellowship General nodded, and rode west, toward the waiting one hundred thousand soldiers of the First Cavalry.

Eldarion turned now to Eorlmer.

"Congratulations, Captain. You are hereby promoted to General of the Fellowship."

"Thank you, my lord," Eorlmer murmured, his thoughts murderous.

"I need you to lead your men in the exact opposite attack as Aragorn. Go east, and hit directly mid-center of their east army."

The young, newly promoted General saluted smartly.

"Yes, sir!"

Eorlmer trotted his horse a half-mile down the stretch of infantry, before finally coming to the beginning of his cavalry.

He rode to the center of the men, then turned, preparing to give his best imitation of one of Dacil's motivational speeches.

However, before he could speak, one of the lieutenants cried out at him.

"You traitor! Get out of our sight!"

Eorlmer paused, thunderstruck, and then his front collapsed, tears beginning to stream down his face.

"My brothers," the young man, shouted, "I cannot live with what I have done. However, it is what Dacil wanted! He knew that if I did not kill him, all we have done would have been in vain. And so, by martyring himself, he has saved his country and us! I ask you to ensure that his death was not in vain! Many of us will fall, but we will die for our cause! Ride now, for Dacil, your brother! Ride for the sake of Middle Earth! On the third trumpet, we will crush the Fellowship dogs, which have so long oppressed us! Charge!"

Moved by his simple honesty, the soldiers of Isen Meares surged forward, swords drawn. Far from the horde, Eldarion raised his horn and gave a loud blast. The first trumpet.

Mordae snapped from his thoughts as he heard a door open behind him. The sun had nearly gone down, and, filtered through the trees, it seemed nearly as dark as the night.

The elf turned slowly, his right hand sliding to the dagger he constantly had fastened to the back of his belt. His hand stopped as he registered the intruder as Lynza, and he slowly let out his breath.

"A little high strung, are we?" the vampire asked with a smile.

Mordae shook his head resignedly. "All my friends are out there, fighting Illúvatar knows what, and I'm here, doing..." the elf trailed off.

"Doing your duty," Lynza completed Mordae's thought with her own interpretation. She glided to the railing beside him and leaned heavily against it.

Mordae sighed and let his hand drop from the hilt of the dagger. "It just seems so wrong," the elf complained. "I don't know why, but there's just this...sinking feeling in my stomach. Something's terribly wrong, and there's nothing I can do to fix it."

Lynza put her hand on Mordae's shoulder. "If you were in command of an army, and had the choice to move a unit and win the battle, but it could result in your own death, would you?"

The elf looked warily at her hand, then his purple eyes met her deep black pools. "In a heartbeat."

"That is what Aragorn is doing. If you stay and defend them, they will survive, but Mornië may acquire the rest of the rings; therefore your defense would simply be prolonging the inevitable. If you secure the rings, there is hope for the survivors."

Mordae slammed his hand down on the railing, lightly, so he would not destroy the architecture. The elf stood in silence, head bowed for a moment, and then he raised his gaze again.

"You should be right less often."

The vampire smiled and gave a small courtesy. "The curse of a woman, I suppose."

Mordae laughed slightly and shook his head, then paused. "Where's Celebdraug?"

"With Draylen."

"I know," Mordae clarified, "I mean, what have those two been doing for the last...day?"

Lynza shrugged. "Are we old enough to know?"

"That's what I'd like to find out."

There was a short silence.

"Not that I'm some kind of..."

Lynza cut off Mordae's unnecessary explanation. "My, you clarify things too much."

"Habit," the elf sighed. "I work with royalty too much."

Lynza laughed. "Why do you think I led a revolution?"

"My subjects!" Eldarion boomed, his voice echoing in the stillness of the marsh to the massive infantry he led.

"Our triumph is at hand! Or enemies lie before us, and they are weak! We shall crush them like the insects they are, beneath our feet! Now, make haste, for victory and glory are upon us!

With an angry sounding bellow, the Fellowship sprang forward and surged onto the islands toward the waiting Dunedain army. At the head, Eldarion lifted his horn again. The second trumpet.

Draylen and Celebdraug had completed their tour in the highest spire of Rivendell, giving them an unparalleled view of the surrounding forest.

The two stood at one of the large windows, gazing out at the glorious scene before them. The sun had just slipped behind the mountain, and the moon was beginning to rise. Celebdraug absently flicked a small rock from the sill, watching it plummet down to one of the balcony edges, bounce off, and complete its descent to the forest floor.

A moment later, Mordae's head leaned out over the balcony edge, his eyes tracking up the spire and finally coming to rest on Celebdraug, who smiled innocently and waved.

Mordae disappeared for a moment, then returned, holding a small rock in his hand. He hurled it with all his might, but it still fell a few meters short of his cousin, who stuck out her tongue and disappeared back into the spire.

Draylen smiled and held out his hand, in which a dozen small rock fragments sat.

"Where'd you find those?" Celebdraug questioned, eagerly taking half of them.

"Stuff breaks," Draylen explained, gesturing over his shoulder to a slightly chipped pillar.

Celebdraug smiled, and the elf and vampire hurried to the sill again. Celebdraug whistled to Mordae, who appeared a moment later, a confused look on his face. As one, Celebdraug and Draylen hurled their stones down at the elf, who dove back under cover, no doubt cursing them as he did so.

Draylen glanced over at Celebdraug and smiled.

"We should hang out more."

Celebdraug nodded in agreement. "People don't hate us enough yet. I think together, we could make them."

"Yeah." The vampire leaned over the edge, scanning for Mordae, who had obviously given up and either gone inside to hide or was heading for the spire as they spoke to deliver retribution.

Suddenly, he stood straight, his eyes gleaming.

Celebdraug raised an eyebrow.

"We should get married!"

The elf backed away slowly in mock-horror. "I've only known you for a day and a half. That's a little fast, don't you think?"

"No, not because I like you," Draylen explained, grinning mischievously. "We could have elfpires!"

Celebdraug cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Elfpires?"

"Elf-vampires. Elfpires."

Celebdraug looked at Draylen for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Then, she doubled over laughing.

"You," she gasped between breaths, "Are a complete moron."

Draylen bowed dignifiedly. "Why, thank you."

There was a pause as Celebdraug caught her breath.

"So," Draylen offered cautiously, "Is that a no?"

Again, Celebdraug burst into laughter.

Finally, she walked back over to the vampire, who was leaning against the windowsill, facing into the chamber. She gave a half turn and landed her back against the sill with a dull thud. Her blazing red eyes met Draylen's almost ominous black.

"I wouldn't say that was a yes," the elf said with a smile, "But would you be willing to take it as a 'maybe in a few years, if you prove yourself worthy'?"

Draylen smiled, showing his long white fangs.

"Nah."

Celebdraug punched the vampire's shoulder, causing him to give a fake whimper and inch away from her. The elf reached out, took his gloved hand, and pulled him back. The two stood in silence for a moment, their hands together.

"Ya know," Draylen muttered finally. "It's kind of pointless to hold hands if we're both wearing gloves."

"I don't want to get vampire germs," Celebdraug mockingly explained.

"I see."

Before either of the two could say any more, the door burst open, revealing Mordae, who had dressed hurriedly in his covert-operations fatigues. He held an arsenal of pebbles taken from the forest floor in his hands and in food packs on his side.

The massive elf let loose a battle cry, and the other two glanced nervously at one another. Then, they charged forward to meet Mordae in a battle unlike any other seen in Rivendell.

"My brothers, the time has come!" Aragorn rode back and forth on his gleaming white stallion before the Dunedain army, sword raised to the sky.

"The time for selflessness! The time for strength! The time for valor! The time to take back our lands, our families, our pride! The time for victory is no! Forth, servants of light! Forth for Illúvatar!"

The mixed group of elves and men responded with a roar of enthusiasm, and as the King began to charge down the paths through the black waters, they followed crying "For battle! For victory!"

Suddenly, in the midst of the massive wrestling match, Draylen sat up.

"Where's Lynza?"

Mordae and Celebdraug paused as well.

"I don't know," Mordae said with a shrug. She was with me for a little while, then she said that there was something she had to do."

"How long ago was that?" Draylen asked.

Mordae squinted slightly. "About...ten minutes ago."

"Was she dressed in her armor?" the vampire inquired, beginning to rise.

"Hey, now that you mention it..."

Draylen bolted to the sill. Far in the distance, he could see a lone bat winging northward.

"She's trying to leave without me!" Draylen cried.

"Stubborn little bat," Celebdraug growled.

Draylen was nearly hysterical.

"We can't let her go on her own! Vrayon will bring who-knows-how-many soldiers, and...and they'll capture her...they'll torture her...they'll find out where we are..."

Celebdraug put her hand on the vampire's shoulder. "Calm down, Draylen."

She turned to Mordae. "Good thing you're already suited up. Follow her, and we'll be right behind you."

"We will?" Draylen sounded slightly incredulous.

"Yes," Celebdraug grabbed his hand and began to pull him down the spire. "I hope you're up for a bit of fun."

The vampire's dark eyes glowed.

"Always."

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