Chapter IL: Heavy Weaponry

The call to arms, a clanging silver bell, resounded off the ancient halls of the elven fortress, sending their clear, urgent tone to all the rooms of Rivendell. Lynza gave the rope pulley one final tug, sending a closing note echoing over the forest, then leaned against the railing of the spire she stood in, surveying the action that materialized below her.

Soldiers scurried back and forth, securing weapons, armoring themselves, and locating their squads. The vampire noted with pleasure that none seemed to question why they were being called; the soldiers willingly prepared themselves for the unknown.

A sudden clamor of metal behind the girl caused her to whirl about in surprise, coming face to face with Mordae, who had one hand raised in a gesture of surrender.

"And you say I'm high strung?" the giant mused. "It appears I'm not the only one."

Lynza glared playfully at the elf as he swung toward her by the rope, sending a crystalline note pealing once more. Landing lightly on his feet, Mordae hopped to the vampire's side, leaning comfortably against the railing beside her.

"Why are you moping around up here?" the elf asked, knowing full well why Lynza had fled the quarters where Niphredil resided as soon as it was polite to do so.

"I'm alerting the soldiers," the girl explained, dodging Mordae's question.

"Perianquende," the giant spat with a small laugh, idly gazing out over the orderly chaotic scene below the two.

Lynza sighed and smiled weakly.

"Listen," Mordae insisted, placing his hand lightly on the girl's shoulder. "I don't care that you didn't tell us about you and Vrayon beforehand. I don't care that you're related to him. It's fine, and quite understandable, as a matter of fact. I would be worried to reveal the fact that I'm really related to Mornië."

There was a long silence as Lynza drew a shuddering breath.

"I always suspected Uncle Mornië was insane, but..." the elf trailed off, as if recalling past memories.

Lynza grinned her fanged smile and punched Mordae lightly on the shoulder.

"There we go," the giant sighed, returning the grin. "You're much prettier when you smile. Moping around just doesn't fit you."

The vampire stuck her tongue out slightly at Mordae, who obligingly returned the gesture.

The two stood in silence for a moment as they observed the vampire soldiers arranging themselves in their battalions.

"So," Lynza began tentatively. "How do you know that elf? Niphre...?"

"Niphredil," Mordae completed. "She's my best friend's girlfriend."

"Ah, really now?"

The elf raised his eyebrows. "You sound surprised."

Lynza shrugged slightly. "I just thought...from the way you were with her...that you were...you know..."

"Me and Niphredil?" Mordae let out a bark of laughter. "I love Niphredil as a friend, but she and I are like hobbits and brains, we just don't work together."

The vampire grinned slightly and exhaled. "Good."

"Good?" the elf sounded more amused than questioning.

"I just..."

"Jealous?" Mordae teased. "Can't resist the Royal-hotness?"

"More like the Royal-Pain-in-the-Arse," Lynza quipped, kicking the elf teasingly in the shin.

"Ouch, that one stung."

The vampire grinned. "Can't handle a little friendly teasing?"

"Not the lame one-liner," Mordae complained. "The iron-tipped boot digging into my leg."

Lynza's grin grew larger, and she struck playfully at the elf, who whipped into a handstand on the railing, dodging the blow.

The vampire leaned back casually, driving her elbow into Mordae's back, sending the elf over the guardrail, where he hung, glaring mockingly up at her.

"Okay, fine," Mordae ceded. "You win."

Lynza smirked, reached down to pull the elf up, then, once he had regained his footing, the vampire began waltzing down the stairs.

"Where you going?" Mordae queried, swinging once more over by the bell pulley, causing Lynza to cover her ears as the clanging metal rang in her ears.

"In case you've forgotten, Sir Hotness," the vampire taunted as she raced down the stairwell. "We have a battle to attend to."

Draylen glanced up as a rap on his door echoed through his sparse chamber.

The vampire glimpsed down, cinched the final clasp on his chest plate, then raised his head once more.

"Come," the vampire barked, expecting an orderly or a questioning sergeant.

The door whipped open, followed by Celebdraug's beaming face. "Boo."

Draylen hefted his broadsword from its mount on the wall, wrapped the holding belt around his shoulder, yanked the strap until it was snug, and then looped it in the traditional vampire fashion around itself at his shoulder, securing the blade on his back.

"And what are we so happy about?" the vampire inquired as he attached a vicious looking dagger to his right leg.

"Battle coming," Celebdraug replied, springing lightly onto the vampire Lieutenant's bed, where the remainder of his weapons sat. "We gets to kill dwarveses."

Draylen smiled broadly. "Fun fun."

There was a moment's silence as he secured yet another blade to his forearm.

"Are you suited up already?" the vampire questioned incredulously, glancing up at the girl, who was intently scrutinizing his preparation routine.

Celebdraug nodded emphatically, rising and twirling in a small circle, revealing the half dozen swords and daggers she carried on her mail guarded body along with the two quivers of arrows and the shimmering longbow.

Draylen cocked his head to the side. "No plate armor?"

"It restricts my movement too much," the elf explained, dropping back onto the vampire's cot. "I only wear plate for big battles."

"This is pretty major," Draylen countered.

"They're dwarves."

The vampire shrugged and swung his vrylna onto his back, along with a neatly arranged pack of nearly two hundred lizcan.

"Ooh," Celebdraug cried, bouncing up and down slightly. "Give me one!"

Draylen raised one eyebrow as he surveyed the arsenal that the elf bore. "Where would you put it?"

"I'll make room," Celebdraug insisted. She widened her eyes, making them as sad looking as possible, an expression feared by Mordae, known only as The Look.

The vampire sighed, whirled back into one of his storage closets for a moment, and then returned, carrying two vrylna and two hundred more of the shining disks.

"I don't need two," Celebdraug commented, slightly confused.

"Give one to Mordae," Draylen explained. "Otherwise, he'll be all jealous and whiny."

The elf giggled. "Good point."

Draylen assisted Celebdraug in rearranging her armaments to accommodate the bow-like weapon, then inhaled deeply.

"I'm coming with you, you know," the vampire muttered quietly.

Celebdraug cocked her head in question.

"To rescue your friends. I'm coming with you, and you can't stop me."

The elf pondered for a moment, and then grinned slightly. "Sounds good to me."

Draylen raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to argue with me?"

"Nah," Celebdraug replied. "It takes too much energy. Besides, I could always use a shield."

Draylen shrugged happily. "I'm always willing."

"Just try not to get any more blood on me without letting me know," the elf chided. "It's not that I mind it or anything, it's just not pleasant to have somebody explode all over you."

"You are no fun."

The vampire completed his preparations in silence, securing the last of his weapons. Finally, Draylen stood up to his full six and a half foot height, shook his nearly shoulder length black hair, then looped his bladed staff over his back.

"Ready?" the vampire inquired.

Celebdraug grinned maliciously.

"As an un-wise man once said, I was born ready."

In the room conjoined to Draylen's, Mordae barely looked up from his preparations as the door swung open swiftly.

"Put these on," Lynza's voice grunted as she dumped a massive pile of plate armor on his bed.

Now the elf glanced up in confusion, and after sliding a dagger into his belt, he inquired, "Why?"

"Because, if you don't, every Remnant vampire in Ramgost is going to be trying to shove their swords down your throat."

Mordae nodded slowly in acknowledgement, wondering exactly how that was possible. "Good point."

Reaching down, the elf lifted the black breastplate and held it against himself. "Will it fit?" he inquired, turning to gaze into the decorative mirror on the far wall.

Lynza shrugged, then added, "I don't care if the first thing you do once we're inside is throw it at a random dwarf. Just wear it at the beginning; I'd rather not have any trouble, if that's okay with you."

With a slight nod, Mordae began sliding the plate armor over his outer tunic and pants, adjusting his blades as he did so.

"I'll be right back," the vampire called over her shoulder as she strode for the dividing door. "I need to give Celebdraug the rest of this junk."

Mordae saluted, then bent back over his work, mumbling to himself about the inefficiently of it all.

The walls of Mornië's new headquarters loomed above the procession of black clad warriors as they entered the gates of the castle. Turdú glanced up and nodded to the archers atop the ramparts as he rode below them. In front of the General, Dilotè groaned softly and opened her eyes slightly, gazing up at Turdú.

"Are we there?"

Turdú nodded and fixed his gaze on the massive entryway, where a dozen Drow elite soldiers stood on both sides, flanking a lone, ominous, figure. The man in the center lifted one hand in welcome, and Turdú saluted stiffly in return; no matter how high-ranking one was, or how often one was in the presence of the Dark Lord, it was always an imposing experience.

"General Turdú," Mornië called, striding forward to meet the Drow, "Thou hast brought me good news, I pray."

"Indeed I have, lord. The Dead Marshes were an excellent success; my scouts report hundreds of thousands casualties from both sides."

The Remnant commander grinned broadly. "And..."

Turdú gestured to his right, to the massive black steed where Aragorn, Athfaë, and Gandalf were restrained.

"Though they did resist quite strongly," Turdú gestured to Dilotè, who had mostly recovered, "We took them without any losses. Captain Dilotè was injured in a very heroic escapade in which she battled several of the highest ranking Venyarohirrim, whom she killed."

Mornië grinned at the Drow girl, who saluted with barely contained malice in her eyes.

"Come," the Dark Lord beckoned, turning and beginning to march deeper into the city. "We have many interesting tasks that need attending to."

Draylen and Celebdraug exited the vampire's quarters, meeting Mordae and Lynza just outside the rooms.

"This armor is rac," Celebdraug whined as she slammed heavily into the railing on the room's balcony. "I can hardly move."

"Quit your whining," Lynza ordered. "It will be a lot easier wearing the plate than fighting off the Remnant in your mail."

"True," the elf surrendered. "But I still don't like it."

Mordae draped his dark cloak over his shoulders with one hand, extending the other toward his cousin. Celebdraug took her robes from him, grumbling about stupid vampires and their ridiculously hot outfits, then begrudgingly slung it over her back.

"Time to get moving," Lynza commented, gazing at the slowly lightening sky. "We don't want to get stuck out in the sunrise."

Draylen nodded and began jogging down the path, calling over his shoulder, "Last one to the front is a hobbit-kisser!"

Celebdraug grinned and poked Mordae in the forehead, where the runes, despite vigorous cleansing attempts, still shone for all to see.

The giant swiped playfully at his cousin, who bolted off down the path, tripped over herself, encumbered by her weighty armor, and sprawled heavily onto the ground.

Lynza darted past Celebdraug, barely noticing, but Mordae paused long enough to kneel beside his cousin and poke her between the eyes.

The elf maiden glared fiercely at Mordae, who beamed at her, then sprinted away, leaving Celebdraug to clamber to her feet.

"I hope a dwarf gets you!" she screamed sarcastically after the giant as he fled.

"Probably will!" he responded, just before disappearing around the final corner.

Celebdraug shook her head and bolted off after Mordae, seriously considering slashing him with one of her daggers once she caught up.

The two vampires slid to a stop beside Zalok and a few other lieutenants standing at the head of the Tvhestan army. A moment later, Mordae pounded to a halt beside them, followed shortly afterward by a red faced Celebdraug.

Draylen acknowledged the elf's arrival with a nod. "Hobbit-kisser."

"Can it, Fang-boy," Celebdraug spat teasingly, uncomfortably adjusting her plate armor. "I still hate this."

"Good to know you're consistent," Draylen offered.

Before Celebdraug could retort, Niphredil came bounding up to the group, dressed in shimmering mail armor and bearing a long sword and dagger.

"Okay, what in Udun is going on here?" Mordae inquired confusedly.

"I'm coming with you, right?" the Silvan prompted.

"Well, I suppose, yes," the Noldor responded, glancing over his shoulder at his cousin, who shrugged.

"I'm not planning to be at the front of the battle," Niphredil explained, "But, at the moment, I certainly don't feel like going anywhere unarmed."

"Do you even know how to use a sword?" Celebdraug questioned.

Niphredil shrugged. "It can't be that hard, can it?"
The two Noldor and their vampire counterparts exchanged knowing glances, shaking their heads at the naivety that the Silvan displayed.

"Besides," Niphredil continued. "When we get to Glorfindel and the others, I want a piece of Mornië."

Celebdraug nodded in agreement.

"Don't we all."