Chapter LII: Big, Ugly, and Dangerous
In the giant main hall of Khazad, the two massive armies stood facing one another in stoic silence, mulling calmly over one another's forces. Not a single soldier spoke, no sound was made other than the occasional whisper of metal rubbing against metal as the crowded soldiers pushed against one another. The vampires numbered just over one hundred thousand, but the dwarven army stretched far beyond what could be seen, numbering well over two hundred thousand.
The four leaders of the Remnant/Tvhesta forces surveyed the battlefield chosen for them by their intended victims with anticipation. The hall was enormous, most likely covering several square leagues; though it became too dark to tell after a half league, save for the dim flicker of distant torches upon the pillars.
"Who enters our hall dressed for war, slaying our people as if they were livestock?" a voice thundered in Khazdul, the language of the dwarven people.
"Those who would bring justice for their people!" Celebdraug replied harshly, in the same tongue.
"Is there a language you don't speak?" Draylen pondered aloud.
"Hobbitish," Mordae answered.
"Justice? Is it just to invade a peaceful city? Is it just to strike down the innocent?" the voice retorted.
"Indeed not!" Mordae replied. "Does the word Nargothrond mean anything to thee?"
The elf's query was met with only silence, his words echoing ominously through the chamber.
"Nargothrond?" Lynza whispered inquisitively.
"Elven city in the First Age," Mordae explained in hushed tones. "Dwarves attacked it randomly. We beat them off, but they killed a lot of innocent people."
"You don't hold grudges, do you?" the girl hissed back, smiling slightly.
"We actually don't care any more," Celebdraug commented. "But it makes for a good point."
Mordae nodded emphatically.
"Well, if you don't mind," Draylen interrupted, "Stop making points and let's get to the fighting."
"Surrender to us, and we will spare the vampires! The elves shall die like their kindred!"
"Oh, it's on," Draylen muttered with a massive grin, stepping back from Celebdraug and Mordae, who slowly, ominously, drew their gleaming broadswords.
Mordae shot a smile over his shoulder, then with a cry, bolted forward, blade pointed at the horde of dwarves. "Illúvatar!"
"Remnant!"
"Khazad!"
"Tvhesta!"
"Draylen!"
Celebdraug glanced over her shoulder as she sprinted, obviously laughing.
The dwarves, characteristically aggressive, surged forward with axes raised. Similarly, the vampires, who never shied away from a challenge, boiled forward in a dark cloud, this time at a very low altitude, prepared for any of the traps the dwarves may have set.
There was a thunderous crash as the Noldor struck, hurling axes and bodies of dwarves half their size into the air with the force of their blades.
Celebdraug hopped back lightly, out of the range of the half dozen axes that swung menacingly at her. The elf felt the wind as the massive heads passed, and then they were gone, the dwarves straining to stop the momentum their brute force weapons carried. Stepping nimbly forward, Celebdraug whipped her sword across at her waist height, severing the heads of four attackers. As the axe heads began their return paths, the warrior performed a back flip, clearing the weapons. The flaming broadsword jabbed in and out at a blinding pace, becoming a single orange and red blur that blasted through the heads and chests of her opponents.
Mordae's shimmering yellow sword weaved through the dwarves' axe handles and heads, deflecting the blows and sending the weapons spinning off at odd angles, where they slammed into their kin. Due to the small stature of the dwarves, the elf was forced to stand in a low crouch on his toes, cutting his height by a half meter. This stance, while it would make his calves burn after an hour or so, actually made Mordae more mobile and increased his agility.
The vampire horde struck with a rolling crash, the front line releasing thousands of lizcan, then transforming into bats and flying to the rear, where they could reload safely while the took two steps forward, fired, and repeated the process. The army advanced slowly and deliberately, sending disks spinning into the mass of dwarves, felling more as time passed.
There was a two hundred meter space where no disks were fired, however. In this gap, the press of the Tvhestan infantry began driving a wedge into the enemy, the ever-widening breach constantly filled with reinforcements from the back.
Draylen slid to a halt beside Celebdraug, beaming playfully. In one hand, he held his bladed staff; with the other, he hurled sets of lizcan into his opponents with blinding speed, quickly emptying the vast majority of the remaining projectiles.
The elf smiled wryly at her companion, reached down with her right hand, and hurled several dozen lizcan far out over the horde of awaiting dwarves, striking down several of the soldiers.
Inefficient, yet lots of fun, Draylen mused.
Celebdraug's grin widened. Yes indeed.
The vampire took a step to the side, away from the elf, and began twirling his staff in an aggressive figure eight, beating back axes and bodies alike. He blocked enemy attacks both with the blades and with the remainder of his weapon, which had decorative yet purposeful curls of mìthril wound across the entire length of it, providing excellent solidity.
Lynza had positioned herself to Mordae's left, where she expertly held back the tide of half-sized warriors that swirled around the foursome.
Is this better? Mordae questioned good-naturedly as he sliced one of his opponents in half vertically.
Much, the vampire girl replied, rolling under several axes, then rising in the center of a small cluster of dwarves, which she felled easily.
Mordae's eyes shot to the right, just in time for him to catch a throwing axe that had been hurled at his head, which rose high above the battle. The elf glanced back and forth, selected a target – a dwarf fighting less than a meter from Celebdraug – then hurled the weapon with all his might.
Celebdraug leaped back as the axe slammed into the dwarf she had been preparing to strike down, decapitating her target. She glanced in the direction that the weapon had originated from, her gaze coming to a rest on Mordae's grinning face.
The elf maiden's hand shot to her waist, unclipped another set of lizcan, and hurled it at her cousin, missing his face by less than half a meter. She responded to his look of surprise by sticking out her tongue, then returning to her grim work.
Niphredil ran onward, angry with herself for having fallen so far behind the army. A lone bat now flew beside her, low to the ground, so as to avoid the piercing light of the risen sun. The creature had told her that its name was Zalok, and that it had been he that took her in when she arrived at Rivendell.
So, where are you from? the vampire questioned, slowing his pace a bit to stay parallel to the elf.
I was born in Lindon, Niphredil replied in elvish, unsure of whether the creature would be able to understand her, but continuing the conversation nonetheless. But I moved to Rivendell about five hundred years ago. After living there for about four hundred years, I moved to Lorien, where I live now.
I see. Apparently, elvish was not a problem for Zalok. And this boyfriend of yours? The vampire's tone was bemused. I hear he is quite the man...eh...elf.
Niphredil felt her step falter and she broke rhythm for a moment. Sensing the disturbance, the bat edged closer to her.
Are you all right, miss?
I'm fine, sorry. The elf slapped herself on the inside. Yes, Glorfindel is a very talented elf. Talented, unfortunately, in the art of sarcasm as well as war, though it is amusing at times.
Funny and a fighter. An excellent mix.
Niphredil sighed. I hope he's safe.
And why do you say that? Zalok inquired.
The last time I saw Glorfindel, he was being dragged away on the shoulders of a Drow Captain.
The conversation died for a moment at this revelation, the bat winging slightly further away from the elf.
After a moment, Zalok returned. I apologize. I did not mean to bring to life any ill feelings.
Don't worry, Niphredil consoled. He's tough; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he's escaped by now.
We can hope.
The pair raced on in silence for a while longer, before suddenly breaking through the thick trees into a large, brilliantly lit clearing.
Niphredil blinked her eyes a few times, adjusting to the brightness quickly, but the vampire let out a small hiss and whirled back into the trees, where he transformed with a pop into a tall, cultured looking man bearing a vrylna and the traditional bladed staff.
"Are you coming?" Niphredil questioned urgently.
Zalok sighed, peering blearily into the light. "How far do would you say it is to the entrance?"
The elf skipped happily across the leaf-strewn ground, delighted to be in the sunshine once more. She halted upon reaching the entrance and peered warily inside, but saw no sign of life.
Turning her head, Niphredil sighted the vampire once more, about forty meters away. "It's right here!"
Zalok exhaled deeply, altered his form again, and then burst from the trees, eyes tightly shut.
A pain unlike any other he had experienced in his years of a warrior hit him with the force of a troll's mace, causing him to scream on the inside. He felt as though he had been laid in a pit of fire, as though his skin was being slowly seared from his body. Zalok cursed the One who had created him to be a creature of the night, and prayed to anything that would save him from this pain that he would simply die and be done with it.
He was flying blind, and had no idea whether he was still heading in the right direction. Zalok imagined what the elf saw, a lone bat, a ball of fire careening randomly across the field before finally collapsing in a smoking heap of ash.
But suddenly, the vampire could feel the elf; feel her reaching out to him, calling him to her. The bat rocketed across the clearing, arced sharply away from the wall, and transformed again with a crack just inside the entryway, breathing hard. Zalok's skin, which was normally white, had turned a brilliant red, and his eyes had faded slightly; even the touch of the ground sent chills through his cracked skin.
Niphredil hurriedly knelt beside the vampire, reaching out one hand toward him, praying that Illúvatar would heal the pain of the one who had risked his life to accompany her. After a moment, the ruddy tones had all but vanished, and Zalok's eyes shone once more.
"How did you do that?" the vampire gasped in amazement. "Are you a mage?"
"No," Niphredil laughed, filled with the joy of serving a God of such power. "Just a servant of Illúvatar, like the Udunaedos. They just have a...different...connection with Him."
The vampire nodded knowingly, though he obviously did not fully comprehend.
After a few moments, he stood, unclasping his vrylna from his back and slamming a lizcan into the containment bolt. He gestured down the dimly lit hall, where torches that had once been attached to the walls now lay strewn at odd angles across the floor. "Shall we?"
A low, livid bellow shook Mordae's attention from the duel with the dwarves, causing him to whirl in the direction of the sound. Behind him, the Remnant and Tvhestan vampires had expended all but their reserves of lizcan into the enemy horde, and had now begun battering their way through with their hand-to-hand weapons.
From the sides, however, gigantic doors had begun to open, four on either wall, each about ten meters across and fifteen meters high. From these doors flowed the usual river of dwarf axe-soldiers, but the shadows looming behind them were something that the elf had never encountered in the dwarven arsenal.
Rac, Celebdraug's voice rang in his head. Tell me those are just really ugly dwarves.
They're just really ugly dwarves, Lynza replied wryly.
Or maybe it's just Mordae's brothers and sisters, Draylen offered.
Or my other cousins, the giant elf retorted.
The ten cave trolls let out an angry roar in unison, shaking the bones of the warriors and loosing small rocks from the roof a half league above, felling several soldiers from both the vampire and the dwarf armies.
The maces hurled downward in great arcs, sending cloudy plumes of ash where they struck, scattering staffs and plate armor in all directions. Mordae delivered a vicious sidekick to the nearest dwarf, hurling it a meter over the heads of its kin, and then bolted for the eastern side, accompanied by his three friends.
The hiss of the remaining lizcan resounded faintly over the din of battle as the shimmering disks ripped into the incoming trolls, sending spurts of black blood high into the air. The disorganization with which they were fired, however, caused many to deflect off one another in arbitrary directions, or miss all together. Poorly aimed shots sliced only small lacerations in the troll's arms and legs, only antagonizing them further. One of the targets was unfortunate enough to receive several well-placed disks to the face; the grotesque body hit the ground with a dull thud as the rest of his kin drove onward, their rage increased by the loss of their brother.
"Hold the break!" Celebdraug cried as she passed the soldiers that had been driving a wedge through the dwarven army. Thanks to the trolls, it was no longer of primary concern to further the rift, but it was important that they at least hold the position, so that they could maintain the tactical advantage. The soldiers acknowledged her orders by slowing the advance until they stood still, forming a rigid wall against the ocean of dwarves.
Mordae slowed his sprint as he neared the trolls. The creatures were reptilian in nature, with smooth blue-gray skin and enormous, hollow, black eyes that betrayed their lack of intelligence. Each of the monsters bore a massive mace which, when coupled with strength more than ten times that of the elven warrior, could deal out extensive damage to any foe they came upon.
The elf could not fathom where the dwarves had come to possess the trolls. The creatures had once roamed free in the dark forests of Mirkwood and Eriador, but had been hunted to near extinction by elves and men in the wild. They had last been seen in the battles of Minas Tirith, after which they were thought to no longer be in existence. The dwarves had either captured these from Sauron's armies or somehow discovered the remains of a tribe in the northern wastes. No matter where they had come from, the monsters spelled trouble for the vampire army.
The Noldor turned sharply as he felt his cousin slide to a halt beside him and pull her bowstring taught, pressing the fletching of the three arrows against her cheek. Following her lead, Mordae unslung his own longbow and took aim at the lumbering monstrosities that thundered closer to the two elves, battering their way through the fleeing vampires.
"The one on the right, his helmet is slipping," Celebdraug hissed.
Along with incredibly thick skin, and layers of fat and muscles, the dwarves had outfitted the trolls with thick mìthril plate armor, making them virtually invincible. The only way to bring the trolls down would be to exploit one of the few weaknesses they held – their utter stupidity.
Mordae nodded in confirmation, and the Noldor fired as one, sending six of their meter long arrows through the exposed section of the monster's skull. With a bellow of pain, the creature staggered back, then collapsed on the ground with an earthshaking thud.
Draylen and Lynza arrived beside the pair a moment later, staffs at the ready.
"Nice shot," Lynza complimented, nodding toward the fallen troll.
"My arrows killed it," Mordae assured the vampires.
"Mine," Celebdraug argued.
"Move!" Draylen shrieked, kicking Mordae and Celebdraug backward as he pulled Lynza with him. With a thunderous crash, a troll's mace slammed into the ground where the foursome had just stood, crushing the rock to a fine powder that sprayed into the air.
Without missing a beat, Celebdraug hit the ground on her back, kicked onto her feet, and launched herself four meters into the air, swapping her bow for her blade as she whirled through the air. The troll gazed wide-eyed as if pondering the flying elf as she hurled toward the monster, sword pointed straight for his neck. With the peal of metal scraping metal, her superheated blade drove through the flexible plate over the creature's neck and embedded itself in the thick skin. Bellowing loudly, the troll's hand shot to where the weapon stuck, and he began to turn in a slow circle, as if trying to escape the burning sensation.
Celebdraug landed gracefully on her feet, bending her knees to absorb the impact of the fall, and putting herself in position for Mordae to vault off of her, sailing high over the troll's head as it turned.
The Noldor inverted himself so that his blade pointed straight down, aiming directly at the shimmering black helmet that the beast wore. Smoothly, as if in slow motion, Mordae plummeted, thrust his sword all the way to the hilt inside the creature's head, and landed with a slight hop beside Lynza.
Suddenly paralyzed, the troll ceased its rotation and simply crumpled, collapsing on itself, to lay prone on the rock floor, eyes still wide.
"Showoffs," Draylen hissed as the two elves retrieved their blades.
Mordae shrugged, not arguing.
With a fanged grin, the vampire whirled and sprinted toward the next troll, his staff pointed toward his target. Lynza bolted after him, weapon poised, her eyes narrowed. The massive mace swung in a blurred arc toward Draylen, who simply transformed and flew lightly above the weapon, then changed back to his original form on the other side. As the troll began to bring the club back, Lynza sprinted through the danger zone, clearing the distance that the monster could strike her before he was capable.
Draylen gave a slight hop, thrust his staff into the ground, and used it to propel himself upward, carrying the weapon with him as he rose. Lynza slashed first the tree trunk-like leg, then the gigantic arm that held the mace, causing it to release the bludgeon, sending it sailing into another troll, which slammed into the ground and did not rise. At the peak of his flight, Draylen jabbed his staff into the troll's forehead, then swung in a complete rotation around his weapon placing him on the shoulder of the beast. With great ceremony, the vampire traded staff for vrylna, took aim at the bulging neck, and fired, sending three disks ricocheting down the troll's throat.
Coughing heavily, the monster dropped to his knees, barely missing Lynza, who dove to safety. Draylen transformed once more, and winged calmly to Celebdraug's side, where he altered form for a final time to witness his handiwork.
The troll staggered forwards another step, reaching weakly for Lynza, who easily dodged to the side of the lethargic attempt. With a concluding groan, the creature plunged to the ground, lying motionless, facedown on the stones before the girl's feet.
"What do you think?" Draylen offered to Celebdraug.
The elf maiden grinned broadly. "The jump was sloppy. You had to use your staff?"
"Well," the vampire explained haughtily. "When you have to lug around this much muscle..."
Celebdraug punched her companion lightly in the shoulder, causing him to wince.
"Hey, I got shot, remember?"
"Yes," Mordae chided. "You mustn't hurt the poor baby."
Draylen aimed his staff teasingly at the elf, which half-raised his broadsword.
"Gentlemen," Lynza sighed, gesturing toward the final troll on the eastern end of the battle. "We do have more pressing matters to attend to other than one another."
Mordae exhaled noisily, glanced at the beast – which was busy battering down scores of vampires thirty meters away – trotted forward a few steps, and then with a grunt, hurled his blade at the beast. The weapon arced smoothly, twirling vertically as it soared across the space, and then implanted itself cleanly in the side of the monster's head. Without a sound, the creature collapsed, crushing three vampire soldiers not quick enough to flee.
With great debonair, Mordae turned back toward the vampire girl, haughtily tossing his dark hair back over his shoulders. "You were saying?"
Lynza shook her head, smiling slightly. "That was actually rather impressive."
"I know."
The vampire laughed out loud. "You're a hobbit."
"I know."
"One problem," Celebdraug interjected pointedly.
Celebdraug's cousin suavely raised one eyebrow, prompting a slight chuckle from her. "Your sword."
Mordae's eyes widened as he observed the dwarven army enveloping the area where the vampire soldiers had once stood, but had now abandoned.
"Rac."
"What happened in here?" Niphredil wondered aloud as she surveyed the destroyed hall where the battle had begun.
Zalok inspected the ash that littered the ground. "It appears as though the dwarves had a few surprises for our warriors."
The pair made their way in silence through the carnage, until they came to the point where the floor had given way, revealing the spear-headed pikes that had impaled hundreds of the vampires.
Niphredil let out a long sigh. "Now what?"
