This might be the most ridiclous thing I have ever written.

Irmo = Lorien = The Vala of Dreams and Desires

Namo = Mandos = The Vala of the Dead

Estë = Vala of Healing

Varie = Vala of Weaving

Nienna = Vala of Pity and Mercy

Olorin = Gandalf

Soft sobs echoed through the room. A pale woman sat alone on a couch, crying to herself while clutching a cup of tea.

Out of earshot a man and woman spoke quietly.

"I could put her to sleep," the man offered.

"No," his wife replied.

"It would make dinner better."

Estë yawned. "No," she ordered. "If I have to attend, your sister does too."

Irmo sighed softly. "Whose idea was this?" he grumbled, pulling his hair in frustration.

"Yours," Estë giggled.

The Vala of Dreams sighed, "Ah, yes, I had forgotten."

Still giggling Estë asked, "Where is your brother? The sooner he comes the sooner I can leave and go to sleep."

"And people tell me to get a hobby." Namo had arrived, unseen and unheard by his brother and sister-in-law.

Irmo brightened. "Brother!" He attempted to give Namo a hug, but the Vala slipped out of reach behind his wife, Varie. Irmo settled for hugging her instead.

"Who's getting Nienna?" Estë asked.

"Not me," the Feanturi chorused.

Varie sighed and shook her head. "I will get her." The Weaver glided from the room.

Namo and Irmo watched her go, with matching expressions of worry.

Varie returned a moment with a morose Nienna. "It's so sad. So many children without a family like ours." She tearfully hugged her brothers.

"How is dinner going to go?" Irmo whispered to his brother.

"You know very well I do not look at everything. Only what I choose, and rarely matters as trivial as a family dinner.

"It is hardly trivial!" Estë snapped.

Irmo sent a desperate, albeit selfish, prayer to his Father that their dinner go by uneventfully.

Irmo nibbled his roll, glancing across the table at his family. Namo was sitting with his eyes closed, not eating a bite, but alert to every sound in the room. Varie was sipping tea, studying a sketch she had brought along, planning her next tapestry. Estë was leaning on Irmo's shoulder, struggling to stay awake. Nienna was crying into her soup.

"How are your halls?" Irmo asked, when the silence finally became too much.

Namo opened his eyes long enough to stare at his brother, then shut them again. "Feanor is determined to cause havoc."

"Death doesn't change everyone," Irmo replied.

"Hmmm, a true pity." For a moment it seemed that he was finished talking, the only sob was Nienna's sniffles, but then he said, "His sons are hardly better. I have never seen such a level of hate."

"They hate you?"

"Unfortunately not, it is not so simple. They hate themselves."

Irmo looked down at his plate, wondering if that was his fault. He had sent them the worst nightmares he could while they were alive, plaguing them with constant reminders of who they had once been, in comparison to the monsters they had become. "Oh."

"At least you don't have all of them," Varie reminded him.

"I almost wouldn't mind the minstrel," The Vala of Death replied. "I doubt he would be so difficult as his brothers."

Nienna gave an abnormally loud sob. Irmo reached to pat her shoulder, stretching awkwardly while trying not to bother Estë who leaned on his other shoulder. "There, there," he soothed.

"It's so terrible!" Nienna wailed.

Estë jumped, startled into awareness by the sudden noise. "What happened?" she asked in alarm.

Irmo patted her shoulder. "Just my sister," he whispered.

Varie looked up from her sketch, giving her brother-in-law a harsh look. Irmo forced a smile and turned to his sister. "What is the matter?"

"The poor Children," she sobbed. "Have we taught them nothing? Where does this hate come from?" Her words were punctuated by sobs, making them difficult to understand. Thankfully Irmo was more than acclimated to her speech patterns.

"Everything will be fine in he the end, I am certain." Irmo looked to his brother for help. Namo was once again sitting with his eyes closed and did not see the look. Irmo kicked him under the table.

"All we can do is guide," Namo rumbled.

Nienna sniffled and managed to calm down enough to nibble her way through her meal. Anticipating more havoc, Irmo began to eat as quickly as possible.

Varie finished her sketch as the others began their desert. She sighed and passed it to her husband, who barely glanced at it before congratulating her with with a nod.

Irmo caught a glance and immediately regretted his decision. Nothing takes away hunger like a gruesome depiction of the Second Age. He smiled, hiding his nausea.

"May I see?" Estë asked sleepily. Varie passed the paper across the table, but unfortunately Nienna got to it first. The Valie of pity and mercy wailed upon seeing the sketch and began to sob noisily, hiding her face in her arms.

Irmo glared at his brother. Your turn.

Namo glanced sideways at his sister and then his eyes flicked back to Irmo. No.

Yes.

Nienna was still sobbing noisily, and Estë was attempting to pull the sketch from her hands. "Let me see!" she pleaded.

Finally Nienna relented her grip and Estë looked down at the sketch. "Oh," she whispered. She seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "Well," she offered brightly, "I've seen worse." Her words, evidently meant to calm Nienna, failed.

The sobbing woman looked up, staring in horror at the Valie of Healing. For a moment everyone was silent. Estë was looking at Nienna with a forced smile. Varie was staring at her sketch, trembling in Estë hand. Namo and Irmo were still holding their silent contest of wills.

Then Nienna screamed and fled the room. Estë dropped the sketch in alarm – unfortunately into her soup – and hurried after her. Irmo and Namo released one another's gaze to stare after the women. Varie was staring, somewhere between heartbreak and horror, at her soggy sketch.

Irmo decided not to say anything to the Valie of Weaving, and instead raced after his wife. Namo looked over at his wife, and decided he was better off chasing Nienna (his idea of chasing was a stately walk).

Irmo found Nienna and Estë in the sitting room. Nienna was sobbing on a couch, and Estë was attempting to explain herself. "It was only a fact, Nienna."

"How could you!"

"I didn't hurt them!"

"You hardly seemed upset!"

"I was trying to calm you down!"

Irmo passed Estë, squeezing her shoulder as he did, and hurried to Nienna's side. He sat beside her uncertainly. "Nienna," he whispered. "Shhhh, it's fine." Namo slowly walked up beside them, watching but not helping.

She continued to cry, but the sobs seemed to steady somewhat. Irmo hesitantly pulled her into his arms and hushed her. Gently he reached out and touched her mind, coaxing her to sleep. "There, there," he soothed. Her sobs calmed and her breathing evened, until finally she dropped off to sleep.

"Why can't I go to sleep?" Estë asked. "It's daylight. I sleep during the day."

Irmo sighed. "Alright, love, if you insist."

She turned to leave the room, only to find that the doorway was occupied by Varie. The Weaver was holding a soggy sketch, stained with soup, while glaring at the other Valie.

"Sweet dreams Varie," Estë said, attempting to pass her. Irmo afraid of another conflict, looked down at his sleeping sister. He stood, pulling her with him, and passed her to Namo before hurring forward to place himself between the two women. Namo, unbalanced by the sudden added weight, lowed himself onto the couch, with Nienna sleeping soundly in his arms.

"Varie it was an accident," Irmo said.

"She ruined my sketch. They are never as nice the second time."

Estë shot back, "You shouldn't have brought it!"

"You sleep through dinner," Varie reminded her.

"No I didn't." She turned to her husband. "I just dozed."

Irmo quickly nodded in agreement. "She was awake."

Before anything else could go wrong, Namo loudly cleared his throat. They turned to see him holding his sister and looking decidedly unhappy about it. "Irmo?"

Varie took their distraction as ample time to step on Este's foot. Este howled and shoved Varie out of spite, sending her into a bookshelf. Varie vanished, reappearing on the other side of the room. The shelf was not so lucky, however, teetering for a moment before crashing to the floor. Estë screamed as it missed her by less than an inch. Namo pulled Nienna against his chest and covered her ears, to prevent her from waking. Irmo groaned, grabbed Este, and tried to pull her back.

"She stepped on my foot," Este said in disbelief.

Irmo patted her head. "Don't take it personally," he advised. She was shorter than he, and he rested his chin on her head, closing his eyes and hoping that everything would return to normal when he opened them.

A knock sounded on the door to the study, and Irmo groaned. "Now what?" he asked weakly. He opened his eyes and looked around, admittedly disappointed that everything was still as hectic as before.

"Come in!" Namo called. Irmo was tempted to remind his brother that this was his home, and he was in charge, but decided it would have little impact. Its not as if I want to deal with this anyhow.

Olorin leaned in the door, seeming deeply concerned. "We wanted to ask if everything was alright."

"Everything is fine," Varie assured him.

Olorin winced. "Oh. Well, Eonwe was here, and went to fetch Lord Manwe."

"He did what?" Irmo asked sharply.

"On whose authority?" Varie demanded.

Olorin frowned. "His own, I believe. He can be paranoid at times. I personally believe it comes from spending too much time on Arda Marred."

They all turned to look at Irmo, who was frantically pulling his hair. Realizing what was going on he snapped, "What?"

"Well it is your home," Varie said.

And your drama. Irmo did not tell his sister-in-law what he so desperately wanted to say, instead he replied, "We are not going to panic, should Lord Manwe decide to come, we will merely explain the misunderstanding."

"I would be more than happy to blame Eonwe," Olorin offered.

Irmo grinned. "No, I doubt that will be necessary. You may leave."

Olorin almost seemed unwilling to move, but after a firm glance from Irmo he slipped from the room and closed the door behind him.

"Now what are we to do?"

"Someone move Nienna," Namo finally spoke.

I put her to sleep; I've done my fair share of the work. Irmo moved to help his brother carefully shift Nienna, laying her on the couch and allowing Namo to stand. He looked to his brother with a raised eyebrow.

You deal with this, Manwe listens to you. Irmo said, "Let us simply sit and talk, so that everyone can be calm should Manwe arrive."

They (thankfully) took his advice, and everyone settled down to sit and wait. "What about Nienna?" Varie asked, finally breaking the strained silence that had occurred.

"Just leave her," Namo replied. "It is hardly the first time we have taken drastic measures to calm her down." Or the most drastic ever, those words were meant for, and heard by, Irmo only. Then Namo turned to look at his brother and asked, "Will she be calm when she awakes?"

"Yes, I've given her wonderful dreams," Irmo promised.

"Can I go to sleep now?" Este asked, leaning against her husband.

Irmo smiled. "Not now."

"Why?"

"We need your support if Manwe arrives."

"Oh." She smiled and nodded, then brightly asked, "What are we going to talk about?"

Irmo bit back a laugh. Nienna was still asleep, Namo was sitting straight and tall in his chair with his eyes closed, and Varie was staring at her ruined sketch as though it had been viciously murdered.

"Anyone?" Este looked to her husband, encouraging him to speak.

"Have you heard from the others?" Irmo asked.

For a moment it seemed no one was going to speak. "I've heard a lot of cursing from Aule," Este said.

Varie seemed interested. "Truly?"

Este nodded. "I was by to check on a Maia who managed to sustain several substantial burns. He's angry at the one that joined Morgoth."

"Mairon?"

"Yes."

"Yavanna's angry too, apparently he set a forest on fire."

Irmo perked. "I hadn't heard that."

Este said, "Lady Yavanna mentioned it. Well, shouted."

Irmo laughed and shook his head.

"She can swear better than I expected."

"Oh?" Varie smirked. "Like what?"

Before Este could reply the door opened and Manwe strode in, looking somewhere between concerned and angry.

Unfortunately he heard several of the words Este listed, before she saw him and quieted. "Hello," she said quickly, blushing. Irmo hid his face in her hair with a soft groan. It was hardly difficult to imagine Varie knew Manwe was arriving at that moment.

"Is someone dying?"

Irmo assured him, "No. Everything is quite alright."

Manwe scowled. "Truly? My herald thought that someone was dying."

"I apologize," Irmo said. Though it is entirely not my fault. "We were having a family dinner."

"Family dinner?"

It went better than any of yours. Irmo heard the words his wife was thinking and quickly wrapped his hand over her mouth.

He smiled innocently at Manwe. "We were just going to start desert, would you care to join us?"

"No." With a frustrated sigh, the Elder King strode from the room.

Irmo sunk into his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. "I am never suggesting another family gathering."

Este was still mumbling about being kept up all day, but quickly becoming too tired to complain too terribly much. She laid down beside him, and leaned her head on his leg. "Yes dear," she laughed. He sat and stroked her hair as she drifted off to sleep.

Perhaps next time we can meet at night, when Estë is awake.