Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Here's the Fëanor chapter. I really had fun writing it. But then, Fëanor's my favorite Tolkien character, so that's not surprising.

The Game of the Gods, 10

For long moments, Morgoth eyed Fëanor. Fëanor seemed to be eying Morgoth's throat.

"Your move, I said," Morgoth repeated, irritation overcoming caution, and good sense, and memory.

Fëanor shook his head. "I'll move later," he whispered, leaning forward as though to get a better look at the Sue- or the place where Morgoth's jugular would have beat if he had a jugular. Morgoth wasn't quite sure.

Morgoth glared at him, upset with himself for being afraid. He's just an upstart Elf, he reasoned. One who died even before he could challenge me.

One who died...

Ah-ha!

"I've changed my mind," said Morgoth with false sweetness, taking the Sue he had intended to use off the board and putting another one, bristling with weapons and spiked hair, in her place. "I'm using this one."

Fëanor looked at the Sue, and started laughing.

"What?" Morgoth asked in irritation.

"You could at least give me a challenge," said Fëanor, who was already wiping away tears of mirth. "This reminds me of the time that Aulë challenged me to create stones that could see far away. I made them in about an hour. And Aulë thanked me and took them away somewhere, even thought I could have made better ones." He frowned suddenly. "I do wonder what happened to my palantíri. I don't suppose you know?" He looked at Morgoth.

"No, no, not at all," said Morgoth hastily, while making a mental note to speak with Sauron as soon as possible. "And I think this Sue will be more of a challenge than you realize."

Fëanor yawned. "Varda promised this game would be interesting. I hope she's right."

Morgoth scowled and began his story.

------

Juliardianselaáfalayu-

------

"What?" asked Fëanor.

"That's her name," said Morgoth. "I don't really care if you like it or not."

"Say it again," said Fëanor, who had grabbed a piece of paper and a quill from a convenient nowhere.

Morgoth shrugged and said it again.

------

Juliardianselaáfalayu.

------

"Yes," Fëanor was muttering as he wrote. "A glide there, a line there, a dot there..."

Morgoth watched in silence. He was well-aware that his enemy was quite talented, but he had also gone mad with boredom in Mandos. I, Morgoth thought sourly, should know about that.

Fëanor sat up with a smile that managed to be arrogant all on its own, without even the addition of his voice, and pushed the paper across the table to Morgoth. Morgoth glared at the mess of scribbles, and then at the Noldo. "What is this?"

"A new form of tengwar," said Fëanor promptly. "I can write your Sue's name in just three elegant letters. See?"

Morgoth made out the three elegant letters, not that he wanted to. He angrily crumpled up the paper and threw it behind him.

Fëanor stared at the crumpled paper for a moment, then at Morgoth with burning eyes.

Morgoth cleared his throat hastily and went on with the story.

------

Juliardianselaáfalayu was the mightiest of the servants of Morgoth. She had the broadest sword, the fiercest desire for war, the oddest looks- bright blue hair with silver streaks and glowing golden eyes-

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"The longest name..." Fëanor whispered. "Though not in my new tengwar."

"Shut up," said Morgoth, and immediately regretted it as Fëanor looked at him again.

"Ah, yes," said Fëanor. "Of course. Of course I should shut up, because criticizing your Sue is a greater crime than killing my father, or stealing my Silmarils, or slaughtering the Trees, or tormenting my son..." His voice was rising as it went on.

Morgoth spoke as hastily as he could.

------

For those reasons, Juliardianselaáfalayu was feared, but she found that she had grown tired of fear. So she created an alter-ego, one called Flower-of-fire, and even found herself coming to think like that at times. It was as though she led two lives. Juliardianselaáfalayu was the torturer, the tormentor, the killer of Sindarin Elves from Beleriand to Eriador, the one who longed for her Lord to come back from the prisons of Valinor. Flower-of-fire was the kind one, the healer, the one who went to the Elves and taught them ways to resist Morgoth, should he ever come back.

The contradiction was destroying her, even before the Noldor Elves returned. No other living thing in the world suffered such pain.

------

"Ah, yes, of course. Because every other living thing in the world was involved in the Kinslaying, the abandonment of Fingolfin and his people, the deaths of many of the Noldor..."

"Can we concentrate on the story?" Morgoth asked nervously.

"No," said Fëanor, and sprang at Morgoth across the gaming table, tipping the Sue piece off the board.

------

One day, Juliardianselaáfalayu felt a tremor in the earth, and knew that her Lord must have returned. She hastened to meet him, feeling Flower-of-fire withering and dying inside.

She was caught in a rockslide, however, and went tumbling down the mountain, hurting her head.

------

"What are you doing?" Morgoth cried in fear, as Fëanor started to choke him.

"Saying hello," growled Fëanor. "There are an awful lot of people in Mandos who asked to be remembered to you. Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo, you bastard!" He choked Morgoth more tightly. Morgoth gasped, his flailing foot hitting the Sue piece.

------

Juliardianselaáfalayu recovered from the fall, only to go tumbling down the mountain. In exasperation, she rose to her feet and continued hurrying to meet her Lord.

He had come back with light that enchanted her, but that he was back at all marked the end of her freedom to help the Elves. She followed him back to Thangorodrim with Flower-of-fire dying inside her.

------

"...don't want to see such disgraceful behavior again. Do I make myself clear, Morgoth?"

Morgoth bowed his head. If only that wimp Manwë had come to deal with the fight, he probably could have gotten off with no more than a light scolding and a plea to reconsider his evil, which he could have laughed off. But Mandos had a way of making him feel like a little Ainu again.

"Yes, Mandos," he said meekly.

"Fëanor?"

Fëanor looked up haughtily. He didn't have a scratch on him, while Morgoth was nursing a broken nose and a sore throat. "What about it?"

"You won't do such a disgraceful thing again?"

Fëanor laughed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm surprised that you still consider I can do disgraceful things, after everything that's happened."

"You will come back to Mandos, Fëanor," said Mandos in a threatening voice.

"Not for the duration of this round, O Stern One," said Fëanor. "Now do go away. Morgoth was telling me the most fascinating story."

Mandos glared, and strode away shaking his head. No matter how many Ages he spent in the Timeless Halls, Fëanor just got worse to deal with instead of easier.

Fëanor turned attentively back to Morgoth. "Do go on."

Morgoth cleared his throat impressively.

-----

One day, the Elves returned, chasing her Lord. Juliardianselaáfalayu saw them come, and her heart yearned within her, for there was a light in their faces that she had never seen before. But over eight of them lay a darkness that made her wonder and fear. She drifted close to them when the Balrogs fled, hiding herself in the darkness as only she could. Morgoth had put part of himself into her, and in many ways she was the daughter he had never had.

------

"Nor are likely to have, if you are honest with yourself," said Fëanor. "Be honest, Morgoth. Who would want you?"

Morgoth thought of springing at Fëanor in turn. Then he thought of Mandos, and went back to his story.

-----

Even as Juliardianselaáfalayu watched, one of the elves began to burn. He was apparently dying.

-----

"That was you," Morgoth gloated.

"Yes, and how long did it take you to find out about it?" Fëanor yawned. "Really, your spy system wasn't what it could be."

-----

Juliardianselaáfalayu pressed dreamily closer. She could see, in the tall elf with the long red hair, someone whom she could easily love. She could also see that he was under the same dark presence, like an oath, that the others were. But that oath wouldn't drive him to evil except in the last extremity.

She decided that she would rush the tall elf and capture him for her Lord. Then, while he was in captivity, they could fall in love. She would keep his hope alive, and he would rekindle her Flower-of-fire.

-----

Morgoth looked up suspiciously. Fëanor just watched the board calmly, and glanced at him when he stopped. "Is something wrong?"

"She's about to take Maedhros back into torment," said Morgoth. "You seemed most upset about your son a moment ago."

"Maybe I've learned better," said Fëanor.

Morgoth pushed his chair a wary distance back from the gaming table and went on with his story.

-----

Juliardianselaáfalayu rushed out with a loud shriek. The red-haired elf heard her, and turned, lifting his sword to clash with hers. Juliardianselaáfalayu was confident, though, that she could defeat him. Was she not the greatest swordswoman of Morgoth, greater than any of the men, and possessed of the best sword?

Which was why she was quite surprised when the red-haired elf snapped her sword without pause and then drove his blade through her breast.

-----

Morgoth wailed as his Sue fell dead. "No! How did you do that?"

Fëanor laughed, richly and joyously. "It's true that you spoke to me of swords, Morgoth, but I forged my sons' blades," he said, seeming quite pleased with himself. "My crafting, against yours, and in the hands of one of my sons fresh from Valinor? It never was a contest."

Morgoth glared at him, panting hard. Then he smiled and placed his next piece on the board. "It seems that the round is ended. Back to Mandos you go."

"Oh, really?" Fëanor asked, standing and stretching.

"Yes," said Varda, approaching behind him. "Nice as the break was for me, Morgoth is right. You know full well why we can't have you out of Mandos for long."

"Reasons, reasons," said Fëanor. "I have a better reason right here." And he drew a long, slim sword from his side, so sharp that it cut the air and so thin that it disappeared when looked at straight on. It shone like ice. Varda retreated a cautious step, and Morgoth tried to hide behind the gaming table.

"Fëanor!" Varda tried for a threatening tone, but it came out pleading instead. "What will Mandos say, when he finds out?"

"I don't know, but he'll have to say it to you," said Fëanor. "I'm off to find someone who really has been gone too long. Farewell."

And off he rushed, making a stab at Varda as she tried to catch him. The Star-Kindler recoiled, and Fëanor vanished towards Valimar.

Varda stared after him for a moment, then muttered, "That's torn it. When I find out who let him near a bloody forge..."

Morgoth sat cautiously back down. "But he's not coming back right now?"

"No," said Varda shortly, sitting down, and continued muttering to herself. "It was probably Aulë. Him and his bloody bets!"

"Shall we still play?" Morgoth asked. "If you want to go hunt for Fëanor..."

"Fëanor on the loose is worse than Sues," Varda agreed, seeming tempted. Then her eyes fixed on Morgoth's new piece, and narrowed. "Except that one. I'll stay."

Morgoth sighed, in both disappointment and relief. He could have cheated, with Varda gone, but on the other hand, he was rather relieved that she was here to protect him from Fëanor.

He couldn't quite keep from several nervous glances over his shoulder, though.



Oh, man, that was so much fun.