Thank you again for the reviews! I'm really glad that people are enjoying this.

The Sue in this part is rather exotic, because she combines two of my pet peeves: environmentalist Sues and turning Middle-earth into Generic Fantasyland. And she necessitates two disclaimers: the Tolkien characters don't belong to me, and neither do the avariel. They belong to D&D, and I'm not claiming them.



The Game of the Gods, 13

Varda raised her head. "Morgoth, what's the matter? You're taking forever getting the next Sue. Just pick out the one in Valinor and get on with it."

Morgoth's head popped up over the table. "How did you know that I was going to pick one set in Valinor?"

"You curse Fingolfin when you're planning a Sue that doesn't land in the Ring Quest," Varda explained calmly.

"Really?" Morgoth sat up and put his Sue on the board. "I thought I would curse Fëanor."

"No, that's when you're bluffing." Varda stared at the Sue and shook her head. "You're quite sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes."

"She won't land in Valinor."

"Yes, I know." Morgoth managed a weak smile. "Someone had a little...talk with me about that."

Varda eyed the trickle of blood running from a sword wound in Morgoth's shoulder. "I see." She glanced at the Sue. "Well, put her in motion. I need another break after this, and I'll need to find someone else to play for me."

The air near her gave a hopeful whine.

"Not you, Saruman, so don't even ask."

The air grumbled, and the Sue went into motion.

------

Navaree stretched her wings and looked up at the sky. She had lingered here long enough, and knew it was time to leave.

Her parents and brothers and sisters had long since left, after they had given up trying to persuade her to come with them. They knew that the Mirkwood Elves were getting too violent and starting to kill all the magical creatures of the Forest, like unicorns-

------

"Morgoth..." Varda's voice was a growl.

"There might be unicorns," said Morgoth. "How do you know there aren't unicorns?"

Varda only shook her head.

Morgoth smiled and returned to the story.

-----

-and pixies and werewolves.

-----

"Pixies? Pixies?"

"How do you know there aren't?" Morgoth asked. "Maybe they all hid in the depths of Mirkwood because the Elves hunted them."

"The Elves didn't hunt them, because there were no pixies to hunt," said Varda, simmering like Arien.

Morgoth whispered loudly, "That's what you think," and went back to Navaree.

------

Navaree knew the Mirkwood Elves were too violent, but she had stayed to escort the last pixies to safety. Now she had to leave, and go and spare the life of another wonderful magical creature that the Elves and humans would hunt to death, if they could.

She glanced at a mirror that hung on the wall, admiring the pure white of her wings, which she thought went well with her golden eyes and skin pale as marble and pale hair. She was an avariel, a winged elf, one of the gentlest and most peaceful race of people on the planet. She and her people had learned to live without war or hunting and make the most beautiful music in the world, but the other Elves had grown jealous of them and driven them forth.

-----

Varda sighed and tapped the table.

"Something bothering you, Varda?" Morgoth asked.

"No avariel," said Varda. "Send her back to wherever she came from."

"But she doesn't snap Middle-earth just by being there," Morgoth pointed out. "No more than my Fairy did." He scowled a little at the thought of what had happened to Lassellee, then continued. "You can't prove that the avariel don't exist. They might. There's Harad, and Rhûn, and the north of Middle-earth. The avariel might live there for all you know."

"Just keep going," said Varda, putting her hand over her eyes. "Do I even what to know what rare magical creature she's going to go save?"

-----

She had heard that there was a last dragon in the Lonely Mountain, and she was going to save it. The humans slaughtered dragons, ripped them apart, smashed their eggs and forced them to fight, when they should be able to see that the dragons just wanted peace.

-----

"You made them for war, Morgoth."

"There was a secret group of peaceful dragons you didn't know about," said Morgoth haughtily.

Varda glared.

"That works for everything," said Morgoth happily, and turned back to Navaree.

------

Navaree flew strongly to the north, her wings beating with power and grace at the same time, her shadow running before her like a bird. The people her shadow touched started and glanced up, then stared in wonder. She seemed an angel sent to fly over Middle-earth.

------

"Morgoth, there aren't any angels in Arda." Varda sounded as if she were pleading by now. "You know that."

"But they don't know that," said Morgoth, gesturing to the staring people in the gamespace. "Besides, Gandalf might have been an angel."

Varda sighed.

-----

Navaree gasped when she saw the dragon, Smaug, roaring towards her. Someone had disturbed him already, she thought, perhaps slaughtered his mate or smashed his eggs.

Flying towards him, she spoke in the secret tongue of dragons. "Avad kschiteran kswhat?" Will you let me fly with you?

Smaug glanced at her. He hadn't seen an avariel in years, and didn't recognize her at first. But after he breathed one blast of fire, he recognized her, and agreed that she could fly with him.

Together, they headed towards the town that Navaree knew lay on a large lake. Together, perhaps they could persuade the humans not to hurt the dragon.

-----

"That's not even a well-made badly-made-up language."

"Yes, but you think Quenya is a stunningly pretty language, Varda. I wouldn't really trust your opinion."

-----

Navaree gasped as Smaug breathed out flame over the town. It went up at once, of course, and she flew behind him crying out in the dragon language, "Naveret kpstyan!" Stop! Please stop!

But then she saw that not all the humans were running. In fact, one of them was bending an arrow to aim at Smaug's breast.

Navaree flew downward as fast as she could. If she could just get to the man and plead for Smaug's life, point out that he was only an innocent animal and the humans must have provoked him...

She saw the human had a bird sitting on his shoulder, and relaxed a little. He couldn't be all bad if he could talk to birds.

Abruptly the bird fluttered and danced on the man's shoulder, and he turned and loosed the arrow.

Navaree cried out in anguish to think of the magnificent dragon's death, until she realized that the arrow was heading straight for her. She tried to take off, but the arrow went through her wing. She spiraled down into the lake, vainly fluttering to get to the shore.

She would have managed to swim to shore, she thought, but a burning piling falling on her head quite effectively put an end to that. The last sound she ever heard was Smaug's death-shriek.

Well, the last sound but one. She was quite sure that she heard the cackling song of thrush-laughter, too.

-----

Morgoth shook his head. "That was cheating, Varda. You know Bard didn't have two black arrows capable of killing a dragon."

Varda grinned at him. "Can you prove he didn't?"

There was a long, reflective pause. Then Morgoth said, "That is very annoying."

"Yes, it is," Varda agreed.

Morgoth sighed. "Very well. The next round?"

Varda frowned and stepped back from the table. "I meant it, about finding someone else to play for me," she said. "But I don't know where-"

A bundle dropped abruptly into the middle of the gaming table, making both the Valar jump. Morgoth cautiously edged forward and touched the bundle, then jumped back again when it started kicking.

Varda examined the note tied to the blanket. "It's from Fëanor," she said, unwrapping a fold of the cloth.

"And you're touching it?" Morgoth shrieked.

Varda hesitated, then stepped back. "You're right," she said. "He said he found someone to play the game for me, but knowing Fëanor..." Her voice trailed off, and they watched apprehensively as the blankets stirred.

They unpeeled at last, revealing a very angry and frustrated Elf. He stared at Varda in complete bewilderment.

Varda grinned. "Ah, yes. The game will do him good, and give me a break." She nodded to the Elf. "Welcome home, Maglor. Do enjoy the game." She turned and hurried away again.

Maglor's gaze went to Morgoth, and he paled. "Game?"

Morgoth smiled sweetly. "Yes, a game." Ah, this will be easy. The most soft-hearted of Fëanor's sons. How hard can it be?