A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Last "normal" chapter here; I'll be posting two more chapters detailing the conclusion of Fëanor's plans after this, and then the epilogue.
Obviously, by now, I don't own the Tolkien characters.
The Game of the Gods, 30
"I never knew there was a shortcut to Taniquetil in the middle of Valinor," said Morgoth in wonder, since it seemed they had simply stepped through a door and come out again on the top of the mountain.
Varda gave him a long-suffering glance. "And why would we tell you?"
"Point," Morgoth admitted, and looked around curiously. The halls of Manwë and Varda hadn't changed much from the last time he was there; they were still insufferably pretty and pure and perfect. The only noticeable change was a humming that seemed to rattle the vaults, and compete with the never-ending singing of the Vanyar.
"Manwë's meditating again," Varda muttered, and strode forward. Morgoth followed, suddenly wondering if he really wanted to be in the room when Varda and Manwë were having a little domestic quarrel.
"There you are."
The humming broke apart, and Manwë said in a majestic voice, "Varda. So good of thee to come. I suppose thou hast figured out I set Fëanor free?" He looked around his wife and nodded to Morgoth. "Be welcome here, brother, in the home of those who were thine enemies, but are now thy friends, now that thou hast been tended and returned to light."
Morgoth stared at him, then said, "Excuse me?"
"And Fëanor's sons are also out of Mandos!" Varda was ranting on, ignoring them both. "What kind of King of Arda are you? Did you really think that they wouldn't cause havoc?"
Morgoth leaned around her, to try to see Manwë more closely. "Excuse me," he said. "What was that bit about me being redeemed and returned to light?"
Manwë smiled benignly at him. "Thou art, of course. Wert thou not part of the group of Valar trying to turn Fëanor back? Thou art of the light again, though thy methods, I must confess," he said, looking at the box of Sues, "leave a little to be desired. But even that will rebound in the end to the glory of Eru."
"I am not on the side of the Valar," said Morgoth, horrified that anyone could have that idea. Has everyone been thinking this? Have I just given Tulkas another reason to laugh up those short sleeves he wears to show off his biceps at me? At least, when I was the Lord of Evil, I was true to myself.
"But thou art," said Manwë, with the serenity that had long made Morgoth want to smack him, and had driven him to seek solitude in the Void in the first place, since Eru didn't approve of smacking. "Of course thou art. Thou wert working in harmony to fulfill Eru's plans for the destiny of His children."
"Given that," said Varda icily, "why did you let Fëanor out of Mandos? He was supposed to stay there."
Manwë turned misty eyes on her. "Thou must know-"
"Manwë! We've talked about the archaism."
Manwë sighed. Speaking as if the words caused physical pain, he said, "I let him go because I wanted to show- you that the worst can be redeemed. I know that his plan will rebound to the greater glory of Eru. All things do."
"You know what his plan is, then?" Varda asked with savage quickness.
"Well, no." Manwë closed his eyes. "But it will still rebound to the greater glory of Eru. I can comprehend what Fëanor might have done, had he been allowed to live. And all things would have rebounded to the greater glory of Eru. So this will rebound-"
"Make him stop saying that," Morgoth appealed to Varda.
"I wish I could," Varda muttered, and then addressed her husband again. "Are you going to help us catch Fëanor?"
"I want to show you why I set him free from Mandos," said Manwë, with only a little wince at the pronoun this time. "I wish to show you how the worst of the worst can be redeemed." He turned to Morgoth. "You must have a Sue in your carven box that fits this category. Place her into play, and I will show you how she can be brought back from the brink of darkness."
Morgoth stared at him, then at Varda. "He's not serious?"
"Apparently so." Varda was now scowling so hard that Morgoth was vaguely surprised he couldn't feel the evil in the world increasing. "But I say we do it. It's the only way to stop him from just whisking Fëanor away somewhere else when we do catch up with him."
Morgoth hesitated for a long moment. He didn't want to be on the side of the Valar-
I do not even want to consider that I could have been.
But if Fëanor wasn't shut away in Mandos again, then the Elf would go on making his life miserable.
Resignedly, Morgoth opened the box and looked in, searching for a Sue. At last he pulled out a slender Elven girl and set her in the middle of the floor.
Manwë examined her for a moment, then nodded. "Not too bad," he said. "Some things must change, but ye-"
"Manwë," said his wife.
"You," the King of Arda said with a grumpy sigh, "will see how easily they can be fixed." He snapped his fingers, and the Sue began to move.
"That's my privilege-" Morgoth began, but Varda's hand on his shoulder reminded him it really wasn't worth it. Sulkily, he began the story.
-----
Rapture stared out the window, tears pouring down her face. Until today she had been the happiest of the happy elven maidens of Mirkwood, but that was before her father, King Thranduil, had forbidden her to leave home and follow her brother Legolas to Rivendell. He had said she couldn't do it because she was a girl-
-----
"What does that have to do with it?" Manwë inquired.
Morgoth sighed, and wondered how to explain the finer points of Sue-etiquette to Manwë. Given how little luck Varda had in persuading him of such points among the Valar, he didn't think he was capable of it.
"A lot of Sues think Elvish women can't do anything but sit around home and wear dresses and cry," he said at last.
"Why not?'
Morgoth shook his head. "They simply have that idea."
"But it is a false idea," said Manwë, "and it must be changed. Seeing into the depths of Rapture's soul to transform her requires bringing her into line with the laws of the world, even as Fëanor's redemption will bring him into line with the laws of the world. Let us begin the story again, and change certain of the words so that Rapture avoids this particular trap and becomes redeemable."
Morgoth sighed. "Fine."
-----
Rapture stared out the window, tears pouring down her face. She had wanted to join her brother Legolas on the ride to Rivendell, to report the news of the creature Gollum's escape, but her father, King Thranduil, had said that risking one of his children to carry the news was quite enough. Rapture would miss Legolas, and the shades of Mirkwood seemed lonelier without him.
She sighed, turned away from the window, and gathered up the magical amulet that lay across the bed-
-----
"The what?"
Morgoth groaned his teeth. Yes, he was going to get bored explaining Sue-etiquette to Manwë very quickly.
"Most Sues have some powerful magic," he said patiently. "A sword, a jewel, a unicorn- something that makes them special."
"But a sword or a jewel or a horse with a horn can't make them special," said Manwë. "It might be one thing if these were reflections of their true honor, like the title of High King deposited upon Finwë because of his greatness and bravery, but I sense no such depth to Rapture."
"It's just often assumed to be there," Morgoth mumbled.Ages in Arda and I still don't know as much as my naïve brother.
Manwë shook his head serenely. "This is another area in which she will have to be rewritten."
----
Rapture sighed and turned from the window, opening the door to seek out her father. She knew that she probably needed to talk to him, and that he might want to talk to her.
She found him in the throne room, gazing moodily out the window at the clouds floating past-
----
"What clouds? Thranduil's palace is underground."
"But that's not fun for a Sue," said Morgoth, confident he was on firmer ground here. After all, Manwë himself lived on vaults on the top of Taniquetil, not in a hole. And he never stayed long in Mandos when he visited, either. He must understand this. "They want to be some place where they can lean on balconies and sigh and watch clouds floating by."
"But she doesn't really need to sigh, does she, if we are to redeem her from the angsty Sue she is into a true Elf?" Manwë asked.
Morgoth frowned. Giving up writing Sues is harder than I thought. "No, I suppose she doesn't need it," he admitted.
"Then place her underground," said Manwë, leaning back. "I trust you to rewrite this portion of the story."
Morgoth proceeded, keeping a wary eye on Varda, who was glaring at her husband as if she wanted to murder him for the delay. If she did decide to do it, Morgoth would jump aside; he wanted both out of the way and a good seat for the show.
-----
She found her father beside the underground river, gazing moodily into it. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and his face lit with a smile. He looked wizened and old in the light of the torches.
----
Morgoth stopped. For a moment, he and Manwë sat in silence, and then Morgoth started panicking.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded of his brother.
"Do to thee?" Manwë just smiled at him.
"I knew that I shouldn't describe Thranduil that way, because Elves don't get old!" yelled Morgoth, and leaped to his feet. He was shaking. "I stopped because I thought of it, not because you told me to! Take whatever stupid charm of goodness and light you worked off me!"
"I put no charm on thee," said Manwë, and now he was smiling. "Thou art just another example of how that which was corrupted may be healed, how that which was brought low may be brought back to the heights, how that-"
"Manwë," said Varda.
Manwë sighed. "The language, or the archaism?"
"Both."
The King of Arda sighed again, but fixed his gaze calmly on Morgoth. "I did nothing to you. You did it to yourself, if you may call it anything. Now, finish the story. I think you'll find it most easy now that I'm no longer helping you."
Shuddering, Morgoth sat down and returned to the story of Rapture, whom he was now beginning to hate violently.
----
"Daughter," said the King, with a short nod, the torches flickering on his handsome face. "What troubles you?"
"The same thing that hangs heavy on your own heart, Father," Rapture admitted, embracing him for a moment and then walking beside him towards the stairs. "I fear for Legolas, and more, I fear for what the escape of the creature Gollum means. If darkness is stirring again, then how long can the light we have raised here endure?"
"I do not know," said Thranduil, and paused a moment to gaze at a torch. "We will flicker, and perhaps not be smothered by Sauron. But after that, the doom either of fading or the call of the Sea must extinguish our light. The only grace we may hope for is to choose the time of our fading."
Rapture closed her eyes. Once, she might have raged in bitterness against the doom that lay on her and her people, but those days had long since passed. She had lived her life among the reminders of mortality- the leaves that fell in the autumn, the animals that flourished and died too quickly for an Elf to bear, the sudden death at the end of a spider's mandibles that came to some of the Mirkwood Elves. She knew what the world was really like, and railing about it made no difference.
She had passed beyond that bitterness, to something like peace.
And as her father said, she had chosen the way of her fading. She meant to leave Mirkwood soon, to journey in silence and in secret West to the sea. She would judge if it had any power over her heart or not, and if it did not, then she would return to dwell the rest of her days in Mirkwood while memory and song still lived beneath the leaves and stone. If the waves spoke to her, she would sail West.
Of course, she might never have to know. She could stay here and just wait, far from the call of the gulls. In fact, journeying West felt suspiciously like running away from the threat that Sauron represented.
But that, too, was a decision Rapture had confronted and come to accept. If she remained in the wood, she was hiding from the sea, and she would not represent a mighty asset. One sword would, in the end, do little in the war against Sauron. And Rapture, who had always been a healer, did not want to let the corruption of the sword into her soul by wielding one.
It was different from her father, who had fought long and hard to preserve his realm. Rapture was certain he would understand her desire, though, and acquiesce to her plan.
The halls echoed with the fading footsteps of the two Elves.
------
"Hmmm," said Manwë and nodded. "Some faults still remaining- the lack of an Elvish name, too much exposition- but she might come to adapt nicely, and it would be a story about Rapture rather than a story about Rapture saving the world."
Morgoth let out his breath, and then was annoyed with himself for finding he had actually felt suspense concerning Manwë's judgment. The idiot judges everything beneficially, he reminded himself. It's not like he actually has a choice.
"So now, you see," Manwë went on, smiling, "that the worst can be redeemed. I let Fëanor out of Mandos to let him have that chance. And you and your Sue, Morgoth, have proved my point."
"And Fëanor's sons?" asked Varda, who seemed a little more relaxed. Morgoth regretted that. He supposed being in the vaults and listening to the singing of the Vanyar would have that effect on her, since she was good. The singing just grated on his ears like the croaking of the Balrogs in breeding season. "Did you give them permission to leave Mandos so they might aid in their father's redemption?"
Manwë blinked gently at her. "I never gave them permission."
Morgoth swallowed in a throat gone suddenly dry. Varda stood up straight.
"This isn't funny, Manwë," she said threateningly. "I thought you couldn't lie-"
"I can't, of course." Manwë smiled gently at her. "I am pleased that they are free, because I think it a shame they were cooped up so long and suffered so much, but I did not give them permission."
"Then," Varda said in a whisper, "either Mandos was lying, which means he has somehow become corrupted, or-" She closed her eyes. Morgoth could almost feel her brain racing in furious thought. For that matter, his own was.
If not Manwë, then who?
"We must go," said Varda. Morgoth looked at her to see that the light from her face had grown almost dim enough to be comfortable. "If this means what I think it does, then-"
She never got to finish the sentence. A cry echoed from the West, and for a moment the Vanyar shut up, probably in sheer surprise. Varda whipped around.
"Tulkas," she said. "And he sounds frightened."
Of course, she started running West. Morgoth hesitated. Why are people always going towards blood-curdling screams?
"I would like to talk to thee about thy redemption," said Manwë, leaning forward. "Obviously, now that thou art upon the side of the Valar, thou-"
Morgoth began running after Varda. There was always the chance that something really funny had happened to Tulkas. And anything was better than listening to Manwë natter on about his redemption.
Which doesn't exist. I am not helping the Valar, Morgoth reassured himself firmly. I am not. It is an alliance of political convenience, and the moment I am through with them, I shall unleash the Sues all at once and shatter Arda.
That was a rather pleasant image, but it only lasted until he remembered that Fëanor had found something that made Tulkas scream. If they couldn't defeat that…
A burning anger began to grow in Morgoth.
I am the Dark Power of the world. Not some upstart Elf. I shall devastate whatever he has found, and reclaim my title. In all ways. No more helping the Valar.
I think Morgoth has some issues he really needs to work out, as Nienna would say.