Disclaimer: *scowls*
A/N: Hehehe. I'm updating for a change! By the way, the whole "got" vs "gotten" grammar mess up here is because I'm using British English. Vesak Day updatttttte!
*
What have we got ourselves into this time?
Ecthelion nervously cast glances around him. His fellow Gondolindrim looked equally fidgety, and even Turgon looked slightly unsettled and apprehensive. Looking somewhat fearfully at the gathering of valar and valier, the Lord of the Fountains edged closer to the rest of the Lords of Gondolin.
Manwe settled comfortably into his stone-and-mithril-and-elven-glass-and-everything-else throne at the head of the Ring (which was not sanely possible, seeing as the ring was round), and cleared his throat importantly. Ecthelion was not sure, but he swore he heard the phrase "overconfident snerk" come from Tulkas. The Lord of the Breath of Arda (...) began to speak.
'The Sons of Feanor,'
'And Feanor himself,' Tulkas smoothly interrupted.
'The Sons of Feanor and Feanor himself,' Manwe growled, staring at his fellow vala, 'have awoken again and *somehow* left Mandos.'
Ecthelion swore that he saw Namo's eyebrow twitch, and that the temperature of the room had dipped slightly. The wind about them picked up slightly, and the elves huddled together, trying to appear as insignificant as possible. Namo, glowering at Manwe under hooded eyelids, spoke in his deathly quiet voice.
'How the Feanorians escaped is beyond me. Maybe it is bound to the Oath, and that they have awoken, just as the silmarils have.'
Nienna and Yvanna, who were sitting together, started a soft lament, causing Aule to roll his eyes. Nienna sobbed, heartbroken.
'The silmarils! We could have saved the trees with the silmarils! Why did he keep the silmarils? Why couldn't he have given us the silmarils? Everything could have turned out better if it weren't for the silmarils! The accursed, useless silmarils!'
By then, most of the Ring of Doom were staring at her, but in a state of carefree oblivion, the valie wept on shamelessly. Manwe, looking rather miffed at his council being disrupted so, cleared his throat again, and the wind speed picked up a few more notches.
'What are we to do about it now?'
Irmo took his turn to look annoyed, and several specks of diamond dust started to appear about the Ring, making it seem as if in a dream.
'Whatever it is, you had better get rid of them fast. They are,' There the vala went all spirit-cast-forthish again, 'in my gardens, and Feanor is tearing his hair out over Miriel. The flowers are wilting.'
Ecthelion swore that he saw the sky darken. Ulmo, getting rather fired up by the debate, happily threw himself into the fray.
'What about me? My elven seneschal is being tormented by a number of whelps who are supposed to help him!'
There the Lord of the Waters glared at Manwe. The wind was beginning to act up a bit, and the moisture in the air seemed to have increased. Irmo stood by his brother, and the skies began to darken. Aule jumped up.
'The silmarils are great crafts! We cannot simply destroy them!'
Flames were beginning to leap up around his feet. Ecthelion shuffled again. Angry valar were never fun to be around. Yavanna, slightly incensed that her husband was angry, was getting slightly worked up herself.
'We must not destroy the last remains of the Two Trees!'
Ecthelion swore that her hair was starting to look distinctly plant like, and the thorns on her chair looked distinctly longer. Elbereth stood as well.
'One of my stars, and no less! I will not have it destroyed!'
The sky glowed dangerously, as if to prove Varda's point. For a moment, all was silent save the tapping of Nessa's feet, the hushing sounds of Este as she tried to soothe Nienna and general, intangible boredom of the valar who were unconcerned. Then, all hell (fine, Mandos) broke loose. Manwe shouted at his wife.
'We must get rid of them!'
The air stirred at Manwe's wrath, and a heavy wind whipped about the Ring. All the elves had to cling onto their hair, swishing and trying to stop the loose strands from getting in their face. Turgon desperately looked for an exit, but Mandos had barred the exit. Elbereth, now thoroughly peeved, stood up against her husband.
'Who are you to say so? You never make the good decisions! Now the inner walls of Taniquetil are covered in ugly, yellow decor, thanks to you!'
Miffed, the sky began to glow brighter, while the wind howled as Manwe shot back,
'I happen to like the colour yellow!'
Namo screeched at the two in his best Doomsman voice.
'CAN YOU NOT SEE? WE MUST SOMEHOW STOP THIS DESTRUCTION!'
The Ring darkened, and only the glowing forms of the valar could be seen as they fought. Irmo snapped and screamed alongside his brother.
'They are a NUISANCE! We should have obliterated them from the face of Arda (and Aman) before this even began! And you, brother, should have foreseen this!'
Star dust exploded about the place as Irmo turned against his own kin. Mandos looked insulted.
'I should not reveal what could be! YOU LITTLE PESTILENCE OF A BROTHER, ALL YOU EVER DO IS DREAM ANYHOW!'
Namo's voice rumbled around the Ring as the brother's fought. Yavanna was sprouting nightshade and thorn bushes everywhere.
'They were my trees! I should be the one to decide what to do with them!'
Aule was now a flaming ball, shooting sparks at Ulmo who in turn conjured a miniature tidal wave. Ecthelion took one look at his lord and they fled from the Ring of Terror (as Mandos had kindly neglected covering for the exit, being far too busy in changing the colours of the sky from purple to green). Sparks could still be seen from Tuna for days after.
*
Their time in Lothlorien was over. The Company was sobered as they spent their last evening in the Royal Talan, unwilling to wander out into the wild where they would be in danger, exposed to crebain, orcs, untrustworthy maia, Uruk-Hai and other beings which could generally stick them through with sharp, pointed objects. Silei was pushing the elvish food (which looked, frankly, like puree-d lembas) around her plate as Sara stuck toothpicks through the garnish. Ren was drumming her fingers on the table, oblivious to both the food and the poisoned glares Galadriel as sending her way. As Celeborn desperately tried to calm her, Inez stuck two olives into the Mash (as she had aptly named the thing she assumed was a form of mashed potatoes) and dragged her fork in a semi-circle to form a Nezzy Logic (TM) smiley face. Glorfindel sighed, giving Ren a non-too-subtle kick under the table, which startled the human and sent the fork which was near to her hand flying, very nearly impaling Haldir, who had been approaching the table. The Marchwarden ducked, fortunately, and the utensil embedded itself somewhat harmlessly in a mallorn branch.
Clearing his throat, he approached Galadriel.
'My lady the -'
Distractedly, Galadriel ate her food as she answered the captain.
'Yes, Haldir, I know the preparations are complete.'
'Well, then we should be-'
'No, they do not need the boats. They will be taking a detour through to Mirkwood, I mean Greenwood.'
'My lady, should we then-'
'Yes, yes, give them the lembas packs.'
'The six-'
'The twelve packs will be fine.'
'And what about-'
'The gift-giving will commence as planned, thank you. You may go.'
Scowling, Haldir left the talan.
Mind reading eldar. Huh, who needs
them?