Summary: Morgoth shows up. Enough said.
"Curses and salutations, one and all!" The Vala spread his arms wide, surveying the room of horrified, angry faces. "Ouch!" he pouted, recoiling in mock offense. "What, no pathetic insults, no curses damning me to hell?" He let out a scornful, mocking laugh and exchanged a look with Sauron, who stood rigidly silent with hands clasped in front of him, regarding everyone with the deadly intent of a bouncer.
Shaking in earnest from head to toe, and redder in the face than a ripe tomato, Fingolfin fished frantically in his pocket for the other sedative he had brought as a precautionary measure, but both pockets were empty. He broke out into a cold sweat as the realization dawned on him: he had taken both pills during the ceremony!
Fingolfin gazed upon the hated intruder with wide, crazed eyes. "Get thee gone, evil gangrel! Your foul presence is NOT welcome here!"
"Now, Poppa Fingolfin, don't get 'yer panties in a bunch, you're already a mess," Morgoth scolded playfully, as if placating a small child. "And tell your minions to put away those sorry extensions of their manhood!" He gestured to the many Noldo men still gripping their swords menacingly. "I've only come to pay my respects," he explained, giving a mocking bow.
Feanor, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of what was going on, as he had passed out right after his drunken rant and lay slumped in a chair, snoring soundly with goblet cradled against his chest.
"Holy Eru!" Morgoth suddenly became giddy with excitement and grabbed Sauron by his black leather lapel. "I just realized that, like, everyone on my Top Ten 'To Kill' list is here!" he tittered, literally bouncing with glee. "Pinch me, this has to be a dream come true!" he gushed, in a decidedly un-Vala-like manner.
Bug-eyed Fingolfin raised a shaky arm, leveling it at Morgoth like a spear. "Leave now, Cursed One! You shall pay for the damage you have caused here!"
Morgoth suddenly sobered and cocked his head thoughtfully. "Oh, you mean the kitchen? Aww, come on, is anyone home in that empty noggin of yours?" he retorted, rolling his eyes. "That meat was totally rancid, luv! I had to trash the place!" he explained dismissively, as if the action was a simple no-brainer, while mortified gasps filled the air.
"But this on the other hand," the Vala paused, snatching a half-full goblet from an unsuspecting young Vanya male and taking a deep drink, licking his lips in satisfaction, "is the only thing keeping me from burning this joint to a crisp! Thanks, luv," he said off-handedly, casually tossing the goblet back to the poor young 'un and sending bright crimson liquid everywhere. "Oops! Never wear silky lingerie to a social event," he mockingly chastised the shocked victims of the assault. A discreet nudge from Sauron made him stop and gaze in the Maia's direction.
"Awwwwww, look at the fornicating couple!" Morgoth gushed sarcastically, clasping his hands together as he gazed with ill intent on Turgon and Elenwe. "Wait, don't move! I'll come to you!" With that, the Vala impatiently pushed his way through to the head table like a charging bull:
THUD!
"Excuse me!"
BANG! SMASH!
"Sorry about that!"
"Owww!" "Hey!"
"Move it, worms!"
At last Morgoth stood towering before the newlyweds. Fingolfin, bloated and blistery though he was, stood also, trying to look as threatening as one could with a swollen face and bulging eyes. A seriously pissed off Turgon rose to his feet, shielding a blushing Elenwe.
"Poppa, look at you." Morgoth shook his head condescendingly at Fingolfin. "Relax before your ugly head explodes!" Then he smirked in great satisfaction and stepped around the table next to Turgon. "And here's the young stud!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arm around Turgon in a near-death grip. "Ready to take the long journey of marriage and kids and...all that crap!" he waved his hand dismissively. "And with a Vanya breed at that! Very brave!"
A choked sob came from one end of the table.
Morgoth rolled his eyes. "Cut it out, Finarfin! No one can take any more gentle sobbing! Is it that time of the month or something?" he looked at a stricken Earwen, on the verge of tears herself. "Boy, the question is not 'who wears the pants in that family,' it's 'who doesn't wear a skirt in that family'!" he murmured derisively in Turgon's ear. Trapped in the evil Vala's headlock, poor Turgon could only glare angrily up at him.
Morgoth laughed suddenly. "Hey, you know something?" he exclaimed, pinching Turgon's cheek. "Out of all you worms in this land that grovel under my glorious feet, this little worm," he emphasized, tousling Turgon's hair, "is the only one that, deep in my black heart, scares the living hell out of me!" He laughed again, a high-pitched, deranged sound no doubt an effect of the punch's 'secret ingredient.'
"I mean, every time I look at the little cretin I just get chills!" the Vala prattled on. "And I get this totally yucky feeling of dread like he's going to be my downfall or something!" he chuckled heartily as if discussing the latest gossip. He let out a wistful sigh and fixed his gaze on Fingolfin. "What do you make of it, Poppa?"
Definitely at a code red, Fingolfin could only spit out an incoherent curse.
Morgoth rolled his eyes and released Turgon with sudden force, practically shoving him into a chair. "Oh, stop whining, you should be proud of your boys! One's marrying a hot blonde and the other's got the hots for a shapely redhead!" He snorted derisively, clearly relishing the angry chaos he was creating.
Maedhros ran out of the hall in a silent fury. Fingon sat in grim thought as he studied the blade of his cutting knife.
Morgoth smiled crookedly, as well as a drunken Vala could, down at Turgon. "Ah well, no matter. Still going to kill you anyway."
Suddenly a loud shout of rage pierced the air and all eyes shifted to the corner where it had come from: Feanor, wide-eyed and very conscious, stood atop the table, holding aloft a small hunting knife and glaring at Morgoth.
"Death to tyrants!" he yelled, leaping wildly off of the table and falling clumsily into several guests. Nerdanel and Maglor rushed to the scene as Celegorm and Curufin held their sides with laughter.
"Hey, I started that dark, evil look!" Morgoth exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Feanor. "And he looks like crap wearing it! Faker!" He brushed away Sauron's attempts to pull them away.
Amazingly, Feanor regained his footing and pushed everyone off, setting his sights on Morgoth. "Death to tyrants!" he screamed again, breaking into a clumsy sprint with knife in hand and many elves right behind him.
Morgoth sighed petulantly. "Oh, all right. Let's split." Then he and Sauron disappeared in a thick, black fog. Unfortunately Feanor and his gang stumbled into the haze and they crashed right into the seven-tiered wedding cake. Everyone winced audibly, and no one was in a hurry to go help them up.
"He ruined my cake!" Finarfin cried piteously, his gentle sobbing starting anew.
Moments later, Nerdanel and her sons scurried in the dark as they carried a frosting-covered, unconscious Feanor back to the carriage. Celegorm and Curufin, of course, were of little help in their idiotic state.
"Will you hurry up!" A fuming Maedhros hissed at them. "Somebody hold his head!"
"Ewwww, no, it's got egg frosting all over it!" Celegorm squealed, gingerly pinching a piece of Feanor's hair between his thumb and index finger.
"Shut up and do it! You're in enough trouble already!" Maedhros snapped, moving them faster.
"Ugh, he reeks!" Curufin grimaced, turning his head away as they finally made it to the carriage. Quickly they shoved the body into the car and hopped in before Fingolfin and his minions could find them.
The Next Morning...
"Uuuuggghhhhh." There was the muffled sound of gagging and a toilet flushing.
Celegorm, grimacing in pain, pounded on the door. "Curufin! Aren't you done yet? You've been in there for half an hour!"
There was a thud and a groan from within. "Gee, I'm only near death! Leave me alone," came the weak reply.
"Well, I'm dying too!" Celegorm moaned, holding his stomach and slouching against the wall. Just then Caranthir came running down the hall, looking as green in the gills as his brothers:
"I need the bathroom now."
Celegorm shook his head. "This one's taken. Go to the downstairs room."
"The twins are in there."
Celegorm rolled his eyes. "Then go use the guest room."
"Maglor's in there." Caranthir was practically dancing in place.
"Well, you're not getting this one!" Celegorm retorted, pushing him away. "Go out into the yard or something."
With a whimper, Caranthir put one hand over his mouth and ran back down the hall.
In the master bedroom, a seriously hung-over Feanor burrowed under the bedcovers as Nerdanel bustled about and read him the Riot Act:
"Never in our many years of marriage have I been so humiliated..."
Feanor moaned and pushed his face into the pillow. "Go away."
Nerdanel walked over and slapped the lifeless form under the bed. "How could you do that to Fingolfin and his wife!"
"Go away, wife!" Feanor yelled into the pillow, covering his ears. I shall kill those whelps when I'm sober, he thought darkly.
"Yet perhaps there is a chance to make amends," Nerdanel mused, plopping down on the bed and ignoring the groan that issued from under the blankets. She looked down at her husband. "You will invite them to dinner at our home."
A bleary eye peeked out from under a tangled mass of black hair. "I will do no such thing," Feanor snarled.
Nerdanel chuckled merrily and slapped him again before rising to her feet. "Oh yes, you will, dearest."
Finally, Feanor yanked the covers off of his head. "What madness is driving thee, woman! I shall wear pink before I ever welcome that half-spawn and his wench into my home!" he spat, promptly huddling back under the blankets.
Nerdanel paused by the door and smiled. "You will invite Fingolfin and Anaire to dinner, my love, or else all extracurricular bedroom activities shall cease and desist indefinitely," she replied breezily before exiting and slamming the door behind her.
Suddenly Feanor sat up like he had been shot out of a cannon, his eyes bulging frightfully out of his head.
TBC?
A/N:Yikes! Hadn't really planned to do another chapter but the idea of a nice family dinner just struck me as loaded with possibilities. Morgoth turned out cheesier than I had planned, but then it's a comedy not a drama. Please let me know if I should go on with the next chapter!
