Starring Tulkas and Irmo.

Irmo did not want to answer the door. It was late afternoon in the gardens of Lórien, and he was feeling quite content and relaxed in his isolated chamber. The lights were never too bright, the noise never too loud, and the flowery fragrance carrying on the breeze sedated his mind. It was going to take a lot more to get him off his couch…

The knocking came again, much louder. He waited a little longer, but no one answered it. Irmo rolled his eyes and slid off the couch. His silver silk robes flowed elegantly behind him, making a soft rushing sound as they dragged on the floor. He opened the door of his halls and found himself face to face with Tulkas. The Vala wore his usual sporting gear and the knuckles of his fists wielded a metal covering. His blonde hair was pulled back in a bun. "Lórien! If it isn't my favorite Vala."

"That's Aulë," Irmo posited.

"Ah, yes – my second favorite."

"Again, that's Oromë."

"Well, you are on the list!"

"Can I get straight to the point and ask why you're at my door?" Irmo inquired.

"Have any of the …y'know… the good stuff?" Tulkas asked.

Irmo gazed past him at a dappled horse and rider some distance off in a field of medicinal plants. He mouthed "Go!" to the latter, and the rider gave Irmo a firm nod, fastening the saddle bags filled with potent herbs and galloping into the mist.

"No, I'm afraid we are out at the moment," he answered Tulkas.

"Drat! That is not the only reason I've come, however." The Vala of Sport appeared uncomfortable and awkward then, toeing the damp soil at his feet. "Aulë is always busy with his Noldorin apprentices, and Oromë is hosting an event for his huntsmen. Mandos is too antisocial, and Nienna is…well…"

Irmo blinked. "She's what? What were you going to say about my sister?"

"She's rather doleful. Which isn't a bad thing, of course, but hard for me to relate to. Anyway, even though we live in a time of great peace, nobody seems to want to have any fun anymore."

"Tragic."

"But I think you are the most like me, at least out of the Fëanturi."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I can easily picture us wrestling together, participating in tournaments, laughing and drinking pints of ale until the break of dawn."

"I don't understand how we come from the same mind," Irmo muttered. "You see, Tulkas - how do I put this politely? – you and I are… opposites. I am sophisticated, abstract; you are brawny, and… physical. Getting along would be a challenge."

Tulkas grinned. "Did I ever mention that I love challenges? It was a challenge beating my record for the shortest time running across Valmar, but I've recently done just that."

"Right. Oh, what's that, Estë? Coming!" He gave Tulkas an apologetic look. "I'll be right back. The wife is calling."

The Valië had her back to Irmo, dipping vials into an enchanted pool in the posterior yard of the house. Her chestnut-colored hair was tied in a long braid, small blue flowers tucked into its wavy tresses. She lifted the folds of her gossamer gray gown as she climbed to her feet again.

"I did not call you, Irmo," she replied in that soothing voice of hers.

Irmo made his expression sad and sulky. "Please, Estë? Can't you just say you need my help stirring Silpion's pools, or that a great many Elves need me to ease their minds?"

Estë finished bottling up the vial of dream water. "Normally I would lie for you, Irmo, but I quite pity Tulkas. He must feel we have little use for him now that Melkor is imprisoned, and no one can keep up with his energy. Surely, my husband, you have some compassion in your heart for him."

Irmo frowned. "Perhaps, but I can't find it."

"You've spent far too much time lying about in your chamber and gazing into your dream pools."

"Because I like it there!"

"How about this," she suggested in her soft, calming voice. "Think of Tulkas as one of the Eldar who often come wandering into the gardens of Lórien, seeking inner solace. How would you treat him?"

"Frankly, Estë, I would place him in your care. Its beyond my expertise."

"And unfortunately, I am busy today. As is everyone else in Aman except for you… and Tulkas."

Irmo threw his hands up with a groan. "Fine! I'll do it! But I won't enjoy a second of it."

The Vala of Dreams drew open the door of his hall and strolled down the sloping walkway into the gardens. Floating wisps of light guided those who dwelt within those shaded groves, and a purplish-blue wisp followed Irmo to the clearing where Tulkas waited, washed in soft lamplight. He was reading a signpost with directions through the myriad of mazes.

He turned in surprise when he sensed the garden's patron right behind him, clapping a hand to his chest. "You and Mandos prefer going about in stealth."

"Not everything has to be loudly announced," Irmo argued.

Tulkas just smiled. "Are you ready, then? Kiss the wife goodbye?"

Irmo put his hands at his hips, a thought occurring to him. "How is Nessa? Is she busy today, too?"

Tulkas scratched his head and glanced down. "Yeah. She went to visit her brother … I won't see her for another week at least."

Irmo felt a smidgen of pity creep into his heart. "Nessa and Oromë are very close."

"Aye, they are." He perked up again. "What do you prefer, Lórien? Archery? Horse-riding? Racing? I have a stadium for each of those. Do you have any fine jewelry to bid?"

Irmo cringed inwardly at each of those suggestions. At least, he tried not to outwardly.

"I've won quite a few baubles from my victories against the Noldor. Necklaces, bracelets, silver cups," Tulkas bragged.

"Uh… let's start with something else," Irmo suggested.

"I love the way you think! We'll stop at the tavern in my halls and begin the gaming early, if you know what I mean…"

Irmo didn't know what he meant, and he didn't want to ask, either. He followed the Vala into the streets of Valmar and up to a multi-storied mansion, surrounded on all sides by gaming arenas. They entered the first gate and crossed a spacious courtyard into one of the buildings of the ground floor. The tavern was dim and smelled strongly of ales, occupied mostly by people of Tulkas, but also other locals of Valmar. Tulkas introduced Irmo to his barman, a Maia named Astarandë, who had his coppery hair tied out of his face and wore an apron atop a gold-trimmed tunic.

"We'll have the good stuff," Tulkas said with a wink. "We've had a great harvest this season," he told Irmo as an aside.

The barman returned with two goblets full of a sweet, reddish-tinged mead. Tulkas handed the second cup to Irmo. "Drink some of this, good for you. Like herbal tea."

"Is it really?" Irmo wondered. He thought it burned too much to be like tea, but it made him feel warm inside. And his mood lifted almost immediately. Why did Tulkas always want herbs from him, when he had his own potions that seemed just as effective?

"Astarandë! Bring more of this!" Irmo demanded.

"You heard the lord!" Tulkas yelled. "Let's get him another!"

The goblets of heavy mead kept coming, and the two Valar drained every cup set on their table. Irmo started swaying in his chair, and Tulkas set an arm on his shoulder to steady him. "You are my dearest friend, Lórien."

"Please, call me Irmo," the Vala slurred.

"Only if you call me Tulkas," he answered back.

They both fell into hysterics, pounding the table so hard that it almost caved in. Then Irmo looked up and down the tavern, covering his ears. "Who is playing that music so loud?"

"Hey! Enough with the harp!" Tulkas shouted over the noise. "My friend thinks it's too loud!"

"There isn't any music, lord," Astarandë answered.

Tulkas smiled at Irmo. "There you are, my friend. They have ceased playing."

"How can I still hear it? Oh well. Give me a lift, Tulkas," Irmo suddenly requested, and the other Vala knelt on the floor of the tavern and interlaced his fingers together to hoist him on top of the table. With nimble grace, he leapt off the wooden table and sprang onto the next, surprising the Ainur seated there. He danced around the room as the crowd burst into applause, chanting his name.

Tulkas began laughing so hard he fell out of his chair. The Maiar tending to the tables sprinted over to the bar to watch the spectacle. They broke open the extra stores of mead and filled Irmo's cup to his content. He skipped past the bar, slapping his hand against the outstretched palms of the Maiar who were calling to him.

When Tulkas and Irmo finally stumbled out of the tavern into the evening light, Tulkas's Maiar pressed up against the open windows to wave goodbye.

"Come back anytime, Lórien!" they shouted after him.

Just beyond the border of Valmar, in the wide and fertile pastures of Orome, several Teleri practiced archery in an open ring.

Tulkas elbow-nudged the other Vala. "Whaddaya say, Irmo? Are you up for a match?"

"Tulkas, when have I ever declined such an invitation?"

"That's the spirit!" Tulkas laughed, slapping him on the back. He shook the hands of the Elven archers in their leather bracers and called to the fletcher, who was handing out equipment.

"Are my lords of sound mind?" the Elf asked cautiously.

"Ha ha! Even if drunk, I believe we still would win!" the Vala of Sport assured him.

The fletcher gave Tulkas a wary look, reluctantly retrieving two sets of bows and quivers for the Valar. Tulkas strung both bows and notched the first arrow for Irmo before joining him in the archery ring.

"On your marks!" the Teler archery master announced.

Arrows flew every which way, and the Elves ran for cover into the woods. Barrels of wine spilled their contents in the arena and the gaming posts knocked over one by one. Tulkas went and pulled a broken arrow shaft out of a flag, causing the fabric to rip in half.

"I didn't think you'd ever played, Irmo," Tulkas told him, sounding impressed.

"I hadn't," the Vala of Dreams confessed. "This would be the first time."

"Well, if you are this proficient in archery, you should try your luck at horse-riding. Let us go and look for Celegorm and Curufin by the stables – those Noldor are usually of mind to race at this time."

The racing course stretched for many miles over rolling green fields. Blue and white smudges marked the position of the Elven riders on their way back to the starting point, posting on sleek, well-bred horses. Celegorm and Curufin lifted a hand off the reins as the Valar approached.

"Care if we join?" Tulkas asked, adding a stack of gold bars to the prize table.

The Noldorin riders squinted at the Vala. "You do not ride any steeds, Tulkas."

"No, but my good friend here does," he said, taking Irmo under his arm. "We'll wager every piece of gold and silver on this table that he can best any one of you."

The Elves were surprised by the offer, but they did not immediately refuse. Celegorm and Curufin shared a glance, deciding whether they should accept.

"I have never seen Irmo race on a horse," Curufin told his brother. "We are sure to win."

"Very well," Celegorm answered. He turned to the two Valar. "We accept the bid."

"Excellent!" Tulkas grinned. "Now let's go get you saddled up," he told Irmo, steering him towards the horse the Elves had provided.

Slightly dizzy and rather uncoordinated, Irmo climbed on the mounting block and held up his long robes so he could sit straddling the horse. Tulkas handed him the reins and Irmo leaned back too far and almost slipped out of the stirrups.

The rest of the riders waited at the startling line. Celegorm rode up beside Irmo and brought his horse to a halt once they were shoulder to shoulder.

"Last chance to back out," the Noldo teased. "Oromë himself taught me how to ride."

Irmo looked across the pasture at Tulkas, who flashed him a thumbs-up from the audience. He turned back to Celegorm with a smug grin. "Your gold is going to look great on me."

Confusion flitted across the Noldo's face as the whistle blew. The line of horses took off at a strong gallop, but Irmo remained in place for another moment or so, staring at the other riders in the distance.

"It's only fair I give them a head start," the Vala murmured to himself. Behind him, the crowd of Elves whispered among themselves, wondering why he did not budge.

At last, the Vala urged on his horse and loped across the field. He leaned his weight forward and pressed his heels into the flank, letting the reins hang loose at the neck. One by one, the riders at the rear fell behind, and he zigzagged through the rest to tie with Celegorm in the lead.

The Noldo prince glanced over and narrowed his eyes at the Vala, pressing harder on his steed, but Irmo sped past him with ease. As he reached the finish line, the Vala's horse swerved off to the right, and he was thrown off, landing roughly in the grass. He rolled over on his back in a fit of laughter.

Tulkas ran the entire course in a minute and scooped up Irmo, hoisting him in the air for all to see. "Winner!" he cheered. "Winner! Winner! We have a winner!"

The Elves begrudgingly handed over all the valuables on the prize table. Tulkas adorned himself and Irmo with priceless chains and bracelets. "These golden goblets will perfectly suit my mantelpiece," he said, buffing the cups against the front of his shirt.

"We are on a winning streak," the Vala of Sport told Irmo. He set an arm around his shoulder. "What shall we do next, my friend?"

Irmo shielded his eyes from the waning rays of Laurelin. He pointed at something in the trees ahead. "Look, we have reached Yavanna's gardens."

"So many birds! Have these always been here?" Tulkas unlatched the bronze gate of an aviary and took out a golden-tailed hawk, letting the bird perch on his shoulder. "I'll leave a note for Lady Yavanna and let her know we're borrowing a few."

Irmo laughed. "Tulkas, you are going to get us into trouble!"

"I understand why she might need four…maybe five birds… but fifty? Seems a little excessive to me."

"You're right. That's too many." The Vala of Dreams allowed a red-breasted meadowlark to hop on his finger. "How beautiful this one is!"

Both Valar left the aviary gate open, and hundreds more came flying out, covering the sky in a variety of bright colors and outspread wings.

"…Uh-oh," they gulped.

"Hurry! We can catch them if we run!" Irmo urged Tulkas. The path took them back to Valmar, into the main courtyard, where a minstrel of Vána leaned against a gushing fountain, plucking a lyre and singing for the Vanyarin and Maiarin passersby.

Tulkas paused in the center of the courtyard. "I've already forgotten what we were doing." His attention was captured by the music of the minstrel. "Irmo, isn't this your favorite song?"

"No, not this one," the other Vala answered. "I'll play it for you." He approached the minstrel and held out his hands. "May I?"

The Maia instantly stood and bowed, offering the lyre to him. "Of course, Lord Irmo. It would be an honor."

Irmo took a seat and propped the instrument in his lap. He spread his hand over the strings and began to play, his fingers expertly hitting each note. He sang a song of wild gardens, of lofty mists on mountains steep, of the silver pools that fed Silpion's unfaltering light.

Tulkas stood back and crossed his arms, bobbing his head while he listened. "I did not know you could play so well, Irmo."

"There is much you do not know about me," he replied between verse.

A crowd had begun to congregate around the Vala, awed by his music. The Vanyar and Maiar in the audience sang along in chorus to the words of his song.

Irmo climbed the wall of the fountain and raised the lyre to his chest. "This next one is for Tulkas, my dearest of friends!" he announced.

The audience cheered him on, eager for the Vala to keep playing. Tulkas waved away some of the applause in a show of humility. As Irmo delicately strummed the instrument, two of Yavanna's birds of golden plume swooped down to perch on his shoulders.

"Hmm," Tulkas murmured thoughtfully. "I wonder where those came from?"

The crowd threw flowers at Irmo as he bowed several times, once in each direction. "Thank you, thank you! You have been a most lovely audience." The Vala hopped down from the fountain and handed the lyre back to its owner.

"How did you get those birds to come to you?" Tulkas asked him.

Irmo shrugged. "I do not know. Here, I shall release them." He lifted both arms to prompt the birds to fly, and they encircled the Vala before rising into the night sky.

Tulkas snapped his fingers. "You know what we're forgetting?"

Irmo's eyes flashed eagerly. "What?"

"Fireworks!" The Vala of Sport started rummaging through the cartons on the edge of the plaza. "I know I've seen some… I helped Aulë package an entire set just the other day…"

Irmo trailed after, trying to keep from tripping over his own feet. "Did you find any?"

"No, but I found barrels of ale!" he called back excitedly. He rolled a barrel towards Irmo and handed him one of the two golden goblets. "Go ahead, help yourself."

As Irmo tipped back his head and drank the foamy beverage, Tulkas opened another carton and shouted "AH-HA! I've found them!" He set the explosives in a row on the ground and motioned to Irmo. "Hand me a light, will you?"

The Vala of Dreams bent and took a branch covered in sparking embers from a brazier, passed it to Tulkas. The latter waved the smoke against the wick sticking out from the firework, and a second later it shot into the air with an earsplitting scream. An explosion of color lit up the sky above Valmar with a loud BOOM, white light dripping down in its wake like melting stars.

"Let me try! Let me try!" Irmo begged. Tulkas offered him the torch, but as the firework took air, it veered off course and struck the roof of a nearby building. The wooden beams caught fire and an explosion propelled flames and shattered glass across the courtyard.

Irmo and Tulkas froze. "That is not good," Tulkas said, his eyes so wide they reflected the burning building.

At once, the Maiar working inside rushed out and doused the fire with gallons of water, until only a smoking husk of a roof remained. The two Valar faded into the shadows, hoping not to be seen.

"It was, uh, fun while it lasted," Tulkas said, snorting back laughter.

"Where to now, my friend?" Irmo asked him.

"Wherever the road chooses to take us!"

They hobbled arm in arm along the path leading east of Valmar, singing a song at the top of their lungs. Taniquetil's white peak appeared, glowing beneath the stars. The walls of its highest tower radiated a bright light that lit up the snowy mountains behind it.

Tulkas's tone became serious. "Irmo, I want you to meet a very good friend of mine."

"He lives here?" Irmo wondered, gazing at the tower in astonishment.

"I shall bring you to see him!"

Upon reaching the highest story of the tower, they met Eönwë before the doors of Manwë's throne room. He greeted the Valar with a bow and started to say, "Lord Manwë is quite busy at the moment, can it wait un-"

Tulkas brushed past him. "It's an emergency," he insisted.

Eönwë paled in the face and backed away, acquiescing. He entered the chamber alone, and a moment later the doors opened for the visitors.

They walked in, shielding their eyes from the harsh glare of light filtering through glass. Amidst the haze, Manwë stared ahead expectantly from his throne. "Lórien, Tulkas," he greeted, some surprise in his voice at seeing them together. "Eönwë told me you came in haste, claiming to have an emergency."

"We do," Tulkas said, and Irmo nodded his agreement. "Manwë, I would like you to meet my new friend, Irmo."

The lord of Taniquetil raised his eyebrows ever so slowly, the drunkenness of the two Valar now quite apparent to him. He smiled politely at them both and answered, clearly just to humor them: "Yes, I believe we have met before."

Irmo and Tulkas glanced at the other in shock.

"You knew Manwë?" Tulkas slurred. "And he never thought to introduce us?"

Manwë closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again. "Both of you are… all right, though? No other emergency?"

"I'm great," Irmo insisted. "How about you, Tulkas?"

"I'm…fantastic," the Vala admitted. "I haven't felt this good since…since… since Nessa left to visit Oromë." His eyes became wet and his voice emotional. Irmo took the Vala into his arms and patted his back reassuringly.

"You are strong," Irmo told him, squeezing his shoulders and looking into his face with glazed eyes. "You are the strongest person I know, Tulkas."

"Do you mean that?"

"I really mean it."

Tulkas's head slumped a little, resting now on the other Vala's chest. "Hey, Irmo? Can I tell you something?" he murmured.

"You can tell me anything."

"I'm not feeling so great right now."

The Vala of Dreams puckered his mouth like it tasted sour. "Me neither."

Suddenly Manwë panicked, and he raised his voice to shout for his attendants. Dozens of servants came pouring into the chamber carrying buckets and trays, sliding on the ground to avoid the waves of vomit raining down from the two intoxicated Valar. They held Irmo and Tulkas by the shoulders and placed their heads over a bucket to prevent them desecrating the polished floor.

Manwë let out a sigh of relief.

Hundreds of tiny, sharp swords stabbed Irmo in the head. His mouth was so dry that he felt an entire sea of water could not quench his thirst. Even the dim light behind his eyelids was too bright, and the low murmur of distant voices too loud. All he wanted was darkness and silence.

Someone placed a wet cloth against his flushed skin. Irmo stirred from his sleep and sat up, blinking to clear his blurry vision. He saw a figure bent at his bedside, beside a pot of boiling water and herbs. Her hazel eyes met Irmo's gray, bloodshot ones, and she was smiling in amusement.

"Estë? Is that you?" he asked groggily.

She ground the herbs into a paste and rubbed the ointment onto the cloth, dabbing it on her husband's forehead. "I must say, Irmo, it seems you had a much better time than you planned."

"What are you talking about? What happened?"

"Well…" She bit her lip to hide another smile. "Where should I begin? Oromë is expecting compensation for the damage to his pastures. Yavanna is missing several birds from her aviaries. The Noldor are quite sore about some bets that involved them losing their valuables, and Aulë must devote the next few weeks to various repairs throughout Valmar. Oh, and Manwë spent all this morning cleaning the mess off his floors."

"And what does all this have to do with me?" he wondered.

"I received these and many other complaints not long after your unconscious body was delivered at my door."

"Wait… you mean I did those things?! Why would I, Estë?" Irmo asked in horror.

"You don't remember anything?"

"No, I…" Irmo rubbed his head, which started throbbing as he tried to recall the night prior. "I just remember Tulkas being here, and you refusing to make an excuse for me…"

"Now I certainly will!" she cried out with laughter. "You and Tulkas are hereby forbidden to co-mingle!"