Strange Alliances
by Erestor
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Silmarillion, The Lord of the Rings, or the Harry Potter series. This story was written for entertainment purposes only, and not for money.
Responses to reviewers are posted on my bio page.
CHAPTER FOUR
'The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat's, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil open on a pit, a window into nothing.'
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
For an exciting moment, Krystalynn expected to see her older sister fall at the feet of Sauron and grovel there, as only a deranged fangirl can. Sadly, this was not to be. Amanda-Lynn blinked, looked at the stunned Sauron again, saw no distinguishing lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, and screamed, "A Harry Potter impersonator!"
She grabbed Sauron, who struggled futilely, and began to lug him across the room. Lórien reluctantly prevented her from flinging the Dark Lord out the window.
"Who are these Muggles?" snarled Amanda-Lynn, outraged at being thwarted in her efforts to eradicate the Potter-impersonator. She was holding her authentic Harry Potter wand in one hand, and looked as though she might start impaling people on it.
"They're, um, friends of mine," said Krystalynn. "Mandos, Lórien, Nienna, meet my sister, Amanda-Lynn."
The Valar stared stonily at Krystalynn's older sister, but she did not drop dead, much to the younger girl's disappointment.
"Why are these idiots wearing nightgowns?" asked Amanda-Lynn, with so little tact that everyone in the room was appalled.
"They are not idiots, and they are not wearing nightgowns," snapped Krystalynn. "They're Valar."
"I don't want any stupid Valars in my house!" yelled Amanda-Lynn, forgetting in her rage that it was not her house, but belonged to her parents, who had worked hard to buy it. "Get out of here and go to the library or something! Improve your tiny minds!"
The minds of the Fëanturi, Nienna and Sauron were anything but tiny. In fact, they were being led to believe that the tiniest mind in the room belonged to a certain teenage tyrant whose name sounded like that of a musical instrument. Sauron glared in the girl's direction and muttered something that sounded very, very uncomplimentary. Nienna hushed him, which was a strangely motherly thing for her to do, especially when she silently agreed with him.
Mandos, however, was not particularly insulted. He was above being offended by petty mortals. He thought that going to library sounded like a good idea, because surely a library would have a copy of The Lord of the Rings in it.
Amanda-Lynn was still screeching something (Unforgivable Curses, but he did not know that), so he shot her a glare that made her go pale and quiet, and cringe against the bedroom door. The silence came as a great relief.
Mandos did not like to talk. Talking was, in his mind, nearly pointless. He especially disliked it when people asked stupid questions, because most things become clear in time. For example, when he began to exit the room (Amanda-Lynn scuttling out of the way) and Krystalynn asked, "Where are you going?" he was not impressed, because if she had followed him, she would have realized that he was going to find the library. He wished that mortals would exercise their brains sometimes, instead of their tongues.
The other two Valar followed him out of the room, Sauron in tow. Krystalynn was relieved to see them go, but she didn't really want to admit it to her sister, so she yelled, "Amanda-Lynn! Why did you make them leave? I hate you!" Then she bravely pushed Amanda-Lynn out of her bedroom, slammed the door, and hastily locked it before her sister could break in and clobber her.
The four otherwordly visitors winced at the noise, and stepped out of the house, feeling thankful to be gone. Krystalynn had been very annoying, and her sister had been even worse.
The first impressions of Mandos and Lórien regarding this new world were not favorable. It was far too bright. The overwhelmingly sunlight made their eyes water. They blinked miserably for a few moments, while Nienna watched rather smugly, glad that she wasn't the one crying.
Once they could see again, their first view of the outside world was a startling one. Strange metal machines were zooming past rows of grey houses at great speeds. People were striding along beside the ink-black roads on a sort of white stone walkway. The mortals were garbed in a rather odd attire, and one of them had bright green hair and six or seven rings in his ears and nose.
The Valar had been prepared for something different from Valinor, but they were astonished anyway. Sauron didn't even know what was happening, and so he was startled by the sight as well. They gaped for a moment (well, Mandos didn't gape, but the other three did), and then they began walking, staring at everything.
After a moment, Sauron asked, "Who did she think I was?"
"Don't know," said Nienna. "Hairy something."
"Well, that's insulting," Sauron muttered to himself, and was silent again.
Now, Sauron might have been on the side of the Valar, and he might have stopped wanting to hurt people, but this did not make him good. He was not just about to switch over to the Other Side when some keyboard-wielding adolescent typed the magic words. Thus, with his innate instinct for tracking down and taking anything of monetary value, he had found Amanda-Lynn's purse and stolen a paper banknote from it. He unfolded this banknote as he walked down the sidewalk beside Nienna.
"What is that?" she asked.
"I think it's money," said Sauron. "It's got a fifty written on it."
"What? You stole their money?" asked Lórien, horrified.
Sauron stuck out his tongue, and thrust the banknote back into his tea-cozy. "Yes, of course I stole it!" he said. "It might not have occurred to you, Your High-And-Mightiness, but if we want to get anything here, we'll have to either steal it, or buy it."
"And, in this case, buy it with stolen money," pointed out Nienna.
Sauron shrugged."It's a start. You Valar aren't used to paying for things, are you?"
Nienna shook her head, looking a bit irritable. Sauron's worldly-wisdom was beginning to grate on her nerves already. "No, we're not used to paying for things," she said. "Are you?"
"No, but I'm used to stealing them."
Lórien was horrified, but Nienna muttered, "At least he's an honest thief."
"Let's just hope a fifty goes far enough," Sauron said. "This paper stuff could be worthless anyway."
Lórien appealed to his older brother. "Námo, what are we going to do?"
Mandos looked at the piece of paper, and sighed. "Would you like to return it to that demented girl?" he asked.
Lórien gave the proposal serious consideration for slightly less than a millisecond. "No," he said firmly. He thought that if he saw the demented girl again, he would be sorely tempted to zap her with a lightning bolt.
Mandos continued walking, having made his point. He was focusing on locating the library. Since Amanda-Lynn had suggested going there, he knew it must be nearby.
Sure enough, it was. It took them only about fifteen minutes to get there, despite their walk being somewhat slowed by the time they spent looking at the cars that zipped along the busy streets, and at the people who were plodding homeward.
The people who were plodding homeward tried to stare covertly at the four strangers who were strolling down the sidewalk clad in exquisite robes, robes that swished dramatically about them. The sight of the foursome was made more spectacular by the fact that three of them were extremely tall and beautiful. The fact that a small boy with spiky hair, wearing dusty, ragged robes of black, was trotting after them, only made them more fascinating.
The result of this was that everyone slowed down, the Valar to look at the mortals, and the mortals to gawk at the Valar. Fortunately, there were no confrontations, not even when Sauron began shouting insulting names at people.
"If you were my child," snapped Nienna, "I'd give you a sound spanking."
"Guess what. I'm not your child," sneered Sauron. "I may look young, but back home I was taking over the world."
"Brat. That's not a nice thing to boast about," retorted Nienna. "And you both look young and are acting young. Moments ago you were sticking out your tongue at people. Is that the sort of thing a decent Dark Lord would do?"
Sauron sniffed haughtily, and ignored her.
They reached the library without further incident, but then the Maia tried to push his luck again. "So this is a library," he said, gazing at the plain, brown-tiled building coolly. "It doesn't look very interesting."
"What would make it interesting?" asked Lórien, irritated. "A few spiky turrets and a couple fell beasts to circle threateningly around it?"
Sauron, who was getting more juvenile every time they looked at him, rolled his eyes.
Here is the interesting thing about libraries: in libraries, people are afraid to make direct eye-contact with strangers, for fear the strangers will start up a conversation with them. This would be very embarrassing. Most people in libraries want to scurry about with piles of books, silent and unseen by everyone. To have someone say, "Hello! How are you? What lovely weather we're having!" would be the ultimate humiliation for the average library patron. They might even be forced to reply to the overly friendly stranger, in which case, they would admitting that the stranger exists. Libraries are for reading quietly, not for chatting with other people.
Because of this interesting fact, no one looked at Mandos, Lórien, Nienna and Sauron when they entered the library. Yes, these people were strange, and yes, they were dressed in a very bizarre style, and yes, the automatic door made them all step back in horrified surprise, but this was no reason to stare at them. Not in a library.
Mandos liked the way this place was nearly silent. There were shelves of books everywhere, and contented readers strolled about, books in hand, dreamy expressions on their faces. It was a sort of utopia. He looked around for a librarian, who would tell him where to find The Lord of the Rings. Nienna went to the bookshelves, and Lórien went to find somewhere where he could nap for a while.
Sauron ignored the books. He liked gaining knowledge, but reading was too dull for him. His gaze was fixed on the fifteen or so computers that lined the back walls. He had only experienced computers briefly, but they had seemed interesting. Interesting and powerful. He thought that he would like to experience them a little more.
It was a Friday afternoon and a horde of teenagers, fresh out of school, had hurried to the computer section to surf the Web, play games, or write essays (but mainly to surf the Web and play games). Sauron found a boy who was playing a more violent computer game than the rest, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Huh?" said the boy, rapidly shooting at the enemy.
"I'd like to use that," said Sauron.
"Huh?" repeated the boy, who tragically had a limited vocabulary. He shot at more of the enemies. There was an explosion of some sort. Sauron watched in fascination for a moment, and then repeated himself.
"Listen," said the game-player, "scram, OK?"
Sauron, who had understood only one third of the boy's statement (and even that part hadn't made much sense to him) was beginning to grow impatient. He tapped the boy on the shoulder again, and this time the player turned around threateningly, ready to deal out justice on the obnoxious child.
Sauron widened his amber eyes. They were slitted like a cat's, and their hypnotic quality was surmounted only by their ability to induce terror in the hearts of puny mortals. The player leapt out of his chair and stumbled backwards in horror, with a very satisfactory cry of dismay.
Sauron clambered into the chair and began playing where the other boy had left off. He was used to getting his own way.
"Everyone looks sad," said Tulkas.
"This is the Halls of Mandos, not a playground," said Varda, in one of the most unnecessary differentiations of the past millennium. "This is where the fëar consider their misdeeds, and repent of them."
Nessa and Tulkas stood and looked at all the unhappy fëar, traumatized at seeing so much sadness all at one time. They did not realize that all the fëar were faking their pitiful expressions and repentant tears. They were secretly delighted that Mandos was no longer there to bother them. Without his stifling presence, the mood of the fëar had been nearly convivial.
"So, will you take charge of the Halls while Námo is otherwise occupied?" asked Varda.
"Certainly we shall," said Tulkas enthusiastically, producing his book of knock-knock jokes from his pocket. "We'll soon have them cheered up!"
Varda smiled pleasantly. "Yes, of course," she said. "They could use a little cheer." She danced merrily out of the Halls, happy to have Tulkas out of the way. It was nearly heart-wrenching that the fëar would have to suffer this, but most of them had been wicked anyway.
As she left, she could hear Tulkas explaining the painfully simple format of knock-knock jokes. "When I say 'knock, knock', you say 'who's there'," he commanded.
"Why?" someone asked rebelliously. It was most likely that the someone was Fëanor.
"Because I say so!" bellowed Tulkas with his usual good humor. No one could crush him. No one could rebel against him. He possessed all the cheerful imperviousness and undisputed intelligence of a drunken mûmak.
Varda chortled with evil amusement, and dashed lightly out of the Halls before she could hear anything else.
TBC