Strange Alliances

by Erestor

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, Discworld, or the Harry Potter series. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.

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CHAPTER TEN

'Vairë the Weaver is his spouse, who weaves all things that have ever been in Time into her storied webs...'

- J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Silmarillion'

For the past twenty minutes, Vairë had been complaining about Mandos. About how she couldn't get him to wear anything but black. About how quiet and moody he was all the time. About how he was the least romantic Vala in existence. About how he had forgotten to bring her flowers on their wedding anniversary.

"Women like a man who can make them laugh," said Vairë, stirring her third cup of tea with the sugar spoon. (Varda sipped her tea and ignored this lack of etiquette, reminding herself that Vairë didn't get out of the Halls much.) "Mandos has never told a joke in his life," finished Vairë. She slammed the sugar spoon down on the table. "It's so depressing!" she wailed.

Varda, who had a perfect husband, was undergoing the extreme temptation to brag about him, but, being a kind and noble Vala, she decided to change the subject instead. "Do you spend all your time weaving?" she asked.

"Yes," snarled Vairë. "I don't think people realize how hard I have to work! The rest of you get fun jobs, but all I do is weave and weave and weave. And I'm always having to go back and rip parts out, and redo bits and make everything accurate. And then I found out it doesn't even matter!"

"At least you tried," murmured Varda.

"That's not the point," snapped Vairë. "I've been trying to keep up with history, and it's been double-crossing me!"

A thought occurred to Varda. "Are you the one making history?" she asked. "Or are you just recording it?"

"It's more a matter of give and take," said Vairë. "It happens, and I record it, but..." Her voice trailed off, and she rubbed her finger along the top of her teacup. More bad etiquette. "It's impossible to explain, really," she muttered.

"Nienna told me that you shredded your old tapestries," said Varda. "Does that mean that now parts of history have never happened?"

"I suppose so," replied Vairë, nodding.

"Well, that's not good," said Varda, horrified. "Now the people of Middle-earth have big gaps in their lives!"

Vairë looked worried for a moment. Then she said, "Doesn't matter. I hate them anyway."

Jennifer was a calm and placid woman, which was a very good thing. Had she not been calm and placid, her sanity would have been the first casualty of her motherhood. (The first casualty of Jennifer's motherhood was, in fact, her goldfish, Ophelia, but that is a completely different story.) Once she had given birth to two sons (Benny and Sammy), they seemed intent on driving her stark staring mad.

That Saturday morning, Jennifer was reading a book (Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett) while valiantly ignoring the sounds of Benny trying to stuff worms down Sammy's throat. Jennifer had a theory that worms wouldn't do Sammy much harm, since he ate all sorts of other things that were supposed to be inedible, so she did not feel the need to intervene. However, Jennifer became mildly worried when she saw five year-old Benny chasing the screaming three year-old Sammy through the house, waving a gardening trowel.

She took a deep breath and stood up. "Benny, Sammy, be quiet this instant," she snapped. She closed her book, marking the spot with a paper napkin. "How did they come to be instilled with such violent habits?" she muttered to herself. She was sure that she was raising them correctly, and yet they insisted on behaving like little savages.

Sammy said something garbled and incoherent, which sounded like some sort of accusation. This assessment of Jennifer's was bolstered by the fact that he was also pointing at Benny, who looked very rebellious and unrepentant.

"I am taking you to the library," decided Jennifer aloud.

"Why?" asked Benny.

"Because an hour of reading will do you both good. Bring Mummy your shoes, Sammy."

Benny dropped the gardening trowel on the kitchen floor and stomped off, while Sammy sat down on the floor and whimpered. Jennifer sighed, and resigned herself to her fate.

When Mrs. Tey, the head librarian, arrived at the library to unlock the doors, she found a group of people sleeping in a bush outside it. Much perplexed, and somewhat annoyed, she halted and glared down at them.

They were three men, one woman, and one small boy, clearly foreigners. That much information could easily be derived simply from the unusual clothing they wore. And Mrs. Tey did not think anyone in this neighborhood would sleep outside the library.

The child was waking up. His amber eyes flickered open and he smiled guilelessly at her. "Good morning, ma'am," he said. Mrs. Tey stared at him. There was something not quite right about the little boy, but she could not place it.

"Have you been loitering here?" asked Mrs. Tey severely.

"No. Just sleeping," said the boy.

Mrs. Tey did not reply to that, because she was not sure what to say, so, with a nod in the direction of the others, she asked, "Are any of these people related to you?" The librarian did not know if she would be relieved to learn they were the boy's relations, or if she would feel the need to telephone the authorities. (She did not think they were being very good role-models.)

"Them?" The boy smirked at the thought, a smirk that was rather disturbing. "They are no relatives of mine, but they're looking after me for the moment."

"They do not seem to be doing a very good job of it," said Mrs. Tey, straightening her spectacles. She gave one of the sleeping men a firm nudge with her foot, and he rolled over and stiffened, finding himself suddenly staring up into Mrs. Tey's stony face and gimlet eyes. The librarian took a step back, and the man sat up, prodding the others into wakefulness.

"You, sir," said Mrs. Tey, "are breaking the law."

The man shrugged, obviously not alarmed by her statement.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" demanded Mrs. Tey.

The man frowned at her.

"Speak up. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing," said the man slowly and clearly, with so much ice in his voice that Mrs. Tey's heart nearly froze.

"Well, she certainly got you to talk, Mandos," said the woman, who was rubbing her eyes and pulling her hair away from her face. "Say something comforting, before she goes into shock."

The man shrugged again, this time awkwardly, then turned to Mrs. Tey. "I have nothing to say for myself," he said. "I have been sleeping in this Eru-forsaken bush for most of the night. It was not comfortable. When I was not sleeping in a bush, I was alluding certain deluded police officers, who seemed to think I belonged to an illegal cult. I do not. I am still tired from my escapades, I have sprained my ankle, and I am not feeling very cheery this morning. You will have to forgive me for not being obligingly happy about all this."

Oddly enough, Mrs. Tey noticed, the other four were staring at the man with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Mandos," stuttered the man in blue, "you– you–"

"Dear Ilúvatar, the world is ending," murmured the child, running his fingers through his spiky hair and shaking his head.

The one called Mandos stood up, and the others scrambled to their feet after him. "I hate this world," he snapped. "I hate this body, and I hate having to speak. Open the library door."

"Please," whispered the woman faintly.

"Please," said Mandos, glaring.

Mrs. Tey opened the library door with much fear and trembling, and Mandos swept past her, limping slightly. His entourage followed quietly, though the man with gold woven into his raven hair gave Mrs. Tey a vaguely condescending look as he glided past her.

Mrs. Tey entered the library, shut the door behind her, and wobbled to her desk, feeling strangely shaken.

"Námo, dear, are you feeling unwell?" asked Nienna carefully, as her brother sat down in a chair at a reading desk.

Mandos shook his head.

He had told Mrs. Tey no lies. The Valar, Elf, and Maia had spent their night busily. An innocent walk to the library had turned into a dramatic chase as a police officer had attempted to apprehend them, apparently thinking that they belonged to an illegal cult and were brainwashing Sauron. Sauron had not been helpful, to say the least. Mandos had been forced to carry him (i.e. haul the struggling child down an alleyway), which had resulted in Mandos spraining his ankle.

They had made it to the library without being arrested, only to discover it was locked, and, unable to go elsewhere, they had gone to sleep in the bushes (after silencing Sauron, who had suggested that they smash a library window and get in that way). Lórien had no trouble with sleeping in unpleasant places, but the others had not had such an easy time of it.

"So this is the library," said Fëanor. "It doesn't look very interesting."

Sauron smiled, his rather sharp teeth making the friendly expression an eerie one instead. "Let me show you some fascinating devices, my good Elf," he said, catching Fëanor's arm and dragging him over to the rows of computers.

"They should be happy now," said Nienna, watching them go with narrowed eyes. She thought it was rather risky to let Fëanor and Sauron interact with each other.

"I'm going to the Kiddie Korner, to get more rest," said Lórien, and departed.

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Nienna. She had never heard Mandos say so much at once, except for his prophecy to the fleeing Noldor.

Mandos gave a short, sharp nod, and glared into the distance.

"I can get some money from Sauron and buy you something nice to eat," offered Nienna.

Mandos shook his head. "No, thank you," he said stiffly.

"It's this world that's doing it, isn't it?" said Nienna. "We don't have our abilities any more. I haven't been crying, and you don't know the future. And we can't get out of these bodies."

"We need to leave," said Mandos. "But first we have to save Middle-earth."

At that moment, Jennifer, mild-mannered mother of two, stepped into the library, dragging her reluctant sons behind her.

TBC...