Strange Alliances
by Erestor
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, or the Harry Potter series. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.
Once again, and as always, my thanks to those of you who reviewed!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
'"Well, here is Mirkwood!" said Gandalf. "The greatest of the forests of the Northern world. I hope you like the look of it."'
- J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Hobbit'
Vairë was weaving absent-mindedly, not really looking at what she was doing. She was thinking about Vána. Vána was beginning to worry her a little. She was fanatical. She was sending dozens of girls into Middle-earth in one Age, and then starting the Age over again so that more girls could do the same. Vána seemed very unconcerned about the history of what was supposed to be happening.
But Vána wasn't quite doing the whole thing. Vairë knew that Vána was organizing these girls, but she was not controlling them. And Vairë herself had little power over history. Not really. She had some say in the matter, but it was doing what it wished, without her assistance.
Things were getting out of her control.
Vairë looked down at her weaving and saw that Mandos's head had been bitten off by a huge spider. She gasped. "Yikes, I didn't even know they could do that," she muttered to herself.
She began ripping out her weaving as fast as she could. Mandos was a lousy husband, but he didn't deserve to die like that.
Mandos restored back to his usual health and strength, and his head restored to its usual position on his shoulders, he disappeared completely. Vairë frowned. She wove on a little, and Mandos reappeared. Out of nowhere. Vairë was puzzled, but she kept on weaving. She saw the spider plunging out of the tree, and then Vairë did a little harmless interfering.
Mandos saved, she heaved a sigh of relief and kept on weaving, feeling strangely guilty.
Vána entered the room, and Vairë felt guiltier. She wished she had stuck with weaving welcome mats. That had been a fun and harmless hobby. However, when she had been weaving mats, history had been frozen, so that was no good.
"How goes the weaving? How are our visitors coming along?" asked Vána. Vána euphemistically referred to the girls under her care as her 'visitors'.
"They're fine," said Vairë, glancing over her work. One was closing in on Celeborn, one had already driven Thranduil insane, and Haldir's had just pushed him out of a tree. Legolas's 'visitor' was going to meet him in Rivendell, when he fled there to get away from his father.
Vána peered over Vairë's shoulder, which made the Weaver nervous. "I only have so much thread, Vána," she said, hoping Vána would step away. "When I run out of thread, history is over."
"Really? I didn't know it worked that way," said Vána, who hadn't done her research.
"For the moment, I'm simply tearing out my weaving and doing it again for you," said Vairë. "But the threads are becoming worn. History is going to fall apart if I don't stop doing this soon."
"Hmm, scary thought," said Vána, twirling a radiant lock of hair around her finger. She maintained a serious look for a few seconds, before succumbing to a fit of giggles.
Mandos jumped out of the way just in time. Lórien ducked, though this was an unnecessary move on his part, and Nienna froze in shock, her mouth dropping open. Fëanor, rolling his eyes, produced a knife from his sleeve and turned to face the huge spider that had nearly bitten Mandos's head off.
"So this is sunny Mirkwood," said Nienna, once her powers of speech returned to her. She carefully moved far away from Fëanor and the spider, who were both thrashing around in a large bush. She felt that Jennifer might have sent them to a nicer place.
The spider having been killed, Fëanor removed himself from the bush, wiped his knife clean, and slipped it back into his sleeve. "By the Trees," he said, a smirk on his face, "you three are the most incompetent, pathetic Valar I've ever had the misfortune to meet or defend. And if you think, Mandos, that I'll come dashing to your rescue every time something comes jumping out of the trees at you, you are sadly mistaken."
Mandos glared, dusting spider-webs off his robes.
"Where is Sauron?" asked Nienna, changing the subject before it became a topic of contention.
"I presume that since he actually serves a purpose in the Third Age, he's gone to wherever Dark Lords go," said Lórien.
"Mordor, in this case, I suppose," said Nienna.
"What do we do now?" asked Fëanor.
"We try to get out of Mirkwood before the spiders eat us," said Nienna. "Ugh, I hate spiders."
All the Valar hated spiders. Spiders brought back very unpleasant memories of Ungoliant and the darkness that had fallen over Valinor. Fëanor remembered this, but didn't feel very sorry for the three. He hated spiders as well, but he hated balrogs more.
Unfortunately, this particular Mirkwood was full of spiders, and Fëanor was the only one with a weapon. The Valar found some branches with which they beat off the spiders that attacked them, and Fëanor diced and sliced the larger ones. They remained calm and practical in this stressful situation, but by the time night had fallen, they were tired and cranky. None of them had eaten anything all day.
"I do not think this was a very good plan," said Lórien, as they all shivered beneath the trees, trying to get to sleep. "No one is going to believe us when we tell them about the safe place!"
"Let's just hope we actually meet some people to persuade," said Nienna, who was braiding her hair, as she always did when she was anxious.
Fëanor was silent. He was wondering what roasted spider tasted like. It seemed more and more appetizing a dish as the night progressed.
Mandos was silent as well, but he was not thinking about food. He was thinking about his Halls. He was wondering who had been placed in charge of them, and how the fëar were feeling about the inevitable changes. He hoped that they were all right. He hoped that the Halls were still standing. He wondered if anyone had remembered to feed his cat.
Mandos would have been filled with horror if he had been able to see what Tulkas and Nessa were doing to his Halls. Fortunately, he did not know that Nessa was wallpapering them with an unseemly orange and pink patterned wallpaper. He did not know that Tulkas had ordered new furniture, of the 'stainless steel' variety, to give the place a more modern look. He did not know that the fëar were all harried and miserable, not to mention confused. They missed Mandos. They missed his dull routines and schedules and paperwork. With Mandos in charge, everything had been organized. Everything had been quiet, peaceful, nearly relaxing. The atmosphere had been hushed and reverent.
The Halls of Mandos were hushed and reverent no longer. The place was pure chaos, and, if any one thing terrified Mandos, it was chaos.
Fëanor did not realize how lucky he was to be out of the Halls. He felt more hungry than lucky. The last thing he had eaten had been pizza.
Fëanor sighed. Mandos sighed. Nienna and Lórien sighed. They were a sad and pathetic sight.
At that moment, they could hear someone walking quietly down the Mirkwood road. He rounded the bend, and Fëanor found himself face to face with the Elf he had heard so much about: Prince Legolas Thranduilion.
The two disliked each other instantly. Legolas eyed the tall, elaborately clad Elf-Lord covertly, keeping a cautious distance from him, which was wise, and Fëanor glared openly at Legolas, having deduced who the wood-Elf was. Fëanor had not been delighted to hear that there was an Elf more famous and beloved than he. Not that Fëanor was particularly beloved by anyone.
Nienna rushed over to Legolas's side. "Legolas!" she said. "What are you doing here? There are spiders about!"
Legolas gave Nienna a perplexed look, wondering why a strange woman had dashed out of nowhere to inform him of something he already knew, but Jennifer had arranged it so that no one would think to ask who the Valar (and Fëanor) were.
"I'm running away," Legolas said. "My father has been throwing wine bottles at my head."
Nienna still felt guilty about having not sent the previous Legolas a vision to account for his foray into Krystalynn's closet. "Where are you running away to?" she asked.
"Rivendell, I think," said Legolas.
"We're heading in that direction," said Lórien, emerging from the bush in which he had been lying. "We would gladly accompany you."
"Do you have anything to eat?" asked Nienna.
Legolas opened up his knapsack and pulled out a loaf of bread. "I brought this," he said. "And some nuts and berries. And a piece of cheese."
Fëanor deprived Legolas of his loaf, much to Legolas's dismay. "I'm starving," Fëanor said, by way of explanation. He tore off some of the bread and began munching it.
"You sound like Sauron when you say that," snapped Nienna. "And you shouldn't snatch." She grabbed the bread from Fëanor and handed it back to Legolas. "Don't worry, dear," she said. "We're all perfectly sane. Just a bit hungry."
At this point, Legolas decided to be noble. He divided his rations into portions for each of them, and then watched as these portions were rapidly devoured. He looked rather glum.
They set out for Rivendell the next morning.
It took a long time to get to Rivendell, but the trip was eventful. Legolas, sick of Fëanor's obnoxious ways, tried to poison him with a few of the more harmful berries he had in his knapsack. Fëanor, sick because he had nearly been poisoned, tried to push Legolas into a river. Mandos was irritated with them and banged their heads together. Nienna said that corporal punishment was cruel. While Mandos was distracted, Lórien pushed him into the river, in a brotherly way. In a brotherly way, Mandos tried to dismember him. Nienna yelled at them all to get along better.
That was just the first day.
On the second day, no one behaved so badly, because Mandos had a cold, and it was making him short-tempered. That meant that they all had to be nice and not get on his nerves, or else someone would die painfully.
On the third day, Lórien was sent out to forage for edible plants, and returned hastily to camp with a horde of Orcs following close behind. Legolas shot twenty-five of them in under two minutes, which left everyone feeling stunned, Legolas and the Orcs included. The surviving Orcs ran away.
On the fourth day, Lórien announced that he was chronically tired, and that he needed to catch up on his rest. He slept for the entire day. Legolas, Fëanor, Nienna and Mandos (who was still sickly) played guessing games for a while, until Legolas managed to offend Fëanor, and Fëanor managed to hack off lots of Legolas's hair with his knife before anyone could stop him. That brought an end to the guessing game. Legolas and Fëanor both had to be forcibly sedated.
Legolas supposedly spent the fifth day in mourning, but he was actually thinking up plots to get his revenge on Fëanor.
On the sixth day, lo and behold, most of Fëanor's hair was tied to a nearby tree. Fëanor was not attached to it. Mandos was knocked unconscious as he attempted to keep Fëanor from throttling Legolas. After that, Legolas hurriedly climbed up a tree and refused to come down. Nienna burst into tears and said that she couldn't handle this sort of life any more. Lórien went to sleep, leaving Fëanor to try to climb up the tree after his nemesis.
On the seventh day, when Mandos regained consciousness, he explained to Fëanor all the horrible things that it was fully in his power for him to do to fëar who were particularly wicked. Fëanor was cowed, for the moment. Mandos proceeded to violently shake the tree until Legolas fell out of it, rather in the way apples do. They continued on their journey.
All was calm.
On the tenth day, they encountered slavers, but eluded them easily. Fëanor suggested that they sell Legolas to the slavers. Mandos suggested that they sell Fëanor to the slavers as well. "We can collect you again when our mission is over," he said. Fëanor tried to pretend it was a joke, though he knew that Mandos did not make jokes.
On the fifteenth day, Nienna insisted on washing everyone's clothing. Fëanor said this was why women shouldn't be allowed to go on long journeys with the 'saner sex'. Nienna thought of the warfare that had gone on in the camp in days past, smiled serenely and said nothing more. The clothes were washed.
By the time they staggered into Rivendell, Legolas and Fëanor's hair was no longer short and mangled. Fëanor had braided his again, with beautiful intricacy (that was how he had occupied the past few days), working the beads and golden threads into it with skill, and Legolas had been grudgingly admiring. Nienna suggested that Fëanor braid Mandos and Lórien's hair, and Fëanor did so, with relish. Lots of tugging and yanking was involved in the process.
The Rivendell Elves, seeing five strangers approaching, were not sure whether to let them into Rivendell or not, but Legolas announced that he was Thranduil's son, and that he needed to take refuge in Rivendell, and the Elves were very understanding. They supposed that the others must be Legolas's friends, so they let them in as well, though they wondered at their terribly old-fashioned clothing.
"Now what?" asked Nienna, once Legolas had gone off to party with his real friends, Elladan and Elrohir.
"We'll find the Barrow-downs on the map," said Mandos, "and then we'll go to the Barrow-downs, make sure the safe place is there, and then tell everyone else about it."
"Jennifer wrote it so that everyone would believe us," said Lórien.
It was very convenient. The three Valar and Fëanor went to consult the map.
The map was a bit of a shock. The Barrow-downs were simply not there. Hobbiton was right next to Bree. The Old Forest was missing. The Barrow-downs were missing. In fact, a large chunk of Middle-earth was completely gone.
"They were there when we wrote about the safe place!" cried Nienna, staring at the map in horror.
"Time must have looped," said Fëanor. He wasn't very upset. As long as they were in Middle-earth, he wasn't in the Halls of Mandos. That was the way he liked it.
"That's it," said Lórien. "That's what must have happened."
Nienna whimpered. "We'll have to wait until the Third Age is over and begins again. Maybe the Barrow-downs will be there the next time around."
"Three thousand years isn't very long," said Mandos. He meant it. For the Valar, three thousand years was a very brief period of time. Nienna smiled weakly, and nodded.
They were all standing around the map when an Elf came walking briskly down the hall. He halted when he saw them, shaking his golden hair out of his widening eyes in dismay.
"Oh, Valar," he gasped.
Mandos smirked. "Exactly, Glorfindel."
TBC...