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.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

'You ought not to be rude to an eagle...'

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

"What are we having to eat?" asked Varda.

It was dinner-time in Ilmarin, and Varda was readying herself for the task of cooking whatever Manwë brought her. Varda liked to cook, but there were some foods she was sick of preparing. She turned to her spouse, cooking implements in hand. "Please tell me we're not eating salmon again."

Manwë could not truthfully tell her that, since he was holding a salmon in his hand. Varda winced.

"I know we've eaten salmon every night for two centuries," said Manwë, "but my eagles like catching fish. I don't want to make them feel unappreciated."

"Tell them they would be more appreciated if they caught something other than salmon," said Varda.

"They don't take constructive criticism well. It hurts them."

"All right. That's fine. You can gut the poor thing this time," said Varda, tying her apron around her waist. "If I see the entrails of one more fish, I am going to scream. Loudly. And then I shall explode a few stars, so as to vent my annoyance in a creative way."

Manwë went to get a knife, somewhat subdued. Varda reminded herself that Manwë was a perfect spouse, unlike Mandos, and that she should be grateful. After a few minutes, Manwë came back with the gutted fish. He looked ill.

"Vairë came over this morning," said Varda to take his mind off the fish. She opened her cook book and flipped through it, her mood completely dismal. She wished someone would write a book called 10,001 Unique and Interesting Ways to Cook Salmon. It was the sort of book she desperately needed.

"Did you have a nice time with her?" asked Manwë.

Varda nodded. "She gave us a welcome mat." And she drank three cups of tea.

"Oh." Manwë had not noticed the new welcome mat. He tried to look as though he had.

"She said that she'd ripped out some of her weaving, in the light of yesterday's revelations. She is very bitter," said Varda. "She says she hates the people of Middle-earth."

Manwë frowned. "That doesn't sound like a good attitude for a Vala to have."

"No, it doesn't." Varda stared at the salmon. She felt sorry for it. It had died so that she might eat another horrible fish dinner. She couldn't even properly appreciate its sacrifice.

"I wonder if she is being corrupted somehow..." murmured Manwë, who was growing paranoid about corrupted Valar. He found some lettuce for a salad.

Varda looked at the fish again. "Couldn't you explain to your eagles that we don't want any more salmon? They're big enough to be bringing us deer!"

"I feel so sorry for them, though," said Manwë, slicing cucumbers. "I mean, after all that Morgoth did to them..." Manwë got choked up just thinking about it. When some of Manwë's eagles had fallen into Morgoth's hands, he had ripped their wings off. The survivors had gone on to lead happy, productive lives, after they had spent years in a rehabilitation unit, but it was still a horrible, evil thing for Morgoth to have done.

"I know, my love," said Varda, rubbing his back comfortingly. "But they're all right now."

Varda went back to her fish, pondering the possible relation between Vairë's strange attitude and the world's first Dark Lord.

It took a while to calm Glorfindel down. He had managed to get out of the Halls of Mandos (without the permission of Eru, Manwë or Mandos himself) and had managed to start living a happy and normal life in Rivendell, and then, suddenly, there were three Valar and a First Age Elf standing in the hallway staring at him. To make matters worse, Mandos had a half irritated, half triumphant so-we-meet-again look on his face and Fëanor was simply being smug.

It never crossed Glorfindel's mind that perhaps he could attack Mandos and make his getaway. Glorfindel was not at all similar to Fëanor. This is why Fëanor was so smug. It never crossed Fëanor's mind that perhaps Glorfindel was making a better impression than he had, simply because he was not attacking Mandos.

"Wha– what are you d-doing here?" stammered Glorfindel at last.

"I could ask the same of you," said Mandos. He was enjoying himself. "You were not supposed to leave my Halls."

"It was an accident, you must believe me!" cried Glorfindel, backing away slowly. "I do not even know what happened!"

Mandos, who derived great pleasure from doing paperwork, had a very large file under Glorfindel's name. Glorfindel was an enigma. Sometimes there was one of him, sometimes there were two of him. He drifted effortlessly in and out of the Halls of Mandos. He was not supposed to able to drift in and out of the Halls of Mandos, especially not effortlessly. He was supposed to stay in the Halls of Mandos until he had permission to leave.

Glorfindel had nearly recovered from his shock. Since Mandos was not hauling him back to Valinor, Glorfindel decided that he had time to talk his way out of trouble. "You'd better not all stand in the hallway like this," he said hastily. "Come to my study."

Mandos, Nienna, Lórien and Fëanor trooped after Glorfindel, who carefully avoided going near the other Elves of Rivendell. They reached his study and entered it. Glorfindel sat down on top of his desk, swinging his feet, and looked up at them blithely.

Mandos was picking his way through the wreckage. There were things on the floor of Glorfindel's study that Mandos had not imagined even existed. He glared down at Glorfindel and asked, much in the way he had asked Krystalynn, "What is this strange device?"

Glorfindel looked at what Mandos was holding, and said, "It's a cigarette lighter."

"What is that? What is a cigarette?" asked Mandos.

Glorfindel shrugged. "I have no idea," he said. "It makes fire, though."

Mandos put the cigarette lighter on Glorfindel's desk. Then he said, "How did you escape my Halls?"

"I haven't a clue." Glorfindel gave another rather lavish shrug. "I was minding my own business–"

Fëanor snorted. He and Glorfindel had met.

"– and then I was here," continued Glorfindel, "in Rivendell, and, according to Lord Elrond, I had been here for years. Apparently Manwë sent me here on some 'special mission' or something."

"He never did anything of the sort," said Lórien. "Manwë said that unleashing you on Middle-Earth a second time would be extremely cruel."

"I'm touched," said Glorfindel, looking poignant. "It was kind of him to think of sparing me from the trials of this world."

"I think he meant that it would be cruel to inflict you on other people a second time around," said Lórien.

"The evil power sent him here," said Nienna in hushed tones.

Glorfindel blinked, no longer poignant. "May I ask what's going on? What has brought Fëanor and three Valar to Rivendell?"

"It would take a good deal of explaining," said Lórien.

"I have time," said Glorfindel.

Glorfindel had always been horribly polite and obliging, remembered Fëanor, even in the Halls of Mandos, where very few fëar had bothered to be nice. He collapsed into Glorfindel's armchair and sprawled there, glaring at everyone who met his eyes.

"You are not supposed to be the same Elf as First Age Glorfindel," said Mandos. "At least, I think so. I am not sure, however." Admitting this was difficult for Mandos, so he admitted it rapidly and moved on. "There are evil forces at work. They are twisting history into something different from what it should be."

Glorfindel nodded wisely, looking completely blank. Then his eyes widened as he heard footsteps in the hall. "Speaking of evil forces!" he cried, and leaped up as though he had been scalded. "Quick! Hide!"

Mandos and Lórien were so startled that they did not protest as Glorfindel stuffed them into his supply cabinet. Fëanor, with great presence of mind, hid behind the armchair. Nienna scrambled behind Glorfindel's desk. Glorfindel ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed down his robe and opened the door to his study.

"Erestor!" he said cheerfully. "So good to see you!"

Erestor sniffed. He clearly felt that Glorfindel's behavior was suspect at best. "Good afternoon, Lord Glorfindel," he said stiffly. "I have some papers for you to sign."

"Oh, that's good," said Glorfindel, trying to wrestle the papers away from Erestor. The other Elf's idea of 'some' differed drastically from Glorfindel's idea of 'some'. The stack weighed as much as a small dog.

"I want them all signed. Lose one paper and you will lose your head," said Erestor scowling. He clung to the papers, unwilling to relinquish them. "I should like to make sure these papers get to your desk, Lord Glorfindel," he said.

Erestor entered Glorfindel's study, ignoring Glorfindel's panicky look, and carefully made his way to Glorfindel's desk. Nienna looked a good deal more panicky than Glorfindel. She tried to be smaller and more invisible, but Erestor saw her anyway.

"Well!" he huffed, slamming the papers down on the desk and eyeing Nienna in open astonishment. Then he turned around and flounced out of the room, muttering something about how he could tell when he wasn't wanted.

Fëanor emerged from behind the armchair and collapsed across it, sniggering with wicked amusement. Mandos and Lórien staggered out of the supply closet, offended for their sister's sake. Nienna was half-horrified and half-grinning.

"I'm sorry about that," said Glorfindel apologetically. "But don't worry. Erestor's not the sort of the Elf who'd go and tell everyone about you, Lady Nienna. He's the sort of Elf who'll try to blackmail me later." Glorfindel sighed, looking at the huge stack of paperwork, and then gave Mandos a sly glance. "Would you like to do something for the Greater Good?" he asked.

Mandos was indecisive and wary. He always got nervous when people started talking about the 'Greater Good'.

"Fantastic!" said Glorfindel, deciding that Mandos's indecision meant that he was eager to assist. "Here's a pen," he said, shoving a pen into Mandos's hand, "and here's some ink," he continued, uncorking an ink pot. "My signature is very easy to fake. It just looks like a scribble anyway."

Mandos might have protested, but he rather liked the thought of signing things for a few hours. It was comforting to do so in this time of upheaval. He sat down at Glorfindel's desk, shoving lots of miscellaneous debris off to the side, and started reading over the papers.

"So," said Glorfindel, "will you be staying here long?"

"Yes," said Lórien. "We'll be staying until the end of the Third Age."

"Oh. I see. And that is... how long..?" asked Glorfindel, eyebrows raised.

"We cannot tell you that," said Mandos, signing busily.

"Yes, that's classified information," said Fëanor, smiling sinisterly from his corner.

Suddenly Nienna was beaming at them all delightedly. "We can bring an end to this quickly!" she cried, practically clapping her hands with glee. "Perhaps we shan't have to wait for thousands of years!"

"Really?" the Fëanturi asked as one.

"Yes!" said Nienna. "All we have to do is make Legolas leave Middle-earth earlier than he usually does!" She turned to Fëanor, who clearly knew what she was going to say next, because an even more sinister smile was creeping across his face. "Fëanor, do you think you could make Legolas's life absolutely miserable?"

"Yes," said Fëanor, with calm assurance. "I think I could."

"It is not quite fair," said Mandos slowly. Mandos was not cruel. He simply had a strong sense of justice, which tended to go against what other people wanted. He did not like doing things that were not fair.

"It's for his own good," said Nienna.

Glorfindel was watching them. He looked as though he were mentally putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and arriving at some interesting conclusions. Eventually he said, "Tea is served about this time. Are you hungry?"

"Yes!" said Fëanor, jumping out of the armchair. "I'm famished! All I have had to eat since Mirkwood were nuts and berries."

"And cheese and bread sometimes, don't forget," said Nienna. "I am hungry, though."

"You are my honored guests," said Glorfindel courteously. "I cannot have you starving. That would not be polite." He offered Nienna his arm, with quite an impudent glance back at Mandos, who was smoldering. Nienna actually giggled as she accepted Glorfindel's arm, which did nothing to improve the Vala's mood.

They wandered down to the dining hall for tea. There were piles of scones sitting out on the tables, with all sorts of jams beside them. There was tea, of course, the aroma of which made everyone suddenly feel ravenous. There were fresh buns made of sweet bread, smothered helplessly in cream.

Fëanor grabbed a plate and began piling food on top of it, demonstrating very little tact or deliberation. Glorfindel and Nienna selected plates more thoughtfully and strolled along beside the tables, quietly discussing various teas and scones with each other. Mandos and Lórien watched them.

"He is only teasing us," said Lórien hopefully.

Mandos nodded, though he wasn't sure. "It will end in doom," he said.

"Oh Eru, I thought I'd heard the end of that," said Lórien, and he went off to find a plate.

Mandos glanced around and saw Erestor, who was sipping tea in a corner and glowering at people. There was a book on the table beside him. Mandos strolled over and sat down across from the Elf. "Good evening," he said.

"Good evening," said Erestor, his tone more suited for a threatening comment than a friendly one.

Mandos suddenly wondered how Erestor and Mrs. Tey would get along. He had visions of them sitting in the library together, contentedly reading their separate books. He thought they would probably like that.

Erestor was looking at Glorfindel with narrowed eyes, clutching his teacup with inky fingers. Suddenly he said, "I do wish Lord Glorfindel would keep his mind on his work."

Mandos nodded, agreeing fervently.

"I end up doing half of Glorfindel's jobs anyway," said Erestor gloomily. "Often more than half. And while I'm working, he goes off and flirts with ladies!" Mandos thought he heard the Elf mutter, "It's not fair" as an afterthought, but he couldn't be sure.

Mandos said, "I can speak to him about it."

Erestor looked skeptical. "He's very lazy. It would take a Vala to make him work. But perhaps you should speak to him about it, if you could. It would be good, albeit surprising, if he made a bit of effort for a change." He savagely bit into his scone. "Reincarnated balrog-slayer indeed!"

Mandos excused himself and went over to the tables. Everything looked far too sweet for his tastes. In the end, he chose a wheaten scone smeared with blackcurrant jam, and poured himself some chamomile tea to drink.

He joined his brother and sister at their table. Fëanor was already eating his third cream bun. There was a dusting of powered sugar on his perfect nose. Nienna and Glorfindel kept on grinning at each other. They obviously viewed themselves as accomplices and fellow conspirators. As for Lórien, he was too busy drinking mint tea and eating ginger and orange-peel scones to get embarrassingly over-protective.

As they were finishing their tea, Legolas entered the dining hall, with Elladan and Elrohir beside him. They looked as though they were having too much fun.

"Fëanor," said Mandos, "now is the time for you to prove your worth."

"Once you know my worth, what will you do?" snapped Fëanor, who was still rather sulky about the slaver incident.

Mandos regressed to his old ways, and said nothing.

Fëanor stalked off to deal with Legolas.

TBC...