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.

To the wonderful reviewers: thank you. I've had a pretty miserable week, and your feedback means a lot to me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

'She does not weep for herself...'

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

Nienna did not stop crying. She cried and cried and cried until the water on the kitchen floor rose up to Mandos and Lorien's ankles. Mandos and Lórien did not know how to stop her. They had asked politely, and then they had asked less politely, and Nienna had simply choked out the desperate chant, "I can't stop, I can't stop, I hate crying."

There was clearly nothing that could be done, except to make the best of a bad business.

"If we had a mop," said Lórien, "we could wash this place very nicely."

Little dead cockroaches floated to the top of the pool. The Orc corpses were beginning to bob about. The rats had climbed to higher ground. Mandos had no idea how so much water had fitted in Nienna's body. He wondered if her eyeballs would eventually fall out.

Lórien, staring at the disgusting mess washing around his feet, suddenly realized that a mop would not be much help. Soon after this revelation, he realized that being stoic was giving him no pleasure, and burst into tears as well.

Mandos was startled. He stared at his two distraught siblings, mouth open in astonishment.

"I can't stop crying," wailed Nienna.

"I want to go back to Valinor," wailed Lórien.

"We hate Sauron. We hate spiders. We hate Middle-earth," they wailed.

"Get a grip!" yelled Mandos, who couldn't stand it anymore. "Pull yourselves together!"

"I'm so unhappy," sniveled Lórien.

"Watching the two of you cry hysterically is not giving me any kind of twisted pleasure," said Mandos, "so I suppose I'm not that happy either."

"This is just awful!" sobbed Nienna, wringing out her sleeves so that she could again attempt to dry her eyes.

"You'll make yourselves sick," said Mandos.

"I miss Estë!" wept Lórien. "I miss Lórien."

The water had nearly reached Mandos's knees. He was beginning to get worried. The wooden door to the kitchen had swollen, so there was no way for the water to trickle out of the room. He went over to the door and started yanking at it. It was stuck. Mandos yanked harder.

From their place on the kitchen counter, the rats squeaked encouragingly. Desperate cockroaches attempted to climb up Mandos's leg.

Mandos thought it would be very ironic if he died. It would be even worse if he were drowned by his own sister in a kitchen in Barad-dûr.

At that moment, someone pulled the door open, and Mandos found himself face to face with Fëanor. Water poured out of the room and down the hall. Fëanor looked startled, and then, as he realized what he had just done, he began to look unbearably smug.

Mandos decided that he hated irony. This was the second time that Fëanor had saved his life. He would have preferred to die.

"Having a family crisis?" asked Fëanor, trying to peer around the Vala's shoulder.

Mandos positioned himself so that the Elf could not see Nienna and Lórien having their emotional breakdowns. "Of course not," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"It is very wet," said Fëanor, "and I can hear your brother and sister sobbing hysterically."

The rats and cockroaches frolicked joyfully around Mandos's feet, under the misapprehension that Mandos was their savior.

"Would you like me to calm Lórien and Nienna down?" asked Fëanor.

Mandos realized that he had been gawking at the capering wildlife and not paying attention. "If you think you can calm them down, go ahead and try," he said, stepping out of the way.

Fëanor entered the kitchen, stood before the two Valar, and gave them his inimitable sneer. "How pathetic," he said. "Have you no pride? Are you going to just sit here and give up? If so, I will gladly watch."

Lórien and Nienna stared at him in surprise.

"Go on," said Fëanor. "Cry! Let the tears flow in gentle rivulets down your divine, alabaster cheeks, like rain leaking slowly from the celestial heavens, watering the earth and providing pleasant showers for the underwashed."

Bemused, Mandos realized the source of Maglor's talent.

Nienna and Lórien had nearly stopped crying. They had stunned expressions on their very damp faces.

Lórien snuffled pathetically, wiped his eyes, and glared at the kinslayer. "You are very unkind," he said. "Do you begrudge us a time of mourning?"

Fëanor sniffed. "Mourning? Don't be so self-piteous. You were scaring your brother." He turned to Mandos. "I'll be making a car in Sauron's special forge, so when you are ready to bestow upon me your grateful thanks, that's where you'll find me. Good day."

Fëanor walked out of the room, thinking that Nienna and Lórien were calm. They were not. They were very annoyed, as was Mandos, who did not even know the location of Sauron's special forge, but was not planning to go there anyway, because, being a Vala, he had some pride.

"How dare he come and sneer at us," said Lórien. He straightened his robe huffily, took a deep breath, and hurried out of the kitchen, sick of the very sight of it.

Nienna was still crying, but in a more normal way. As it had been in Valinor, tears trickled slowly down her face, instead of rushing down in torrents. "I suppose I mustn't have been able to put off crying forever," she said. "And the spider attack was a dreadful experience."

Mandos nodded his agreement.

"I think," said Nienna, "that I would be happier if I had a friend with me. A female friend," she added. "I'm sick of being with men all the time."

Mandos could not bring himself to be offended, so he merely nodded again.

Nienna gave him a pointed look. "Could you find me a friend?" she asked.

"Find you one?"

"Yes," said Nienna. "There are lots of wonderful women in your Halls. I'm sure you could find me someone."

"What is that?" asked Varda with frosty calm.

It was a salmon. Manwë and Varda looked at it, Manwë hoping that Varda's question had been rhetorical. Varda watched him squirm.

"It's a salmon," said Manwë at last.

"What are you?" asked Varda, still calm.

"I'm the Lord of the Eagles?" asked Manwë.

"Are you sure?" asked Varda. "Are you quite, quite sure?"

Manwë looked pained. "Yes?"

Varda picked up the salmon and dangled it under her husband's nose. "I'm trying to be a good, patient, loving wife," she said, "but this overabundance of dead salmon is beginning to greatly irritate me. Do you realize that your eagles may be driving the salmon to extinction? The Elves are concerned."

Manwë bit his lip. "I could talk to them..." he said.

"The Elves?"

"No. The eagles."

"No," Varda snapped. "This time, I am talking to them."

"Oh," said Manwë. "Please don't."

"Why shouldn't I?" demanded Varda. "You keep on talking to them, and we have not been getting results. I want results!"

"The eagles have traditions," said Manwë pathetically. "They do not like trying something new. They have been catching salmon for years and years."

"I know that," snarled Varda.

Manwë blinked.

"I would love to try something new," said Varda. "Anything!"

"There's the salad..." said Manwë.

"Aulë has been eating all of it. He says the sight of meat makes him ill, and no wonder," replied Varda. "Yavanna won't even let him nibble on a lettuce leaf in her presence."

"The eagles don't much like strangers," said Manwë.

"The eagles are birdbrains!" yelled Varda. "I'm going to sort them out!"

She set off down the mountain, the salmon still in hand.

Manwë watched her go. Eventually he yelled after her, "Please be careful! Criticism hurts them! They don't like it!"

"I'm sure," muttered Varda fiercely, "that after my little chat with Morgoth, the eagles will be no trouble at all."

Vairë was eating lunch when she heard a familiar voice, speaking in her mind.

Vairë? Can you hear me?

"Y-es," said Vairë, drawing out the word cautiously. "What are you doing in my mind, Mandos?"

Praying, I suppose.

"What?" Now Vairë had no idea of what was going on.

I am simply addressing my thoughts specifically to you. Apparently the people of Middle-earth occasionally communicate with the Valar in such a way. Mandos sounded smug. I wondered if it would actually work.

"Well, it is working," snapped Vairë.

This is very interesting. I have never had such an experience before. No one ever prayed to me.

"What were they supposed to ask of you?" demanded Vairë. "It's not like you were going to make their stay in your Halls any more fun if they asked nicely."

I suppose continued Mandos, thoughtfully that not many people have been able to hear the answer to their prayers in this fashion.

"I presume you had some specific request?" Vairë was sick of his musings. She wasn't used to him talking this much.

Of course. If I didn't have a request, it wouldn't be a prayer, would it? retorted Mandos.

"Sometimes people pray because they want to praise us," said Vairë, being thoughtful in turn. She wouldn't mind hearing Mandos praising her. Eru knew he didn't do that often.

Mandos didn't even bother to respond to her last statement. I need you to withdraw someone from my Halls.

"You make it sound as though the Halls were a bank," said Vairë. "Are you even allowed to take people out of your Halls without permission?"

No, but it is possible. Mandos was growing hesitant.

Vairë smirked. "Your stay in Middle-earth has changed you, Mandos. Are you asking that I bend the rules for you?"

If you fill out enough paperwork– Mandos began.

"Doing paperwork doesn't make it any less wrong," said Vairë righteously. And then she remembered that she had been bending the rules herself, and felt terrible. "Who do you want me to 'withdraw'?" she asked.

Lúthien Tinúviel.

"What!"

I know she is in the section of the Halls reserved for mortals, but that should not make the necessary paperwork more difficult. When it comes to Lúthien, rules rarely matter, you may have noticed.

"Is that supposed to be in any way consoling?" asked Vairë. She knew that the 'necessary paperwork' would take a while to fill out, even if it wasn't 'more difficult'. "Why do you need her?"

Nienna wants some female companionship. She is not enjoying Barad-dûr. A large spider jumped on her head. She thinks that she would be happier if she had someone to share her sorrows.

Vairë scowled. "Did she ask specifically for Lúthien?"

No replied Mandos, hesitant again.

"Couldn't I withdraw someone slightly less... dazzlingly beautiful?" asked Vairë.

If you like Mandos replied coolly, still contriving to sound slightly hurt by her suspicion.

"Very well," said Vairë with great reluctance. " I'll get her out."

Thank you.

"Mandos?"

Yes?

"I miss you. A little." Vairë hated to admit it. She had been so used to seeing him all the time, and now he had been gone for years.

I shall return soon.

Mandos was gone. Vairë sat and glared at the kitchen table. He had not said he missed her too, of course. Maybe he did miss her. Or maybe not. Why did he want Lúthien?

Vairë glared harder, and then smiled to herself. Mandos would return soon. It would be a day of reckoning.

With Mandos, it always was.