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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
'Then he died; but he had neither burial nor tomb, for so fiery was his spirit that as it sped his body fell to ash, and was borne away like smoke...'
- J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Silmarillion'
It was time for Maedhros's plan to come to fruition. Maedhros had been making the posterboard signs for a long time, decorating them with sparkly markers and glitter and pretty, attention-grabbing stickers. He had been chatting with Mandos's disgruntled Maiar, and dropping little hints to his brothers, preparing them for the day of escape.
At last, everything was ready.
"Today," Maedhros announced, "is the day."
His brothers looked at him skeptically. "Oh, is it really?" asked Celegorm. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," said Maedhros.
"So, what will we do?" asked Amrod.
"We will stroll out of Tulkas's Halls," said Maedhros, "heading for the Outfitting Department, where we will find our new bodies, all ready to be put on and worn in Valinor. We will put them on, go to Valinor, and live happily ever after."
"Really?"
"Yes," said Maedhros.
"It sounds very... simple," said Maglor.
"That," said Maedhros, "is the brilliance of it."
"Shouldn't there be some sort of distraction or something?" asked Caranthir.
"There will be," said Maedhros.
Suddenly... there was.
Tulkas had read his entire book of knock-knock jokes to his fëar. He had done so three times. He had written to the publishers of the book, asking if there would be a sequel, but there had been no reply, since angry protesters had burned down the publishing house a long time ago. The protesters had been slightly deranged, because Tulkas's incessant outpouring of knock-knock jokes had driven them around the bend.
Tulkas did not know this. He only knew that book of new knock-knock jokes was unlikely. Therefore, he had started writing knock-knock jokes himself.
Nessa was helping him.
"Knock, knock," said Tulkas.
"Who is there?" asked Nessa.
"Donkey," said Tulkas.
"Donkey who?" asked Nessa.
"Donkey oaty," said Tulkas.
They laughed.
"I don't think donkeys eat oats," said Nessa when they were done laughing.
"Really?" asked Tulkas. He was lounging elegantly in a new deck chair, under the skylight that Nessa had had installed in Mandos's office.
"I think they eat grass," said Nessa. "But I'm not sure. Deer are more in my field."
"Deer eat grass," said Tulkas. "And deer are like donkeys."
"Except deer are prettier," said Nessa.
"That's my dear," said Tulkas punnily.
Nessa giggled at her husband fondly. She was riding around Mandos's office on her unicycle with three golf balls balanced skillfully on her head. "You are hilarious," she cooed. "Such a wit!"
Nessa flung herself off of the unicycle and into Tulkas's arms. The golf balls battered his head like large hailstones. "I love your sense of humor," she said.
Tulkas beamed at her.
Then a bunch of enraged Maiar battered the door down and started running around like headless chickens. Headless enraged chickens.
"Strike, strike, strike!" yelled the Maiar, waving their signs.
STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! said the signs.
The Maiar started striking the surprised Valar with their signs.
"Down with the oppressors!" yelled the Maiar. "Up with the downtrodden masses!"
This, of course, was the distraction that Maedhros had planned so carefully. It had not taken the Elf very long to persuade the Maiar that Mandos would be appeased if Nessa and Tulkas were driven from his Halls.
"Sacrilege!" yelled the Maiar, seeing that Mandos's office had been destroyed. "Destruction of private property!"
The Maiar went even more berserk. They started smashing Nessa's hapless unicycle to pieces, whilst others started frantically filing the misplaced paperwork.
"Soon Mandos will return!" the Maiar cried. "The end is near!"
"Calm down," suggested Tulkas.
The Maiar did not hear them. They were experiencing great panic at the sight of all the work they would have to do before Mandos came back.
"Nessa," said Tulkas, "I think we should leave."
"Yes, dear," said Nessa.
For our heroes and villains, many hundreds of years had passed since they had been on 'Earth', fighting each other in Luthy's bedroom. For Luthy, only ten minutes had passed since said heroes and villains had exited her apartment, leaving her alone with Melkor and her beloved computer.
With Melkor threatening the existence of her beloved computer, Luthy was putty in his hands. Since Luthy was not really putty, and Melkor did not really have hands, this phrase is meant figuratively.
It was the dawning of a bright new millennium, a beautiful, clear day, when Melkor cast off the makeshift shackles of the lesser Valar, and returned to Middle-earth. wrote Luthy. Then she asked, "Er, wouldn't a dark, dismal, stormy night be more... atmospheric?"
I defy atmosphere! said the Melkor-pop-up obnoxiously. And I see through your pathetic trick! You are trying to buy more time for yourself, young lady, but I am not fooled. Write on!
Luthy wrote on.
Dark Lord, kinslayer, and Valar were in a convivial mood.
Sauron was in a convivial mood because his work had been going well of late. In perhaps as few as fifty more years, he would be powerful enough to reclaim Middle-earth. The Valar had not been interfering with his career. They had been gardening. Sauron had asked them to do this somewhere where his minions wouldn't have to see the garden - the sight of flowers and vegetables growing in Mordor might easily lower their morale.
Fëanor was in a convivial mood because he had finished building his car, and Sauron did not know he had finished building his car, and best of all, the car actually worked. When Sauron's inspectors came to inspect the car, Fëanor assured them that it was progressing well, and then pretended to be unable to start it, apologizing with convincing, but faked, sincerity. When Sauron's spies came sneaking by, Fëanor had pretended not to notice them, had kicked the car's wheels and cursed and begged, until the spies returned to Sauron to tell him that Fëanor was making absolutely no progress at all. When no one was around, Fëanor practiced his driving. He was getting quite good at not running over things.
The Valar were in convivial moods for different reasons. Nienna was happy because her all-vegetable diet was making her thin and healthy. Lórien was happy because everyone else was, and Mandos was happy because he had hopes that soon history would start looping, and he could finish his job and go home.
The five beings sat around a table convivially, eating stewed turnips.
"Happy new year," said Sauron.
"Happy new year," chorused the others, beaming.
"A new millennium has dawned," said Sauron reflectively, sitting back in his chair and popping the last piece of stewed turnip in his mouth. He decided that once he ruled the world, he would never eat another stewed turnip again.
Fëanor, smiling euphorically at his bowl of vegetable mush, was considering the various exciting uses for his completed car. He saw Sauron looking at him quizzically, and, unsure of what conversational development he had missed, said, "Yes, I agree", thus confusing Sauron even more.
"I'm glad to hear you agree," said Sauron eventually. "Is there anything else to eat?"
The next moment, Fëanor died.
It happened very quickly. One moment he was sitting at the table, full of good cheer and stewed turnips, and the next moment Morgoth was in the room, looking vicious and confused. Fëanor, not one to look at his worst enemy and remain rational, leapt to his feet, drew his sword, and got batted across the room by Morgoth. He hit the wall, and promptly died. His body seemed to crumble away, and soon only a little pile of ash remained.
It was all very sad and sudden.
When Fëanor sat up again, it took him less than three seconds to realize what had happened. The sight of his misty hands gave him a jolt, and then he yelled, "What? I died again?"
Convivial mood gone, he jumped lightly to his feet. His ghostly robes billowed around him. In that regard, being in the Halls of Mandos was much like being underwater. Fëanor was so furious that he stomped his foot, calling Morgoth all the bad names that came readily to mind. This took a good ten minutes.
Fëanor had been gone from the Halls of Mandos for a long time. He had grown used to be alive. He had enjoyed himself. He had hoped that maybe he would not die again, that maybe he could stay out of the Halls of Mandos forever.
What would Mandos, Nienna, and Lórien do without him? The poor things couldn't take care of themselves. As for Sauron... well, Fëanor suspected that he knew which side the Maia was really on.
"Fëanor...? You're back...?" asked another fëa faintly.
"No, I'm not back," snarled Fëanor. "You are sleeping, and this is a nightmare. Get out of my way."
Fëanor shoved his way past all the stunned fëar who had congregated when he had first appeared, and stomped off, having doubts. He was fairly certain he was back. He knew he was dead, at least, and probably in the Halls of Mandos. The problem was that the Halls of Mandos looked a lot... different. He did not remember the pink and orange wallpaper. He did not remember the fëar looking quite so harassed.
Then Fëanor remembered that these halls were now the Halls of Tulkas. Clearly, Tulkas had not been a blessing disguised as an idiot. He was just an idiot.
Unfortunately, Fëanor would have to convince this idiot that Morgoth was back. Then Tulkas would have to convince the other Valar that Morgoth was back. Then the Valar would worry about it for some time, and eventually decide to do nothing. That was the way the Valar generally operated.
Or, thought Fëanor, he could figure out a way to defeat Morgoth himself, without the help of the Valar.
Fëanor considered this, and then decided to look for Tulkas first. Perhaps the Vala would surprise him with some clever strategies.
He sighed, and began what would be a rather lengthy search for Tulkas.
Luthy sat in front of her possessed computer, in a state of shock.
"Did I just kill Fëanor?" she cried.
Yes said Morgoth smugly. Wasn't it fun?
TBC...