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 THIRTY
'In all the deeds of Melkor the Morgoth upon Arda, in his vast works and in the deceits of his cunning, Sauron had a part, and was only less evil than his master in that for long he served another and not himself.'
-J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Silmarillion'
Luthy sat in front of her computer. She had been writing nonstop for about twenty minutes, and her fingers were sore. Every time she tried to slow down, Morgoth would freeze her computer, and then mock her efforts as she tried to save it.
That was not the worst of it. The worst of it was that Fëanor had died thirty seconds into the new fanfic.
Where had hecome from? Why were Mandos, Nienna, and Lórien in Barad-dûr? Luthy could only assume that Sauron had captured them somehow, and yet they had seemed rather happy... until Morgoth had showed up.
Luthy could not believe that she had killed Fëanor. She was in love with Fëanor! Fëanor would never die in such a pathetic way! Swatted against a wall by an evil Vala! Never!
There was no way to save him. Morgoth would not let her delete any of the story. He forced her to type and type and type.
At this moment in the story, Morgoth was alone. He was sitting in a chair that had been recently vacated by Lórien, and he was feeling very sorry for himself.
Luthy could not believe that either. She could not believe that she was sitting in her own apartment, at her own computer, being forced to write Morgoth angst. The whole situation had the feel of a cruel joke.
No one had ever attempted to understand the complicated inner workings of Morgoth's mind dictated Morgoth by means of another pop-up.
"I bet no one wants to," muttered Luthy to herself, typing out the sentence angrily.
I'll have none of your back talk! snarled a pop-up.
The computer froze. Luthy hammered grimly at the escape button.
Muahahahaha! cackled Morgoth evilly.
"All right, all right," said Luthy. "I'll type your stupid angst."
Few people could even comprehend the deep thoughts that ran through Morgoth's mind dictated Morgoth.
Luthy could not believe that she was writing such tripe.
"What?" boomed Tulkas.
"Morgoth returned," repeated Fëanor, "while you were playing ring-around-the-rosy."
Tulkas had not actually been playing ring-around-the-rosy. He had been avoiding outraged Maiar.
Fëanor had assumed his favorite attitude, and had his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised scornfully. The fact that he barely came up to Tulkas's knee did not daunt him in the slightest.
"Oh!" said Tulkas, as this information sunk into his head. "I have to stop him!" he cried.
"That would be the general idea," said Fëanor.
Tulkas sprinted across the Halls of Mandos.
"Are you just going to leave without me?" Fëanor yelled after him. "After I gave you such vital information?"
Tulkas was already gone.
Fëanor had no intention of being left behind while the Vala knocked some sense into Melkor. He huffed in pure frustration, and then hurried through the Halls of Mandos. When Nessa wandered by, looking vague and confused and worried, he ducked behind a curtain, and, by happy chance, discovered a door.
On the door was a sign that read:
OUTFITTING ROOM
That seemed promising. Fëanor flung open the door and stepped into the room.
He blinked.
The room was filled with bodies hanging up neatly on coatracks. At first, the place looked like it contained the remnants of a horrible massacre, but a moment later, Fëanor realized what it was. This was where fëar collected their new bodies before they returned to Valinor!
It made perfect sense. Fëanor smiled to himself, and started looking for his new body.
Unfortunately, the Maiar in charge of the outfitting room spent most of their time mending bodies, not creating new ones. Since Fëanor's body had once again been completely incinerated, it would take a long, long time for them to make him a replacement.
"Hmm," said Fëanor to himself. He turned around and saw a plaque on a wall. The plaque said:
All bodies are subject to change without notice.
In a corner, he found some pieces of paper that were labeled: WASHING INSTRUCTIONS.
Wash with soap and warm water.
Towel dry.
Do not iron.
"Hmm," said Fëanor again.
Fëanor decided that since his own body was unavailable, he would borrow someone else's. After all, he was desperate, and appearances, he reminded himself, do not matter quite so much when one is desperate.
When he found a body that suited his tastes, and tried to put it on, the whole thing rapidly burnt up. Fëanor had a very fiery fëa.
Fëanor was about to say 'hmm' again when the door began to open. He ducked behind Turgon, and watched.
"Well, this looks like the place," said a voice that was unmistakably Celegorm's.
"Ugh, it's kind of freaky," said Amras.
"There you are!" said Maglor, pointing to two identical bodies. "They must be in alphabetical order."
Amrod and Amras hurried over to the bodies and began arguing over which one belonged to whom.
"Hey, Maglor," said Curufin, "how would you like to go back as Daeron?"
Maglor was more than offended by this slight to his singing. "How would you like to go back as Dior?" he snapped.
"I have a feeling that we fëar are not supposed to be running rampant in this room," announced Caranthir triumphantly to no one in particular.
Maedhros had said nothing. He was flinging bodies out of his way in his haste to find his new one. Now he stood up, clinging to it jubilantly. Need it be said, it was as tall as he. "Look!" he cried. "Two hands!"
"Bravo," said Celegorm.
"Hello, sons," said Fëanor, stepping out from behind Turgon.
Seven ghostly jaws dropped.
"I don't seem to have a body," said Fëanor, "and none of you seems to have anything urgent to tell me, so I'll just take Maedhros and be gone." He hoped that the body of one of his sons would hold up a bit better than Fingolfin's had.
Before Maedhros could recover, his father had grabbed his hröa by one of its hands and begun pulling. Maedhros, who had his body at last, was not ready to part with it. He refused to let go of the other hand. For a few moments they tugged and yanked frenziedly. Eventually the inevitable occurred and Maedhros's body simply tore in half.
Maedhros stared down at his remains in horror. Fëanor was not quite so appalled, but it wasn't his body that was lying in pieces on the floor.
Maedhros, recovering his power of speech, choked out a fancy Quenyan word that even Sauron would have blanched at saying.
"Dear me," said Fëanor blandly. "What language."
"Don't get paternal on me now, after all these years," said Maedhros, his voice shaky with fury. "First you ruined my life, and now you have ruined my next life in advance!"
"That's me," said Fëanor, shrugging. "Always lowering the standards."
Maedhros actually spluttered with rage.
Fëanor realized that it was time to go. He ran out of the room, and sprinted through the Halls of Mandos.
He had to find a way to get back into Middle-earth, so that he could escape his vengeful son.
And so that he could defeat Morgoth too, of course.
"'Valued servant'," muttered Sauron to himself. "Hah. He must think I am a complete idiot."
Sauron was in a bad mood. He sat in a corner of the battlements, staring vaguely into nothingness, with a slight frown on his face. He was thinking. If he had known the circumstances of the next time he would be able to sit and think for hours, he might have tried to enjoy this moment of painless contemplation a little more.
Ringwraith Three had to clear his nonexistent throat several times before Sauron even bothered to look at him.
"What?" snapped Sauron.
"Master, there's a girl..." began Three pathetically.
"Really. A girl?" Sauron arched his perfect eyebrows. "And?"
"She's standing at the gate, demanding that you come out and engage in single combat with her, Master," said Three.
"Amazing how all these things suddenly happen at once," remarked Sauron. He stood up. "Lord Melkor is unaware of this development?"
"At the moment, yes, Master," said Three.
"Very well. I shall deal with her myself," said Sauron. "But first, I have orders for you and your fellow Ringwraiths."
"Yes, Master?"
"I want you to hunt down an Elf by the name of Legolas," said Sauron. "He should not be too hard to find. When you have him, bring him back to me secretly. No one must know that I sent my servants out to get him."
"Yes, Master. We shall be very secretive," said Three.
"Keep the screeching to a minimum, if you can," said Sauron. "It may scare people, but it gives you no hope of sneaking up on anyone."
"We shall be sneaky, Master," said Three.
"And whatever you do, do not kill Legolas, or let him escape to Valinor. "
"Yes, Master. We shall go at once," said Three.
"You'll have to take the horses," said Sauron, "because Mandos and the others are riding the Fell Beasts."
Three left. Sauron walked over to the battlements and peered over the side. He had very good eyesight, and with it, he could see a familiar-looking girl standing at his gate, waving her sword and yelling.
It took a few seconds before he realized who she was. She had called him 'Harry Potter' and nearly thrown him out a window.
Sauron smiled to himself. He was still in a bad mood, but he was seeing new possibilities at every moment.
"Greetings, Amanda-Lynn!" he shouted down at her.
Amanda-Lynn jumped nervously, and whirled around to glare up at him. "Come down and fight me!" she yelled. "I shall rid the world of your evil presence!"
"I am very sorry," said Sauron. "I do not really have the time to fight you at present. My Master and I are taking over the world."
"Your master?" echoed Amanda-Lynn, a hint of tentativeness slipping into her voice.
Sauron nodded sadly. "He is even worse than me. If you must kill us, you should kill Him first, while you're fresh, and then you can rid the world of my evil presence."
He paused, to let this sink in.
"You see, I may be an inconsequential Maia, one who is certainly not any match for your great strength and power," continued Sauron, "but destroying me might tire you, and then my Master would mash you into pulp before you could say 'ouch, that hurt'."
She waved her sword again. Her arm was going to get very tired soon. "It doesn't matter!" she yelled. "I am the daughter of Varda and Manwë Súlimo!"
"Really?" Sauron arched his eyebrows again. "Do they know you are in Middle-earth associating with nasty Maiar? This is a big, dangerous world, after all. They might be worried about your well-being."
"I have powers!" yelled Amanda-Lynn.
"Care to demonstrate?" Sauron lounged against his wall and looked down at her with entirely unconcealed amusement.
Amanda-Lynn pointed at the wall and muttered something.
For a long, unsuspenseful moment, nothing happened.
"Nothing is happening," said Sauron.
Amanda-Lynn yelled at him to be quiet and let her concentrate.
Sauron nodded, waved good-bye, and walked away, leaving her to stew in the heat.
He was not always so considerate.
TBC...