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 THIRTY-ONE
'Sauron stood in the high tower, wrapped in his black thought; but he smiled hearing her voice... He thought to make her captive and hand her over to the power of Morgoth, for his reward would be great.'
-J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Silmarillion'
"Morgoth is back," breathed Vairë.
Panic would set in later. For now, all Vairë did was sit and stare at her tapestry. "How can this be?" she muttered to herself. Morgoth had simply appeared out of nowhere. He was supposed to be in the Void. The Void was supposed to be inescapable. And Mandos's very thorough security precautions had never been faulty before.
Vairë tried to yank out her recent weaving, (anything to buy a little more time for the unfortunate denizens of Middle-earth), but to no avail. The threads resisted her best efforts.
Nothing like this had never happened before.
At this point, panic washed over her. Vairë leapt up from her loom and ran from her hall, heading in the direction of Taniquetil. She was not going to keep secrets from Manwë any longer. After all, he was the only one who could help her.
He was the only one who would know what to do.
"I cannot believe we are doing this," said Lórien. "Stealing the Ring of Power from an innocent little hobbit? We'll cease to be good Valar! We'll be villains!"
"We are hardly in league with Morgoth," said Mandos, mainly in an effort to silence his brother.
"You are right, Mandos," said Nienna. "We are only in league with Morgoth's trusty minion, Sauron. That should count for less."
Mandos scowled, but said nothing more, because the three Valar were getting closer to the stables where the Fell Beasts were kept. Orcs were lazing about in the shadows, glugging grog and singing uncouth songs.
"What's the plan?" asked Nienna softly.
"Do we have one?" asked Lórien.
Mandos shook his head. "We don't have a plan yet," he said. "We'll know what to do when we actually see the fell beasts."
"I hope," muttered Nienna.
They sneaked into the stables, which smelled revolting, like everywhere else in Mordor. They looked at the fell beasts, and each experienced an unpleasant sinking feeling.
The fell beasts were not the friendliest of creatures, nor were they the cleanest, prettiest, or most docile. They were, however, ugly, evil, dirty, and disgusting, and there was nothing they liked more than turning people into little pieces of confetti. They hissed and snarled and slobbered at each other. They screeched and screamed. They flapped their massive wings, eager to fly around and unleash destruction on an innocent populace.
"I think Sauron must have been joking when he suggested flying around on those things," said Lórien, sounding strained, like someone on the verge of hysteria.
"I think," said Mandos, "that he was serious."
"I think he wants us to die," said Nienna. "That's the only explanation."
"He wants us to bring him his Ring first," said Mandos.
"Which might not be the best of ideas," replied Lórien. "Once he has it, he'll destroy Middle-earth."
"Which is why we won't give the Ring to him when we have it," said Mandos.
Nienna and Lórien engaged in a little synchronized blinking. "What?" asked Nienna.
"Of course we cannot give the Ring to Sauron," said Mandos. "We're Valar. We don't assist the Other Side; that wouldn't be right. We can use the Ring ourselves, and get rid of Morgoth once and for all. Then we can destroy the Ring, and Sauron as well."
Lórien and Nienna decided that this was a good idea.
"Now," said Nienna, "how exactly do we ride a fell beast?"
The Mouth of Sauron, who shall henceforth be known as the MoS for the sake of convenience, possessed brilliant timing in all matters. He had been out on an important mission, and, returning, had discovered that Morgoth had come back to Middle-earth in his absence. Not only had the MoS avoided Morgoth's detection, but he had happened to be loitering outside the stables when the Valar hatched their little scheme. Their conversation had given him a good insight into recent events.
The MoS wasn't the handsomest man around, but he had the advantage of being a snazzy dresser. He wore black, mainly, and had a very nice, swishy cloak (also black) adorned with sinister black embroidery. A horse-like creature by the name of Cruncher completed his ensemble. It too was black.
The MoS had been taking Cruncher to the stables to refresh itself after the long journey, but he now had second thoughts. With three Valar in the stable, it would not be a good idea for him to going waltzing in with Cruncher. They would grow suspicious.
During their lengthy stay in Barad-dûr, the Valar had never seen the MoS, nor had he seen them. But his Lord had explained their purpose, so the MoS understood that they were not to be hindered in their own mission. Still, he thought that perhaps his Lord did not realize all that the Valar were plotting.
The MoS thought for a moment. He could stay and watch the Valar attempt to mount the fell beasts, a sight that would surely be amusing, or he could go and inform his Lord of everything at once.
He opted on the second course of action. A report of these matters, brought to his Lord immediately, would make his Lord happy. Keeping Sauron happy was, for the most part, the goal of his existence.
Of course, this was because if Sauron was not happy, the MoS's existence would probably end pretty quickly.
The MoS went to the Dark Tower, and looked for Sauron. Finding him did not take long. He was sitting at his desk in his office, doodling on a piece of paper. Sauron's surprise at seeing the MoS enter his office with Cruncher behind him was trumped only by the MoS's surprise at seeing Sauron's new look.
"You are taller, my Lord," gasped the MoS involuntarily, dropping his black helmet in surprise.
"Oh, really?" asked Sauron. He watched the MoS's helmet roll around on the floor, looking almost as if he wished the MoS's head were in it. "I thought the ground had just gotten farther away."
As his M shuffled around, Sauron put his quill pen down and gave him his full attention, much to the MoS's dismay. Sauron's full attention was never a comfortable thing to have.
"Did you come to tell me something other than the obvious?" Sauron asked.
"You have sent the Valar to take your Ring, my Lord?" asked the MoS.
Sauron nodded.
"They do not plan on giving it to you, my Lord," said the MoS.
Sauron chuckled. "Of course not," he said.
"I hope you do not mind me asking," said the MoS humbly, "but have you sent them to claim your Ring? They are Valar. They could destroy you, my Lord."
Sauron did not take offense. "That is why I must let my Ring destroy them," he said. "There are three of them. Do you really think they will unanimously agree on who should wield the Ring?"
"No, my Lord," said the MoS, awed.
"Exactly," said Sauron. "You must remember that my Ring has several powers. Yes, it renders its wearer seemingly invisible, but it also renders him mad."
"What if they resist its powers?" asked the MoS.
"My Ringwraiths are in the area," said Sauron. "They will retrieve the Ring from the Valar."
"Your brilliance amazes me, my Lord," said the MoS.
Sauron was rather susceptible to flattery, but he managed to wave away the praise with some semblance of modesty. Then he said, "You should probably hide."
"Hide, my Lord?"
"Yes," said Sauron. "If I know Melkor, and I suspect I do, one of the first things He will do is kill all my loyal minions. I would prefer for you to live."
"I would prefer to live as well, my Lord," said the MoS.
Sauron rose. He was tall, taller than his M had first thought. He looked scary, which was clearly his intent. The MoS stared up at him, wide-eyed.
"Come here," said Sauron.
The MoS faltered.
"Come on," said Sauron. The Maia watched, smirking, as the MoS slowly crept forward.
"My dear Mouth," Sauron said, very softly, "if you are so set on living, please do not attempt to double-cross me. It may seem like a good idea at the time, but you will most certainly regret it."
"Yes, my Lord," said the MoS hoarsely.
"I see everything," said Sauron.
"Yes, my Lord," said the MoS.
Sauron took a step back and grinned. "Well, then," he said, "I think we understand each other. Have you anything else to report?"
"There's a girl outside," said the MoS, recovering rapidly. "She is waving her arms and yelling a lot."
"That would be Amanda-Lynn," said Sauron, and his grin broadened.
Sauron might have been cheerful in the presence of the MoS, but he was actually becoming rather worried. The situation was not good, and it was steadily growing worse. In fact, after Amanda-Lynn's unexpected appearance, things began to go even more wrong with shocking speed.
Sauron, slipping silently through the dark halls of his dark tower, banged into someone who was doing the exact same thing.
Sauron nearly fell over, and the other person did fall over, and landed on the ground with a soft squeak of dismay. She shook her hair out of her eyes and looked up at him, and Sauron and the Lady experienced a moment of mutual horror and revulsion.
"Lúthien!" gasped Sauron, taking an involuntary step backward.
"Sauron!" gasped Lúthien, wriggling away from him.
Lúthien was very short. Sauron was very tall. It was no wonder that they had not seen each other.
"What are you doing here?" hissed Sauron. "Did you bring the dog?"
"Vairë sent me," whispered Lúthien rapidly, "to keep Nienna company. And no, I did not bring 'the dog'."
Sauron slumped against the wall again. "Do you realize," he asked, "that Melkor has returned?"
Lúthien's already pale face went paler. "Morgoth?"
Sauron could only nod.
"You'll try to bring me to him, won't you?" asked Lúthien.
"Of course," said Sauron. "You cannot even comprehend how much I hate you."
"Well, you cannot come in physical contact with me," said Lúthien. "Vairë set up an invisible wall before she sent me to Middle-earth. Males cannot come within a meter of me. She said that you could –and I quote– 'look but not touch'. You did not actually run into me," she finished. "You ran into my invisible wall."
Sauron took a deep breath. "I might not be able to bring you to Melkor, but I still can't let you go scampering around Barad-dûr , getting into all sorts of mischief," he said. "I'll hide you. Get off the floor."
Lúthien got off the floor. "Thank you," she said.
Sauron was already walking briskly down the hall, not looking back. Lúthien slipped after him, her bare feet making no noise on the slippery stones. She savored the feeling of being alive again, because she had a vague premonition that this state would not last long.
It was impossible to ignore the fact that Lúthien was beautiful. From her head to her toes, every part of her body was perfectly formed and proportioned. She had a pretty, practical face, and the look of someone who is capable of dancing gracefully in a woodland glade, as well as dancing gracefully before Morgoth himself.
Vairë had explained the situation to her before she had left, but it had been very confusing. Mandos, Nienna, and Lórien had apparently come to Middle-earth, and had been living with Sauron in Barad-dûr. When Lúthien Tinúviel had arrived, they had been nowhere to be found, and everyone and everything had been in great disarray.
Suddenly, all of Barad-dûr shook. Lúthien kept her balance with an effort, and Sauron turned back and glared at her, as if she was the one causing the disturbance. After all, anything was possible with Lúthien.
"What's happening?" she asked.
Sauron peered out a slitted window. His eyes widened, and he shook his head in weary disbelief.
The very foundations of Barad-dûr quivered.
KNOCK, KNOCK.
"What is happening?" repeated Lúthien. "Who's there?"
"Tulkas," said Sauron, feeling resigned. Obviously his life was not going to get better any time soon. "Tulkas has arrived."
TBC...