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.

Thank you for reading/reviewing! I'm sorry that I was unable to post this chapter on Monday; I shouldn't have that problem again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

'In the beginning of Arda Melkor seduced him to his allegiance, and he became the greatest and most trusted of the servants of the Enemy, and the most perilous, for he could assume many forms...'

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

Tulkas was standing in front of the moat, engaged in an unexpected foray into the foreign realm of problem solving. The moat was very deep, and filled with hot lava. At first glance, there was no way to get across.

At second glance, there was still no way to get across.

At third, fourth, and fifth glance, followed by a good half hour of baffled staring, there was still no way across.

Tulkas scratched his head.

"Greetings, Tulkas," said Sauron. He was standing on a high tower near Tulkas's head, but far enough from him to be safe. "My Master desires that you depart at once."

"Oh, really?" said Tulkas. "That's too bad. I'm coming to get him."

"No, you aren't," said Sauron. "You are standing over there, admiring my moat, little knowing that Mandos, Lórien, and Nienna are at this very moment cowering in a torture chamber somewhere where you will never find them."

"Huh?" said Tulkas.

Sauron nodded sadly. "Listen, scram, OK?"

Tulkas looked confused. This was because he was confused.

"If you stay here," said Sauron, "I can promise you that all sorts of horrible things will happen to those three. Melkor has had thousands of years to think up good ways of making Mandos rue the day he became Eru's favorite jailer."

Tulkas's eyes narrowed. He had not planned on leaving with Morgoth still happy-go-lucky and undefeated.

"I happen to have Nienna with me right now," continued Sauron.

"I thought you said she was cowering in a torture chamber somewhere where I would never find her," said Tulkas, in a burst of near-genius.

"I lied," said Sauron. "Nienna has a few things she would like to say to you."

Nienna came over to his side. She looked terrible, very scared and upset, but mercifully unhurt. "Fly, Tulkas!" she cried. "Leave now, while you can! If you don't, my brothers and I will suffer greatly! Leave! Leave!"

"Er..." said Tulkas.

"Hurry, you idiot!" screamed Nienna. "Melkor is more powerful than ever before! He will destroy you if you try to fight him all alone!"

"I'll be back, Nienna!" said Tulkas. "I'll bring the other Valar to save you!"

"This is very touching," said Sauron. "Just get out of here."

Tulkas strode away, continuing to look determined.

Sauron took a deep breath, and let it out shakily. Then he clapped his hands, and the Nienna-illusion vanished.

Lúthien tiptoed through the halls of Barad-dûr. There were orcs, evil men, and other indistinguishable minions everywhere. There were also a lot of bats.

Lúthien could not believe that she showed up at such a bad time. Was she cursed? She needed to find a good hiding place, and quickly, before Morgoth clapped his eyes on her.

A spider scuttled across her path, and Lúthien pulled back with a whimper. She hated spiders, especially if they were the size of large cats.

"Lúthien?" asked the spider.

And most especially, she hated them if they talked.

"I'm Elfdeath," hissed the spider. "Sauron sent me to find you a good hiding place."

"He did?" asked Lúthien suspiciously. She thought it would probably be a mistake to trust a spider known as 'Elfdeath'.

The spider bobbed up and down, which was evidently its version of nodding. "He said to tell you that, though he still hates you, he had fun filling Taur-nu-Fuin with horror, so he might as well help you once, to thank you for directing him there."

Lúthien thought that this sounded like something Sauron would say. It was hard to tell whether it was a threat, or merely a little bitter sarcasm. "All right. I'll come with you," she said. But she picked a large metal pipe off the ground, just in case.

Elfdeath trotted briskly down the hall, peering into nooks and crannies. She had just finished directing the MoS to a good hiding place, and was feeling rather proud of herself.

"Do you mind telling me," asked Lúthien carefully, "what exactly is going on?"

"Melkor has returned," hissed Elfdeath. "But Master will defeat him."

Lúthien snorted. "Really? How?"

"He can do anything," replied Elfdeath with great conviction.

Sauron had acquired a limp and a bad headache. It was making his job yet more difficult. As he limped down the disgustingly filthy halls of Barad-dûr, he wished that he had made the whole place a lot smaller. It would have saved so much time: both in construction, and in daily perambulation.

Sauron was considering this when an ethereal form came loping down the hall towards him. It was Fëanor.

"Maedhros is here!" cried Fëanor. "He's coming!"

"What can he do to you?" asked Sauron. "You're dead."

"I'd rather avoid him, that's all," said Fëanor.

A red-headed Elf emerged from a room and came stalking towards them. He looked very threatening, and very real and solid. He had a sword in one hand, and a knife in the other, which added greatly to the 'threatening' part.

"I have seen Maedhros before," said Sauron. "That Elf is not Maedhros."

"Oh, yes it is," said Fëanor. "No doubt about it. I tore his new body in two accidentally, so he took Amrod's. Or Amras's. It doesn't really matter."

The eyes, which belonged to either Amrod or Amras, narrowed at the sight of Sauron. The mouth belonging to either Amrod or Amras formed a sinister smile that distinctly resembled Fëanor's.

"Are you sure it is Mae–" Sauron started to ask.

"Well, look who it is," drawled the Elf. "It's Morgoth's pet Maia, the one who comes up with such brilliant ideas."

"Oh," said Sauron softly. "It is Maedhros."

"I am sure you were well rewarded," continued Maedhros, still smiling the sinister smile. "Morgoth must have loved the thought of chaining a prisoner to a precipice by one hand."

"Yes, He was very pleased," said Sauron. "Did you enjoy the view?"

"The view of what? Ash? Dead grass? Unbounded devastation?" demanded Maedhros.

"I enjoy that kind of view," muttered Sauron.

"Maedhros," said Fëanor, "was it Sauron who suggested doing that to you?"

"Oh, yes," said Maedhros.

Fëanor looked at Sauron with a peculiar expression on his face, and Maedhros continued, speaking to his father in almost conversational tones. "It was quite a clever idea. There was only one problem with it."

They were all well aware of the problem with the clever idea. Sauron scowled at the two Elves, put on the defensive for once. Sometimes wonderful schemes backfire, with unforeseen and unpleasant consequences.

"The problem," said Maedhros slowly, "is that there is always a chance that someone will come along on an eagle and simply cut the hand off."

"Don't worry about the hand," replied Sauron. "I kept it as a souvenir."

Being immaterial, Fëanor did not actually have to step out of their way, but he did so nevertheless. Sauron had looked wan and tired, but he shifted into werewolf shape with startling speed, and was on top of Maedhros in an instant, pinning him to the floor. Maedhros, however, was not easy prey. He had two hands again. He had a sword (now nearly useless, in such a close conflict) and a knife.

Violence ensued.

Then Lúthien was in their midst (or a meter away from their midst), Elfdeath hissing and creaking along behind her. "What are you doing?" Tinúviel shrieked, waving her metal pipe around. "We have to fight Morgoth, not each other!"

Sauron took a new form: the body of a vampire, because vampires are always intimidating. He let his sharp teeth brush the neck that belonged to either Amrod or Amras, and Maedhros went still and tense at the touch. For a brief moment, no one breathed, though Fëanor hadn't been breathing much anyway.

"You are right, Lúthien," Sauron said. He stood up stiffly, and Maedhros followed his example, hardly cowed. The Elf glared at all of them.

"I know we do not like each other," said Lúthien, "but we really must defeat Morgoth."

"And we should work together," said Fëanor, reluctantly.

"It is not just a matter of disliking each other," said Maedhros. "Even if I do not like Lúthien and am angry at my father, I know that they have good motivation for wanting Morgoth defeated. But I do not trust Sauron."

"Oh, that's predictable!" cried Sauron, flinging up his hands in disgust. "No one ever trusts me!"

"Except for Morgoth," said Lúthien. "Hmm... I wonder why."

"Because he's an idiot," said Sauron instantly, not thinking for once.

"Exactly," said Maedhros. "And in the same way, we would be idiots to trust you."

"All right," said Fëanor to the ex-Dark-Lord. "Give us two good reasons for why we should trust you, please."

"Why two good reasons?"

"Any liar can come up with one good reason," said Fëanor.

"Maybe we should make him come up with three good reasons," said Maedhros, "because I'm sure Sauron is a very good liar."

"Two reasons should be enough," said Lúthien. "Let's hear them."

"You will not believe me," said Sauron, "no matter what reasons I give you."

Maedhros smirked. "Try us."

"Sauron!" bellowed Morgoth from somewhere in Barad-dûr.

"Well, isn't that convenient," said Fëanor.

Sauron hissed, "If you think that being summoned by Melkor is ever convenient–"

"Sauron!" yelled Morgoth. "I'm counting to three! Come here!"

Sauron whirled around and limped rapidly down the hall, Elfdeath scampering after him.

TBC...