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.
Yes, Strange Alliances has indeed returned, after a longer-than-expected break. Thank you reading, reviewing, and prodding me to get this story restarted. (And, of course, my groveling apologies for the lengthy delay.)
I will try to post a new chapter every week on Monday; this might not always be possible. If that is so, I will post the new chapter whenever I can.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
'He put the ring in his pocket almost without thinking; certainly it did not seem of any particular use at the moment.'
-J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Hobbit'
It turned out that Sauron's form of help did not differ in the least from anything he had done before. He sat in his little corner and made sarcastic remarks, and told them no more stories, neither cautionary nor explanatory. In his opinion, he was being very helpful, much more helpful than any Dark Lord should ever be. If he chose to dispense his wisdom in the form of sarcasm, who could blame him?
After enduring several penetrating insults at Sauron's tongue, Maedhros lost his temper. Such an event had been inevitable from the beginning.
"Your help has been somewhat lacking," Maedhros said, glaring down at the Maia.
"Do you think so?" asked Sauron mildly. "Perhaps you should learn to better cope with constructive criticism."
At the prospect of an argument between a son of Fëanor and a Dark Lord, Lúthien, Amanda-Lynn, Fëanor, the MoS, and Elfdeath all started paying attention, while trying to look preoccupied with other matters. They had been hiding in close proximity with one another for some time, accomplishing very little, and some drama was welcome.
Maedhros, however, kept a very tight reign on his temper. He managed a rather distorted and disturbing smile in Sauron's direction. "I bear you nothing but goodwill," he said.
Sauron blinked. "Oh?"
"I would like to help you," said Maedhros.
"You needn't," said Sauron. "I expect nothing in return for my services."
"That's what I like about you," said Maedhros, with another contorted smile. He was trying to be cheery.
At this point, Sauron became genuinely alarmed. "What sort of help do you propose to give me?" he asked.
"Your legs need to be splinted," said Maedhros, "or they will heal all wrong. Fortunately, I know something of... the medicinal arts."
"My legs will be fine," said Sauron.
"They will be fine," said Maedhros, "once I've tended to them."
From her corner, Lúthien asked, "Do you really know anything about splinting broken bones, Maedhros?"
"If anyone must splint my lord's legs," said the MoS, in an attempt to demonstrate his loyalty, "I should."
Sauron looked even more alarmed. "I'd rather you didn't, Mouth," he said. "The knowledge of medicinal arts isn't really your strong point."
"Someone should help him," said Lúthien. "Sauron is, after all, a living creature, and it is our duty to keep living creatures from living in pain and misery. We can't let his legs heal all wrong when we are capable of helping him. That would be cruel."
Sauron blinked again. He decided that the strange thing about people with moral values is that they are very good at persuading themselves that whatever they want to do is the right thing to do, and in everyone's best interests.
Sauron asked, "Do I have a say in this matter?"
Maedhros chuckled. "Well... no, you don't," he said. "You are outnumbered, and you can't go anywhere."
There really wasn't a good way to respond to that kind of statement, so Sauron said nothing. He said nothing when Maedhros practiced some medicinal arts on him. Afterwards, he merely said, "Thank you, Maedhros. That was very helpful," and then he sat with his eyes closed for a while.
Sauron considered himself to be surrounded by the clueless and confused.
Sauron had warned Fëanor with a roundabout directness, telling him to his face that he was a skilled necromancer, and that Fëanor had good cause to fear him, being dead. But Fëanor was not yet used to being dead, and did not take Sauron's warning into account, which was a serious mistake. Sauron mentally relegated Fëanor to the 'clueless' category.
Lúthien was confused. Explanations on the part of Fëanor had done nothing to help her. Fëanor's explanations were so confusing they probably made the situation worse.
Maedhros was also confused, but less confused than Lúthien. Fëanor had explained that, after being whisked out of the Halls of Tulkas, he had ended up in an entirely different world, had adventures with the Valar, agreed to help them, created a Safe Place for the inhabitants of Middle-earth, come to Middle-earth, tried to kill Legolas, etc., etc. Maedhros, who knew his father very well, knew enough to read between the lines, and therefore got a pretty accurate picture of what had really happened. It did not all make sense to him, but he realized it was possible.
Elfdeath was clueless, but devoted, and the MoS was confused, but potentially traitorous. Sauron kept his eye on him.
Amanda-Lynn... well, she was clueless and confused and annoying. She had apparently promised Legolas that she would engage in single combat with Sauron, kill him, and save the world. Her bizarre fantasy had been amusing at first, but eventually everyone grew tired of hearing her talk about it as though she were capable of such a feat.
The biggest problem –for Sauron, at least– was that everyone wanted to kill him, except Elfdeath, who didn't count. He was lucky that he'd gotten away with merely having his legs splinted, since the only thing stopping most of them from killing him was their fear that doing so would make the Ring more powerful. The only thing stopping Morgoth from killing Sauron was the fact that he couldn't find him.
"There's a price on your head, Sauron," reported Fëanor one day, after he returned from his reconnaissance mission. "Today Morgoth discovered that you let the Valar escape. He is not amused."
"He never had a sense of humor," said Sauron.
"He has been stomping around Barad-dûr, coming up with some brilliant ways of torturing you," said Fëanor.
"It's so nice to be able to look forward to something," said Sauron.
"And he's been offering his new minions all sorts of wonderful rewards for your capture," said Fëanor.
"The lazy wretches need incentive," said Sauron.
"I really think you should be more worried."
"I don't believe worrying ever did anyone any good," said Sauron. "I myself never worry. I scheme."
This was true.
Annoyed, Fëanor reflected that his conversations with Sauron never seemed to go as planned. The Maia refused to take the situation seriously. He should have been overcome with panic by this point. Perhaps if he had heard Morgoth's threats, he would have been more worried. Morgoth, devoid of a sense of humor, had clearly not been joking about Sauron's fate at his hands.
"How do you plan to evade Morgoth forever?" asked Fëanor. "Sooner or later, someone will think to look in the utility closet."
"Several people have already thought to look," said Sauron. "They disappeared."
Fëanor looked sharply at Sauron, and Sauron looked sweet and innocent (or as sweet and innocent as someone with yellow eyes and pointy teeth can look).
Sauron smiled. "It's never a good thing when minions show signs of initiative and creative thinking," he added, raising his voice just a little. "It never pays."
Somewhere in the shadows of the large utility closet, the MoS stirred guiltily.
"Don't you think so, Mouth?" asked Sauron.
"Whatever you say, my lord," said the MoS.
"Anyway," said Sauron, turning abruptly back to Fëanor, "I do not have to hide from Melkor forever. I need only to hide for a little longer, and then all my problems will be solved."
Fëanor was suspicious. "It will be that easy?"
"I did not say it would be easy. It won't be long," said Sauron. "The Valar are doing something for me, instead of doing something to me. Makes a nice change for everyone involved."
"I see," said Fëanor. "That's very good of them."
"They think they're doing it for their own interests," said Sauron, "but yes, I suppose it is good of them."
At this point, Amanda-Lynn and Lúthien returned to the utility closet, squabbling as only two beautiful women can. Amanda-Lynn and Elfdeath were the only two creatures who could come within a meter of Lúthien, and this was probably a bad thing.
Amanda-Lynn said, "I don't see why everyone thinks you're so special. You didn't kill Morgoth. You didn't fight Morgoth. You merely danced around and lulled him to sleep."
Lúthien said, "Fine. If you're so special, why don't you go out and challenge Morgoth to single combat? I could do with a laugh."
Amanda-Lynn flung back her head, and all her thick blonde hair flew about majestically. She said, "I'm not saying Iwant to fight Morgoth. I just don't understand why everyone lauds you for such a trivial feat."
Lúthien sighed. "Please," she said, "let us end this pointless debate. We'll ask Sauron what he thinks."
"All right," said Amanda-Lynn.
Lúthien and Amanda-Lynn advanced on the Maia.
"Sauron," said Lúthien perfunctorily, "do you think Amanda-Lynn should challenge Morgoth to single combat?"
"Oh yes," said Sauron.
"Wait a moment!" said Amanda-Lynn, backpedaling.
"That would prove, beyond all doubt, that Amanda-Lynn is much braver than I, wouldn't it?" said Lúthien.
"Yes, it would," said Sauron. "Beyond all doubt."
Amanda-Lynn said, "But– I– I mean–"
Lúthien and Sauron looked across at each other, perfect understanding glinting in their eyes.
"I– really– I couldn't–" stammered Amanda-Lynn.
"Nonsense!" cried Sauron, suddenly and scarily avuncular. "You are too modest!"
"Far too modest," put in Lúthien.
"Go forth and fight," said Sauron. "You have my blessing; much good may it bring you."
"I don't want any blessing of yours!" said Amanda-Lynn fiercely. "It would probably backfire horribly!"
"You are going to need all the blessings you can get, my dear," Sauron said.
Bilbo was sitting outside his hobbit hole, basking in the warm sunlight and smoking his pipe. These were favorite activities of his, if indeed they could be described as 'activities'. Being a hobbit, Bilbo disliked doing anything that was even slightly strenuous, with the exception of the odd adventure now and then. In that way, Bilbo was quite different from other hobbits.
Three exceedingly tall individuals strolled into his garden.
Bilbo stared at them, so astounded he actually felt compelled to remove his pipe from his mouth. He stood up and said, "Good morning."
"Good morning," said the three exceedingly tall individuals as one.
They all stood and looked at each other for a long moment.
"Well," said one of the men, "aren't you going to do something, Mandos?"
"Such as knock the poor dear over the head and make off with his Ring?" asked the woman. "Sounds like fun. Go for it, Námo."
The tallest man, looking grim and irritated in long black robes, turned around to scowl at the others. "Perhaps you should do the knocking and snatching, Nienna. It seems that I've been the one doing all the dirty work of late."
"But you do it so well," said Nienna, fluttering her damp eyelashes and clasping her hands before her.
Bilbo cleared his throat. "Good morning," he said again, forestalling Mandos's retort.
Nienna came forward and curtseyed low to him. "Good morning, Master Hobbit," she said brightly. "I trust you are in fine form and fettle?"
"Er... yes," said Bilbo, retreating slightly.
"Wonderful!" said Nienna. "Now, my brothers and I have something... important... to ask of you. Believe me, we are very reluctant to make demands of you, but, if you help us, you will have helped save Middle-earth from a great evil."
"Oh," said Bilbo. "What do you want?"
"A mere trinket," said Nienna, lying through her teeth. "A ring."
None of the Valar missed the sudden wary –and almost angry– look that flashed briefly across the hobbit's face. Nienna winced, realizing she had made a misstep. "I don't have time to go into details," she said, plowing ahead bravely, "but if you continue to keep it, you might be killed by servants of the Enemy, and if you give it to us, we will use it to protect Middle-earth."
"But even if I give the Ring to you, I might still be killed by servants of the Enemy, mightn't I?" asked Bilbo. "Except they won't get the trinket, so my death won't matter."
Nienna blinked. "Well..." she said. "I hadn't really thought about that..."
Bilbo said, "I have been in contact with the Elves, and I know all about the Valar, and I know that's what you are."
This time it was Nienna who took a step back. "You are a very well-informed hobbit," she said, eyeing him as one would eye a snake that had suddenly started singing in iambic pentameter.
"And therefore not what you expected?"
Nienna nodded.
"In that case," Bilbo said, "why don't the three of you come inside, have some tea and cakes, and tell me what is going on?"
The offer of tea and cakes sounded very good to the three Valar, who had skipped several meals and were feeling strangely hungry. Unfortunately, the delicious snack was not meant to be.
The ringwraiths might have reached Bilbo's hobbit hole before Morgoth's minions, but the ringwraiths were guided only by the call of the ring, and Morgoth's minions were guided by Luthy's insider knowledge. Though Luthy was, to some extent, a purist, she had been willing to give Morgoth's servants a little boost, hence their early arrival.
At the sight of a lot of evil creatures charging towards him, Bilbo quickly took action. "Hide!" he cried, diving into his hole. Lórien also dove, or attempted to dive. He misjudged the distance and bashed his head on the lintel.
"Hurry up, you bumbling buffoon!" growled Mandos, in no mood to be forgiving. He thrust his brother through the door and followed rapidly.
The ceiling would have been low for any average-sized human being. For an elf, it would have been even lower. For the Valar, it was so low that crawling became their most reasonable mode of movement.
Mandos, Nienna, and Lórien crawled after Bilbo.
"Please," said Nienna, "if you gave us the Ring, we could spare you all this unpleasantness."
"And we could spare ourselves this unpleasantness," muttered Lórien and Mandos with grim accord.
Bilbo had been fumbling with something in his pocket, which he proceeded to accidentally drop on the floor. The Valar lunged at it, sending the hobbit flying.
Sauron would have been proud, had he been able to see the ensuing riot. Bilbo, Nienna, and the Fëanturi did lots of violent things to each other in their effort to get to the One Ring before anyone else did.
At last a certain Vala felt his hand close around something cold and hard. He felt the evil power trapped within the gold pulsing to his heartbeat.
"Got it!" he cried triumphantly, and shoved Sauron's One Ring on his finger.
TBC...