SMOKE: One Night at the Laughing Vala

SUMMARY: A bet among the Valar has some serious consequences for three of them. My thanks to Beruthiel’s Cat for some of the best lines in this. The story wouldn’t be half as funny if not for her input.

RATING: PG-13 for language and adult situations dealing with over-indulgence of alcohol and its consequences.

WARNING: Humor abounds... you know the drill.

****

Aman, Second Age c.1200:

Olórin was giving the Valar his report on the mood of the Elves with the departure of Glorfindel for Endórë. They were gathered in one of the larger audience chambers in Manwë and Varda’s mansion in Valmar listening to the Maia give them his findings.

"I wandered the streets of Tirion and Avallonë," Olórin told them, "speaking to various Elves and asking them what they thought of Lord Glorfindel being allowed to return to Endórë."

"What did you learn?" Manwë asked.

"Those of Tirion I think were more... upset by your decision than those of Tol Eressëa."

"Reborn or Once-born?" Námo asked.

"Ah... a most interesting thing, my lord," Olórin said with a slight bow to the Lord of Mandos. "Most of the resentment seemed to come from the Once-born and primarily from the Noldor in Tirion. The people of Tol Eressëa, I think, accept that they are here and no longer there."

"Well, we will have to deal with the resentment," Manwë said. "We’ve come too far in bringing harmony once more among the Children to allow it to fester into open rebellion again."

They all nodded.

"These Children are rather good at becoming troublesome without half trying," Tulkas said with a sigh.

"Unpredictable to say the least," Námo stated with a grim smile.

"How do you stand to mingle with the Children as one of them, Olórin?" Tulkas asked, more in curiosity than anything, for he had little to do with the Elves.

"Even I never bothered to do that," Oromë said before Olórin could answer. "I remained a Vala among them from the beginning."

"I find that taking their forms and characteristics allows me to understand them better," Olórin replied in an equable tone. "They are admirable Beings and there is much to learn from them."

"I cannot imagine what," Tulkas insisted, "though I admit I have had little contact with them except for the odd princeling or two." He laughed then and the other Valar smiled.

"Do you actually become as one of them or do you just pretend?" Námo asked. He had never thought about it himself and realized he knew less about this particular Maia than he liked.

"Sometimes I will become wholly elven," Olórin conceded. "I find that it helps me to understand why they do the things they do."

"Seems a waste of time to me," Oromë said with a frown.

"Does it take much practice... being like them I mean?" Varda suddenly asked.

Olórin bowed to her. "In the beginning I fear I made dreadful mistakes but I found in time it became easier, though I still have to be careful."

"Hmph... how hard can it be?" Tulkas asked.

"If you think you can pass as Elves...."

Everyone turned to Irmo with various expressions ranging from puzzled to amused. Námo eyed his younger brother with a slight grin. "Is that a challenge I hear, little brother?"

Irmo smiled back and gave them an elegant shrug. "If you like."

"What would the challenge be, though?" Oromë asked, looking intrigued.

"That at least one of us cannot do a better job of passing him- or herself off as an Elf than Olórin."

"Well, if Olórin can do it..." Námo said somewhat dismissively, though only Vairë knew he was putting on an act.

Olórin actually looked offended and not a little hurt. "If thou thinkest it easy, my lord, I would see thee try," he said between gritted teeth.

"As would I," came the surprising statement from Manwë.

Námo then stood and gave the Elder King a bow. "Then I accept the challenge."

"As do I," Tulkas said almost immediately, rising as well.

"And I," Oromë echoed as he also stood.

"Then here are the parameters of the bet," Manwë said. "You will become as elven as you are able and will not be able to use your usual powers as Valar. You will remain in elven form for one night. I think that will be long enough." He gave Irmo and Olórin enquiring glances. Both of them nodded their agreement with the Elder King’s decision.

"What is the wager then?" Námo asked.

"If you can maintain your elven forms without mishap for one night," Irmo replied, "then... the rest of us have to do the same, but if any of you fail, all three of you have to remain in elven form until you get it right."

"Or until we’re able to repair the damage," Manwë added with a small smile.

Everyone laughed at that.

"Olórin will accompany you, though he will remain unclad," Varda said. "As the one with the most experience, he will act as judge and will not interfere with anything that happens."

The three Valar nodded and bowed again to Manwë, each indicating agreement to the terms. Then Námo turned to Olórin. "So, what exactly do we do?" he asked, sounding suddenly unsure and hesitant.

Olórin, to his credit, did not smile, though he was laughing on the inside. "Let me show you, my lords...."

****

The crowds in the streets of Eldamas were thinning as evening descended upon Aman. Three Elves made their way along, heading towards a certain square where they could hear singing. Warm light spilled out of windows and laughter rang out through the encroaching night as they found themselves standing before the Laughing Vala Inn.

"Now remember," one of the Elves said, "I am Nambaurato."

The one on his right nodded. "And I am Ornendil." Then he looked pointedly at the Elf on Nambaurato’s other side. "And you are Telemnar."

"I still think Telumehtar a better name," the one calling himself Telemnar said with a scowl.

Nambarauto shook his head. "Too obvious."

"And Ornendil isn’t?" Telemnar retorted with a snort.

The one calling himself Ornendil shrugged. "It’s a common enough name. No one will notice."

"But everyone will notice you if you go around calling yourself Telumehtar," Nambaurato said with a frown.

"Fine, then," Telemnar said with ill grace. "Let’s just go in and have some ale. It’s not all that bad, really."

Now Nambaurato flashed his friend a smile. "And you would know, wouldn’t you?"

Telemnar laughed, the sound of it rivaling the laughter coming from inside the inn. Both of the other Elves winced. "I do hope that laugh doesn’t give us away," Ornendil whispered to Nambaurato, who only nodded as the three entered the crowded tavern.

The Laughing Vala was in full swing that evening. Carnifindo was quite pleased with the turn-out. Everyone was talking about the recent departure of Lord Glorfindel for Endórë, for never had the Valar allowed any of the Reborn to return to the Thither Shores. Even the Elves of Tol Eressëa only sailed as far as Elenna. Yet, Lord Glorfindel had been chosen by the Elder King himself as his emissary to the Elves still remaining in the Mortal lands. It was a veritable nine-day wonder and there were as many opinions about it as there were Elves in Eldamas.

The innkeeper automatically looked to the door as it opened to admit three strangers. They were all tall, even by elvish standards, but not remarkably so. The one in the middle had dark hair that looked almost black in the dim light, a color that was rare among the Elves. His eyes were a dark grey and he wore his hair in those oddly bejeweled front braids popular among the Tol Eressëans. This one must have come from Endórë, then, he surmised.

The ellon on his right had hair a few shades closer to true auburn while the one on his left was clearly a Vanya. Carnifindo wondered briefly what a Vanya was doing with two Noldor, one of whom must be a Returnee, or... could it be? Could this be one of the Reborn?

Few of them had yet been seen in Eldamas, except for the high-born Prince of the Noldor and his three otornor. Well, it hardly mattered, Carnifindo decided as he made his way to the three Elves. A Reborn’s coin was as good as anyone else’s as far as he was concerned.

"Good evening, my lords," the innkeeper said with a bow. "Are you in need of rooms?"

The one in the middle shook his head and smiled. Carnifindo decided it was a nice smile and felt unaccountably comforted, though he could not say why. "Nay, sir, we do not. What we are in need of is good food and drink. We were told the Laughing Vala was the place to come for both."

Carnifindo could not help but preen a bit. It was true. He and his wife, Isilmë, had striven hard to provide delicious meals and plenty of good ale, wine and cider to their patrons, as well as comfortable and affordable rooms, and prided themselves on the success the inn had had over the years. "There is a table free in the corner," he pointed towards a spot that was near the stairs leading to the rooms above. "That is, if you do not mind the inconvenience."

"It will do, thank you," the auburn-haired ellon said. His smile was almost as brilliant as the one the first ellon had given him and with a similar effect. The ellon steered his two companions to the empty table. Carnifindo signaled to Eärmirë to serve their newest patrons and the young Telerin elleth made her way to the table.

"What would be your pleasure, sirs?" she asked correctly.

"Whatever is the dish of the day and your best ale," Nambaurato said and the other two nodded.

Eärmirë nodded in turn. "That would be venison pie with frumenty or we have a nice leg of mutton done to a nice turn."

The three ellyn seemed to exchange some sort of silent communication and the dark-haired one answered for them. "We’ll have the pie."

Eärmirë smiled. "A very good choice, sir, I will bring your drinks. The pies will be out shortly." With that, she left them to themselves.

Nambaurato gave a sigh of relief. "Well, so far so good," he whispered, though the two sitting on either side of him heard him and nodded.

"It’s not so bad," Telemnar opined, looking about with interest. "I’ve only been here once and I made sure there were no other Elves except for the innkeeper and his family." He gave them a wicked smile. "I didn’t want to scare away the other patrons before he even opened the inn."

"His expression was priceless," Ornendil replied with a grin.

Eärmirë returned then with three large tankards of the inn’s best brew. They were each taking an appreciative sip when she returned again with their venison pies and frumenty, along with a basket of flat bread for dipping. Yet, none of the three actually bothered to eat at first. They were in fact too busy enjoying the sensations they were experiencing with the taste of the ale, its nutty flavor and clear-water malt delighting their senses more than they had anticipated.

"This is quite good," Ornendil said with a smack of his lips.

Nambaurato cast him an amused look. "Listen to the expert."

"Oh, I’ve had a pint or two in my time," Ornendil said with a sniff.

"Just remember what Olórin said," Nambaurato warned them. "The hröar of the Children are less capable of metabolizing alcohol than we Valar. So let us imbibe in moderation."

Telemnar gave a snort of disbelief at that. "You may drink in moderation if you wish, brother. I think I’ll order another pint." Indeed, in the short amount of time they had been sitting there, Telemnar’s tankard had emptied.

"We should try this food since we did order it," Nambaurato said, frowning.

"We will, we will," Ornendil said with a wave of his hand, "but first I agree with Tul... er.. Telemnar. It’s time for another pint." He waved his hand with more purpose and caught Eärmirë’s eye.

She came to them, looking a bit concerned. "Is aught amiss, my lords?" she asked properly.

"Nay, nay, my dear," Ornendil flashed her a bright smile. "We wish merely to order another pint of this excellent ale to go with our meal."

Eärmirë nodded, taking the two empty tankards and giving Nambaurato a meaningful glance. He shook his head. "I will hang on to this one for awhile," was all he said and she went away to fill the order.

"Spoilsport," Telemnar muttered.

Nambaurato just shook his head and took a bite of his pie, feeling his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as the most delicious sensation hit his palate. Then he tore off a piece of the bread and dipped it into the frumenty and nearly squealed with delight. Never had he tasted anything so delicious before. His companions looked on in amusement as he practically wolfed down the pie. He had to school himself to slow down when Eärmirë returned.

"Are you going to eat that?" he asked Ornendil, pointing to the ellon’s pie, as soon as Eärmirë had left them to their own devices again. Ornendil’s only response was to shove his trencher over to his friend while he drank deeply of his ale.

For a while the three ellyn sat in companionable silence, each enjoying the sensations of food or drink. Neither Ornendil nor Telemnar felt the need for food though the latter did try the frumenty. Nambaurato finished off Ornendil’s plate and was attacking Telemnar’s as if he hadn’t eaten in a yén. In the meantime the other two ordered a third round and encouraged their gluttonous friend to catch up, and he obliged by drinking his second tankard in nearly three gulps. He blinked a bit and reeled slightly as the ale hit his system, for not even the food he had consumed was enough to offset the rush that he felt as the alcohol coursed through his hröa.

"Easy now, little brother," Ornendil admonished gently, taking hold of Nambaurato’s arm. "Slow down. Remember, we need to maintain these shapes for the entire night and it’s still early yet."

Nambaurato nodded and took a deep centering breath. It was then that he began to pay attention to the conversations around him, which he had ignored in his feeding frenzy. Taking a hunk of bread and dipping it into the frumenty, he sat back and listened with interest to the conversation at the next table over where four Noldor were seated, clearly upset about something. It took him a moment to realize that Glorfindel and the Valar were the topic of conversation.

"...findel. Good riddance I say," one of the ellyn spouted, quaffing his tankard.

"He was an embarrassment, that’s for sure," one of his companions offered with a nod. "And the way the Valar practically tripped over themselves to pay him homage. Disgusting!"

"Lord Námo was the worst of them," the first ellon stated, giving an exaggerated shiver. "Why anyone would want to befriend him is beyond me."

"Well there’s no accounting for taste," a third ellon said with a grin, "and let’s face it, Lord Glorfindel’s taste in friends left much to be desired."

"Hah!" agreed the first Elf and then they all raised their tankards and toasted one another before downing their ales.

All this while, the three Elves at the other table sat there in stunned silence. Once, Nambaurato made to stand, his expression dark with fury, but his friends held him down. Telemnar pushed his own nearly full tankard in front of Nambaurato who took it without seeing it and downed half its contents in a single gulp while the other two just watched him with tipsy amusement.

Ornendil leaned over and whispered in Nambaurato’s ear. "Would’st thou like me to kill him for thee so thou canst have the pleasure of judging him?"

Telemnar actually giggled at that and both Nambaurato and Ornendil glared at him. Nambaurato turned back to Ornendil. "Why can’t I have the pleasure of killin’ and judgin’ him at the shame time. I could hold court ri’ here for everyone to shee... I mean, see." He blinked a couple of times, as if to clear his vision of something.

"Drink your drink," Telemnar ordered with a snort, signaling to Eärmirë to let her know they were ready for another round. She raised a delicate eyebrow but went to fill the order, stopping long enough to warn Carnifindo that there might be trouble brewing in the back corner. The innkeeper nodded his understanding but otherwise did not forbid the refills. As long as these three got drunk quietly it was all one to him.

Meanwhile, the ellyn at the next table over were completely oblivious to who was listening in on their conversation. Olórin bristled on behalf of both Lord Námo and Glorfindel at the slurs being hurled their way, but did nothing except keep a wary eye on his three charges. He frowned. Lord Námo was obviously drunk even if the Lord of Mandos didn’t realize it yet. Lord Oromë wasn’t too far behind him, though he seemed to be able to handle it better. Lord Tulkas though.... that Vala had gone suddenly quiet, too quiet for Olórin’s peace of mind, and he was wondering what it might portend when he realized he was no longer alone.

He looked around to find both Eönwë and Manveru there along with Maranwë, Roimendil and Ramandor — Lord Námo’s, Lord Oromë’s and Lord Tulkas’ chief Maiar, respectively. He gave them a quizzical look. "What is this?"

Maranwë grinned. "Lord Manwë felt it would be prudent if we... um... kept an eye on our respective lords."

Olórin snorted. "Lord Manwë or three Valier whose names I will not mention?" The others laughed good-naturedly. Olórin then turned to the other two Maiar. "And why are you two here? Does my Lord Manwë think me incapable of watching over these three?"

Manveru shook his head. "I was sent because the Elder King decided that he does not trust the mood of the Children given recent events and wishes to ensure that these three do not do anything to get themselves, or others, killed."

Maranwë snickered. "I wonder who would have to judge my lord if he ended up in his own Halls?"

Roimendil actually laughed. "I can see it now," he said, his aura turning violet with wicked amusement. "Lord Námo ends up having to judge himself."

Now they were all laughing. "But if he thinks I’m going to take over the establishment while he’s... er... sleeping," Maranwë retorted, "my lord is in for a rude awakening." That set them all laughing again.

Olórin turned to Eönwë once they calmed down a bit. "So are you here on Lord Manwë’s orders as well?"

The Herald of Manwë shook his head, bringing out his Book and a quill pen as he did so. "I’m here for entirely different reasons." He then seemed to ignore his fellow Maiar as he looked pointedly at the four ellyn sitting at the table next to the three Valar and the other Maiar respectfully fell silent, knowing that it would not do to interrupt this particular Maia performing his office.

"Oh, oh."

Olórin, whose attention had momentarily wandered as he listened to two ellith sitting near the fireplace singing a ballad about the creation of the Two Trees, turned his attention back when he heard Maranwë’s gasp.

"What is it?"

For an answer, Námo’s chief Maia only pointed. Olórin groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. "Melkor take them all," he muttered, ignoring the look of amusement Eönwë gave him, as the Oathkeeper made a note for an entry in an entirely different Book than the one he was writing in now.

Working on their fourth round of the heady ale, the three Valar were fast getting into a dark mood as the conversation at the next table continued. None of them cared for the remarks being made, especially Námo, whose shape was beginning to waver as drunkenness and fury made it hard for him to remember to maintain his disguise.

"... skin off our noses if the Valar want to sleep with the Reborn," the fourth ellon, who had remained silent up till then, was saying with a sneer. "They’re welcome to it...though I imagine they have to fight off their Maiar servants for the privilege." The other three ellyn laughed along with him and their laughter held no humor.

Five of the six Maiar were stunned into immobility at the Elf’s words. The sixth, Eönwë, never stopped to think, but suddenly the Book was gone and in his hands he held his sword. He was actually taking a swing at the hapless and unsupecting Elf when Manveru came out of his shock long enough to grab Eönwë’s arm.

"No! Are you insane?"

It was however, the wrong thing to do. The Maia’s sword was already in its downward swing and grabbing it as he did, Manveru merely deflected the sword so it cut through the rope holding up a tapestry hanging on the wall above the table. The tapestry ended up covering two of the ellyn who yelled in surprise, just as Tulkas was rising, having heard more than enough. The two ellyn under the tapestry also rose in an attempt to remove the enfolding cloth, but in their eagerness (and drunken state) to extricate themselves they only succeeded in tripping over each other... right into Tulkas, who ended up being knocked into Námo, who went flying back, hitting his head on the wood floor.

"Ouch! Hey! What’s Varda doing here?" he asked as stars began to dance in front of his eyes.

Meanwhile Oromë jumped up and grabbed the two ellyn still under the tapestry and began shaking them in fury, while their two friends looked on in horror. Tulkas gave a roar of anger tinged with disgust as he got to his feet and grabbed the two Elves Oromë was shaking right out of the other Vala’s hands.

"These two are mine," Tulkas snarled at Oromë. "Go find your own toys to play with."

"Hey! Leave our friends alone!" shouted one of the other Elves who had been making crude remarks about the Valar and Reborn.

"Stop them!" Olórin shouted to the other Maiar, though it was debatable just who he thought should be stopped.

Eönwë meanwhile was snarling at Manveru. "You idiot! I almost had the orc-sucking bugger!"

"And what would that have proved?" Manveru shouted back. "Now put that sword away and... oh for the love of Atar!"

The two Maiar looked to see Tulkas and Oromë fighting over the tapestry-entangled ellyn as if they were two elflings fighting over their favorite toys, while the other two Elves were attempting to beat on them but with little effect. Námo, in the mean time, had decided he was more interested in food than in fighting and had crawled along the floor until he was beneath the other table where he reached up to snatch at the bowl of frumenty the other ellyn had been enjoying and, not bothering with the bread, just dipped his hand into the gooey mess and began licking his fingers in obvious delight.

By this time the other patrons, and the innkeeper, were well aware of what was going on in the corner. There was cheering and jeering among the crowd while Carnifindo and his barkeep, Silmerossë, started to wade in to break up the fight before it got any worse. Except, for some reason, no one seemed able to approach the corner in question, for, unknown to the Elves, three of the invisible Maiar were blocking everyone’s way, if not their view.

Of Olórin there was no sign.

"All right, break it up now," Carnifindo demanded, still trying to reach the fighters, but to no avail, "or out you go and I won’t be having any of you back inside for at least a yén or three."

Things might have calmed down at that point but for an unfortunate accident — Námo started singing:

          "‘... And what, prithee, dost thou with this?’

          He asked the fruit-seller and she did reply,

          ‘Why, my lord, let me but show thee,

          for a turnip hath many a purpose

          besides the spicing of pie...’"

Manveru and Eönwë looked at each other in horror. "He’s singing verse thirty-one," the Herald of Manwë said unnecessarily.

"And off-key, too," Manveru retorted with a wince as Námo hit a particularly wrong note, causing several nearby Elves to clap their hands over their ears in pain.

Even as the Lord of Mandos made his merry if drunken way through the second stanza, he started to stretch out his legs, only to trip the Elf beating uselessly on Tulkas, causing the ellon to fall against a table and bringing everything down around him, including a candle that had graced its center. The glass lamp shattered into several shards and the candle, still lit, rolled to the edge of the tapestry which by now had fallen to the floor. Immediately, it burst into alcohol-soaked flames. People started shouting again, but now for entirely different reasons as other objects caught on fire. Panic ensued and there was a mad rush for the door.

"My inn!" Carnifindo screamed in horror and dismay as smoke began to fill the room.

Eönwë took command at that point, all anger at the stupid ellyn gone. "Get our lords out of here," he commanded Manveru, pointing to Tulkas and Oromë, "then see about putting this fire out. You three," he pointed to the three remaining Maiar, "make sure everyone is safely away. Roimendil, check upstairs."

Everyone did as they were bid. Manveru grabbed Tulkas and Oromë and simply thought them outside without even bothering to incarnate. When the fire broke out the two Valar had dropped their ‘toys’ and just stood there in a confused stupor as Elves ran hither and yon trying to escape the growing flames which were eagerly eating anything burnable. Now they were outside in the courtyard with no memory of having moved.

Eönwë, meanwhile, clad himself and stooped down to pick up a still singing Námo."Time to go, my lord," the Maia said through gritted teeth.

"‘...so she shoved the...Eönwë whash ya doin’... hic... here?"

"Saving your worthless butt, my lord," the Maia said with a straight face, wondering how far he could go.

Námo merely smiled. "Thash nice." The Vala looked around as Eönwë led him outside. "Where did ev’one go?" he asked in hurt confusion.

As far away from your singing as they can get, the Maia thought irrelevantly, but out loud he said, "We decided to move the party outside, my lord." By now he was more amused than anything. "The stars are particularly bright tonight."

"I know," Námo replied with a grin. "Varda wash here earlier."

They found themselves out in the courtyard with the others. The other Maiar had clad themselves and were attempting to put out the flames but they were not having much luck.

"We need more water," Maranwë called out.

"I’ll get it," Manveru answered and then they watched as he began to concentrate. Suddenly the skies seemed to open up as sheets of water fell out of nowhere onto the inn’s roof and kept pouring out of the sky until not only was the fire put out but everyone there was soaked to the skin and half the street was flooded.

"Where did all that water come from?" Eönwë demanded as he propped Námo up against a wall.

Manveru gave the Herald a cool stare. "The nearest large body of water," he answered.

"Lord Ulmo’s lake?" Ramandor asked in disbelief. "You stole the water from Lord Ulmo’s lake?"

"Like I had a choice?" Manveru snapped back.

Before anyone else could respond the entire square was lit with flashing lights as several Valar and Maiar appeared among them, led by none other than the Elder King himself with Olórin by his side. Every Elf there was on their knees. The five Maiar gave Manwë their obeisance. Even Oromë and Tulkas were not so drunk that they did not realize just how terribly wrong everything had gone and also bowed low to their liege, looking suitably chastened. Only Námo seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the situation.

"Hey! Manwë’s here!" he exclaimed to no one in particular. "Now the party can really begin. And where did tha’ frumenty get to?" At which point he very neatly slid down the wall into a puddle and promptly fell asleep.

****

They were back in Manwë and Varda’s mansion in Valmar. Three very bedraggled Valar still in elven forms stood in the center of the audience chamber while their fellow Valar sat in a semi-circle facing them. Vairë, Nessa and Vána were looking particularly displeased.

"My husband does not know what doom is until I get him home," Vairë muttered to no one in particular as she glared at Námo. "In fact, I think I will be constructing a new loom just for this."

The other two Valier nodded. "We’ll help," Nessa said with a grim smile.

"Nahar was most displeased to have to be fetched to bring Oromë home," Vána told them. "I made Oromë ride backwards," she shook her head, looking now more amused than angry. "He was so besotted, he kept falling forward so his face was in Nahar’s tail... kept complaining about the view." The other Valar snickered at that.

The six Maiar who had also been at the inn were there as well, with Maranwë, Roimendil and Ramandor propping up their respective lords. Of the three, Oromë looked the worst for wear, with a definite green cast about him. Tulkas appeared the least affected while Námo just kept yawning.

Manwë stared at them, his expression unreadable. Finally, he turned to Eönwë. "How much damage was done to the inn?"

"The damage was minor, my lord, but between the fire and the... um... water, the Laughing Vala will not be able to open for some time. Repairs will need to be made."

Manwë nodded, then turned to Manveru, who was looking rather sheepish. "Lord Ulmo was most upset to find half his lake missing."

Ulmo nodded where he sat on Manwë’s left but said nothing, his expression dark and stormy. Manveru actually cringed. "I am sorry, lords," he said, addressing both Valar, "but the circumstances..."

Manwë raised a hand to silence the Maia. "I have decided that while you and your brethren were not the cause of the disaster, nevertheless, you did not help matters. Lord Ulmo has therefore asked to be allowed to administer your... punishment."

Now all six Maiar cringed as Ulmo actually smiled. "I want my lake refilled," was all he said, then he gestured and six copper pails appeared on the floor before them. "You may use these to gather the snow off the Pelóri with which to fill the lake."

The Maiar stared at the pails in dismay. They were rather small pails. It would take a long time to refill the lake.

"As for you three," Manwë said, turning his attention to the three Valar. "You will be spending your time repairing the inn. Until the repairs are finished you will remain in elven form."

"I take it we lost the bet," Námo said, his words somewhat slurred as he yawned again, practically sleeping standing up.

Manwë merely stared at the Vala with an inscrutable expression. "You might say that," was his only response.

"Too bad," Oromë said faintly and then he turned a particularly sick shade of green and sank to the floor, heaving into one of the pails still sitting on the floor before them.

"That is so disgusting," Yavanna commented primly.

"Oh Atar I think I want to die," Oromë gasped between heaves.

Námo woke up at those words and cast his fellow Vala a dirty look. "If you do, I’ll make sure you never leave Mandos again. Melkor’s cell has been empty all these millennia... it’s looking rather lonely."

Tulkas giggled at that, while Námo gave another huge yawn and sank bonelessly to the floor next to the still heaving Oromë. Manwë just sighed, wondering to himself if Melkor wouldn’t mind some company in the Void.

****

One month later....

Námo hammered in the final nail, stepping back to eye his work, nodding in satisfaction. The last month had been the best and the worst time for him — the best, for he had begun to appreciate what it truly meant to be an Incarnate; the worst for the same reason. He sighed and looked over at Tulkas who was putting on a finishing polish to the last of the tables he had been constructing under Vánandur’s critical eye. All in all, the last month had not been as terrible as they had thought it might be. The stares from the Children had been rather disconcerting at first when Manwë had paraded the three Valar before the people of Eldamas and announced their punishment.

"In the meantime," the Elder King had told them all, "Carnifindo and his people will lack for nothing during the rebuilding of the inn. We Valar hold ourselves partly responsible for what happened and therefore we will see to the well-being of all those affected by the accident."

During their ‘indenture’, the two Valar insisted they be addressed by all by their elven names. Carnifindo tried to protest. "But we know who you are, lords," he said. "It would be rather difficult to forget ourselves that far."

"Try," was all Námo said and the Elves complied as best they could.

As it was, after the first few days, when Námo and Tulkas did not appear to be any stranger than the next Elf, they were left alone to get on with their work and people soon forgot they were even addressing two of the Valar. Oromë, however, was not with them, and no amount of begging got them answers as to what had happened to him.

"I believe Lady Vána asked the Elder King’s permission to administer her own brand of punishment upon her lord," was all Maranwë would tell them and they were forced to be content with that.

There were exceptions to the rule of having to remain in elven form at all times. Námo, in particular, would leave work occasionally to deal with those aspects of being the Lord of Mandos that could not be handled by his own People, but always he returned once those duties were done.

Now, the inn was ready to be reopened and this time tomorrow Námo would be able to cast off his elven form for good and become a Vala again. He was looking forward to that and knew Tulkas was as well.

"What do you think?" he asked and Tulkas looked up from his polishing to give the inn a critical eye.

"It’ll do," he grunted, returning to his polishing. The whole month, Tulkas never laughed. In fact, he never so much as smiled.

"I think I should rename the inn ‘The Frowning Vala’," Carnifindo muttered to his friend Vánandur at one point as they eyed the gloomy looking ellon fitting the pieces of wood together to form a table. Vánandur only smiled, knowing the innkeeper was not serious.

"Hey! You finished!"

Everyone turned around to see Ornendil standing there, smiling.

"Where have you been?" Námo asked, his eyes narrowing. "How did you get out of the punishment?"

"I didn’t, not really," Oromë answered, his expression becoming sheepish. "Vána decided I needed a good long run to work off my drunk."

"Oh?" Námo asked, quirking an eyebrow up in surprise. "Where did you go?"

"She made me run around the rings of Ashkadphelun," Oromë replied, using the Valarin word for the planet.

"For the whole month?" Tulkas demanded in disbelief.

Oromë shook his head. "That was just the beginning. After I did that a few thousand times, she made me run up and down Dáhanigwishtelgun a few hundred times."

The other two Valar and the two Elves who were there stared at Oromë with various degrees of surprise (Námo and Tulkas) and confusion (Carnifindo and Vánandur).

"Still wouldn’t take you a whole month, though," Námo said skeptically.

Oromë sighed. "It didn’t. It only took up... hmm... I think ten days altogether."

"So where have you been the rest of the time?" Carnifindo asked curiously. He had become used to addressing the two Valar who had worked under his supervision with the ease of speaking to any Elf and so addressed Oromë with the same degree of familiarity.

Oromë turned red, which was an interesting phenomenon in and of itself. "You know how Lord Ulmo decided our Maiar attendants should re-fill his lake?"

"Using very small copper pails," Námo said with a nod. "So Lord Ulmo gave you a pail and had you help them?"

Oromë shook his head. "Not exactly." He whipped something out from nowhere and held it up. In his hand was a copper spoon meant to fit the hands of a two-year-old elfling. "Do you know how long it took me to fill just one pail?" he asked them in disgust.

For a moment they stared at the Vala as the implications of what he had just said hit them. Then, low at first but steadily growing louder, Tulkas started laughing. Soon they were all joining him.

That night the Laughing Vala re-opened for business. The returning patrons were surprised to see Lords Námo, Oromë, and Tulkas there, still in their elven forms, acting as servers, though they quickly got into the spirit of things. Interestingly enough, there was no sign then or ever of the four ellyn who had started everything with their remarks about a certain Balrog-slayer and the Valar.

****

All words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Hröar: Plural of hröa: the body of an Incarnate.

Elenna: ‘Starwards’, a name of Númenor.

Otornor: Sworn brother.

Eärmirë: ‘Jewel of the Sea’.

Yén: Elvish century equal to 144 solar years.

Ramandor: ‘Shouter’.

Silmerossë: ‘Silver-mist’; a name for Telperion.

Ashkadphelun: (Valarin) Saturn, literally ‘Ring Dwelling’. The Elves would know the planet better as Lumbar.

Dáhanigwishtelgun: (Valarin) The name the Valar gave to what we know as Olympus Mons on Mars. They eventually gave the same name to the mountain the Elves know as Taniquetil.

Note: The names chosen by the Valar for their Elven personae are attested:

Nambaurato: ‘Hammerer of copper’; Quenya form of Damrod.

Ornendil: ‘Tree-friend’; taken from Appendix A.

Telemnar: ‘Silver-flame’; taken from Appendix A.

Telumehtar: ‘Swordsman of Heaven’; Orion.