Manwë's Birthday Party by Dawn Felagund, Tarion Anarore, , Rhapsody, , oshun, , Isil Elensar, , pandemonium_213, , Beatrisu

Yavanna Brings the Moonshine, by Dawn Felagund

With apologies to canatics ... okay, not really.

Manwë was flummoxed. So far, his living room was crowded primarily with kinslayers with the exception of a (very pretty) Avarin prince; a rather flashy-yet-nonetheless-bookish Maia, and a pack of cats. And Fingon. Make that primarily kinslayers, two (very pretty) Quendian princes; a rather flashy-yet-nonetheless-bookish Maia, and a pack of cats. Who, he saw with dismay, had gotten into Varda's crab dip and had torn the streamers Varda had Scotch-taped to the ceiling to shreds.

To make matters worse, not a single Vala was yet in attendance, except for Varda, who had not only married him but had organized the party and therefore--on two counts--had zero choice in the matter. Manwë wrung his hands. He'd long suspected his declining popularity among his minions employees colleagues, especially after getting rid of casual Fridays and using WebSense to lock down the Department of Elvish Customs and Border Protection computers from accessing any sites originating from Wetwang*.

* Which was primarily porn sites, but according to his disgruntled minions employees colleagues, suddenly everyone's webhost or web-based email came from servers in Wetwang.

But, Manwë thought, that was neither here nor there. He would have thought the other Valar would at least possess the dignity to attend the birthday celebration of the King of All of Arda and the Official Head of Eru Ilúvatar's Breakdown Crew.

Then, from the door area, arose a cacophony that nearly made him wish for the repair of the forsaken doorchime, and a slew of curses erupted in Valarin: "DizznawbitvazamakaboomazzzzzivifuhC--" and all the Elves clapped their hands over their ears and whined, "Aaaiii …"

"Which in Valarin," said Olórin, "translates to, 'Oh. What the f--' "

"Yavanna! You came!" Varda squealed as she sauntered into the room. She planted a kiss on each of Yavanna's (very dirty) cheeks and seemed not to mind that Yavanna's overalls (worn braless and barefoot, Manwë noticed … with dismay, of course) looked like they hadn't been washed since the Third Age.

Somehow, Yavanna had not only tripped over the threshold but had brought the entire doorframe and some of the decorative bricks Aulë had recently installed on the façade of the house down around her. Rumor went that Yavanna had wanted Nessa's position as the dancing queen but was far too klutzy and had been assigned to plants instead. Since then, she hadn't been much for personal hygiene.

"Well, happy birthday and all that," she mumbled as she passed Manwë and shoved something into his hands that revealed itself to be a Venus flytrapper. That immediately latched onto his finger.

"Ouch!" he shouted.

"Which in Valarin," quoth Olórin, "translates to, 'Ai!' "

"May I interest you," Varda was saying to Yavanna, "in a fruit punch or a Sprite or a--"

"To the Void with that!" said Yavanna, and she began to rummage in the voluminous pockets of her overalls. "I've been brewing this out back Aulë's shop with the corn my Yavannildi have left over and it is some strong sh--"

"Great!" Manwë chirped nervously as Yavanna brandished a Mason jar full of a clear substance that smelled (even with the cap on) like it might ignite at any second. "Then let the party begin!"