Whatever You Say, Ace by Isilme_among_the_stars  

---

Six

---

Earlier, in Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom, the Valar had conferred…

“In case it has escaped your attention,” Ulmo began, rumbling in a voice that would very much not escape anyone’s attention, “our beloved exiles will soon find themselves in distinctly unpleasant and unfortunate circumstances.”

“They seem to be managing quite well in my view,” Tulkas piped up. Quite literally, as his voice sounded very much like the blaring of war horns, “The leaguer is holding nicely.”

“In case some of us need a refresher, since the singing of the music was so long ago, the dragons Melkor is hiding underground are almost full grown, his Balrog recruitment program was quite successful and the volcanoes are nearing their natural eruptive sensitive points,” Varda added helpfully. Tulkas nodded as if any of that made sense to him and shot a quick questioning look at Oromë.

“She means Morgoth will very shortly kick their arses,” he translated.

“I have enacted some fail-safes: prophecies, hidden fortresses and the like. However, these are really only stop-gap measures. They’re all vulnerable to the same old thing that got our dear children in this mess in the first place.”

A chorus of sighs and mutterings of “Noldorin pride” with much head shaking ensued.

“That old chestnut,” Manwë lamented. Nienna laid a consolatory hand on his shoulder.

“We need a better plan,” Ulmo declared.

“Must we intervene at all?” Námo questioned, “Why not just leave them to their fate?”

This earned him several variations on the theme of black looks. Námo turned his own black look pointedly upon Manwë.

“You all agreed to it! They will reap harvest of their violence, and we will shut our ears to their woes. It was a very impressive Doom.”

Manwë coughed into his hand, everyone was thinking it, he could tell… the eagle incident, “yes, well, perhaps that was somewhat harsh. A work around may be in order. What exactly are you proposing Ulmo?”

“Selective breeding.”

“Selective what?” Oromë sounded outraged, “you mean to pair them off like beasts and make them go at it like rabbits until we end up with one with a temperament that we like?”

“It need not be quite that vulgar dear,” Vána pacified, “I could work a little match-making magic.”

Ulmo’s voice drowned their conversation like the great wave that would at some time in the future put an end to Númenor.

“I had thought we could consult someone a little more experienced in the matter.” Ulmo turned his gaze toward Aulë and Yavanna, “You have some experience in the field of genetics, both of you, have you not?”

“Yes, genetics are our specialty. The Khazâd project was quite successful, if I do say so myself,” Aulë’s voice rang with self-congratulation.

“And some of us still wonder where the pride came from,” Námo muttered.

Manwë pointedly ignored him, “I trust you have a more elegant solution than a breeding program?”

“Oh yes,” Yavanna piped up, “we’ve been experimenting with new techniques in genetic splicing-”

“Just to be clear, this is a technique that is suitable for Eldar, not only plants?” Manwë cut her off before Yavanna could settle in for a lengthy monologue. There was a reason that Ent-speech was horrendously, ponderously prolonged. Yavanna seemed not to notice and indeed continued to mutter a string of jargony sounding words.

“Yes, of course,” Aulë spoke over her, quite used to his wife’s quirks. There was a reason he’d taken up forge work. Her infodumps did not tend to follow him there, and should they chance to, the ringing of hammers quite drowned them out.

Manwë nodded and rubbed his hands together with pleasure, “Very good! It is settled then. We shall now come up with a list of desired traits together and then you may get to work.”

“There is only one, very small complication,” Aulë looked as if he would like to hide behind his furnace if he could, “I have never actually done pregnancy before.”

“What? You can’t be serious!” Námo looked very unimpressed.

“He is,” Ulmo’s laugh was terrible, like the shrieking of ship timbers and rigging straining in a storm, “He made seven dudes! His Naucor were all men! Only men! It’s a good job Eru intervened when he did!”

Ulmo did not look like he was going to stop laughing anytime soon. Aulë coughed. Varda gave Ulmo a stern look.

“Female Naucor may have been an afterthought,” she began.

“Khazâd,” Aulë corrected under his breath.

Varda turned her withering look upon Aulë. He looked appropriately chastised.

“Entwives, however, existed from the very beginning of their species. You can handle the mechanics, can’t you Yavanna dear?” Varda asked sweetly.

“Don’t insult me, of course I can,” Yavanna glared at her with an air of superiority.

“That’s settled then, Aulë and Yavanna will see to it,” Manwë concluded, “Now onto that list of desired traits…”

That was an altogether lengthier and more unruly conversation…

---

Chapter End Notes

In case anyone was concerned about Aulë's reaction to Yavanna's infodumps. He is being a bit of an ass, but he loves her really. This is really not intended to be a dig at infodumping, which is a perfectly valid form of neurodivergent communication.