Socks

This is to make up for yesterday xDDD
---

Manwë was not a happy Vala.

Now, one could think of a whole lot of adjectives to describe the Lord of the Breath of Arda, but 'unhappy' was not usually included in those lists. Those lists usually include holy, magnificent, merciful, great, kind, and good-singing-voice (of course, these lists were also usually made by the Vanyar). Manwë rather liked being praised. But not today. Today, he was unhappy.

He had woken up in the morning and did all his usual morning activities, and then noticed something. Lucky hat, check. Shirt, check. Pants, check. Shoes, check. Socks, uncheck, not that he could uncheck something that was never checked in the first place.

"Manwë, dear,  you look different today," said Varda Elentári, when he came down to breakfast that very morning. She looked him up and down, and frowned. "You're not wearing socks!"

"Yes," said Manwë, who wasn't pleased nor proud of this fact. "Indeed. Have you seen my socks, dear?"

"I saw several pairs yesterday," Varda replied. "Are you sure you don't have a single pair?"

Manwë shook his head. "Not one."

"Well, I'm sure Vairë could knit another pair for you, if you're lost them all."

"I haven't lost them!" protested Manwë.

"I'm sure Vairë could knit another pair for you, if you can't find any," Varda rephrased.

Manwë nodded, and went to find Vairë.

--

The Halls of Mandos were just as dark, dangerous and threatening as they were a few hundred years ago, when Manwë had last visited. He tried to avoid the place as much as possible, of course. The last time he had come was a curious case of a beautiful Elf who wanted to become mortal, which was strange. Something about her beloved husband, a wolf, and a Silmaril. (Manwë was really only paying attention to the Silmaril part of it).

The Valar pushed open the door and almost immediately crashed into an unfortunate fëa who was trying to escape.

"Ow!" said Manwë, who couldn't feel anything due to the fëa being...well, a fëa. He thought he'd better say 'ow' so that the fëa would feel better, as if he had a real body.

"Ow!" said the fëa, who had crashed right into Manwë and unfortunately couldn't go through due to the Vala being...well, a Vala.

"Are you alright?" asked Manwë kindly.

"I just crashed into the brother of the Vala who stole my most prized posessions," snapped the fëa, who was Fëanor. "Of course I'm not alright! Now, if you'd kindly move aside to show how sorry you are, I may forgive you for this act."

"Oh," said Manwë. "Well, have you seen my socks?"

"No, I have not seen your Eru-forsaken socks-- I mean, if you will move to the side and give me enough space to just squeeze through this door, I will be able to tell you where your socks are, O Holy Great Magnificent Merciful Kind Lord of Arda."

Manwë quite liked the sound of that title, so he shuffled aside to let Fëanor pass. But the fëa shot through as soon as there was enough space and flew off, cackling, into Valinor.

In an even worse mood than before, Manwë shut the door behind him and went to find Mandos.

--

"There is a problem, Mandos."

The Doomsman sighed. "Who has escaped now, Manwë?"

"Oh, actually." Manwë swallowed. He had just been about to tell Mandos about his socks, but he supposed that an escaped Fëanor was more of a problem. "It is Fëanor."

"How?"

"I, uh, opened the door and he escaped. Why couldn't he open the door by himself?"

"The door could only be opened by Vala."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well."

"Has someone else escaped with him? Curufin, perhaps?"

"Oh, no. It's just." Manwë wondered whether or not to tell Mandos about his socks. Perhaps he should just go ask Vairë directly. But he had no idea where she was.

"Manwë?"

"Mandos?"

"Why are you not wearing socks?"