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*Heads across to Lorien to check up on Nienor's progress.*

*Drops by the fountains after the meeting to take the waters.*

*embarks on his usual pre-twilight wanderabout* *pre-twilight meaning high noon, of course* *does a lot of wandering about, after all*

*spends some time checking over the gardens and quietly directing various Maiar and other spirits in their tasks* *weeds an entire (purple) strawberry patch in the meantime (with his feet)*

*afterward, manifests right into a gaggle of singing flytraps* *crouches down in their midst, completely unconcerned about the carnivorous plants all around, and has a spot of (cotton candy) tea (with just a smidge of Ocher for spice)* *shares the tea with the flytraps' roots, of course*

*does laundry* *scrub scrub scrub scrub scrub* *considers all of the shades of White*

*is an owl for a while, and Dreams some dreams far and wide*

*finally drops back to the earth, just as the Sun begins to sink beneath the horizon, and makes his way to a certain Air spirit's bower*

*sits crouched atop a smooth stone in the middle of the stream running through one of his gardens, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet*

*gazes down into the water, looking for all the world as though he's completely zoned out* *which, to be honest? he sort of is*

*is once again attempting to Fathom the Wishes of Fish, along with listening to those of the patients in the healing wards* *has some rather strange impressions which will have to be sorted out later, as a result* *don't worry, he does this all the time*

*occasionally gives a slow, heavy blink and taps all of his fingers (and both thumbs) against his knees in a precise order, as though plucking at invisible strings*

*or could just be tapping out the beat to a song floating through the dreamscape, who knows?*

*has been in labor forever six hours already*

*is fairly sure that's unnatural* *or if it isn't? it should be*

*is trying very, very hard not to panic* *has been assured that the birth is proceeding normally, the baby sounds healthy (and not monstrous), and that she'll be meeting her daughter soon*

*squeezes the nearest hand tightly as she rides out the strongest contraction yet, repeating the words like a mantra* She's my daughter, she's my daughter, I'll be meeting my daughter soon, oh OWW isitoveryet... X(

*Has what can only be described as "a situation."*

*PMs Manwë, completely unaware of the cosmic shit-storm in Ilmarin.*

Manawenûz? I know you're probably busy but we have a very serious problem. I need you in Lórien, Nienna too.

*comes to with a soft, pained gasp*

*blinks dully, realizing that for the first time in weeks, he's actually himself, in control of his body, with no foreign presence crushing him into the corner of his mind*

*makes a halfhearted attempt to move and discovers that he can't feel anything but a sharp, pulsing ache in his chest and a leaden chill everywhere else*

...

*closes his eyes and waits to die*

*starts awake*

*lays still for a few moments*

...

*abruptly starts trying to haul himself out of the bed, wincing at the pain in his bandaged side and splinted arm*

*has. to. get. UP.*

*Was enjoying a nice post-Manwëmas turkey sandwich when he got the news about Ingil.*

*Just knows the Vanyar are going to start panicking at any moment so organises some nice, blue skies, some pretty, fluffy clouds and generally labours the idea that all is good, all is well, there certainly isn't a wide-spread problem with fallen ainur stabbing people willy-nilly.*

*broadcasts to the rest of the pantheon* Is there a wide-spread problem with fallen ainur stabbing people, willy-nilly? Because if there is, I'd like to know about it.

And has anyone contacted Ingwë? Please tell me someone's contacted Ingwë or is muggins here going to have to do it?