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*Thinks it's high time that Ilmarin had a proper, full blown family dinner (now that the fall-out from Suraya's disappearance has settled a little.*

*Soon has the sylphs running around like mad things getting the dining room ready.*

*Sends out a cheerful telepathic summons to his nearest and dearest, telling them that dinner will be served imminently.*

*Invites Ulmo for good measure (Just isn't fully convinced that he gets fed properly down there in Ulmonan).*

*Mulls over his conversation with Finrod.*

*Can feel the familiar sensations of guilt, anger and frustration starting to bubble under again.*

*Comes to the conclusion that he's in dire need of a distraction.*

*High-tails it out of Aman.*

Mockingbird?

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

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

*Gets a letter delivered by a sylph.*

*Frowns in confusion when she notices that it has her father's seal on it.*

*Mutters as she opens it.* You're just down the hall, dad...

Dear Erinti, greetings from the High King of blah blah blah, Ring of Doom meeting on blah blah, you are cordially invited to attend..."cordially." That means I'm not in trouble.

*Gasps*

*Jumps up and paces back and forth.*

*Manifests to Ulmonan.*

*Returns to Ilmarin having failed to receive any word of Suraya or Arien.*

*Heads up to the war room to see if they've had any luck through other channels.*

*Takes the glum faces gathered around as an emphatic "no."*

*goes outside to let Suraya know that it is way past her bedtime*

*sees absolutely no sign of her*

*does a quick tour of all her likely hiding places (her room, Talwë's room, the Meadows, Aulë's forge, Lórien (where the peacocks are) before manifesting in Ilmarin*

*with a very cold fury radiating from his Music, suppressing any panic he might feel at this moment* Suraya has disappeared. Suraya has disappeared.

*Pretties herself up for dinner at Nimrodel's.*

*Pretties and pretties and pretties.*

*Abandons the initial prettying up endeavour after the results were unsatisfactory and starts all over again.*

*Swithers and sways over which dress to wear.* :?

*takes a walk with a fed and napped (and therefore content) Laurëanna in her arms, singing softly as she goes*

*makes her way through the by-now oft-traveled corridors and visits her favorite courtyard, gravitating to the fountain as usual*

*takes a seat on the ledge and rearranges her skirts before settling her daughter in her lap*

*gazes into the water for a while, absently keeping 'Anna entertained with her shiny little rattler*

*slowly comes to a decision*

*Realises he just cannot lone-wolf this dinner ordeal invite.*

*Manifests to Ilmarin clutching the invite and goes in search of the most likely candidate for his plus one/moral support.*

*Stops at the bottom the central stairwell and listens.*

*Makes out the sound of singing echoing down and heads towards it.*

*is fussing with her hair one morning, trying (for the eight hundredth time) to decide how she wants to wear it for the wedding* *up? down? curly? straight? veil? flowers? up and curly and veil and flowers? or is that too much?*

*finds herself wondering how Amroth would want her to wear it* *thinks she might ask his mother for ideas* :)

*from there, lets her mind wander to the seating arrangements--bride's side and groom's side? or just let everyone mingle?*

...

*GASP!*

Amroth! Baby! We have a big, big problem!

*Sits in Lorien, close enough to keep an eye on Nienor but far enough away to let her have her privacy.*

*Keeps his trident close to hand just in case.*

*Dangles a foot in Lorellin to keep an ear to the ground water as well.*

*Paces around the throne-room.*

Okay, people? What's going on, you're making so much noise I can't hear a damn thing and there is no WAY Isil should be that low, do you need some eagles? Couple dozen eagles with some lines, they can help tow it. Do you need some eagles?

I'm sending eagles.

*has had an okay day, on the whole* *met Sauron's youngest daughter, who is quite intriguing, to say the least* *thinks He may just have to keep closer tabs on that one* >:)

*returns to Angband just in time to get out of the fucking storm* >:/

*hustles down to the depths of the place, already nursing a headache at all of the noise* For fuck's sake, can't just whip up a regular storm, oh no, they had to make it as LOUD and OBNOXIOUS as possible...

*gets a little suspicious as the storm drags on with no appreciable letup in the tumult* *pops a few Vala-strength aspirin and casts His senses out wide, gritting His teeth at the harmonic clamor*

*picks out an odd set of anomalies in the Music* *narrows His eyes and focuses*

. . . SONOFABITCH. >:|

*immediately summons a flock of corrupted spirits of Air to Himself* Right, you lot. Isil. Get there. Make screaming nuisances of yourselves. I've a smaller fish to fry. Go.

*Hears things going reasonably well up on Isil.*

*Turns to Nienor.*

Nienor? We're taking a little trip, okay? After we're done, the noise won't bother you any more. How does that sound?

*prior to the next stage in the re-Nienorification of Niënor, summons the interested parties to Ilmarin, whether they are physically present or not*

*addresses the gathered assembly and the more distant celestial bodies* The plan is as follows. Sir, Lord Ulmo, I require cloud cover and plenty of it. Arien, I need you to pile on the heat during the day so that a thunderstorm will not be unexpected. When night falls, my Lady Mother and my sister, together with Ardamírë and Ingil are going to provide the brightest starlight they can. I want glare and I want sound and I want a wall of Music between the ground and Isil. I want the brightest and loudest thunderstorm these skies have seen. I want the enemy to have to shield his eyes and cover his ears.

*Is resolutely unimpressed.*

*Heads towards the living room.*

Herald? Would you be so kind as to inform Arien that myself, the Lord of Waters and the Lord of Song will be in conference for...

*Uncovers a tv seeing stone and calls up the latest episode of CSI: Lothorien.*

...an hour, at least. No, wait, forty-five minutes. I TiVo'ed this. No commercials, ha!

Tell her she's welcome to wait in one of the drawing rooms, and that she's free to avail herself of refreshments. Once you've done that, inform my daughter that I'd like to see her. Tell her to bring nachos too.

*Gets a PM from Boss-boss that he wants him in Ilmarin to discuss security arrangements for Erinti's next deliberate Musical fuck-up session.*

*Sleeps restlessly until he gets a mental wake-up from Falathar, telling him that it's misty where he is, it's quite warm so it's probably only a haar, and that he finished the last chapter of the book he was reading and it was a bit of a cop-out, given how the main character managed to survive a five storey fall by hanging on by his pinky.*

*Makes his way up by Eagle express and avails himself of the ever-available and high quality tea while he waits.*

*Needs to think and think he does.*

*Paces around his throne room until it gets dark.*

*Leans on a balcony and stares up at the sky.*

*Cocks his head to the side as he watches Isil rise for the night.*

Tilion? Can I have a word?

*loiters around outside Manwë's throne room, keeping an ear open to everything that's been said*

*grows more and more thunderous as he listens to Erinti*

*Manifests back into Ulmonan.*

*Doesn't quite get his footing when he reappeares after his mid-air disembodiment trick.*

*Falls over backwards.*