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piosenniel · 11-30-2005, 02:56 AM

Feanor of the Peredhil's post

Alli stood moping in the back of the crowd gathered at Caer Pairadocks and glared moodily at all those who jostled her. It was not nearly late enough in the morning for this sort of thing, and the fact that she had been all but ordered to attend this... this... this ceremony, as it were... it boiled the blood in her veins. At least she wasn't at work, she thought with disgruntlement. The job of affixing wings to balrogs was a difficult one, trying to work in shadow, and the worst was, all balrog-wingers tended to get burned on a regular basis by the foolish beasts that refused to adopt the reality of the situation with grace. She grimaced at the raw blisters on her hands. They would heal quickly... if the mostly inept physicians that populated Mordor had one thing going for them, it was that they were excellent at treating burns. Suddenly the very flugellic sound of horns met Alli's ears.

It had to be horns, she thought. No hope for any creativity... She glared with renewed passion at the men that shoved past her to reach the front of the crowd. Suddenly there was a hush. An austere voice split the air like lightening, leaving the crowd tingling with anticipation. Even Alli perked up, morning though it was. A chance to get out of Mordor? she thought. An inconsiderate smoker lit up in front of her just as the wind decided to caress Alli's face. She forgot the ceremony as she choked, her eyes beginning to water. Gasping for breath, she was grabbed by a nearby nurse.

"On a scale of one to ten," the woman said, "how much does it hurt?"

Alli ignored her, stumbling her way through the crowd and away from the smoke that burned her lungs. Suddenly she realized that she was standing right beside a tall man, clad entirely in black. As she fell forward, catching herself just before she skinned her knees, the man turned to her with an aristocratic sneer. She gasped as she noticed the Anakronism Dweomer in his grasp. He turned from her, caring little for the antics of a girl barely into womanhood, and addressed the ATM before him. Alli whispered to the kindly looking old woman next to her.

"What are you in for?" she asked, curiously.

"Me? Well, my word. How that's any of your business, I'll never know." Alli looked incredulously at the easily offended woman and turned away from her, looking for an understanding face. She found one in the form of a very good looking young man. He seemed to be stifling laughter.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked as the ATM took an absurdly long time to continue its processing.

"Sure I am. Are you going to get offended?" he responded. She looked at him in momentary shock and then laughed. "I'll bet you're wondering what this whole ceremony is for."

"How did you know!?" she gasped.

"I'm am a Seer... in the distant future, I will be called "psychic". I tried to explain my foresight and was put here by the King's writ. But this..." he gestured toward the crowd, the man... the ATM. "There's been news. A certain number of Assignees are being given a chance to leave Mordor."

"Wha-" she began, suddenly remembering the voice that had reached even over the bustling crowd. "Oh, yes... I heard that part. How are they chosen?"

He responded with an ironic smile. "The ATM. The ATM handles all transactions in these parts."

"I should have known."

Suddenly the crowd went silent as the proverbial grave. The ATM had spat out a piece of paper. Anakron took it with his abnormally long fingers and glanced at it for a moment.

"The first member of the Offending Party is..." he began. Alli recognized the look in his eye. It was the look that never failed to accompany a mis-pronunciation of her name. She hoped and prayed, and then, remembering that hoping for proper speech had never worked before, merely prayed. She could not bring herself to be excited... she simply murmered over and over the right way... He continued finally. "Alumin--" Don't say it! she thought annoyedly. The letter is superfluous. It's not supposed to go there! You don't need to say it! "Alumìn-E Umfuìl." he finished at last.

"Alli!" she cried, stepping forward. "My name is Alli. If you can't say Alumine Umfoil properly, just," she now paused between words for effect, "say," she paused again, "Alli." Suddenly it struck her properly. "Wait..." she murmered, incredulous. "I can go home? I can see Enaichel play his games again? I can tell my parents that now that I've had a real job, I actually appreciate how well I had it before?"

Anakron looked at her with disdain. "If the ATM says it is true, then it is." He turned from her with a cold swish of his cloak as another name was expelled from the machine.

11-30-2005, 02:56 AM	#2
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Feanor of the Peredhil's post Alli stood moping in the back of the crowd gathered at Caer Pairadocks and glared moodily at all those who jostled her. It was not nearly late enough in the morning for this sort of thing, and the fact that she had been all but ordered to attend this... this... this ceremony, as it were... it boiled the blood in her veins. At least she wasn't at work, she thought with disgruntlement. The job of affixing wings to balrogs was a difficult one, trying to work in shadow, and the worst was, all balrog-wingers tended to get burned on a regular basis by the foolish beasts that refused to adopt the reality of the situation with grace. She grimaced at the raw blisters on her hands. They would heal quickly... if the mostly inept physicians that populated Mordor had one thing going for them, it was that they were excellent at treating burns. Suddenly the very flugellic sound of horns met Alli's ears. It had to be horns, she thought. No hope for any creativity... She glared with renewed passion at the men that shoved past her to reach the front of the crowd. Suddenly there was a hush. An austere voice split the air like lightening, leaving the crowd tingling with anticipation. Even Alli perked up, morning though it was. A chance to get out of Mordor? she thought. An inconsiderate smoker lit up in front of her just as the wind decided to caress Alli's face. She forgot the ceremony as she choked, her eyes beginning to water. Gasping for breath, she was grabbed by a nearby nurse. "On a scale of one to ten," the woman said, "how much does it hurt?" Alli ignored her, stumbling her way through the crowd and away from the smoke that burned her lungs. Suddenly she realized that she was standing right beside a tall man, clad entirely in black. As she fell forward, catching herself just before she skinned her knees, the man turned to her with an aristocratic sneer. She gasped as she noticed the Anakronism Dweomer in his grasp. He turned from her, caring little for the antics of a girl barely into womanhood, and addressed the ATM before him. Alli whispered to the kindly looking old woman next to her. "What are you in for?" she asked, curiously. "Me? Well, my word. How that's any of your business, I'll never know." Alli looked incredulously at the easily offended woman and turned away from her, looking for an understanding face. She found one in the form of a very good looking young man. He seemed to be stifling laughter. "Are you laughing at me?" she asked as the ATM took an absurdly long time to continue its processing. "Sure I am. Are you going to get offended?" he responded. She looked at him in momentary shock and then laughed. "I'll bet you're wondering what this whole ceremony is for." "How did you know!?" she gasped. "I'm am a Seer... in the distant future, I will be called "psychic". I tried to explain my foresight and was put here by the King's writ. But this..." he gestured toward the crowd, the man... the ATM. "There's been news. A certain number of Assignees are being given a chance to leave Mordor." "Wha-" she began, suddenly remembering the voice that had reached even over the bustling crowd. "Oh, yes... I heard that part. How are they chosen?" He responded with an ironic smile. "The ATM. The ATM handles all transactions in these parts." "I should have known." Suddenly the crowd went silent as the proverbial grave. The ATM had spat out a piece of paper. Anakron took it with his abnormally long fingers and glanced at it for a moment. "The first member of the Offending Party is..." he began. Alli recognized the look in his eye. It was the look that never failed to accompany a mis-pronunciation of her name. She hoped and prayed, and then, remembering that hoping for proper speech had never worked before, merely prayed. She could not bring herself to be excited... she simply murmered over and over the right way... He continued finally. "Alumin--" Don't say it! she thought annoyedly. The letter is superfluous. It's not supposed to go there! You don't need to say it! "Alumìn-E Umfuìl." he finished at last. "Alli!" she cried, stepping forward. "My name is Alli. If you can't say Alumine Umfoil properly, just," she now paused between words for effect, "say," she paused again, "Alli." Suddenly it struck her properly. "Wait..." she murmered, incredulous. "I can go home? I can see Enaichel play his games again? I can tell my parents that now that I've had a real job, I actually appreciate how well I had it before?" Anakron looked at her with disdain. "If the ATM says it is true, then it is." He turned from her with a cold swish of his cloak as another name was expelled from the machine.