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Wilhelmina had set off straight away in what seemed to be a likely direction. In her opinion, it was always better to be going somewhere -- anywhere -- than to be standing still. But in this place, it seemed that everyone was in a rush, and one had to move quickly or risk being run over by the myriad of speeding cars and their nasty drivers. She purposefully hurried along the dirty, chewing gum-spattered sidewalk, wondering how exactly she was supposed to find her way to Edge-where. During her time spent in Mordor, she'd only been to Lūndūn once or twice times, and knew nothing about the city's layout. She found the place wholly distasteful, quite frankly. 'Disgusting,' she thought as an orc spat on the ground not a foot away from her. She moved away from him and found a little alcove where she could get out of the rush of people.
Examining the map, she realized how ridiculously unhelpful it was. Firstly, the city was very crowded, and the tall buildings leaned in on the streets like stuffy bureaucrats. That plus the amount of smog in the air made it next to impossible to even judge direction by the sun. Wilhelmina shook her head in frustration. What good was a map if you couldn't tell North from South? She turned the map around a few times and then craned her neck in search of a street sign. Her hat teetered dangerously on her head, but the small squeak of distress that came from inside it was completely lost in the din of the traffic. All she could see, though, were a couple of lonely-looking poles -- apparently the nearby signs had all been stolen.
"Honestly!" she complained. "Civilization, they say? Ha!" She scanned the sky again and decided that the hazy circle of light behind the smog had to be the sun, however pitiful it appeared. "Alright... it's still morning, so that'll be East." She aligned her map in accordance and stepped back into the street, vowing to give anyone else who spat on the ground near her a smart whack with her walking stick.
She hadn't even gotten to the corner when she felt a tap on her arm. Turning about (and looking slightly downward) she saw that it was the Dwarf. "Oh, hello," she said. "Where did you come from?"
"I've been shouting your name, but you didn't hear," he said. "Do you know where everyone is?"
"No," Wilhelmina told him. "But no matter. I didn't like the look of the others very much. That Panakeia's nothing but a scamming charlatan. And that man looked too mopey, like one of those emo kids... what was his name? Waldo, or something like that..."
The dwarf was about to reply, but they were both distracted by the sheer garishness of the yellow van that pulled up next to them. Blimmin' Barblecashing Corpulation? What in Middle-earth was that?
Before she knew what was happening, a man was shoving an ice-cream-cone-shaped object in her face and asking for her name. "Wilhelmina Brochenbach," she said with some confusion. "What's it to you?"
"You're on our show," the man hissed, showing off his bad teeth.
"A show? I don't have time to be on any kind of reality show! I have somewhere to be!"
"Of course you've got somewhere to be -- on top! You're going to be a star," enthused the host.
"You get away from me, and take that stupid thing out of my face," she ordered in what she hoped was a menacing tone.
"Sorry, deary, but we've a contract from the guv'ment saying that we have the right to film you." He held up a piece of paper which bore the seal of none but Anakron himself. Wilhelmina made a mental note to give him a piece of her mind when next she saw him. But as the man led her away, she began to wonder if that would even happen.
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