'The way is shut.'
'Huh?' Nilpaurion said.
'The way is shut. It was not made for those who are mentally diseased.'
'Who are you?' he asked while looking all around the gateway, fearing that his alter-egos were playing some trick on him.
Out of the foggy air in front of the gate materialised a grim-looking spirit. He grinned creepily, revealing a row of decaying teeth.
'I am Mandos, gatekeeper of Mandos. The way is shut.'
'But . . . but . . .' he stammered, wondering how someone could be a gatekeeper of himself, or how a gate could keep itself. He dismissed the irrelevant thought, and tried to find a loophole. 'Wait, what about Fëanor?'
'He's really not here. He's in a Happy Farm at the feet of the Yellow Mountains.'
'There's a Yellow Mountains?'
'Why, yes, there is. There are Rainbow Mountains even.'
'Oh.' Nilpaurion was clearly baffled. 'But I'm cured already! See, no more alter-egos!'
'
Liar.'
'Oh, dear.'
'See?'
'Don't I get another opinion?'
'Okay then . . .'
Moments later, Nilpaurion found himself in Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom. Around him were seated the Aratar, the eight Valar that really held power in Arda. Why they were needed when there was a more powerful deity--after all, he created Arda and everything in it--was beyond him. Well, there was that theory that Eru was a Warg (or a llama), and could not rule over humanoid life-forms.
Hmph, specieists. Such people should be sent to Mordor.
'You asked for another opinion, right?' Mandos said. 'Well, you'll have seven of them.'
'What's with that crazy "Lynch me!" campaign?' asked Manwë. 'There's something wrong with your head, boy.'
'And he has that Lhunatic for a sister,' Varda added.
'Absolutely crazy,' said Aule.
'Stark-raving bonkers,' agreed Yavanna.
'Madman,' pronounced Ulmo.
'Mad Elf,' Oromë corrected.
Another specieist, Nilp snorted.
'Boo hoo hoo! . . . Uh, what?' Nienna said. Now
she's crazy.
'That's six votes. That's enough. You need to bring your torch,' Mandos said with the formality of a
reality show host.
'What? But what about my TV shooooooooooooooooooo . . .'
. . .
Nilpaurion woke up. He was lying on something soft and comfortable. It was too bright here--wherever 'here' was--, and he found himself blinking as his eyes tried to adjust to the light.
'Welcome, Nilpaurion,' a strange voice said. He suddenly thought of men clad in strange black suits with wide foreheads and huge black eyes, doing impossible hand-to-hand fights. He angrily shook the thought off.
'Welcome to Dol Gaurgaurhoth.' Nilpaurion's eyes had fully adjusted, and he saw Anakron standing over him. 'Where have you been?'
'It's a long story,' Nilpaurion said diffidently.
'I'm already bored,' the
Dweomer replied.
'Hey, get off my back, 'less you wanna bleed to death,' a creepy voice said from behind him--
What? But he was in bed! Who could be behind him? That creepy voice . . . He slowly rose from where he was lying and turned to see Adam Smith, or at least half of him, attached to his hips like they were
Siamese twins.
Well, this is interesting . . .
'And watcha lookin' at? If my arms could reach you I'd've throttled you by now,' said Adam unitalicisedly.
'I see, still insane as ever. Now, on to the game,' Anakron said as he sat back on his
lazyboy.
Hmmm . . . If his first lynching has separated part of Adam from his body, then surely killing himself again would remove the obnoxious alter-ego completely.
But the villagers would now surely know that he's innocent.
I need a new plan for this . . .
Wait, where's Alice and Emily?
~*~
Meanwhile, back in the ruins of
MoUnT dOoM . . . errr . . .
Mount Doom Casino and Resort, Alice and Emily were standing over the rubble, watching the tortuous lava flows surround them. They held hands as the molten rock slowly crawled its way up the hill where they had taken refuge.
'I love you,' said Emily.
Alice nodded. 'I'm glad that Fléin guy's not here to see us . . .'
~*~
A few minutes of re-acquainting himself with the village led him to discover that everyone had been questioning the veracity of the game. It seemed that the ModeVayor has failed to assign the roles, and that Dol Gaurgaurhoth was a hoax.
But the most important thing that he had heard was . . . nobody has voted yet. The DAY may be ending soon.
This is his chance. A life free of strange voices inside his head.
He takes it: 'I vote for
++Nilpaurion Felagund
again.'