Assigned to Mordor RPG

[the guy who be short]

Fléin's talk with Wilhelmina had left him feeling better, but not by much. He still felt unable to trust her - the vote for Spiced Ham remained as mysterious as ever. He'd ended up not voicing his idea that perhaps, just perhaps, there were no werewolves. The zero and the assuming too much pointed to it, but... who else could be killing all these people in the night? Even he didn't believe it anymore. So he just made something up about the werewolves actually being kamuraorcs - they still hadn't left the offending party, and were filming everything for T.V. Wilhelmina had responded by setting Mr Swanky upon the nearest one before Anakron himself intervened. In the ruckus, Fléin had slipped off, uncomfortable around her presence.

Later, Panakeia going a little nutty had confused him further. One other villager, at least, was thinking along similar lines to him. But oh, how they laughed at her! He wouldn't bring that upon himself, that was for sure. He suppressed the thought further still.

So he had fallen back upon plan two. Gathering the entire village, he had forced everybody to take a seat once more for a formal accusation.

"My fellow villagers," he started a little hesitantly, but gathered stength as he continued. "My fellow innocent villagers, I believe I have some evidence that may be important - though, there's not much evidence. But I have seen - things. Disturbing things. Things that lead me to doubt the purity of some persons in our village, that lead me to doubt their honest intentions."

"I will cut to the chase. Sai and Alli are lesbians."

There was a shocked silence as all eyed turned to the girls, sat next to one another. Sai jumped out of her chair. "But this is preposterous! It's nonsense! We're not lesbians!" she said loudly. The reaction from the village was mixed. Some started laughing at Fléin, causing him to redden a little, but a few faces turned questioningly to the girls.

Mardil stood up and walked over to Alli. "Are you absolutely sure, Alli?" he asked, clearly disappointed. "I mean, look at her legs!" he said, causing Sai to scowl at him.

"Actually," Alli responded, commanding silence from the murmuring circle, "Sai can speak for herself. I am a lesbian."

There were gasps all around. "But Alli!" Aimé cried, "I thought you loved - somebody," he finished lamely.

"Aimé, the world isn't all in black and white. There are many shades of gay." And then - only Fléin was at the right angle, standing as he was, to see it - Alli wink at Aimé. What was she playing at? "And if you must know, I've taken rather a fancy to Wilhelmina."

[Kath]

Sai had been angry at Fléin's condmenation of her and Alli, but not because he had assumed that they were lesbians, because he had assumed that all lesbians were evil and therefore ought to be lynched! Just the type of comment to come from a small minded chauvinist. She wondered whether she ought to tell him that dear old Freud would have told him that being scared of lesbians meant that he was insecure due to over or under stimulation in the oral phase of life as an infant, but feared that bringing such things into the conversation might cause even more difficulties.

Then she heard Alli proclaiming that she was a lesbian, and had to stifle a snort of laughter. She didn't know where the girl was going with this but wasn't about to interfere with what was clearly a new plan until she knew what going on. She saw Fléin gearing up for another attack but Alli's comment about having developed a liking for Wilhelmina seemed to bring the Dwarf up short.

She was most concerned though about the events of that morning, when they had been told (via various not so subtle subliminal messages) that there were in fact no werewolves. This information had been rattling round in her head all day but she wasn't sure what to do with it. Ignoring the growing tension around her she tried to think what it could mean. She murmured quietly to herself.

"Perhaps, if there are no wolves . . . well if there are no wolves lynching people is no use, so what happens if we don't kill anyone today? Would this 'game' end?"

"I don't know." Came Alli's voice from her right making her jump. "Where's that nasty little creep Anakron got to - maybe he can answer that."

[Celuien]

"What happened to you?" Valde queried. He extended a hand to help Panakeia to her feet.

The hand eagerly accepted, she stood and brushed the dust off her dress. "I'm not sure," came the doubtful reply. So far, she felt like her usual self. That is, if her usual self had been accustomed to places like Dol Gaurgauroth. At least she didn't seem to feel the effects of that nagging voice. Not yet.

SPaM thrust the bottle of tequila toward her. "Here. Drink thiths." To her surprise, Panakeia accepted. A few dainty sips later, she gratefully returned the bottle and sat down, her head in her hands.

SPaM smiled. "Strong sthuff?"

"Yes. No. I was just thinking." She looked around the village. "I know I was acting a bit off earlier. But I stand by what I said before. I don't think this place is real. Nothing makes sense."

"But sthill, Panakeia. Sthink of what you're suggthesthing. A colleshtive delushion?"

"I wouldn't put anything past that Anakron," she snapped. "Well, maybe one or two things. For one, I don't think he's a murderer. And if there aren't any wolves here, who else is left for the nighttime destruction? Just Anakron and his minions. But if this is all a dream of some sort, there haven't been any real deaths." Panakeia faltered for a moment, thinking over the past two sets of lynchings. "And I don't think he'd make killers out of us. Because, let's face it, if this is real, that's exactly what we all are."

Valde spoke up. "Maybe that is what he wants."

Panakeia shook her head. "No, there's something else. Elempí. He was harmless, nice even. And he's part of Anakron. I can't believe that Elempí could be Anakron if Anakron truly were that brutal. That's why I want to test my theory and vote for myself today."

"But suppose you're wrong. Then you die. Curtain down. Finis."

"I know. But if this is real, I don't know if I want to go on with blood on my hands."

"Don't do it. You can't afford to take the chance." With a shake of the head, SPaM concurred.

Panakeia mulled it over for a minute or two. "Alright. But I won't risk anyone else's life either. I refuse to vote." She raised her voice and stood tall. "Do you hear me, Anakron? I won't do it! It's not right!" Then, feeling a bit dizzy, she sat down.

And the voice in her head began to speak. Good for you. Didn't I tell you we make quite a team?

"Oh, shut up."

"Who, me?" Valde looked surprised.

"What? I'm sorry. Nevermind. Forget it."

You may be here to stay, but there are going to be some adjustments. We can't go soft all the time. Understand?

Of course. Now about that sample case of yours...

Panakeia groaned internally. This was not going to be easy.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli stepped forward with a big smile. Mardil's reaction had been fantastic, but everybody else's were equally classic. Wilhelmina had a truly odd look on her face after Alli's revelation. Aimè was wondering just what she was playing at... Alli hadn't informed him of this little extra. Sai looked as though she were trying to suppress laughter. Anakron was nowhere to be seen.

"Yes... I've taken a fancy to Wilhelmina, or as I like to think of her, Minnie." Sai's eyes were watering at the effort of not smiling.

"Minnie... I know that... well... I'm not the perfect specimen... After all, my waist is too thin, my legs are too long, my bosom is too ample, and my skin is just too flawless... but would you... would it be too much to ask for you to consider... to consider something?" Alli winked at Wilhelmina who seemed to be in shock. Flein was about to fall over, though he'd seen the wink. Did he have competition? Sai tried to hide her grin with a sudden spurt of fake coughs.

Mardil simply looked bemused now.

[Encaitare]

"Minnie... I know that... well... I'm not the perfect specimen," Alli said. "After all, my waist is too thin, my legs are too long, my bosom is too ample, and my skin is just too flawless... but would you... would it be too much to ask for you to consider... to consider something?"

Wilhelmina's initial shock turned to amusement as she caught Alli's wink. She decided to play along:

"My dear, you're very lovely, but I'm afraid I'm just too old for you," she said kindly. "I could very well be your grandmother -- how could we ever be together? I'm sorry."

She admired the way Alli faked holding back tears. "I understand," she said, putting on a brave face and smiling weakly at all of them. "I think I'd like to be alone right now."

They watched her run off towards her tent. Some sat in awkward silence; others, who had gotten the joke, were chuckling to themselves. And Fléin? He had at first looked disgusted, but was that jealousy she now detected on his face?

[the guy who be short]

Fléin had left the circle, desirous of solitude. He had found a small clearing not too deep in the nearby forest, and sat himself upon a stump. It was a pleasant space, next to a small but clear stream, and grass was growing here. The situation was just too confusing.

Panakeia stuck to her beliefs about the situation not being real. And Fléin couldn't help but concur - though he didn't think it was a collective hallucination. And there was something soft about that Panakeia, despite her razorlike exterior. She underestimated all of them. He was certain that Mardil could kill without a second thought. No, actually, the lad was smart. With a second thought, but without much remorse. He knew that he could kill. And if Anakron was too soft to kill, then he was a possum.

But there was something surreal going on. The hints were there - no wolves. And how could they kill so many fangirls anyway? Panakeia had a point there. No, Anakron was up to something. But he didn't know what. And what would happen if nobody voted?

And on top of all this, there was his love life, if such it could be called. Wilhelmina... sigh. It was too confusing, just too confusing.

Deep in thought, he didn't notice the small beaver that had climbed up the nearest bank until it nudged his foot.

He looked down at it. It looked up at him. And then, to his amazement, it talked.

"Athtlam iththun thvoob" it hissed up at him, or so it seemed. He looked down in puzzlement.

"Sorry?"

Once more, a similar reply. Fléin frowned. "A man is on the roof? What man? There is no roof here. Do you mean the village?"

The beaver hit its forehead with its paw, clearly exasperated. He had apparently misunderstood.

"Thath Sllam ith inn a roove!"

"That SPaM is in a groove? No, you're mistaken there, he's not quite buried yet."

The beaver attempted to get the message across once more, this time accompanied with frantic waving of the forelimbs.

"A flan is never good? Of course it is, you idiot. Oh, I don't have time for this, I need to think." He stood up and unbuckled his axe from his back. The beaver backed away, spittling all the while.

--------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps only thirty seconds after he had sat down, Alli rushed into the clearing at the opposite end.

"Fléin!" she panted. "Urgent... message... from Illamatar... says... trust the beaver!" By now she was opposite him, and catching her breath. "Urgent message. Trust the beaver."

She looked down, puzzled at the apparently squishy consistency of the ground, to find her foot in half of a perfectly sliced beaver. "Oh, buggrit!" she swore. "Eww," she added as an afterthought, cleaning her foot on the grass nearby.

Fléin watched the act, emotionless. "Did you say the message was from Illamatar?" he demanded.

Alli mumbled, Fléin thought in response at first, before realising she was talking to thin air. He caught odd phrases such as "Don't think it wise to tell him" and "Might think I'm" and "Idiot thought I was a lesbian."

Once this was done, she swivelled around to face him. "Yes, the message is from Illamatar. He... speaks to me," she sighed. "I'm an oracle of sorts, I guess."

Fléin snorted. "Ha! And why would the Great Llama choose to speak through a lesbian?

Alli snorted in response. "I'm not actually a lesbian, you idiot. I just said that to see the look on your face. What's so wrong with lesbianism anyway?"

"It's unnatural," he replied immediately.

She sidled next to him on the stump. "Fléin," she said softly. "Is it natural for alter egos to jump out of one's body and start talking. Is it natural for monsters to turn into fish?"

"No," he admitted.

"You're in Mordor, Fléin. Even if you can't accept the unnatural, learn to tolerate it. Is it natural for Dwarves to puke up cats?"

"No."

"There you go. By that logic, you're unnatural too."

She paused for Fléin to absorb this. He had to admit, she had him there.

"Anyway, who are you to judge what's natural and what isn't?" she continued.

Fléin sighed. "You have a point, I guess. Wilhelmina said something odd to me, by the way," he attempted to shift the subject.

"Oh? What was that then?"

"Well, I asked if she thought you and Sai were lesbians. And she said... what did she say? Ah, yes. 'If you've been sitting here imagining those nice young girls doing naughty things, then you can take your fantasies elsewhere, mister.' What's that about? Why would I imagine you two being naughty together? Are lesbians notorious for playing practical jokes? And why's it so wrong to think about it?"

Alli didn't reply for a while, trying to shape her response as well as possible. "Well... that's not quite what she meant by naughty things. You see, she meant... well..." She made a sign that it would be wholly inappropriate to describe.

Fléin's eyes widened. "But why would I imagine such a thing?"

Alli shrugged. "It's a male thing, at least for humans. They think it's hot."

Fléin frowned. "Why would it be so? Surely two lesbians together would maintain their temperature of thirty-seven degrees?"

"They think it's attractive. Hot means attractive."

"Oh. Stupid homophones. Why is it attractive?"

Alli shrugged. "Well, would you prefer one cake or two?"

"But women aren't cakes! And they would be lesbians. It would be like a cake entirely for show, one that you could not eat."

Alli shrugged once more. "To be honest, I don't really get it myself."

"Do human women not feel like this about their menfolk?"

"Nope."

"Oh."

They both sat in silence for at least five minutes, each one pursuing their own thoughts.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Is that another beaver? I completely forgot about the beavers!" Alli cried, pointing to the bank. Fléin hastily stood up, gathered the two beaver halves, and shoved them out of sight behind a tree.

The new beaver sidled up to them. They both stared intently, keen to hear what it had to say.

It spoke.

Fléin heard "A man is in a groove." Alli heard "A span wide as the moon." They both sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"Beaver!" Fléin said. "Do you understand me? If so, nuzzle Alli."

The beaver rubbed its head across Alli's calf.

"Okay. For each syllable we get right, rub your head against her left leg - that's the one you're on. If we get it wrong, rub yourself against her right. Got it?"

The beaver nodded.

Eventually, they had got the message out of the beaver. A Slan is on the move. But what was a slan? According to the dictionary Fléin had on his body (he had bought it at the doors of Mordor to learn English before realising that, in Mordor, he automatically knew the language and had been conned) it meant "without place, year, or name of publication." So a mysterious... thing was on the move.

The beaver, meanwhile, was pulling at their legs to go back to the village. They followed blindly.

They rushed on, through the clearing, to the edge of the forest. Emerging from the treeline they found - Anakron, waiting for them. The rest of the village was out of sight behind some huts.

Anakron smiled. "So. A spy," he said simply. Alli and Fléin looked at one another, confused. The beaver, meanwhile, had turned tail and was running at full speed back to the forest. But before it could make it - Anakron aimed his staff at it. The cat yowled. Flash! Blue light. And the beaver was turned to stone.

Anakron turned to face the two members of the offending party. "Forget everything that beaver told you. She is a liar." He turned, and stalked off back to the group, leaving Alli and Fléin gawping.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

After Alli and Flein's heart to heart, she felt much more kindly to the Dwarf. He was, after all, even more a stranger in these proceedings than she. At least she understood quite a bit of human nature, even though it often annoyed her. He was left thinking about the average temperature of lesbians.

Now she was very curious to know why Illamatar had appeared to give her a vision that had nothing to do with her mysterious side-plot. Beavers? A Slan? Alli had a random idea, but she doubted that she was right. Though maybe... she'd speak with Flein once Anakron had put away his pokey-stick of doom and destruction. Alli had avoided death and dismemberment thus far... she didn't feel the need to turn into stone.

Walking back to the group, Alli shared a meaningful glance with Aimè and a wink with Sai. Mardil was gone.

Valde could be heard mentioning the suspicious nature of his disappearance... Alli knew better, or thought she did. She wasn't worried that Mardil would kill them all... but she still wanted to know what he was up to.

"Sai... will you come with me? If not, I can ask Aimè. I need to find out what Mardil's doing."

Sai looked worried... Fea was missing, but she was dead, so Sai knew that there wouldn't be a repeat performance of that particular fiasco. Slowly she nodded.

"Okay."

They walked to Mardil's cabin and knocked on the door.

"Please come back later. I'm in the middle of something." sounded Mardil's voice.

"Sure you are." muttered Alli rebelliously. She still hadn't managed to get over Mardil's perceived indiscretions. Sai looked nervous.

"What?" called Mardil.

"I'm sure you're in the middle of something. Who's in there with you?"

"If you must know, child, I'm trying to get some work done in here, so run along and play."

"Work is it? So that's what you're calling it these days? I'm so sure." Her voice took a sing-songy pitch as she made fun of him. "My name is Mardil and my idea of work is locking myself in my rooms with beautiful women. I have no morals so it's absurdly simple for others to condemn me. They don't even need an excuse. I'll kill and sleep around and break girls' hearts and whatever else floats my boat because I'm a stupid chauvanist like James Bond!" Alli finished at almost a yell, losing most of her temper and her maturity in one sentence.

Finally Mardil lost his temper a bit as well, shouting "If I have to tell you to leave me alone one more time I'm going to drag you into the woods and tie you to a tree!"

Alli yelled through the door. "You think you'd be able to do it so easily? Yeah right. I wouldn't let you. You'd LIKE IT too much!"

Aimè came up and put his hand on Alli's shoulder. "You okay?" he whispered. "Anything I should be worried about?"

"No... he's harmless enough... he's just being stupid." She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't crying either. Aimè's influence was helping to curb her emotional outbursts. She was beginning to owe him, if owing it could be called, for in this sort of partnership, neither of the pair owed the other anything but trust and equal commitment. "No..." she repeated. "Everything's fine. I just want to know what he's up to when he's pretending to be all macho. I have a feeling that he's very sweet underneath... I wonder why he tries to hide it so often."

Aimè patted her shoulder. "Guys are odd like that." he replied, shrugging. "Come on, girls... he'll be out when he's ready."

Alli and Sai walked with Aimè back to the circle, one grinning on each arm of his. He didn't seem much upset to have two pretty young girls as his escorts.

[the guy who be short]

After Alli left with Sai, Fléin receded back to the woods to think. Panakeia's ideas had gained strength in the village. Almost nobody believed in the wolves anymore, and as a result, nobody was voting. What would happen was anybody's guess. Indeed, many of the villagers had tried to guess, and each suggestion was - to Fléin's mind, anyway - as downright ridiculous as Panakeia's.

A sudden movement made him jump off of his stump and grasp his axe. He stared, eyes wide with wonder, as a dryad, frail and wispy, approached him. "Pray, put down your axe, good Dwarf," she said, and her voice was as the song of the Vanyar before the feet of Manwe upon the Hallowed Mountain, not that Fléin would ever know what that was like. He lowered his weapon.

"Are you an ent?"

"Nay, good sir. I am a dryad, a spirit of the trees. I am come to tell you that A Slan is on the move."

Fléin bowed his head. "My lady, I had heard this news before, though I know not what it forbodes."

The dryad's bell-like voice rung over his form, warming him. "Do you not then know who is A Slan?"

"Nay," he replied, bowing his head. In her presence, he felt uncouth and ignorant.

"My, you are uncouth and ignorant" the spirit replied.

"Tell me what A Slan is! Tell me what it means!"

"I must go!" was her response. There was a burst of wind, and the spirit seemed to dissipate.

Fléin rushed towards where her form had stood, only to see Anakron stalking towards him.

"There you are!" he said. "Most antisocial of you, staying here. Come back to the village with me."

Fléin had no choice but to be escorted away. He cast a last longing look around the place, searching for the dryad, but finding only two halves of a beaver.

Grudgingly, he returned to the village, but his thought was with the beautiful spirit - and with A Slan.