Assigned to Mordor RPG

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Hookbill." said Panakeia, "Why do you keep saying 'Oh, dear'? I can assure you, there's nothing wrong with me." Hookbill looked up sharply and began twitching like Gollum on a bad hair day... which was every day.

"Oh, but there’s something wrong with me," mumbled Hookbill as he sat down again, "Do you have any food?" Panakeia shook her head and Hookbill put his hand over his eyes and shook his head. He seemed to have a card on the desk that said, "congratulations on your successful operations" written in big bubble letters and a picture of a cartoon doctor showing a thumbs up with a patient on an operating table doing the same, only with a hole in his chest.

"Are you alright?" asked Panakeia as the tears rolled down Hookbill's face and he looked around his person for something.

"I'm looking for my stethoscope," he said eventually. He got up and walked around the room, coming to the bookcase he climbed up and began looking around. "It must be here somewhere." he threw all the books onto the floor, "not here," he mumbled. He went over to a filing cabinet and emptied it onto the floor. "Still nothing." he went to another table on the other side of the room, there was a large packet of crisps on top of some paper. "Ah ha! Naughty stethoscope, hiding in the crisps again!" he tore open th packet and crisps went everywhere. No stethoscope.

"Doctor?" said Panakeia,

"Its no good," moaned Hookbill (although he was happy inwardly), "I cant' do the physical, I cant' find the stethoscope."

"Have you checked the desk in front of you?"

"Oh, there it is." Hookbill picked it up and put the earpieces in, "Lets have a listen then."

"What to?" Panakeia thought about escaping almost as much as Hookbill did.

"Well... erm..." he paused, "the... erm... heart?" Panakeia sighed. Hookbill placed the listening part of the stethoscope on Panakeia's chest and listened. He hummed as if in thought, although the only thing he was thinking of was the best way to get out. "Yep, both working normally." he said moving back.

"What do you mean, 'both'?" Panakeia inquired, eyeing Hookbill suspiciously.

"Oh, you only have one heart?" he looked in the textbook which was mysteriously back on the desk, "Then we'll have to get that sorted. It’s a condition called 'Severe arctic heartic' making your heart beat so loud that it seems there are two of them. Ask the nurse for some pills and you'll be right as rain by tomorrow." Hookbill grinned inwardly, 'that was good' he thought.

"I don't believe you," said Panakeia, "Are you even a doctor?"

"Apparently," mused Hookbill, "that’s what they told me. But, if there appears to be no change, then... erm... go and see someone else about it. Good bye!" Panakeia gladly left and Hookbill slumped back in his chair, looking at the mess he had made. He hummed and began creeping towards the door. 'If I take my coat off and make a run for it, perhaps no one will notice Me.' he thought, but as he began to remove the blood stained coat, the intercom buzzed at him and he fell over.

"Doctor," said the nurse, "the patient you just sent to me can't take pills."

"Why?"

"We only have Orc pills," the nurse seemed concerned, "she'll have to go for surgery, I've sent her down there now."

Hookbill cried and fell to the floor. The door opened again.

[Celuien]

Panakeia left Hookbill's office in a fit of pique. 'Severe arctic heartic?' Bah. There was no such thing. But hadn't Hookbill said something about two hearts? Suddenly, she decided to blame her conscience, the source of so many of her problems over the past few days (she thought).

This is all your fault. You're the one who had to give me a heart.

Don't be ridiculous. You know that the heart you're talking about is just a metaphor.

I wouldn't be so sure. This is Mordor after all. But that Hookbill. I know a thing or two about fakery, and he's a fake if I ever saw one.

So first you blame me, then you say he's wrong? A bit inconsistent, aren't we?

She snapped back. I'll be as inconsistent as I want.

At least there was one thing to be grateful for. Hookbill hadn't said anything about surgery. Panakeia would gladly accept the pills, although whether or not she would take them was a different matter. She walked up to the nurse.

"Can I help you?" The nurse smiled pleasantly.

"Yes. Dr. Hookbill," Panakeia nearly choked over the 'Doctor' "said something about pills for severe arctic heartic."

"I'll see what I can do." She strolled over to a closet and looked inside. "Oh dear. We only have pills for Orcs. I’m afraid you'll need surgery."

"Surgery? No. I don’t want that. Just give me the pills. I'll only take them when I'm driving. I'm an Orc then. I promise."

"That simply won't do. Off to surgery you go."

"Who said you can make that decision? You're not a doctor. For that matter, neither is Hookbill. I'm sure of it. I'm leaving." Panakeia turned to flee. But two Orcs stood behind her.

The nurse addressed the Orcs. "Take this patient to surgery, please."

As Panakeia struggled and the nurse pressed a button on the intercom to inform Hookbill about the latest development in her case, the Orcs dragged her away.

"This isn't right, you know," she protested. "What about informed consent?" The Orcs shrugged and pulled her into the operating theatre. As she entered, a voice said "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Valde, at least, would like this place, she thought glumly as ropes secured her to a chair.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli slipped through the door just as Panakeia walked out of it. She looked disdainfully at the crying man on the floor and kicked him lightly.

"Come on, get up."

"No... I don't want to do this any more. You can't make me." Consulting his medical manual, Doctor Hookbill wept a bit more and looked more dejected than ever.

"Come now, Doctor, I'm in a hurry. I know you're still recovering from the attack in the beginning of the game from that jerk Mario... but that's no reason for you to lay on the floor crying."

At the name, Hookbill looked up, his tears startled into stopping.

"Yes, I know. I'm the one that found you. Blame me, if you want, that you ended up here, but blame me quickly and let me leave. I still have to go find Mario again and kill him. The more time we waste, the less time I have to save the world. You wouldn't want the world to get destroyed, would you?"

There was a poignant pause as Alli stood within kicking distance and the Doctor lay on the floor, helplessly imbibing information from his book.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

With the bottle empty and his mind ablaze, Hookbill looked at Alli in confusion. But as this was his normal facial expression, she did not notice anything. The World? Destroyed? Hookbill bobbed his head from side to side and then crawled under his desk and then slumped up to his chair. The room was spinning. He felt sick. "I think I need a doctor,” he said at last.

"How ironic," snorted Alli. Hookbill shook his head. What was in that whiskey? He picked up the textbook and looked at the empty bottle. The whiskey label, it seemed, was glued over the top of another. So Hookbill removed the label to find another that said, 'vinegar'.

"Oh good grief," said Hookbill, ready to be sick, "I don't feel so good." he dashed to the window, opened it with surprising ease, and was sick. Alli slumped into the chair and waited patiently as the little man returned to his chair and then dashed back to the window again. Hookbill finally got back to his seat and stayed there. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, forgetting nearly everything Alli had said.

"Oh, I have this huge pain in the back side," she sneered, "I think its called 'Hookbill's disease'."

"Really? Then go and find a cure." Hookbill waddled to the door and tried to escape, but Alli whacked him over the head with something. "Ow!" he cried, holding his head, "What was that for?"

"It was the cure," she sniggered as the little man tried once again to hide under the desk. "Look, don't you understand?"

"Oh, I understand perfectly well," said Hookbill, "You’re trying to kill me, and I'm trying to escape. It’s a sort of paradox, you see?"

"No," Alli nearly tripped on some of the mess, "Do you even know what a paradox is?"

"I don't, and I don't want to find out. If there is nothing wrong with you, then go away!"

"With pleasure," but as she turned, a crab from under the desk grabbed her ankle and refused to let go. Hookbill squeaked and grabbed a stick and began beating the crab with it. Eventually it let go and scuttled off to its hiding place.

"That thing was probably full of germs," said Hookbill, "The nurse will probably know what to do. Go and see her. If she says anything about surgery, just say... something... Its not pleasant." Alli left and the little man began to wonder in his mind. 'The one who found me?' was she responsible for all this? It didn't matter right now. All that mattered was getting away. Hookbill had formulated a plan. He walked to the door, but he jumped as the burse boomed from the intercom.

"I've sent Alli down for surgery." she said.

"What?" screeched Hookbill, grabbing the Palantir, "She doesn’t' need surgery!"

"Oh yes she does. That crab wasn't full of germs, but a bit of its claw is lodged in her leg."

"I told her to refuse surgery."

"Well, she fainted." there was a pause.

"Fainted, or was knocked out?"

"Both."

Hookbill slumped on the tabled and thumbed his fist on the table. The door swung open dramatically.

[the guy who be short]

Fléin staggered out of the operating theatre a few minutes after Sai had left, though he didn't know it. His head screamed in pain. His Talking Brain Syndrome had been relieved, but this was little comfort, as he hadn't had it before.

The surgery had not been without its consequences. He had been shown his image in a mirror before he had left. Not only was his face covered in tender bruises of the purple variety, there was a bloody slash across his forehead where he had been sliced open. He had heard the orcs murmuring before he had been allowed to leave.

"Ith that where-?" whispered one orc in Tartan with square glasses.

"Yeth," replied another with half-moon glasses and a long silver beard. "He'll have that thcar forevew."

This had made him feel little better, though he had to admit, the lightning scar shape was quite trendy looking.

He had left the surgery feeling odd, as well as tender. He presumed he had bled, for he felt light and giddy. His fingers tingled. He had a curious desire to find a broomstick.

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

Fléin finally managed to get to Mr Freud's office, though Sai was within at the moment. He loitered around outside, reaffirming his grip on himself. He felt slightly more secure now.

The corridor was lit with fluorescent lights. One was flickering, in the manner typical of hospitals. The whitewashed walls offered little relief from boredom, and soon Fléin's mind was wondering to A Slan.

Suddenly, he felt that he was being watched, and glanced at the window at the end of the corridor. As if in response to his thought, a sparrow was perched there. He walked over and knew, before it opened it's beak, what it would say.

He opened the window, grabbed the bird in a fist before it could say anything, and glared at it.

"I am not in the best of moods. A Slan is on the move, I know. Now tell me what A Slan is. Oh, bugger."

He realised that he was probably still not fully under his own control. The anaesthetic drugs must have still been affecting his mind. That would explain why he had misjudged his force and now had sparrow puree in his hand.

He sighed, opened the window, and dropped the sparrow carcass out of the window, no more enlightened than before.

[Kath]

Sai entered the room to see a small, balding man sitting in a chair with a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose, a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. He was surrounded by hundreds of books, but they were all so dusty that it looked like they had never once been opened.

The man motioned her to the couch positioned next to the chair.

“ My name is Dr Freud and I will be assessing your mental state. Please lie down and we can get started.”

Sai did as she was told, though she nearly missed the couch as her attention was focused on the small tic the man had under his left eye. It would have been somewhat hypnotic, except that it was completely irregular, and only really got going when he spoke. Her stomach muscles protested as she used them to lower herself onto the couch, but at least her head was cooperating again.

“So, Sai, is it? Well, Sai, were you always with your mother as a young child?”

Stumped Sai tried to remember. It wasn’t easy since she felt slightly concussed, and she was pretty sure memories didn’t even start at that age, but she did her best, and thought that it was pretty unlikely in any case.

“I suppose not, I mean she must have gone places without me.”

“So you were separated from her?”

“Sometimes, but . . .”

“Aha! Maternal deprivation! You are an affectionless psychopath!”

“I am not!”

“And you’re in denial!”

“No I’m not – that’s in Egypt!”

“Oh dear, definitely repressing. You poor thing, your childhood must have been terrible.”

“No it . . .”

“Ever steal anything?”

“No! Well, except Orlando Bloom’s fangirls and J Lo’s bottom.”

“Delusional as well! My word.”

“I’m not delusional! Just ask Anakron!”

“And imaginary friends. My dear girl your mind is quite a minefield.”

About to reply with something a little less restrained, Sai realised that she not going to get any sense from the man, and decided to let him believe what he liked about her if it would just get her out of here faster.

“Fine, so I’m an affectionless psychopathic repressive denialist with imaginary friends.”

“Good! The first stage to recovery is acceptance!”

Shaking her head in bemusement Sai brought her hands to her face and pretended to break down in tears.

”You’re right, oh you’re so right!”

“Wonderful! The barriers have been broken! You’re going to be alright!”

“Really? Does that mean I can go now?”

The little man nodded and stood up. Beaming at Sai he extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. She was a little worried at how fast this whole section seemed to have gone, after the surgery she was sure there would be more dire consequences to be faced. Still, she wasn't about to complain!

“It is nice when I make a breakthrough. Makes me feel like this whole thing is worthwhile.”

And still beaming, he led a now rather guilty feeling Sai back out of the door. Outside she saw Fléin, but before she could warn him that this doctor was as insane as the last one, he had been whisked inside.

[the guy who be short]

"So, Fléin, do sit down. I'm sure you know my job, eh?"

Fléin nodded. He took his place on the couch, but kept his eyes on the window to his left incase another bird came.

"So, how close were you to your father as a child?"

Fléin sighed inwardly. This was not going to be an easy session. He tried to explain, as well as possible, the complexities of Dwarf families and their differences from Men. "You see, we don't display our gender so flagrantly as you humans," he had finished.

All the time, Freud had been taking notes. He looked up into Fléin's eyes, then smiled wryly. "I'm afraid this doesn't bode well. No father figure... Yes... most damaging. Tell me, how old are you?"

"A hundred and a bit," he said.

"And in all this time you've felt no desire to marry?"

Again, Fléin tried to explain the Dwarf customs, but he suspected Freud was only hearing what he wanted to hear.

"Do you feel attracted to anybody?"

Fléin stuttered. He didn't feel like telling this man about Wilhelmina. But then, it was for his mental good. He spilt the beans.

"Wilhelmina? I think I saw her enter the building. Small, squat, wrinkly?"

"Hmm."

Freud sighed, snapped his notebook shut and looked directly at Fléin. "I'm afraid you are a homosexual," he said.

Fléin snapped his head away from the window and glared at the man. "How on Arda did you come to that conclusion? What about Wilhelmina!"

Freud smiled softly. "She's no more a womanly woman than I am."

Fléin felt himself boiling, but restrained himself. Let the imbecile believe what he wanted, if he could leave more quickly. "Actually, now that you mention it, I do find Anakron quite appealing. What's the cure?"

Freud shrugged. "Homosexuality isn't actually a disorder, you know. As such, I can't treat it. You'll have to get used to it."

"What do you mean it's not a disorder! It's abominable!"

"See, you need to get past all these feelings of yours. Learn to accept yourself for who you are, Fléin. Tell me, why do you keep looking out of that window?"

"A Slan is on the move," Fléin replied without thinking, immediately regretting it.

"A Slan? A "sine loco, anno, vel nomine?" Some nameless, placeless, timeless thing is moving?" He scribbled frantically. "I'm afraid you're delusional, my dear Dwarf.

"Delusional? The Birds told me!"

"Completely nutty! No wonder with such poor parenting."

Fléin suddenly felt a deep hatred of the man. "What did you say about my parents?" he demanded through his teeth.

"Poor parenting. No common sense. Gender Ambiguous."

"They were NOT!" Fléin raged at him. His scar burnt, far worse than the dull pain of his bruises, and suddenly...

Freud swelled up. Like a balloon, he swelled bigger and bigger. Fléin watched in amazement, anger gone, as he ballooned out into a sphere and floated to the ceiling.

Fléin jumped out of the couch, opened the door and bellowed down the corridor: "Somebody fetch Doctor Hookbill!"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The Door opened dramatically and the nurse stepped into the room. "Doctor, you are needed." Hookbill laughed, for the first time in a while. He plodded out, following the nurse down the corridor as someone was shouting 'someone get Doctor Hookbill'.

"What is going on?" asked the Doctor, "Is it another bit of surgery?"

"Not yet," replied the nurse, "go in there," she pushed open Freud's door. There they beheld the man floating at the top of the room with his face a vision of rage and confusion. Almost without thinking, Hookbill took a pin from his coat pocket tred to burst Freud. However, he couldn't quite reach and had to stand on a chair.

"Doctor," warned Félin, "I don't think this will work."

"Nonsense, my dear boy," said Hookbill wildly stabbing the pin here and there, not really looking at what he was doing, "I'm a doctor... apparently. I'm sure everything will be alright in the e-"

BANG