Assigned to Mordor RPG

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Quite unexpectedly, Alli both double posted and fell asleep. It wasn't for long, but the dreams were filled with terror and darkness, cut through by a piercing light.

She walked through a valley, shadowed by death, and felt no evil whatsoever since she was fully aware that it was a dream. "Itsa me, Màrîo!" intoned an obnoxiously fake Italian sounding voice. Suddenly bagpipes played out in shining glory and Alli could hear words within them.

Seek for the Kilt that was broken:
On a Scotsman it dwells;
There shall be side-plots taken
Stranger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be given a token
That He is near at hand,
For Hookbill's Bane shall waken,
And a Hero forth shall stand.

Alli woke up, shaking her head. That was the stupidest dream she'd ever had. It didn't even make sense. Well, it sort of did... she'd been worried about this Màrîo since she'd first heard his name spoken by Roggie. She'd fallen asleep just after reading more of him. He was a national hero... and yet she distrusted him. It was no wonder, really, that she'd dreamt of him. But doubleyooteeyef did the rest mean? Was she supposed to go after this kilt-clad creep that she had only her gut instinct to tell her wasn't completely insane? Should she ignore her instincts in favor of what the group believed? But she didn't trust anybody in the group, except for Sai. Her dream had been compelling... she wanted to know more about him. She'd seen things in the back of her mind as she dozed that made her wonder. But he was only a name in a magazine. It wasn't like she'd actually meet him... she was too busy. She had too many problems already without being caught up in a mysterious side-plot. She just wanted to go home...

"It was only a dream..." she murmered to herself before turning to Sai. "How long until we land?"

[Celuien]

It was an uncharacteristically quiet Panakeia who sat behind the wheel, struggling to focus on the drive to Lost Angles. This business of her new feelings towards Valde was most annoying.

They drove on. Panakeia knit her brow together. As usual for Mordor, traffic was terrible and she wasn't entirely sure of where she was going. A bad thing when gas supplies are running low and you don't really know where the next station is either. A question from Valde as to the certainty of her navigation further irritated her, and she snapped at him to look for signs leading the way to Lost Angles, then snapped again when he proceeded to call out the contents of every last sign at the edge of the road, right down to the advertisements for Raglú. She berated herself internally. Oh, why had she done that? Showing her short temper to Valde was the last thing she wanted to do.

They finally found the exit for Lost Angles. With one problem temporarily solved, she at last had enough presence of mind to reattempt conversation, carefully staying on the topic of their quest. That was safe enough.

With a sudden swerve, Panakeia pulled on to the Debauchémain Street of Lost Angles and sped along, at last coming to a halt just a few blocks from the Cultivation Center. She knew that a gathering would soon take place there. They had only missed one at the Mount Doom Resort by a few days. But a leaflet and other literature about the cult posted on the Casino grounds had given the location of the next meeting. Thus, she had excellent information for Shatner's whereabouts tucked away in her pocket. Indeed, the ceremonies were scheduled to begin within the hour. Their arrival had been right on time.

As they started out of the Cruiser, Valde offered Panakeia his arm. Her heart skipped a couple of beats. So polite. A little overly formal, yes, but absolutely charming. I wonder...Formality as a mask for a soft heart? She looked at him hopefully, but said nothing of her secret thoughts. Instead, she gave a somewhat belated answer to his earlier questions.

"Well. I'm going after one William Shatner's legendary hairpiece. I'm sure it'll be a challenge, but I think I can manage it. Actually, you've given me the idea for how to snatch it."

"Really?"

"Yes. I've never sold him makeup or anything like that before. But, I think if I offer him a new poultice or something, I can get him to remove the toupee. Just for a second. And then..." She rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Then, it's mine."

Valde eyed her doubtfully. "Are you sure you aren't a member of the cult? You seem a little too interested in this Shatner character."

Could he possibly be jealous? "Oh no. Of course not. Not in the least. But I am eager to get my prize for Anakron. One step closer to leaving Mordor, you know. Going home. Getting on with life. Aren't you?" She hoped Valde would open up to her, just a little bit.

"I suppose." Silence followed.

"Well. Well. So, you're after Spockú's eyebrows?" Valde nodded in the affirmative. "Even more difficult than the toupee. But I think I can help." Panakeia tapped her sample case. "There are waxing and plucking supplies aplenty in there, though I can't imagine how you're going to get him to agree to using them."

"You'll see." The reply was given with an air of mystery and a grand flourish befitting a Lead Tragic Actor.

That final exchange brought the pair to the door of the Cultivation Center. "Here we are," said Panakeia. "Before we go in, there are just a few tips." She pulled out her flyer and a small book detailing the rituals of the cult and turned to a page marked by a folded corner.

"Never, ever call Shatner Shatner. To his followers, his name is Kirk. Or Captain. Or Jim to those of high rank in the cult. To say anything else would be sacrilege. Watch out for the ones in the red shirts. They're a special guard and will be carefully protecting both Shatner and Spockú. And finally, don't let Spockú's hand touch your shoulder. He is rumored to have strange powers and I wouldn't want anything to happen...I mean we can't have anything happen here to interfere with our task. And once we get what we came for, we run straight back to the Cruiser and take off. Okay?"

"Agreed."

With that, Panakeia and Valde walked up to the Cultivation Center entrance and knocked on the door. A red shirted guard answered. "What is the password?"

"Password?" Panakeia was nearly floored. Would they be denied admission after coming so close? But, like a flash, the answer came to her. Of course, that must be it. It's printed in such big letters on the flyer.

Without any further hesitation, she looked the guard in the eye. "Beam me up, Scotty." He nodded, and the pair passed through the doorway, a little closer to the completion of their mission, though their greatest challenge, the actual claiming of the trophies, was still ahead.

***

Inside, the festivities were in full swing, though the main attraction, the arrival of the honored duo, Kirk and Spockú, was still awaited. A particularly excited electricity snapped through the room, for it was whispered that Kirk and Spockú would be joined by a third member of their crew, the famed Dr. McBones. The guests (all but the two intruders) had come dressed as their honored demi-gods. Several, who were clad in blue, sported pointed ears and thick, obviously synthetic eyebrows. Panakeia was about to lecture them on the proper use of eyebrow pencils when she recalled that she was the one out of place.

Suddenly an excited shout rose from the crowd. Kirk, Spockú and Dr. McBones had arrived with a large group of the ubiquitous red shirted guards. They were immediately pressed in upon from all sides by their worshippers, who thrust pictures, books and smooth, strange objects at them to be signed. Several fainted. Panakeia and Valde were left at the back of the crowd.

"How are we ever going to get in close enough?" cried Valde.

"I'm not sure. Let me try something." She pulled out the flyer and scribbled a message on the back. Handing it to a guard, she begged him deliver it to the Captain. He did. And a few minutes later, Valde and Panakeia were ushered into the presence of the famed adventurers.

"What did you write," hissed Valde.

"Never mind just now," Panakeia returned through a clenched smile. They were now but 5 feet away from their target. "Take this. You may need it." She handed Valde a small packet of Hair Snatcher Wax.

"Captain! What an honor to meet you!" Panakeia put on her brightest smile. Kirk held her note in his hand.

"Is it..true? What...you said?" He waved the message.

Panakeia smiled even more broadly. "Of course it is. Will you try?"

"I will. She may approach."

"Jim! Be careful! Can't you see she's lying?" This came from McBones.

"Well, just because you couldn't..."

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a miracle-worker."

Spockú would have said something just then, but he seemed busy talking to Valde.

Panakeia stepped closer. Just a few more inches. Then, her hand went out and snatched the toupee. She turned and fled, breaking through a line of red shirted guards, who, despite making numerous attempts, were strangely unable to stop her. "Run!" she shouted as red lights flashed over her head and Kirk ran in pursuit of his head covering. As Panakeia ran out into the sunlight, now followed by a crowd of the cult members and the red shirted guards, she couldn't see if Valde was behind her or not. She hoped he would escape safely.

[Durelin]

Still confounded as to how exactly Panakeia had managed to get the two of them in the presence of the most honored Captain and his Spockú, Valde did not waste time considering the possibilities. He approached Spockú and flourished a bow. “I am a great admirer of your work. Never have I seen a mind more large and swollen with brilliance than yours, particularly between a pair of pointed ears.” He knew flattery was the best way to get someone to trust you. It was only logical. And of course it was only logical for everyone to simply be in awe of this ultimate Vulcan.

“Thank you…?”

“Valde,” he said, supplying the Lord of the Brow with his name. He was mesmerized by those dark streaks, twisting up and ending in a slight point. He knew they were not natural. He knew they were a fabrication of dark forces. They irked him so much that he barely saw Spockú reach out with his hand, moving it slowly toward Valde’s shoulder. But his reflexes were quick, and Valde removed the Vulcan hand from anywhere near him.

“You have passed my test. It is logical to assume that you if you admire me, you k now my ways. And since it seems that you know my ways, then you must admire me.”

Of course. It made perfect sense. Valde wasn’t about to tell him otherwise, anyway. Instead, having gained his trust, he made his move.

“Oh my goodness!” he shouted, springing toward Spockú. “Sir, there are a pair of tribbles on your forehead!”

“Great Scotty! Where?!” The Vulcan shouted, flailing.

“On your forehead, sir.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” The pointy-eared man reached up to his face.

“Here, let me pluck them off of you, sir. Just relax. I happen to have the tribble removal kit you used in episode 74.”

Spockú dropped his arms. “I had a special kit for that? Well aren’t I clever.”

“Quick, close your eyes, sir, before their hair particles get in them.”

Valde then turned searchingly to see if he could acquire some kind of help. Dr. McBones approached him, seeing the look of inquiry on his face. “How can I heat this up?” he hissed.

“Here, let me nuke it,” McBones replied. Valde handed over the container of wax with an incredulous look on his face.

“Nuke it?”

“Scotty has a microwave.”

“Ah.”

He turned back to Spockú, who still had his eyes shut. It seemed Valde had made a logical enough argument concerning the tribbles, though logic of course came in many forms across the galaxies. For now, Valde decided to keep himself busy and his victim convinced that there were indeed two small furry animals on his forehead by using the tweasers. How that would do the latter he was not sure, but he began to pluck away at the Vulcan’s eyebrows, anyway.

“Ow!” Spockú exclaimed befittingly. “Hurry up! Those things always did have a nasty bite. That was a bite, wasn’t it?”

“Quite. No blood yet, though, sir. And we’re getting there. Everything’s almost set up for their sticky gooey fate.”

“Sticky gooey? I seem to recall using something like grains…”

“You used a number of preserves, as well, though.”

Valde felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Dr. McBones holding out the container of wax. He couldn’t help himself, and he beamed at him very unlike a Lead Tragic Actor. After taking the wax from him, though, he furrowed his brow in a deep concentration that was much more suitable to his role, and scowled slightly at recalling the smile. He wondered what Panakeia would think of him is she had seen that – she probably would have thought he was a joke. She’d think he was just another silly man who found joy in love and life and food and cute fuzzy little animals and pretty faces. The thought was horrifying.

“Goodness, that is gooey. And how warm. You really didn’t have to go and cook them fresh for me.”

Valde snapped out of his thoughts and realized that he had put quite enough wax on the left furry arch. Grabbing a conveniently pre-cut cloth strip from the kit, he pressed it firmly on the waxed area.

“There, all set for getting the first one. Ah, and he’s gone for it!” Valde commentated, and then pulled ‘in the direction opposite the hair growth’ as instructed.

“By the Borg! Are you sure that wasn’t a furry leech?!”

Valde peered at the cloth he had ripped off Spockú’s face and snickered. Looking at the Vulcan he had to stifle a stream of giggles. He looked lopsided. But quickly any humour Valde found in the situation turned to pure horror. He had reached up to clutch the left side of his face at the stinging pain. It was a natural reaction, of course, as Valde had failed to place any pressure on the area after he pulled the strip off. Perhaps he should have read the directions more carefully.

“What in the Enterprise…?” Spockú questioned while feeling the obvious hairlessness of his left brow. “What have you done?!”

“Run!” Valde heard Panakeia shout, and he silently agreed, racing after her with the conveniently pre-cut strip of cloth dangling from his hand, now stuck to it quite firmly. At least he would get half his points, even if Anakron was not feeling understanding. After a daring escape, the two contestants were on their way back to the Mount Doom Casino and Resort. Both their kamuramen had somehow escaped with them. Valde was disappointed, and questioned them as to whether they had simply stayed in the car the entire time. But, of course, they claimed to have gotten Valde and Panakeia’s entire escapade on their kamuras. Valde scowled as he carefully pried the hair-infested piece of cloth off his hand.

[Encaitare]

With the huge Star Map clutched in her wrinkled hands, Wilhelmina walked down the street, scanning it for Club Pârís. "Let's see," she said as the bottles in her pockets clanked. "The Opposite of Soft Stone Restaurant? No... Hemisemidemi Moore? No... Planet Trollywood? No... aha! There it is!" To her dismay, the club was on the other side of the resort. Glancing at a conveniently placed scrolling sign which displayed the time, temperature, and velocity of an unladen sparrow, she realized that she probably couldn't make it if she walked... and she didn't feel like driving again. Ever.

So what to do?

"Move it, lady!" someone said loudly, bustling past her. Apparently she had stopped right in the middle of the busy sidewalk while lost in thought. 'I'm behaving like a ruddy tourist with this map and just stopping short in the middle of the sidewalk... how foolish of me,' she thought, and then realized that could work, too.

~*~*~*~*~

Wilhelmina had decided not to sit on the top level of the double-decker tour bus, but was now regretting it. Rabid tourists with flashing cameras, sunglasses, and too much sunscreen were pressed up against the windows. They kept turning to her and exclaiming "Isn't that something!" and "We'll have to remember to tell the kids about that!" One man actually kept poking her and pointing to various buildings and nondescript lamp-posts in his excitement. "You know," she said severely, "I went to Nü Yawk once. And if you stop to point at things there, you get trampled. Do you know there's a huge glob of sunscreen on your nose? Oh, you did. Never mind, then."

Finally, she could take it no more, and she climbed the narrow stairs up to the top, where there were just as many rabid tourists, but a bit more fresh air. The kamura-orc, which had been goodnaturedly braving the tourists, seemed relieved. A bored-sounding orc was pointing out the sights, and for once Wilhelmina was glad she was going a bit deaf.

She pulled the brim of her hat down over her ears and kept a lookout for the club. Around her, people shouted and carried on and hurried down the street to their various destinations. She should have felt lucky she had the opportunity to get out of Mordor, and yet she felt rather lonely amidst all these rushing, insufferable people. She found herself missing Fléin, in fact. The cat-upchucking Dwarf had a certain charm.

She felt someone prodding her, and was about to whack the offending tourist with her walking stick. But it was only the kamuraorc. "Cwub Pâwís! It's wight thewe!" he was saying. Wilhelmina grinned, and the two of them grabbed the leash that an anxious mother was using to tether her child, and heroically swung off the top of the bus, both hoping they'd never have to experience such a wretched form of travel again.

"So now what?" asked the kamuraorc.

"Now," said Wilhelmina mysteriously, "we set the bait." All aura of mystery vanished as she produced a package of dog biscuits from her pocket. Carefully, she laid them on the ground in a trail from the door. She then took Panakeia's perfumes and did the same thing in the opposite direction.

"Woo awe going to wuwe hew out?"

"Yes... but first we're going to lure her dog out."

"How do woo know it wiww wowk?" the orc asked doubtfully.

"The dog'll smell the treats and come out, and she'll come chasing after it. Plus, you've got a kamura. People like her are complete kamurahôres. Most celebrities are." Wilhelmina hoped very much that she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. She didn't want to blow it and get no points... whatever the points meant, anyway.

~*~*~*~*~

After a duration of time which shall remain undefined so as to maintain some small aura of mystery, an obnoxious yapping sound was heard. And just a few moments after that, a rat in GooChee clothing burst out of a doggie door, having smelled the treats.

"Tinkerbell! Tinkerbell!" a woman cried, tripping along in gleaming pink heels. "Tinkerbell, come back to Mommy!" Then the shiny baubles caught her eye, and the pair were like kids in a candy shop, or happy anime characters with sparkles the size of galaxies in their eyes. "That's hot, said Pârís Hiltôn as she picked up the shinies one by one.

Wilhelmina gestured to the kamuraorc, who hastily ran to the end of the perfume trail, film rolling. Pârís Hiltôn looked up at the lens, said "Hi," and continued to smile vaguely in that direction like someone who has too much money and not enough purpose in life. And while Tinkerbell gobbled up the last of the treats, Wilhelmina unscrewed the cap of the Pearie Ockcide Potion and poured the contents on the dog's tail. She then proceeded to shout in horror.

"Oh! Oh! Ms. Hiltôn! Your dog!"

"She's adorable," Pârís Hiltôn said serenely, as though she were in her own little sunshine-and-rainbow world and the rest of them weren't allowed in.

"But she's sick!"

Immediately she was at the dog's side. "My Tink? My Tinky-Winky? What's the matter with my puppy-wuppy?"

"Her tail's gone blonde!" Wilhelmina fussed. "She must have... er... dog flu," she concluded lamely. Dog flu? Wherever did she come up with that? Now she had to go with it, though. "Yes, the dog flu can be fatal! I'd better take her to a doctor!"

"I thought you were a doctor," said Pârís Hiltôn.

"What?" Wilhelmina said confusedly.

"You must be a doctor... you know about diseases. That's what doctors do, right?"

"Sweetie," said Wilhelmina as kindly as she could, "I'm no doctor. I'm sure we all know about a good number of diseases."

"Maybe I should go with Tinkerbell..."

"No! That's just fine!" Wilhelmina dug in her pocket and drew out the mirror she had purchased. "Here! Occupy yourself with this!"

"That's hot," said Pârís Hiltôn as she vapidly stared at her own reflection.

"How shouwd we get back to the hotew?" asked the orc.

Wilhelmina looked around, and her eyes settled on something that was black, shiny, and at least three times longer than it really needed to be. "How about by limo?"

[Kath]

Sai had not minded that Alli wouldn’t be very sociable throughout the flight. She had always enjoyed being able to sit by a window and watch as the world went by beneath her, and a lack of distractions would make that easier. So she sat in a window seat (for once blessedly empty), pressed her nose against the glass and remained happily amused that way for a good few hours.

She was so enthralled that she started when Alli spoke, not having realised that she was awake. She looked over and noted that the girl seemed worried about something, but by this time knew better than to ask what it was.

“Not long.” She replied. “We’ve been getting lower for a while now so . . .”

Her words were interrupted as the wheels of the plane suddenly hit the ground without warning. Sai and Alli were thrown forward but managed to catch themselves before they fell out of their chairs. From the screams coming through the floor, those below in the cargo hold weren’t so lucky. The plane came to stop a few minutes later, and Sai finally stopped clutching the arms of her seat. She saw Alli release her equally white-knuckled grip and the two of them slowly stood up, hoping their shaky legs would hold them up.

“I’ll go get the others out of the hold.” Sai offered, needing to get onto stable earth as quickly as possible (or at least as stable as was possible in Mordor). “You can go ‘thank’ our pilot.”

Alli nodded and headed towards the front of the plane. Sai climbed down the stairs that must either have travelled with them the entire journey or had just mysteriously appeared out of thin air, as there was no one around who could have put them there. She opened the door to the hold and as she did she was knocked over backwards as a body fell on top of her. Scrambling out from underneath Sai laughed as she realised it was Tom. The poor boy had been sitting with his back right up against the door so he could escape as quickly as possible. Hauling him to his feet she began to lead him away from the plane and his new fangirls followed right behind.

They made their way to the specified meeting point, Alli joining them about halfway through the journey. Depositing Tom, the fangirls and the box in front of Anakron, Sai and Alli waited for the rest of the group to arrive.

[littlemanpoet]

Anakron almost smiled. Alli and Sai had returned early, with their most valuables and more to boot. Very good.

"I see you have Rowling's bad-boy (but no Rowling which doesn't matter as how could you since she is otherwise occupied) and Bloom's fangirls, Alli. Well done. And without Mardil's help. More than enough. Certainly more than one, or three. Not to mention your extra curricular activities. Ten points." Sai was casting her glance between Alli and Anakron, mystified as to what extra curricular activities Anakron referred to.

"Never you mind, my dear Sai; you have more than enough to concern yourself with, let me assure you." So speaking, he lifted his staff. "Let the Dweomer be activated as is most appropriate at this time in the case of Sai."

Suddenly Sai's kamuraorc stepped up beside her, staring at her with his big, bloodshot eyes all soft and gooey (well, ***** actually), grinning stupidly. "I've been meaning to tell woo, that woo awe the howse-apple -" Suddenly his eyes went big and his greenish face went completely green. "Ulp!" he said, and hurled all over Sai.

"Yuck!" Sai yelled.

The kamuraorc's eyes widened. "How did woo know the mating call of the female owc!?" He grinned and retched again.

Anakron clicked his tongue. "Control yourself, Lurge!"

"Sowwy, siw."

"Some of these anakronisms are just so appealing," Anakron murmured. "At least, Sai, you have done most admirably in disabusing JLo of her - ahem - slightly overabundant assets. Ten points."

Anakron turned to the Siamese Cat atop his staff. "Tell me, Sylvester, how do Panakeia and Valde fare? And don't spit while you talk."

The cat became furry and black and white with an oversized nose and eyes and couldn't keep his tongue in his cheeks. "She's falling for him but thtaying on her own two feet. He's getting all fowled up-" here Sylvester grinned.

"I said, don't spit when you speak."

"Thorry."

"There you go again."

"Thorry again," Sylvester grimaced. "Anyway, he's getting all fowled up with Drekkies."

"No doubt Panakeia will rescue him somehow, as he will no doubt need it once he has disabused Spockú of his Lord Foul Brow. Ah, I feel another dweomer coming on. Cat, return to your former state."

"Awww!" Sylvester bawled, and became part of the staff again.

"Panakeia shall try to flirt and thus hurl."

Alli's hand went to her hip. "Is that it?! How unoriginal!"

"Do not speak of unoriginal, as very soon, once Mardil can be found, I foresee you relinquishing Balrog fur through your food orifice."

Her eyes went wide with horror. "No! Not that! Anything but that! You're so cruel!"

"But of course. I taught the likes of you before I was ensconced in my current disposition. Now go distract yourselves with your ill-gotten most valuables. I promise you, Orlando and JLo are not happy and are hot on your tails. So tuck them and run. And Lurge, don't drool.

"One last thing, Alli and Sai, after you've taken care of Tom, Orlando, JLo, Lurge, and assorted mindless twits of the female gender, be back here spot on sundown. Kapiche?"

Off they ran. Not a moment too soon, as up came an entire crew of Trollywood sets, actors, kamuraorcs, and all assorted hangers-on thereof. And Bleater Quackson, of course.

"We're ready for the big scene!" Bleater said.

"Have all the bureaucratic red tape and actors' contracts been completed?

"Yes!"

"Roggie's and Queen Quon's as well?"

"Of course!"

"And J.K.'s?"

But of course! I never overlook any detail, even if it doesn't belong."

"Well then, get on with it."

Bleater turned to his crew and gave the order, then pointed at what was left of Mount Doom. "Roll!" he shouted.

On the southern slope was Queen Quon, using two clawed feet and one hand to climb while holding something in the other.... which happened to be gesticulating madly and screaming at the top of its lungs.

"Rowling, I presume?" asked Anakron.

"But of course! They wouldn't let me direct her films, so this is turn about fair play!"

On the north face climbed Roggie, also holding something in his fist. Only, this particular 'thing' was watching everything that happened with a bored look in his eyes, his chin resting on his elbow, disdaining to show the least bit of excitement regarding his predicament.

"Mardil, I presume?" asked Anakron.

"Yes! And thanks!"

"He agreed?"

"He said he always wanted to be an actor in a movie. Now he gets his chance."

"He doesn't seem to be enjoying it."

"That's the way he's supposed to play it."

Anakron shrugged and waited for the moment when the two monsters would see each other over the crest of what was left of Mount Doom; not to mention, what would happen when Mardil was confronted with Rowling.

[Encaitare]

“How do I know you’re not a pair of dognappers,” the driver asked suspiciously.

Wilhelmina held up the yapping dog, displaying its bleached tail. “Tinkerbell has the dog flu!” she told him. “I’m Miss Hiltôn’s spiritual advisor, dearie; we’re very close, and she’s given me special instructions to take the poor puppy to the resort hotel where she can see a doctor friend of ours. I knew this would happen, of course,” she added. “It’s been in the stars for months.”

“And who are you?” the driver asked the kamuraorc.

“Uh… just fiwming, siw. Hewe to make suwe Tinkewbeww is tweated pwopewwy.” The orc glanced nervously at Wilhelmina and she nodded ever so slightly. Maybe the orc wasn’t a complete loss.

“Okay, then. I’ll take you to the hotel.” The driver opened the door, and Wilhelmina, the kamuraorc, and Tinkerbell (and Mr. Swanky, deep in the recesses of Wilhelmina’s hat) got inside.

“Thank you, young man.”

“No problem,” he said, getting into the front seat and promptly changing into an orc. “I’ll get you there in no time – I drive fast.”

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Eomer of the Rohirrim (in after days, Aimé of Mordor) woke up, and instantly wished he hadn't. He had thought the Black Land was horrible, but the pain of this miserable little village was now dominating his consciousness. Or maybe that feeling was down to a night spent sleeping in a bed about as comfortable as a grave. Eomer did not care to think too hard about it; his mind could be occupied only with the bizarre events of yesterday.

He had been swept off his feet from the wide hostile land of Mordor into the midst of this Ridiculous Party Gathering (hereafter referred to as RPG) and he wasn't sure if he should accept it. "Why am I here?" he wailed, a little too loudly. It caused a very tall blond fellow to stare weirdly at him. This guy looked right at home among the fear, suspicion and acute paranoia; he was enjoying it! Eomer supposed that the man probably lived in Dol Gaurgauroth. He didn't know him, anyway. But of course! Eomer didn't know anyone in this place. Except...

He scanned the group and found the girl. Running lightly towards her, he noticed a sort of fog forming around him. He stopped, and the fog started to disappear. Strange, thought he, and went for the girl again. The fog returned, enabling Eomer to retain a curious kind of invisibility, and ensuring that his movements could not be recorded. Sweet.

"Alli" he called as the fog disappeared: now visible, he saw that he had reached the girl, who looked somewhat different today.

"Oh...yyyes, dear! How are you?" She smiled a smile which could be described only as devilish. Eomer started as he realised that he had been mistaken.

"Excuse me, miss" he said. "Only, you do bear a resemblance to Alli; and she's the one person I know here."

"Oh you poor thing!" the girl replied. "In that case you must get to know me." The smile never left her lips, but now her voice lowered to a husky whisper. She stared deeply into Eomer's eyes, in a way that professional hypnotists can only dream of [not that I'm suggesting professional hypnotists desire to gaze into my eyes—or am I?] "You mustn't be led by that Alli girl. She will be a bad influence on you, won't you let me tell you why? My name is Fea."

How could Eomer resist? So far, Alli had hunted him down, claimed to know a deep dark secret of his, brought him into this RPG catastrophe, and left him alone among these strange terrifying people. Conversely, Fea had been nothing but sugar and spice and all things nice. She took his hand, and led him to the village wishing-well, subconsciously intentional, if that.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"You see, m'dear," Fea said, patting the wall of the well beside her. He sat, a bit of tartan peeking out from beneath his cloak. "Alli is just a kid. I know her well, though she does not know me. She just wants to go home. She wouldn't mind learning what it's like to be in love. But she is still a child. In time, I imagine that she will calm down and become slower to judge people, softer-spoken, and curse less. Now? Yes... she is a slave to her teenage-girl hormones. She's not yet learned to control them.

"What matters is that she means well. She is sometimes foolish, but she always regrets it, even if her pride will not let her apologize. Don't let her arrogance make you distrust her... she could be a powerful ally."

Fea realized that her defense of Alli could be construed as wolfish-comaradery, but she did not care. Alli's life was important... not hers. Actually, that wasn't true at all. Fea really liked her life most of the time, especially now that there was this one guy that... wait... That's Shire, not Mordor. In any case, Fea didn't want to see anything happen to Alli because of misunderstanding. She spoke again.

"'Mer, you should talk to her. She'll flirt. She'll seem shallow sometimes. But she'll tell you interesting things if you can earn her trust. She knows very much and has the most impressive connections with the Mordorian underworld. The reason, 'Mer, that she seems so inaccessable is because she wants you to think it of her. She's been hurt. She doesn't trust people."

"How do you know this?" murmered Aimè, entranced by Fea's words. "How do you know so much of Alli?"

"I have sources." Fea smiled softly, her thoughts hidden, but with a look of sweet contentment making her features look far more angelic than their usual devilish humor allowed. Aimè could not even find a smirk. "Ah, if you'll excuse me..."

Fea released Aimè's hand now and walked up to the crowd again, arms extended.

"'Ello, my loves, my doves, you have no idea. I've been having the most fascinating thoughts. I've been plotting like you wouldn't believe. You should be nervous. Those of you that are wolves, of course." She smiled in a way that conveyed a bit of bonkerdom. She didn't look all together sane, much different than she had just before with Aimè when her features had held amusement, flirtation, concern, and curiosity, all in turn. Aimè looked on in wonder as she propped her thumbs on her belt buckle, resting her palms on her waist. She shifted her weight to one side and looked nothing short of gorgeous as she teased the folk of Dol Gaurgauroth. "I think that we should lynch Anakron."

Anakron stood and began to speak some sort of rule that no doubt forbade it.

"No, listen to me." she interrupted, shooing him away. "This entire thing is his doing. If we lynch him, he'd be deprived of his fun, we'd know for sure whether or not he is innocent, and we'd all be able to leave Mordor without a single bit of trouble. After all, the Dweomer works through him. Without a conductor, surely it is as a disconnected circuit?"

Fea winked at Alli who glared at her. Fea smiled at the girls contrariness, appreciative of her dirty look. It was one that should have been able to kill. Maybe some day she'd learn to harness that energy. Hopefully it'd be a day after she learned to control her temper.

The rest of the crowd looked at Fea, swayed by the confident tone of her voice, her looks, her seriousness, and the way she seemed to speak such logic. It was only the loony look in her eyes that kept them from forking Anakron with a pitch immediately.

[Kath]

Completely bewildered by this entire set up, Sai kept close to Alli, hoping she would have some idea of what to do. Unfortunately she seemed just as confused, as well as seriously annoyed by the appearance of Fea who had charmed everyone in sight the second she turned up. Feelings of loyalty and perhaps some pride that she had been the only one to get through her defences kept Sai on Alli’s side and so, for now at least, immune to the pervasiveness of the newcomer.

She had gathered from Anakron’s instructions and the gruesome death of his counterpart, that there were 3 wolves in among this motley crew of individuals, and that the way to complete this next task was simply to stay alive. As she mused over this, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Wait a second... Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!"

As people (using the term in it’s loosest sense) turned to look at her, she realised she had spoken out loud. Blushing she turned away, but not before noticing the suspicious looks that Flein was shooting at her and Alli from under his bushy eyebrows. Sai wondered if he thought the two of them were wolves, Anakron had said they could be among the members of the Offending Party, which was a scary thought in itself. She thought they were more likely to be some of these newer people. Surely she’d have noticed if one of the Party were a werewolf . . . wouldn’t she?

She noticed that this Fea girl was speaking again, suggesting that they lynch Anakron. She was tempted to agree, but wondered whether his death might mean that their chances of getting out of Mordor were scuppered, since he was in charge of it all.

Fortunately it seemed that some of the others agreed with her, or at least were put off by the homicidal look in Fea’s eyes. She certainly seemed overly keen on killing someone, and she never even said she thought Anakron was a wolf. Also, from what she'd heard back home about these 'games' she was sure that the innocent people were supposed to have helpers, people with special gifts who could swing the balance of power.

Due to her slight phobia of having to speak in front of large groups of people, Sai whispered these little observations to Alli (gaining another glare from Fléin for some reason - perhaps he thought they were plotting something?), who nodded and thought it over. Sai knew Alli was as wary of this new addition to their group as she was, and hoped that she would have some kind of plan to figure out whether she really was as innocent and helpful as she was trying to appear to be, or was just attempting to avoid suspicion.

While Alli was thinking, Sai gazed around at the groups of people mulling about. From Rowling's creations she knew the signs one was supposed to look out for in a werewolf, but those weren't really helpful when everyone around was in as human a form as they could manage.

From her right she heard a snap of fingers, and turned toward Alli, wondering whether she'd come up with anything or was frustrated with the inability to do so. Sai sincerely hoped it was the former. She really didn't like the idea of being killed.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli had come up with an idea. Just as quickly, she'd forgotten what it was.

She'd listened to everything that Sai told her and glared prettily at Flein when he looked suspiciously at her. She'd come up with the most brilliant strategy in the history of Tol-in-Gaurhoth scenarios that would guarantee a win. And then, like I already said, she forgot it. She smacked herself in the head and only managed to make herself cry out in pain when she nailed herself in the bruise from the rock. Another vision showed up, this one of J.Lo. in a shower. She was getting really sick of this stuff. Illamatar was really bad at telling her when she was having real visions and when she was just having weird thoughts. At least the Scotsman was out of her head. But now he was in front of her. And she had to keep him alive. Even if he was a wolf. Illamatar had said so, and one didn't ignore a direct order from the deity that half of the forum thought was God.

She whispered back to Sai, her mouth close to the girl's ear to keep unwelcome strangers from reading her lips.

"We need Aimè on our side. His importance to the side-plot is unimaginably huge. His death would be a blow to all of Middle Earth and especially to me. I really need to find out why Eru thinks he's so important. I can't let him die. Will you help me?"

Alli was a little bit concerned that Sai was a werewolf, but it was too late now to worry. If the girl was a werewolf than Alli was in more danger than she could easily get herself out of. After all, they were sharing a cottage. Flein glared again when he saw them whispering. Alli stuck her tongue out.

"Apart from keeping Aimè and ourselves alive, I'm lost. No ideas from you?"

[Kath]

"Sure I'll help." Sai replied, turning her head to Alli's ear. "But as for ideas I really don't have any. Unless we can figure out some way to determine who are the wolves and who aren't I don't really see what we can do. I'd say lynch one of these newcomers every day. We only have to last out 3 days at most and that way the whole Offending Party stays alive. But to do that we'll have to convince the others that we're not werewolves and that they should go along with that idea."

She sighed and shook her head. It was a little hard to think with a dead body around and suspicious glares shooting all over the place. She wondered whether a meeting of two such stares would cause some kind of explosion, and then shook her head to rid herself of such useless thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I really have nothing. Maybe we should just stand back and see how this plays out. Oh, and maybe you shouldn't hit yourself. If we want the others to take us seriously it might help to play the part of a sane person."

[Celuien]

Celuien's post

Panakeia couldn't help being troubled by Elempí's gruesome and mysterious death. What a horrible way to die. She shuddered. At the sight of his corpse, her mind drifted back over their brief acquaintance.

"What's your name? What's wrong with your hair? Why do you wear so much make-up? I'll bet you're beautiful without it. Who's he?"

"What a lot of questions!" she had replied in exasperation. "Panakeia of Harad, nothing, because it's the only proper way to appear in public, I am, and," she looked around, "he's Valde Delago." Panakeia didn't think she liked him. Still smarting over her 0 points, she was not charitably disposed toward Anakron at the moment, nor was she inclined to appriecate the appearance of any of his alter-egos, no matter how friendly they might appear. Especially when he was criticizing her carefullly developed toilette.

Valde stood beside her. As he introduced himself to the odd newcomer, Panakeia took his arm, and felt a strange wave of nausea wash over her. "Strange," she muttered to herself. "Well, Valde, how goes it? I'm a little disappointed by the outcome of our last adventure, but it's nothing we can't overcome." The sick feeling rose with each word. "Nothing we can't beat as a team." That was too much. As delicately as possible, she turned her head to the side and leant over.

"Are you alright?" Valde and Elempí cried together.

Struggling to recover, Panakeia returned, "I don't know. I think so." Smiling at Valde as best as she could under the circumstances, she tried to say, "I'm fine as long as you're here," but couldn't make it past the "as long as" before giving into a wave of retching.

"There is something wrong. Maybe you'd better go rest awhile," Elempí offered kindly. Valde nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I think I will," she stammered. "I can't imagine what's wrong." She fled to hidden corner in the village Inn to rest.

And so she found Elempí the next morning, along with the rest of the village. For the first time in her life, Panakeia was truly frightened. She had heard tales of werewolves long ago, as a child in Harad, but had never thought of them as more than tales. Now it was terrifyingly real. And she didn't know what to do. Not being able to trust anyone was nothing new to her - she hadn't trusted anyone since she was 19 - but, just now, she wanted to be able to trust someone very badly. Valde? At the very thought, the queasiness returned to her. How very, very odd, she mused. I was fine a second ago.

Who was the most likely suspect? Panakeia was hardly inclined to doubt the other members of the Offending Party. After all, no strange deaths had followed the group until now. It had to be one of the newcomers. She looked them over, a hard glint in her eyes. One of them, a ragged, scruffy looking character, seemed more suspicious than the rest. It didn't help that he wore a tattered fur T-shirt and sat gnawing on a bloody bone. Nor did the signs he carried with him help his case. One read, "Dangerous Carnivore. Beware." The other said, "I'm a Werewolf! Lynch me! No he isn't. Yes he is. (Lynch rate: 67%)." This was the enigmatic Nilpaurion Felagund. And he seemed the best choice to Panakeia. Innocent or not, he was bound to cause confusion, and maybe even turn members of the Offending Party against each other, rightly or wrongly.

She heard Sai's suggestion: I'd say lynch one of these newcomers every day.

"Yes. That makes sense to me. No sense in turning against each other now. We have to get out of here." With a glare at Nilp, she turned to stand alongside Sai and Alli. "I won't be attacking anyone in our group. At least, not unless they attack me first."

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

Nilpaurion Felagund's post

'Ah, Nilp. Or is it Alice today? I seem to remember seeing an Emily recently... how goes it with you?'

'Blink blink,' the eyelids replied.

'Scratch scratch,' the head and hand asked in unison.

'Yawn,' the mouths opined.

And, then, one of them screamed.

He had suddenly been transported to . . . a pair of his eyes--the red one with three black dots in it--turned to a sign.

'Welcome to Dol Gaurgaurhothr.
Population: Changes pretty fast.'

'Blimey. I'm still stuck with this guy? I thought I left him in Mt. Doom,' someone to his left said. His head turned in that direction, but he saw only a drunk man wearing what looked to him like an aluminium head-dress--Aluminium Hatted Man, he named the character, aHM for short--, conversing with a small-pink clad monkey holding what seems to be a pistol. No, that couldn't have been them. Where did that voice come--

'I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?' a female voice to his right said. He turned to the direction of the voice again. But he saw only a male-type Man. Even if that man could speak in a female voice, it couldn't have been him. His vocal chords was at least two metres away from him. Plus, he was his airway was constricted by a looped rope hung from a strange wooden cantilever.

Then where are the voices coming from?

'Oh, look, a bone,' the female voice said, and he felt himself being dragged in a direction he didn't intend to go. Suddenly, he stopped, and he found himself sitting down. He heard the sounds of a nineteen year-old gnawing on a bloody sheep's shank to his right.

He felt someone glaring at him. He turned, and saw a middle-aged female mortal with blonde hair of a questionable shade. Her seemingly violet eyes, had they had mouths, would surely be screaming bloody murder.

'Would someone please lynch us?' the creepy voice to his left said aloud. 'I'd rather be dead than stuck with him like this.'

He suddenly recalled that voice. Once, he had heard it only in the confines of his mind. It was then he realised.

Nilpaurion had three faces.

'Hi, Fea! I'm here, Emily!' another familiar female voice said behind him.

Make that four. Oh, wearing glasses would be so difficult now . . . But his nearsightedness and astigmatism weren't his primary concern now.

How do I escape from here? he thought. Think, Nilpy, think!

'Wait a second,' yelped Sai--how did he know the name? 'Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!'

That's it! Hey, isn't that Ms. Sai Onara, the lass I met in Gondor while looking for a cure for multiple-personality disorder? Never mind that! So, what was my idea? Well, since I'm of the Elder race, dying would only bring me to Mandos, about a pleasant day's walk from my childhood home. Yeah, that's it! I just have to die. Nilpaurion's strange red eyes glanced from side to side, hoping that the physically manifest alter-egos would not notice the decision made in his mind by the other half-unnamed alter-egos that made up Nilpaurion Felagund's governing council. Now, how do I pull this off . . .

'Your attention, please!' he cried as he walked to the centre of the town quadrangle. There was a hush as all eyes turned to him, some screaming bloody murder in various degrees of violence, some snorting, 'What an attention-seeker!' while others just stared with their lower eyelids dropping as if they were jaws. Nilpaurion wasn't exactly a model Elf, or an Elven model for that matter, and the three new faces that suddenly sprouted on either side and the back of his head didn't help matters.

[At this point, the narrative brakes, and then shifts into poetic gear.]

Ascended Finrod's son and heir.
With dreadful voice he uttered there:
'Be you friend, or foe, or just a guest
Of Barrowdowns, or on a quest
To fare away from this sad part
Of Middle-earth, Dark Land's black heart,
Neither law, nor love, nor league of Hell,
Nor any Troll from Dunland Fell
May save you if you do not vote
For Nilpy Feg, with brains of oat;
For he is obviously a wolf--
Uh, wait a mo: What rhymes with 'wolf'?

[Here the poetic part ends, and the narrative continues.]

All eyes blinked at least once; some did so twice, and a few other thrice. When they had finished blinking, he saw something in their eyes that made him smile. They were all too ready to lynch him. But he frowned when he looked deeper. They only wanted to rid themselves of his atrocious poetry, which seemed to be on par with Vogonwë's (of Entish Bow fame). Hmph, not appreciating my poetry. I should send the lot of you to Mordor, or something. Hmmm, maybe I'll post about that later. Oh, never me mind that! They're about to lynch me, and I don't care for what the reason, so long as they do it.

But suddenly, Emily sidled into the conversation, 'What? What does all that mean?'

All eyes blinked again, and when they had opened, confusion replaced the anger they felt at his horrendous butchering of lyric Art (short for Arthur, of course). Not a few were muttering, 'What did he mean? Some troll from Dunland fell on a nilpy peg--what's a "nilpy" peg, anyway?--while eating oat bran?' He had lost his 'Lynch me!' momentum. He had to regain it. Nilpaurion grinned sheepishly, or rather like a sheep trying hard to look like a wolf hiding in a fluffy woolen pullover.

'What it means, my dear villagers, is that I'm a werewolf. You must lynch me, lest I destroy your village. If you do not vote for me, that means you're not trying to help this village, so I'll vote for you. Is that clear?'

'Hey, Mr. ModeVayor,' a female voice cried from behind Nilp, 'is multiple voting allowed?'

Before Anakron could answer, the creepy voice declared, 'If that's allowed, then let's just vote for Nilp an infinite number of times.'

'I don't know,' said another female voice, this time from Nilp's right, her voice dripping with sensibility, 'isn't death by lynching a bit painful?'

But she was ignored. No Seer was needed to see that; Alice was usually ignored by everyone. 'I vote for

++Nilpaurion Felagund

toDAY,' Adam said.

[Celuien]

The bizarre transformation from CoDzilla to CoD startled Panakeia. Even more so Alli's attempted conversation with the fish. What could Anakron possibly be up to now? Did CoD have special information about werewolves, being a movie monster himself, or was this just another distraction?

Suddenly, Nilp jumped to his feet. Throwing the bare, tooth-marked bone to the ground, he screamed, "I'm a werewolf! Can't you tell? Lynch me now." He pulled out a long quill pen. "Here, I'll make it easy for you." Nilp scratched a message into the dusty ground. ++NILPARION FELAGUND "I'll vote for myself." Then, Nilp's frame contorted wildly, engaged in a battle with itself.

"Stop that. You'll get us killed." His left hand reached to slap his right. And his right hand snatched his left.

"That's what I want, Adam."

"You're both crazy."

"Shut up, Alice."

As Panakeia stared, Nilp (Adam? Alice??) began to roll, writhing on the ground, mumbling and shouting incoherently.

"Do you see what I mean? We can't afford this distraction. I'm sure that some of you will want to attack SpaM. But at least he talks sense, even when rather, ahem, inebriated. So if he isn't a wolf, he can help us find them. Though some of those quiet ones are making me nervous, (she glared at those who had yet to speak) I really think we should get rid of Nilp now." Though she spoke with confidence, Panakeia really didn't like this business at all. It was with a heavy heart that she wrote

++NILPARION FELAGUND

on a sheet of paper left near the site of Elempi's demise. As she did so, Nilp left twisting on the ground, ran up, shook her hand and said, "Thank you." Panakeia groaned, almost certain that she was making a mistake. But it was too late now.

[Kath]

Sai watched in amusement as Alli conducted a somewhat one-sided conversation with the newly shrunk CoDzilla. She felt much more at ease now that there were more people who agreed with the idea of avoiding lynching any members of the Offending Party. However, it seemed that there were to be two lynchings each day now, and if none of those lynched were revealed to be wolves the focus might still turn inward.

But, if they were going to keep on with the idea of lynching the newcomers they were already doing well, with two votes for the schizoid Nilpaurion Felagund already - including one for himself!

Pulling a piece of paper and a pencil from her pocket, Sai quickly made a list of who was in the village and those votes that had already turned up, hoping that a bit of organisation might help them with this particular task.

Panakeia ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
CoD(zilla)
Alli
Fea
Nilpaurion Felagund ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
Wilhelmina
Aimè
Tom Felton
Mardil
SpaM
Fléin
Mormegil
Valde
Anakron

She wasn't sure whether Anakron was allowed to vote, but put him on the end just in case. Pulling Alli away from the pool and back to the group she showed them all the list.

"I suggest that we organise who will vote for who if we've got to do a double lynching. Panakeia, you've already voted for Nilpaurion Felagund so that's begun one bandwagon, but who should we start the other on?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea walked over and responded to Sai.

"I think that we should band-wagon Saucie. I mean... SpaM. See, it's tradition for me to fight for his early death. You can't break tradition, right? But my reasoning is better than that which I outwardly display: He's very clever. He could write us into a corner easily and we'd never know. If he's a wolf, we're not going to know it until it's too late. He'll never appear as anything but innocent... the only sure way to know is if he's killed, and we'd want that early since if he's lupine and we kill him late, he'll have had plenty of time to lay traps and manipulate our thoughts to where he wants them."

Alli was annoyed to realize that she agreed with Fea again. She spoke up.

"Fea's got a bit of a point. What we really need to know though, is if there's a Seer amongst us. I mean... I'm sure there's a Seer amongst--" she waved her arms to convey that she meant everybody in the village, "us, but if there's a Seer amongst us" Now she just meant the women present "then we could form a group as... wait... that'd be a bad idea. It would work perfectly if we were all innocent... but odds are, and knowing my luck, at least one of us is just asking to be killed."

"Kill me." laughed Fea.

"Shut it." snapped Alli.

Fea stuck out her tongue and Alli flipped her off. Fea laughed at her. Alli glared and considered smacking her. Fea was too irreverant for her liking. It was like she wasn't afraid of what anybody thought. That was good sometimes, but right now, people's thoughts dictated survival. Fea was being really stupid. Maybe she was just really tired.

"Fea, go to bed." Alli ordered. Surprisingly enough, Fea agreed. Sai and Panakeia (and a slightly nervous CoD that kept eying the water he was in dubiously) watched the argument curiously.

"Okay... good idea... I think I'm going to go take a nap now. I skipped the class that my alter-ego was supposed to go to for that purpose. I suppose I should carry it out."

With that, she disappeared into her cottage and within moments, the village could hear her muttering in her sleep.

[Kath]

"Ok. So we're going to try and get SpaM and Nilp lynched? I'm alright with that I suppose but what about mormegil? He clever and sober, and from what I've heard of him he's just as likely to try and take control over everything."

Instead of the calm discussion she hoped would follow, everyone suddenly started arguing. Accusations were flying between the females, some of them nothing to do with werewolvishness. Sai realised that no decision would be reached if this continued, so she stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Those in the near vicinity leapt backwards and stared at her in either astonishment or annoyance (depending on how close they'd been). Thankfully though, they all shut up.

"We're not going to get anywhere like this. How about a vote. All those who would prefer to lynch SpaM raise your right hand, and all those who want to raise mormegil raise your left hand."

She stood back a little and raised her left hand, and as she did so she saw the dwarf, Fléin, move towards the little group with his left hand raised.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Eomer sulked. He was in no mood to be particularly nice to anyone. Sure, he would be polite to them if any of them felt the need to talk to him, but there's a huge difference between being polite and being nice.

It appeared that this Anakron Wizard, or whatever the Angband he was, had turned some people into Werewolves, or some other convoluted plot. Eomer was fairly certain that he hadn't been affected by the magic, or whatever. How then could he find the Wolves, and be of assistance to the group? He spluttered in grim laughter as he thought this: Why on Middle-earth would he want to help others? What had they ever done for him other than make his life even more uncomfortable and unpredictable than it had been before? Nothing. He sat still and pouted.

He looked again at that blond chap, that 'Mormegil'. There was something about him; Eomer had a strange feeling about him, almost as if he had crossed swords with him before, in a dream perhaps? He was exceedingly wary of him. Look at him, bullying that 'SPM' fellow, trying to take control of the group. Very suspicious, Eomer thought. And there's always that 'Nilp' weirdo. Check him out, raw meat and blood dribbling down his chin; a wild look in his eyes. Kill him and improve the civility of this village at least.

And then he looked again at the young ladies in the group, specifically Alli, but he forgot not the glint in Fea's eye. If I were a Werewolf, Eomer thought, what would I do? Put on a cloak of fairness, of course. Try my utmost to 'feel fair' despite my evil interior. Well, those two are certainly actively employed in making themselves look fair....or maybe just hot. I suppose there is a difference—but the general intent could be equated.

I do wonder. Was that argument they had just for show? Are they trying too hard to look good? Are they....Werewolves?

Eomer knew this for certain. He was going to hide and try to discourage votes that way. He resumed sulking.

[the guy who be short]

Fléin watched the girls carefully over the next few hours. They had a little club, it seemed, but they couldn't all be wolves. Still... Sai and Alli kept whispering too each other, putting hands on shoulders and such. It was disconcerting. It was worrying.

So, when Sai suggested the lynching of mormegil, he was hardly in the mood to listen to her. Even if he wasn't a werewolf, Fléin could be quite sure mormegil wasn't a lesbian. Unless... no, he was just being paranoid. It was impossible! No, mormegil would live. He'd vote for either Sai or Alli.

He was just about to shout this out to the group, all of whom were arguing viciously amongst themselves, when he heard mormegil's voice rise over the hubbub. "Honestly, lynching me? The entire idea is as ridiculous as that stupid Bilbo!"

Fléin found himself suddenly quivering with rage. He could feel himself reddening. "What did you say?" he yelled at the apeman, rushing through the crowd to face him, shoving aside Sai and Valde in the process. "What did you say?" he spat in the mage's face.

"I said it was as silly as Bilbo, that stupid little hobbit who thought he was an el-"

"Stupid? Stupid?" One or two people around them were staring now, but Fléin certainly didn't care. "Do you know who that stupid hobbit was? What he was? Can that little ape brain of yours even contemplate the horrors he went through, the bravery with which he acted? The only Dwarf-friend in all history... STUPID?"

Mormegil had been paling visibly throughout the tirade, and was about to reply as unshakily as he could manage, but quickly checked himself as the Dwarf pulled his axe off his back and waved it in his face.

For his part, Fléin was more than ready to gut mormegil now for the dishonour. Unfortunately, just as he was about to do so, a piercing whistle nigh deafened him, and he turned around to face the source of the interruption.

Needless to say, he found himself in accord with the potential lesbian and threat to family values and ideals on the subject of mormegil. So rash was he, that he voted immediately, loud and clear for all to hear. Mormegil must die.

++Mormegil

Behind him, he heard SPaM agree with him, and he too cast his vote for the hideous apeman. "Now wait a second," mormegil argued, "how can we trust that drunkard? His vote should be repealed on grounds of inebriation!"

"Shame!" the Dwarf roared, and all turned to look at him. "Shame on you, mormegil Apeson, for the lies you spin. You would accuse SPaM here, when all can see that he is perfectly incapable of murder."

"But-"

"Do not interrupt me!" the Dwarf raged, temporarily assuming the form of a mad axeman. "Not only is he completely drunk, he's covered in bathtubs! How do you think he could even move around with that weight on his shoulders? Impossible! Next you'll suggest the Sun is at fault for setting on this cursed village."

Mormegil had nothing to say in his defence.

"Well, if that's settled, I'll be back in two hours. I have a project to be getting on with," Fléin stated and walked off. The rest of the village watched him leave the little settlement and walk straight into the surrounding forest. Some regarded this as a sign of wolvery, some of insanity. Only Wilhelmina and SPaMfully trusted his sanity and dwarvery, though neither of them were hugely reliable sources on sanity.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordim laughed to see the villagers run about in such confusion at the sudden turn of events. It was a deep laugh, like that of a large dog-like creature, which quickly turned into something very much like a howl. He hid the sound with the back of his furry hand. At first this raised many eyebrows, both Spockian and not, but Fordim was quick to point out that he did have the head and countenance of a pug, and that it was to be expected that he would from time to time sound like a member of the genus canus.

He sat upon the ground and surveyed those gathered about, assessing who or what might be a werewolf.

Panakeia he decided could not be a wolf just because of the way she looked.

CoD(zilla) probably was a wolf just because of the way he looked.

Alli: wolf.

Fea : wolf. Or maybe innocent. Could be the cobbler. Possibly even the seer. Maybe the hunter.

Nilpaurion Felagund : innocent but slippery: should probably be hanged.

Wilhelmina: wolf.

Aimè: Scottish -- deserves to hang whether wolf or not. Haggis!? Deep-fried Mars Bars?!?!?

Tom Felton: never heard of him. Hang him.

Mardil: wolf.

SpaM: who knows...who cares...

Fléin: probably innocent but maybe not. Good candidate for a hanging either way.

Mormegil: definitely a wolf.

Valde: never heard of the man...probably can't be trusted.

Anakron: wolf! wolf!

Realising that he had got nowhere with his thinking Fordim did what he always did when confused in a game of werewolf:

++THE SAUCEPAN MAN

He then wandered off to find a fire hydrant, or a convenient tree, both of which, he found, were in short supply in Mordor....

[Hookbill the Goomba]

“Well, I’m a cobbler,” said the rather defensive Hookbill as he moved behind a chair away from one of the villagers. “I’ve been here for three years. I’m not a new character, or even a cameo.”

“Then why,” enquired the villager, “does your post title say ‘Hookbill’s Cameo?’”
The little man stopped and thought. Too many questions so early in the morning, only four o’clock pm! Did these people have no respect? “You’re not supposed to be able to see that.” He mumbled eventually looking at his shoes and seeing an interesting pattern in the creases of the leather.

“Well, I don’t like this,” continued the villager, now getting rather annoyed, “You had better not meet me again, or you’ll be sorry.” The villager stormed out leaving footprints in the floorboards and breaking the door as it was closed. Hookbill slowly sunk to the ground and hummed to himself until a brick flew through his window and hit him on the head.
Awaking some time later, Hookbill found a note attached to the brick, ‘Shut up’ was written on one side. On the other was ‘Welcome to Dol Gaurgauroth. Please enjoy our snack bars’. He sighed and got back to work.

[littlemanpoet]

Anakron slouched in his lazyboy, fanning himself with a left over piece of autograph paper taken from a fangirl corpse.

"Tut tut!" he said. "This is all getting rather undemonstrative. Where is the famed Alli? Where has Fea gotten off to? The Tragic Lead Actor has been rather quiet. And Mardil has been conspicuously quiet ever since he flamed up suspicion against Fea. Aimé is hiding again, and Fordim has gone sniffing after strangely scented opinion polls, no doubt.

"But that is nothing, my listeners, to compare with your sudden lack of creative imagination as compared with the last three challenges. What has come over you? The threat of death instead of mere failure to leave? What difference does that make?

"Assume nothing!"

Anakron lapsed into silence after this mirthful diatribe. The remaining villagers eyed him with obvious malice, clearly wishing they could lynch him. Anakron grinned as he snacked.

[the phantom]

"Well, Mardil, when are you going to cast your vote?" asked Eomer, flopping down beside Mardil during a village recess. "You're the one, after all, who led the way in accusing Fea."

Mardil took out one of his knives and began twirling it. "Oh, I suppose I'll go ahead and vote when everyone gets back."

"For Fea?" asked Tom Felton, scooting over closer to join in the conversation.

"No, probably for CoD," answered Mardil.

"Why not Fea?" asked Tom.

"For one thing, she's almost certain to get lynched anyway. Second, she's hot."

"I know what you mean, Mardil," agreed Eomer. "There's a shortage of hot women in the world. It would be a pity to damage one so hot as that without absolute proof."

"But she's as likely as anyone to be a wolf!" said Tom. "The object here is to kill wolves, not keep ladies alive. We need to vote for her."

"I'm sorry, Tom," argued Eomer, "But my noble Scottish spirit simply will not allow me to kill a young damsel without more proof than this."

"You're Scottish?" asked Tom, noticing Eomer's kilt for the first time.

"Of course," answered Eomer.

Tom leapt away from him in disgust. "I can't believe I was talking with a Scot- filthy mudblood! Wait till my father hears they're letting Scots into Mordor." Tom stomped off mumbling curses under his breath.

"What in the world was that about?" said Eomer in surprise.

"Oh, it's probably just in-a-rut-casting syndrome," answered Mardil. "It happens to actors who really only play one role all the time- they begin to, out of habit, act like their onscreen characters in real life."

"How horrible," shuddered Eomer.

"Yes, yes," agreed Mardil. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go get something to eat. When I get back, I'll cast my vote for ++CoD."

"Wait, wait!" called Eomer as Mardil began walking away. "Before you go I want your opinion on something. Since you aren't voting for Fea, does that mean you like her werewolf summoning plan?"

Mardil started laughing and turned back to look at Eomer. "Her plan would be excellent if not for the fact that she summoned far too many wolves. The amount of wolves she summoned, if incorporated into the village, would lead to an instant werewolf victory since there would be more wolves than innocents. Right now the count is nine innocents and three wolves. If we're going to summon wolves, we wouldn't want to summon any more than five, and we'd need to then lynch two of them today, but seeing as so many votes have already been cast, I don't think we could pull that off."

"So you think it would be foolish to support the plan?"

"Most definitely," said Mardil emphatically. "Now, I really need to go. If I don't hurry, I won't be back in time for the start of the next round of arguments."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli sat alone and unhappy on the outskirts of the group. She wanted to sit by Sai... the only one that she felt she could trust in this whole group... but she was by Mardil. Fea was still gone... it was a good thing, truth be told. Alli wasn't sure if she could handle her emotions at this point.

Now Illamatar arrived, clad in purple spandex and baaing fiercly. Alli looked around and was passively miffed that nobody else could see him.

"You know, O Lord, that if people keep seeing me converse with empty space, they'll call me a loony and kill me?"

Illamatar looked at her with pity.

"Do you really think they care what you're doing?

"Way to crush a girl's confidence, O Lord. What have you to tell me now?"

"Jennifer Lopez has been rendered harmless."

"What?" Alli was confused. Since when were a pair of buttocks considered dangerous? And what in the world did this have to do with anything?

"She is harmless. The girl with whom you travel has taken care of her unwittingly."

"You mean that Sai is innocent?"

"Of course."

"But... I don't understand... J.Lo. isn't in the game... she just happened to..." Alli stopped, something dawning on her. Shortly after her epiphany, she looked at Illamatar.

"Do you understand?" he baaed.

"Sai is innocent of all crimes in Mordor. J.Lo. has been rendered innocent though she does not play in this game. Mario...?"

"A bloody great threat to the world. You must ally yourself with the Scotsman."

"I'll take care of it. But what does Sai have to do with my side-plot?"

"You'll figure it out."

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

Rather far away, in another dimension, in another time, place, and thought process, Fea had rather been enjoying herself. After she disappeared, she'd gone to a gathering of friends, expecting laughs, but not the boys that arrived.

Her night had grown longer than she'd expected after this, infused with laughter, flirting, and stories by starlight until past midnight, when she decided that homework was in order and socialization for the day was at an end. She'd meant to return to the village quickly, but she had to admit that this diversion had really been a lot of fun.

Now, after classes were over and the opposite sex was sufficiently out of her mind, Fea returned to the little Mordorian village and wondered about her previous logic at releasing a bunch of werewolves on an already werewolf-infested village.

She looked around, catching a lethal glance from Sai. She had to give the girl credit... she certainly stood by her friend. Though at the moment she sat by the guy that her friend was upset over. Fea wondered what was going through Alli's head. She wondered what was going through Sai's head. She especially wondered what was going through Flein's head. What was going through Mardil and Aimè's heads was easy to figure out... if they were any more obvious, there would be a stream of drool involved.

She casually stood, twirling a heavy staff. While she didn't have as much strength as would be needed to defend herself against the entire village, she suspected that she wouldn't require it. She knew that she would soon die... she had accepted it as soon as the phantom had requested permission to accuse her of guilt. But she wasn't going to go easily. She was going to do something to make the Offenders gasp in shock. She didn't know what it was yet, but she hoped pretty hard it wouldn't end up being anticlimactic.

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

Tom was busy in his little bit of space moping over his recent encounter with a Scotsman. Aimè was the enemy in his book. He wondered if Aimè knew why Tom hated him so much and wished him so much ill will... it didn't matter. What did was that he could not speak with nor look at the Scotsman without feeling a certain growling menace unfold deep within him. He was pretty certain that it had something to do with the way Aimè was now eyeballing Sai.

Aimè couldn't have Sai... Tom wanted her.

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

Alli saw Fea as soon as Illamatar disappeared. She hated her with a passion. Arrogant. She was arrogant. And the worst part was, she was perfectly well allowed to have such a high opinion of herself because everything that she believed of herself was true. It was most annoying. She seemed to believe that she could get everything she wanted.

Well... maybe she could and maybe she couldn't, but apparently she was capable of getting exactly what Alli wanted, even though Alli couldn't manage it.

It didn't matter any more... she would soon die. Alli would soon die... Mardil would soon die...

Life is short and full of pain, she thought. Fleeting... grief-stricken... nobody is meant to be happy, least of all me.

She fell into a bit of despair over the trust that Illamatar had placed in her as well as the basic stress of having to keep yourself alive on your path along your only chance of ever finding your way back home while being somewhat in love with a guy with whom nothing seemed to be going right and who apparently had been undressed in a confined space with another girl very recently. Silent tears forced their way through her stubbornly focused eyes. Her whole body shook as she tried to repress her emotions. Finally, she gave way to the tears and curled up defensively as she cried, hoping that Illamatar was right when he said that nobody cared what she did.

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

Tom strode over to Sai, offering his hand and when she made to shake it, brushing hers with his lips. She blushed slightly and Tom grinned deep inside.

"Will you work with me, pretty girl, to rid the world of werewolves?"

His charm seemed at first to be working. He was well pleased with himself. Sai's attention suddenly shifted. She pulled her hand from his and went to Alli. She put her arms around her friend and whispered soothingly as Alli sobbed into her shoulder.

"It's okay, Alli... it's okay... it'll all be okay..."

"No..." she sniffed. "I don't understand it. I mean... I understand it, but how can he expect me to... how can I possibly measure up? I can't take the pressure. I'm not good enough. I'm so afraid... I'm so afraid..."

Sai had no idea what was going through Alli's mind, but she suspected that she was comparing herself... possibly to Fea. Unsure of what to say, Sai fell silent. She held Alli as the girl released all of her bottled up emotion through flowing tears.

"Now then," said Sai quietly once Alli had finally stopped weeping. "Didn't that make you feel better?"

"I suppose..." she sniffed, her head on her friend's shoulder. "But even with the emotion gone... I still have to find a way... I still have to... I'll never be able to live unless I see this through. It's too important for me to ignore. I've never felt this way before. I've never felt like I had a purpose... a special role in life. I never thought that I would need Aimè like I do. Who would have ever thought?'

Sai was truly confused now. Surely she meant Mardil? Surely Alli was in love with him and had broken down over his seeming indiscretions with Fea?

"You... you mean Mardil, right dear?" she asked hesitantly.

Alli looked at her and another tear leaked out. She wiped it away impatiently.

"No... I meant Aimè. I must speak with him. And it must be privately... I have so much to tell him."

[Kath]

Sai was now completely, utterly and totally confused. So confused in fact she was even willing to use three words that meant the same thing in one sentence. First she and Alli had walked in on Mardil and Fea doing . . . something. Not being one to judge Sai had been as restrained as possible with Mardil after Alli had run off, and was glad for the reprieve from taking the moral high ground when he presented her with Fea’s book of wolvery. Then there was Fea and her conjuring of past wolves. Sai wasn’t sure whether she had really thought that would help her case or whether she had simply given in to the insane impulses within her. Then Tom with his sickenly charming behaviour toward her. She couldn’t believe she had nearly fallen for it, and had been extremely glad when Alli had suddenly collapsed as it gave her an excuse to get away, even if her escape was accompanied by yet another ominous glare from Fléin.

Not that she was glad Alli had collapsed of course. The poor girl was obviously distraught over something though Sai couldn’t get a word of sense out of her. She had assumed all day that Alli’s foul mood had been caused by the event with Mardil and Fea earlier, as well as having to deal with the two of them on their own. But now she was going on about Aimè and having to get him alone to talk to.

Whatever the case Alli certainly wasn’t going to stay still until she had got what she wanted. Hating to see her friend upset like this Sai pulled Alli to her feet and led her off in the vague direction that she had last seen Aimè heading in. Coming across him after only a few moments she left Alli with him and headed back to the circle, again ignoring the glances the guy was sending her way.

She stood for a while in front of the sticks and stones that had been steadily added to that day, and tried to work out what she should do. There hadn’t been many votes so far and for that she was glad. The fact that their two lynchees the day before had both been innocents had shocked her. She thought it was perhaps a kindness that Nilp was dead, he had seemed a pretty unstable sort of chap, and morm would have continually irritated her until she would have been glad to see him dead, so maybe it was better this way. Nevertheless with who knew how much time they had left in this place (well, except Anakron who didn’t really seem in the mood to share – you could tell he had siblings) she would have preferred that two wolves had died. At the very least she would have felt safer.

Sighing, Sai sat down and waited for Alli to return. While she would never listen in on a private conversation, she did want to know what on earth all this with Aimè was about, and why Alli kept having conversations with thin air. That comment she’d make about trying to look sane had obviously not sunk in, and Sai was sure that a lot of these troubles had begun with the arrival of Fea. Rolling her stone around between her palms, she stared at Fea’s stick, and wondered whether it might be better for all concerned if she were to be lynched today.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli spoke hurriedly to Aimè, filling him in on everything that had been going through her head before her epiphany and everything that she was now certain of. She was very relieved that Sai hadn't stuck around... while Illamatar had mentioned her innocence, Alli wasn't yet certain just what her place in the side-plot was. Nevertheless, Alli had hugged her tight before she left, whispering "Thank you." in her ear.

Now she looked at Aimè who seemed a little shell-shocked at the suddenness of everything.

"Does it all make sense now?" she asked.

He looked at her oddly. "No."

She explained it all once more, using smaller words. He looked at her oddly again, using narrower eyes.

"And you're certain of all of this?"

"Yes."

"How do I know that this isn't a joke meant to play me as a fool?"

"You must trust me. No... I would never accept that as proof. Here... a token, to show that I mean what I say."

They chatted for a bit longer, making clear to the general audience that the writer was going to hang on to the suspense as long as possible by keeping details under lock and key.

Aimè held the small object up to the light, keeping it tucked into his palm and out of sight of all others. Finally he smiled and threw his arm around Alli who grinned happily.

"So we'll need a way to let each other know when it happens. Something that people won't expect..."

Aimè pondered for a moment before speaking.

"I love you."

"Pardon?"

"I love you, Alli, I love you. It's a good way of putting it, don't you think?"

"Aimè, it's perfect... especially when you say it in that accent of yours. I don't think I can mimic the accent, but the phrase works quite excellently. And when either of us says it, we'll know for certain, correct? No saying it except unless we really mean it?"

"But you'll know before I will."

"That's true, maybe, but I trust your intuition. You understood the importance of the little fat Italian hobbit before I understood aything. You might just realize other such important things before I do. Shall we practice?"

"I love you, Alli."

"I love you, Aimè."

And so they walked back to the group, their plans still secret, with confident grins and the words "I love you" still floating mysteriously between them.