[Kransha]

A lot happened in the next few moments, one of those happenings being the shock and awe inspired by a misfired rocket, one of the many sparkling beauties that illuminated the sky just a few moments prior. Kransha had been conversing politely with Roa while his Balrog counterpart engaged in discourse with Bethberry, another renowned figure at the party. Kransha, already a bit unsettled by the rocket, discontinued his conversation as he eyed a gleaming shard of sterling silver that was his pocket watch. He lifted it by a delicate, precisely forged chain and eyed the ticking, rhythmically moving hands of the thing, which rotated around a tiny picture of the Eye of Sauron (standard issue pocket watch for Gorgoroth Community Serviceorcs). He bit his lip nervously and kept taking nervous glances at the far off gates of the Party Field,

“Is something troubling you, Kransha?” bellowed Fordim, not meaning to bellow but bellowing anyway.

“Fordim, something burdens me.” Replied Kransha, not looking at his quizzical friend and instead keeping his orc gaze fixed, “I have a bit of a secret which I’m not to wont to reveal, much to my shame. But, as that time draws near, I think I must do just that. By the Eye, Fordim, I really must tell someone. I need to find someone of authority. If you’ll excuse me.”

Before either Fordim or Roa could say anything, the well-postured orc headed off towards the most authoritative figure he could see, one of the people in charge, as far as he knew, Piosenniel. She was obviously busy, but he’d expected that. As much as his problem seemed trivial, he really felt it necessary to make it clear that there was not going to be a sudden incursion into the Shire by Sauron’s leftover hordes. Nervously and carefully, he gained the elf’s attention with a curt tug to the sleeve.

“Mistress Piosenniel, ma’am, forgive the disturbance, but there’s something I really need to get off my chest…or back…or what you will.”

“You should know, madam…Yes, you really should know…After I took in these festivities, it came to my attention that I was the only member of my demographic present at this little gala, so I took the liberty of extending a few invitations…invitations to members of that demographic…mine, that is…Point in fact, they should be coming along any time now, since they remarked to me that they’d be here roughly 13 hours and 26 minutes ago, have a record of being exactly 13 hours and 28 minutes late…as orcs always are. I really do hope the Wight doesn’t mind the presence of my cousins (you see, I’m not entirely sure they are my cousins, but you can never tell). It’s just a few orcs…20 or so, perhaps…I’ll keep them from getting in the way, I assure you. In fact, I’ve heard that the great Wight has lost one of the mathoms presented him…I’m sure my cousins would jump at the opportunity to help you with the finding of the responsible knave or knavette…They have very good noses for that sort of thing. If you wish, or the Wight wishes, I will send them on their merry way…I admit, I have not the courage to face him, the Barrow Wight, that is. Some very bad rumors about our friend populate the Cirith Ungol gossip column. I would have addressed him personally, but…well, you know.”

As if on cue, a sound could be heard in the distance. Though muffled by crowd noises, it was very distinct, and sounded like a mixture of metallic screeching, raucous laughter, and Kransha’s all-too-familiar belching. Flitting in shadowy form through the crowd, dark figures in a huddled mass could be seen scurrying mysteriously past some cowering and/or cringing Halflings. Kransha sighed and took a full breath, which echoed in his orc gizzard, as he saw the other uruks putter along toward him and Piosenniel.

“Oh yes, that’ll be them right now.”