[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli had slept through the night and woke up rather irritably the next morning. She had no idea where in Mordor she was but the tent in which she seemed to be located was full of sleeping Offenders. She resisted the urge to kick the prone Mardil (barely) and wasn't all together happy with Sai either, though she at least felt no violent inclinations toward her.

Leaving the tent, she sat shivering and watched the sun rise, taking deep soothing breaths. She wanted to go back and find out what it was that Roggie had been trying to tell her but she had no idea where she was or how to find him. A few tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt lonelier than usual, even for being in Mordor. She was in the middle of a terrifying new city with nobody for company but strangers that were prejudiced against her friends. Roggie was hurt and wingless and she couldn't do anything to put him to rights. Mardil, whom she had just been starting to like, had allowed her to be drugged. She missed her family and her friends from home... she really just wanted to go home. She sat on the cold ground hugging her knees, crying softly as the sun broke the horizon, staining the dirty grey sky an almost pretty shade of dirty salmon. Suddenly she heard a noise.

Anakron stood before her. "Up. There are things to be done." He walked away as the rest of the Offending Party began to gather, all looking remarkably bleary eyed. Alli hastily rubbed her eyes free of all traces of upset and joined the group once more, pointedly ignoring Sai and especially Mardil. They both looked at her concernedly but she pretended, hopefully convincingly, to be far more interested in the state of her fingernails. She picked at her chipped black nail polish. They probably think I'm some annoyingly weak and angsty emo-kid or something. Well let them. See if I care.

Of course she did care... they just didn't need to know it. It was easier to lie than to admit that she was vulnerable. Now Anakron gave his instructions. Alli looked at the selection of vehicles and decided instantly. The moment he stopped speaking, she pushed her way to a little French car with no guts, loaded it with spares, and opened the door. There was a man sitting in the passenger's seat holding a kamura. "No freaking way." she muttered. "Get out of my car." she ordered. "You aren't coming."

Anakron tapped her on the shoulder and sneered aristocratically down at her. "Yes. He is. And this van will be following."

She set her jaw, about to argue the point when she decided against it. She got into the driver's seat (turning orcish immediately) and apparently from nowhere, Lûgnût appeared. He didn't speak. Alli looked at him quizzically for a moment before shaking her head and ignoring him completely.

Now what do I do first? she thought, the kamura lightly humming just enough to annoy her. There was a small red light on the side of it that kept flashing. She felt the urge to throw it out the window when inspiration struck. Well... first I must get my driver's license. She put her seat-belt on and adjusted the mirrors. She turned the key in the ignition and to her surprise, it actually worked. And then it didn't. The car died where it sat. Jumping out of it (and transforming back into her usual form), she fumbled with the thing until the hood popped open. A rather large amount of smoke that seemed to convey the idea that something wasn't quite working right poured upward like a demented coffee pot defying gravity. She coughed and her eyes watered. She had no idea what to do so she kicked the car a few times and, much to her even bigger surprise, the smoke cleared and the car began to run smoothly in very unorthodox circles around the parking lot. She assumed that she'd better go catch it, but before she could, Lûgnût descended upon her with a small piece of paper-like substance with a picture of a suicidal monarch decorating it. Alli grinned, thinking along political lines, and then realized that her grin was a bit maniacal, not at all appropriate, and that if she got caught snickering over regicide, even if she escaped from Mordor, she'd be locked up. That sobered her and she noted that her name, Alumìne Umfuìl, was emblazoned on it with her date of birth, her eye color, and a lot of truly pointless information such as her favorite brand of mobile phone and the name of the last boy she had after-date paranoia with, and it all typed neatly in bubbly comic sans lettering.

"Your licence, madame." offered Lûgnût with a bow. Alli had no idea just what she had done to deserve her driver's licence. That was ridiculously easy, she thought, now putting her brilliant scheme into action. She went to the passenger side door (on the right of the car, no less), and pulled the filmer out of it. She then forcefully led him to the driver's side and shoved him in front of the wheel, taking the kamura from him. "You drive." As he began to protest, she whispered a long and quickly spoken message into his ear about the state of the company he kept and how he'd be judged by it, his former profession as a scary professor, the fact that he makes his kids practice job interviews with him, and the way she had seen the used handkerchief in his pocket and wasn't afraid to tell the world about it. His eyes grew wide and he handed her the kamura without hesitation. She climbed un-orcishly into the passenger's seat, happy that since she wasn't driving, she wasn't an orc. He climbed in and his body took grotesque form. She flicked the switch of the kamura and began talking into it as the little car peeled out of the parking lot that had been paved once paradise was destroyed, spraying Mardil with mud, and jumping a few curbs. Ignoring the bumps and jostles, and happy to get away from her companions, she spoke.

"You want reality?" she asked the kamura, ignoring the road. "This is reality. My companions are idiots. Not all of them... that Valde is pretty hot. Sai's a nice girl. But the rest? Morons. Especially Mardil. I couldn't be happier than if I never saw him again. And Anakron... where does he get off telling us what to do? He's probably being paid by Gondor's oppresive government. Have you seen the way he represses us? Some watery tart probably jumped out of a lagoon and handed him that staff. Real legit basis for leadership, that." Alli turned the kamura to the road and took a few seconds feed of the landscape. Craters broke the ground every few feet. "The reality of life here is that it sucks. You want beauty? Look for stars at night through the clouds that never leave this place." She pointed the kamura at the moodily dark sky. She then turned the kamura back toward herself as the engine began to sputter. "And I'll bet that you are all idealistic enough to believe that even in Mordor, love can flourish. Well you're all a bunch of idiots too. Love is for the people who are too weak-minded to accept that life sucks and then you die. There always has to be something for you to strive for. Well quit striving. Following your dreams will get you alone and friendless here." There was a pregnant pause in her bitter monologue. "[deleted]." she muttered. "The car just died." She turned off the kamura and got out of the passenger's side, popping the hood open again. This time the smoke was followed by flames. The kamuraman got out of the car (returning to human form) and yelled for Alli to run. For the first time in her life, she didn't question this.

She grabbed her bag and sprinted just in time to be propelled upward, outward, and finally downward into the unforgiving ground by the explosion of the small car whose full tank of gas had just decided that being trapped in a tank wasn't what it felt like doing. As the bald tires kept burning, Alli glared at the vehicle, the kamuraman, and the world. "[deleted]" she muttered and sat moodily on a large rock, contemplating what to do next. The yellow van pulled up and set up a tripod, recording with few visual flaws, the girl sitting. One kamuraman offered her the yellow van to drive, but just then, the transmission fell off of it. Alli couldn't be certain, but she was pretty sure transmissions were important.