[Formendacil]

As the third day following the death of Formendacil drew to a close, the village was no closer to having definitely ousted a Werewolf than it had been any of the days previous. Of course, most of the villagers were quite certain that they had found a Werewolf, but persuading people that their pet theories were rational and right was about as easy as pulling teeth…

One of the most popular theories of the day was that if Nilpaurion was so insistent on proclaiming himself a carnivore, then they ought to give him what he was asking for, and lynch him. Even if he was innocent, the proponents of that opinion reasoned, it would clear up a lot of the confusion, and possibly shine a light on the Werewolves’ voting pattern. And so what if there were still two Werewolves in the village? The ranger, whoever he or she was, had protected them the night before.

Even as the villagers did their best to remain rational and discerning, the pressure they had been under for several days was beginning to tell. Amanaduial and Rune were not speaking to each other. The Guy Who Be Short, who was normally a cheerful and talkative fellow, had become rather sullen and silent. Valier had taken to drinking, joining Azaelia in the town “drunk tank”- except that Azaelia, under the stress, had sworn off drink, and was actually succeeding in having less than four ales a day. Lhunardawen was perhaps the one most affected, for she had started to howl, as if she were a wolf, and had begun to laugh at just about any suggestion made.

“It must be a sign of wolfishness,” said Naria spitefully, since Lhuna’s pet theory of the day had been that Naria was a Werewolf.

“I think it’s just heredity,” said Farael. “It’s not that different than Nilp’s carnivore fixation.”

“Then they’re both Werewolves,” said Malkatoj. “Problem solved. Let’s lynch them.”

“Now, now!” said Valier. “Tha’s againsht the rulesh… On’y one pershon a day!”

“Drunk though she is,” said Gurthang, “that is what we decided when this crisis started! Anyone who wants to change it must be a Werewolf looking to kill off more Villagers.”

“Are you calling me a Werewolf?” demanded Malkatoj.

“If he is, so what?” said Kuruharan. “There’s something about you that doesn’t sit right with me…”

“If you don’t care for my personal philosophy, say so!” replied the professor. “What that has to with the situation at hand, I don’t know!”

“You can learn a lot about people by looking at what they believe in,” said Alcarillo.

“Yes, and don’t think I haven’t been watching you, Mr. Moneybags!” retorted Kuruharan.

In the end, although about half of the village did not support a bandwaggon to lynch Nilpaurion, their votes were scattered and not a single one of their candidates came close to the number of votes that Nilpaurion garnered.

And so the village marched him up to the noose, and placed it around his neck.

“Any last words, Werewolf?” said Meneltarmacil.

“I am a carnivore, not a Werewolf,” declaimed Nilpaurion proudly. “I am no more harmful than the carnivorous ranch dog that keeps Gurthang company at night. I want the entire village to know that I go to my death with my head upright and my conscience clear, knowing that I die for a noble cause, to help my friends and neighbours find the vile killer that killed the noble Formendacil, and have since gone on to kill the village.

“I die knowing that I have done all I can to help in this matter, that I have lived a good and upright life, that I have no shirked my duty or hid in the face of danger, that I have, in fact, braved the dangers of teasing my silly Lhunatic sister. I go knowing that my memory shall not be soiled by unseemly work or unnecessary seriousness, but that I have done my foremost to spread goofiness, oddity, and good-hearted fun.

“I ask the forgiveness of the Valar and of the One Himself: Eru, whom I dare name in my last hour, that all of you who have voted for me in good faith shall come under no cruel judgement in the hereafter as a result, but that when we are all reunited in Arda Remade, that we shall remember these times with amusement, and all sorrow be forgotten.

“I consign my spirit to the judgement of the Valar, and I go forth from the Circles of Arda knowing that when the Second Music is sung, and Arda Remade created, that I shall run with Huan and the Hounds of Oromë, and follow the cry of the Valaróma. May Elbereth protect you all from the Wolves of Sauron!”

“Are you done yet?” growled Kuruharan.

“Yes, I think that’s about it. Does anyone have a message for me to pass on to Formendacil, Gil-galad, or Eluchíl?”

The village looked at him stonily.

“I’m done,” he said to his executioners.

The box was kicked out from beneath his feet, the rope when taut, and Nilpaurion was dead. Nothing happened.

“He’s not a Werewolf,” said Amanaduial, “he’s just an ORDINARY VILLAGER.”

“Oh, Nilp…” said Lhuna. “You IDIOT!”

DAY 3 is over, NIGHT 4 has begun.

Werewolves, Ranger, and Seer, I need your nightly picks.

~Michael A. Joosten - WW XVI Moderator~