[the phantom]

Mardil paced from wall to wall in his jail cell. It was small- three steps, turn, three steps, turn. A psychologist was supposed to arrive at 4:00 to give him his psych eval, and Mardil was anxious to get it over with. A lone orc stood outside his cell sharpening a knife.

"What time is it?" Mardil asked.

"You still have another ten minutes to wait," grunted the orc.

Mardil closed his eyes and leaned against the wall with a groan. Time was barely moving.

"Don't go groaning and moaning," said the orc. "You could've had this taken care of hours ago if you would've just left with Anakron. I can't figure why in the world you want to stay here in jail."

"I have my reasons," said Mardil. Mardil sat down on the cell's little cot and began to polish his favorite knife, though it didn't really need it.

"I'm going to get a drink. I'll be back," said the orc. Mardil ignored him and continued polishing his knife.

Right after the orc left, there was a sudden popping sound and Mardil found that there was someone else in the cell. He looked up, and standing right in front of him was the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, Denethor IV.

"Father?!"

"Hello, Mardil," said Denethor, sitting down beside Mardil on the cot.

"But how-"

"How am I here? Oh, it's rather simple. There's some sort of parent versus children battle going on here, and so all parents of residents of Mordor can pop in to see their children, so long as they intend on fighting with them a bit, or at least criticizing them."

"So you're here to criticize me?" asked Mardil.

"Yes, yes, I have to. It's part of the rules." Denthor smiled at his son. "But before I criticize, let me just say that I'm very glad to see you," he said, putting his arm around Mardil's shoulders. But as he did this, he began to fade. "Oops," he said, withdrawing his arm. "I must be getting too nice. Anakron told me if the parents and their offspring got along too well the parent would disappear back out of Mordor."

"All right. Well, what do you have to say, father. I haven't got long until my psych eval."

"Yes, I know. Well, as far as criticism- what is with you and the ladies?" asked Denethor.

"What do you mean?" returned Mardil. "I thought I was rather good with them. I mean, did you see on television how I got that werewolf book away from that Fea girl? Now that was a nice bit-"

"I wouldn't call that nice at all!" scowled Denethor. "Sure you got the book, but you led that poor girl on. I'm sure after a couple of weeks with no calls from you, she's beginning to wonder if you really meant everything you said."

"She doesn't matter. She's not even from this world. I mean- she's not real," argued Mardil, turning away from his father.

"And what about that TA?" continued Denethor. "You really did a number on her, just to get an A in a class!"

"She'll get over it, mumbled Mardil.

"So that makes it all right?" asked Denethor.

"Why do you care?" asked Mardil, annoyed.

"Why don't you?" countered Denethor.

"Why should I?" shot back Mardil.

"You used to," answered Denethor. "Mardil wasn't cruel."

"He is now," said Mardil, now thoroughly over his initial happiness at seeing his father.

"You mean you are- not Mardil," Denethor said, poking Mardil in the chest.

"I thought I was Mardil."

"Oh no you're not. You're a bitter, angry young man," said Denethor, poking Mardil in the chest again.

"I think I have the right to be," argued Mardil.

"Not anymore, you don't." Denethor stood and spread his arms wide. "You're about to leave Mordor! You're about to pick up your life again! You'll be able to see your friends and family again- everything and everyone you love!"

"Not everyone," said Mardil through gritted teeth, but his father didn't hear him.

"You should be acting like Mardil II, the future Steward of Gondor!" declared Denethor, "Or possibly the future you-know-what," he added with a smile. "But enough criticism. You were always a good lad. I know once you get back you'll rectify your behavior. But now, we have business to discuss. Everything is prepared. I have a couple thousand men hidden up on the south side of the valley, less than a ten minute march from here. If something goes wrong and they aren't letting you out of Mordor, I'll be there with my men to cover your escape. Now, your message said you already had your escape route planned?"

"Yes, father," said Mardil confidently. "I'm sure that Anakron already told you that I have access to all of Khamul's power, henchmen, and information, right? Well, this cell that I'm in- one of Khamul's top men was in here once, and Khamul had him snatched from out of here by means of a tunnel. The authorities never found it, so it's still here, and I know how to get down into it. The other end is in a park south of the main gate, right next to the border wall. They would've tunneled out of Mordor, but there's some sort of spell that keeps anyone from doing that along the wall. But that doesn't matter. If I can get to the gate, you and your men can take the gate quite easily."

"Yes, indeed. So, it's all set?"

"I believe so."

"Good. I'll see you soon." Denenthor disappeared with a pop.

"What was that noise?" asked the orc guard as he came in the door from the hall with a cup of coffee.

"Oh, nothing," said Mardil.

An orc entered and tapped the orc guard on the shoulder. "The psychologist is here."