[littlemanpoet]

The tableau was the remains of the battlefield, hemmed in on north, east, and south by the sheer cliffs of the Ephel Duath. To the west was the Gate that led to Ithilien. It was closed. Beneath the cliffs to the east stood the former tower of Minas Ithil, Morgul, now somehow Cirith Ungol, though why in the Dweomer it should be named for a spider was beyond Anakron. He and A Slan met in the middle of the battlefield, which had once been a haven, if have one could call it, for poisonous death-flowers. All the flowers that had grown there were now dead themselves. Anakron and A Slan shook hand to paw.

They were distracted by the repeated chuff of an oversized bug that looked not unlike a dragonfly. It was shiny yellow, and had antennae sticking out from its top, which added to the effect. Both armies backed away from the spot where it was coming down with a great wind of choking dust and now deafening chuff of propellers. It landed, and out popped Karís Mâtiktwít, a big grin on his face and his overly whitened teeth gleaming.

"That was excellent! Incredible! Fantabulous! The best take we've ever had! What a reality show! This'll get better ratings than anything we've done yet!"

"So you got it all?" Anakron asked.

"Yes! Everything! Even the voice of Illamatar! Which I must say," Karis grinned, "was an ingenious idea. You really should consider a career in show business, Anakron. You certainly have that gift, that élan, that creative spark for just the right touch."

"I thought it rather weak myself," Anakron replied, "a deus ex machina if ever there was one."

"Welllllll, it was your idea, Anakron." Karis pointed a reprimanding finger at him.

"Little matter if it was or not," Anakron retorted, "as long as those Trolls are safely in my bank account?"

"Yes, all three million of them."

"Good. After all, I need to have something to fall back on when I retire from this < ahem > less than advantageous profession."

"Less than advantageous!" Karis cried. "Such power! Such notoriety!"

"I was referring to the more, shall we say, enslaving aspects of it, such as being forced into the position by a pair of bellicose and overwheening wizards."

"Well, all's well as ends in great tv ratings!" Karis said, and marched off, giving orders to his staff of lisping orcs.

"So," said A Slan, "you really are just a marionette, as you say, in this whole thing." Anakron merely nodded. "And there are two wizards who control this..." A Slan looked around "...place?"

"So it is."

"And these anakronisms, as you call them, come from your future, and in that future I have already appeared in this world?"

"Well, there is a rumor that this entire situation is a feigned history, and even so there is much debate as to whether you actually did - or will - appear as that which you claim to be, and whether you actually did what you claimed to have done. But for all intents and purposes, it is as you say."

"Well, being who I am," said A Slan, "I'll take it that I will have been here, and therefore there is no more that I need to do here. I'll be off now! And sorry for the little misunderstanding!" There is some debate as to what happened next. Some say that A Slan roared, and the power of his roar made the air shake, and into that shaken air he disapparated to yet another dimension. Others say that Anakron's raised staff, and the cat's 'meower' conveyed the Dweomer, and he thus sent A Slan packing. Be as it may, A Slan was no more to be seen, and this feigned history, if it is that, continued on with no more A Slan to confuse the bliddy issue. (Nevertheless, it was said that in later years, two brothers and two sisters led a rebellion and took over Cair Pairadocks, under the banner of A Slan, and ruled there in pieces until they left as mysteriously as they came.)

"And now!" cried Anakron. "The fates of the Offending Party has been determined! As soon as arrangements for presentations have been made, the determinations shall be announced!"

to be continued...