[Nogrod]

“Saatanan tunarit!” the Master cursed in a secret tongue only the Maiar lured by Melkor knew. Then he switched to Quenya: “Fools! Idiots! Petty songbirds! How could you fail me? How could you?” The Emperor knew it was wiser not to answer at all.
“Those little bastards! They failed me. I should have chosen someone else!” the Master raged. Then he turned to the Emperor again, his eyes flaming: “Don’t you dare to fail me too.”
“I will die for your cause, Master”, the Emperor swore gravely, its head bent down.
“That is not enough, you swatter! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!” the Master went on. “You must not die. You must make them die. Understood?”

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One of the Elves awoke that Night to a small click that came from his door. He jumped up just to see the Emperor penguin turning to face him. He reached for his sword and was just turning to defend himself when he heard the low and friendly voice of the penguin. The Emperor didn’t look especially frightening, standing there remarkably shorter than the tall elf.

“What are you thinking at the moment, kinslayer?” it asked innocently.
“You dare to call me kinslayer, you Dress Coat Demon! I at least repent it part-time! Mind you, I’m thinking of beheading you with my sword right now”, Macalaure flared up.
“Before you go on with it, could you just reflect it, to show me that you can?” the Emperor asked calmly and looked him in the eye.
“What are you talking about, werecreature? Do you find your death a fun thing? I have killed my own kin, so surely I wouldn’t hesitate to kill a mere bird”, Macalaure declared, emphasising his words by raising his sword.
“So, if you are thinking about beheading me, can you also become conscious of the fact that you are thinking about beheading me?” the Emperor queried in a peaceful tone.
“Of course you stupid bird! It’s called self-reflectivity. It’s something that divides the beings with fëa from those that do not have one. It’s like you yourself looking at your thoughts from above. Even the children know this... and we have been assuming you to be intelligent!” Macalaure answered without hiding the sarcasm.
“Well can you then become conscious about yourself being conscious of your thought of killing me?” the penguin asked carelessly, like in passing.
“Surely I can!” Macalaure snapped back. “What are you after, you foul creature?”
“I don’t believe you if you don’t try and prove it”, the Emperor grinned thinly.
“Okay, I’ll show you”, Macalaure lowered his sword and thought about the act of killing the penguin. Quite immediately he became conscious about thinking it. And pretty easily he managed then to become conscious of this reflective stance to the original thought of killing the penguin. “Ha! It wasn’t even difficult. So what about it?” he asked, raising his sword again.
“Well, if you can reflect your self-reflection, could you also reflect that reflectivity over your self-reflection?” the Emperor answered with a question, now already smiling as wide as one can smile with a beak, “Or could you even be looking from the outside your reflection on your reflectivity over your self-reflection?”
“Erm... You mean to see myself becoming conscious of being conscious of seeing myself thinking something?”
“You can put it that way if you wish. But just before you try, think also, which one of these is your innermost self or the “I” that you yourself are? How deep will you have to go to actually find it?” the Emperor tried to hold an earnest expression on its face, but it was difficult. It giggled (only think of what a giggling penguin would look like and you just might have the correct impression).

Macalaure was now getting deeper and deeper into the layers of himself, slowly drowning further and further away from the here and now. At the same time his brain started to heat, no, it started to overheat from the thoughts leading to infinity. He was absorbed into a kind of Reverse Total Perspective Vortex that sent him spiralling down to the infinity of himselves always eluding him no matter how deep he got. It didn’t take long before Macalaure’s brains exploded. The boiling hot blood sprinkled all over his room and the headless body dropped to the floor.

The Emperor had already drawn back to its room by then. Nice things these vicious regressions that play with infinity, it thought before it fell asleep, being careful not to attempt the same thought-experiment itself.

(WARNING: Kids, do not try this at home.)

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When the Elves once again assembled in the corridor the next morning, they were so delighted to see the phantom alive against all expectations that they all ran to embrace him. The phantom was generally cool about it, but in the end he had to admit: “Well, I guess it’s better to be embraced by a bunch of droll Elves than sliced by a dreadful avian monster.”

“I think we still have lost one of our number”, Encaitare remarked, counting the heads. A gloomy silence fell upon the joyous Elves. “Macalaure’s missing...”

Spawn was standing near the door of Macalaure’s room and pulled it open. There was blood all over the tapestry and the headless body of Macalaure was lying at the floor. “You don’t want to see this, but he’s here”, spawn said. She closed the door. “Rest in peace, Mac”, she whispered.

That rest was not granted. Kitanna’s bruised body appeared from behind the corner.
“Oh no, it has broken free”, the chambermaid Valier sighed.
“Oh Eru, look at its condition”, Firefoot said, her quiet voice almost trailing off.
“We should have tied it up better”, Roa muttered as the zombie tumbled against Macalaure’s door and hit its head for the thousandth time. Kitanna’s living corpse looked very bad indeed.

They took Kitanna’s soulless body downstairs with them and tied it up again. “I can take care of her, as I outwit her”, Dimwë the half-wit promised solemnly.

“Breakfast-time. Breakfast. Now. Breakfast now”, they heard a cheerful voice from above them.
“Oh, shut up, silly bird”, said Anguirel bitterly.

~ The Dead ~
Nogrod - a troubadour, singer – mod, blowed up in the Big Bang on Night1
Thinlómien - a troubadour, harpist – mod, blowed up in the Big Bang on Night1
Boromir88 - The Mouth of Turgon – werepenguin, cast into a gorge on Day1
Kitanna - servant who empties and cleans chamber pots – ranger, body and soul separated by Cartesian Dualism on Night2
JennyHallu - An Embroiderer, lost, not related – cobbler, shot dead in to the sea on Day2
Lalaith - Aredhel's tutoress – seer, blinded, mutilated and torn apart by the Owl of Minerva on Night3
Eonwe - Turgon's herald - ordo, lost in the waves of the dark sea on Day3
Naria - Family's goat herder - werepenguin, driven into a gorge by her consicience on Day3
Macalaure - Turgon's nephew and part-time-repentant kinslayer – ordo, brains exploded after entering a vicious regression concerning the possible infiniteness of self-reflective consciousness on Night4

~ The Living ~
Anguirel - Lalwendë's semi-canonical lutenist and Findis's demi-canonical flautist
dancing spawn of ungoliant - animals' dung cleaning specialist
Diamond18 - Dimwë the half-wit second cousin of Elenwë
Encaitare - A standard-bearer
Firefoot- Aredhel's friend
the phantom - Ecthelion's hotheaded nephew and personal squire
Roa_Aoife - Elenwë's personal guard
Valier - Elenwë's personal chamber maid

Day4 begins now.