[littlemanpoet]

"Anakron," Alli called out. "If we're killed in the game, does that mean we actually die? Because I'll be very put out if I die."

Anakron nodded.

"Wait a second," yelped Sai. "Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!"

Apparently the nod had not been sufficient, nor seen by all. "Yes, you can. The Dweomer controls the contract."

"I think that we should lynch Anakron," said Feanor of the Peredhil. Anakron stood and began to set her straight. "No, listen to me." she interrupted, attempting to shoo him away. "This entire thing is his doing. If we lynch him, he'd be deprived of his fun, we'd know for sure whether or not he is innocent, and we'd all be able to leave Mordor without a single bit of trouble. After all, the Dweomer works through him. Without a conductor, surely it is as a disconnected circuit?"

Clever little miss, that one.

"Fea, silly dear," Anakron purred as he sat back down on his lazyboy, "you are such a clever one. However, you overlook one fact that some of these others, most notably the members of the Offending Party, have probably ascertained on their own by now, that if I am lynched, they have no chance of getting out of Mordor. But scheme away, m'dear. 'Tis most entertaining.

"Oh, and two more things. As I have said already, you will not lynch one of these newcomers each day, Sai-" The eyes of all the newcomers honed in most antagonistically upon Sai. "-you will lynch at least two newcomers, or whomever, each day.

"So much for the first thing. The second is this: do not assume too much."

With that said, some of the villagers got down to business. Fléin began to sing in a most undwarflike manner:

"Oh citizens of Mordor, our village takes a blow
Elempí has fallen, unimaginable woe
What can man do against such violent hate?
How can we possibly retaliate?
A blind shot into the dark we must now take
For it is our lives at stake..."

As soon as he was done, SpaM said,
"1420! To the bottle we go!
Darn! He wazh one of my besht cushtomers too!

It sheems to me that a pint of Shpam's Old Potboiler izh in order. One of my finesht alezh, it izh. Really putsss hairzh on yer ches' ... Oops! Bad choice of words." SpaM raised up a bottle and quaffed liberally, much spilled down his chin. "There now. That'll calm the nervezh and hep ush get our thinking caps (urp) on. Now, who could have done shuch a terrible thing? Any ideazh?" SpaM stared intently at Mardil and Valde.*

"Well sung, Fléin," said Mormegil. "The best course of action is to analyse each villager and the werewolf will present him/herself inadvertently based on their responses. Everyone is a suspect currently and we need to hear some defense from individuals. I would like to hear from SpaM what with brewing and drinking naught but ale. Now I know that this doesn't imply guilt of murder but we would be wise at looking closely him. And also Valde is a Lead Tragic Actor and that casts doubt on him."

"What with brewing and drinking naught but ale, you shay!" retorted SpaM. Shince when did thish become a val- val- appro- (urp) good bashish for an accuzhashin of murder? Indeed, my tend- tend- liking for the bottle inev'terbly aidzh me in enjoying a mosht peashful night's slee(ur)p. Mosht nightsh I am incap- incap- unable of even shnuffing out the candle, let alone carrying out a grishly murder.

"But what about yourshelf, Maundering Mage? Shince you are sho keen to casht asper- asper- (ur) say bad things with not a shred of evidensh, perhapsh you could explain why we shouldn't be looking to you in thish grim matter?

"SpaM," Mormegil replied, "I am suprised that you didn't listen more carefully. But I shall not repeat myself, as you will probably miss it a second time as well. Suffice it to say that I was questioning your character not accusing you my friend. Now if you find a nasty character there you will likely find nasty deeds.

"As to your questions in regard to me, by all means you should be looking at me, as I said we should be looking at all people. As is well known my nightly routine consists of study, meditation, and the concocting of spells. After which I retire rather early to bed and sleep rather soundly till just before dawn, unless I am woken by your lot making enough noise to raise the dead.

"Given our current siduash'n," SpaM replied in a most erudite manner for one half drunk late in the morning, "I would shay that mentioning anyone'sh name izh tanta- tanta- (urp) the shame thing azh an accerzash'n (o'coursh, shtaring intently izh, nothing of the short ). You ashed me to 'shplain myshelf an' I did. I would ha' thought that my friendly nature wazh well known throughout the village.

Now, mage, it sheems t' me that thozhe early nightsh provide plenty of soap - er - I mean shcope for grishly night-time activitiezh wi'out leaving you tired. And p'rhapsh itsh no coinsheedins that the victim wuz a beshpectickled, one whoozh philoshophoshickulshizing might distrack you from your shtudiezh."

And so went the conversation as the sun reached toward the heights.