[the guy who be short]

Fléin followed A Slan, or tried to. The Great Antilion did not wait for him, and he fell behind quickly, though the creature was always in view in front of Fléin.

Fléin rounded a corner, scared that A Slan would be out of sight, but as he did so, he saw the lion standing calmly in front of him.

"You must not follow me further than the door, Fléin," He said sombrely. "Be strong, and comfort her."

Before he could ask what this meant, the Antilion was loping off down the corridor again. He turned into a room on his right, and was gone. Fléin ran to the door, only just ajar, and peered into the room. What he saw awed him.

There, in the centre of the room, dominating it, was a raised stretcher. A Slan flung himself upon this, dark strands of vapour flowing behind him. And at the head of the Stretcher was - Anakron. Fléin had never liked the man, but now... he was struck to the bone as never before. The glint in Anakron's eyes was not pleasant.

And all around the stretcher, filling the room, were hordes of... what were they? Horrible beasts of all shapes and sizes, evil creatures that moved upon their hind legs, creatures half cat and half bug, creatures half lemming and half snake, the likes of which Fléin had never seen before. The room was lit by flickering torches mounted upon the walls, and shadows cast themselves everywhere.

"Fléin!" the Dwarf heard a voice cry, and turned his face away to look down the corridor - it was startling how normal the world outside that room still seemed - and saw Sai. "I couldn't find the registr-"

But the Dwarf cut her off with hushing noises and a waving of the arms, and beckoned her to come. Together, they watched, collective breath drawn, as the scene unfolded.

Anakron brought a razor out from his pocket - it was one of those fancy electric ones - and cursed. "The batteries have gone!" he exclaimed to the room in general, to boos and disappointed groans. But he plugged the razor into a wall socket, and turned it on to produce a buzzing noise, soon drowned out by the cheer of the crowd.

"Just a quick trim today, please, Anakron," A Slan said. "Two inches thick would be good."

Anakron nodded, and brought the razor up to A Slan's vapourous neck. The creatures all around roared with laughter as swathes of his mane were cut off, only to vaporise. In a few minutes that seemed to Fléin and Sai like an eternity of torture, it was done. Anakron moved back, and they could see A Slan, his mane gone, and the crowds jeering at him.

"Bind him!" Anakron cried, and the creatures rushed forward with cords, and he was tied to the stretcher, and his muzzle bound. As soon as this was done, Anakron stepped forward. "Fool!" he cried, and cackled such as they had never heard before. "Fool! Great Fool! Die now, and know you have given me Nurnia forever! For tonight, I will kill you, as you have agreed, and who then will stand in my way? Who then will resist Anakron's - and the Dweomer's - rule over Mordor?"

The creatures started up their jeering once more. A Slan turned his head to look at the door, at Fléin and Sai, and there was a loving smile in his eye. Then Anakron called for silence, and all noise save the spluttering of the torches distinguished itself.

Anakron spoke in a quiet voice that was nevertheless clearly audible, and carried over the room and to the door unhindered. "No doubt, Antilion, you revel in your idiocy. How many worlds have you seen? How many times have you offered yourself, and risen, and conquered? How long have you relied on the Deeper Magic from before the Dawn of Time?"

Fléin saw A Slan's eyes widen in shock. Next to him, he was aware of Sai quietly sobbing.

"Old Fool! Do you not know this World is not as Those? In this World, in Arda, there is no magic from before the dawn of time! The writer, the father of this world, is different to all those you have seen! There is no Deeper Magic in Middle-Earth! None! You die, and I rule!" His voice rose to a crescendo.

The crowd cheered again, more frenzied than before; they roared and headbanged and lolled their heads. Finally, the noise died out again at Anakron's bidding, and he spoke once more.

"And do you know the funniest thing of all, A Slan?" he whispered again, almost without moving his lips, into the creature's wispy ear. "I don't even rule here. I'm just a marionette."

A Slan said something, but the cord around his muzzle obscured his words. It sounded like "Bah Gah."

There was the greatest, most frenzied uproar yet, and the creatures all gathered around the helpless nameless shapeless timeless thing, poking it jabbing at it, tormenting it. A Slan wept.

Fléin took his eye off the scene for the first time and looked to Sai, remembering A Slan's final words. She was heaving, heavy sobs racking her body. He put her hand around her, trying to comfort her.

She slapped him. "What the Angband is wrong with you? What are you, a pervert?" But tears rolled down her face, and her words were but a squeal, a cry for comfort.

Then Fléin realised that tears were running down his face too, saturating his beard, and his sight was bleared. They embraced, both sobbing silently.

They could bear to watch no more, nor hear the hideous mocking of the beast any longer. Together, they turned and left and wept.