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Anakron had stayed in his rooms when the call had come from Alli for the ambassadors to meet again before Roggie. Trade? What difference to him? So the Mordorians wanted to trade anakronisms to Gondor, and Mardil did not want them. Personally, Anakron thought Mardil was right to keep them trapped in Mordor. He could imagine that the Blue Istari wanted them spread throughout the Empire, and perhaps throughout Arda. It mattered little to him though. Let them fight it out; the Blue Istari would get their way in the end in any case.
As for him, all Anakron wanted was to be free of the staff, hat, and cloak. Officially, only the staff held any anakronistic power at all; but the hat and cloak had come to symbolize the role every bit as much as had the staff; so, it all must go.
"Lūgnūt!"
Dishes crashed to the floor in the kitchen.
"Oooooh! Jee Ay, must you do that! You scared meeee!"
Anakron rolled his eyes. He hated anakronized orcs; almost as much as he pitied them.
"Get in here, Lūgnūt."
"You are soooooo mean!" The orc moved swiftly into the sitting room, tangling his clawed hands nervously in his watermelon apron.
"Take that apron off. You're coming with me. Now."
Lūgnūt began fiddling with the bow in back, swinging his unprodigious hips back and forth in the effort. "Ow! Now look what you made me doooo! I chipped a nail!"
"You're wearing on my limited patience," Anakron warned, his head lowering so that he looked at the orc through raised and threateningly narrowed eyes beneath his suddenly stormy brow.
"Coming! Coming! Keep your knickers on! Sir!"
"Do what I say promptly and I'll forget you said that."
"Yes, oh Big Jee Ay!" Lūgnūt led the way out the door.
~ : ~
Soon they were again standing at the edge of the Sammath Naur.
"Ooooh, I hate it here!" the orc cried.
"Do what I say and the sooner we'll be gone from here."
"What do you want me to do?" There was a mixture of fear and suspicion in his voice.
"Nothing that will harm you. Simply take the staff from my hands, along with this hat and cloak, and cast them into the fire."
The orc's eyes widened. "You can't be serious!"
"I am deadly serious."
"But that's the Anakronist Staff! Sylvester himself!"
"Take them from me."
"Why?"
"So that I can be free of the burden of the office. I don't want to be the Grand Anakronist anymore."
"Can I be?" A green light of pure lust suddenly appeared in the orc's eyes.
"If you could be, I'd give them to you, but if they aren't destroyed, they'll just return to me no matter what you do."
"Oh. Well, in that case, fine. I'll do it."
"One more thing. Ignore any pleas or cries from me to give them back or stop from destroying them."
"Got it."
With that, Lūgnūt took the staff, hat, and cloak from Anakron's hands and strode toward the edge of the cliff.
"Nooooo! I didn't mean it!" cried Anakron. "Give them back! I neeeeed them!"
"Sorry, Anakron, too late."
"Good. Just testing."
The orc held the items over the fire for just a moment, during which Anakron felt his heart suddenly lurch and his tongue suddenly clove to the roof of his mouth in an impotent "n" to be followed by a hollow "o"; but the orc was too quick, and suddenly the staff, cloak, and hat were falling. Anakron ran to the edge to look, and saw them disappear into the flames and magma below.
"Well, that's a relief," he grinned to the orc.
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