Tol-in-Gaurhoth LXIII: The Cottage of Lost Play

[Nerwen]

Nah, I'll stick with him–

++Zil.

EDIT: X'd with Nogrod.

[Mnemosyne]

Once again the village was flustered as the day drew to an end. Accusations were flying everywhere and three guests were neck in neck for the chopping block. At the last minute, though, Eönwë cast the deciding vote for Inziladun.

But unlike Fea, Inziladun was not willing to make his death easy. He stood stone-still before the others. "Kill me," he said, "if you have the heart for it."

The guests looked uneasily at one another. "Eönwë was the last one to cast the vote," said Rikae. "Let him do it." They led Inziladun to a nearby cave which seemed to double as a weapons storeroom. McCaber handed him a throwing dagger, while Pitchwife and Lalaith turned Inziladun around. "Aim for the back of the neck."

For a full two minutes Eönwë stood there with the dagger in his hand. "Really," he said, "I don't think--"

Just then Inziladun exploded in a mass of fur. The werewolf reached for Lalaith's throat. Suddenly in a blaze of light Pitchwife opened up his flannel jacket, and reached inside his pocket to draw out a glowing crystal. The wolf turned to eye it, and dazzled by its beauty, did the only logical thing he could in this situation:

He bit Pitchwife's hand off.

Immediately Inziladun yelped in pain as the holy light of the gem seared in his stomach. There was something worryingly human in his cries of agony. In his throes he snapped at Shasta's stomach and tore it out.

Pitchwife stared in shocked fascination at the bloody stump where his hand used to be. "Holy smokes!" said autume. "Where'd you get that?"

He turned to her and smiled. "The Silmarils sear the flesh of those unworthy to touch it. Could only find one, but I thought it'd be good to have on hand... You know, just in case."

"Now what?" said Nerwen. Inziladun was proceeding to claw at some of the rocks at the edge of the cave, bloodying his paws.

Pitchwife looked at his arm again. "I think I know how this story ends," he said. "Might as well finish the job I've started. Shame I couldn't have protected you all longer."

With that, he drew out a knife and lunged at the mad wolf.

As Inziladun lay panting, the knife wounds to his chest innumerable, he turned back into his human form. Tears were streaming down his face, mingling with the blood. "Hurts... so bad..." he said before he went still.

Pitchwife, meanwhile, backed away and leaned against the wall of the cave, bleeding from all the scratches. "I only wish I could see my own Lúthien again," he said. McCaber reached inside Inziladun's stomach to place the Silmaril in Pitchwife's hand before he died.

Those guests who remained stared in shock at the tableau laid out before them. Then they looked down at themselves. Almost all of them were covered in blood.

"We'd better wash up," said Rikae. "Is there any way of walling this cave in?" Just then a rain started from outside the cave. As one the guests walked out into it and only wished it could wash the stain from their hearts. In a loud bang lightning struck above the cave, and stones rained down before its mouth.

They returned to the guest wing in near silence.

Just when they were about to go inside their rooms, Nogrod turned to Eönwë, a black look in his eye. "Pity you didn't kill him when you had the chance," he said.

IT IS NOW NIGHT THREE

The Living:
Nessa Telrunya
McCaber
Nogrod
autume98
Lalaith
Nerwen
Rikae
Eönwë

The Dead:
Feanor of the Peredhil (werewolf)
Boromir88
Shastanis Althreduin
Inziladun (werewolf)
Pitchwife (ranger)

[Mnemosyne]

McCaber tossed and turned in his sleep. He was a light sleeper normally, but tonight it was even worse. He could feel death closing in on him. Sighing, he tried to focus his mind on one of the company, just in case...

He pulled his blankets about him closer. It was so cold in his room, and so wet--

So wet.

His eyes opened with a start. He was on a grassy floor still slick from the evening's rain. From far off, he heard a long, keening hoooooooooooooooowwwwwwl. Staggering to his feet, he ran.

The howl came again, but this time there was a thread of excitement in the cry. He shuddered. The wolf was having fun with him!

The glade he was in narrowed into a pathway surrounded by rocky walls. He cursed as he saw that the only way forward led into a tunnel that was blacker than black.

The darkness was so heavy that he almost turned back, but he knew that if he did he would die, whereas if he could just get through--

He was stuck--not by one of those spiritual-type barriers, but by an actual, sticky, physical one. A small part of his mind remarked how it was hardly surprising, given that he was in a tunnel that was blacker than black, but the rest of him merely reacted, flailing about and getting more of the cords wrapped around him. He was trapped like a fly in a web. And there was no Sting to help him. Well, he thought, if I get stung I suppose I won't die just yet...

Just then he felt the wolf's paws creep up behind him, and its foul, rank breath hit his nose and neck. The wolf placed its arms around him, and squeezed him until his bones snapped and his eyes popped out.

* * *

In the morning the guests' corridor led directly to the tunnel itself. They found McCaber's broken body lying wrapped in spider silk. And the guests mourned the loss of their seer.

IT IS NOW DAY THREE.

The Living:
Nessa Telrunya
Nogrod
autume98
Lalaith
Nerwen
Rikae
Eönwë

The Dead:
Feanor of the Peredhil (werewolf)
Boromir88
Shastanis Althreduin
Inziladun (werewolf)
Pitchwife (ranger)
McCaber (seer)