Assigned to Mordor RPG

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"No, you don't understand," whispered Alli in a faster and more paranoid way than usual. She was looking around the van distractedly, beginning to breathe quickly. "I can't go... please don't make me do this. I'll walk there... please... Please let me walk. I'll walk. I'll get there quickly, just don't make me do this. Please." Alli felt deeply ashamed at what she considered to be weakness in her... her claustrophobia was kicking in. She felt like she was trapped... the walls of the van did not seem to loom, but she was overly-conscious of how small the yellow vehicle was. Once Mardil and the record crew were inside, she would be too close to people... no matter where she sat or how she positioned herself, her personal space was about to get invaded by people that she barely knew.

She shuddered a little bit and looked truly pitiful to Sai before a sound snapped her from her chatter. The door was opening again. The man who had told her that this was her only shot to fame was coming in. Alli leaned forward, all shows of irrational fear gone, and grabbed him firmly by the collar.

"Listen up buddy," she spoke quietly but very forcefully. "If you speak down to me once more, you're going to regret it. If you make me famous, you're going to regret it even more. I am in this van because I have no choice and because it is the quickest way to reach my goal. If my straight shot from right there," she pointed to where she'd been before Sai had so strongly encouraged her into the van, "to Edge-Where becomes anything different than a straight shot, you should understand by this point what my feelings will be. Do I make myself clear, and do we have an agreement?"

He nodded his head, astounded that this mere slip of a young woman could intimidate him so easily. She had no weapons, he noticed, and she wasn't really big enough to hurt him by sheer force... slightly taller than average, he thought, but slender as Britney Spears. He contemplated for a second handing her the official looking document that Anakron had sent for her that would force her to work as a scantily clad backup dancer for Spears... Looking at her very serious grey eyes, that were really, he noticed with interest, blue with specks of many colors, but in any case seemed to gleam with potential for any of a number of emotions, none of which he really wanted to experience until her long fingers were somewhat farther away from his neck, he kept the document safely hidden. He'd shred it when they got to the studio. Anakron might be annoyed, but what could he really do about it... send the man to Mordor?

When the man looked properly respectful, fearful, and reminiscent of somebody about to wet himself, Alli straightened his bling for him and patted him on the head.

"I'm glad we're clear on this. Now let's get going, please?"

The man was suddenly very glad that he was not Lord Mardil II or this other girl and actually had to travel with the lass. Quickly he positioned himself in the opposite corner as her and everybody else, looking a bit confused over the travel delay, boarded the van. Mardil looked at Alli a little worriedly, but said nothing. As soon as the door was shut, the record man whispered in the driver's ear and the van raced down the road. Alli watched an old woman jump out of the way as the vehicle jumped the curb. She stared intently at her intertwined fingers... she could feel the heat from Mardil's body radiating through her side. She could smell the overpowering cologne of the other man beside her. She could see both of their legs pressed up against her own in the cramped space and she couldn't wait to get out of there.

[Encaitare]

It was not long before Wilhelmina found herself inside a small room, sitting in a chair in front of a one-eyed creature similar to the one toted by the Uruk-hai. Karís Mâtiktwít had told her to talk to the so-called "kamura" for a few minutes, explaining her reaction to the task that Anakron had given to her. "Don't mince words," he had said. "Say something nasty about the rest of the Offending Party, if you like. Drama sells. Not nearly as much as sex, of course, but" (here he looked at Wilhelmina derisively) "let's face it, dear, who are we kidding?" And with that, he disappeared through a curtain, leaving her alone with the kamura.

The old woman stared at the thing for a few moments; it neither moved nor blinked. She tapped it with her walking stick, and it didn't move a bit. 'I won't be moving a bit either unless I can get away from this ridiculous show,' she thought. 'Best to play along for the time being, and then...' Suddenly she had an idea. She smiled to herself, and began to talk.

"When my name was selected by Anakron, I felt like I was the most important person in the universe. And I am, you know. I want you all to know that. I'm going to get out of Mordor much more quick than anybody else. Isn't that right, Mr. Swanky?" The ferret crawled out of the caverns of Wilhelmina's hat and allowed her to pet him. "This is my friend Mr. Swanky. I only feed him licorice, and if he's especially good, dead flies. Unfortunately he's got a bad case of conjunctivitis, and some kind of cold -- I think it's the polluted air in this city. Say hello to the kamura!" She held the ferret in front of the unblinking eye just in time for him to sneeze all over it.

"Hey!" Mr. Mâtiktwít appeared, throwing the curtain aside. "What--"

"How was that, Mr. Mâtiktwít? Just like you asked, right? Let's get going," she breezed, placing Mr. Swanky on her shoulder and walking straight past him. If she had turned around, she would have seen him make a horrible grimace, but since his teeth were in quite a deplorable state, perhaps it was for the best that she didn't.

~*~*~*~*~

"We're stopping here, Karís," Wilhelmina declared, halting abruptly in front of a bakery.

The man blinked. "Whatever for?"

"It's lunchtime, and I need something to eat. I've had an insatiable fruitcake craving all morning." She pushed the door open and didn't bother to hold it for him. "I'd like to purchase one large fruitcake," she told the apron-wearing Orc behind the counter. To the reality show host, she said, "I want to sit at that table by the window."

"It's already occupied," Karís protested, not realizing the difficulty the Uruk-hai was having getting the kamura through the door, which he hadn't bothered to hold open either.

Wilhelmina put her hands on her hips. "I am the star of this show, and I say I want to sit by the window! Make them get up!" The man scurried to the table, and slipped the couple sitting there a Troll to make them leave. Wilhelmina immediately flounced over and sat down with her fruitcake.

"Er... I think I saw a restaurant down the block," Karís said, jerking his thumb in that direction. "I'm going to go get something to eat and bring it back, alright?"

"No. You can have some fruitcake."

"I think I'd really prefer--"

"I said fruitcake!"

The man meekly sat down and tried the fruitcake, which was about as hard as a diamond but slightly more colorful. Wilhelmina heard a cracking sound and hoped it was one of his teeth.

"I need some gum," was the next thing she said to him. "Go to the candy shop I saw next door and buy me a pack or five of cinnamon gum. I want all different flavors." She observed his hesitation and continued. "Hey, if I'm going to be filmed by you, then you're going to have to keep me happy. Got it? You wouldn't want to lose the star of your show, would you?" Karís scrambled towards the door and bolted for the candy shop.

"What are you looking at, you overgrown Orc?" Wilhelmina rudely asked the Uruk-hai.

"I'd be much obligated if you'd be so kind as to call me a Native Mordorian," said the kamuraman, accidentally using the wrong word in his haste to promote political correctness.

"And I'd like it if I were Queen of Gondor, but you can't have everything, can you?" said Wilhelmina. Then she spotted Karís returning with her chewing gum. "Or maybe I can..."

[the phantom]

The van ride was extremely bumpy. Mardil wasn't sure if the street had a lot of bad potholes or if they were running over pedestrians who foolishly believed that the street was an appropriate place to walk. Sai was directly in front of him sandwiched between two copyright lawyers. She sat in a slumped position staring straight ahead as the two men talked over her head.

Alli was leaning forward and breathing a bit heavy and kept looking around at the ceiling and walls, as if they were too close for her comfort. "Claustrophobic?" Mardil asked.

Alli took a large breath and paused, like she was considering her answer and perhaps gathering herself to say something untrue. "No," she said, and then she turned and gave Mardil an awkward look, which Mardil figured was meant to appear confident and at ease.

Mardil nodded and said "Okay," but he was thinking "You're lying, Alli."

Alli looked down at her hands again, obviously uncomfortable. Mardil nudged her arm. "What do you want?" asked Alli, still looking at her hands.

"Trade spots with me," said Mardil, thrusting open the window next to him as he spoke. "I want to talk to that RCA representative sitting next to you and it would be easier if there weren't someone between us. Plus, this way you will be able to look out the window and get some fresh air. Surely that will be more interesting than staring at your hands. With the traffic around here, it could take us a good thirty minutes to get there."

[the guy who be short]

Fléin walked into Ma Cuddonelds, perhaps just a little apprehensively. He had, of course, heard of it before, vaguely and in passing. Most people seemed acquainted with it. The large, yellow, spiderlike symbol above the doors was instantly recognisable - he'd seen it on litter for years. But what was Ma Cuddonelds?

There were chairs and tables all around the doors, stretching into the building for a few score metres. And there, right at the back, were several orcs behind a counter, an unsanitary looking kitchen behind them.

Two years in Mordor, and still Fléin could hardly look at an orc without shuddering, his hand unconsciously moving towards his axe. Still, he had to be politically correct, or at least pretend to be so. Or did he? Wasn't that one of the things he was trying to escape from...? He marched up to the counter.

"Excuse me my good Man-"

"Native Mordorian, please," the Orc simpered. Fléin shuddered.

"Yes, yes. What... this is an Inn, yes?"

The Orc explained that the establishment was indeed an eating house, or a fast food company, as some preferred, but that it was no ordinary inn. As words such as "Multinational corporation," "Providers of institutional food," "false allegations of food poisoning," and "possible halitosis" whizzed by, Fléin started to nod off. The story of Ma Cuddoneld herself, and her capitalising upon her brilliant ideas (such as using slave labour to increase profits and reconstituting chicken nuggets from diseased meat) passed him by completely. A long queue starting forming behind him, and when the person behind him pointed this out, the Orc simply started rambling about the history of language, and how the word queue had seemingly changed meaning after it's transition from French to English. He seemed to ramble on and on.

"Interesting, isn't it, how a queue is almost like a tail, in that it flows behind you, but of course, I had the most horrendous French teacher, don't you know, threatened to eat my legs, and my mothers, all of them, if I didn't do well, but never mind all that, what would you like to order?" he finished at last.

Fléin asked about the menu, and was told to choose from "a burger, large, medium or small, either cat, fish, lemming, possum, rabbit, raccoon, squirrel or any other furry animal, with optional purple ketchup, or else a bag, large, medium or small, of candy, flies, liquorice, bees, or slugs. There's also a choice of lima beans, chocolate, chewing gum or fruitcake, with either cola, coke, pepsi, coca cola, soda or mountain dew on the side."

Fléin signed at the unimaginitive, quasi-traditional Mordorian menu. Sometimes he really did long for a nice mug of ale and some nicely cooked chicken...
"Medium lemmingburger, please, and hold the purple ketchup," he replied.

After eating his meal at a small window table (it had come with purple ketchup, and was grossly overpriced at one troll fifty, and altogether wholly unsatisfying), he decided he really needed to sort out where this Edgingville was, and how he was to get there before the end of the day. It was already midday.

*******

Half an hour later, Fléin was still puzzling over the useless map. Amon Haradow... it had to be here somewhere. The map was still of Lûndûn, no matter how odd the names. Haradow... Haradow... Edgingville, too, was mysteriously absent.

The Dwarf sighed and, deciding that a short nap would clear his wits, set his head upon the rather sticky table. He closed his eyes, immediately regretted doing so for obvious reasons, sighed again and tried to get to sleep in the middle of the very busy restaurant.

[Kath]

Sai was keeping her body in as tight a hold as possible as the van lurched from side to side, not wanting to come into any more contact with the two lawyers on either side of her than she had to. They both reeked of the city and she was having to keep her head down to avoid gagging. Not that either of them even seemed to notice she was between them anyway. They were talking about warranties and tax codes and custom checks, and all the time using double negatives and passive voice and mispronouncing words so that Sai was having to bite her tongue not to scream at them. Even worse though, the two of them continually punctuated all their points by waving their arms about, so she was being hit in the head every few seconds and was starting to worry about a possible concussion.

Her patience was already running very thin when one of the men's arms hit her in the nose. The pain caused her eyes to water like crazy and she finally lost her temper. Grabbing hold of the arm that had just hit her she took hold of the little finger on the hand at the end of it and bent it backwards. Pulling herself upright again she carefully bent the man's finger until she could see his eyes begin to water as hers had just done.

"Hit me again, and next time, I won't stop here - understood?"

The man nodded, trying to edge away from her without moving his finger, a feat he was failing at quite miserably if the look on his face was anything to go by. Satisfied that she had made her point Sai let go and settled back down, finding that she inexplicably had more room. Her method of attack may have been less fierce than Alli's, but it seemed to have been just as effective.

[Celuien]

The train doors shut behind Panakeia with a thud. The whistle blew, screeching and discordant, and the train lurched ahead. She stumbled along the aisle, searching for a vacant seat. If the platform had been crowded, the train was doubly, no, triply so. The passengers climbed over each other in their rush for a seat, resulting in many trampled toes and bruised legs. Panakeia's aching feet rejoiced as she spotted an empty seat at the back of the car. She moved towards it as rapidly as the crowded conditions and unsteady ride, for the train swayed terribly along the track, would allow. She had nearly reached the chair when someone rushed up from behind, pushed her aside and sat down, with a hostile glare that defied her to challenge his right to sit. Panakeia was in no mood for a fight. She grasped a loop dangling from the ceiling and held on for dear life. The conductor was doing a terrible job. The train threatened to derail at every turn. The conductor must be speeding, she thought. I only hope we make it to Edge-Where alive.

The train stopped abruptly. "South Rût’s Lip. South Rût’s Lip. Everyone off for South Rût’s Lip." No one already on board budged, but several more passengers piled on to the train. A woman with a small child, perhaps 2 or 3 years old, now stood behind Panakeia.

"Mommy, I want some more gum," she said.

"Not now, dear. Finish what you have."

"I want more now!" she screamed. The tot was obviously spoiled rotten.

The mother replied in a harassed voice. "I told you, when you finish what you have."

The child began to cry at the top of her voice and pulled the gum out of her mouth. Her fingers went to Panakeia's hair, smearing the gum into her locks. The child smiled broadly. "All gone, Mommy."

"Good girl. Have another piece."

This was too much for Panakeia. "I hope you swallow that gum," she hissed under her breath. The only response was a sly grin and wave. Panakeia moved to find another place to stand. As she glanced around, she spotted a door at the rear of the car. A sign on the door stated "Private. No admittance." Preposterous. This is a public train on the BliddyUnnergrind. There aren't any private cars. She pushed the door ajar and stepped inside.

The new car was dimly lit. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Panakeia noted that the car was vacant. Except for four people standing together in a corner, speaking in low tones and laughing. They turned to face the intruder, and Panakeia realized that three of them were the street musicians from Rût’s Lip Garden. The fourth man was Willy.

The lead singer shouted. "Can't you read? This is a private car. Leave at once!"

"Hush up, Payne. Ah reckin it's too late now. She done seen us."

The second speaker stepped forward, and extended his hand in greeting. "Howdy, ma'am. Step inside and set a spell." He seemed friendly, but there was something in his tone that suggested a command rather than an invitation. Panakeia nodded and sat down while Willy and the musicians hurried to stand in front of her.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli was the first to leave the van... at least if you didn't count the lawyer. She pushed her way past everybody and opened the door, climbing out into the air. Suddenly a tall man in a business suit was looking down at her, shaking her hand, and informing her how pleased he was to see her. Before she could say a word, he had showed her an official looking document with a lot of fine print and an impressive looking signature with a rather large number of loops and squiggles that seemed to spell out "Anakron" or at least "Anakin"... or perhaps it said "A Napkin"? Wait... she thought, napkins aren't impressive... at least not if they aren't finely woven fabric delicately embroidered and trimmed with the best Lothlorien Lace... and he'd slung an arm around her shoulders and was forcibly leading her away from the van. A little bit motion sick and still recovering from her run-in with claustrophobia, Alli could do nothing but cast a longing look toward her companions as she was pulled farther away from them and through a large pair of iron doors into the pretentiously decorated, not to mentioned pronounced, foyer of a truly tall and somewhat shiny building with a large gold music note on the front of it.

She ignored his self-aggrandizing speech as he guided her down many twists and turns. How could a building that had such boringly square architecture on the outside have hallways that actually curved in such random directions? she thought. She was lost quickly but recognized the portraits of a few famous musicians on the walls. Madonnarwen gazed down from her portrait like a virgin clad in white silk. Aikenamir looked down at Alli from the second place in the long line of pictures and she shivered to see a somewhat creepy looking photo of the ever famous Jack son of Michel of the city of Nevilind.

Suddenly the man turned and opened a door, pushing her through it and slamming it behind her. She looked around nervously, wondering where she was. Loud music came on suddenly and stage-lights began to flash. Alli looked around, slightly terrified, and saw that she was surrounded by a dozen scantily clad dancers gyrating to the music. Suddenly a bleached blond clad in slightly less than her backups walked slinkily toward Alli. She beckoned sexily, singing accusing words at her.

"I see you looking at me like I'm some kind of freak."

Alli was terrified. The lights were flashing like a storm had come indoors. The music was loud, the dancers were everywhere, and this woman was speaking to her.

"Get up out of your seat. Why don't you do something?"

"But I'm not sitting!" protested Alli. "And I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing! Where am I?" she yelled over the music.

Suddenly the blond singer motioned to somebody off stage and the music cut. The lights turned on and Alli saw that she was standing in the middle of a stage, surrounded by irate dancers. The singer was yelling at a stage manager. Alli caught a few words as she looked around speechlessly.

"... not in costume... unprepared for work!" Alli looked over as the woman gesticulated toward her. She was about to sneak offstage and hope she wasn't noticed when she heard one of the dancers gossip to another.

"Brit's just mad because the new girl is prettier and looks better in leather."

At this, Alli snickered and decided that enough time had gone by when she wasn't in the control of the situation. She left the stage, pulling the man that the singer had been complaining to with her.

"I've had enough of her attitude." Alli complained to him with her hands on her hips. "If Brit can't handle my presence on stage, she can work with somebody else. Doesn't she know who I am?"

Though the man had no idea who this raven-haired diva was either, he knew better than to argue with one of the company's stars, and she certainly acted like a spoiled one. It was better to get fired for following orders from one of them than to get fired for ignoring them. Quickly the stage was cleared. Alli watched Britney Spears get dragged from the theatre with a deeply satisfied look on her face. Within moments, she was standing alone with the man. "Send for my backup singers." she demanded. "They are in this building somewhere. Ask for Mardil and Sai. I want them here yesterday. And I want a bottle of Dasani, a vegetarian sub, and an I-pod with a lot of heavy metal music on it."

As he scurried off to do this fantastically bossy new artist's orders, she sat happily in the middle of the darkened stage hoping and praying that she didn't run into the blond singer again. She doubted that the woman would be happy with her having her kicked out of the theatre.

[Encaitare]

Over the next few hours, Wilhelmina obtained a new cell phone with a frog ringtone, a diamond bracelet, a kitten, a bunch of Disney movies, a lawn mower, several boring books that had interesting covers, and an empty tube of chapstick, all at the expense of one Mr. Karís Mâtiktwít, who was currently trying to carry all these down the sidewalk. Being a bit hard-of-hearing as she was, she could not hear him muttering to the kamuraman, who, at her insistence, had gotten his sparse hair dyed magenta: "Old hag gets famous by dumb luck and suddenly she thinks she's some kind of princess." However, she knew he was thinking it, which was just what she wanted.

"You know what would be really excellent?" she said, stopping short and turning around.

"A breather?" Karís gasped through the sweat pouring down his face.

"No," Wilhelmina said sweetly. "If you got me that PT Cruiser over there. The yellow and lavender one."

"We've got... to get to... Edge-Where..."

"Yes, and it will be much faster if we can drive!"

"In this traffic? Are you... are you crazy???"

"Young man, are you questioning me?"

Karís wiped at his forehead in trepidation. "No, ma'am."

"Good. Then you won't mind getting the car. Perhaps you can give its owner that lawn mower as compensation."

~*~*~*~*~

"Oh, you won't be coming with me," were both the most wonderful and the most terrible words that Karís had ever heard. His face contorted into horrible faces as he tried to decide whether he should be overjoyed or horrified. He settled with simply confused.

"But... what about the show? I'll be out of a job! I'll be ruined!"

"Hmmm...." said Wilhelmina, leaning out of the car window. "Oh, I've got a simply smashing idea! You remember how you said sex sells?"

Karís nodded, hoping she wasn't about to suggest he adopt a new, promiscuous lifestyle.

"All you have to do is find a new star! Get someone else from the Offending Party!" Actually, it wasn't a half bad idea, Karís realized. But there were problems.

"But the contract is for you!" He added a silent 'unfortunately' in his head. "Anakron--"

"Pish-posh on Anakron; think of the ratings you'll get with young, happening stars! I happen to know where you can find a few others from the Offending Party."

"Where? Where?" simpered Karís, Double Dragon signs dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, some place called RCA," said Wilhelmina. "Best of luck!" And with that, she pulled out into traffic, prepared to terrorize the roadways of Lûndûn.

[the phantom]

With a not very well hidden look of relief, Alli agreed to trade Mardil spots and sit next to the window. It was easier said than done though. The rows of seats were quite close together, not really leaving enough room for two people to squeeze past each other. On top of that, there was the continual bouncing of the van on the substandard streets. Needless to say, an awful lot of contact was made while switching spots, which, though he didn't show it, Mardil rather liked.

Once he was situated next to the RCA representative, Mardil asked "So- you have a document that requires that I accompany you to RCA and work out a record deal, correct?"

"Yeah, homey, that's what we got," answered the man.

"Don't call me 'homey'. My name is Mardil."

"Aw, sorry 'bout that hom- uh, Mardil. Heh- that's a tight name, man- Maarrrdiiilll! S'got a ring to it, ya know. Maaarrrdiiiillll!! Ha ha ha!" Mardil shook his head. He was beginning to regret switching seats. Oblivious to Mardil's annoyance, the man continued. "Mardil... Let's go chill with Mardil! Ya can't hold still with Mardil! Let's pop some pills with Mardil! Yeah, ha ha! Your name'll be real useful when we start bustin' out with some rhymes! "

"Oh, goodie," said Mardil.

"Hey, sorry Mardil, I never told you my name," said the RCA representative. "My real name is Jamal Octavius Jones, but I go by Doctor Drive-by."

"How wonderful," said Mardil.

"Thanks, my man. Now, about that contract. How's about we negotiate that right now, homey?"

"Look, I'm not your 'homey'!"

"Can I call you bro?"

"No!"

"How 'bout MacDaddy?"

"Definitely not!"

"Whaz wrong wid MacDaddy? All it means is a pimp who has reached the zenith of his profession. That's a compliment, man!"

Just as Mardil was about to grab Dr. Drive-by by his throat, the van screeched to a sudden halt. Everyone slammed into the seat in front of them, except the lawyer sitting in the middle front. He went flying through the windshield.

"We're here!" announced the driver.

"I'm suing!" screamed the bleeding lawyer in front of the van.