Assigned to Mordor RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Panakeia closed her eyes, stood on her toes, and clicked her heels together. "I know there's a Shire, I know there's a Shire!" She opened her eyes again and smiled bashfully.

"What was that all about?" Anakron asked, thoroughly bemused.

"Meowwwwwwer!" Sylvester called from atop Anakron's staff. "Convey why don'tcha?" he said.

Anakron shrugged. "Dweomer, convey."

Sylvester began to hack. And hack. And hack.

"Uh oh," said Panakeia, "that is going to be one big hairball."

Sylvester kept hacking. Finally a wad of paper dropped from his mouth and fell into Anakron's hands.

"Open it, thilly!" Sylvester ordered.

Anakron uncrumpled the mess, which somehow was not all covered in saliva, a great relief to Anakron who was not entirely keen on having a cat's spew in his hands. He straightened out the paper and flapped it in the wind. There was writing in it, in a now famous lettering that had been seen all over Middle Earth for years untold. Anakron smiled. He held it up for Panakeia to read:

Emissary from Mordor arrives with a new Shire resident...

I hereby assign Mardil II, formerly of Gondor, formerly of Mordor, to the Shire for acts of heroism and being a generally good egg.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

~ signed, Celuien, Ghost Prince of Cardolan

"It appears that Mardil II is free and in the Shire," Anakron smiled. "But who's Celuien?"

"Oh, a friend," Panakeia grinned.

Anakron gave her his best Spockú impersonation.

"This," Alatar growled, "is not the end of the story."

"We'll thee about that!" Sylvester hollered, and favored the two Blue Istari with a very wet Bronx Cheer.