Assigned to Mordor RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Whilst the cross-examinations of Alli and Fléin proceeded, events unknown to the rest of the Offending Party were occurring in Mardil's jail cell. His psych-eval concluded, he made to leave his cell only to be stopped by two unassuming hooded and cloaked fellows leaning on their staves. Their cloaks were of a blue so dark that they were almost - not quite but almost - black.

"Greetings, Lord Mardil the Second, Crown Prince of Ithilien, Heir of Faramir the Good," said the slightly taller of the two.

"Hello," Mardil answered, slightly taken aback that they knew exactly who he was. "Who are you?" He had a good idea already.

"That shall be revealed, completely," said the slightly shorter of the two, "very soon. Let us move back into this cozy little room and have a meeting of minds." He gestured into Mardil's cell. Mardil turned around and saw that where before there had only been one chair, now there were three. He did a brow creased double take of the two cloaked fellows, then walked in and rearranged the seats so that he could keep both individuals in his sight at all times. He stood waiting behind his choice of seat while the two blue-hooded men sat down; then he sat himself. The two men threw back their hoods to reveal ancient faces with piercing eyes and long hooked noses, bushy eyebrows and scraggly white beards.

"As you may have guessed already, Mardil," said the slightly taller man, "I am known as Pallando, or as Stamo, by various folks, and my counterpart here is known as Alatar or Mori, depending of course upon where we happen to be." Mardil nodded. These were the two blue Istari, the ones who had cursed all of Gondor with the Anakronism Dweomer.

"What do you want?" Mardil asked.

Pallando smiled. "Right to the point as usual. I like that about you."

"But before we get to what we want," said Alatar, "you should know about certain information about which we are aware."

"First," continued Pallando, "we are aware of your chosen weaponry, such as doses of this and that in your little bottles, and your effectiveness with knives. We encourage you not to try to use either weapon against us, as it will only be to your own disadvantage."

"Rest assured on that point," Alatar intoned.

"You've threatened me," Mardil answered, "not to try to harm you or it will go the worse for me. I understand. So, what are you here for?"

Pallando's brows rose. "Threatened? Nay! We have merely warned."

"We have more to tell you," Alatar continued, "before we answer your question. It has, shall we say, to do with 'doing what you are supposed to do, what you should do, and what you can do.'"

Mardil's eyes narrowed. "So you've listened in on conversations I've had with Anakron. Either that, or he has reported to you."

The two Istari merely smiled by way of response.

"We are also aware," said Pallando, "of various organizations that specialize in illegal activities here in Mordor, and their cellgroups and activities throughout the rest of the Gondorian Imperium."

"Indeed," continued Alatar, "we have been keeping tabs on a campaign that denounces the King of Gondor for sending a certain young heir to the Stewardship of Ithilien to Mordor despite the fact that he did not speak an anakronism. We are also aware of a similar ad campaign blaming the King for all the corruption that has engulfed Gondor's government, as well as the weakened state of the military. We are aware of the source of these campaigns."

Mardil's brow furrowed. "Oh? And who might that be?"

"Do not play coy with us, Mardil the Second," Alatar warned. "We are aware of your father's grand ambitions for you."

Mardil sat forward in his chair, outrage warring with his self control. "Have you done something to my father?"

"Not a thing," answered Pallando.

"There is no need," added Alatar, "yet."

"We think," Pallando said, "that it was a minor stroke of genius that you forged an alliance with 'Roggie', as the current Lord of Mount Doom has been nicknamed. He very much looks forward to becoming Prince of all Mordor."

"Not to mention," Alatar picked up, "your clever alliance with Khamul and his criminal organization. It is even quite noble of you to aspire to destroying that organization. However....." Alatar stopped speaking and looked carefully into the eyes of Mardil; Pallando did the same.

What were they up to, Mardil wondered? Obviously, they knew everything he was doing; at least, everything he was doing that he had ever told to Anakron. Had Anakron betrayed him to these two? Or did they hold more power than Mardil had understood until now? And why were they studying him now? Could they read his thoughts? He had never developed the ability to hide his thoughts from those who could do such a thing, so he found himself to be defenseless on that score, and therefore decided that it was useless to worry about it. He decided that he might as well push to the heart of the issue.

"You've had your say, obviously. I'll ask again: what do you want?"

Pallando smiled. But the smile reached no higher than his abundant mustache; his eyes were as coals. "We want to replace the King of Gondor with you."

"Fine, but I was going to do that anyway."

The two chuckled. "But on our terms," said Alatar.

Anger flared in Mardil's heart. "And if I say no?"

"There is something you have yet to understand, Mardil," Pallando purred. "Khamul answers to us. Roggie answers to us. Anakron answers to us."

"Furthermore," Alatar murmured, "there are no High Elves left, no rival Istari (unless you count that bumbling Radagast), no evil Overlord with Rings to enslave others, no King in Gondor with the virtue of character to stand against us. We alone remain of all the powers of the former ages, and none can stand against us. You, my dear Mardil, would be a fool to try."

"What are your terms?" Mardil asked the obvious question, giving no clue as to whether he intended to abide by whatever terms they offered.

"It is simple, really," Pallando said. "Leave the Dweomer alone, and thus our Anakronist alone, and rule as you will except in any way that we overrule your decisions, and we will put our power and wisdom at your disposal. Refuse this offer, and be stopped from even escaping from Mordor, whether you passed the tests or not, whether your father has come to support you or not. These are your terms. Mardil the Second, Crown Prince of Ithilien, Heir of Faramir the Good, Would-be Usurper to the Throne of Gondor, what is your choice?"