The King's Players RPG

[Inziladun]

Vëandur looked at Aldarion, and his face was unusually thoughtful. He had never been asked, nor had he ever even considered the question he had just been asked.

"Why the Sea?" he said slowly. "Why does it call to me, and so many others? I know not the answer. I have heard it said that in its voice we hear the sound of far off ages, and indeed that it alone speaks with the same voice as it did when Númenor still rose above the waves, and even longer ago, when Men like Tuor and Túrin walked the world." He paused for a moment.

"All my life have I lived with the Sea, and by it, with the fish it gives us. I respect it, for such a man who does not is a fool. But I do not fear it. If the Sea wants my life, I shall freely give it, as the Sea has given to me and those of my kin for so long." He looked at Aldarion closely.

"I wonder that one who was born in Dol Amroth should speak so. I know not how one who hears the voice of the Sea can be unmoved and not enchanted by it. But if such is the case with you, perhaps you do well to avoid it". He turned again to go.

[Thinlómien]

The girl was on the floor, laughing so hard that she was crying. Sereth felt her annoyance at Asta flow away as it was replaced by helpless mirth. Thiliel's laugh was contagious. They laughed for what seemed like minutes until Thiliel finally got up. Sereth's eyes were moist too and she wiped them. She sighed. "I'm afraid I have to go now, though," she said. "Our rehearsals must be continuing soon. See you!"

She went out of the door, and found Branor and Therian, and of course Harrenon of all the actors, grouped around Brinn. "Brinn," she said, keeping her eyes steadily on the leader of their troupe. "What's up? Are we rehearsing? And I met the innkeeper's niece, her name is Thiliel and she said we should ask the innkeeper about the war because he has lots of stories about it."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Therian gaped at Branor and wondered if it would be imprudent at this juncture to kill him in his sleep. When had they discussed him quitting the role of Eowyn, his only role in the entirety of the show? They had not. When had Therian given Branor permission to convince their boss to reassign his part? He had not.

And so they stood there as others approached, and Therian now, instead of having a role he did not like, which may someday be promoted to a role of brilliance - because nobody denied he had the talent for a greater role... Now Therian had no role. No part. No lines to memorize, no scenes to rehearse.

He had known long enough that Brinn did not like him much and would look for any excuse to can him, and as he pondered traveling back to Bree alone and disgraced, he took a moment to seriously consider constructing a terrible accident by which Branor would be incapacitated. His friend, the idiot, seemed completely unaware he had just lost Therian the only job he had.

Therian could think of no way to broach the subject to Brinn without reminding her that she could now guiltlessly pretend the change in roles was Therian's official resignation. He knew that she would be well within her rights to send him off now without further ado, considering the situation done and final.

So instead of talking, instead of contributing to the discussion, he stood like a lump, considering myriad ways to seek revenge on his idiot best friend for possibly ruining his life and career.

[Galadriel55]

Thiliel was sorry that Sereth had to leave. She was a nice girl. But she needs to practice, Thiliel reminded herself, Frodo of the Nine Fingers is a big role, after all! I must not distract her too much while she stays. Or Frodo will by mistake burn Minas Anor instead of Barad-dur!

Thiliel giggled to herself. She walked aimlessly down the hall and back. Making a decision, she ran over to the stairs and climbed to the second floor. Her room was the last one in the hall. Its windors faced the back; it was the smallest room in the inn, but it was hardly ever occupied by anyone except for Thiliel.

Despite the bright sunshine and high noon, she felt very sleepy. She walked in, closing the door behind her. She pulled off her dress and climbed under the thin blanket. She yawned. Soon her eyes closed, and her breathing became level.

[Pitchwife]

Coldan stared at Asta, hardly believing he had heard right. He felt all blood drain from his face, and it took him all the restraint he could muster not to slap her.

"Is zis vat you zink of me?" His fist were clenched so hard his fingernails bit into his palms, but for all the storm raging inside him, his voice was cold as a blade. "Count yourself lucky zat I am not so. An Easterling vould beat you up and maybe rape you on the spot for such an insult." He shook his head with a bitter laugh. "How dare I! Yes indeed! How dare I speak to you like a man viz feelings zat can be hurt, not just some pet to be humoured, scorned or neglected at your vim!" All of a sudden a huge, grey hole gaped where his heart had been. "But as you vish. If I'm not good enough for you, flirt viz your pure-blooded Númenórean all you vant. I'm zrough viz you."

He threw the script down before her feet and strode off, only turning back to toss over his shoulder: "Find someone else to rehearse viz. You can ask Therian, he should know ze lines. Or, vell, you know who."

[the phantom]

The light was failing, cut off by the mass of Mindolluin. Aldarion walked briskly through the final gate into the first circle and turned towards the inn, anxious to report his progress to Brinn.

Aldarion had opened up entirely to Lord Borondir, telling him of the plight of the players, and he had been invited to return before noon the following day. Borondir would have gladly told all he could remember of the War of the Ring that very day, but he suggested and Aldarion had agreed that it would be better to give Borondir time to find some of his old journals and letters to refresh his memory. No doubt Borondir was reviewing notes even now.

And after his appointment with Borondir there was still his afternoon dinner with Bregolas and his family, where Aldarion hoped to discover yet more information. "Brinn ought to be thrilled when I report this to her," thought Aldarion. "It is possible that tomorrow will put us well on our way to curing our illness of information."

But Aldarion was looking forward to tomorrow night even more than the day, and the reason why- well, Aldarion was keeping that to himself for the time being.

[Mnemosyne]

Brinn thought over the mass of changes that Harrenon, Branor, and Therian had brought her--and the recasting decision she'd made, on the second. It only made sense, really--Therian was wasted on his current role, and it had been sheer stubbornness (and frustration at his woeful attitude towards women) that had kept him in it quite as long. And this meant Asta would be less hurt (she hoped) at the loss of Mary, who quite clearly now would have to go, and...

She stopped herself before making any further plans. It was clear she still had only half the story, and she needed all of it before they decided what to do next. It was so awful, being pent up like this!...

Rollan would tell her that, at this rate, it was a good thing that Amdir had not yet made her crutches. But Brinn chafed so much in her seat that it was tempting to disregard even those. She couldn't begrudge Amdir for taking the day off, though.

Just when she was about to consider trying to stand on one foot, Rollan came in the cart. "I made a deal that I think you'd be quite proud of," he said.

"Oh?"

"Talked the innkeeper into giving us a cheap rate on ale, as long as we can make sure no one drinks anywhere else. Should help keep talk down, I hope."

Brinn smiled widely and pulled him down for a kiss. "You're a marvel," she said. "How is everyone else?"

"Amdir's taking it well enough. Coldan wanted love advice--for our dear Asta--and I did what I could. You've seen the rest, I think?"

Brinn nodded. "He's finally speaking up then, is he? Well, that would certainly explain why he was so eager to secure her that part..."

"She could do worse than him, that's for sure."

Brinn nodded. "Yes, but will she see it that way? Asta's never been very forthcoming on her affections, I hope... Well, I hope nothing drastic happens. Nothing ruins a performance so much as when its actors fight. Unless they're particularly good actors, which..." Honestly, Brinn didn't know if any of them were good enough to hide that sort of thing on the stage. "Remind me again why we left Dale?"

"Well, as I recall, there was a dragon involved..."

[Galadriel55]

Thiliel took the tray from Ingold in her usual flamboyant mood. The nap had restored all her former energy, and then some. She took care to concertrate while going around the tables, so that she woudn't spill anything.

Everything went fine, until she was almost past the last table, where three men were engaged in a conversation. All of a sudden, one of them started shouting at the other two. It made Thiliel jump, so that she almost knocked the tray over. She carefully backed away from the table set out to the wagons at a fast pace. Ingold would be able to sort it out.

Just as she reached the wagons, Thiliel saw another man coming out of one, holding two wooden crutches. She nodded to him with a "Good evening, sir!" and proceeded inside. She found Mistress Celebrindal carefully lowering herself down on a chair. Thiliel put the tray down on the floor and ran over to help. When Celebrindal was seated, she picked up the food and handed in over to the woman.

"Good evening, Mistress Celebrindal! I've brought your supper! How do you like it here, in Minas Anor?" Thiliel added after a pause, "I think it is the best place in all of Middle Earth, except for my home in Lebennin, that is. I do enjoy helping my Uncle, even though it means that I have less time than other lasses to play. There usually isn't any trouble in the inn greater than a broken pot, and I can clean that up quick. Today, though, there seems to be something queer. There was a man yelling at someone. I don't know why; I left quickly. I think he was talking about theatre, though. What do you think?"

Too late did Thiliel realise her blunder. I'm saying all this about a man who is probably Mistress Celebrindal's employee!

[Pitchwife]

Coldan stirred from his dejection, irritated by he knew not what that chafed his senses like some annoying insect buzzing around his head on a hot summer day. It took him a while to recognize Aldarion's voice reaching him from a few tables away - the very last thing he would have wanted to hear now. Looking up, he saw the playwright sitting and talking with a fair-haired young man in fine clothes whom he hadn't seen around the inn before; probably some aquaintance from the city - or, the thought shot through his head, could that be the chaperon Lord Whatsisname had installed to supervise the Players? If so, Aldarion had surely been quick to cotton up to the powers that be. Just as was to be expected.

Neither of them was looking his way, and it seemed they hadn't noticed him yet, which was just as well; he wasn't in the mood for any conversation, least of all with Aldarion. He turned his attention back to his cup of wine, only glancing up briefly from time to time with a glowering look. But after a while, the duo was joined by Branor, and their talk became a little more lively. It was evening by now, and the common room was rapidly filling, so he didn't understand much of what was said, but he thought he heard his own name mentioned, and 'Mary the Elf', and Asta's. Then Aldarion suddenly became quite agitated and shouted: "I'M THE ONE THAT SAID FROM THE BEGINNING THAT IT IS CONSIDERED SUICIDAL IN THEATER CIRCLES TO PERFORM RECENT HISTORY UNLESS YOUR WRITER WAS AN IMPORTANT FIRST-HAND WITNESS!!!!!"

Some heads turned at that unexpected outburst, and Coldan saw the young serving-maid who seemed to be Ingold's niece or something start up and hurry away. Most of Aldarion's following words were drowned in the buzz of other voices, but he clearly caught "that idiot-boy Coldan" and "too thick to understand".

Maybe it was the wine that did it, maybe the grudge of jealousy that had boiled under a closed lid for too long; probably both, but at any rate he decided at this point that he had had about as much of this man as he could stand. He rose up, stepped over to the other table and stood defiantly in front of Aldarion.

"So you zink I'm too zick to see zrough vat you've been up to viz zat Mary role? Maybe you should explain zen. But keep it simple, so I understand."

[Mnemosyne]

Trouble. Brinn bit back a curse. If it weren't for the ache in her foot she'd already have been on her feet, at least to learn what exactly was the matter. She breathed slowly, through her nose, and counted to ten in her mind. Then she smiled.

"Thank you, Miss Thiliel," she said. "If you don't mind, do you think you could return to the common room? If any sort of violence breaks out, get your uncle to stop it, and send the fighters to me, one at a time. Otherwise, just let me know what happens when you pick up this tray." She took a bite of the food and forced herself to taste it before swallowing. "This is quite good," she said.

Now, could she stay as calm as she sounded, without quite knowing what was going on? She hoped that Rollan--if indeed he was there--would make things better, if they really were a problem, and not worse.

[Mnemosyne]

Rollan, in the meantime, had gone to Smaug's cart in search of his sister-in-law. He'd remembered the nervousness of Coldan that morning, and wondered if he'd managed to get up the nerve to talk to Asta. There was only one way to find out, after all, and if he hadn't--well, at least Asta would be on the alert. Maybe he'd even be able to get his own thoughts on the matter in, though she could be remarkably stubborn in that sort of way. "Better two than one," he told himself, "especially when one, at least, has some experience in the matter."

He mounted the steps of the cart and knocked on the door. "Asta?" he said. "Are you there?"