The King's Players RPG

[Mnemosyne]

"It is an opportunity of a lifetime," said Brinn, "and I have no doubt that you will rise to the occasion. Provided," she added with a wry smile, "that everyone else does as well. I don't want this to weigh you down, Aldarion, even if your role in this is not as reasonable as you make it out to be. I will speak with Coldan, learn his side of the tale, and, at the very least, try my best to keep this from distracting us from the work that we all need to be doing." She stifled a yawn. It really was getting late. Surely, if Coldan was as temperamental as Branor and Aldarion had made him out to be, it would be best to wait till morning when he had cooled off?

"Now," she said, "we had better start discussing the changes that we plan on making--tomorrow evening, perhaps? If the inn hasn't burnt to the ground by then, that is. I'll try to get everyone else to keep asking questions and gather information tomorrow. I'm hoping that someone can learn how the official festivities are usually run." She yawned again. "Thank you for coming and speaking with me, Aldarion. If you could find my husband on the way out, I shall need his help for me to retire for the night."

A few minutes later, Rollan came in. As he assisted Brinn he explained to her how he'd followed Asta to the common room and seen her dramatics, but Brinn couldn't keep the information in her head for long. "I don't understand it," said Rollan. "One moment Coldan's ready to declare his love for her, the next--"

"Rollan, love," said Brinn, "kindly stop talking before you implicate yourself in this matter and force me to get violent."

Rollan wrinkled his nose. Why, his wife hadn't a violent bone in her body, and he couldn't even recall her yelling, except on stage. Maybe that was why his advice on Asta had gone sour?

Women could be so very strange at times.

[Mnemosyne]

The next morning saw a smartly dressed child making her way down to the First Circle. She looked far too small to be wandering off on her own, so she must have slipped her parents. Only the streets were so deserted...

The child made her way into the common room of Ingold's inn, and patiently waited to be noticed.

[the phantom]

Aldarion rose early in preparation for his big day. He hoped to have an opportunity for a brief nap in the early evening, but it was no guarantee. Thankfully he had slept quite well during the night. He had worried that his frustrations from the day in combination with his anticipation would keep him awake, but in fact he had dropped off nearly immediately.

Fully dressed and geared up, a bulging bag of notes slung on his back, Aldarion crept quietly from his room and exited the Inn. It would take a bit of time to get up to Lord Borondir's home, and Aldarion was anxious to get started on his work.

[Formendacil]

Amdír hoped to get the balance of the set pieces in storage on Lord Hallas's estate in a single trip, though it had taken three to get them out there last season. As the original plan had been to haul all the set pieces in the day before, he felt as though he were a day behind, and there was a lot of fresh construction and redressing to be done before the stage would be ready.

With this in mind, he rose early, and headed down to Ingold's Inn, to see if he could drum any of the Players into assisting with the task.

[Pitchwife]

Born and raised in a wine-growing country, Coldan had thought himself immunized against the less pleasant side effects of excessive drinking by life-long training, but the hangover he awoke with on his second morning in Minas Anor was a stinker the likes of which hadn't plagued him since the aftermath of his fifteenth birthday. Fending off the walls that pressed against his maltreated skull with groans and curses, he dragged himself out of bed and to the wash-stand, where he filled the basin with cold water from a jar and plunged his head right in.

Gasping and sputtering, he jerked his head back up and shook and blinked the water out of his hair and eyes. The memory of yesterday's various altercations all came back to him now, starting from that ill-fated rehearsal with Asta in the afternoon. That had not at all gone as he'd meant it to, and looking back on it now, he had to admit to himself that he bore a good part of the blame for that; calling her out on her flirting with Aldarion hadn't exactly been the most tactful way to prepare for a declaration of his love. And that quarrel with Aldarion himself in the common room - thinking of it made him wince now. He had behaved like a drunken boar, and that in front of that Lord Sador, who was under orders to supervise them on behalf of their none-too-friendly employer. What had he thought he was doing?

After all, what business was it of his whether Aldarion had been playing fair with Asta or not? He was done with her, wasn't he? At least he had told her so, after she had called him a name that used to cause blood feuds where he came from, and still did at times. If Sador's rumours turned out to be true and Aldarion really had only used her to amuse himself, didn't it serve her right?

But then she had apologized to him - a rare thing for her to do under any circumstances, and to him of all people. And - and she had been crying before that. He clearly remembered seeing the traces around her eyes. And that had been even before Sador had told them about that 'lady of Dol Amroth', so -

He stared at the wall in shock when the pieces began to come together in his head.

"You, my friend", he told his image in the small mirror on the wall, "may vell be ze dumbest fool valking Middle-earth."

After that, it took him a while to gather enough courage to venture into the common room in order to look for some pickles and salted herring and find out whether there was anybody left in the company whom he hadn't offended yet.

[Formendacil]

Amdír had not been present for the dramatic events of the evening before. He had popped into the inn long enough to give Brinn her crutches, and then quickly trimmed and shod them in leather before heading home. Consequently, when he returned the following morning, he had nothing about Coldan in his mind other than the fact that the man was younger than he, and unlikely to be involved in reworking the script at the inn--and so, possibly available.

"Coldan," he called out to the man of Dorwinion as he entered the Common Room, "if I promise you a fine lunch at Lord Hallas's estate, can I have your assistance for the morning and the earlier part of the afternoon?"

[Dimturiel]

Harrenon got up early the next day. He usually did when they were so near to a performance as they were now, since he was usually to nervous to sleep much. And the Valar knew that he had reasons enough to be nervous now. Usually he would have been able to tell himself that things were bound to go smoothly in the end since they were all talented enough to avoid making fools of themselves. Now, however, he thought that if things went on as they had begun, they would be lucky if they did not get thrown out of the city even before they had a chance to perform the play.

The trouble that kept coming to them was actually the main reason why Harrenon had decided to follow Coldan’s instructions and keep an eye on Sador for a while. He himself did not really think that the new arrival was up to anything harmful, but he knew he would better have proof of that before he imparted his opinion to Coldan.

Frankly, Harrenon was slightly exasperated with the latter’s behaviour during the past few days. He had his own explanations for it, which had almost been confirmed the night before when Coldan had mumbled to him some nonsense about how he should never fall in love with a woman. Of course, there was also the fact that Coldan had asked him to keep an eye not only on Sador, but on Asta also. Yet Harrenon had no intention of doing that. He cared too much for his hide to risk annoying Asta.

Harrenon headed for the common room. Sador was not there yet. Good. That meant he had some time to eat before he started his new mission. Harrenon shook his head when the thought entered his mind. If I’m not careful, I’ll be turning into Branor soon, he told himself. The entire idea was absurd, he knew that. He also knew spying had never been a talent of his. He was bound draw attention to himself. And what was he going to do if anyone noticed his behaviour and challenged him about him? Of course, he could always plead curiosity, everyone knew he was not lacking in it, but would he be believed this time? The entire situation was absurd, but it was too late for him to turn back now.

“One day, Harry,” Harrenon told himself. “You’ll land into hot water. And then – maybe then – you’ll hopefully learn that it is fine to simply say no sometimes.”