The King's Players RPG

[the phantom]

Aldarion stared after Sador and Aerwen as they wove through the guests towards the garden. Sador had pointedly left him free to speak with Gloredhel, and Aldarion wondered whether this was intentional or merely an excuse to have his own private conversation with Aerwen. But either way, he was now free to discover what Gloredhel knew or suspected.

"You know this place much better than I, no doubt."

Gloredhel nodded and immediately turned to her right, followed closely by Aldarion. After walking the length of a hall she turned left and Aldarion found himself emerging from the front of the house. A swath of grass and a couple low hedges stood between them and the main entrance and the drive where several coaches sat unhorsed and unmanned. In the opposite direction towered a wing of the house, jutting out towards the wall surrounding the estate.

Gloredhel continued her stride along the side of the wing, and finally she turned right so as to place them on a narrow walk between the wall and the wing. The walk took them to the corner and then back away from the road again, this time on the wing's opposite side. Quite soon there loomed ahead a tall iron gate. It was unlocked, and Aldarion found himself entering a dimly lit garden.

Gloredhel stopped, glanced around, and then leaped at Aldarion arms flung wide. Aldarion laughed aloud and twirled her in circles as they embraced. "You're still freakishly strong," commented Aldarion as he set her back upon her feet and rubbed his neck. "My head nearly came off there."

"Poor you," said Gloredhel. "Do you realize how boring the theater has been for Amlach and I since you left? In order to stay sane we started bringing an imaginary Aldarion along with us each day." Gloredhel laughed. "You know Amlach- he's an excellent mimic. In rehearsals he's always changing his voice and saying the sorts of things you'd mumble to us."

A blur of amusing rehearsal moments flashed through Aldarion's mind and again he laughed. Only now that he was happy did he realize how long it had been since he had felt genuinely light-hearted. "Well, I suppose it's good to know that in some fashion I'm still involved in the Swan Players. Will Amlach be able to come and see me soon?"

"He'll try," answered Gloredhel. "If he does make it, I assume you'll want us to sneak out at night and fetch you, and we can get into some sort of mischief?" she asked mischeviously. "Minas Tirith is a large place."

"Remember at that inn where we kept replacing everyone's beer with tea, ha ha!"

"Or when you impersonated the Prince and those guards... ha ha... let you in and you... *cough* stole all of his pants, ha ha!"

Aldarion doubled over, remembering how they had barely maintained a straight face the following day upon hearing a messanger crying the official proclamation- "His highness's pants have been removed by parties unknown. Please inform a palace guard if you know anything of this outrageous crime."

As the two of them slowly controlled their breathing, Gloredhel sighed. "But I suppose you'll be too busy with your show to have any fun?"

This reality brought Aldarion's mood crashing down instantly. "Yes," he answered slowly. "I can't recall ever having so much to do in so little time, with such high stakes."

"No matter," said Gloredhel. "We'll celebrate after your play is a success!"

Aldarion nodded his head. "I hope so."

"They'll miss us inside soon, so I'd better hurry and say this," said Gloredhel, now speaking very quietly. "Amlach and I aren't entirely certain what is going on, but we have a suspicion that my father and members of Sador's family are trying to push Sador and I together, and that this is tied to gaining Father a position- perhaps master of revels. Also, Sador fancies himself a playwright, and I imagine he has some scheme or another to foist some work of his upon your troop, or perhaps the Swan Players in exchange for his father giving my father the royal title."

Aldarion opened his mouth to ask a question, but Gloredhel waved him aside and kept speaking. "Finally, I know that Sador wants you around for some reason or another, and so you need to be wary of his manipulation. And I can't really answer any questions, because this is all I know. Frankly, I'm not even certain if their ends are good or bad. All I can really say is to be on guard."

[Pitchwife]

The unmanned coaches parked on the drive between the street and the oaken doors gave Coldan good cover as he whisked through the main entrance in the outer wall surrounding the premises. Once in, he threw himself down on the ground behind a low hedge that shielded him from the house and crawled on his hands and knees towards the right-hand corner of the western wing. Rounding it, he found himself on a narrow walk between the outer wall and the mansion itself. Fortunately the windows were set high enough that he could avoid beeing seen by pressing himself closely against the house wall and ducking under the ledges.

Grateful for the music inside that drowned the crunching of gravel under his feet, he made his way along the wing. It wasn't long until he found what he was looking for: an unconspicuous, modest door near the end of the wing (probably for the use of servants and suppliers); further ahead a small gate in the far side of the outer wall opened on a lane parallel to the front street where Asta and Harrenon were waiting - the perfect way of escape when all was done.

Heart pounding, he grabbed the door knob and tried to turn it, but he wasn't surprised to find the door locked. Well, anything else would have been too much to ask; luckily they had come well prepared. Breaking the door open would make noise, but Asta's dragon fire would take care of that.

He might have stopped and gone back there, but having got so far, he decided to go all the way and explore the other sides of the house as well. Between the end of the western wing and the back gate, a man-high, ornamented lattice of cast iron closed off a broad space on the backside of the house - a garden, judging from the looming treetops. Climbing across was risky, because many windows looked out on the garden, but quickly done, and on the other side there were enough trees, bushes and hedges to provide ample cover.

Suddenly a gush of light, music and voices spilled out through a Fornost window on a portico-shadowed terrace protruding between the ends of the two wings, and two figures emerged - one male, one female. Coldan wouldn't have recognized the woman even if he had seen her before, but the man's identity was made evident even from a distance by an unmistakable limp.

Coldan's heartbeat quickened. No matter how high the risk, he couldn't pass by a chance to eavesdrop on Sador and maybe catch a hint about the villain's plans - maybe even a hint where to find Aldarion! Reminding himself to be careful, he got down on his belly and crawled as close to the terrace as he dared without being seen by the couple - close enough to hear Sador saying: "...make her feel sharp repugnance for him."

"You are confident indeed in your art's power - " That was the woman's voice.

" - not refuse my offer." Sador again. Silently Coldan cursed the music and chatter from inside that allowed him to understand only snippets of the conversation. Who were they talking about? Who was he, and who was she? " - triumphant place in his old company." Could that be Aldarion and the Swan Players? But still, who was she?

The woman's next words were lost again, but then the music stopped just long enough to let him hear clearly: "The King's Players mean less than nothing to this man." More wretched music. " - trifled with the heart - another player, his rival - strong emotion ... on the company of the Swan - only a shadow's ... pumping petty pride." If anything more was said before Sador and his companion returned inside, the music drowned it out completely.

Coldan ground his teeth in exasperation. He had heard enough, but yet not enough. Part of that had obviously been about Asta and himself, part about Aldarion's ambition and his yearning for the Swan Players, of that he was sure; but who was the female person Sador had referred to earlier? Asta again, or some other woman - maybe the mysterious lady of Dol Amroth? And most of all, was the man trying to blackmail Aldarion somehow, or counting on him to play along with his ignominous machinations willingly? There was only one way to find that out - get Aldarion out of there, the sooner the better.

Listening to Sador and his companion had cost precious time, and Coldan feared that Asta might do something rash if he took too long. Neglecting caution in favour of speed, he scurried towards the eastern end of the garden -

- and dropped behind a bush just in time to avoid running into another man and woman. Fortune favoured him tonight, because the two were too busy embracing enthusiastically to notice him. He froze with surprise when the man spoke and he recognized Aldarion's voice.

It took every bit of willpower he could muster to force himself to lie still while the couple reveled in fond memories and boasted of pranks that Rollan would have been proud of acting on stage, but he pricked his ears when their talk turned to the Cormare play, and when the woman began to talk about Sador's schemes, she had his full attention. It was plain by now that Aldarion was far from being a captive, but his companion at least obviously thought him innocent of complicity with the lameleg's plans and indeed saw fit to warn him: "All I can really say is to be on guard."

Having heard so much, Coldan could keep still no longer. He had to have a word with Aldarion himself - preferably alone. Groping around in the grass for something to throw, his hand found a fallen nut from a nearby tree; he picked it up and flung it at Aldarion's skull precisely and hard enough to make the playwright cry "Ouch!" and turn in indignation towards him.

[Galadriel55]

The common room was packed. Thiliel saw many familiar faces among the guests - many customers came every day, or almost every day. Rollan was sitting near the bar, looking grim. Sereth went by once or twice. Thiliel thought she saw another actor come in, but she could not remember his name.

It seems that everyone is served, Thiliel thought tiredly. She packed a supper tray for Celebrindal, like Rollan asked her to. Looking around for Ingold, she saw him coming out of the hallway. She came over to him.

"Uncle, I am going to the wagons for a short while, I need to bring Mistress Celebrindal her supper," she said.

"Go, then, lass," he replied. "But why? I thought she could walk with her crutches," he continued with a slight frown.

"I know not, but she did not come here, and Master Rollan - her husband - asked me to bring her some food."

"That is curious. But it is not one of my cares, and I shouldn't be prying. Go now. I just want you to be careful. One of the troop's men does not look good to me. The one who looks like an Easterling."

"He seems nice enough, uncle," Thiliel objected. She was greatful to that man for not tying her up in a wagon.

"He seems to be nice and goodwilling, lass, but that does not mean he is. Not all men are honest. Did you not see him yesterday with that other actor, the one with the blade? It was lucky that they did not come to using their weapons inside. I know those Easterlings," said Ingold, pointing to a battle scar on his forearm.

"As you say, Uncle. I'll be careful," Thiliel agreed, though half-heartedly. She took the tray from where she left it and went outside. She smiled slightly to herself, knowing that by this time Coldan would be gone to save the playwright from the double-faced Lord Sador, and that she has no one to be wary about.

Was Coldan double-faced as well? Was he trying to befriend, while secretly aiming at another purpose? Yet he was so sincere, so truthful, when Thiliel heard him talk. So was Lord Sador. He was as charming as one could be to all around him, but he is in a plot against the Players. But how can one speak so sincerely, and lie? He is an actor. He acts. He acts on stage, but he is like any other person the rest of the time. He is also an Easterling. No good can come from this people. But he only looks like one. Inside he is as good as any man of Gondor.

Thiliel was coming close to the carts. If it wasn't for Coldan, she would probably be lying in a dark corner of one of them, unable to move or make a sound. Wasn't Asta's solution the surest way to make her keep her ilence? She shivered. No, he is a friend. A true friend.

Thiliel only found her way because she has been to Celebrindal's wagon a few times before. Clouds, threatening to rain, blocked the stars and the moonlight. It was so dark that she could hardly see the outlines of the carts, forget about telling one from another. She knocked tentatively and said, "Mistress Celebrindal? It is Thiliel. I have supper for you."

[the phantom]

Aldarion grabbed the back of his head. "Ouch!" he said quietly yet fiercely as he turned round, prepared to scold whatever youth it was that had thought it appropriate to hurl things at his head. But to his surprise, straight in front of him on the other side of a bush stood Coldan, his face clear in the light streaming through the nearest window.

"Get down!" hissed Aldarion immediately, gesturing emphatically with one hand while finding Gloredhel's shoulder with the other. Swiftly Aldarion drew her forward to his side and pulled her with him over to the bush behind which Coldan was now crouching somewhat, but still plainly visible.

"I said get down, Coldan!" whispered Aldarion, but rather than looking at his fellow player he instead turned towards Gloredhel as he spoke. Having already understood his intentions, Gloredhel also turned towards Aldarion and grasped his hand for good measure. To an outside observer, it looked every bit as if Aldarion and Gloredhel were deep in private conversation.

"Stay hidden and speak softly," murmured Aldarion as he smiled at Gloredhel. "Sador mustn't discover you're here. Now- why are you here, and how many of you came?"

[Nerwen]

Asta paused in her relentless pacing.

"What can be keeping him? Harry, there's something wrong!" She glared at the mansion, lair of villainy that it was. "I believe– I believe those fiends have captured him too!"

She should never have let Coldan go into danger alone. It was not as if he had any common sense– no-one in the Company did, save herself, of course. And now Sador and his crew of miscreants had him! Perhaps they had started to torture him even now. A hand of ice seemed to be tightening its grip around her heart.

"Now, Asta," said Harrenon uneasily, "you're not going to do anything... rash, are you? Please?"

[Pitchwife]

Coldan had had to get up in order to hit Aldarion's head with the nut, but it wouldn't have taken the playwright's urgent hiss to make him drop down again behind his bush as soon as he was sure he had Aldarion's attention. He wasn't quite as daft as Aldarion seemed to think, and although it irked him to talk to the man while grovelling on the ground, he could put up with it for the sake of secrecy.

At least Aldarion's reaction had made it clear that whatever he was doing here, he wasn't in league with Sador, which was a great relief. He also obviously thought the woman with him - the lady from Dol Amroth? - could be trusted, and from the way she had spoken about Sador earlier, Coldan was inclined to agree with his judgement (not that he had much of another choice).

"Harry and Asta are vaiting for me in ze street", he whispered in answer to Aldarion's question. "Ve hev come to rescue you, zinking you had been kidnapped, but apparently ve hev been mistaken. Ze others don't know ve're here, zey're still down at ze inn - at least Brinn and Rollan, Amdír and Sereth; I heven't seen Branor today, or Therian either." He couldn't quite keep an edge of sarcastic reproach out of his voice as he continued: "I might as vell ask you vat you are doing here, amusing yourself at a party in ze Sixth Circle vile our time is running out and ze troupe is falling to pieces. Sador zinks you care less zan a straw about us, and I'm beginning to zink he may be right."

[Anguirel]

"So," Aerwen murmured, eager to steer her brother away from the rather disagreeable subject of Aldarion's moral qualities, as well as to dismiss the uncomfortable thought that had imposed itself upon her vision, "what parts are you planning to apportion for this new Celebrindal of yours? And...to whom?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask," Sador replied dismissively. "The title character, the immaculate princess, Idril of ancient Gondoline, will be played by..."

"...the dainty and perfect Lady Gloredhel," Aerwen filled in, rolling her eyes a bit. "And then of her two suitors, obviously, the sly and insinuating high born noble, her kinsman, and the great-hearted, upstanding outsider, a hero of Men, will be played by yourself and Aldarion..."

"Well, yes..."

"Respectively..."

"No!" Sador cut in cheerfully. "That is my presence of mind, you see; not respectively, at all. For this evening, sister, my golden locks shall eclipse my...unreliable...gait. I shall make the player take Maeglin," he explained with satisfaction, "After all, he first made his name with a villainous part, and he can continue that way...while I show my quality as the valiant..."

"Yes, yes, very well, I understand. And Circilie? Didn't she say she wanted a comic role?"

"Conveniently enough, I have just such a one...Salgant of the Harps, a part I've swelled specially with bawdy songs and low wit..."

"And," Aerwen muttered, lowering her voice and blushing more strongly than the night could let on, "myself?"

"Don't trouble yourself at all, sister. I know how shy you are in company, and I have made no arrangements to further disturb your evening. Ah, that will be the dinner gong."

One of Lady Ecsichil's strongest - perhaps only? - beliefs was in the virtues of punctuality; and her predominant skill was in the orchestration of eating on a grand scale. These two qualities combined to make the sounding of her dinner gong an affair both impressive and precise; an enormous embossed iron shield, wholly impractical for use in war, was struck by a hammer that required two able bodied servants. The echo resonated with mighty efficiency, only gaining strength as it ricocheted around the branches and hedges of the garden. Sador nodded quickly at the sound of it, and said "Let's get into place. I've arranged for you to be on Aldarion's table, so I hope you aren't bored of him yet." Then he hauled himself awkwardly back over and through the Fornost window.

Aerwen followed him a couple of paces behind. She was smarting at her brother's insensitivity in failing to know her better, to offer her an artistic as well as mechanical role in the evening. But she was also, against her better judgement, a little frightened. The more she tried to dismiss it, the more she was certain the squat, furtive shadow in the corner of her eye had been a man - and she would swear, too, he had been no servant to Dol Amroth or Burlach.