Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[Folwren]

‘Holy smokes, Skald!’ Bror exclaimed bursting into the kitchen like a great bolt of lightning. ‘What are you doing?’ Skald looked up at him, not in the least amused, apparently. There was a black look in his eyes, angry at being disturbed. ‘Don’t just stare at me,’ Bror said sharply. ‘That’s the third mug full you’ll be drinking in less than two minutes.’

Skald’s glare became darker, even less amused by the thought that this was the second time in a row that he’d been watched from the doorway. He deliberately lifted that third mug of ale to his lips and began to down it, too. He likely would have finished it in as little time as the others, but Bror took the remaining two steps to him, and with one blow sent the whole mug, ale and all, spinning from Skalds hand. Bror lifted his chin in defiance as Skald bounded to his feet.

‘You don’t just try to get drunk on a normal bases, Skald Stonecut,’ Bror said, thoroughly alarmed at Skald’s behavior. ‘Is Riv dead or something? No, there are all the marks here that he’s come home. What’s wrong with you? Who were you talking about? What orcs?’ He knew what orcs, he took that back. ‘What dark demon? Did Riv tell you what he saw?’

There were too many questions pounding around in his head. Skald - usually patient, and rarely angry unless he’d done some trick or prank that he didn’t necessarily deserve - looked on the verge of strangling him, and no where near the humor of answering all the questions. But the more Bror realized this, the faster some undefined fear and terror rose inside him. Had something happened to Riv? Was the City of Elves already destroyed? Were the dark forces on their doorstep?

The thoughts sped through his mind faster than can be recorded, and in expectant fear, he waited for Skald to make some sort of reply.

[Arry]

‘Not drunk enough yet, little brother. Not by half!’ Skald brought his grim gaze to bear on Bror. ‘How could he ask me that? How could he even think that?’ Skald’s words slipped out with a strangled gasp, his eyes shifting to where Riv and Unna had disappeared down the hallway. With a resigned thud, he sat down, cradling his head in his hands.

‘Fetch me some tea, Bror. Strong tea. And a chunk of bread to sop up what ale’s left in my belly.’

He fell silent, watching his brother move about the kitchen . . . slicing the bread . . . putting the jam on that he knew Skald favored . . . making the tea . . . For a moment the ordinary scene skewed and it was him fetching a mug and bit of bread for Riv in earlier days – with him asking advice on this and that and Riv there to give it.

I shall have to do that now . . . he thought with a start. That’s what he’s asked me, and I’ve said yes. He shook his head slightly. No amount of ale or Dwarven spirits’ll make it disappear . . .

Once the tea and bread were set before him, Skald mumbled a thanks and nodded toward the chair opposite him. ‘Sit down, Bror. My head’s clearing a bit. We need to talk. I’ll be needing your help on this if it comes to pass.’

With an economy of words, Skald laid out what Riv had told him of the embassy from Sauron to the Elves. He spoke of Riv’s fears and the request that Riv had made of him. ‘So that’s what happened just before you came in to find me trying to drown myself in with a skinful of ale.’ He gave a half-hearted laugh. ‘And now isn’t that just what Riv hadn’t asked for!’

His face became more serious. ‘It is something we do have to think about. And while I have the highest hopes none of this will come to pass, still we need to think about it . . . the both of us . . . you and me. You’re the next Stonecut brother in line. You’ve got to help me take care of Riv’s family if he’s not here, and if we’re both not around, then it falls to you completely.’ He took a long pull at his cooling tea. ‘Of course this could all be a moot point if we can figure out some way to keep us all hale and hearty.’

Skald sighed resignedly, knowing it wouldn’t be so.

‘There’s more Elves from Lorien coming through to Ost-in-edhil, though. They’ll still need us to go with them to see them safe to the city . . . and what if the King decides after all that his friendship with Celebrimbor is worth sending a great number of our warriors to his aid. And even if he doesn’t, there will still be the battles we have to fight with the Orcs if we’re to try to pick up refugees from the city. Where will we take them? To Lorien?’

‘So many unanswered questions,’ he said quietly. ‘So many . . .’