Treachery of Men RPG

[Durelin]

Being cemented in her body meant that Jord had to physically follow the man she wished to talk to, and so by the time she felt it good to approach him, she was in a foul mood. She always had to be careful who saw her and Uldor together, and where anyone saw them. Her worries were not many: she knew that likely the fools thought her his mistress or something equally demeaning, but she still had them. The less she was seen at all, the better. And so it pleased her that Uldor did not notice her until she was practically breathing on the back of his neck.

“You will hold to it,” Jord whispered. The man appeared unaffected, but she sensed his surprise, and a bit of something else that she liked. “The brave and honorable Uldor keeps his promises, just like his father…” A smile formed slowly on her face as she spoke. This boy was sworn to Morgoth just as Ulfang was, and they both knew there was no turning back for him any more than there was for her. But that was the end of their similarities.

Uldor sneered at her, and Jord considered the joy of reaching out and patting his head – a reward for being smarter than he looked sometimes – once she really had him on a leash at her feet. She searched his eyes and gave him the sense she was boring into him whenever he met her gaze, giving him yet another reason to let his eyes travel elsewhere. He would learn never to meet her gaze, with naïve defiance and arrogance from fiery and uncontained youth, soon enough.

“I thank you for your flatteries, woman,” Uldor maintained an air of carelessness as he threw the comment at her. Jord internally struggled, but kept her own mask firmly wrapped around her face, and her body practically laughed. He will be thanking me for more, and begging for anything I will give him, soon… Always soon. But she had the patience of millennia.

“Always the gentleman. Even to those Elves, I imagine, and even when they announced their request? Seven thousand? It will indeed be a lot of blood on your hands.”

The man looked at her, his face finally betraying a bit of shock. She continued to smile, knowingly, and she let her eyes slowly look Uldor up and down, lingering on certain parts, whether or not she found them interesting. Obviously some found them to be quite interesting. He was fairly handsome, by human standards, though also approaching old age by them. Yet in mind and spirit he was a boy to her, fresh-faced and hotheaded.

Not allowing him time to respond, she gave him one more question to consider, “And whose blood would you rather taste?”

[Dimturiel]

The company had now become larger than Tora had expected, and she was wondering whether she should not excuse herself and go and see if Dag had not finished her father's knife. The hunter that Gunna had bought made her uneasy, although why exactly she could not explain. Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed so different from the people that Tora usually saw. Or maybe because one like her usually mistrusted those that were not part of her little community, and took time before coming to regard them, if not as friends, then at least as people from whom there was no evil to be feared.

The gloomy topics that had been discussed until Gunna and her companion came were now forgotten. Instead, the women began gossiping of small family affairs, showing their curiosity and indignation, shaking their heads, and talking as if no dark cloud would ever threaten their living. Tora was somehow pleased by this. She felt her heart lift, knowing that there were people that still talked of such insignificant matters with the same eagerness as they had before discussed the designs of the elves. She turned her attention to Kata, although the tale of the apalling deeds of Halma's younger daughter were quite known to her, as she had heard many people taking of them. To many this event held as much importance as the coming of the elves, and to some even more.

The women were shaking their heads with disbelief as Kata spoke, and Tora too, tried to show her disapproval of such behaviour, although deep inside she did not feel half as apalled as the others. And being known to speak always what was on her mind, she did not hesitate to share her oppinion with the others.

"Well, it surely was a dreadful thing, running off like that with her sister's promised man," she said, "but you should not judge her too harshly. I know the poor girl quite well, and she was always telling me how much she loved him, and she was so sad when she heard he was to be her sister's man. She really cared for him , you know. Of course, this does not excuse what she has done, no, indeed, not at all."

[Folwren]

“Taste?” Uldor said slowly, looking at the woman who had materialized beside him, like some spirit or wraith from another world. “Who’s blood would I rather taste? Foolish woman, you know nothing of war, do you?” There was a strange, dark flicker in her immeasurably deep eyes, but he didn’t care to analyze it. “Does it matter to me who I kill? One way or another, all their blood will be spilt. I do not care if it is with elven or orc blood that my blade and hands are wet with, so long as it is not in vain.

“The blood of seven thousand Ulfings will not be on my hands at all,” Uldor went on, turning away from her and walking up the gravelly path. “You speak as though I were king already and could make these decisions. Since you appear to know everything that happened today in private ears, you should know that my father did not give me the choice of whether or not we obey the elves’ summons. He gave me the job of seeing that they were fulfilled and to figure out the best way to conduct the muster.

“I would he had asked me first for a word in private,” he went on bitterly. His voice sank and he spoke more to himself than to his fair companion. “These elves are treacherous. They care nothing for us. They grasp for that gem their father made and strive ever to fulfil their wretched oath. That was the oath that I heard today.” He shuddered again with the thought of those words spoken in his hearing.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hunta thought that he would go mad with the tattling of these women. Either that or the boredom of their idleness would plunge him into a sleep from which there would be no waking. He wondered what madness had led him to accept the errand that brought him here…what was there of use that he could possibly learn amongst such people?

His boredom must have been evident for a younger woman came and offered him some more tea. He accepted it with a tilt of his head and some clumsily muttered words of gratitude, but he did not sound convincing even to himself. He was not meant for small spaces and polite conversation, his place was elsewhere, with the ground for a bed and the branches for a blanket. The sheer presence of their nattering numbers weighed on him so that he felt as though he we smothering, and overcome by the sensation he shifted in his chair uncomfortably and in the agitation of the movement knocked over a low stool that stood near him. The conversation faltered and all eyes were upon him. He glanced about, much like a buck cornered by the hounds, and his hand reached mechanically for Laylah’s ruff for reassurance, but his hand met only air. Instinctively he whistled for her and the great dog came trotting through the door to curl up at his feet. Too late he remembered the woman Gunna’s request that Laylah remain outside.

He could not have mishandled the situation more, and in a fit of desperation he tried to divert their attention from his many lapses. “This girl who’s run off,” he asked, groping blindly for something to say. “Is it, well, is it really that terrible what she’s done? So long as everything is done…properly, I suppose is the word…then what matters who she was engaged to? I don’t understand the ways of your folk in these matters….I understand precious little about these matters amongst my own folk to be sure. But if I were ever to marry…well…” he felt himself heading into uncharted and dangerous forests but pressed ahead “I wouldn’t want to marry a girl who’d been stopped from running off with someone else just because she was supposed to marry me. I would want her to, well, not run off…if you see what I mean…”

The profound weight of his own idiocy pressed upon him like a stone.

[bill_n_sam]

As the conversation had shifted smoothly into the familiar paths of juicy gossip and merriment over their neighbors’ little foibles, Gunna had breathed more easily. She had never in her life expected the Northerner to actually accept her polite invitation. But the women, for the most part, seemed largely to ignore his unlooked for presence, perhaps more in the way of one who stoically ignores an itch when circumstances deem it too impractical or impolite to scratch. Old Dulaan threw the stranger several pointed looks, and little Jóra had gone to refresh his tea, but, for the moment, Gunna allowed herself to listen in amusement and feigned consternation at Kata’s tale of Halma’s daughter.

"Well, it surely was a dreadful thing, running off like that with her sister's promised man," young Tora spoke up. "But you should not judge her too harshly. I know the poor girl quite well, and she was always telling me how much she loved him, and she was so sad when she heard he was to be her sister's man. She really cared for him, you know. Of course, this does not excuse what she has done, no, indeed, not at all."

Gunna was aware of Tora’s own loss that was surely part of the conviction that lay behind her declaration. There had been no such love either expressed or felt between herself and Dag, Gunna reflected, when first his proposal of marriage had been made. In fact, the proposal had come directly from Dag’s father, and, although she knew Dag, Gunna had never once spoken with him directly before this proposal arose.

To Gunna, the prospect of marriage had loomed ahead of her as a stubborn obstacle to be fought against and overcome, if at all possible. Her decision to make herself lifetime caretaker of her blind sister was one which she would not cast aside, not for any man. And she had prepared herself to do battle with whatever skill, wit or craft she possessed to foil any attempts by her father to marry her off. Therefore, she had been totally caught off guard when her very first insistence that she could not, would not, leave Mem behind was countered with Dag’s suggestion that Mem should accompany them to the new western lands, as a welcome member of his household. In fact, the couple’s very first conversation had consisted entirely of Gunna grilling Dag as to the motivations behind his offer. Dag had listened patiently and finally, when Gunna had stopped to draw breath, replied good naturedly, but in solemn tones, “If we are to marry, you must be content. If I force you to leave Mem, you will make my life a misery. Bring her, if that is all it takes for us to have peace between us.”

In the end, there had been no forcing, no coercion. Now, Gunna couldn’t imagine happiness without her stubborn, quiet husband and their beautiful child. Like Tora, Gunna felt great sympathy in her heart for both the daughter and the already spoken for boy. Love, it would seem, dares all, endures all, survives all, even when others decree it should never come into being in the first place.

Gunna, now seated by the low burning fire next to Tora, jumped slightly at the sound of a stool knocked to the floor. Her head turned instinctively to the corner where the hunter sat, his face bearing a startled look of embarrassment. But, instead of apologizing, the man pursed his lips and whistled. With a bound, his huge, hairy dog galloped into the small house. Gunna was more startled than offended. The dog seemed quite obedient to its master’s commands. In fact, it curled itself right up at his feet and settled down at once without any upset. But still, the mother in her worried about the baby, who played happily in Mem’s lap. Before she could formulate a protest though, the man was speaking.

“This girl who’s run off,” he asked, hesitantly. “Is it, well, is it really that terrible what she’s done? So long as everything is done…properly, I suppose is the word…then what matters who she was engaged to? I don’t understand the ways of your folk in these matters….I understand precious little about these matters amongst my own folk to be sure. But if I were ever to marry…well…” He faltered a moment, but went on. “I wouldn’t want to marry a girl who’d been stopped from running off with someone else just because she was supposed to marry me. I would want her to, well, not run off…if you see what I mean…”

Gunna did see, with perfect clarity. So, despite her misgivings, this Borrim, this Hunta who had manfully put up with the unenviable task he had been assigned by his mistress, was not so unlike her own Dag. Men of action, not words. Men who cared little for conventions, and listened to their own hearts. Strong, skilled men who would not hesitate to use force to protect themselves, or those they cared for, but who realized that force brought to bear in a marriage was folly. Perhaps, then, these northern cousins were not as alien as they might seem, at least some of them.

Unknowingly, Gunna smiled at the hunter, who had stumbled to a halt and looked even more embarrassed for having spoken. “What you say makes sense, Hunta.” Gunna replied. “Although unfortunately, I’m sure many will not see it that way. Halma and the boy’s parents, certainly. In our community here, there are many traditions surrounding the betrothal of a man to a woman. Such a promised union creates ties between one family and another, ties not easily discarded. Our people are bound by many such ties, each to the other. Ties of blood, ties of marriage, ties of loyalty cemented by oath giving.” Her thoughts flew briefly to Ulfast and his sword, but she forced herself to bury that nagging fear deep in her heart. “I’m sure it is the same with the people of Bor. In one way or many, you must be bound to the others of your clan. To break those ties must be frowned upon very severely, is it not so?”

The question had been asked in all innocence, but a stillness fell on the room as each considered Gunna’s words and what the arrival of the elves would mean to the loyalties of every family, every man, woman and child, from chieftain to ambassador, from farmer to smith to hunter.

[piosenniel]

Káta’s brow furrowed at first as Gunna began to speak. The man’s word’s had not made sense. It was the family, the parents, who made the marriage. Sentiments of love, more like to be feelings of ‘need’, were transitory. It was the ties made between families; the passing of herd-wealth between them; the status, the position gained, which formed the first basis for the wedding of one family with another. Parents strove to choose well for their children as well as for the family. At least that is how her mother and father had done for her. Affection, her mother and her grandmother had told her, would come with time as the man and woman came to know each other; to fit together as husband and wife, as parents themselves.

And so it had been between her and Grimr.....and so it would be for her sons and daughter when the time came.

Káta pursed her lips and cast her eyes briefly toward Granny. Now what had that old woman been talking about to Mem? Fálki, was it? She gave Mem an appraising look. Hmmmm..... Fálki was still young; Mem even younger. And what with the move to this new land and the effort of settling the family in, she and Grimr had not yet turned their thoughts to the making of ties between their family and another family of those other Ulfings who had come west. She gave a sly little smile and nodded her head. This might prove a suitable family with which to make ties. I will speak with Grimr tonight about this, she thought to herself. And perhaps we can arrange some little get together. I have been blind to my son’s inclinations! she chided herself.

‘Jóra!’ she called out as her daughter set down the teapot near the fire and looked to be settling down to hold the baby once again. ‘Help Granny up, won’t you little bird?’ She smiled at Gunna. ‘We need to be getting back, Gunna. Grimr will worry if we are too long away. Mem, so good to see you once again. I’ve no doubt your skilful fingers will turn the wool we’ve brought into more of your fine thread.’

Granny and Jóra joined her near the doorway. ‘I hope you enjoy the goose we brought. Grimr and the twins brought it down just today.’ She made her good-byes to Tora before leaving, and nodded politely toward the Borrim man. ‘Come on, you two!’ she prompted her daughter and Granny. ‘Jóra, bring the cart near, won’t you? And, yes,’ she said grinning at the pleading face the young girl had put on. ‘You can take the reins for the trip back.’

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Erling had shivered by the thought of elves reading his thoughts, it was a thought that did not please him one bit.

He had always felt uncomfortable about the elves for their different manners. When he had heard the first rumours and seen the first indication that they possessed magical powers, he had not really believed it, but with time as the rumours had increased and Erling him self had seen the elves; he had no choice to believe it and thus he became more suspicious of them.

That they also possessed the power to read his mind was a thought almost unbearable for Erling. Thoughts were not something to be read by every one who might wish to do so, his thoughts was his alone and he was very careful about not sharing more of them than he had to.

"read ones mind you say. . . I had no idea that they where so sinister. One cannot help but wonder how they achieved such powers, not by growing crops one suspects" Erling looked over his shoulder as if he expected the elven lords to stand lurking in a corner of the cottage."hmmm our old lord as well you say, you should be careful Grimr, I would not want to see you get involved in something you cannot control" Erling took a draught of the ale as he looked straight into the eyes of Grimr. "In fact I think I shall join you to the next meeting, I mean one needs clarity about these elves and two minds thinks better than one, Imagine what several could do" Erling said with a glimpse in his eye.

Grimr nodded in approval and no other word was uttered about the subject that day, after some lighter conversation and a considerably amount of ale Erling said his goodbyes and left for his home.