Treachery of Men RPG

[bill_n_sam]

A crease of irritation flashed across Dag’s brow at Tora’s words, but he quickly regained an expression of calm detachment. Curse the girl for trying to deflect Ulfast’s ire onto herself. If the young chieftain’s wrath was roused over this, Dag’s part would not be overlooked merely upon the mewling of a farmer’s daughter. If Ulfast chose, he would have both their heads, and no-one to stay his hand. Her explanations would not be enough to save either of them.

Dag looked directly at Ulfast and saw the glint of a grim sort of amusement in the man’s eyes. The lordling was baiting him, waiting to hear what words would come tumbling out of his mouth. The truth would be frowned upon; a lie, if discovered, unforgivable. Dag chose his words with great care.

“It’s as the girl says, my lord. She has indeed filled the air with the useless prattle of women, while I repaired her father’s knife.” Dag gestured at the cold blade. “As you well know, the metal must rest between firings, to temper the blade and make it strong. I thought ‘twas better to put such time to good use, rather than stand idle.” Something of a mongrel mixture of the truth, but no outright lie that could be brought back to him. Dag gambled on his experience with those who looked upon him as a subordinate, calculating that Ulfast would not be willing to risk seeming ignorant of the armorer’s craft in order to challenge the smith's explanation.

The corner of Ulfast’s mouth twitched slightly, and, without looking at her, Dag could tell that Tora was holding her breath in fear of what their chieftain might say. A long moment of silence stretched out between the three, Dag sensing that Ulfast was making some calculations of his own. Hoping to tip the balance in his own favor, and that of the girl, Dag offered into the silence, “I can not complete the sword by tonight, my lord. But I can bring it to the point where it bears the appearance of a fully crafted weapon. You may carry it and no-one would know that the blade has not been fully worked. What need would there be at such a celebration for more?”

[Kath]

'Ulfast! How could one even think they could get close to such a man? And who would want to?'

Bergr's first thoughts upon hearing of his assignment were hardly positive. Ulfast's reputation far preceded him, and though Bergr knew there were times that the lordling walked alone and without guard, he also knew of his derision toward the Borrim. No, speaking with Ulfast himself was certainly out of the question, another option would have to be found.

Fastarr's words of concern echoed his own thoughts, and the suggestion that a servant should be spoken to rather than the lords themselves seemed good to him. Yet he knew that servants who would speak against their masters to those that asked were few and far between. But perhaps, yes, perhaps his help toward the women of the village might allow him to find another way to get information. He knew that one of those he delivered meat to was a friend of the wife of Gora, Ulfast's manservant. He also knew that this wife bore little love for her husband, and so it was possible that she would speak to him. He shook his head slightly in amusement, well aware that he was thinking like a gossiping woman, but if it helped them find out what was going on then so be it.

Sitting up in his chair Bergr offered his explanation.

"My lord, if I may ... I believe I may be able to gain knowledge of what is going on around Ulfast from the wife of his manservant. The words of a woman in such matters are often overlooked as idle talk, yet I think she will provide information of use. Also, she may know about more than just Ulfast if she talks with the wives of the servants of the other brothers. I will attempt to arrange a meet with her tomorrow and if nothing comes of it then I will find another way."

Lifting his mug to his lips once more he mused over the possibilities, and found himself hoping that Gora would be able to provide something of use, as the prospect of getting close to Ulfast was not one he relished.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Khandr listened carefully to what Bergr and Fastarr had proposed, nodding his head in agreement, "Fine ideas, both of you. Yes....servants and their wives are often excellent sources of information. There's been a time or two when negotiations have bogged down for a treaty and I managed to get a key piece of the puzzle from sources just like these. Definitely go ahead and do these things. Still, I wonder, if we might try another approach at the same time, perhaps a wider one that snares in more than a few victims at once."

Khandr glanced over at Fastarr and fixed his eyes on him, "It was what you said that made me think of it. You spoke of 'the hunting grounds'. A man feels most comfortable dealing with what he knows rather than sitting inside with the women folk. You three have skills in hunting that wholly eclipse my own and, if I am not mistaken, Embla also has had experience with such things. . Even the Ulfangs would have to admit privately that the Borrim's ability to ferret out and track down game far exceeds their own. Perhaps we have been remiss in our duties to our hosts. We need to pay them back for their generosity by offering to use our skills to lead them out on a day of hunting in the deep woods to track down a great boar or bear. We will promise them a hunt the likes of which they have never seen! Confidences are often exchanged deep in the forest that would never be shared inside a great hall. And as to the Elves," Khandr's voice trailed off. "I have heard that, even with all their book learning and strange tastes, they still relish the chase after a mighty buck. So perhaps, just perhaps, we will snare both the men and the Elves in the same net."

"I can see it now," Khandr mused. "All the common folk will be gathered on the green at dawn, preparing a fine breakfast for those lords and their vassals about to depart into the woods. And of course I will gladly supply all the victuals. Perhaps even the women will ride off to hunt rabbits and other small game, and exchange confidences along the path. If we keep our eyes and ears open, we may hear much, both from the great lords and their humbler retainers. And, of course, each of you will be appointed as a guide for the particular lord whose name you hold."

"But would the Ulfangs accept such an offer? Wouldn't they see through what we are doing?" A small voice piped up from the edge of the table.

"I do not know. I have not brooched this topic with any of the Ulfang lords. But we will never know till we try. What say you? Do you think this is an idea worth pursuing?"

[Celuien]

In spite of himself, Ulfast was amused by the scene playing around him. The girl's frightened, nervous loyalty and the smith's clear irritation at her interference intrigued Ulfast. There was, perhaps, more between them than the matter of the knife. Whether or not it was true, that was a tale Ulfast could use if needed to keep the smith under his control.

"Blame, girl? I am certain there is none. Master Dag is a man wise in his craft, and I think that he would do nothing foolish, even at the behest of so charming a maid." A smile danced faintly on Ulfast's face as he spoke, eyes darting from the girl to Dag in search of any hint of embarrassment from either.

"As to the sword, you speak truly. I should have no need of your blade in battle tonight. Come then, as you say, and present it in ceremony this evening, to be taken back to the forge when the feast has ended."

The smith's forehead seemed to lose a few of its creases. "Yes, my lord," he answered.

From inside, Ulfast heard the faint tones of a melody. The voice was low, but clear and sweet. "Who sings within?" he asked.

A frown passed quickly over Dag's brow. "It is my wife's sister, my lord."

"A fine voice."

Dag remained silent.

"Ah! How foolish of me. Of course. It is said that a truly fair-voiced maid, both in song and in story, lives within the village. I had forgotten that she was kin to you. Her name is Mem, is it not?"

"Yes. Mem is my wife's sister."

Ulfast grinned. "Then, my good man, will you not bring her with you when you present the sword tonight? Her voice would grace our halls well." Dropping his voice as if in confidence, Ulfast added, "I say this not in command, but ask it rather in friendship. What say you?"

The smile remained on Ulfast's lips. Here was a chance for a test of the smith's loyalties.

[Nogrod]

"I do not know. I have not brooched this topic with any of the Ulfang lords. But we will never know till we try. What say you? Do you think this is an idea worth pursuing?" Khandr ended and looked at the party questioningly.

Well, there's the difference between a lord and a retainer... One thinks big and the other one doesn't. One thinks of Great Hunting parties involving everyone around while the other thinks of some petty servants drunken in some shadowy Inn as he doesn't wish to see anyone of rank face to face... Fastarr shook his head and smiled openly to his own thoughts. Soon he noticed his lord's gaze on him and was embarrassed as he clearly understood how Khandr might have interpreted his expressions. Khandr needed not to stage the question.

"Oh, Khandr, I do hope you excuse me my lord. I was just laughing to the narrow-mindedness of my own thought... That was an excellent idea and you'll have my backing for it. But when would that take place?" Fastarr tried to evade any overall attention to himself as he was not used to it and felt it a bit awkward in general, not to say when he had been caught behaving in a way inappropriate to his stature among the kinsmen.

"The day after tomorrow the earliest. We couldn't possibly make the arrangements for tomorrow and if these Ulfings have any decency they'll throw a party in honour of the Elven embassadors tomorrow anyway", Khandr replied and looked at Fastarr quizzically.

"So this pathetic village is getting into a festive season, then?" It was Hugo who had come to clear the table from the dishes of the last courses, bustling about the visitors.

"Some hot honeyed-wine perhaps? And some cookies too?" Fastarr asked Hugo as he was collecting the last plates from beside his shoulder. Khandr nodded and Hugo went his way to fulfill the request.

There was a moment of silence around the table as everyone seemed to be chewing the things that had been said. Fastarr felt again that he was not able to hold his tongue. Have I drank too much or have the others had too little? Just too many things going around in my head...So he opened his mouth again.

"If we wish to have all the options open here, would there then be any believable cause for which you could send me as your caretaker to meet one of the brothers, my lord? I'm ready to do it if you wish and if I have the cover of an official mission by you." Fastarr glanced around and continued.

"I understand it's your duty to inform Ulfang himself of your intentions regarding the staging of the Great Hunt, but maybe I should be sent by you to approach one of the brothers with some details concerning the arrangements afterwards? I could then at least try to sneak out something as we could easily speak of the ambassadors and all that has followed then while dealing with the bussiness."

Fastarr looked at Khandr and emptied his goblet.

[Lalaith]

The feast had, on many levels, worked out better for Embla than she could ever have expected. For one thing, she had the petty pleasure of her tetchy exchange with Fastarr, an encounter where she felt she had the advantage. And now, she had been given a task by her anxious husband – to shadow the strange female, Jord.

Embla paid little attention to the intense and anxious conversations which followed Khandr’s spying plan. Instead, she mulled over her own assignment – an assignment which pleased her greatly. Firstly, this Jord was the person in the settlement who interested her the most. Obsessed with her own situation, thinking herself little more than Khandr’s chattel, Embla assumed that Jord’s s relation to the Lord Uldor was something similar. But yet the woman Jord carried herself with an air of pride and independence. This in itself excited Embla’s interest, even envy. Naturally inclined to subterfuge, she relished the prospect of stalking of this dark, strange woman. Whether she would then share any of her insights or observations with her much-resented lord was of course another matter.

But there was another, more healthy side to Embla’s pleasure in her task. This suggestion of her husband gave her an unprecedented licence to roam, a personal liberty she had long yearned for. One of Embla’s chief grievances about her life as a Borrim wife was the restrictions placed on her movements and interests. Women like Briga, Borrim born and bred, happily accepted their restricted sphere. But it was not what she, Embla, had been accustomed to, and the confinement chafed her to distraction. Now, Khandr had as good as told his second wife she could wander as her fancy took her – with his blessing. Embla smiled to herself in anticipation – and for once it really was a smile, not a smirk.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"My friend," Khandr smiled broadly and thumped his retainer on the back. "An excellent idea. Excellent indeed! To go and speak with Ulfang's sons on a matter pertaining to the hunt would work well, both in terms of getting information and setting matters on a sound, practical basis. Fastarr, Bergr, and Hunta--perhaps each of you should pay a visit to the lord whose name you have been assigned and ask his preference as to the particular game he would prefer to hunt. That way, we could arrange for two or even three smaller contingents to set out after different prey."

Khandr stood up and walked over to the window staring out at the street. He rubbed his hands together and shook his head slowly, "Yes, I think that would work well: to split up the party so that the three sons would not always be side-by-side. Perhaps they would open up a bit more. "

"And my dear wives," Khandr looked around to where Briga and Embla were seated. "Neither of you have said anything, at the table but then you are less accustomed to speaking in company such as this. I hope our plans meet with your approval. Perhaps you can find some reason to approach the ladies assigned to you in the next few days, either to hear their preferences in the matter of game or, more likely, invite them to a breakfast on the green the morning of the hunt, should they prefer more sedentary occupations."

It was Briga who spoke up first. "My lord, I have no complaints about the instructions you have given us. Though I would rather be home near our children, I know these things must be done. I only ask one simple thing. We must have at least two days to prepare for the food and other practical arrangements."

"Two days? Then two days you shall have.... I can not go see Ulfang at least until tomorrow. Indeed I will be lucky to get in to see him even then. And the hunt can not take place until at least the day after that. So you and Embla will have your two days to get ready and pay a visit to the ladies."

"What bothers me more are those Elves. I have not even been called to the hall or officially told of these messengers' arrival. So how can I boldly introduce myself and invite these visitors to a festive event? Perhaps I will have to let Ulfang know I have heard of their arrival and ask him to approach them for me. A ticklish situation. Very ticklish indeed!"

[Anguirel]

Even as Khandr was wondering how to make contact with the Elven ambassadors, the same Elves were attempting to find the Borrim diplomat's tent.

Lachrandir had ridden in pursuit of boars in the marshes and copses of Thargelion. He had pursued and slain fell creatures on the outskirts of Neldoreth. He had scoured plains for Orc fugitives after the Dagor Aglareb. He had seen fortifications rise from empty vales, and helped Caranthir to plan the severe sword-strokes of Noldorin roads.

But searching for Khandr was proving a greater challenge than any of this. The cobbles had long since given way on the paths to mud; the dwellings and the air grew more unlovely; the streets harder to define; even the widest tents and most tall-gabled houses were difficult to distinguish from each other.

"Stange, the beauty of this eve's sky," he muttered to Tathren, "and then these mud-spattered homes beneath it, animals and beasts, leather hide and mud brinks, all illluminated by Arien's bronze rays..."

Tathren looked slightly surprised, but did not comment. Clearly he had never seen his adopted uncle in such a poetical mood before. Lachrandir had apparently also been alarmed at his own words; he shook his head, as if to clear thoughts that disturbed him.

"We have long past the smithy the Ulfing back yonder told us of," he concluded. "One of those two larger homesteads must be the...house...of Khandr. "

"Perhaps both," Tathren suggested.

"That's a sharp thought, boy. These men are not as we are, nor do they observe the customs of the Edain in the north; I have heard of some with more than one household, to keep up more than one wife, though it is a thing I understand little of."

An agreement silently passed between them, and they walked quickly up to the opening which served as the threshold of the left-hand building. No attendant seemed posted at it, but voices could be heard, and a dim firelight glimpsed within.

"Am I now at the House of Khandr?" Lachrandir called in the Ulfing dialect, which he spoke with facility if little formal mastery of intonation...