Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Folwren]

“It’s their birthday, is it?” Kénan said. “Hm, well, awful thing to have happened on their birthdays. Aye, aye...Iari’s her name. I’m sorry you didn’t spot her, thanks anyway.” The two dwarves stood in momentary, awkward silence. Kénan’s thought wandered unbidden to the events of Balin’s death.

“It was foolishness. . .you know,” he said gruffly. Vitr looked at him, surprised at his abruptness. “Balin need not have died. It was vanity and foolishness.” Kénan could kick himself. He wanted to kick somebody. Presumably whoever had let Balin to go alone, as he had picked up that he had. Anger prevented him from speaking for a moment and he looked towards lord Balin’s body.

During that pause, Nali approached him and leaning in towards his ear, whispered quietly, “Excuse me, but Trór requests your presence in council.”

“Does he indeed?” Kénan asked, shooting a sharp glance at Nali. “Well, well. You’ll excuse me,” he said, turning to Vitr. The dwarf nodded and Kénan turned to go. As he turned, however, he spotted his two grandchildren, and Kéni was straining his neck to see over the crowds. Their eyes met and Kéni lifted his hand and waved urgently.

“Nali,” Kénan said, catching his sleeve. “Tell Trór I shall be there directly.” And before Nali could answer, Kénan was off, weaving his way through the crowded hall to Kéni and Iari. “What are you two doing here? Kéni, you should have taken her home by now. What’s the meaning of this? Iari, what are you crying about?”

“It’s lord Balin, sir,” Kéni answered defensively. He didn’t fear Kénan’s bad humor. “You wouldn’t expect her not to cry for him?”

“No, no of course not,” Kénan said, rather apologetically. “There, there, child,” he patted Iari gently on the shoulder. “What is it, Kéni? You wanted to say something to me, didn’t you? That’s why you waved?”

[Kitanna]

Iari shrank away from her grandfather. He looked angry or annoyed. Though his tone toward Kéni suggested the source of his angry was not his grandchildren Iari was frightened. After seeing Balin's body just laid out as it was, she wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl back into her bed. It had to be safer there.

“What is it, Kéni? You wanted to say something to me, didn’t you? That’s why you waved?”

"What happened to Lord Balin? I thought there wasn't any immediate danger in the mines." Iari held tight to Kéni's hand.

"There's always danger to be found around here, Kéni." Kénan explained the situation to his grandson while Iari listened closely. When it seemed Kénan was finished relaying his tale she tugged gently on Kéni's sleeve.

"I think I had better get Iari home," he said. "When will you return, Grandfather?"

[Lilly]

On the walk home, the children had been as skittery as copper-winged beetles on the rim of a forge’s firepot. They jumped at every little sound, real or imagined; at every touch of air that moved about in the hallway; at each flicker of light from the lamps which hung along the hallway; and especially at the shadows that wavered and grew large and then retreated once again along the way.

The anxious feelings persisted even as they’d crossed the threshold of their snug home and even though they had seen their mother bar the door....something the Silverfists had not done in all the time they’d lived here. Lys had done it only because she thought it would make the twins feel more secure; yet, as she’d hefted the stout oaken beam into place she shivered as she felt the prickle of her own unheeded fear creep down her back.

‘Let’s have some hot tea with honey,’ she said turning round toward Tív and Tíva. ‘And maybe a good measure of goat’s milk, too....eh?’ She motioned for them to come with her into the kitchen. ‘Tív, you stoke up the fire. And you, Tíva, fetch the milk and honey please.’

They were soon gathered together in a little knot, sitting on the couch. The fire crackled on the hearth filling the little silences among the trio as they sipped their drinks.

‘Is Papi coming home soon?’ Tív asked, watch the swirling patterns in the warm liquid as he dipped his finger in his mug.

‘Yes, soon. I’m sure of it,’ Lys replied, smiling reassuringly at her son. ‘Until then,’ she went on, pulling the warm, woolen blanket that lay across the couch back down and around all their legs. ‘We’ll snuggle in here and wait for him.’

Calling on memories of times with her own mother when she and her brothers were young, Lys told the twins stories of her mother’s family....light and happy tales to drive away dark thoughts. For the while, at least.

[Groin Redbeard]

Kenan made a hasty retreat from Nali’s side. Nali thought this was queer, but the reasons were quickly revealed as he saw the old dwarf talking with his grandchildren. Nali waited for a moment to see if Kenan might rejoin him, but those thoughts were soon put to flight as several minutes past and Kenan showed no sign of leaving his children.

It made no difference there was another dwarf to summoned. Nali thought that he might find Korin with her brother, Kor, but he could catch no glimpse of either. The next logical place to look would be the ale kegs, Kor was not fond of drink, but his boyish sister did. His assumptions proved correct as he saw Korin guzzling down flasks of ale, ably assisted by Kor.

“Exuse me, Korin, but we request thy...” Nali responded as calmly as possible, but he recoiled and grimaced as Korin turned round and exhaled in his face. It smelled like she had drunken an entire keg of ale! She frowned at Nali and offered him a mug.

“Uh, no I couldn’t,” Nali responded, raising his hands in protest, “I have need of thy judgement in a council that will soon commence at the Easter-Gate. Shall I presume that thee will come?”


Trór

All these events were coming on too fast! Trór had not even the time to mourn Balin’s death with his cousin, he could not even tell Nisa that he could not be with her. It would be cruel to have her here the disheartening news from a stranger instead of him, but there was no helping it. Even if Balin were alive this responsibility would still rest on his shoulders, being the stern soldier he was.

Up and down the hall he walked in hopes of catching a glimpse of Frar but he was not to be seen. It was not until Trór had given up and began walking towards the Durin’s Bridge that he caught sight of Frar, standing all by himself leaning against the tall pillars that lined the walkway to the bridge. Trór approached cautiously, but made enough noise with his feet as not to surprise the venerable soldier. When Frar did not stir Trór waited, but Frar stood as if in a daze, his eyes here half closed and he stood as if carved of stone.

“Frar?” Trór was starting to feel concerned, all to often he had seen soldiers crack under the strain of battle, and while he considered Frar to be above that, the strain of today might be enough to break any dwarf’s will.

“Frar, are you alright?” Trór asked a little louder and shook his friend gently on the shoulder.

Startled, Frar snapped his hand to his belt and stepped back from Trór. Trór raised his hands to show he had no intention of attack, it was plain to see that Frar had been lost in his own thought and had not yet come to his right frame of mind.

[Durelin]

Kórin simply glowered at Nali, snorting a laugh when she saw him cringe. The feeling’s mutual, she thought, but moving her lips and forcing sound from her throat seemed like too much of a bother right now. Kórin dearly hoped this was not the sort of Dwarf her brother would be many years from now. She didn’t think she knew of a Dwarf who wore his britches any tighter than Nali, and who could puff up his chest in a more pompous fashion as he told you what was what. And he always knew…

“Kórin will be there as requested, Master Nali,” Kór spoke up, speaking curtly. He ignored his sister’s angry glance. Much to her frustration Kór was generally rather fond of the old Dwarf, and appreciated the value of his experience. But at the moment… The way he looked at Kórin! he thought angrily. Kór took another drink from his mug. Well, he can think whatever he likes, he thought.

“He can think whatever he likes,” Kór heard himself say, as if he were talking in his sleep. He stared down into his empty mug, his face burning, and told himself that he should not refill it. Kórin’s hand fell roughly onto his shoulder, almost causing him to drop the mug.

“That’s right – they can think whatever they want. And I’ll think whatever I want about their council!” Kórin exclaimed with defiance, as if she had expressed an opinion about the council other than apparent indifference. “Say, why don’t you go?” she asked, shaking her brother by the shoulder.

“Well, for one thing, they didn’t ask me,” Kór replied.

“Well they should have,” Kórin said simply.

Kór smiled.

[Thinlómien]

"Now what is all that noise?" Vigdis muttered to herself, rather annoyed. Can't they be any more noisy with their festivities? She still had the stone block to finish. After that, she thought she would go to celebrate, but only after that. She would not enjoy spending hours after hours feasting anyway.

The noises grew even louder. Vigdis halted and listened. There was wailing, and crying and angry shouts. Something was not quite right. Vigdis laid the chisel on the block she had been working on and hurried away from the cavern chambers.

When she arrived at the Twenty-First hall, people were hysteric. Children were being taken away, and adults were crying and tearing their hair. She spotted Tror slipping out of the hall. Her heart skipped a beat. So, they had returned.

"What has happened?" she asked. She feared she already knew the answer.
The ancient woman she had addressed lowered her head in grief. "Our beloved Lord Balin has fallen. He was shot by an Orc when he went to look at Kheled-zâram."

"Where is he now?" Vigdis asked. The steadiness of her own voice surprised her.
"His body has been taken to the Chamber of Mazarbul," the old woman replied.
"Thank you," Vigdis said and turned to leave. She could hear the crane break in sobs and mutter: "Cold, heartless woman..."

Vigdis joined the people waiting for an entrance to the chamber. Most of them were crying, and sorrow was in everyone's eyes. A people mourning a celebrated ruler, she observed. A valiant, loyal people to grieve so deeply.

The queue moved and Vigdis could glimpse a body draped in a red cloak. Then people moved again, and all she could see were the mourners, the faint candelight and the dark, endless roof.

Finally, there were just a few mourners on the line before her and nothing was blocking her view. She gave the body - rigid, pale, kingly - a brief glance but then lowered her head and fixed her eyes on the stone Balin was laying on. A simple, beautifully shaped block of white stone. Stone like that could be quarried from the eastern slopes of Bundushathûr and...

The queue moved again and suddenly there was no one between Vigdis and the white stone. She stepped forwards and slowly lifted her eyes from the stone to the dwarf on it. In the candlelight Balin's face was calm, neither happy nor sad, and his white beard had an almost golden shade. Vigdis lifted her hand to gently touch the man, but refrained from such act of disrespect. She let her hand fall to her side and blinked. There Balin lay, as unmoving and peaceful as a moment before. He was dead.

A loud wail escaped from Vigdis' lips. She shrank to her knees and bent her head. Tears were gushing forth from her eyes.

She had no idea how long she stayed there, kneeling and weeping by Balin's dead body. But eventually she started to become more aware of her surroundings, the cold, familar stone around her, the soft candlelight, the slowly gathering impatience of the mourners in the queue. She forced herself up to look one last time at Balin's face. She could now see a gentle smile hidden in his unmoving features. Weeping quietly, she knelt and kissed the stone like so many mourners before her. "Farewell, my Lord," she whispered, "we will never forget you, and all we do now will be in your honour and memory."

She rose and walked away from the Chamber of Mazarbul, holding her head up high, tears on her cheeks.