The King's Players RPG

[Pitchwife]

"So it seems", said Coldan. "Anyvay, I zink finding him will lead us to Aldarion. It can't be too difficult to find out vich vay zis carriage vent - if it was such a pompous vehicle as you describe it, people vill hev noticed it." He looked at Harrenon again. "So vat about it, Harry? I'd be glad to hev a native Gondorian in zis rescue party; if ve run into trouble, you vould be better zan I am at talking us out of it, seeing how vell you handled zat situation in ze smithy yesterday; and if ve need to break Aldarion out of some kind of lockup, another pair of strong arms can't hurt."

"Well", Harrenon said after some pondering, "I guess somebody has to take care that you two don't go astray." That earned him a shriveling stare from Asta. "But do I understand right that you mean to keep this expedition hidden from Brinn?"

Coldan nodded. "She's got enough to vorry about already; better not burden her viz zis."

"What about the girl then?" Harrenon pointed at the serving maid. "Can we trust her?"

"We could bind and gag her and lock her in the wagon", Asta suggested. The girl paled, and her eyes widened.

Coldan shot an exasperated glance at Asta. He had noticed that she wasn't particularly fond of Ingold's niece, but that was no reason to scare the maid like that. "Don't be silly! Ingold vould kick us out of ze inn."

He turned to the girl. "Don't mind her, Thilwen - zat's your name, isn't it?"

"Thiliel, sir", she corrected him, still somewhat timidly.

"Right. Thiliel." Now how exactly did you talk to a fourteen year old girl? He tried his best to imitate Brinn's reassuring tone, but still the words came out a bit more brusquely than he meant them. "You vant us to get ze play ready in time for Cormare, don't you?"

Thiliel nodded.

"Zen ve must find Master Aldarion and bring him back. But Mistress Celebrindal still needs rest to recover from her injury, so she shouldn't hev to vorry about zis. If she - or anybody else - asks for us, tell her - tell her Asta and I hev gone looking for spare parts to change Smaug into a spider; and after zat ve vant to be alone viz each other for a vile. Or vatever you zink works best." That didn't cover Harrenon, but it probably wouldn't occur to Brinn to suspect him anyway. "But if we're not back by ze morning bells, it means ve're in trouble, and zen you should tell her ze truth, but not earlier. Can you do zat?"

[Galadriel55]

It was the weight and importance of Coldan's words that made Thiliel put herself together, although she was still under the impression of Asta's suggestion. She recovered from the fright just enough to understand the graveness of the matter.

"Can you do zat?" asked Coldan, making sure that she knew what she was putting herself up to.

"Yes, of course, sir," the girl replied. She became calmer, now that she knew for sure that no one really wants to tie her up and hide her in some corner of the mysterious wagons, which just a few minutes ago enchanted her and now made her shiver. "I really want to see the play. I am sure you worked very hard to put it together, and I don't want it to fall apart."

"Zat is very vell," Coldan told her, while Asta glared mistrustfully, "it vill help us a great deal if you do zis."

"You should return to the inn, or Ingold might think that we locked you up for real," the other man winked at Thiliel with a slight chuckle. The comment made the girl's heart leap and her breath catch again. She must have jumped, because that man - was his name Harry? - laughed. Still not very impressed, but appreciating the joke, Thiliel gave all three a nervous smile and dropped a curtsey before turning away and walking quickly towards the entrance of the inn, carefully avoiding the long shadows of the carts.

Thiliel wondered if Asta was always that scary, and why she was so cold towards her. Perhaps she didn't mean what she said, and didn't intend for it to sound so harsh and threatening. But it was still said. How does Sereth stand her? And how does Asta not kill everyone around her, if she has such a temper that she'd want to bind me in one of the wagons overnight. Overnight, because I doubt that anyone would find me in there before next morning... These thoughts made Thiliel recall Asta's interferance with the quarreling men the night before. What would she do with the metal tool if the room wasn't filled with people?...

She was quite sure by now that her uncle will be upset with her for the prolonged absense. She wanted to quietly slip inside, and pretend that she had a headache and was in her room the entire time. Thiliel was not sure that the excuse wold work. Maybe he checked her room already. But there was still a chance of escaping it...

However, that chance was taken away very soon by Ingold's figure standing in the entrance to the hall. Thiliel ran to him and flung her arms around him. For the first time during her stay in Minas Anor, he didn't hug back. He didn't say anything, but Thiliel could feel his anger, and, concealled under it, pain and worry. The silence was uncomfortable, unnatural. She felt it pressing on her from every side. She wanted to break it, to ease it somehow. Ingold always told her plainly what he did not like, and she always tried her hardest to fix it. It was never like this. This time, Thiliel felt, she has made a worse blunder than spilling milk all over the place or serving someone chicken instead of beef.

"Uncle, I'm sorry," she whispered when she couldn't hold it any longer, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I did not mean to... to disappear like that..." Ingold looked into her eyes. There was question and accusation in his gaze. "I didn't go anywhere far, I was here in the yard," Thiliel's voice begun to crack, "I didn't do any trouble. I just forgot that... forgot about the time..."

"Forgot about the time? I haven't seen you around for almost an hour! The sun is almost setting!" Thiliel looked out the window, to see Anor low in the sky, still an hour or so from setting, but still lower than she thought. "You are almost grown up, and you have to act as such," Ingold continued, "You cannot go off for so long without telling me. You have to be more responsible. And what could be so interesting that it captured your attention for all this while?" This question made Thiliel squirm. She knew that he didn't approve of her spending so much time talking to the actors.

"I... Sereth showed me one of the carts. You know, Sereth, the actress." A semitruth though it was, it made the anger in Ingold's eyes melt. All that was left was a tired old man who had too much to worry about without his niece's games.

"Go clean yourself up, and then come back to the commn room," Ingold said, "the men are going to be coming in again soon. I will need your help delivering the food. Go, lass."

From the last words Thiliel could tell that she was forgiven, and the incident was past. Yet she couldn't stop thinking about it, and about her other misadventures this day. Her step lost its spring, and she went about her chores without her usual energy and eagerness.

[Mnemosyne]

“What were you thinking?” hissed Brinn.

“Sweetheart,” said Rollan, slowly, “what are you talking about?”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about! Your slow and stupid act might work fine on stage, but don’t even think about pulling it on your own wife!”

Rollan took a step forward and folded his arms. “I know what you’re trying to do, Brinn. You’re trying to save the show at all costs—even if it means misleading your own sister. That’s not the woman I married.”

“I wasn’t misleading her!”

“You were going to. And she has a right to know.”

“You don’t know that, Rollan. I was obviously going to have to tell her eventually, but… not here, not with so many people poking their heads in and Asta like to see an assassin in every shadow. And just because there wasn’t a dragon doesn’t mean there can’t be one in the play, no matter what Lady Elanor says. But since you stepped in and ruined everything—”

“I ruined nothing. Just as you said when we got here, the worst that happens to us is we get run out of the White City, and all that means…”

“Is Seri cries for weeks, and Aldarion and anyone else who has a dream of grandeur leaves us, and—”

“And we move on, and we make other people smile. This is hurting you, Brinn, and you can’t see it.”

“Really?” said Brinn, sticking her foot out.

“When, exactly, did this show become about you? It wasn’t last night. You weren’t cagey, trying to manipulate people; you were listening to them!”

“About me? I run this group. I keep all of us—crazy, drunk, flighty, headstrong—together. I got us out of the Swan Players mess. And in case you couldn’t tell, we’re dealing with politicians, and you can’t just listen to them; you have to—”

“You don’t have to become them. I know you won’t ask for my advice, but I’ll give it anyway. Leave. Cancel the show. We’re in over our heads; let someone else try to take on this mess. You’re not Bard the Bowman, so don’t get yourself fried fighting the dragon.”

“Get. Out.”

Rollan reached out towards her, but Brinn slapped his hand away. “Out,” she said. “And don’t come back until I tell you.”

Rollan opened his mouth, as if to say more, but shut it and left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Brinn burst into tears.

[Mnemosyne]

Brinn stumped over to her bed and sat down heavily, grabbed the pillow, started dabbing at her eyes. No one to look in on her, but she would not look weak. She couldn't remember fighting with her husband this hard; he always took her side, always understood, always backed her up...

And oh, how she needed it! Even at the best of times, the King's Players were not exactly the picture of harmony; worse than most families, they bickered. She had to keep them together, but here, now, they were unraveling in her hands--three of them vanished, at least two barely restrained from upsetting the man who might happen to be their worst enemy, and now even Rollan turning against her...

All she'd wanted was to make this work, to see the smiles, tears, gasps of the audience. When did that become so difficult a task?

Since we set foot in this fool City, she thought. And now everything was going upside down and everyone in the Players but her was making it worse... And she restrained, chafing at her sprained foot, able to accomplish more than anyone else...

She blinked, more tears slipping from her eyes. When had she become so selfish?

Rollan had tried to tell her.

Rollan was right. When had she become so attached to the play, to putting it on with no thought to the Players who acted in it?

Elanor. She shook her head--she knew that the hobbit hadn't meant any harm, but she had been so charming, so eager to see the play...

She'd gotten into Brinn's heart. And wasn't that what the old tales about Halflings said? How they could smile, wink, leave a friendly word, and suddenly you found yourself falling over your feet to help them? She thought back to the start of the tale, the real start, with four weak, utterly stupid hobbits setting off on their own, and somehow magically attracting all these folk who were suddenly willing to help them, not just for the peril of their task but because they were so vulnerable and still so endearing?

...at least, they looked vulnerable. Actually could defend themselves in a pinch, obviously, but you wouldn't think it, looking at them, so you had to help them. And they probably didn't even realize they were doing it.

And there were three of them at the court, and one of them had managed to work her way into Brinn's heart in the space of two hours, and now she'd lost her sister and her fool husband, because she'd gotten so caught up in the play that she couldn't even listen...

It wasn't fair, she thought, but she cut it off.

No. No blaming things on anyone else, especially not a hobbit who didn't even realize what she was doing. This was her problem, her fault.

Brinn curled into a ball, and wept alone.

[Mnemosyne]

Rollan walked up to bar and ordered the strongest drink they had, ignoring the stares and the mutters. He didn't feel like apologizing for what he'd said--not yet--but he'd be lucky at this point if Brinn let him back in at all, and losing someone like that hurt.

Besides, she had a point--several, really. Asta looked about ready to burn the entire inn down, and this when their numbers were already so reduced, and, quite honestly, she was the only person with the patience and the will to keep them all together. More than any other member, the Players needed Brinn, and he'd just made her job that much harder, and on top of that, told her that she cared more about the play than any of them...

He stared at his empty glass. They'd tried for children for years, ever since they'd married, but none had ever come. He wanted a family with Brinn, but she ached for it, and the Players had had to become in spirit what they couldn't have in body.

Rollan the Fool, he thought. He was too good at playing the part if this was what he did off the stage.

Well. Nothing to be done for it now. Looking around for a familiar face, he saw Ingold's--daughter? niece?--wandering amidst the tables, a little less cheery than he'd been. He waved her over and slipped her a coin.

"I'm sorry, Miss--" Dash it all, Brinn was the one who remembered everyone's name, not him!

"Thiliel, sir."

"Thiliel, but if you could bring my wife some supper at the proper time I'd much appreciate it. As much as you can be spared her other duties, just--don't press her or anything, but let me know how she's doing. I expect I'll be here late tonight."

[Dimturiel]

Thiliel was gone now and Harrenon was very thankful that Asta’s suggestion of tying her up had been disregarded. Otherwise they would have most likely found themselves in a dungeon soon and all the commotion with their silly play would have been the least of their worries. It was strange, Harrenon mused, how Asta could see danger lurking everywhere but sometimes did not seem to anticipate the consequences of her own actions. Now that he thought better of it, the prospect of joining a rescue mission with the two did not seem too attractive.

He was glad that Coldan had told Thiliel to find a way to explain their absence for now – his and Asta’s, that was. If anyone was to look for Harrenon that evening, then he would be the one in hot water since he would not have a plausible explanation for not being around. But, after all, he had the habit of being inconspicuous until there was need of him and Harrenon doubted very much that anyone would have any need of him that evening. He turned to the two others and looked at them questioningly:

“Well, now that the girl’s gone, what do we do? How do we plan this rescue? I think I should tell you, though, that we should be careful. I’ve spent the morning with Sador, after all. He’s…well, he's a romantic fool, but I have to hand it to him: he does not seem to lack imagination. Such people are not easy to deal with.”

[Pitchwife]

Harrenon's question caught Coldan somewhat unawares, as he hadn't yet given much thought to planning the mission in detail. He wasn't perturbed for long, though. Asta's kiss, fleeting as it had been, had given his self-confidence a huge boost and filled him with a gush of inspiration he had rarely felt poring over The Fall of King Bladorthin. He had not the slightest doubt in their ability to pull this off.

"Doesn't lack imagination, does he? Vell, neither do ve. Ve're ze King's Players, by Aule's hammer! I bet ve can still teach zat lordling a zing or two about imagination. -

Zis is vat ve'll do." He began to tick off the steps of the plan by the fingers of his right hand. "First we follow ze trail of ze carriage by asking people in ze city about it. Ven ve arrive at its destination, ve reconnoitre ze place - stealthily, to be sure - and try to find out vere Aldarion is being held. If ve can't discover zat from ze outside, ve sneak in - ve'll hev to do zat eventually anyway. Once ve hev found him, ve free him - ve'll need suitable tools, of course, in case he's locked up - and leave viz him as quickly and quietly as we can."

Harrenon didn't seem convinced. "Sneak in? I don't expect that to be easy. Don't you think the place will be guarded?"

Coldan bit his lips. "It probably will", he conceded. "Ve'll hev to create a diversion to distract the guards - you know, like ze last battle at ze Morannon vere ze King engaged ze army of Mordor vile Frodo attacked ze Dark Lord at Barad-dûr."

"I know what diversion means", snapped Asta. "What do you have in mind?"

Coldan's brow furrowed in pondering, while his glance wandered aimlessly around the interior of the cart as if looking for an idea; when it alighted on the looming frame of the mechanical dragon, his face suddenly lit up, and he flashed a mischievous grin at Asta.

"Could you spare some of ze stuff you use to make Smaug breathe fire?"