Treachery of Men RPG

[littlemanpoet]

If the fool did more than place his hand on his knife, he would be sorry, thought Lachrandir. No, it seemed he had some sense, certainly not of propriety, but of pragmatism. One does not kill emissaries unless one wishes to go to war with those the emissary represents. At least this Uldor knew that much. Ah, yes, this Man hated him. Lachrandir did not miss the flash of true feeling, brief as it was.

Now came a veritable flood of explanatory words, with even a little Sindarin thrown in to perhaps try to impress Lachrandir. The Elf's lip curled up ever so slightly in amusement. Nor did it escape his notice the Man's shabby attempt at complex Sindarin grammatical construction. It made Lacrhandir's skin crawl. And now he does precisely that which I suggested and should have thought of himself. Let the fool try to save face.

“Is there anything else you are curious to know and to help me arrange or correct, Lord Lachrandir?"

The Man's sarcasm was offensive and revealing, showing no subtlety, of course, especially when he thought he was being the most subtle. The Man continued.

"You seem to have a keen eye, ear, and tongue and I’m sure you could help with a great deal if you set your mind to it. Come, who else do you see missing who might have forgotten about the banquet?”

The Man could not help sneering as he finished his jibing insult. Lachrandir was not about to allow himself to be caught up in a child's game with this boor. He regarded Uldor with cold condescension as he considered what reply to make; one had to be made since a question had been posed.

It was obvious who was not there. The Borrim ambassador was conspicuously absent. The invitation that had come to Lachrandir at the Borrim emissary's home had requested the presence of only himself and Tathren. But to mention this would be to descend into the tribal affairs of Men, which was beneath Lachrandir's dignity if not his notice. And for whom had Uldor been searching if not his father nor the Borrim - for why search for uninvited guests?

"It is of little concern to me whom you might think ought to be here and is not. All that matters to me is what answer the Ulfings give my lord Caranthir, and that need not be given tonight. Time enough in the next few days or so. But I see one of your brothers rises. Is he then master of ceremonies instead of you?"

But Uldor did not have a chance to answer Lachrandir's question, for Ulfast had begun to speak.

[Celuien]

Ulfast had wondered how best to announce the hunt, and found a perfect moment provided by his brother's foolish jibing with Lachrandir. He had heard the question about missing guests; though they were a large part of the people near the settlement, the Borrim had not been invited. But hidden in his pocket, Ulfast held the note from the missing contingent. Ignoring the continuing exchange between Uldor and the Elf, he stood at his place.

"My friends! I welcome you all to the Ulfing hall. We are here to honor our guests, the emissaries of Lord Caranthir." He turned towards Lachrandir, still half facing the crowd. "May the friendship of our people grow ever stronger through the years."

The crowd cheered, and Ulfast missed the Elf's reaction in his delight at the sour frown that crossed his brother's face. He faced the room again and held up a hand for silence.

"Yes, we have new alliances from afar. But, truly, can we not find allies nearer our homes as well? The Borrim have long dwelt among us, and yet we have not always been as good friends as we might have been - as we should have been." He glanced at Uldor long enough to see by his disinterested, irritated expression, that he knew nothing of what was to follow.

"That error shall be made right." Ulfast drew out the letter. "I hold here a letter from Khandr, who has graciously offered to host a hunt for the Borrim and Ulfings alike. He wishes for a closer friendship between our people - as do I. And so, on behalf of the Ulfings, I accept this invitation, in hope that we shall henceforth hold a greater bond of unity and good will."

The room cheered again, and Ulfast sat. He was so delighted by Uldor's furious scowl that his own visage appeared nearly as benevolent as he hoped his words had sounded.

[Durelin]

The countless thoughts that flashed through Embla’s mind were clear in her eyes, and Jord smiled as the woman turned to leave. She had successfully scattered some seeds that would not require much nurturing. There was enough already there for them to feed off of: the girl’s hate and anger, her wounded pride. Nodding to herself, Jord turned to spot the man she knew was waiting nearby, trying and failing miserably to look as if he just happened to be there. When Brodda caught her gaze on him, he approached her.

“I cannot say I expected to see you again so soon, Brodda. What now?”

Her tone remained simply uninterested – she was in too good of a mood with her current thoughts to waste her time really snapping at him. Uldor’s servant relayed his master’s message to her, and her mood was hardly dampened. Not only was she firmly in the Borrim girl’s mind, but apparently she was in the Lord Uldor’s favor enough to be invited to yet another charming little gathering.

Absolutely charming…and she was sure the Elves would find it equally so.

Brodda led the way to the Hall of the Ulfings, Jord gliding along the dirt streets as if she had a fully armed and richly adorned escort. Uldor’s man hesitated at the doors – it was obvious the banquet had already begun. Jord doubted there would not still be a place for her, though, and she did not care about the Ulfings’ attempts at propriety, so she gestured toward the doors and gave Brodda a sinister smile.

The servant pushed the doors open and stepped aside as Jord made her way inside without hesitation, just in time to hear Ulfast, one of Uldor’s brothers, finish speaking. She did not spare him a glance, nor anyone else in the hall. She immediately approached Uldor himself, who was not difficult to spot as he sat with the Elf.

Jord gave a very slight curtsy, hiding her amusement at the sort of heated conversation she was interrupting. “I am thankful for your invitation, Lord Uldor, and am glad to be accepting it, though I am afraid I received it too late to seem a truly grateful guest.” She then smiled not at the man, but at the Elven emissary beside him.

[Folwren]

Ulfast’s announcement came utterly by surprise to Uldor. He had great difficulty keeping the displeasure from his face. How is it that Ulfast came to know of the feast before he? Why had he not received the invitation? And what in the blazes possessed the fellow to neglect informing Uldor before telling the entirety of the gathered guests?

What irked him more was that Lachrandir made another jab at him, using Ulfast against him. ‘Is he then master of ceremonies instead of you?’ the elf had said. Ulfast was master of nothing! And certainly not instead of Uldor!

The annoyed heir bit his lower lip as his brother finished his speaking and sat down. He was prepared to make a reply to Lachrandir when he caught sight of Jord behind them. He turned abruptly in his chair in time to see her make a small curtsey.

“I am thankful for your invitation, Lord Uldor, and am glad to be accepting it, though I am afraid I received it too late to seem a truly grateful guest.”

Uldor stood up quickly, nearly bounding to his feet. “It was not your fault the invitation arrived to late, my lady. I will show you to your seat. Forgive me, Lord Lachrandir.” He forgot to make himself unpleasant while he excused himself swiftly. “This way.” He didn’t touch her, but the movement of his hand indicated that she should walk forward in the way that his other hand indicated. She did, with a graceful nod of her head to the elven emissary.

Uldor led her to her seat and saw her comfortably situated. Uldor had scarcely seen her seated when he caught sight of Ulfast, returning to his seat. He excused himself swiftly from Jord and made his way over to Ulfast.

“What was that all about?” he asked in a hissing whisper, catching Ulfast’s sleeve before his brother could quite make it to his seat. “Where is this invitation? And why haven’t I seen it?”