The King's Players RPG

[Dimturiel]

Harrenon had retired for a while, having left Brinn the notes Coldan had made of Bergil’s account and telling her that he would probably be in his cart, if he was needed for anything. He doubted he would be soon. There would have to be decisions taken soon concerning the changes that had to be made in the play and Harrenon was by now familiar with the style of his fellow Players. First they were going to argue for what would seem like hours on end at which point they would finally grow tired of sniping at each other and start trying to find a solution. Harrenon was not one to snipe much, so he thought that he might as well skip that part.

He stood for some time trying to relax, enjoying the time spent alone. It was not that he did not like the company of the other Players. Yet sometimes being constantly on the road at close quarters with a small group of people could be very trying. There was little time to oneself and no chance of much proper rest.

In the end, however, Harrenon grew restless. He was curious to see how the other Players were dealing with all that had happened. Perhaps he judged them wrongly and they were actually not going to have a long and wearisome argument after all this time. He thought that there would be no harm in going to the inn’s common room, at least to have a look at how things were proceeding. If he stumbled over something he did not like, he could always go back to the wagons.

As he was about to enter the common room, he spotted Brannor getting out and by the look on the other’s face, Harrenon judged that something was not exactly quite right. Harrenon sighed. So much for no arguments.

Harrenon walked in and saw that Aldarion and Coldan were staring daggers at each other. The man Cirdacil had saddled them with – Sador, his name was, if Harrenon remembered correctly – was looking quite uncomfortable. So there had been sniping then, and by the looks of it, it had been quite serious.

Not wanting to interfere– what would have been the point anyway, since he had no idea what had actually transpired there? – Harrenon found a table at a safe distance and sat down. He told himself to steer clear of whatever trouble was brewing. Unless, of course, Coldan and Aldarion did not decide to try and kill each other, that was.

Looking around Harrenon spotted the young inkeeper’s niece – Thiliel, that was her name, and turned to her:

“I say,” he asked, “Do you have any idea what went on here? These two look like they're about to jump at each other’s throats.”

[the phantom]

"So you zink I'm too zick to see zrough vat you've been up to viz zat Mary role?" questioned Coldan. "Maybe you should explain zen. But keep it simple, so I understand."

Aldarion glared at Coldan. Of course Coldan had brought up Mary the Elf- Asta. It had always been a bit too obvious that Coldan had some sort of crush on her, and so naturally he would dislike Aldarion's scenes with her (which were admittedly quite enjoyable), but that ought not to have any bearing on the issue at hand- Coldan blaming Aldarion for all of the inaccuracies in the play.

But just as he was about to reply, Branor stepped in to play peacemaker. Though Aldarion was no less frustrated and angry after the speech, it did at the least keep him from shouting when he turned to address Coldan, and the idea of punching the Easterling also subsided into a colder sort of fury.

"Asta has nothing to do with my complaint, Coldan," began Aldarion. Coldan showed every sign of interrupting, but Aldarion held up a hand and continued. "I was informed that you essentially placed the blame for the script and story problems at my feet while I was away, and I will not stand for that. I did not invent these roles, nor did I invent the overall plot, and if you'll recall I am the one that suggested we do an entirely different drama before it was evident that we were stuck."

"I was a great actor once, working with the greatest company in the history of Gondor!" exclaimed Aldarion, suddenly becoming more passionate. "I had it all, and by the Valar I will rise again! But how can I impress the nobles and royals of Minas Tirith if our production is laughable?! No, Coldan, no! If it is this play that we must perform, I want it fixed- more badly than anyone! And I'll not let you lumber about behind my back saying that I am the cause of its flaws!"

[Galadriel55]

Thiliel nodded to Mistress Celebrindal, and with a quick "Right away" she sprinted back to the inn. She came in to see that a fourth man was trying to quiet down the fight that sprang up between the other three. However, it looked like his arguents were not heeded. This time, Thiliel clearly recognized one of the men as an actor that she has seen earlier this day. She didn't recall him there when the fight started.

“I say,” said a man's voice, “Do you have any idea what went on here? These two look like they're about to jump at each other’s throats.”

Thiliel turned around. It was another actor. "I don't know for sure, sir. The man who is shouting right now suddenly yelled something about theatre, history, and witnesses, and I think the other ones yelled back. I'm not certain. You see, I had to deliver supper to Mistress Celebrindal." Thiliel was confident that the actor would understand, because he was around when she met Celebrindal. "She said that I should tell the men to go to her cart one at a time. What do you think this means? Will they be fired?"

But this couldn't be. The actors had to stay together. Otherwise, how will they manage to do the play? Thiliel's expression reflected some of her concern.

[Pitchwife]

Fighting Aldarion is not going to make Asta fancy you, Branor had said. Coldan wasn't too drunk nor too enraged not to recognize truth when it bit him, even when it hurt as much as this. He even recognized Aldarion's right to complain about being slandered in his absence, and his zeal to correct the errors in the play. But that was beside the point; the play was the last thing on Coldan's mind now.

"I don't give an Orc's fart for your ambitions", he replied. "You didn't invent Mary, I'll give you zat; but it vouldn't be half as difficult to get rid of her now if you hadn't blown up her part so much at Éowyn's expense, only to include a love story between her and your own character. All for purely dramatic reasons, I suppose." He snorted contemptuously. "Tell zat to your granny. And yes, you suggested ve perform Children of Húrin instead of ze Var of ze Ring. Guess who as Nienor and Túrin. Do you really zink I am too daft to see vat's going on here?" The last sentence had come out as a yell, but the wrath in his voice died down again as quickly as it had flared up. "Not zat it matters anymore. If she really wants you, let her have you. But tell me one zing, Aldarion!" He leaned forward to place one hand on the back of Aldarion's chair, the other on the table, and brought his face close to the playwright's, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. "Do you at least love her truly, or are you just toying viz her as if she vere some strumpet from ze city? Answer me, Aldarion, or ze play can go to ze fires of Mount Doom for all I care."

[Dimturiel]

"She said that I should tell the men to go to her cart one at a time. What do you think this means? Will they be fired?"

So Brinn was thinking of taking drastic measures if she wanted to do that, Harrenon thought. He had to admit that he could not help but admire the way Brinn dealt with the troupe. That took a lot of patience since they were all difficult enough, Harrenon included.

“Oh, I’m sure she won’t fire anyone,” Harrenon told Thiliel reassuringly. “She wouldn’t do this to any of us, no matter how much we misbehaved. And at any rate, she can’t fire any of us now, with the play so close. I’m sure she just wants to teach some sense into them and ask them to put aside whatever differences they might have until the play is over, that’s all.”

Yet observing from afar Coldan and Aldarion’s current interactions, Harrenon could not help wondering uneasily what it would take for those two to agree to put aside whatever differences they might have. However Brinn intended to deal with the problem, Harrenon wished her luck.

[Nerwen]

Asta had, in fact, taken refuge in the wagon. She kept Smaug and her other mechanical charges in good order, but there were always last minute repairs and adjustments to be made. Besides, it was calming to lose herself in the painstaking work of her hands. Just the company of her beloved puppets was calming, too. Demanding they might be in their own way, but she understood their needs, their innermost workings.

"What's wrong with people, Smaug?" she asked the dragon-puppet aloud, as she polished the great fangs that fringed his gaping mouth. One of Smaug's huge rolling crimson eyes had slipped a little in its socket. It gave him an unfocussed look that seemed oddly gentle. Asta rather liked that, but she knew her duty, and had the errant orb back in place with a few deft twists of one of her special tools, a long blade-like implement with a hooked end.

It was at that moment that she heard Rollan's knock. She did not feel ready to talk to anyone yet, and had to resist a childish impulse to keep silent and hope he would go away.

She opened the door. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to see how you were getting on, Asta... thought you'd still be rehearsing. With Coldan."

"Oh no," Asta said quickly. "We're– we're finished."

Rollan was looking at her in such a curious way that Asta wondered if he could tell she had been crying. Her complexion always did tend to stay blotchy after tears.

"Asta, has something–" he broke off, startled as she was by the roar of anger that had erupted from the direction of the Common Room.

Asta clambered out of the cart as fast as she could and dashed inside, not waiting to see what Rollan would do. That had been Aldarion's voice; then Coldan's had followed it, equally enraged. They were murdering each other! Or, at least, her sense of realism corrected her, Aldarion was murdering Coldan, anyway.

The noise had partly subsided by the time she reached the hall, where she almost ran into Branor. The actor was a trifle unsteady on his feet and showed other signs of having partaken a little too well of Ingold's hospitality.

"Not to worry your pretty little head about it," he told her in his most lordly fashion. "Coldan and Aldarion had words– over you, and who can blame 'em," he winked roguishly, "who can blame 'em, indeed? But not to worry, I took care of it. Not a peep out of 'em now."

His words might have been more convincing if Coldan's voice had not at that moment shouted,
"Do you really zink I am too daft to see vat's going on here?"

Asta paused on the Common Room threshold. Coldan, she saw, was now bent over Aldarion's chair, in a way that, to her raging imagination, looked positively sinister, as did the expression on the playwrights upturned face.

She darted into the room, weaving between tables until she reached them, "Stop it," she cried. "Stop it now, you fools! What do you think you're doing?" They both jumped and stared at her. It was only then that she realised she had brought the hooked blade with her and was now holding it before her like a weapon.

[the phantom]

Aldarion resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Coldan gave his answer. Coldan was not even remotely addressing the issue at hand, or at least from Aldarion's perspective, but instead ranted entirely about Asta. "How is it any of his business what Asta does on stage anyway?" thought Aldarion. "How would she feel if I gave into Coldan's whims and took her out of any romantic lead part to suit his jealousy? I doubt she'd be pleased."

Then Coldan surprised him, leaning in close, and demanding that Aldarion choose between "I love Asta" and "she's a strumpet I'm toying with". Aldarion was outraged. "What a thing to ask someone!" he thought, as Coldan's gaze continued unbroken, awaiting an answer. "I mean really, relationships between people are changeable things, with room for growth. I ought to ask him the same question of Brinn and Sereth just to make my point!"

But before Aldarion could speak- "Stop it! Stop it now, you fools! What do you think you're doing?" The loud interruption caused Aldarion to rise partway out of his chair. It was Asta, and what was more she was brandishing a weapon.

Instinctively Aldarion darted clear from his seat and his hand flew to his hilt, but barely he restrained himself from actually drawing the blade. His eyes flickered back and forth between Coldan and Asta. Perhaps more had happened in his absence than he knew? The naked steel in Asta's hands certainly suggested it.