Red Flows the Sirannon RPG

[piosenniel]

‘Mami! Mami!’ came the high piping voice as he spied the smiling face of his father peer round one of the entryway’s stone uprights that led into the Stonecuts’ kitchen area. Leifr ran fast as his little legs would carry him, his feet slap-slapping over the smooth, polished floor.

‘There’s my boy!’ cried Riv, crouching down, arms outstretched. He gave the boy a gentle bearish hug; then holding him at arms’ length he kissed him on the brow as his fingers went up to brush back several errant curls. Leifr clung to his leg, giggling, as Riv rose up, taking a ride along one his father’s great thick leg as he made his way with one stiff leg across the kitchen to his wife.

Unna was watching from her place by the granite sink. She had turned at Leifr’s cry, her eyes kindling with relief and laughter. Leaning her back against the lip of the sink, she dried her hands on her apron, watching with delight the approach of her husband.

‘What?!’ said Riv in a deep voice, his brow raised as he stopped and looked toward her. ‘Where’s my girl? The one who used to come running when her handsome hero returned from dangerous missions?’ He motioned for her to come over to him. ‘I’ve one leg left, my dear. Wouldn’t you like a little ride about the kitchen with the little lizard on my other leg?’

A bright ripple of laughter escaped, filling the space between husband and wife. ‘Oof!’ returned Unna, her laugh now quieted into a smile. ‘I’m sure I would crush your hero’s feet, boots or no, if I were to take up your offer.’ Her hand strayed down to rest on her great belly. ‘I’m afraid while you were gone my weight’s gone up a stone and a half at least!’ She drew near him and placed his hand on her rippling belly. ‘The baby’s dropped. And I’m eating constantly . . . seems he . . . or she,’ Unna said, looking up into Riv’s face, ‘needs food, food, and more food for this last spurt of growing.’

‘Grandma says she’s like a starved dragon, Papi,’ Leifr put in. ‘Eat anything not hidden under a rock.’ Both his parents burst out in laughter at this passed on comment.

‘Come, sit down,’ said Unna motioning to Riv’s chair at the table’s head. ‘I’m not that ravenous. There’s a bit of ham left and a loaf of bread from today with sweet butter. And you’re in luck, I just finished tomorrow’s soup and left it near the fire to gently cook.’ She soon had a hearty meal set before him, and a cup of ale. For Leifr she poured a small cup of cider and gave him a sugared cookie, studded with nuts. Seating herself to Riv’s right, she picked at pieces of his buttered bread, watching him fondly as he ate. ‘Is this the last of the Elves coming through,’ she asked as he chewed on a bit of ham and bread. Will you be close about now . . . at your own forge?’

He smiled, knowing the answer she desired . . .

[Arry]

The months since the trip to the Elven city with those from Lorien had been quiet ones. Stay at home ones. Safe ones, for the most part, save for the reports that came in with increasing frequency telling of more Orcs and other foul beasts that crept like a dark blight west from Mirkwood and Sauron’s black lands, and south from the old tunnels in the northern Misty Mountains . . . all heading toward Eriador. The Dwarves had gathered themselves safe inside their halls. Venturing out only if great need called them. There was plenty for them to do at their own forges . . . and truth be told, they liked their own company best of all . . .

His niece was born a month after their return from Ost-in-edhil. It was a joyous event, the birth of a fine, healthy baby . . . and doubly blessed in that it was a little girl. Ginna, she had been named, her father holding her high above his head in the great hall that all might see her and give welcome. Her dark brown curls had glints of red that lay deep within them; her big, dark eyes glittered like faceted obsidian beneath the bright lights of the glassy lamps set round to light the room. She was a welcome gift and for a long space of time the joy of her coming pushed back the shadow that niggled in the background thoughts of Stonecut family.

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‘Ach! You’ll pull out my beard little nieceling!’ Skald sat in the oaken rocker by the fire, his feet propped on the raised hearth. The baby, now four months old, lay on a little quilt spread out along his leather clad thighs, her dark eyes catching the light from the crystal lamp above. Little stars glinted in the inky darkness of her pupils, as she watched with rapt attention the movement of her uncle’s face above her own. Skald’s beard had come near enough her fat little fists for her to entwine her fingers in it. And she wriggled and cooed as she yanked on the hairy toy.

‘You know,’ he said softly to her as he gently disentangled his beard from her hands. ‘You know you were almost called Dagny, don’t you? Your mami wanted to name you after one of the long gone aunts of hers, her favorite. But your papi, Riv, he’s my big brother, you know, he took one look at you and said your name was Ginna. “Enchantress.” ’ The baby’s eyes followed the nodding and shaking of Skald’s head and the smiles that creased his face as if she understood his every word. ‘It’s a good name, that one,’ he went on, letting her wrap her sturdy fingers about the thick little finger of each of his hands. ‘You’ve certainly enchanted your old uncle, here.’

He raised a brow and putting on a serious face, snorted at a sudden thought just come to him. ‘And don’t think when you get a little older you need to be trying your magics on any of the young bucks that come hanging round, hats in hand. No dimpled smiles or peeking looks from beneath those long lashes of yours.’ Skald hmmmph’d and nodded at her. ‘They’ll be having to pass my inspection before they get in arm’s length of you, little Gem!’

As if in protest at the unfair boundary he’d declared, Ginna puckered up her little face and began to fuss. Her legs and arms stiffened out and she let out a wail of complaint. Unna, hearing her daughter’s howl, scooped her up from Skald’s lap. She cuddled the little one against her shoulder, rocking her gently until the protests subsided. ‘Never tell a woman what she can and cannot do, brother-mine,’ she said, her mouth curved up in a smile at him. ‘We don’t tend to take that sort of thing well, at any age.’

‘Well, then, I’ll try to remember that, m’lady ,’ Skald answered, an abashed grin bowing his lips at the corners. ‘Nonetheless, the young scamps will have to get by Riv and Bror and me before they go bothering her with their calf eyes and such!’ Unna laughed quietly and shook her head at him.

Skald rose from his chair and fetched a cup for Bror and himself. Taking the ladle from the hook hanging near the hob, he dipped into the small kettle of mulled wine and poured them each a generous portion. His younger brother had sat near him and the baby, playing some soft melodies on his harp. Between the two of them, they had learned a number of lullabies and little songs that Ginna seemed to like. Bror’s head was bent over as he listened closely to the quiet notes his fingers plucked. Skald’s back was to the inattentive musician as he fixed the potation and stirred the steaming cups with a small wooden spoon.

‘Put your harp away and have a drink with me while Unna puts the baby to sleep,’ Skald said, placing a cup in front of his brother. ‘Riv should be done soon. He’s finishing up some helmets for the Hardhammers; setting them with those blood red beryls he and his crew got from one of the lower mines. He’ll join us, I’m sure, when he comes up.’ Skald set an empty cup on the hearth near a chair he’d drawn up for his older brother. His own cup he picked up, and raising it to Bror, winked, saying, ‘To your good health little brother!’ He took a large swig and swallowed it, his glittering eyes on Bror.

His guard down, the youngest Stonecut brother, set his harp carefully on the floor beside him and picked up his mug. He joined Skald in a big drink. No sooner had the warm liquid hit his tongue than he spluttered, turning red in the face at the vinegary taste, and spit it back into his cup.

‘Gotcha!’ Skald laughed aloud, and was as quickly shushed by Unna from the corner where the cradle stood. ‘Oh, here!’ he said, clapping Bror on the back as he continued to sputter. Skald dumped the contents of the sour drink down the sink, and in full view of Bror, ladled him out another. He handed it to him with a wink and sat down in his chair, rocking back as he thrust his feet toward the coals. Bror glared at him as he sipped the undoctored drink, trying to drive the sour taste from his mouth. Skald laughed again, this time quietly and shook his shoulders.

‘Oh well,’ he sighed, grinning a little at his brother’s discomfort. ‘I suppose I shall have to be on the look out now, won’t I . . . for some payback trick of yours . . .’

[piosenniel]

Folwren's post



‘Oh well,’ Skald sighed, still having the impudence to smile at him. ‘I suppose I shall have to be on the look out now, won’t I...for some payback trick of yours.’

Bror’s look was almost black as he sized his older brother up. The taste clung to his mouth and it seemed nothing he did would cure it. ‘That’s low, Skald,’ Bror finally said, scowling. ‘It’s a dirty trick.’

‘Most of the things you do to me are considered dirty tricks, too.’

‘Yes, but I haven’t done one for months.’ One corner of his mouth pulled back in consideration and he stared at the dark wine in his mug before taking another drink (not that it helped much). ‘Well, it’s not been for a long time, anyhow. And, yes, to reply to your question, you will have to be on the look out. But I’ll tell you now, your eyes won’t be sharp enough, nor your ears keen enough, to avoid the trap I’ll lay. You’ll only know what hit you afterwards.’ Skald only laughed at him, and Bror, already having something forming in his head, smiled back. To his surprise, Skald threw his head back and laughed again, even louder.

‘Skald Stonecut,’ Unna said with some sharpness on the edge of her voice, ‘either halt that din of yours, or leave at once. Ginna will never get to sleep if you keep on so.’

Skald looked somewhat abashed and Bror’s smile turned into something rather impish before he had the wits to hide it behind the mug. Neither of them had the chance to say anything more before Riv walked in. He looked tired, and whatever Bror’s merriment was left instantly dried up. Skald and he glanced at each other.

‘Hello, Skald and Bror,’ Riv said as he passed them. Bror and Skald watched as Unna greeted her husband and they went to the cradle and talked in low voices as Riv watched his daughter sleep.

‘I wonder what’s gotten into him,’ Bror said. Skald just shook his head.

‘Nothing but a hard long day’s work,’ he answered.

‘He is kind of late, isn’t he?’ Bror commented, looking away from Riv. ‘What did you do all day?’ And so a conversation got started. Riv joined them with his mug after a few minutes. They talked of small matters. Nothing was said of the growing whispers of war. The shadow had not touched Bror, and as yet, he wasn’t aware of it affecting either of his brothers, though Riv may have thought some on it.

After a while, Bror finished his second mug of ale and pushed back his chair. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you fellows,’ he said. ‘Old Jollin wants me at the forge early tomorrow. Goodnight.’

His brothers bid him goodnight as he picked up his harp and went out. He sang quietly to himself as he followed the dim corridors to his room. Before going to bed, he sat for some time in deep thought and consideration. The taste of vinegar - or whatever it had been that Skald had so backhandedly put into his drink - had finally left his mouth, but the thought of it remained. He couldn’t leave him unpaid, and he didn’t intend to. Besides, it was far better to do something against Skald when he had some sort of reason to. Then he might at least have some sort of chance to escape payment.

‘Not very likely, though,’ he muttered finally, pulling off his boots. ‘If you end up successfully pulling this off, Skald won’t be accepting it as revenge for that tiny prank that you got tonight. There will be some serious reckoning to do...’

But Bror wasn’t one to decide against something that could afford such fun because it might get him into a little bit of trouble with his older brother. So, satisfied that he had a workable plan, he laid down, pulled the covers up over his head, and instantly fell asleep.

---------------

During the next few days, Bror did nothing out in the open in preparation for what he intended to do for Skald. While in his room, he worked with ropes and knots, pulleys, and other things that he thought may help him in his plan. Finally he was satisfied with the trap itself. The only thing he missed was bait. At first he thought it would be simple enough to rig the thing right in front of Skald’s door, but studying the situation, he found that there was no place to hang the ropes, and besides that, it was too visible.

A chance soon offered itself when Skald one evening told his brothers of a commission he had been hired for. He would be leaving early the next morning to take some of his workings across the mines to an old dwarf.

‘You’re leaving early?’ Bror asked, studying Skald carefully. The older brother only nodded. ‘Really early? Before any one else is up?’ Skald nodded again, raising an eyebrow expectantly. ‘Oh, I was only wondering. You’ll still be eating here, I guess. Well, good,’ he said, after Skald had given him yet another affirmative answer. ‘I’m happy for you. I hope it all goes well. Good luck.’ He got up and excused himself and hurried to his room.

He took out his stores of ropes and then settled down to wait. Before long, everything was quiet in the halls and corridors. He cautiously set out from his room and retraced his steps to the kitchen. No one was there and everything was dark. He stepped back out to the hall and fetched one of the night lamps and then bore everything with him to the pantry at the back of the room. Skald usually came here in the mornings before work and since he would be leaving early, there would be little or no chance that Unna or Riv would come there before Skald.

He worked silently setting the ropes. The hooks in the ceiling used for hanging pots and pans and sometimes meats served to hold the cords. His hands moved quickly, tying knots here and twisting them there, some to move, and some to remain fast. Finally, he was finished. He studied his handiwork and then bound the end of the rope to another hook in the wall before taking the night lamp back out and leaving the pantry and kitchen as silent and dark as it had been when he had come.

A long string he rigged from there to his room. On the end he attached a small bell. It would wake him as soon as his victim was caught and he would go untangle him. As soon as that was finished, he cast himself on his bed and slept.

The violent ringing of his bell alarm woke him. He started up out of bed, feeling as though he had only slept a moment, and went running out towards the kitchen. He arrived there in less than a minute. A lamp sat on the table, turned low and a cap belonging to Skald was on a chair. A large smile broke out on his face but the next instant it was wiped off as he realized that two voices came from the pantry, belonging to both of his brothers. Riv must have gotten up early as well, to see Skald off, Bror figured.

The light from the lamp did not reach back there, so he picked it up and took it with him. He stopped at the door. One of the two brothers hung by his foot upside down, with his head a few feet from the stone floor. The other stood on the ground, searching with his hands some rope to cut to try to get him down. Bror stood for a minute in the doorway with the lamp upraised. The brother on the ground turned to look at him. His eyes glittered in the light and Bror’s mouth dropped.

It was Skald looking at him. He had caught the wrong dwarf.