Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Dimturiel]

Bain had gone to the feast in high spirits. He had already persuaded himself that day was blessed and nothing could go wrong. He could hardly wait to tell Lord Balin he had finished his work. He wanted him to be the first to know. Well, Onli had been the first to know, but no one did beside him and no one should before lord Balin. That was what he was feeling before the message came, before the world seemed to turn upside down.

When he had first caught sight of Tror, Bain had assumed the latter had come to announce his lord’s arrival. He shifted in his chair, eyes glinting. So the moment had come, he thought.

But he had been wrong. The only thing that had come was a dreadful announcement, one he had never expected to hear, one he had never even imagined to be possible. Lord Balin was dead! He was dead and-how strange!-the world seemed unchanged, going on as if nothing had happened, as if such a death was not reason enough for all the lights to fade and darkness to fall over all. Bain barely understood the rest of Tror’s speech. It seemed to be coming from somewhere far away, a different world, perhaps.

Balin’s body was brought in and Bain entered the line of mourners so that he too could have one last look at his lord. He saw that many of those around them had tears in their eyes. Others were too stunned by disbelief to think of weeping. Bain felt the same way too. As he looked at his lord’s white face, Bain’s thoughts went suddenly to his forge and the now finished helmet that lay there. He shook his head, feeling tears in his eyes.

“He’ll never know now.” he mumbled. “And I thought he would be so pleased…”

[Himaran]

Ignoring his aching thumb, Dalin rushed to his quarters and changed into fresh linens. There was a celebration on hand at the Twenty First Hall, and he was missing it! The flustered dwarf only hoped that some of his favorite malt beer would be remaining upon his arrival. Essentially tripping over his own short legs, Dalin stumbled out of his room and hurried down rough hewn passage. As he neared the supposed festivities, however, a thought struck him. There was no shouting; in fact, he couldn't hear anything at all. Parties, and especially this feast, were generally boisterous, cacaphonous and the like. But on this occasion an eerie silence hung throughout the darkened corridors, as if all the mines had been hushed into quiet submission.

Dalin couldn't help but feel a little uneasy; it was becoming clear that something wasn't right. A creeping sensation tickled the hairs at the base of his neck, growing stronger by the second. Heart racing, he neared the large double doors with a mixture of blind dread and inquisitive curiousity. What could have happened? Had there been an attack? Were orcs invading the mines? Dalin paused as he reached for the handle; one way or another, he was going through that door. The dwarf took a heaving gasp of air, gathered his nerves, and pushed inward against the heavy stone frame. Responding to his reluctant touch, it creaked open, revealing the tragic scene beyond.

As he broke down in heavy sobs, Dalin couldn't help but fancy that he'd have given away both thumbs if only to avoid this horror.

[Arry]

Tív and Tíva shrank back from Trór, seeking the shelter of their mother’s skirt. A flimsy barrier at best against the piercing glance that had been aimed their way. Yet, they took comfort in the fragile protection it afforded them from his attention and his words.

'A generation that our leader gave his life to protect' they had heard Trór say '. . . a generation whose children will dwell in these halls after our bones have turned to dust . . .'

‘Why did he die for us? We did not want him to do that,’ they whispered into the soft dark folds of material. ‘It wasn’t our fault, was it Mami?’

Their Great Lord was dead. They understood that . . . impossible not to. There lay his body, still as stone, resting upon the shoulders of the bearers. His face seemed carved cold as it passed by; his sightless gaze cast up through the great mountains which arched up above it.

‘But it wasn’t our fault,’ Tív whimpered.

Vitr ushered his little family away from the procession. His own emotions were raw from this awful news of Balin’s death. Anger twined with deep grief at the manner and fact of his Lord’s death. He pushed these feelings aside for now, wanting to first deal with the more pressing need of his children for reassurance, for explanation.

He shepherded Lys and the twins to a quiet corner of the hall. The children huddled near their mother still, one hand each still grasping onto her skirt. Tív and Tíva’s eyes were wide as Vitr knelt down on one knee so that they were on a face to face level.

‘No need to be frightened,’ he told them softly, inviting each into the comforting embrace of his arms. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Not at all. It was one of our foe, a foul Orc and his fouler arrow which slew Lord Balin.’ The pinched, pale faces of the twins relaxed a little. Still their dark, deep-pooled eyes stayed fixed on their father’s face.

‘Orcs! Here?’ Tív asked, hastily wiping at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his tunic. ‘Will they get us, too, Papi?’ Tíva’s tear glistened eyes flashed fearfully as she waited for her father’s response.

‘Not in here, not in the halls,’ Vitr assured his son. He drew his daughter in, hugging her close against him. ‘There were only a few, or so I understood from what Trór said. Outside the mountain. And they were swiftly taken care of. They cannot harm us any longer.’ Vitr looked up at Lys, his eyes clouded with concern. Where there were one or a few Orcs, they both knew, there would surely be many more as yet unseen.

He stood up, taking one each of their little hands in his larger ones. ‘Come,’ he urged them. ‘Let’s go back to our home. I’ll see you to the hallway and you can walk with Mami then to there. I should go back to the hall . . . see if there is anything I’m needed to do.’

The children walked between their parents until they came to the hallway leading to their home. Vitr kissed them each on the cheek as he left them to their mother’s care. And kissed Lys, too; a quick brush against her cheek and a few words murmured in her ear.

‘You make sure Mami gets home safely,’ he charged the twins. ‘I’ll be back very soon . . . before you go to sleep. I just need to take a little time to pay my last respects to Lord Balin.’ Vitr ruffled their hair affectionately.

‘And remember . . . don’t you worry about anything.’ He smiled and nodded as he spoke. ‘Papi will take care of it . . .’

Vitr watched a little while as the trio walked away from him. With a heavy heart he turned away and made his own way toward the chamber where Lord Balin was now laid. Grief trumped the previous anger that had vied with it. Tears threatened at the corners of his sad, downcast eyes as he trudged along. And as he drew near the empty shell of his Lord, those tears escaped, sliding down his cheeks unbidden, wetting his beard.

‘What will we do now . . . without your direction and your steady hand?’ Vitr murmured as he gazed on Balin’s face. ‘How will we keep our homes and hall secure? And my family, my Lord . . . how will I keep them safe?’

He shook his head sadly, knowing there would be no words of reassurance to allay his own fears. Vitr reached out his right hand and touched the sleeve of his dead Lord’s tunic. ‘Always your man, my Lord . . .’ he whispered, and then passed on quietly as another stepped up to take his place.

[Kitanna]

"Our lord, and mighty ruler, Balin has fallen!"

Kéni was among those who issued forth a roar of disbelief and horror. Balin dead? It hardly seemed possibly. He had been strong and full of life, a just and mighty dwarf. Kéni wanted to call Trór a liar and a power hunger miscreant. But that wasn't true or fair. Trór would not do anything to harm the colony or Balin.

“Of my friend I can say only this: of all the kings I have served, of all the dwarves I have known, he was the most...worthy!”

Kéni felt Iari clutch his hand. She squeezed it as hard as she could. Kéni looked down and saw his sister staring ahead, fear reflecting in her eyes. Balin's body was being led in, Kéni was not sure this was something little Iari needed to see. "Iari, do you want to go home and wait for Grandpa?" Iari shook her head slowly and allowed Kéni to lead her into the line with the other mourners.

Dead. Iari remembered that word very clearly from her early years. That was what they had said her father was. Now Balin was dead too. If those as strong and brave as her father and Balin could die who was to say one so weak and young as herself could survive?

Kéni held her hand all through the line. Upon seeing Balin at the foot of his throne Iari started to cry. That was how death looked? Though Balin wasn't twisted in agony and his eyes were closed as though sleep had taken him, there was something terrifying in his cold look. Kéni stroked Iari's hair and gently led her away so other mourners could pay their respects and so the little girl would not have to be exposed any further to the dead body of their fallen lord.

Kéni knew it was time to seek out Kénan. He was dying to know what had happened and if their grandfather knew anything. He also wanted to Iari home and as far away from Balin as possible.

[Folwren]

Kénan hung back away from the body, although he could have been among the first to pass it, as he had been just beside it. As yet, he had not looked upon the face of the dead lord. Finally, he stepped forward by the marble upon which he lay. He paused briefly and looked upon him. A deep sense of doom settled finally upon his breast. It had been hovering there, barely touching, ever since he had first seen lord Balin.

What did it mean? What doom was there beyond the death of Balin? Something awful - something far worse. This was only a beginning. Whether it was some gift of foresight given just briefly to this dwarf, or perhaps it was just the mood into which he had been cast, or perhaps it was his aging years and he felt his own death he felt - whatever it was, he felt that it was certain and more deaths than this one would be taken in the time to follow.

He bowed his head and stepped away from the stone.

He nearly ran into Vitr, a dwarf he knew very little. “Excuse me,” he said, and just about stepped past him. But something caused him to turn. “You have two little ones, have you not? Perhaps you’ve seen my two grandchildren - my granddaughter may have played with your little girl tonight, and I have not seen either of them.”

[Arry]

Vitr was lost in thought, his gaze cast down at the smooth stones set in the chamber’s floor. His accustomed calm and thoughtful nature had taken the upper hand now, pushing away for the while the initial shock of Lord Balin’s death.

He thought now of his duty . . . his duties, rather. First to his family, both the responsibility for the welfare of his wife and children and for his father and his father’s father’s family extending back through their strand of the Longbeard clan. The clan itself – that it should remain viable and strong. And finally this small community which had given him and his family a place to grow and prosper. He wondered who would step up now to be their leader, an unenviable role to fill he felt.

Mahal grant him the strength and wisdom to see us through he murmured And us the same to follow where he leads.

‘Excuse me . . .’ The voice of one of the elder men pulled Vitr from his ruminations. ‘You have two little ones, have you not?’ Kénan asked. ‘Perhaps you’ve seen my two grandchildren - my granddaughter may have played with your little girl tonight, and I have not seen either of them.’

‘Master Kénan!’ Vitr reached out to clasp the man’s arm. He was glad to make contact with something more substantial than his own thoughts.

‘We came late to the celebration. It was my son and daughter’s birthday and we had a little party of our own at home. Sorry to tell you, but I don’t think Tíva saw your granddaughter - Iari, yes? - this evening. We had not been here all that long before . . .’ He glanced toward the throne, at the marble stone at its foot which served as Lord Balin’s bier. ‘. . . before the awful news was brought to us and Lord Balin borne in.’

Vitr fell silent for a moment.

'And sorry, too - that Tív and Tíva are not here for you to ask. I sent them home with their mother.' He gestured about the chamber. 'This was too much for them. They're too young to take this in all at once, and they were frightened.'

[Durelin]

Silence fell over the hall in waves as Trór and some others who had accompanied Lord Balin entered the hall. Their lord was not with them...there were so few of them, and their faces were so grim. Kórin swallowed Lys’ ale, and did not remember how it tasted. Kór’s harp was one of the last sounds to die in the Twenty-first Hall. He stood up from the stool he had been seated on, and gazed around.

Before he saw anything that could cause an entire celebration to cease, Kór heard those terrible words: “Balin has fallen.” The painful silence dragged on for several more moments, as everyone stood stunned and silently mourning, still determining how they should react, how they should vocalize their sadness, or what should be done. As sound slowly started to return to the hall, as weeping and angry questioning and words of despair filled the hall, Kór hurried to find his sister.

He found Kórin in a rather sorry state. She had returned to filling mugs, but now they were mostly for herself. She had started tipping back mug after mug at a startling rate almost immediately after the news arrived. Kór could only thank Mahal that his sister held her ale much better than he did…and that Kórin actually started to grow quieter beyond a certain limit.

She glanced at her brother, but did not acknowledge him as he approached.

“This isn’t going to make you feel any better Kórin,” Kór said sadly, then added in more of a murmur, “It’s not going to make anyone feel better.”

“Oh shutup and have a drink,” Kórin muttered. “Maybe it will make you less of a prude.”

Cradling his harp in his arms, Kór plopped down on the bench next to his sister. The body of their lord was carried through the hall, and nearly every dwarf in Khazad-dûm at that time crowded around and formed a great procession. The siblings sat quietly, watching.

“Balin dead, just like that, eh?” Kórin suddenly broke the silence between them. “I bet the orcs have finally come back for us,” she added surprisingly lucidly. Kór could not think of a way to reply. He leaned forward and grabbed a mug.

[Groin Redbeard]

Trór had left in search of Frar while Nali stayed to meet Loni when he exited the chamber. There was not long to wait however, Loni's face showed evidence of crying but his face was as calm as ever when Nali approached him and quickly relayed to him the words of Grór.

“Do you believe this,” Loni asked him in disbelief.

“I do, brother. I look forward to the chance to avenge our king, but, nevertheless, I am greatly disheartened that a battle should happen soon after Balin’s death. We will need all the help that can be mustered.” Loni gave him a questionable look when he saw that spark in Nali’s eye that so often appeared when he had an idea.

“What do you mean?”

“The wailing and grieving of the women will greatly dishearten the men before the battle. Wouldn’t it be best if we have someone of prominence, someone who they respect, speak to them to stall their laments for the present?”

“Shouldn't Trór’s words will be enough to quail them down?"

“Yes, but it would be more affective if perhaps a women could break the news to them. She should then come with us to the council.” Nali furrowed his brow and bit his lower lip in thought.

“Aye, this idea is not half bad. Go then and summon who thy think is best.” Loni responded.

“Kórin, she is stout and will be able to bear this news best. You go to the gate brother, I'll fetch Kenan and the Korin” And with that Loni and Nali separated.

The next person for Nail to find is Kenan. The old dwarf may not have been a true warrior or noble like the rest of them, but he was rich and did hold a large part of Trór’s respect. Therefore, Nali searched for him until he found the aged dwarf talking to Vitr. He waited until there was a pause in the conversation and then intervened by placing his hand on Kenan’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Excuse me, but Trór requests your presence in council.”

[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?”

[Groin Redbeard]

Nali began to question his own judgement of this women. Perhaps it would be better to just have Tror give the news, but something in his gut told him to keep with his original idea. Korin might be rough around the edges, but that is caliber of dwarves that they needed that moment more than ever: tough.

“Well, for one thing, they didn’t ask me.” Nali hear Kor respond to his sister’s question.

“Well they should have.”

“But we have not,” Nali stated as a matter of fact. “We need thee my lady Korin, not your brother, we will have need of him before the sun sets. Indeed, our lord will have need of everyone before too long.

“Now, will thou come with me my lady, or shall I inform the council that thy have need of an ale mug for comfort? I beg pardon for my frankness, but the truth is the matter is very urgent.” Nali stood sideways from the two siblings, ready to move in an instant with Korin or without her.

She hesitated for a moment. Nali offered a genuine smile, stiffened his back and offered his hand to help her up from her stool.

[Groin Redbeard]

As Tror turned his gaze from the two Nali breathed a sigh of relief. He had stiffened at Tror's glare, fearing an outburst either from Tror or Korin. Slowly, Nali began to relax and let out a sigh of relief, it was the hardest thing to try and keep peace when the threat of war loomed around them in the uncertain darkness. May the great god keep them united in thier hour of need!

Tror began speaking to Ori, who surprisingly had stayed behind at the gate. Nali cast a worried look sidelong at Korin, her eyes were fixed on Tror and they appeared to match even the venerable warrior's vicious glare. Slowly and cautiously Nali touched Korin's shoulder, her head snapped in his direction.

"Remember thy place here," Nal said cautiously but not in a threatening tone. "Thou art but a guest here, and I beseech you not to speak too hastily." It did not look like his words had much effect, but Nali hoped that she would heed them until at least the council was in session.

Poor thing, can you really blame her for being upset? Not only was Korin completely ignorant of the dire predicament that their colony was in, but her help was also so rudely sought for in an hour of great tragedy. He hoped that this misunderstanding would soon pass when the all was made clear. Loni was as his usual: cool headed and silent; Nali envied him at the moment, already the council was on the verge of feuding, as so many great leaders succumbed to when they were suddenly deprived of a great leader. Where was Kenan? If that dwarf would not arrive soon there would be the devil to pay for the both of them!

However, Nali did not have to wait long, and the familiar footfalls of Kenan were heard in the passage. The gruff old dwarf came in as if they were all a group of buddies gathered in the midst of merriment around a ale cask. He spoke very bluntly about ending the matter quickly, not even a word of greetings. Tror spun round when he heard Kenan's voice and grimly shook his head in agreement, though it looked like he intended to say something else, before he turned back to hear Ori's response.