Tears of Mirrormere RPG

[Groin Redbeard]

“Perhaps you might allow me to accompany you, as well, Master Nali, simply as…ah…support?”

Nali was annoyed with the question, especially since he just got Korin to put down her mug and accept his invitation although not without sloshing her ale all over his boots, which he believed was deliberate. The old dwarf, however annoyed he was, looked at the orange haired "youngster" with interest, he would not be much good at the council but perhaps he would be of some use for calming the mood of the dwarves. The mood of the people was Nali's main concern and after all the reason he summoned Korin.

"Nay, young Korin, but you still may be of some use to us yet. Pluck your harp and sing if you have the spirits to brighten the mood of our people, however fruitless it may seem at the moment. All this dampened merriment will bode ill for us before the night falls if something is not done of it."

Nali found that Kor was looking at him confused, as was Korin. It was a slip of the tongue, old fool, you are going to cause everyone to panic before there is need to!

"Bah!" he exclaimed, "I am growing senile in my old age! Do not fear young Kor, everything will be relayed to thee soon. Now, come Korin, with haste! Both of us have lingered too long, the council must be already in session."

The women quickly obeyed his command and they bounded off together in the direction of the east gate.

[Lilly]

‘Shhh!’ Lys opened the door gently, avoiding, she hoped, the rusty squeak mid-arc. ‘I’m glad you came back so soon,’ she whispered, drawing Vitr in with a hand on his arm. ‘You can help me carry them in to bed.’ She nodded over her shoulder toward the little couch where Tív and Tíva lay sleeping soundly, their slight frames curled comfortably about the cushions and pillows.

‘Chamomile, well laced with milk and honey,’ she offered in explanation, as he followed her across the room. She bent to clear the mugs away from the table in front of the couch. ‘Always helps them settle down.’ She grinned up at Vitr. ‘That and the retelling one of my mother’s very long and winding stories.... about one of her crazy uncles....’ She stifled a laugh. ‘No, not an uncle.... this time it was the one about her impish brother, Bósi. You know, the one with the gimpy leg and the pet hen with only one wing.’

Lys reached down to scoop Tíva up into her arms. ‘Oofta! Too many cookies!’ She cradled her rag-doll daughter securely against her and headed toward the sleeping area. ‘No, not in their beds,’ she said, nudging Vitr away from the twins’ room. ‘Let’s let them sleep in with us. It will be easier than having to get up and see to their bad dreams that are sure to come tonight.’

Once the children were made snug in their parents’ bed, quilts pulled up about their shoulders, hair brushed back from their foreheads, Lys led Vitr to the kitchen. She busied herself making some tea for the both of them as he sat down in his chair.

‘So, what’s going on in the hall?’ she asked, taking the chair to his right. Her question fell into the silence as he considered what to say. The rhythmic sound of spoon against mug as she stirred honey into her tea played a soft counterpoint to the quiet. ‘Is there to be a hunting party to go after the orcs?’

She reached out her hand, resting it on Vitr’s forearm. ‘Will you be among them?’ Lys searched his face for a hint of what he might answer.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After Náli left to search for Kénan and Kórin, Lóni wandered around the halls aimlessly. He intended to head towards the gate, but his thoughts wandered far and to different times, in history and in his memories and in tales and legends he remembered. He did not even think inentionally about Balin, the thoughts were just swirling through his head. He recalled the moments he and his brother and Trór fought in the Battle of the Five Armies, and Balin emerged among the rest with Thorin Oakenshield out of the gate of Erebor. He recognized him rightaway, he looked exactly the same as in the day Lóni first saw him fighting in Azanulbizar. And here it was again, in Azanulbizar, that he had found his doom...

Suddenly, Lóni stumbled and fell to the ground with clunging of iron. Only now he realised that he is alone in a completely dark corridor. Just where was he? The place did not seem familiar, but it was just a corridor, one of the many in Moria, even now he still could not find a way to identify them all. Something furry and wet touched his knee. Lóni jumped up. Two gleaming eyes blinked at him from close distance and then they disappeared with a sound of soft running pads. Lóni shook his head. Blind in the darkness, he bent forwards and by touch found his mace lying on the ground; he felt he had lost it when he fell. When putting it back, Lóni realised it must be still stained from the skirmish by the Mirrormere. Once again he sighed, knowing that in the darkness he cannot evaluate the condition of his weapons and armor. He was certain they would be in the need of polishing. But duty calls, who knows where he had strayed and the others may be already waiting for him. First the council, then other things.

He turned around and strode back from whence he came.

[Arry]

Only the light from the small fire still burning in the kitchen grate pushed back the shadows gathered in the room. It lit her face, leaving only the deeps of her eyes clouded as she looked at him, and then away. Sparks of it glinted in her hair and for a moment he wished only to entangle his fingers in that familiar mass of coppery curls. And on some other night, some other safe, familiar night he would have done so.

But now foul murder had undone his sense of safety, and what was once familiar, so accustomed, so solid and so ordinary had now slipped sideways. It was not just the body of his slain Lord which had been borne in upon the shoulders of his men, but the possibility, the grim reality, of death for those Vitr held dear.

And so, instead, he clasped her hand between his own and spoke softly with more reassurance than he felt. ‘You know, dear heart, I will be among them.’ He reached a hand toward her, touching her cheek gently for a moment. ‘Duty deems it so; there can be no other way for me. It will be the last call to duty from my Lord Balin and the first for the new Lord who will now lead us.’ Vitr pulled at his beard as he tried to picture who that might be.

‘Oh, I do not envy him!’ he went on, shaking his head at the thought of the heavy mantle the new Lord would don. ‘And just as great is my duty is to you and to Tíva and Tív . . .to keep you all safe from harm.’ For brief moment a glint of a smile eased up the corners of his mouth as he spoke. ‘I promised your father and your brothers I would do so, you remember . . .under threat of some horrid and painful punishment if I did not.’

‘But come, let’s put away these heavy thoughts at least for tonight,’ Vitr said in a lighter tone. ‘When I left the hall, the elders were gathering together for counsel. And our worrying here in the dark will not help them make what plans as they deem are needed. I’ve every confidence that they will figure out what we need to do. And I’m quite confidant too that steps have already been taken to keep the hall safe for now.’

Vitr stood up, gathering both their mugs. ‘You go on to bed; I’ll be there directly.’ He held up the mugs with one hand, their thick clay sides making an emphatic clunk as he did so. ‘I’ll just put these in the sink . . . and bar the door. It won’t take but a moment.’

[Groin Redbeard]

The frozen expression of shock did not disappear from Adela's face, as Nisa hoped it would when she approached. Rather it worsened, and when Nisa took a step towards her friend Adela jumped back and mumbled something that Nisa couldn't understand, then promptly fled.

Exasperated, Nisa fell to her knees. The walls of the very hall itself were pressing in around her, the towering columns seemed to fall down; Nisa felt panicked at what she was imagining and tried to stand but promptly stumbled back to her knees. She began to cry. Nothing could shake the horrible feeling of despair that she was feeling at the moment: left utterly alone to deal with her sorrow, but Nisa did not want to be alone. She wanted to throw herself in the arms of someone who loved her and share her feelings with that someone, but no one could fill that place. Tror had left and Adela had ran. Svior! but where was he to be found, and would he approve of her throwing himself in his arms, after all, there was another who was closer to Svior's heart than she was. Oh where was Tror?

Still crying, alone and forsaken, Nisa stood as best she could after the fainting spell had passed. She made her way to a nearby table, where moments ago she had been feasting merrily with her friends, and buried her head within the confines of her hands. Perhaps the loneliness wouldn't feel so terrible if the rest of the world was shut out.

[Lilly]

Wasn’t that just like him....trying to smooth things over. Well this wasn’t something to be smoothed over now was it. Lord Balin was dead....from an Orc’s arrow. And where there was one Orc, most likely there were many....even more than the hairs in Grandpa Forgefire’s long bushy beard.

Now Lys had never seen an Orc but there had been plenty of stories she’d heard about those foul creatures. That they were savage killers, delighting in inflicting as much pain as they could on their victims. That they had no sense of honor at all. Anyone was fair game. Young, old, male, female – it made no difference. She shuddered, recalling one particularly grisly tale of how they’d butchered some wee little babes and....and....eaten them.

No, this was not something to be smoothed over as a mason would a block of stone....

‘Wait....sit down, Vitr, please.’

Lys grabbed hold of his sleeve before he could step away from the table. She looked up at him and cocked her head toward his chair. ‘Just for a moment. I have something I want to tell you, intended to tell you after the celebration....before this gruesome, awful thing happened.’ She shook her head, a look of overwhelming sadness in her face. Sadness....and fright, too.

‘It’s Durin’s Day, a happy day in itself; a day to celebrate. And made even more glad, or so it should have been, by the celebration of our son and daughter’s birth day. I’d thought to add another level to this gladness. I....’

She squeezed his arm.

‘Look,’ she blurted out. ‘I don’t want you to go hunting those Orcs. Even if the next Lord asks you. I don’t want you away from us. I don’t want you away from me, Vitr....and our new child....’

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Onli was treading the corridors, here and there, all over the place, up the stairs, down the stairs, back to Twenty-first hall and out again, and he was angry. He could not find Vriti, despite all of his effort; which was understandable, as she would have probably left the place as soon as the celebration turned into a cacophony of unpleasant noises. Now she was hiding in some of her secret places or wandering around tunnels. Let her wander. But Onli had meanwhile the time to sort his thoughts. It was not that he would be completely heartless. He pitied the loss of Balin. Maybe that was a part of the source for his anger, which seemed to surface for unknown reasons.

All right, not just unknown reasons. When Onli thought about the situation, he concluded that life goes on. Life in the colony goes on. And the colony will have a new leader in no time. And who is this new leader going to be seemed clear to Onli: the second in command, Trór. That arrogant warmonger guy with unpleasant gaze. Onli's first thought was that it hardly could have been worse. He never liked Trór and never worked out any special relationship with him, mainly because there was no need to. Trór minded his business when it came to military things, Onli tried to keep on good terms with Balin who was at the top of things. Of course, he would have never imagined that things are going to turn out like this, otherwise he would have paid more attention on forming his relationship with Trór.

But on his second thought, he reevaluated. Because this fellow certainly knew nothing about running the colony, of course, he had some experience, but Onli was convinced that most of all, Trór is a military officer and as a military officer he is going to need somebody to advice him on the more subtle matters of economics, managing the trade and craft and development of the colony.

And this is why Onli has been looking for Trór, for quite some time already, but with no results. Neither could he find any of the Elders. He was fed up with this already when he once again entered the great hall. The sounds of crying were heard already before he entered, and in fact, Onli could hear them almost everywhere now, or so it seemed to him. Quickly, he looked around the room, in vain hope to notice the face of Trór or any of the Elders. At one moment he stopped, catching a glimpse of... yes, that was Trór's cousin, Nîsa. Intuitively, he started to walk towards her, but before reaching her he stopped. No, first, this was no place - and by her looks, it seemed also like not a good situation to ask, but then, possibly she could tell him where Trór was? But now she once again put her head in her hands. Onli frowned.

I wonder if I can get a single word out of her now, he thought. But who of all people should know better where Trór is than her?

Onli cleared his throat and put on the most comforting smile, although inside him, everything was boiling.

"I am very sorry to disturb you in your grief, young lady Nîsa," he said in a most polite and calm voice. "This is a very sorrowful day, and I despair too. But I sought you out because you might be able to help me. I need to speak to your cousin Trór in an important matter, but I could not find him. Might you perhaps help me to learn where he is now?"