The King's Players RPG

[Formendacil]

For an older man to a younger woman of roughly the same social status, Amdír tended to be extremely deferential to Brinn. Whether it was because she was head of the company his master had assigned him to assist, or out of some reverence for her stage name and vast travel experience, the fact was that Brinn slightly awed the old carpenter. Consequently, since he had never before been involved in something that displeased her, being a reliable and punctual man, and not generally involved with Brinn except where the setpieces were concerned, and thus it was with a gulp in his throat that he responded when she called him over.

"We should probably discuss the sets tonight," she said, "since I remember it took a good week last year to get the old pieces out of storage, and back into the city, and that was without having to modify them drastically. First, though, what happened to Branor? He can be too heavy with his drinking, but he rarely gets like this before nightfall."

"He was, ah, overcome," said Amdír, fumbling for a precise way to put it. "Overcome by good fortune, I suppose you could say. Master Samwise Gamgee was at the Rohirric Unicorn, and let us speak with him for quite some time about his life and our play."

"Samwise Gamgee... the Halfling?" said Brinn. "Surely you don't mean the one in our play?"

"Yes," said Amdír, "Branor made the mistake of telling him he's dead, and the drinking started, I think, as an attempt to win Master Samwise's goodwill. I think that Branor had some idea of getting him to recount his memories of the War, so that he'd have material to give Aldarion, so that he could rework the play to not offend Master Samwise."

"Offend Master Samwise? Why should he care?"

"Apparently Master Samwise and his family are planning to attend the play," explained Amdír. "He said that his daughter has spoken of it frequently."

"So Branor drank too much because he was afraid because a Hobbit servant and his family might watch a play where he doesn't really appear?" Brinn was still confused, and Amdír realised that she did not know that the King was being invited.

"Well, he might have drank too much because Therian was encouraging him," admitted Amdír, wondering a second later if he should have said it, "but we were all anxious. Master Samwise isn't just some Hobbit servant--he and his family are the guests of King Elessar."

The dawn of comprehension appeared in Brinn's eyes.

"I should also mention that Lord Cirdacil--he's the new Master of Revels--mentioned to me that he was inviting King Elessar to this play, since he is so prominently figured in the tale it recounts."

Amdír let the import of his news sink in rather than press on with a further list of his own concerns about Master Samwise dying in the First Act--if he appeared at all.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"So then he says, he says 'Of course she was a lady the whole time! That was the point, wasn' it?' and I says to him, 'In her heart, sure, but I mean in her armor. There wasn' any witchery or anything? Are you sure?' and he says he cannot be sure because he wasn' there hisself, what with being in Mordor at the time and all, but he was pretty downright sure that she was always a woman the whole time, even when she got hit with the mace and had her arm broke."

"I was there too," Branor groaned, his head wobbling a little. He looked down to double check that he was, in fact, sitting on the edge of a wagon. "I know what the halfling said. He said the King was a secret spy!"

"Really, Bran, he said no such thing."

"He did!"

Therian considered this. At first he had been inclined to keep his drunken associate from making a fool of himself to the Boss. But as Brinn glanced toward them, Therian thought better of it. Let Branor tell her that King Elessar was mucking around with allegiances during the War. Let him tell her he needed new lines written. You thought I was on your side, Dark Lord, but who is the lord now, huh? Who is the lord now!

Yes, let him tell her that...

[the phantom]

Aldarion watched the exchange intently. Branor was obviously drunk, so his account could not be trusted. Was the whole thing a joke or a misunderstanding? The primary point thus far seemed to be that Samwise was not a simple servant but an important Hobbit that now ruled the Shire- AND Samwise and the King himself would be attending the performance! If these things were true, some serious rewriting was in order, and perhaps some recasting.

Aldarion quietly moved forward towards the conversation, not wanting to miss a word.

[Pitchwife]

When Asta had left him standing there and run away to alert Brinn and Rollan, Coldan had tried to make the best of the situation and sequestered himself in his room in order to spend what time he could working on the play he had been writing (or pretending to write) for the last three years: The Fall of King Bladorthin, a historical tragedy in five acts chronicling the last days of the greatest king of Dorwinion. One day, when it was completed, he hoped he would be able to convince Brinn to perform it, and it would earn him the fame he deserved and put that over-prolific scribbler Aldarion in his place. The only problem with that was he had to finish it first, and circumstances seemed always to conspire against his making any substantial progress with the composition, so that after three years, he still hadn't written down more than a few pages of prologue and the beginning of Act I.

This Yavannië afternoon, circumstances conspired as busily as ever, for he had scarcely chewed the end of his quill for a quarter of an hour when he heard agitated voices in the courtyard. At first he tried to ignore them, refusing to let himself be disturbed, but suddenly it dawned on him that Branor and his companions must have returned and the rehearsal was about to begin any moment. Cursing, he dropped the quill, making an ugly blot on the much corrected manuscript, and hurried to join the others.

He was quite surprised to find that rather than getting ready to rehearse, the troupe was gathered around Branor, who was to all appearances solidly plastered and babbling incoherent stuff about the King being a secret spy. Bewildered, he nudged Harrenon, who was standing next to him, and whispered: "Could you please enlighten me vat ze Udûn is going on here?"

[Dimturiel]

“Could you please enlighten me vat ze Udun is going on here?”

Harrenon turned when Coldan nudged him and smiled wryly in answer to the latter’s question. Indeed, they seemed to have gotten themselves into a very fine mess. They had not even started the rehearsals yet – although they were quite behind schedule at the moment – nor did it seemed likely for them to start too soon if Branor did not sober up fast. And Branor’s state was not the most worrying thing. There was also the problem of what they had found out at the tavern. Harrenon sighed and shook his head,

“Branor got a little…over-enthusiastic with the drink,” he told Coldan. “Although, you could say this time it was not entirely his fault,” he added, casting Therian a pointed look. “And, well, there was also the unexpected encounter in the tavern…”

Harrenon paused, noticing that Aldarion had approached the group and was now listening attentively. Harrenon inspected him carefully, trying to determine his mood. Would he be too angry when Harrenon told him that most likely they would have to change a few important parts in the play? He took a deep breath and began, looking anywhere but at his fellow players:

“See, we ran into a Hobbit, and Amdir introduced him as Master Samwise and said he was Frodo’s companion. Apparently he is not dead. Nor is he the bumbling fool we believed he was…”

Harrenon paused, wondering whether it was safe to address the problem of Mary the Elf too, but then he decided that he should not be the only bearer of bad news. He would give Therian the chance of doing that. He had been at the tavern too, after all. Instead, Harrenon turned back to Coldan:

“So you see,” he finished. “You could say we are having a few…well, a few misfortunes.”

[Thinlómien]

"Stop!" Sereth shouted. "With this ring I command the very breath in your lungs!" Her clear voice echoed in the small street behind the inn and a few mongrel-looking dogs started barking and running around, scaring off the pigeons on the roof.

Not nearly commanding enough, Sereth thought, even the dogs don't take me seriously, they just create more racket. Now the smaller dog was chasing the bigger one, and they managed to knock over a bucket full of water near the backdoor of the kitchen.

"Stop!" bellowed a voice from the open window. "Blackie and Nosey, stop right now!" The smaller dog let out a small wail, but both dogs stopped on the tracks. The innkeeper's son - a burly and unfriendly-looking man in his mid-twenties - came out and started telling the dogs off their behaviour. Sereth slipped to the shadows and quietly started making her way to the courtyard, smiling. Now she knew exactly what tone to use.

She heard the silver chiming of the bells. Should be there already! she thought and started making her way to the courtyard hurriedly.

It proved more difficult than she had thought, because she found two dead ends before finally getting to the main street which led to the inn. She had always been bad with directions, but she was sure that this time it was really because she didn't concentrate. Brinn won't like me being late, she thought. She really didn't want to give Brinn any more worries than she already had because of the big show coming up, but she just kept failing today.

She arrived just in time to see Amdír, Therian, Branor and Harrenon appear. She listened to their story with growing agitation. Surely it wasn't the Samwise and sure he wasn't coming see them and sure not the King too! How could she ever do her role so that it would please two of Frodo the Great Warrior's friends and companions on that dangerous journey?

Also, Branor was drunk, which was not good. He would mess up the rehearsal in that state, and she really didn't like the unfocused look in his eyes. It brought very old memories of Stepdad, and they were not pleasant. Therian was not much better, there was something in his attitude that Sereth didn't like. Not that she liked him too much in general, but he seemed especially mean tonight. Old Amdír at least was making sense and Harrenon - well, Sereth preferred not to pay too much attention to him because recently being too close to the young man with wild black hair and bright eyes had become slightly uncomfortable.

She stopped involuntarily stealing glances at Harrenon's direction when Brinn's words drilled into hear head "...in the meantime, we rehearse as usual. Thank you for telling me this news, Amdir--Cirdacil, you say, is the man in charge of this? You'll have to tell me more about him." Thank Eru! Sereth thought and hurried to busy herself with the costumes and stage design.

Fifteen minutes later, Brinn was welcoming the audience which was of course non-existent at this point. At their cue, Sereth stepped on the stage with Amdír and Coldan. She turned at Coldan's direction and was supposed to introduce their mission to the servant, but when she looked at him she couldn't help but say instead: "Coldan, you have ink on your face."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Therian watched the rehearsal progress. He would not be needed until the Players got as far as the Misty Mountains, when he would don a cloak, be an orc, and die. Until then, he would serve a different purpose.

Sereth shot him an ugly look and Therian was reminded yet again that he was unwelcome in the company. Pity, because the girl was quite lovely, and in a few short years when she was marriageable, he had thought she might make a good match. Feisty, she was. She had seen the world, and knew of its troubles, and was still charming. Of course she wanted to spend her life as a director or some such, but she would grow out of that once it was time to get married and have children. All headstrong women did, after all. But she was young, so there was plenty of time for her to realize the error of her ways.

"Brinn," Therian said, "we've run into a bit of a problem."

"Yes, I've heard. The King is coming, and Samwise is not an idiot, and everything is going wrong."

"Yes..." He hesitated, "but what I was thinking was actually that there may be two characters named Mary. You see, Master Samwise told us that there is a hobbit named Mary, and the description did not sound much at all like our Mary. So it seems as though Merry the hobbit came along as far as Bree, where Mary the Elf lass joined them, and then Mary the Elf never made it as far as the final battle, which is why there was confusion about there being more than one..."

Brinn buried her face in her hands.

"Or there might just be one Merry and he is a he, and he is also only a couple feet tall, and he may or may not own the parts of the Shire that Samwise and Prince Peregrin do not? It was all pretty confusing, especially with Branor talking all about how our dinner companion was not really alive..."

[the phantom]

As Aldarion stood beside the stage dressed as King Butterbur, he heard Therian inform Brinn that there was possibly a huge problem with the "Mary the Elf" character. Unable to contain himself any longer, Aldarion stepped onto the stage right into the middle of Amdir, Coldan, and Sereth, who had been acting out an early scene from the Shire.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Aldarion insisted, not looking at anyone in particular. The actors froze and looked at Aldarion, perhaps wondering what they had done wrong. The players not featured in the scene looked up at Aldarion as well. He took a deep breath and spoke. "Should we really be rehearsing? Because from what I gather, we have one character in this thing that shouldn't be, we kill a character that should live and have more lines, our primary character is all wrong, and the actor that plays him is drunk!!"

A couple players slowly opened their mouths only to close them again. After a few seconds of silence, Aldarion spoke once more. "If these reports are true, then we essentially have a brand new production on our hands, and the sooner we get things sorted out the better. Personally I would prefer to perform some other tale- "The Fall of Smaug" or "The Halfling & The Trolls", or of course "The Children of Hurin" which I feel is our best to trot out for royalty. But really, any tale would suffice, so long as it is one that does not feature prominent members of our audience!"

[Mnemosyne]

The King? The King had been invited? Granted, Brinn understood the importance of courtesy invitations, but Amdir seemed to think that this was something more...

What was more, she trusted his judgment--he'd been a good worker for them, had a good head on his shoulders, and knew Minas Anor the way the players never would.

"How likely do you think it is that he would accept?" she said.

"We should plan, at any rate--Master Samwise seemed very interested in attending, and he has the King's ear."

There were butterflies in Brinn's stomach. Nervously, she swallowed and tamped them down. "We won't do anything until we have confirmation--surely, if the King himself, or even his royal guest, is attending, someone will want to ensure they have the prime seats. In the meantime, we rehearse as usual. Thank you for telling me this news, Amdir--Cirdacil, you say, is the man in charge of this? You'll have to tell me more about him."

Fifteen minutes later, Brinn stood in the inn-yard. The stage waggon's front was down, with all the set markings chalked in. Fortunately, at this point very little was there, although Asta would want to run the mechanicals, of course.

She cleared her throat and looked on at their audience--three cats and one small child. More would come, no doubt, as the show progressed. "My lords and ladies--" Strange, that some might actually be there this year! "--and people of Minas Anor, come and see the deeds of days past, come to life before your very eyes! We, the King's Players, will take you on a journey to the dark days of the War of the Ring, sharing with you the mighty deeds done, when all of Middle-earth lay under shadow, and the bravery of those who broke it. Watch and see, and let your minds now be drawn to earlier times and far-off lands, to the peaceful land called Shire, whence came the mighty warrior, Frodo the Halfling, and his companions!"

She withdrew to the side, clapping to encourage the invisible audience, as Sereth--looking all too nervous for Brinn's tastes--Coldan, and Amdir, stepped on the stage.

Then she walked back to find Aldarion and discuss with him what might have to happen if they needed to rewrite the script.