D&D 5E Tap Tap Tap

[BoldItalic]

"We know little of the history of this place," BoldItalic began. "To judge from the state of the buildings, this abbey and the village itself were abandoned suddenly, all at the same time. I have looked quickly into some of the houses, and there are plates of mouldy food on the tables, as if the residents had fled mid-meal. I believe that if we explore the abbey buildings, we will find something similar. Something catastrophic happened here, in the recent past, and we do not know what. That is making me uneasy. It is possible that Captain Mandárion might know something, for he will doubtless be familiar with events in the countryside around his citadel, but I imagine that he would not talk about it, in case that knowledge aids you in fulfilling the quest."

Rylnethaz nodded "Forewarned is forearmed," he agreed. "We should explore the abbey above ground as thoroughly as we can, before descending into the dungeons. I wonder if Clotbert has any insight? He is more familiar with the interiors of abbeys than you or I. He might notice things that we do not. Also, we should know where all the possible entrances and exits from the dungeons lie. Perhaps we should make a map so that we know where to head when we are underground?"

"Yes, we must involve Clotbert. He seems to have the favour of Myrristra. Indeed, I think we should all make the exploration together; ourselves with Clotbert, Fingers and your Princess. The more eyes to spot clues, the better. We can say that everyone must familiarize themselves with the layout above ground, in case we get separated while below. The soldiers can come along if the captain wishes, though we do not need them, but they will not hinder us in any event."

That being agreed, Rylnethaz called everyone together and explained the plan. The captain refrained from volunteering any information that might have helped, and simply stated that where the princess went, he and his elves would go too.

They explored the great hall of the abbey, where benches lay in overturned disarray and found nothing but a lost sandal that might have belonged to a monk, and a scrap of paper that Clotbert identified as simply a page from a prayer book relating to a blessing on the harvest, and he attached no importance to it.

They moved on, and visited the kitchens where cauldrons of vegetables had plainly boiled dry and their contents turned to scorched lumps before the fires beneath them had burned out for lack of fresh firewood. Some steps led down from the kitchen to extensive cellars where barrels of mead lay untouched. Fingers made a mental note of this. Mead was valuable, although barrels were cumbersome to transport.

As they all gathered together in the cellar, BoldItalic asked them to look round for signs of rats, mice and spiders. It seemed a strange thing to worry about but it soon became apparent why he was so interested, for there were none to be found anywhere. "Is it not strange?" he asked the others, "This place is deserted and easily accessible; would you not have expected vermin and other small creatures to have moved in? Yet clearly they have not. Perhaps they know something and avoid this place. Or perhaps they did come and all have been devoured."

Infántilë shuddered inwardly. "I detest mice and spiders," she said, "and am only too pleased to see none, but I must admit that the complete absence of them, in a dank and gloomy cellar like this, does seem unnatural."

BoldItalic nodded, and turned to Clotbert. "Do you sense any evil presence hereabouts?" he enquired. Clotbert reached into his robe for his figurine of Myrristra, said a short prayer and turned slowly right around. "Evil has been here," he said, "A very intense evil, but it was long ago and the emanations have faded. There is none here now, in this cellar. Nevertheless, I will give everyone Myrristra's blessing."

As he did so, a shriek came from one of the great pillars that held up the roof and a gruesome face appeared in the stones. "GO NOT HENCE!" it cried, then faded from view.

All were astonished.

 

[BoldItalic]

"That was scary, what does it mean?" asked Infántilë, clinging suddenly to Rylnethaz.

"There must be something in this cellar that we are intended to discover," he replied wrapping his arms around the princess. "Have another look around everyone, look behind those mead barrels, if you can."

"Just be careful with them," pleaded Fingers, "They're worth quite a bit, you know, in the right market. Hold on while I try to squeeze behind them." After a while, he gave a low whistle of surprise. "Bold, can you bring your light over here? I think there's a trapdoor under this lot."

Clotbert, BoldItalic and Rylnethaz worked together to clear away the stacks of barrels around Fingers. There was indeed a trapdoor in the floor. "Well, this may be one entrance to the dungeons," was BoldItalic's thought. "Should we descend, or look for other entrances too?"

"Let's just get it open, and see what's down there," decided Rylnethaz, giving the trapdoor a good heave. It opened suddenly and fell with a crash against the nearby wall. Peering down, they saw what appeared to be a brick-lined well-shaft but the bottom wasn't visible. Fingers tossed in a pebble and counted "one-ox-cart, two-ox-carts, three-ox-carts, four .." before the faint echo of a 'plop' came back up the shaft. "About five hundred feet," he announced. "Too far for ropes, and I'm not going down there without one, before anyone gets any ideas."

"Oh, ye of little faith," said BoldItalic with a slight smirk, and tapped Fingers on the toes with his staff while reciting a bit of nonsense verse about spiders in drainpipes.

"Hey! What have you done?" shouted Fingers, as his toenails grew suddenly into hook-like claws.

"Don't worry," laughed BoldItalic, "It's only temporary. You'll be able to scuttle down the well shaft and back up again in no time at all. I'll cast a spell on your hat to make it light up so you can see what you are doing."

Fingers sighed. "That's all very well but why is it always me?" he grumbled. "Oh, well, let's get it over with," and he climbed down the shaft while the others groaned at his terrible puns.

They watched as the shine from his hat went deeper and deeper into the shaft. When it was so far down as to be barely a glimmering point of light, Fingers shouted back up. "Nothing so far!" and then they heard him curse. "I've lost my hat!" he shouted, "It's fallen right down to the bottom!"

"Well, just go down and fetch it!" shouted Rylnethaz. "Don't be unkind, dear," said Infántilë reprovingly, "The little fellow is doing his best. He didn't have to come with us."

Rylnethaz heard himself saying "Yes, dear," and wondered a bit about that afterwards. He seemed to be becoming someone else who said different things but, somehow, he couldn't find the urge not to.

After a minute or two, another shout came from below. "Got it. It's ... AARGH!"

 

[Rylnethaz]

“Fingers, I am going to assume you have just strained a muscle trying to reach for your hat. Isn’t it so?” asked Rylnehtaz.

“AARGH, it’s on me, OH, AH, so fast! It’s all over me!”

“Oh no, it is terrible what happened to him?” asked Clotbert, visibly shaken.

“Do something, he is suffering,” said Infántilë to Rylnethaz and squeezed his hand.

As for the elven soldiers, they were standing impassively nearby as Fingers was shouting and apparently wrestling with someone.

“BoldItalic, we have to go down, he is under attack, feather fall would be great right now, Fingers, keep talking to us, we are getting down there immediately, hang on. How many are there?”

“I don’t know, I have already squashed three but there is still one crawling on my head.”

BoldItalic immediately responded, “all right hang on, I am preparing a spell and we will be there to help in… wait a minute, you did what?”

“Is that shameless halfling talking about vermin?” asked Rylnethaz.

“Of course I am talking about vermin, I hate centipedes! Hah, there you are you filthy thing, that will teach you. All right, I squashed it.”

“It seems our friend has a bard-inspiring battle with vermin indeed,” said Clotbert.

“Great,” replied Rylnrthaz, “an auspicious start,” then shouting to Fingers, ”If it is possible, after your epic battle against the many legged menace, we would like some information on your surroundings.”

“You may laugh all you want now but the danger is here, you should have seen the size of it,” said Fingers. “As for the surroundings, I am in the middle of a large chamber, with large stone pillars supporting the ceiling. There is only one door to my left.

“Have you noticed?” BoldItalic asked the others.

“You talk about the vermin,” said Rylnethaz, “where there was none, Fingers has found three or four. Either something keeps them down there or something up here keeps them from getting here. In any case we should hurry. It was admittedly fun but he may indeed need help. However we should also think about how we are getting up here again. We should not get stranded in a well. BoldItalic, I suppose you can get us back here in a similar way, isn’t it so?”

“Hey, what is going on up there? I can hear more scuttling around me.”

“All right, all right, we are coming said BoldItalic.”

 

[BoldItalic]

They soon solved the problem of getting down the well. BoldItalic confidently jumped in first, closely followed by Rylnethaz, the princess, Captain Mandárion and Clotbert, with each holding onto the ankles of the one above so that they didn't get separated. After a few seconds of quite exhilarating free fall, BoldItalic uttered a Feather Fall spell that slowed them all down so that they landed safely at the bottom. Having been given their orders by the captain, the elf soldiers then began to descend in a more orthodox fashion with ropes secured by iron spikes hammered into the brickwork lining of the well.

"I'm glad that worked," said the princess. "You can let go of my ankles, now, Rylni."

"You took your time," complained Fingers. He was wielding a small sword in each hand and was surrounded by several large centipedes in various states of mortality. "I think I've been bitten. My left leg's gone numb."

"Keep still," commanded Clotbert, and he passed his hands over Finger's leg, reciting a prayer to Myrristra as he did so.

"Ow! Now it's stopped being numb and it's tingling like crazy!"

"That will pass quickly. It is just your body countering the poison. All perfectly natural."

"If you say so."

"Good. Now, spread out, everyone," commanded Rylnethaz, "And check every part of this chamber. Shout out if you find any more centipedes or anything else unusual."

While the others hunted around, Fingers limped over the the door that he had seen earlier. He pushed gently against it. It didn't yield. Then he tried the door handle and pushed again. It still didn't yield. He tried pulling instead of pushing. It still didn't yield. "This door isn't locked," he called out, "but there's definitely something holding it shut."

BoldItalic pointed his staff at the door, frowned and said "Konk" in a loud voice. There was a crack from behind the door, as of snapping wood, followed by a thud, as of pieces of broken timber hitting a stone floor, and the door opened.

"That's a useful magic word," commented Fingers as he peered through the doorway. Beyond, by the light of his hat, he could see what might once have been a small dining room but it was hard to tell, because all the furniture had been removed some time in the past, leaving only vague square patches in the dust to suggest where it might have been. He didn't have time to think about it much, though, because there was someone, or something in the room frantically trying to get out by one of the other two doors. Whoever, or whatever it was, gibbered in obvious fear at the sudden and unexpected appearance of a small person with a glowing head (that is, Fingers himself wearing his illuminated hat), the like of which he (or perhaps 'it') had never seen, bursting through a supposedly secure door out of a supposedly sealed empty chamber.

What was strange about the creature was not that it had dark, cloak-like wings, nor even that it had two heads, but that each head had a single, straight horn about three feet long, pointing straight up. That, and the fact that it was covered in purple fur with yellow and green stripes.

"Easy, feller," coaxed Fingers, walking slowly into the room in what he hoped was a non-threatening way. The others followed him and stopped just inside the doorway making non-threatening gestures but the mere appearance of them sent the strange creature into an even greater panic.

"Oh, the poor thing!" murmured Infántilë, and she walked calmly over and started stroking it.

 

[BoldItalic]

The creature, whatever it was, buried each head in one of Infántilë's shoulders and quivered. After a few moments, it calmed down and began to sing a duet with itself. The words were in no language that anyone recognized but the sound was enchantingly musical. As it sang, the air in the room took on a spring-like quality and a faint breeze sprang up reminiscent of forest glades.

"Listen, it is singing of its home," said Rylnethaz in awe. "How came it to be trapped here, hundreds of feet underground? No wonder it is frightened."

The creature seemed almost to understand and its song changed into a quite different one, much more discordant and brutal. The walls of the room seemed to grow misty and, out of the mist came the sound of a battle. Shapes resembling orcs and hobgoblins wavered indistinctly, just out of view. A smell of burning blew in and there was an orange glow in the distance. Then the scene faded, the song stopped and the creature fell silent. Its heads seemed to droop, as if in sadness.

"It was driven from its home," mused BoldItalic, "Its forest was burned by orcs or hobgoblins. Perhaps it was captured and brought here. It cannot escape from here and even if it could, it has nowhere to go."

At that, the creature looked directly at BoldItalic and bowed; first with one head and then the other, as if to indicate assent.

"It seems to understand what we say," observed Clotbert, "And although it does not speak our language, it can communicate very vividly in song. What a remarkable and magical creature!"

"Could be valuable. Just thought I'd mention that," offered Fingers.

"Rylni, I want to take him with us," declared the princess, "Perhaps we can find him a new home somewhere. There are some lovely forests near the citadel. I wonder if he likes apples?"

"Yes, dear," said Rylnethaz without thinking. Then he wondered what he had just agreed to. This was crazy! They were on a quest for a golden sword, not rescuing magical two-headed horned ... well, what was it actually? Did it have a name?

Rylnethaz looked the creature in the eyes (well, some of them, for its heads were a few feet apart at the moment) and asked it "I am Sir Rylnethaz. What shall we call you? Do you have a name?"

The answer was a kind of musical riffle and a word that sounded a bit like the elvish word Alómirion but wasn't quite the same. Rylnethaz tried to imitate it and evidently he was not quite right but close enough, for again the creature bowed, although only with one head this time.

BoldItalic had an idea. "Alómirion," he began, "We will help you leave this place if we can, but we are seeking a golden sword, the Sword of Itraphon, and we cannot leave here until we recover it."

Alómirion understood and began to sing again. This time, the air in the room beside him shimmered and an image of a golden sword appeared hanging in the air, point downwards. It moved slowly towards one of the doors and seemed to glide right through the wooden panels. BoldItalic bowed in the way that Alómirion had done, to show that he understood, and said to the others "He will show us the way."

 

[Rylnethaz]

The party filed through the door that the two headed creature had indicated for them and then continued on through a broad corridor. So broad in fact that they could have walked five of them abreast. There were also some square openings high on the walls that seemed like air ducts but they did not linger more on them, the princess insisted that they should not let the cute little creature wait for them. It would be rude. Everyone agreed not to be ungrateful towards the little singing creature.

“Hmm, the architecture of this place does not seem to conform very much to a certain style,” observed BoldItalic as they marvelled at the bass relief scenes alternating between pastoral life and celestial and demonic battles. “First mosaics, then bland rooms with almost no decoration then this.”

“It is good though that the creature leads us to our target, at least I think it does,” said Rylnethaz.

“You seem to be in doubt my friend. Something wrong? Any quarrels with the lady that stole your heart?” said BoldItalic with a wink.

Rylnethaz did not say anything at first but seemed in trouble.

“Speak your mind, I am the High Vizier but how am I supposed to offer consultancy if I do not know what is troubling you? Is there a problem with the princess? I would hardly believe it though, you two are in perfect agreement it seems.”

“You are correct, there is something troubling me, perfect agreement indeed. Too perfect sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

At this point they reached a room where a series of arches divided the architecture in two parts, one with smooth polished black and white marble tiles beyond the arches and that on which they stood now, a low ceiling colonnaded chamber with four large columns filled with nothing but elliptical and triangular shapes of every size.

They decided to take a breath for five minutes, have some water and adjust equipment. The princess called at Rylnethaz from behind a column, “quite interesting decoration don’t you think dear, maybe we should try something similar back home. Less gloomy of course.”

“Yes dear,” Rylnethaz replied. Then thinking to himself, ‘Yes dear? The place seems to disagree with itself and it is the epitome of erratic, why did I agree with this?’

At this moment, BoldItalic came by. “You were about to help me help you. I am listening. Although overhearing your conversation with the bride I must question your taste in decoration. But it might end up being the next style to go for, who knows? I am not a decorator in any case, she might be right after all.”

“You know, this timing was perfect for what troubles me. Don’t you think the princess and I are in too much of an agreement?”

“The harmony of a couple I guess. I envy you sometimes. Things like that lead to a long happy life, a sense of fulfilment.”

“Let me rephrase then, don’t you think that I am in too much of an agreement with the princess? And all of you follow me around without expressing too much of a different opinion.”

BoldItalic’s eyes were suddenly wide open and all he managed to utter was, “Oh!”

“Exactly! Keep an eye on me and start delving into that lore tome of yours as soon as possible. Yesterday would be a good time for you to start.”

Then Rylnethaz turned his back to BoldItalic and called to Infántilë, “I am coming right away dear!”

 

[BoldItalic]

BoldItalic settled down to rest against a pillar, took out his tobaco pipe and started to think about what Rylnethaz had been trying to tell him.

The princess did seem to have the power to get other people to agree with her, but then she was a princess, after all, and presumably well-schooled in the social graces. People expected to defer to princesses and perhaps did so without thinking, out of politeness? If Rylnethaz became a king, would people automatically defer to him? He hadn't really had much contact with royalty before, so he wasn't sure he would know the difference.

On the other hand, she might be using some kind of eldritch power to help her dominate other people but if she was, she would have to be a sorceress of some considerable talent and he had not witnessed her doing anything else extraordinary that might point to such ability. She could be keeping it carefully hidden, of course, but why would she?

Then again, if she was a sorceress, was this necessarily a bad thing? If she induced them all to do something self-destructive or foolish, then that would be something to worry about, but so far she had only persuaded them to do things that turned out well. Except, ... he would think that, wouldn't he, if he was being beguiled?

He needed some sort of test, to reveal if he was truly the master of his own thoughts, one that he could likewise apply to Rylnethaz and the others. This wasn't going to be easy.

He shifted in his position, and was aware of the princess staring at him oddly. He decided to try something, but it was risky. He closed his eyes and imagined himself killing the princess, violently, with a bolt of lightning. He formed the thought in his mind very clearly, and imagined the lightning flashing across and burning into her. The image was brilliant in his mind's eye. He started to think the words of a lightning spell, whilst not intending to really complete it. Would she read his mind and react? What would she do if she did?

There was a thud as his head hit the floor.

 

[BoldItalic]

"I'm most terribly sorry," said Clotbert as he brought BoldItalic round with a healing incantation and applied a poultice to the lump on his head to reduce the swelling. "I don't know how it happened. One minute I was reciting Myrristra's Prayer Of Rest and the next minute I was turning towards you. I must have been going to say something but I have no idea what it was. Then my mace gave you a terrific crack on the head. It was all over in a moment."

"We thought he had gone insane," put in Rylnethaz. "Possessed by demons, or something."

BoldItalic decided to stay sitting down for the moment. It was painfully obvious that someone in the room could read his mind. That being so, there was no point in keeping his thoughts private. "It's not Clotbert's fault," he announced to the room in general. "Someone here read my mind, though not accurately enough, and supposed that I was about to attack one of you. I wasn't, but I pretended to be, as a thought experiment. It was a trick. And it worked. Someone here can read minds. Just, not very well."

There was an awkward moment while the others took this in. "Does this mean what I think it means?" asked Rylnethaz carefully.

"It means more than that," replied BoldItalic. "Whoever it is, panicked and reacted by forcing Clotbert to knock me out. It could have been anyone, but Clotbert just happened to be the nearest to me at the time. He was acting under a compulsion, not under his own volition. So, I conclude that not only can someone here read our minds but that same someone can take over our minds and force us to do things against our will. We are in the presence of a very powerful being."

Everyone looked very uncomfortable at that, and people looked suspiciously around at each other, trying to work out who it was. "Well, it's not me," said Fingers quickly. "If I could read minds, let alone make people dance like puppets, I wouldn't be here at all. I'd be walking around town knowing where all people's secret stashes of gold were hidden and making them give me all their money." Then looked thoughtfully at nobody in particular and added "I don't suppose whoever it is, could teach me the trick could you? You can plant it in my mind if you like. I won't be offended." He paused, and held his head on one side for a moment, as if listening. "Nothing coming in," he announced. "Oh well, it was worth a try."

Infántilë looked down. "Who was it you imagined attacking with your lightning bolt?" she asked. Was it someone you suspected? Was it me?"

"Yes," said BoldItalic. "And you have just confirmed my suspicions, haven't you?"

"Just a moment, what's going on?" demanded the captain as he waved his soldiers into position to guard the princess. He laid a hand on BoldItalic's shoulder and said firmly "If you were even thinking about harming her highness ..."

"Let him go. He knows the truth," said Infántilë sadly. "I gave myself away, didn't I?"

"Can someone please explain?" asked Rylnethaz. "I don't like not knowing what's going on."

"I'm sorry, dear. You are well served by your vizier. He said that he imagined attacking someone, but only the person who read his mind would have known that he was thinking about a particular spell, a Lightning Bolt, that would have killed me. And he knew that I knew." She sighed. "Yes, I can read minds, though not very well. Just pictures, really. And I can compel people, though not very subtly. My father is far better at it than I am. That's how he keeps his throne, of course, though it's supposed to be a secret. His subjects would be unhappy if they knew the true nature of his power." She looked sorrowfully at Rylnethaz. "Will you still take me, now that you know?"

Sir Rylnethaz gazed at the princess. "I think you know the answer, don't you?" he said.

 

[Rylnethaz]

“Sadly, yes, you deny me. But if you can’t be with me, you can’t…”

Then the princess’ face suddenly changed into an expression of worry and tried to say something but that split second was all that took for Rylnethaz to draw his weapon in one fluid motion and slice through the captain’s hand on BoldItalic’s shoulder and half of the captain’s torso. The captain died on the spot. Rylnethaz shouted, “Kill them all, focus on suppressing the princess,” just as Infántilë ordered the remaining soldiers to attack.

BoldItalic’s answer was only a word, “Gladly,” as he let loose with a lightning bolt searing through one of the soldiers in the front, narrowly missing the princess and incinerating the head of an archer in the back.

Rylnethaz then started running straight for the princess. “Fingers, with me, Clotbert, cover the middle ground.”

The soldiers, having lost their leader and surprised by this unexpected turn of events were slow to react. Only one of them, a semi-blank, controlled expression in his face, was reacting fast, getting in front of Rylnethaz. Rylnethaz bypassed him fast and then turned around immediately to attack him. The soldier was no stranger to combat maneuvers and turned around himself to parry the attack. What the soldier did not notice was Fingers, running right behind Rylnethaz. As the soldier turned his back on him, Fingers kicked hard the back of one of the soldier’s legs, making him buckle and piercing him with his sword. The soldier fell on the floor dying.

“Do something idiots!” shouted the princess and then focused on Rylnethaz. The Archers took aim and shot their arrows at Rylnethaz who took cover in a crouched stance behind his shield. Arrows were stuck on his shield and Rylnethaz broke them off with a sweeping motion of his sword and then kept going.

Suddenly, Rylnethaz froze in place and discarded his shield. Infántilë shouted in a mocking tone, “You will not be needing this anymore dear,” to which Rylnethaz answered, “Yes dear, of course.” Clotbert however, who was already in place, whispered, “not so fast” and a surge of purifying energy hit the area around Rylnethaz suppressing the mind controlling hold on him. A roaring blast of fire from BoldItalic exploded on the other end of the room, engulfing the remaining archers, their cries of agony covering every other sound.

Two of the soldiers ran straight at Rylnethaz while the remaining two split between Fingers and Clotbert. Infántilë then focused on BoldItalic. “You are getting annoying.” Years of learning intellectual techniques required for spell casting enabled him to resist the control for a while but even he would eventually give in. Knowing that, he cast a spell of haste on Rylnethaz before losing control of himself.

Clotbert managed to utter another spell, a spell of holding, aimed at the soldier coming for him, stopping him in his tracks then approached the soldier attacking Fingers, drawing his attention. That was enough for Fingers to pierce the soldier’s torso below the armpit. The soldier collapsed whizzing, with a punctured lung, blood and air flowing through the wound.

Rylnethaz reverted to griping the sword from both the handle and the middle of the blade, deflecting one of his opponent’s hit in mid swing and driving the pommel on the other’s face. Then, trapping his opponent’s sword with his own he drove the point of the sword through the man’s upper thigh, severing the femoral artery. The opponent soon collapsed in a pool of blood.

Then the whole area was filled with sleet and freezing rain making impossible for anyone to stand on the slick iced area. Everyone between the princess and BoldItalic who had cast the spell, mind controlled by the princess, started losing their balance and falling down unable to move. Almost everyone, as Rylnethaz, his natural dexterity aided by BoldItalics haste spell, kept his footing and he kept closing towards Infántilë.

Infántilë, an expression of shock on her face saw Rylnethaz too late coming out of the obscured area of the spell. Before she could do anything, Rylnethaz was already on her, a parody of embrace, his sword half way embedded in her stomach. “My dear…,” she started saying but Rylnethaz interrupted her. “Know this my dear, I am my own lord, you do not control my mind. Also, I hear stomach wounds hurt awfully, especially if you twist the blade, shuffling the viscera. Like this… my dear!”

 

[BoldItalic]

There was a moment's lull, as BoldItalic, no longer under the control of the late princess, dismissed the ice storm. "Is everyone alright?" asked Clotbert, "We seem to have slaughtered a lot of elves. Such as pity they turned against us."

Rylnethaz, BoldItalic and Fingers murmured that they were unscathed. The two remaining elf soldiers, seeing that they were now faced with overwhelming odds, wisely decided to surrender and offered their swords, hilt-first, to Rylnethaz. They gave their names as Heian and Tharivol. "I accept your surrender," said Rylnethaz graciously, "You have fought nobly and there is no shame in that. Nevertheless, your duty to the princess and to your captain is ended with their deaths and you are now, temporarily at least, under my command." They both saluted to show that they accepted their new positions.

"Can we do something for the dead?" wondered Clotbert, "We should not just leave them lying here."

"No, indeed," agreed Rylnethaz. Let us see if we can find a suitable side chamber where they can be laid to rest in a fitting manner. Heian, Tharivol, check the captain and your comrades for any personal effects. If they have any, I would like you to take care of them and try to return them to their families and loved ones at the citadel if you can. I myself will take one of Infántilë's rings from her finger. She wears one with the Forlond seal. I may send it to her father so that he knows she is dead."

"They won't be needing their ration packs any longer," pointed out Fingers astutely. "I'll see that they are properly taken care of. Can't leave them lying about, might attract vermin."

"Do you wish to continue the quest for the golden sword?" asked BoldItalic, "There seems little point now, unless it is of great value in itself, which I somehow doubt. Gold is valuable but is too soft to take an edge, so it would at best be a mere ornament. And besides, our two-headed guide seems to have absented himself in the commotion, so we would be lucky to find it down here in any event."

"True, I had forgotten about Alómirion," admitted Rylnethaz. "He was a timid beast at best and no doubt fled unnoticed at the first sign of strife. Well, if he is gone, he is gone and that's an end of it. We fall back now on our own resources."

"May we take it that you will no longer seek kingship by marrying a princess? That only leaves conquest."

"Yes," laughed Rylnethaz, "I have had enough of princesses for some time to come. I would wrest the crown from Gil-Galad if I could, for as we have learnt, he is an evil tyrant who keeps his court enslaved with his psychic powers. If his subjects only knew the truth, they might rise up against him. It's a possibility."

BoldItalic turned to the two elven swordmen. "Heian and Tharivol, what say you? Now that you know the true nature of Gil-Galad's rule, heard from the lips of his own daughter, how do you feel about it? How would your fellow citizens feel about it? Would they rebel or accept? Speak freely, we will not hold it against you, whatever you say."

Heian looked uncomfortable. "The king is greatly respected and loved," he began, "But we elves love freedom too and to some, the thought that they have been unwitting slaves for many centuries may be hard to bear. Some might join you, but others oppose. That in itself would cause much strife."

"Also, you may be asking the wrong people," ventured Tharivol. "We soldiers are accustomed to obeying our superiors without question. Whether our orders come through shouted commands or are planted directly in our minds, makes little difference to us."

"I thank you both," said BoldItalic with a grave nod. "You have spoken wisely and well. To forment an armed insurrection in the populace would not be a good way to go about it. There may be another way. I need to ponder this at some length."