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mischieffoal · 1 year ago

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Rosie, Frodo and Sam, Now and for Always

Here it comes: Cici’s chaotic “review” of Lord of the Rings: a Musical Tale

(Spoilers for the musical: go and see it (it's running until mid-October 2023) and then read this)

“My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell in the park.

5 stars.”

Nothing like a bracing sprint through Reading station to forge fine friendships over somehow managing to get to Newbury and the Windmill Theatre in time. We unite with our friends, get a group photo in the designated Instagram spot and, most importantly, confirm that there will be ice cream in the interval.

It’s Mr. Bilbo’s eleventy-oneth birthday, didn’t you know? The hobbits make sure we are well informed, and someone on our picnic table is accosted by Fatty Bolger and made to play whack the rat. They all look lovely, waistcoats and sandals abounding, and some watching fauntlings are very gently introduced to hoopla. In general, if you are LARP-positive, sit at the left hand end - we were in the prime spot. Bilbo complimented my cloak and I derided my companions once again for being the only cloaked representative of our smial. Then, someone else approaches - she asks us if Mr. Bilbo said anything odd. Nothing odd at all, we reply, all a perfectly normal party. I think he’s planning something, she says. I’m worried about my spoons. I gasp. “Madam, may I ask, are you perhaps Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?” “I am!” “Madam it is an honour! I am honoured to be in your presence!” She shakes my hand. My life is complete.

Soon enough, the actual musical begins, narrated by partying Hobbits. Now and for Always had stuck in my head just from the soundtrack on YouTube, and it’s a worthy start to the show as Mr. Bilbo tells the same old stories that he always does. Hobbits sing and dance and every one of them plays an instrument. Someone has a piccolo, someone else has a lute. Bilbo has a harmonica and an accordion. Every single Hobbit has an unspecified country accent. The Brandybucks are loud, the Proudfoots are Proudfeet and Fatty Bolger moans at me about it. R says he knows who’s playing Gollum, because he’s bald. Frodo is very sweet, but I catch Lobelia’s eye across the garden and commiserate with her at her ill fortune. Sam asks Rosie to dance, and I fall in love with them (Sam is Sri Lankan, and sounds it, and Rosie has Afro hair, and they make me very happy). Bilbo gives his speech, “magically disappears”, and 17 years pass as we all get up and troop into the theatre proper.

We’re on the side of the balcony, in a wonderful wooden interior that J guesses might have been a church at some point. We return to the action with Frodo, Sam and Rosie, greeting each other with a little two step jump that I want to do with all my friends. Frodo sends them off to the Ivy Bush, because there seems to be some kind of trade mark problem with the Green Dragon. Gandalf enters bombastically, and Frodo and Sam leave as soon as they know their task, because they know that the show is only three hours long, including an interval.

The singing begins! Walking fast, singing and playing as they go - The Road does indeed Go On, the centre stage rotates as they dance-walk around it. Merry and Pippin assail them in a projected cornfield, because they’re his cousins and they’re not letting him do anything dangerous alone. Frodo is very put upon. Merry plays the cello, hanging round his neck, Pippin has a fiddle, and Sam a guitar. Also, Pippin is a girl, not just played by one. Good for you, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She’s also terrified of trees (Merry knows a less Tree-ish route and the Old Forest is resoundingly ignored.)

(Photo Pamela Raith)

And then! Elves! Gildor and Earendil sung with a Y! All the elves are wearing lovely blue tabards. Dark is the road ahead for Frodo, and danger follows their path. That’s nice and cheery.

(Speaking of costume, Gandalf and Saruman have very nice robes. Saruman is played by the bald one R assures me will be playing Gollum. They have a fun little stand off across the rotating stage, and Saruman isn’t hiding any of his schemes - army included. Uh oh.)

In the Prancing Pony, K says she’s going to play “spot the Strider” but Strider is in fact very very bad at being inconspicuous, as the only one wearing a hoody.

Strider makes himself known, and so does Pippin, and Frodo’s brilliant distraction plan is to sing a song. He’s not at all prepared for this and walks like a puppet, but the Brandybuck and Took contingent are raring to go with the Cat and the Moon, and soon Frodo is having a lovely time dancing on tables and all. Let’s pretend that Frodo’s smile will never fade.

The Ring goes on. Mari Lwyd black riders appear. Frodo looks like he’s underwater and it’s very funny. Stabbing ensues (no time for Weathertop today). Run! Run for Rivendell! (Costuming side note: Strider has a banging undercut and goatee situation going on). Arwen enters playing a harp, singing a Song of Hope in a bunch of elvish with no subtitles. Tolkien would approve. “The weary traveller returning… home.” It’s Strider, and we learn that this is the first time he’s returned since disappearing to be a ranger. He’s grown a lot, Arwen says. Strider mumbles something about not wanting any bigger destiny than her. Then Frodo wakes up and it turns out they’ve been having this lovely romantic discussion is his hospital wing. Ah, good, says Frodo, we successfully completed our adventure! Merry is very excited at the amount of books and maps, also did you know that Arwen is a half-elf, technically, and did you see the way she looked at Aragorn, and did you know that she’s thousands of years older than him?

(Photo Pamela Raith)

The council is called, Saruman the bald is also playing Elrond the bald, and is generally an old wise man. All of the elves are obsessed with hand gestures, and their hands are never below their waists. Everyone has so many problems, but Boromir (with another very cool undercut) wastes no time telling everyone Gondor has it worst. The steward is asleep, you say? And you had a dream and followed it here? But the sword that was broken is as lost as the One Ring. (Boromir has great dramatic timing.) Frodo will take the Ring to Mordor, though he don’t know the way. Gimli will go with him, and so will Legolas and Gandalf and Strider. (The Elf and Dwarf are Iranian and Black, and it really stands out amongst the otherwise white Men - I like it a lot). Strider asks Boromir nicely and Boromir says fine, he’ll come too. The fellowship of the ring! A rousing ensemble number with Earendil with a Y! Boromir is playing the trombone and singing at the same time and it’s the best!

Saruman learns of the Fellowship from his useless gas-mask orc minions. He deals with it himself - with menacing flute music. He flutes up a storm on Caradhras, and the Fellowship must go through Moria. Gimli reverently takes a guitar, and sings them a song of his people, as the fellowship and the audience have a chance for a rest. Then drums start in the deep, a balrog is come, and Gandalf is gone. They must continue - to Lothlorien. That horn player is a different elf now, you can tell because their tabard is gold this time!

They arrive blindfolded as Legolas waxes lyrical about the elves of the golden wood, and it turns out he’s not in love with Galadriel he’s just really patriotic. Galadriel tells Frodo they will both share a great loss, and also sings a power ballad.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Everything falls apart after Lorien, as we all know. Boromir dances with the hobbits before the orcs get him - Strider appears seconds too late, and Boromir tells him he’s failed, the Fellowship and his people. Strider shows him his broken sword (he’ll show you his if you show him yours) and finally claims his birthright. Boromir begs him to save “our people” and Aragorn really can’t deal with that, especially when Boromir dies in his arms. Aragorn is the best actor in all of this and it’s mainly in degrees of how much he cannot deal with this. The three hunters reunite, honour Boromir, and finally pick themselves up for the road ahead - Aragorn can see the hobbits’ footprints…

In the interval we theorise on how they’re going to fit two whole books into a second act shorter than the first one. Are they just going to cut the entirety of Rohan? That’s the bit of the book I can never understand. The ice cream is very nice.

As the lights go up, Sam races after Frodo and berates his idiot upper-class master who thought he could do anything without him. They set out on their long journey, and from the other side of the stage, Pippin and Merry come charging in. They’ve already escaped from the orcs, as we really don’t have time for that. Pippin is confronted with her fear of trees. Entish is a very musical language which was beautiful to experience, and I think a far better rendition of trees talking than any realism could give. Musicians stood around the auditorium and plucked and strummed their discussion (Gimli was behind us drumming the plumbing).

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Saruman, meanwhile, directs a cool break dance number from the orcs. They’re going to crush Minas Tirith, and then Sauron will surely think Saruman is an ally, a massive victory for the Light.

The rest of the cliffhangers from act one get resolved in the next ten minutes. The three hunters can tell from the footprints that the hobbits are safe, so they race the breakdancing orcs to Minas Tirith. (No Rohan, I whisper to K). Aragorn demands an entrance to see the Steward (played by Bilbo, this company has one old wise man and one old father figure). The Steward is under Saruman’s spell! They call him Denethor but he’s serving Theoden’s role, with considerably less drama as it only takes Aragorn revealing himself as King to wake him up from the curse.

They agree to fight together to defeat Saruman! It’s another ensemble song and dance! Gandalf the White returns, and doesn’t come alone! The trees are marching! And Boromir’s actor is playing the trombone behind Denethor as he fights to defend their people, and that made me very emotional.

It’s Gollum time. Nearly naked bald man with full body dirt makeup scrambles around theatre and balcony, more news at 7. R seems unable to comprehend a theatre company having two bald men in it. This actor was so physical, my director brain was terrified of the risk assessments that must have been required for him to run along the balcony barrier.

Victory at the Pelennor Fields! TheoDenethor is slain, but the free peoples have won. They ride to Isengard. Saruman enters, and in a very dramatic and tense moment, I thought he greeted them with “Sup”. (Sadly it was actually “So”). Gandalf is sure that this will not be the end of Saruman’s mischief…

Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) are carrying on, but it’s hard going. They reminisce on the stories they used to listen to, and Sam gets out his guitar as they wonder what kind of story they’re in. Sam sings to Frodo, a reprise of Now and for Always from Mr. Bilbo, and his master tiredly joins in. He hasn’t smiled for days. “Tell us a story, of Frodo and the Ring”. Sam falls asleep, and it’s Frodo turn to sing about him - “no finer friend, now and for always”. Frodo doesn’t quite manage to finish the chorus before he falls asleep beside his Sam - but Gollum takes over in a horrifying corruption of their duet. It took me a while to realise it, but this Gollum’s voice reminds me of Voldemort from A Very Potter Musical - not at all a bad thing, but a specific niche of “very creepy and also pathetic”.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Aragorn is crowned, and receives the reforged sword. Together, the representatives of the free peoples plan to storm the Black Gates, in a hopeless battle - for Frodo. Smeagol/Gollum finally decides to lead them to Shelob, and Frodo trusts him. “Well,” Sam says, “let’s walk into Mordor.” Cackles from very small pockets of the audience.

Shelob is a REALLY COOL PUPPET. Sam manages to stab her with the LED Sting as he is seconds away from his doom. Galadriel empowers them with ballads from afar, but Frodo can barely walk. Sam takes the ring to try and relieve his burden, and Frodo doesn’t even notice. Gollum returns and swears he knew nothing about the giant spider, what giant spider? She wasn’t there last week!

Aragorn, in the B-plot of the musical (we realised afterwards that in the books, destroying the Ring and saving the world is the B-plot), gives a rousing speech to get everyone gearing up for a battle they’re all going to lose. Arwen (I think, or is it Galadriel, I’m writing this the day after and I’ve slightly lost the plot) calls to Aragorn and starts off the ensemble number "out of grief, joy".

Meanwhile, tension is rising in the Frodo-Sam-Gollum-Smeagol polycule. Everything will change, when they destroy the ring. “The elves, Sam, they’ll disappear - all of the magic will be gone out of the world. But if I take the ring!” No one can resist the ring. Gollum and Frodo speak and move as one as they condemn Sam as a traitor and a thief. At some point in all of this Frodo gets the Ring back, Sam runs away, Gollum attacks Frodo, Sam protects him, and Frodo wakes up enough to cast Gollum out instead. I’m very tired and can’t remember when this all happens, but it was all very emotional.

The free peoples fight, and they all dance and stand so differently you can tell which peoples they all are even without the height differences. Legolas shoots from on high, Gimli is rooted to the ground with wheeling axes, Aragorn just stabs so many orcs. Merry has his cello and uses the bow to attack, and Pippin has her accordion. We love Pippin. She’s here for moral support.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Sam and Frodo reach the top of Mount Doom and wrench open the backdrop doors. Sam can’t take another step and collapses behind Frodo as he tries once more to take it for himself - before Gollum appears. Gollum’s fall was beautiful and slow - he’s caught by black clad actors on a darkened stage and they gently let him down into the fire. And then it’s done.

The ensemble sings as Gandalf the White comes to save the two hobbits, and they reunite with their friends as Aragorn bows to the Shirefolk (and holds Frodo’s head so close that he re-awakened my inner Frodo/Aragorn shipper). Gandalf inexplicably says he’s off to have a chat with Tom Bombadil, who we had been ignoring, but that he’ll see Frodo again.

The hobbits return to the Shire, and Lobelia tells us Saruman has been there. We all have to work together to restore the Shire, including the audience - up you get, get outside and get LARPing again. We help the hobbits restore the battered garden to its former glory, and Rosie and Sam are married! Frodo never can return to the cheer he had at the beginning of this adventure. The actor had literally added eye bag makeup, I winced in sympathy when I saw him. Gandalf and the many elves of Middle Earth reach the Shire. They are going into the West. Frodo gives Sam the book in which to write their story. The hobbits do a very sad little dance jump greeting and Frodo hugs Sam tight, before he goes on his way towards the sails of the Grey Havens.

(Photo Watermill Theatre)

Rapturous applause! Everybody’s back on stage for a rousing final Cat and the Moon! Don’t worry about Frodo’s depression, we’ve got to sing a musical number for us all to go home to! My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell on my way through the park.

5 stars.

#lotr #lotr musical #lord of the rings #lord of the rings musical #watermill theatre #lotr fanart #tolkien #tolkien fanart

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istumpysk · 2 years ago

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The Kingbreaker (Barristan III) [Chapter 67]

Welcome to this week's episode of How to Not Catch a Killer.

A pale shadow and a dark, the two conspirators came together in the quiet of the armory on the Great Pyramid's second level, amongst racks of spears, sheaves of quarrels, and walls hung with trophies from forgotten battles.

"Tonight," said Skahaz mo Kandaq. The brass face of a blood bat peered out from beneath the hood of his patchwork cloak. "All my men will be in place. The word is Groleo."

Goodness, this guy totally passes the vibe check. Not a radar ping in sight.

A blood bat now. What does that mean?

+.+.+

"Groleo." That is fitting, I suppose. "Yes. What was done to him … you were at court?"

"One guardsman amongst forty. All waiting for the empty tabard on the throne to speak the command so we might cut down Bloodbeard and the rest. Do you think the Yunkai'i would ever have dared present Daenerys with the head of her hostage?"

Is that the 18th time we've been reminded that masked Shavepate could have been present when the attempted poisoning happened?

+.+.+

No, thought Selmy. "Hizdahr seemed distraught."

"Sham. His own kin of Loraq were returned unharmed. You saw. The Yunkai'i played us a mummer's farce, with noble Hizdahr as chief mummer. The issue was never Yurkhaz zo Yunzak. The other slavers would gladly have trampled that old fool themselves. This was to give Hizdahr a pretext to kill the dragons."

Ser Barristan chewed on that. "Would he dare?"

"He dared to kill his queen. Why not her pets? If we do not act, Hizdahr will hesitate for a time, to give proof of his reluctance and allow the Wise Masters the chance to rid him of the Stormcrow and the bloodrider. Then he will act. They want the dragons dead before the Volantene fleet arrives."

Chief mummer according to the guy who wears theatre masks.

Wait for it.

+.+.+

His queen was the Mother of Dragons; he would not allow her children to come to harm.

Can you please read these words and acknowledge how silly they are.

+.+.+

"No." The two of them had argued this before. "There is a peace, signed and sealed by Her Grace the queen. We will not be the first to break it. Once we have taken Hizdahr, we will form a council to rule in his place and demand that the Yunkai'i return our hostages and withdraw their armies. Should they refuse, then and only then will we inform them that the peace is broken, and go forth to give them battle. Your way is dishonorable."

You know what is honourable? Staging a coup because an untrustworthy masked weasel told you to.

Arresting Hizdahr is breaking the peace deal, genius.

+.+.+

"We discussed this. You agreed it would be my way."

"I agreed," the Shavepate grumbled, "but that was before Groleo. The head. The slavers have no honor."

"We do," said Ser Barristan.

The Shavepate muttered something in Ghiscari, then said, "As you wish. Though we will rue your old man's honor before this game is done, I think. What of Hizdahr's guards?"

"Your way is stupid," the Shavepate said. "The hour is ripe. Our freedmen are ready. Hungry."

The Shavepate is going to suggest some pretty outrageous ideas throughout this chapter, and grumble every time he's forced to concede.

<- Tyrion XII

Tyrion plucked at his scar and wondered if he ought to make a show of indignation. When you bugger a man you expect a squeal or two. He could curse and swear and rant of robbery, refuse to sign for a time, then give in reluctantly, protesting all the while. But he was sick of mummery, so instead he grimaced, signed, and handed the scroll back to Brown Ben.

Except he's not actually conceding anything. The Shavepate is getting everything he wants: Hizdahr removed from power, and war with Yunkai / the Sons of the Harpy.

+.+.+

Selmy did not fear Khrazz, much less Steelskin. They were only pit fighters. Hizdahr's fearsome collection of former fighting slaves made indifferent guards at best. Speed and strength and ferocity they had, and some skill at arms as well, but blood games were poor training for protecting kings. In the pits their foes were announced with horns and drums, and after the battle was done and won the victors could have their wounds bound up and quaff some milk of the poppy for the pain, knowing that the threat was past and they were free to drink and feast and whore until the next fight. But the battle was never truly done for a knight of the Kingsguard. Threats came from everywhere and nowhere, at any time of day or night. No trumpets announced the foe: vassals, servants, friends, brothers, sons, even wives, any of them might have knives concealed beneath their cloaks and murder hidden in their hearts. For every hour of fighting, a Kingsguard knight spent ten thousand hours watching, waiting, standing silent in the shadows. King Hizdahr's pit fighters were already growing bored and restive with their new duties, and bored men were lax, slow to react.

I'm sorry, how many kings and princes have died on your watch?

All I want in life is for Arya Stark to humble this man.

+.+.+

"Have no fear. We will have Marghaz in chains before he can make mischief. I told you, the Brazen Beasts are mine."

Hear that reader? We have to keep repeating it.

The Brazen Beasts are his.

At the base of the Great Pyramid, Ser Barristan awaited them beside an ornate open palanquin, surrounded by Brazen Beasts. Ser Grandfather, Dany thought. Despite his age, he looked tall and handsome in the armor that she'd given him. "I would be happier if you had Unsullied guards about you today, Your Grace," the old knight said, as Hizdahr went to greet his cousin. - Daenerys IX, ADWD

+.+.+

"You say you have men amongst the Yunkishmen?"

"Sneaks and spies. Reznak has more."

Reznak cannot be trusted. He smells too sweet and feels too foul. "Someone needs to free our hostages. Unless we get our people back, the Yunkai'i will use them against us."

Really? He smells too sweet?

#JusticeForReznak

+.+.+

"Would you miss them so much, old man? A eunuch, a savage, and a sell sword?"

Hero, Jhogo, and Daario. "Jhogo is the queen's bloodrider, blood of her blood. They came out of the Red Waste together. Hero is Grey Worm's second-in-command. And Daario …" She loves Daario. He had seen it in her eyes when she looked at him, heard it in her voice when she spoke of him. "… Daario is vain and rash, but he is dear to Her Grace. He must be rescued, before his Stormcrows decide to take matters into their own hands. It can be done. I once brought the queen's father safely out of Duskendale, where he was being held captive by a rebel lord, but …"

"… you could never hope to pass unnoticed amongst the Yunkai'i. Every man of them knows your face by now."

I could hide my face, like you, thought Selmy, but he knew the Shavepate was right. Duskendale had been a lifetime ago. He was too old for such heroics.

Now feels like a good time to remind you of all the evidence pointing to Arya freeing Jon in King's Landing.

etc. etc.

Sorry, I'll accumulate it all some other time.

+.+.+

"Would you miss them so much, old man? A eunuch, a savage, and a sell sword?"

[...]

"Daario might piss on us if we were burning. Elsewise do not look to him for help. Let the Stormcrows choose another captain, one who knows his place. If the queen does not return, the world will be one sellsword short. Who will grieve?"

"And when she does return?"

"She will weep and tear her hair and curse the Yunkai'i. Not us. No blood on our hands. You can comfort her. Tell her some tale of the old days, she likes those. Poor Daario, her brave captain … she will never forget him, no … but better for all of us if he is dead, yes? Better for Daenerys too."

How strange, it seems like the Shavepate is eager to get rid of the Dothraki savage, and sellsword lover.

If we do not act, Hizdahr will hesitate for a time, to give proof of his reluctance and allow the Wise Masters the chance to rid him of the Stormcrow and the bloodrider.

Is Barristan picking up on this? Of course not.

+.+.+

Better for Daenerys, and for Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen loved her captain, but that was the girl in her, not the queen. Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, and thousands died for it. Daemon Blackfyre loved the first Daenerys, and rose in rebellion when denied her. Bittersteel and Bloodraven both loved Shiera Seastar, and the Seven Kingdoms bled. The Prince of Dragonflies loved Jenny of Oldstones so much he cast aside a crown, and Westeros paid the bride price in corpses. All three of the sons of the fifth Aegon had wed for love, in defiance of their father's wishes. And because that unlikely monarch had himself followed his heart when he chose his queen, he allowed his sons to have their way, making bitter enemies where he might have had fast friends. Treason and turmoil followed, as night follows day, ending at Summerhall in sorcery, fire, and grief.

Her love for Daario is poison. A slower poison than the locusts, but in the end as deadly.

Blah blah blah biased Targaryen history.

+.+.+

"We have hostages as well," Skahaz Shavepate reminded him. "If the slavers kill one of ours, we kill one of theirs."

"Hostages," insisted Skahaz mo Kandaq. "Grazdar and Qezza are the blood of the Green Grace. Mezzara is of Merreq, Kezmya is Pahl, Azzak Ghazeen. Bhakaz is Loraq, Hizdahr's own kin. All are sons and daughters of the pyramids. Zhak, Quazzar, Uhlez, Hazkar, Dhazak, Yherizan, all children of Great Masters."

"Innocent girls and sweet-faced boys." Ser Barristan had come to know them all during the time they served the queen, Grazhar with his dreams of glory, shy Mezzara, lazy Miklaz, vain, pretty Kezmya, Qezza with her big soft eyes and angel's voice, Dhazzar the dancer, and the rest. "Children."

"Children of the Harpy. Only blood can pay for blood."

"So said the Yunkishman who brought us Groleo's head."

"He was not wrong."

"I will not permit it."

"What use are hostages if they may not be touched?"

Wow, now we're contemplating killing children. Any red flags, Barry? No? No one home?

I will not be giving Barristan Selmy an ounce of credit for not killing child hostages. Please.

+.+.+

"Prince Rhaegar had two children," Ser Barristan told him. "Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King's Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king." And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin's gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar's children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. "I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I'll have no part of this."

Hey, remember the time Barristan Selmy mildly disagreed with Robert Baratheon killing 14-year-old Daenerys and her unborn child, then sat quietly like an obedient dog while Ned Stark abandoned his position as Hand of the King?

+.+.+

The Shavepate took an axe down off the wall, inspected it, and grunted. "So be it. No harm to Hizdahr or our hostages. Will that content you, Ser Grandfather?"

Poor thing has to settle for only a coup. Life's unfair.

+.+.+

Though the bat's brass mouth did not move, Ser Barristan could sense the grin beneath the mask. "Long has Kandaq waited for this night."

That is what I fear. If King Hizdahr was innocent, what they did this day would be treason. But how could he be innocent? Selmy had heard him urging Daenerys to taste the poisoned locusts, shouting at his men to slay the dragon. If we do not act, Hizdahr will kill the dragons and open the gates to the queen's enemies. We have no choice in this. Yet no matter how he turned and twisted this, the old knight could find no honor in it.

I am begging you to use your brain instead of a sword one time.

+.+.+

Elsewhere, he knew, King Hizdahr was consulting with Reznak mo Reznak, Marghaz zo Loraq, Galazza Galare, and his other Meereenese advisors, deciding how best to respond to Yunkai's demands … but Barristan Selmy was no longer a part of such councils.

Here's an idea, why don't you wait and see what their plan is?

+.+.+

As the afternoon melted into evening, he bid his charges to lay down their swords and shields and gather round. He spoke to them about what it meant to be a knight. "It is chivalry that makes a true knight, not a sword," he said. "Without honor, a knight is no more than a common killer. It is better to die with honor than to live without it." The boys looked at him strangely, he thought, but one day they would understand.

"As for Lord Rickard, the steel of his breastplate turned cherry-red before the end, and his gold melted off his spurs and dripped down into the fire. I stood at the foot of the Iron Throne in my white armor and white cloak, filling my head with thoughts of Cersei. After, Gerold Hightower himself took me aside and said to me, 'You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.' That was the White Bull, loyal to the end and a better man than me, all agree." - Catelyn VII, ACOK

+.+.+

Afterward, back at the apex of the pyramid, Ser Barristan found Missandei amongst piles of scrolls and books, reading.

Whatcha reading there, sweet Missandei?

+.+.+

The memory was still bitter. Old Lord Whent had announced the tourney shortly after a visit from his brother, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him, that Whent's tourney was but a ploy to give Rhaegar a pretext for meeting with as many great lords as could be brought together.

There could be plenty of reasons why Varys was sowing fear. Your guess is as good as mine.

+.+.+

Rhaegar had chosen Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Barristan Selmy would have made a different choice. Not the queen, who was not present. Nor Elia of Dorne, though she was good and gentle; had she been chosen, much war and woe might have been avoided. His choice would have been a young maiden not long at court, one of Elia's companions … though compared to Ashara Dayne, the Dornish princess was a kitchen drab.

Shut the fuck up.

A young maiden. Barristan would have been roughly 45 at the time. Gross.

+.+.+

Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes. Daenerys has the same eyes. Sometimes when the queen looked at him, he felt as if he were looking at Ashara's daughter …

I'll admit this is curious.

Barristan has no romantic feelings for Daenerys, yet still projects his long-lost love for Ashara onto Daenerys. He claims they have similar eyes, and that he often feels as if he's looking at Ashara's daughter. Daenerys is not Ashara Dayne's daughter.

Impossible to not be thinking about Rhaegar, Jon Connington, and Aegon here.

+.+.+

But Ashara's daughter had been stillborn, and his fair lady had thrown herself from a tower soon after, mad with grief for the child she had lost, and perhaps for the man who had dishonored her at Harrenhal as well. She died never knowing that Ser Barristan had loved her. How could she? He was a knight of the Kingsguard, sworn to celibacy. No good could have come from telling her his feelings. No good came from silence either. If I had unhorsed Rhaegar and crowned Ashara queen of love and beauty, might she have looked to me instead of Stark?

The vagueness of 'Stark' is hard to ignore.

The crannogman saw a maid with laughing purple eyes dance with a white sword, a red snake, and the lord of griffins, and lastly with the quiet wolf . . . but only after the wild wolf spoke to her on behalf of a brother too shy to leave his bench. - Bran II, ASOS

Who is more likely to grab a young maiden's attention: Brandon Stark or Ned Stark?

+.+.+

Rain, he thought. A storm is coming. If not tonight, upon the morrow.

Buddy, you have no idea.

+.+.+

The faces of all the kings that he had served and failed floated before him in the darkness, and the faces of the brothers who had served beside him in the Kingsguard as well. He wondered how many of them would have done what he was about to do. Some, surely. But not all. Some would not have hesitated to strike down the Shavepate as a traitor.

Thanks, but I already knew there were better Kingsguard.

+.+.+

Twelve levels down he found the Shavepate waiting, his coarse features still hidden by the mask he had worn that morning, the blood bat. Six Brazen Beasts were with him. All were masked as insects, identical to one another.

Locusts, Selmy realized. "Groleo," he said.

"Groleo," one of the locusts replied.

"I have more locusts if you need them," said Skahaz.

This is the biggest fucking idiot in the entire story. Don't even try to tell me Victarion is dumber than this. You're wrong.

+.+.+

When Selmy reached those floors, he found the doors to the interior of the pyramid chained shut, with a pair of Brazen Beasts posted as guards. Beneath the hoods of their patchwork cloaks, one was a rat, the other a bull.

"Groleo," Ser Barristan said.

"Groleo," the bull returned.

Gosh, Hot Pie in King's Landing, and now Arya and Gendry in Meereen? They sure get around.

+.+.+

The archway leading to the royal bedchamber was guarded by a pair of sandalwood lovers, shaped and smoothed and oiled. Ser Barristan found them distasteful, though no doubt they were meant to be arousing. The sooner we are gone from this place, the better.

Is he talking about Meereen?

The man can sit through any atrocity being committed by a Targaryen, but finds art distasteful. He really is a boomer.

+.+.+

The robe was green satin, richly worked with pearls and silver thread. Under it the king was quite naked. That was good. Naked men felt vulnerable and were less inclined to acts of suicidal heroism.

The woman Ser Barristan glimpsed peering through the archway from behind a gauzy curtain was naked as well, her breasts and hips only partially concealed by the blowing silk.

I will condemn him for the bed slave, but I will not vilify the man for having sex with another woman. Not when Daario Naharis exists.

+.+.+

"Ser Barristan." Hizdahr yawned again. "What hour is it? Is there news of my sweet queen?"

"None, Your Grace."

Hizdahr sighed. "'Your Magnificence,' please. Though at his hour, 'Your Sleepiness' would be more apt."

[...]

"I dreamed you found Daenerys."

"Dreams can lie, Your Grace."

"'Your Radiance' would serve. What brings you to me at this hour, ser? Some trouble in the city?"

+.+.+

"To ask a question. Magnificence, are you the Harpy?"

Hizdahr's wine cup slipped through his fingers, bounced off the carpet, rolled. "You come to my bedchamber in the black of night and ask me that? Are you mad?" It was only then that the king seemed to notice that Ser Barristan was wearing his plate and mail. "What … why … how dare you …"

"Was the poison your work, Magnificence?"

King Hizdahr backed away a step. "The locusts? That … that was the Dornishman. Quentyn, the so-called prince. Ask Reznak if you doubt me."

Watch as Barristan Selmy conveniently forgets he mistakenly reached the same conclusion.

The thought hit him like a slap across the face. Quentyn had grown up amongst the courts of Dorne. Plots and poisons were no strangers to him. Nor was Prince Lewyn his only uncle. He is kin to the Red Viper. Daenerys had taken another for her consort, but if Hizdahr died, she would be free to wed again. Could the Shavepate have been wrong? Who can say that the locusts were meant for Daenerys? It was the king's own box. What if he was meant to be the victim all along? Hizdahr's death would have smashed the fragile peace. The Sons of the Harpy would have resumed their murders, the Yunkishmen their war. Daenerys might have had no better choice than Quentyn and his marriage pact. - The Discarded Knight, ADWD

+.+.+

"Have you proof of that? Has Reznak?"

DO YOU HAVE PROOF IT WAS HIZDAHR?

+.+.+

They're all poisoners, these Dornish. Reznak says they worship snakes."

"They eat snakes," said Ser Barristan.

So does Myrcella!

+.+.+

"I … hot spices do not agree with me. She was my wife. My queen. Why would I want to poison her?"

Was, he says. He believes her dead. "Only you can answer that, Magnificence. It might be that you wished to put another woman in her place."

You know what I do when I want to replace my dragon queen? Have two elaborate dragon thrones made.

King Hizdahr had replaced the bench with two imposing thrones of gilded wood, their tall backs carved into the shape of dragons. - The Discadrd Knight, ADWD

If crowning a bed slave is the best reasoning he can come up with, maybe it's time to take a step back.

This chapter alone should be evidence enough of how vulnerable Hizdahr is without Daenerys.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan nodded at the girl peering timidly from the bedchamber. "That one, perhaps?"

The king looked around wildly. "Her? She's nothing. A bedslave." He raised his hands. "I misspoke. Not a slave. A free woman. Trained in pleasure. Even a king has needs, she … she is none of your concern, ser. I would never harm Daenerys. Never."

A bed slave! Inexcusable.

Dany stepped away from her. "No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke . . . you're no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You . . ." - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

"Hot and sweet and poisoned. With mine own ears I heard you commanding the men in the pit to kill Drogon. Shouting at them."

Hizdahr licked his lips. "The beast devoured Barsena's flesh. Dragons prey on men. It was killing, burning …"

"… burning men who meant harm to your queen. Harpy's Sons, as like as not. Your friends."

Burning men who meant to harm the queen? What is he talking about? Drogon killed men working in the fighting pits, and spectators.

The licking lips thing continues to be bizarre.

"Oh, gods," moaned Reznak, "he's eating her!" The seneschal covered his mouth. Strong Belwas was retching noisily. A queer look passed across Hizdahr zo Loraq's long, pale face—part fear, part lust, part rapture. He licked his lips. - Daenerys IX, ADWD

+.+.+

"Not my friends."

"You say that, yet when you told them to stop killing they obeyed. Why would they do that if you were not one of them?"

Could just as easily be their puppet.

+.+.+

"Tell me true," Ser Barristan said, "did you ever love her, even a little? Or was it just the crown you lusted for?"

Excuse you? Does she love him?

She loves Daario. He had seen it in her eyes when she looked at him, heard it in her voice when she spoke of him.

This is ridiculous. It's a marriage of convenience, what are we doing here?

+.+.+

"Lust? You dare speak to me of lust?" The king's mouth twisted in anger. "I lusted for the crown, aye … but not half so much as she lusted for her sellsword. Perhaps it was her precious captain who tried to poison her, for putting him aside. And if I had eaten of his locusts too, well, so much the better."

Second time the possibility Hizdahr was the target is brought up.

+.+.+

"If you are not the Harpy, give me his name." Ser Barristan pulled his sword from the scabbard. Its sharp edge caught the light from the brazier, became a line of orange fire.

Azor Adumbass.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan heard a door open, somewhere to his left. He turned in time to see Khrazz emerge from behind a tapestry. He moved slowly, still groggy from sleep, but his weapon of choice was in his hand: a Dothraki arakh, long and curved. A slasher's sword, made to deliver deep, slicing cuts from horseback. A murderous blade against half-naked foes, in the pit or on the battlefield. But here at close quarters, the arakh's length would tell against it, and Barristan Selmy was clad in plate and mail.

[...]

The man was no knight, but his courage had earned him that much courtesy. Khrazz did not know how to fight a man in armor. Ser Barristan could see it in his eyes: doubt, confusion, the beginnings of fear. The pit fighter came on again, screaming this time, as if sound could slay his foe where steel could not. The arakh slashed low, high, low again.

Selmy blocked the cuts at his head and let his armor stop the rest, whilst his own blade opened the pit fighter's cheek from ear to mouth, then traced a raw red gash across his chest.

I've learned three things about the Dothraki.

The Dothraki struggle with men in armor.

Qotho danced backward, arakh whirling around his head in a shining blur, flickering out like lightning as the knight came on in a rush. Ser Jorah parried as best he could, but the slashes came so fast that it seemed to Dany that Qotho had four arakhs and as many arms. She heard the crunch of sword on mail, saw sparks fly as the long curved blade glanced off a gauntlet.

[...]

It was enough. Ser Jorah brought his longsword down with all the strength left him, through flesh and muscle and bone, and Qotho's forearm dangled loose, flopping on a thin cord of skin and sinew. The knight's next cut was at the Dothraki's ear, so savage that Qotho's face seemed almost to explode. - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

The Dothraki require a fool to meet them in an open field.

He nodded. "Mind you, Princess, if the lords of the Seven Kingdoms have the wit the gods gave a goose, it will never come to that. The riders have no taste for siegecraft. I doubt they could take even the weakest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, but if Robert Baratheon were fool enough to give them battle …" - Daenerys IV, AGOT

The Dothraki and all their horses would instantly die in the north (see every Stannis Baratheon chapter).

+.+.+

"Spare me," he begged. "I do not want to die."

"Few do. Yet all men die, regardless." Ser Barristan sheathed his sword and pulled Hizdahr to his feet. "Come. I will escort you to a cell." By now, the Brazen Beasts should have disarmed Steelskin. "You will be kept a prisoner until the queen returns. If nothing can be proved against you, you will not come to harm. You have my word as a knight." He took the king's arm and led him from the bedchamber, feeling strangely light-headed, almost drunk. I was a Kingsguard. What am I now?

A donkey.

I'm sure the Wise Masters and Sons of the Harpy will sit tight while he overthrows their king, and waits for Daenerys to return.

+.+.+

The boy addressed the king as if Ser Barristan were not there, as if there were no dead man sprawled upon the carpet, his life's blood slowly staining the silk red. Skahaz was supposed to take Reznak into custody until we could be certain of his loyalty. Had something gone awry? "Come where?" Ser Barristan asked the boy. "Where does the seneschal want His Grace to go?"

"Outside." Miklaz seemed to see him for the first time. "Outside, ser. To the t-terrace. To see."

"To see what?"

"D-d-dragons. The dragons have been loosed, ser."

Seven save us all, the old knight thought.

What do you mean? They're her children!

Way to go, Quentyn. The dragons escaping while her peace deal goes up in flames feels a little symbolic.

Skahaz was supposed to take Reznak into custody until we could be certain of his loyalty.

Unbelievable.

Final thoughts:

I've decided the best way for him to die is to fall down a flight of stairs immediately after Daenerys is murdered by a child right in front of him.

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#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #the kingbreaker #barristan iii

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