3. The making of Amadan's Fool-

The making of Amadan's Fool-

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    Character Name: Amadan's Fool

    Narfell Account Name: Peasant_Revolt

    Gamespy (you want that?): Peasant Revolt

    I snapped awake, jerking forward in the darkness and immediately fell back, for I was held, manacled to what felt through my shredded jerkin like cold smooth stone. I had been asleep- not in Reverie but unconscious, away from the world.

    With the falling back, flooded back memory and pain. The pain is everywhere, but principally about my head, which feels clamped in a vice that grows tighter with each breath and thought.

    Mostly I remembered that it was important to remember. Remembered who I was. I recited to myself what seemed a familiar litany:

    “I am Dylaíne Uí Telassir. I am of the Teru'Tel”Quessir, the Moon Elves.

    I cannot recount to myself my parentage- that has been taken from me already: it is no longer mine to know.

    I give my loyalty to Erevan Ilesere, the Trickster, the Green Changeling. This I do, despite the fact that to me now He seems to be playing tricks with me above all.

    In service to the Trickster I have learnt to go quietly across the land, to take what is needed and to leave behind something that will at least make the loser smile as well as curse.

    I have lived away from my kind for some time. My memories of a life amongst the Tel”Quessir are dim- but I know them to be real, I see great woods and a dancing people, fine wines and beautiful maidens…. but I cannot name them, or remember when I pursue one face that seems to stand out more than the others in the marsh that has become my mind.

    I am.... I am....”

    My recital is interrupted by his return. I see the glowing red before I understand again what it is. Then he is upon me, pressing me back. I see his beautiful face and hear the voice that cannot belong to it, but which issues from those full lips:

    “SILENCE FOOL”

    I realise that my recital was not sub-vocalised as I had thought. In my desperation to cling to these fragments of mind, I had been shouting aloud.

    He looks down at me, and begins a few words of the by now familiar incantation, then he stops. His face twists, and for a moment I see what he really is. He begins again, but not the incantation this time:

    “Fool. It is nearly done. This is the last time you will hear your name Dylaíne Uí Telassir. I will take it from you tonight. Together with the fragments that you have tried so hard to retain of your pathetic life. When I am done, you will remember nothing of your former life. It will cause you pain to try to remember and soon you will not try.

    This punishment I give to you. It is because you came into my house and attempted to steal that which is precious to me. You thought me weak. Your companions thought me weak, and they have died. You I have kept. I have something worse than death for you Elven child.

    I will make you my Fool. For you have been foolish. You will know no other name but that of Fool to Lord Amadan III.

    You will remain here for a time. You will entertain my guests. And they, seeing you, will know my greatness. They will know, I can have an elf of such a family, such provenance, as my Fool. You will tumble in the dirt beneath the table to amuse them. You will make witty insults to those I wish to insult, but on whom I need not waste my own breath. You will be a figure of fun for the Ladies that come to my court.

    Perhaps, after some years, I will grow tired of you. Then for a time, I will put you out. I will leave you to roam around somewhere in the wilds. You will not remember your previous life. You will know that I may call you again and you will come to me willingly: still my Fool.”

    With that, he seemed to be satisfied. The incantation began again. It seemed to me that this time there were more voices than just Lord Amadan's.

    Suddenly he reached towards my face. I felt an agonizing pain, and a deep sense of emptiness. Then blackness returned.

    ...................
    I snapped awake, jerking forward in the darkness and immediately fell back, for I was held, manacled to what I knew through my tight fitting robes was cold smooth stone. I had been asleep- not in Reverie but unconscious, away from the world.

    With the falling back, flooded pain. The pain is everywhere, but principally about my head, which feels clamped in a vice that slowly seems to dissipate and unwind.

    Memory comes too: “I am Fool to Lord Amadan III, tonight there is to be a revel.” That is all I know.

    After some years, Lord Amadan III has grown bored of his Fool. He is left to roam in Faerun, all he knows is the latter part of the above tale, the service he has performed as House Fool to Lord Amadan and that he still worships the Green Changeling.

    He knows little of the world into which he has now been sent by his Lord.


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