TTT: Finfin’s Conflicting Promises

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 6 -- The Waterworks]

> The bard loftily ignored the jibe, but also didn’t rule out that might
> happen. “But, seriously, Laquendi’s equally quick thinking, bravery,
> and combat spells, along with everyone’s trust that I could follow
> through and actually HAD a good idea was what made it all work,”
> Tramma told them quietly. “Thanks for the trust. We are much stronger
> as a team I’ve noticed. And that shot YOU made to blow up that trog
> underpriest’s scroll was pretty amazing, Legs.”
>
> “Aww, lucky shot, really,” Lomi demurred.
>
> “Well, for now let us go on,” Tramma suggested. “When we get outta
> this mucky place, I intend to gush enthusiastically about how great we
> all are.”
>
> “Other than the whole throwing caution to the wind thing,” Jeyshann
> smirked. “It worked out, but let’s not be quite so gung ho from now
> on.”

On the way back towards the main corridor after looting the Temple of
the Troglodytes, Finfin was looking rather pensive. He was not known for
being an overly contemplative elf, but those who knew him well could see
that something was on his mind. Laurelin had a fair guess, and gave him
a sympathetic smile, having some notion of what was disturbing the
warrior. More than an echo of which was bothering her, as well. But this
was something that the priestess felt that her former lover had to work
out on his own.

Not everyone in the group, however, was as “hands off” in their
approach. “Fin, sweetie?” Tramma’s voice wafted through her Speak With
Allies spell. “It’s just you and me on the channel. Penny for them?”

Finfin blinked, and silently sent back, “For my thoughts? I am not
certain that they are worth that much.”

“You might be surprised,” Tramma replied. “If you would like to talk
about it, whatever the ‘it’ may be, I would be happy to be a sympathetic
ear.”

Finfin started to nod, and then caught himself, the gesture being a
useless way to communicate over a silent voice channel. “Thank you,” he
answered, and after another moment of consideration added, “I would like
to take you up on that, if I might. Particularly as my concern includes
you.”

“Now that is ominous!” Tramma quipped. “I’d really like to hear what is
going on in that lovely head of yours, now more than ever.”

Again, Finfin had to suppress the reflex to nod. “It is rather basic,”
he began. “I find that I am caught between two different promises that I
have made that ought NOT to be in conflict… but now are. And I am unable
to satisfy both.”

“That DOES sound serious,” Tramma agreed. “And the crux of many a
classic Tragedy. Please tell me more?”

“You have heard both sides of it,” Finfin observed. “You heard me
yesterday saying that I needed to give Hizzoner The Abbot a freer hand
to actually demonstrate his own ability to lead.”

“I remember,” Tramma agreed.

The elf found himself smiling slightly as he continued, “And I am MOST
certain that you remember that very convincing case dear Mithi made this
morning that I ought to pay particular attention looking out for you?
Well, you and Lomi both, though Lomi wasn’t there at the time.”

Finfin could hear Tramma’s voice chuckling in his ear. What he could not
see was the bard’s hand straying downwards just for a moment to lightly
brush herself just below the midriff. “For us to look after each other,”
she gently corrected over their private communication line.

“Well, yes,” the elf agreed. “And that is the promise that I have not
been keeping.”

“Are you sure?” Tramma queried. “Lomi and I are both fine.”

“You are,” Finfin agreed. “But not from any credit from me.”

“How do you mean?”

Finfin nodded towards the now thawing pair of troglodyte corpsickles
flash frozen by Laquendi’s first Coldball. “Not only did we fail to even
look for the crossroads guard post that any shavetail ensign ought to
have predicted was there, we knew full well that the entire Temple
Complex was alerted to our presence before we ever took our first step
down this Temple passage.”

He shrugged, not at all certain how to verbally convey the equivalent of
the gesture, and continued, “Now, a direct, full force frontal attack
actually CAN sometimes be the best approach. Particularly in a case like
this one, where the physical access rather constrains any other
approach. But once they were alerted to us, that was our time to be MORE
cautious, rather than less. We could still have prosecuted a strong
frontal approach, but even a mere thirty seconds of spellcasting would
have increased our survivability and potency considerably.”

“But we didn’t,” Tramma suggested.

“We did not,” Finfin confirmed. “And for that, I hold myself directly
responsible.”

“Even though you yourself say that it is the Abbot in command?”

“Even so,” Finfin agreed. “It is the job of a good officer to TELL his
superior if he is making a hash of it, and face the music afterwards.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I did not,” Finfin agreed. “I instead decided that it would be best to
let the Abbot make his play, and back it as best as I could, never
straying more than a few feet from his shoulder, doing my best to make
his Shock Tactic frontal charge work as best as I could.”

“Fin, sweetie,” Tramma gently objected, “you DID stop him from
committing that classic mistake of splitting the party, sending either
our most vulnerable out on their own behind us, or a Heavy Hitter that
we would probably need up at the Temple.”

“I… did, at that,” Finfin agreed. “But that was all. And I ought to have
done more, and in particular offer an alternative to a magically
unprepared berserkergang headlong charge into an enemy that was
expecting us.”

“Because you wanted to give the Abbot his chance to lead.”

“Mostly, yes. But also…” Once again, Finfin wished that he could convey
something as simple as a sigh through this wondrous spell. “The
adventuring group that both Laurelin and I operated with for many years
was… fractious, at best. And I was not without my own share of the
blame. But it often seemed that we were far more ready and willing to
fight each other than any common enemy. Since then, I have endeavoured
to find a different way to conduct myself. And aided by dear Mithi, and
now some of our particularly good friends, I hope I have been able to
make a little progress in this regard.”

“We gals are always glad to help!”

“For which I am eternally grateful,” Finfin replied. “But there is the
problem.”

“You find that you cannot stick with your promise to let the Abbot
lead,” Tramma summarized, “and still do as your promise – and your heart
yearns – and do well by us.”

“Exactly,” Finfin agreed. “We got lucky that it was only a Flame Strike
that hit us in the killing ground outside of the Temple, and had it not
been for your foresight working that illusion with Laquendi, there is an
excellent chance that ONE or more of us would be a corpse right now.”

“A few flecks of dust,” Tramma gently corrected. “I asked the Abbot.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” Finfin sent back rather weakly.

“So you’re in the horns of a dilemma, Fin sweetie,” Tramma sympathized.
“Classic Tragic Hero stuff. And I wish I could advise you on what to do,
but as the ballads and sagas show, this has to be YOUR path to navigate.”

“Oh, I have already made up my mind what to do,” Finfin explained
easily. “It may be that I am not good underling material, but I have no
desire to slavishly follow the Abbot’s lead. He is, after all, not in MY
chain of command, and I am not one of his Belmakian Minions. But
conversely, I am NOT willing to compromise on a promise I made to my
lady love.”

“And you will do… exactly what?” Tramma gently asked.

“Trade places,” the elf answered simply. “The Abbot wishes to lead, and
there, he and I are in concurrence. So I will trade places with him,
letting him lead from the front as he seems to wish to do. In the
meantime, I will be holding our tail position, where I can both protect
us from a rear attack, and fulfil my promise to Mithi and keep my eye on
both Lomi and you. While still being in a position to be able to defend
the other ladies as well, should it be needed.”

“I… hope he takes the suggestion well, sweetie,” Tramma sighed.

Finfin resolved that he would have to ask Tramma to demonstrate HOW to
sigh over this communication channel. But for now, all he could answer
was, “As do I, my friend. As do I.”