Lords and Ladies

Terry Pratchett, Stephen Briggs

• Editore: Methuen Drama
• Anno: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781350244832
• Edizione: 1
• Argomento: Literatur
• Categoria: Britisches Drama

It's Midsummer Night – no time for dreaming. Because sometimes, when there's more than one reality at play, too much dreaming can make the walls between them come tumbling down. Unfortunately there's usually a damned good reason for there being walls between them in the first place – to keep things out. Things who want to make mischief and play havoc with the natural order. Granny Weatherwax and her tiny coven of witches are up against real elves. And they're spectacularly nasty creatures. Even in a world of dwarves, wizards, trolls, Morris dancers – and the odd orang-utan – this is going to cause trouble… Adapted by Terry Pratchett's long-time collaborator Stephen Briggs, this play text version of Pratchett's bestselling Discworld novel Lords and Ladies wittily and faithfully reimagines the story for the stage.

Act One

Scene One

The Narrator enters and sits. He/she opens the book they have carried in.

Narrator In Wyrd Sisters, Granny Esmerelda Weatherwax became the unofficial head of a tiny coven consisting of the easy-going, much-married Nanny Gytha Ogg and young Magrat Garlick, she of the tendency to be soppy about raindrops and roses and whiskers on kittens.

It’s fifteen years since we staged Wyrd Sisters.

And what took place was a plot not unadjacent to a play about a Scottish king, which ended with Verence II becoming king of the little hilly, forested country of Lancre.

It also ended with Magrat reaching a very tentative ‘Understanding’ with Verence . . . very tentative indeed, since both of them were so shy that whenever either of them did manage to say anything the other one misunderstood it and took offence, and both of them spent a lot of time wondering what the other one was thinking. This might be love, or the next best thing.

So, where do we start?

Let’s start at a point about fifty years before the ever-moving now, to a hillside and a young woman, running. Running just fast enough to keep ahead of a young man although, of course, not so far ahead that he’ll give up. Her path takes her to the stone circle known as the Dancers.

It’s always quiet around the stones.

A bleak moorland. Mist swirls. Standing stones. A teenage girl – a younger Granny Weatherwax – walks towards the circle of stones. She stands for a moment.

Young Esme I’m here. Show me.

Magical noise/tune. The Elf Queen appears in the circle.

Young Esme So you’re real, then.

Elf Queen Of course. What is your name, girl?

Young Esme Esmerelda.

Elf Queen And what do you want?

Young Esme I don’t want anything.

Elf Queen Everyone wants something. Otherwise, why are you here?

Young Esme I just wanted to find out if you was real.

Elf Queen And now that you have learned this, what is it that you really want?

Young Esme Nothing.

Pause.

Why can’t you come out from between the stones?

Elf Queen (ignoring this) There must be something that you really want.

Young Esme You can’t come out of the circle, can you? I can go anywhere, but you’re stuck in the circle.

Elf Queen Can you go anywhere?

Young Esme When I am a witch I shall be able to go anywhere.

Elf Queen But you’ll never be a witch. They say you won’t listen. They say you can’t keep your temper. They say you have no discipline.

Young Esme (snapping) Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they? But I mean to be a witch whatever they say. You don’t have to listen to a lot of daft old ladies who’ve never had a life. (Confidently.) And, circle lady, I shall be the best witch there has ever been.

Elf Queen With my help, I believe you may. You could be a great witch. You could be anything. Anything you want. Come into the circle. Let me show you.

The girl takes a few steps forward, and then hesitates.

Step through the stones now!

The girl hesitates again.

Circle time is nearly over! Think of what you can learn! Now!

Young Esme But –

Elf Queen Step through!

Blackout. Time passes.

Narrator But that was a long time ago, in the past. And besides, the bitch is . . . older.

Lights up. A number of Elves are now in the circle.

Elf Queen And this time, there will be no defeat. The land will welcome us. It must hate humans now.

Lankin But there were witches. I remember the witches.

Elf Queen Once, yes. But now . . . poor things, poor things. Scarce any power in them at all. And suggestible. Pliant minds. I have crept about, my deary. I have crept about o’nights. I know the witches they have now. Leave the witches to me.

Lankin I remember the witches. Minds like . . . like metal. Like . . . iron.

The Elves shudder at the thought of this metal.

Elf Queen Not anymore. I tell you, leave them to me. And then you can have them. For me, I rather fancy a mortal husband. A special mortal. A union of the worlds. To show them that this time we mean to stay.

Lankin The Elf King will not like that.

Elf Queen And when has that ever mattered?

Lankin Never, lady.

The Elves all laugh mockingly

Elf Queen The time is right, Lankin. The circles are opening. Crop circles; all over the kingdom. They won’t be able to resist the pull of the circle. And they have forgotten about the power iron has over us. Soon we can return.

Lankin And then we can torment them again. (The other Elves laugh in malicious glee.) When? When?

Elf Queen Soon. Soon.

Blackout. Spot on Narrator.

Narrator It is a few weeks to midsummer. Three dots appear in the sky. The three witches – Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick – pass over the borders of Lancre. They have been away for over three months.

But now they’re back.

And everything’s all right again.

For about five minutes.

Blackout.

Scene Two

Lancre...