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Weather:            Clear
Time:                Late Morning <about 10 AM >
Season:              Summer
Date:               Highday - June 29, 3015

Real Time:          Wed Sep 23 20:32:04 1998
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Though the sun has been up, rising for many hours yet, it is not quite to its apex in the bright blue sky above. Late morning it is yet, and there are not so many about the lists as there will be in some while for the day's activities. One small figure darts about on the pounded dirt of the lists, eyes kept closely upon the ground. He will occasionally pick something up and stow it away in a hidden pocket.

It's late morning, and the lists are beginning to get crowded with would-be combatents for the single combat. A large section of the grounds to the side of the spectator's seats is set aside for practicing and sparring. A man clad in black currently directs a squad of various men from both Rohan and from all walks of gondor. He graciously swings his sword, motioning the others to mimic the movements. To a lesser degree the others perform the lesson. Barking his orders like a drill sergeant, Malahir steps to a certain Rohirrim that looked awkward in his stance, "Your stance is all wrong..here", and he kicks his legs further apart.

A snicker escapes from the small figure as his light blue eyes turn in the direction of Malahir's instruction, an almost mean sound, mocking as it is. With a loud sniff, he goes about his buisness. Small light shines off those things he picks up, and occasionally he will toss one over his shoulder and into a nearby bush where.. there will be no landing clunk?

Another black-clad Guardsman stands nearby, watching the Lieutenant give his lesson with an amused face. Yet he makes no move whatsoever to assist or interfere.

Ildamir sits on a barrel and speaks with a young page in white clothes, though dirty and torn. The page polishes a pair of buits, that according to the weapon on the pages breast, probably belongs to crown prince Elphir himself.

Satisfied with the young Rider's progress, he gathers the men together and with a deep voice proclaims, "Hirlan of Rohan, you have shown great improvement today. I hope you all take something from these leasons, in as much as he has. The second round of single combat is close at hand, and this round will not be as easy as the first. Thank you for participating and good luck to everyone". The guard is visibly fatigued and looks over to the taller guard nearby and hangs his head, "Commander, where do you get the energy to do this? I thank you though for the experience of taking over your lessons".

Ildamir says something to the page who looks up and grins widely and Ildamir nods with a smile on his face and stands up. He begins walking towards the men training and stops to watch with his hands to his sides.

The smallish figure discontinues his rounds. Yawning widely, almost dramatically, in Malahir's general direction, he turns around and begins whispering to the bush behind him... Which giggles loudly at his words before cutting off suddenly with a sharp breath.

The Commander gives a low nod, calm, though a smile more than plays at his lips. "You are younger than I, Lieutenant. I might ask where I could get some of your energy. Yet, so close to the Enemy, we must be prepared always. 'Tis the way of the Rammas Echor." Catching a glimpse of a man waslking towards them, he raises a dark brow, falling into silence.

Malahir turns toward the man that approaches and nods, "Good morn sir. Could we help you with something?", but his eyes are distracted by the movement he espies behind Ildamir. He squints his eyes to block out the early morning light and frowns at the sight he sees.

Ildamir smiles a broad, warm and sincere smile, his green eyes glistening with energy but he is relaxed as few are when dressed in armor. With noble stature he turns to the two black clad officers and gives a slight bow, "Well..." he hesitates and looks at the practicing men once again then back to the liutenant and the commander. "...As it is a stated fact that my sire, the crown prince of Dol Amroth, is quite occupied with other duties concerning certain prisoners of the Haradrim breed..." he hesitates again and a small ironic smile is visible in his face, "Perhaps thou couldst assist me in my training, maybe spare a couple of these men?" he asks very humbly, his voice clear and soft in the same time.

As Malahir's eyes turn towards him, the lad leaning against a fence speaks once more to the shrubbery behind him... Strange as it appears, the foliage gives a loud laugh at the lad's words, in a rather girlish tone. Once more the boy casts an almost mocking look at the Lieutenant.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Commander Ingold nods his agreement with Malahir's question, though does not repeat it. A soft smile plays over his face, reaching well into his mist-grey eyes, as he speaks. "I see no reason why not... Perhaps I could give you a few pointers, though I believe the good Lieutenant may have other matters to take care of?" He says this with a nod towards the lad at the fence.

Ildamir gives a appreciating bow and smiles even wider, "Then I must say it will be an honour to me to be instructed by thee, such a famed commander as thyself!" he states and sound as if he actually meant it.

Malahir double takes a glance at the mocking young fellow by the bush and then sets his eyes on the polite young man in front of him, "I'm terribly sorry, you must think me rude. Good sir, may I present to you Commander Ingold of Rammas Echor. My services seem to be needed elsewhere thought, please excuse me", and he looks back to Ingold, "Sir", apoligizing to both with a look from his placid brown eyes before he swiftly walks over to the gaminesque figure that taunts him from a distance.

Ildamir nods and smiles with an understanding, "Thou arth excused indeed good Liutenant!" he says as the man turns away.

Even as the Lieutenant turns and begins walking in his direction, the lad does not shrink back the slightest. Instead, his mocking smile grows, and he whispers to the bush once more, getting another laugh in return.

"Quite excused, Lieutenant. Give the boy a good strapping, and remind him of my oath, if you will." This the Commander says calmly, not allowing his humorous smile to interfere with the seriousness of his words. Turning back to Ildamir, he looks the man over, "Tell me, good sir, that you do have a blade?"

Ildamir expresses a theatrical face of someone beeing most insulted, obviously not serious with it, "My good man!" he says in played chock, "Hath though ever met a squire of a noble house of Gondor that has no blade?" He then relaxes again and smiles as he pats the hilt of his trusted longsword, "Though need not to worry commander. This sword, that I received as present from my father the day I became thirteen, will do just fine in combat as in training... As long as one is carefull ofcourse!" he adds with a sadistic smile on his lips.

Malahir approaches the young man in a strict, upright manner, anxious and looking from left to right, but remaining quite calm in his tempo. Like a principal crossing the playground after a trouble making child, he walks directly to Dric and points a finger at him, "What manner of beast are you Dric? Do you have no respect for property and do not deny that you have scourged this field with your stealing hands".

Ingold merely glances at the sword, still taking in the man who owns it. "Squire of a noble house, is it? I took that position once. Needless to say, 'twas not fit for me, nor I for it. Come, draw thy blade, and allow me see you hold it."

The young lad meets Malahir's upright gaze with a defensive look of his own. "Would ye deny a man 'is food, 'Tenant? 'F people drop their coppers, I 'ave much right as any t' scour th' field for 'em. Boy's got t' eat, ye know." The bush simply giggles at him.

Ildamir nods and takes a step back. He first removes the shield from his back and straps it to his left arm then he draws the longsword in an elegant manner. He seems well trained in balancing and handling the sword so that it looks very nice and elegantly, but even he should know that all such fanciness has no use in combat.

Ingold smiles at the young man's fancy handling of the sword, though he folds his arms over his chest and looks almost disaproving at the eyes. "Sheath it again, Squire. Draw it as you would on the battlefield. Leave flair to those who know full well what they are doing."

Malahir simply glares at the boy, and is about to scold him further when he hears the bush below..giggle! Squinting his eyes he fathoms the familiarity of the giggle and draws his sword. "Dric, one day you will learn your lesson well, only you may not have any friends there to protect you", and he makes like he is going for Dric with his sword, when he averts his sword to the bush and pulls make a piece of foliage to reveal the hidden and mischevious Arya. Shaking his head sadly, the tall guard remains silent and sullen.

Ildamir nods and a slight blush emits on his cheeks. "Yes... Ofcourse!" he says with a slightly embarrased smile. He Sheats the sword quite effectively and then draws it determindedly so that it bears firmly in a combat position. It is far from perfect but at least better than the last.

Dric puffs out his chest as the sword comes towards his heart, not flinching a bit, eyes coldly intent upon Malahir the whole time. He does not speak for a few moments, though flickers the lass a comforting look, "Have ye words t' gi' me, 'Tenant? Or did'j ye come only t' glare at us?"

Giving the squire a nearly approving nod, Ingold walks around the young man a few paces, examining his stance and hold on the sword. "Relax your wrist, son. Let the blade be a part of your own arm. And your feet.. just a small bit closer together? You look ready to lose your balance." His words are almost gruff, but 'tis to be expected, a Commander lecturing on swordplay.

Malahir looks strait at his daughter to be and with a pained look, chokes on his very words. Stepping back, he resheaths his sword and calls for her to come out, "Please Arya, come out, there may be snakes in that bush", looking at Dric to emphasize his pun.

Ildamir nods calmly and tries to correct himself in the way he is instructed. All the time an amused smile plays on his lips as he does his best to impress on the commander.

Arya takes a step out of the bush, giving Dric a conspiratorial giggle before curtsying to Malahir. "G'mornin' sir." she says, ignoring his intentional phrasing. Dric only leans back easily on the fence, smoothly putting an arm about the smaller girl's shoulders. "Ye had nothin' t' say, then, 'Tenant?"

Malahir moves forward and takes Arya by the hand, scowling at Dric, "You take your filthy hand off her. Show me a bit of respect, I deserve at least a share of what little you can show Dric. You are nothing like your brother, and such a pity that is", urging the young lady to follow, Malahir doesn't pull, but says, "Arya my dear, there are far better company you can find than this guttersnipe".

After Ildamir has corrected his stance, the Commander looks him over once more, reaching out and physically moving the squire's arms up a bit so his blade is at less of an angle to his wrists, "Not terribly bad, I suppose. They do things differently here than in the City of Guard. Swing for me," He neglects to draw his own blade, but motions to his side, "about here, if you would."

Stretching his arms in a long shrug, Dric removes his arm from around Arya's shoulders. The girl's face falls slightly, though she casts the lad an amused smile to which he replies by raising a single light brow. "I pride m'self on bein' other than m' brother. You of all people'd know 't, 'Tenant." Straightening up, he gives a stiff bow. "But since ye're so great now, 'Tenant, I s'pose I kin give ye a wee bit o' r'spect. Ye've a lovely daughter, ye know."

Ildamir nods and puts his head slightly to one side, his gaze firmly attached to the commander's eyes and weighting and trying the balance for a couple of seconds. Then he moves one foot to lower his stance and move his body slightly forward whilst his arm sends his blade in an arch towards the commanders side. The wrists wait until through half the motion before it tense and gives the blade some extra swing and force. The attack is swift but quite standard and nothing tricky.

With an amazing bit of dexterity for one of his akwardness, Ingold dodges the swing quite easily. "A little more power into it, young sir, and perhaps you could put a dent into an orc's arm. Not terribly bad, 'tis a good move there, adding the extra swing, but be careful with that. 'Tis a move that could snap them both if you haven't the experience and judgement to go with it. Understand, Squire?"

Malahir isn't remiss in his fatherly love for Arya, for his face grows long when he notices the signs she has fallen for him. Bringing her closer to him he answers Dric, remaining renitent, "Aye, and I will see that she remains that way by keeping her from the likes of you. I shall have a word or two with your brother. By the Valar Dric you have turned into a miserable lot", showing his obvious disgust by turning away from the flamboyant gamin.

Ildamir nods with an understanding smile, "Yes sir. This, though, is how I have been tought to do by my father. It is hard to change. I rather find the ability to have that judgement to use it correctly instead of learning the wrong methods to begin with!" he exclaims calmly while trying a few swings in the air.

The lad laughs out loud, shaking his head, "And what'll m' brother do 'bout 't, 'Tenant? 'E's allus been too bust for th' likes o' me. Ye know 't well, sah, ye do." A hint of venom sneaks into his voice. "And what o' yer girl there, eh? Goin' t' marry 'er off t' some nobleman? Some pompous man equal t' yerself? Might be a wee bit 'arder than ye think, 'Tenant. I've done m' work.. Bein' m'self, I got sources. I know who 'er father was." He breaks off there, leaving it at that and looking as unruffled as possible."

Ingold gives an understanding nod, "Judgement is all well and good, Squire, and 'tis better by far than learning wrong. I do suppose your father knows his way about a blade, but I would not see you with snapped wrists. Judgement being as it is, caution is better when dealing with a blade."

His back remaining turned to the lad while he carries on, Malahir then begins to lose his temper, releasing Arya's hand and walking strait up to bump chests with a boy he once would have given his life for..."Dric, you are an ungrateful cur! There was a time I would have done anything for you, but you've ruined it for good now. If you think of me as pompous, so be it. But don't come to me for anything anymore. You will never get my daughters hand, you hear me. She will marry whoever else she pleases", pointing a finger and poking Dric, "you will not see her again,I forbid it", turning around he mutters, "and you'll get no bride money from me, I'm not interested in your lies", refering to the information Dric lead onto.

Ildamir nods silently and makes a few swings in the air, "Thou arth right ofcourse." he exclaims, "But in real combat I am more to strength than finesse, mostly because I have not yet learned to master the finesse. I try to psyke my opponent, which also won me a victory in the single combat." he says without any trace of bragging in his voice. He looks up at the commander again and smiles widely, "That is why I am now here training with thee, so that I may learn even more ways to defeat my opponents... and in more gracious ways!" he exclaims and then makes a real fancy show off series in the air with his longsword, something he obviously has trained alot for.

The lad's mocking look falters somewhat... His mask disapears, and honest confusion brings his brows together. "What'd I do t' ye, sah? Ye've been threatenin' t' turn me in t' m'brother... I swore t' ye once that I'd do anythin' for ye if ye never let ol' Din get t' me. Now yer tryin' to do what ye said ye wouldn'. I like th' girl, sure. Got spark, she does. Bright lass. But me? Ungrateful? Sah, there was a time when I'd've jumped 'front o' an arrow for ye... But since ye came down 'ere, ye've jus' been bitin' m' 'ead off." He finishes that with something of a snarl, dissapointment and discouragement shining brightly in his eyes.

Ingold fainltly rolls his eyes at the young man's showing off, though an almost fatherly smile touches his lips. "Then you have much to learn, son. As for now, however, I have not the time... I did promise to meet with a few old friends from my younger days while I am in the area." With that, he gives a hint of a bow, very slight. Turning on a heel, he begins to stride off to the south east.

Ildamir only bows his thanks and says nothing, but an appreciating smile show in his allways smiling face.

Malahir stops dead in his tracks and places his hand on Arya's shoulder lightly. From her vantage point she could see the pain that strikes the gentle man's face, but he quickly places a mask of fatherly concern back on and looks down at Arya, "It's time to go Arry, you've played the morning away and just because you ran away from the tutors, that doesn't mean I can't tutor you myself", he walks away from Dric, not taking a look back at him, perhaps for fear he may see the weakness in his eyes.

The lad heaves a heavy sigh, mumbling about stubborn guardsmen, though somewhat fondly... yet he doesn't allow it to show too much in his actions, only returning to scouring the ground for extra coppers.