Analdin sits quietly near the back of the pavillion, his bright eyes moving constantly about the tent, though stopping every now and again to examine one particular spot. His chair is leaned back, one arm resting on his lap, the other dangling akwardly beside him.

Malahir opens the tent of the pavillion that has been his home for the time at the Tournament. He steps in tentatively, holding his head and opening his eyes wider to adjust to the lighting. As his vision adjusts, he moves his head about, looking into the corners and stations inside the pavillion.

Analdin says not a word as Malahir enters, though his eyes alight upon the younger (if only slightly) fellow. Watching his aide's movements, he remains quietly sitting in the back of the pavillion, the corner that has served as his station throughout the tourny.

Aiesha steps into the pavillion, her eyes and facial expression a sad one. Her head is down, and she notices not the two soldiers within.

Malahir, unable to adjust from the sunlight's effects on his night vision inside the pavillion, stubs his toe on the table leg of his own station. Jumping around on one foot, he holds the other and rubs his sore toe. A few choice words a mumbled. Just then, he aspies his superior officer in the back station and all he could do is freeze in his current ludicris pose.

An amused smile lights on Analdin's face as he watches Malahir jumping about. Shaking his head slowly, he calls out, eyes twinkling softly, "Malahir... shouldn't such phrases be restricted to the barracks?" His face returns to seriousness, and he adds, "Come here a moment, won't you?"

Aiesha gasps slightly as she suddenly hears the two soldiers, and she looks up briefly. her eyes are slightly red, as if she'd been crying. She stammers, "My apologies..I meant not to disturb you both.." As she turns to move out of the pavilion, a rosy blush can be seen on her face.

Malahir's head lowers humbly and his mammoth shoulders slump. Though only his senior by a few years, Lt. Analdin is his greatest role model and only morale support in his current family position. The respect he has for him has hardly been shown. But the fear in his eyes and the look of remorse is apparant as he steps into the light of his superior's station. He stands in his ball outfit, just a tad ruined and scuffed. The rose crushed to his chest. His cheek is stained with blood, and his left eye black and blue/

Hearing the familiar, sweat voice of the healess, Malahir closes his eyes, and holds still.

Analdin looks Malahir over, thye sparkle in his eyes completly disapeared. With an unconcerned wave to Aiesha, he gives her a cheer-less smile and a "No worries" before turning back to Malahir before him. Leaning his chair forward, allowing it to land on all four legs, he looks deeply into the other's eyes. "What happened last night, Malahir?" he asks, his voice quiet, without a single hint of reproach... or so it seems.

His eyes stay closed for an instant even after Analdin questions him. He speaks hoarsely, "I'm so sorry sir. Oh", and he opens his eyes to reveal them wet and red, "I made a fool of myself, and more importantly. You"

Aiesha cannot help but glance at Malahir in this state, and she turns to look at him, concern written on her face, normally so merry. Her body is angled towards the fairgrounds, showing where it is she wishes to go, but she cannot move, her curiousity and concern holding her in place.

Analdin shakes his head slowly, making an effort to stand up. After a few moments, he is on his feet, looking down the few inches he has on Malahir at the man, "You got drunk out of your wits last night, made a fool of yourself in front of the Prince, Lord Boromir, and the nobility of Pelargir. I do hope you feel ashamed of yourself..." trailing off, he lays a hand on Malahir's stooped shoulder, "And I am certain you do, so I have no plan to add to that punishment. Tell me, my friend. What's wrong?"

Malahir looks down to the skinnier lad that has been his one and only officer, "I am sorry. And I regret ever coming here sir.", he gradually turns to look upon aiesha, "And please except my humble apoligies, my dear friend."

Aiesha looks at Malahir, a smile on her lips. "No apologies needed, my friend..but tell me, surely the ball was not so wonderful you needed to toast everyone there?" She chuckles, her eyes still slightly red.

Analdin shakes his head once more, casting Aiesha a narrow-eyed :glance, then stares into Malahir's eyes, his own sparkling blues narrowing and darkening a bit. "I want your attention, Malahir," he says, his voice lowering, perhaps a bit angrily. "Ever since we arrived at Pelarigir, you've been acting peculiar. I want to know why, and I want to know now." He speaks slowly, distinguishing every word.

Smiles half heartedly at Aiesha, a glimmer of a tear at the corner of his eye. But the chastazing from Analdin brings him back at attention, looking strait at his Lt. "Sir. I am a guard first and foremost. But I am also a man. With dreams, and feelings and desires, and fears. None of them came true here. Not a single one.", he pauses, but not long enough to let anyone get a word in edge wise, "and you don't know the half of it Lt. What you've seen out there, all my failings, isn't even the half of my porblems"

His gaze softening, Analdin takes a step back, his own face holding the signs of over-fatigue. However, he maintains a straight face, and nods once, "Malahir..." he says, his voice quiet to get the man's attention. "Every one has their dreams, their desires, their wishes and hopes. Or so my father has told me. And everyone would wish for those to come true." With a quick shake of his head, the lieutenant continues, "And everyone has their own failings. But everyone also has a time when his problems leak out, Guard or no. Perhaps, if you feel it would help, I could grant you some leave."

Aiesha looks at Analdin, noticing the glance he had flicked at her earlier, and flicks her own back at him, slightly peeved. She tosses her head in his direction, her face indignant. Yet she does not move from the pavilion, intrigued by the beginnings of Malhir's tale.

Malahir shrugs, "I dunno sir. I'm not sure that will help. This Tournament was a time away from the stress of duty. Sir, there's something I must show you." And he reaches to unpin his silver brooch, letting his cloak hand losely on his back.

Analdin ignores Aiesha, though gives her a calm look, though inside the calmness is a promise of trouble. Returning his full attention to Malahir, he raises an eyebrow, gaze following the other man's hands to the brooch, interest filling his eyes. "This tournement has been overly stressful for those it was supposed to be a relief for, Malahir. Vacation can be worse than duty at times..."

Malahir nods while he passes the inch sized brooch, shaped into the form of a listing full sailed ship, as if it was racing for gold and glory. "You see sir, this brooch was givin to me by my mother." He looks over to Aiesha, offering her to come for a closer with a nod of the head. "She gave this to me when I was young, about fifteen, and going to noble tutors and told me never to let my father see it"

Analdin nods slowly looking the ship brooch over a few times, "She's a beauty of a ship, whoever 'twas as made her." A critical aspect appears in his eye, as a horseman examining a fine steed. Looking back up to Malahir, he raises an eyebrow, "Why did she not allow you to show it to your father, Malahir? Who made it?"

Aiesha can't help but be curious, and moves closer to get better look at the brooch. She grins at her own thoughts as she gazes at it admiringly.

Malahir raises a brow and reaches out for the brooch, "May I sir?"

Malahir leans over with his the station, bringing the brooch up toward the oil lamp light. He flips the ship over gingerly, revealing an etching of a raised hand. "He nods, "that there is an emblem foreign to our lands, and the writing there" and he point underneath, "what does that look like to you. Can you read it sir"

Analdin's forhead scruntches, as if in thought, as he concentrates on the symbol and words.. "I have seen that symbol, I think. A long time ago..." trailing off, he shakes his head, and takes a step back, "Though I would have no clue what it means."

Malahir looks up at the young officer curiously, "So you have seen this symbol before? Funny, becuase I beleive I know where. I could never be certain though." He points back at the writing, "I can't read the entire message, but there..it says 'Donlostir'. That sounds like a name, does it not?"

Aiesha brings herself out of her own musings, and openly blurts, "But why shouldn't you be allowed to show it to your father?" With that, she shuts her mouth with an audible click, and blushes very deeply.

Analdin nods once more, his eyes ever straying to the brooch, as though it pulls at his memory. "Aye, it does sound like a name... a name vaugly familier, for that matter." Shaking his head, eyes almost shut, he adds, "Though all I can attach to it is a sword."

Malahir looks back at Aiesha'a musings and nods knowingly, "Aye, why did she say that indeed", resting his gaze back on Analdin, "A blade you say?"

Analdin glances back up, eyes shining brightly, "Aye, a blade. A broken, or perhaps 'twas dulled, blade. And the hilt... the hilt had that symbol" he points to the hand on the back of the brooch, "on it. I was but a lad, and as my father often repaired the blades of passers-through, I paid it only little attention. 'Twas how I learned to forge a blade, though." He smiles, as though the memories it brings back are quite cheerful.

Aiesha looks curiously at Analdin, seeming to ignore the glances that he had given her previously.

Malahir gazes into the blue orbs of his commander's glinting eyes, almost reluctantly pulling him out of his pleasant reverie, "I know for a fact that your village is on the rohirrian border", hoping not to stir up memories of the man's long last brother, "Would any of those passer by's be Rohirrian in nature. Possibly visiting Gondor perchance?"

Analdin smiles gently, "Many of them were Rohirrim, visiting Gondor. We are not that strict with our northern friends, and they often passed through." Shrugging, he adds, "'Tis actually rather interesting that I remember any one above the rest... but that symbol, well, caught in my memory as the first sword I ever helped reforge."

Malahir crosses his arms, listening intently at his friend's story, searched heard for any clues as to who this Dorlostir might be. What the connection is to the symbol being on the blade and on his mother's brooch. He looks stumped though. However, confusion flies from his face as he recollects something of his own, "I've seen brooches worn like these before. They were a horse I beleive. And something else, I can't remember. I seen them a couple of days ago, at the archery contest and bardic contest too. Worn by the lady Kerowyn and Lord Kylier"

Analdin's eyes widen, sparkling as bright as water under a noonday sun, "By the Valar!" he swears under his breath, "You have a point there, Malahir! I believe I saw something not all to different when dancing last night with the Lady Kerowyn..." Yet, in his excitement, he suddenly draws a sharp breath, and his hand flies to his shoulder. "Speaking of the Lady... perhaps I needs seek out her assistance all too soon."

Malahir is suddenly refrained from the excitment his other detective shows on his face. He scoffs lightly, "Sir, this only complicates my life further and doesn't make fessing up to the emberassment of these last few days, and especially last night any easier"

Analdin, hand still holding his shoulder hard, shakes his head, "I'm sure of that, Malahir," he says between clenched teeth, "I doubt anything much could make last night easier, on the either of us, I'm afraid. Both Lady Kerowyn and Lord Kylier are going to have my head if I see eithher of them anytime soon, but I fear I must find the healess soon or I shall be in no condition for the melee planned."

Malahir places his hand lightly on the shoulder on the wounded combantant. "Yes sir, I bid you farewell, and thank your, "he looks into his eyes sincerely

Analdin nods once more, eyes shining brightly through the obvious pain on his face, "Not at all, Malahir." he turns to leave the pavillion, but suddenly turns back for a moment. "And, Malahir? I'd like you to come to me when you are in problems such as these, hopefully before you turn to drink on them. Besides, I hate ordering anyone to a friendy conversation."

Malahir smiles at the departing friend, giving him a reassuring smile before he turns, the smile being replaced by a look of concern

Analdin shakes his head once more, and makes his way to the door of the pavillion, walking unsteadily out into the fresh air.