The infirmary is silent, save for the sounds of sheets rustling and patients turning over as the healers come to attend their wounds. The occupant of one bed, it not standing out from any of the others, moves a bit more than anyone else in the room as he twists and turns in the throes of a nightmarish sleep. His tossing, however, is hindered somehow by something beneath the sheets, near his chest.

Sanos stepps silently into the infermary from the outside encampment. He walks in slowly, making sure not to disturb the slumbering, and he scans the room patiently, looking at each and everyone there. He thens stops on a familare face, and walks slowly over to Analdin to preceive his condition.

Analdin's eyes are shut tight, and. as he moves every so often, more often than most, on his bed, a flash of pain appears on his face. Somehow, through all his tossing, he remains on his back, only his bare shoulders and head showing from beneath the sheet, as well as his bare feet and the bottom hem of his trousers. At the sound of the room being entered, he turns once more, letting out a quiet goran of pain as he does so.

Sanos walks slowly, closer to Analdin's bed, wincing at the pain he wittnesses. He notices the uneasyness of his Lt. and stops right to the side of the bed. He seats himself in an avaliabe wooden chair nearbye, as he does it silently. He seats himself slowly, looking hard at Analdin and thinking with a concerned look. With a final nod of agreement to himself, he taps Analdin's shoulder lightly, almost withdrwaing his hand to think again.

At the tap on his shoulder, the young officer stirs a bit, his eyes opening until small, dark blue slits show through barely opened eyelids. Seeing Sanos beside his bed, Analdin stiffens a bit beneath the sheets, though a quick flash of pain runs over his features as he does so. Casting a glare at the guardsman, his mouth forming into the beginings of a frown, he looks up.

Sanos slowly salutes, not knowing much better, as he slowly puts his hand down. "Oh Sir, I am sorry for disturbing you, but I have not been told of your condition recently. I came to see how you were doing, and to apologize for the quarrels we had early before the fight. Again, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I just wanted to see how you were." With a long sigh, he puts his head in his hands, and says slowly, "Well, how are you feeling Sir?"

Analdin nods quietly at the salute, watching Sanos babble on and give his schpeel. With a light sigh, yet an obviously painful one, he looks up again at Sanos, "How am I feeling?" he snaps, irritation shining bright in his eyes as they open wider, showing almost black orbs, very mush darker than his normal bright blue. "How do you think I feel, with a troll having smashed a dent in my side, and the healers not allowing me to get up at all?" He spits out a muttered curse, anger apparent.

Sanos sighs and lowers his head more. "I am quite sorry Sir, I was quite unaware of your pain." He then turns and looks towards the door, "Would you like me to leave you Sir, I was only going to speak with you if you were willing and able." He keeps his stare towards the door, and lets another sigh out at the sight of the wounded.

Analdin shakes his head, glaring about the room and past Sanos to the door. "Stop appoligizing, soldier," he says, his tone having softened a bit - albeit a very small bit. "Is there something as needs reporting?" the lieutenant makes an attemt to sit up, but bites off another curse as something about his chest hinders him from doing so. Dropping back onto the bed, he adds, "Or has the whole of Osgiliath burned while I have been cooped up here?"

Sanos turns back to Analdin, with an emotionless face, "No Sir, Osgiliath has not burned, but it is me who is. I am troubled about my fighting, and seek advice. I know this is a bad moment to come to you, but I felt I must. My physical fighting abilities are fine with me at this point, but my mental aspect on combat is jumbled. This is why I seeked you Sir. I feel you could tell me of how to prepare and use my mind wisley in battle. I feel I am quite smart, and can learn easily, but advice is what I seek." He ends with a deep breath, and a quiet sigh, as other wounded men, lay about asking aid, or shivering in the chill air about the infermary.

Analdin remains silent a good few minutes after Sanos speaks, only looking into the other's eyes and making no move to answer. A cool breeze winds its way through the infirmary, and the lieutenant, bare to the waist, shivers quickly before regaining his composed, yet angry, appearance. "You wish," he begins, speaking every word slowly and distinctly, somehow managing to keep his voice straight and without anger, "to consult me about your fighting? About preparing your mind for battle?"

Sanos nods slowly, and looks Analdin in his pain splashed, blue eyes. "Yes Sir, I do. I feel I am driven to seek advice on my mental aspect on combat, and I was driven to you. I know this is a very bad time Sir, and would like to help you instead, but if you feel you can speak, I would like to talk to you." He trails off hard in thought, as he shivers slightly at the chill in the room.

Analdin shakes his head slowly, "I can speak quite well, thank you, Sanos," he says, voice quiet, almost calm, yet deadly. "Yet about that, well, I think you hit on it, this is by far a very," he stresses the word, "bad time." Relaxing, finally dropping his struggle to sit up, the officer looks once more to Sanos, "The healers refuse to allow me out of bed, and have, so far, revoked every one of the company who have come to speak to me of battle-concerned matters... and other such guardly subjects." Shrugging one last time, he cuts off his speech, just as a healess walks past.

Sanos slowly moves his hand over Analdin's chest, "Please don't move Sir. You should be fine laying where you are." He then listens to Analdin speak of the healers being very srtict to visiting as he replies, "I told them it was urgent, but, as you can see it's not. I will leave now Sir, I now realize how bad a time this is." With a final nod, he comes to stand but a healer walks by him, eyeing him with a steady glare. For the moment Sanos still has his seat.

Analdin once again shakes his head, glaring hard at the healer as she walks by, returning the glare. "You can stay if you wish, Sanos. I just don't think I make for very good company at the moment." Muttering something to himself, he adds, "If you catch me another time, without the troll dent in my ribs and when the healers allow me move again, I would gladly discuss the subject with you."

Sanos nods and looks Analdin in the eyes once more, as the healer passes, "That will be more than fine Sir. I see your troubles, and if you don't mind, I would like to just sit here and think a while, until the healers throw me out of course." He then lowers his head and puts his hand up to meet it. "Thank you for your time Sir, and when the healers give you leave, please just remember we talked." He trails off with a soft tone, and a subtle sigh.

Elidran steps quietly into the infirmary, glancing around at the various patients. He smiles, spotting Sanos and Analdin, and steps closer, saluting Analdin, "Sir..."

Sanos looks up slowly to see his comrade in the past fight with the troll and smiles.

Analdin gives a sharp nod, though a hint of pain flashes over his features as he does so, and movement beneath the linen shows him movinf a hand to his side and holding it there. "I will remember, Sanos. Find me when they allow me out of this place, and we shall speak again." He falls into silence, watching the door and Elidran's approach. Nodding, and wincing, at the salute, he growls, his impatient mood seeming to have returned, "What do you need, Elidran?"

Elidran shakes his head at Analdin's impatient mood, his manner subdued and quiet, "Nothing sir. I merely came to see how you are feeling?"

Healers bustle by back and forth, eyeing the guardsmen suspicously.

Sanos looks up and leaves his seat. He then turns to Elidran, "If you please Sir, Analdin is quite not in the mood to converse, but if you must, you shall. I am leaving now, and would like to speak to you when your done." With that, Sanos leaves saluting to Analdin and steping out of the infermary.

Analdin glares at the healers as they pass, the look in his eyes challenging them to do anything. Looking back to Elidran, however, he nods sternly, managing to keep the look of pain from crossing his face, "I do well enough." Giving Sanos a last nod as he departs, the lieutenant falls silent, looking up at the guardsman Elidran.

Elidran grins down at Analdin, unable to help a cheery expression, "I'm sure you'll be back on your feet in no time, sir!" He offers, enthusiastically.

Analdin gives Elidran a glare to match the one he had trained on the healers, "If I hear another word about being out of here soon while I am still in here..." trailing off, he leaves the threat hanging, and shakes his head slowly.

Elidran pales somewhat, and looks apologetic, "I am very sorry sir, I realize you don't like being in here..." He trails off, realizing nothing he says will help.

Analdin lets out a hard breath, making a scoffing sound in the process. "Don't like being here is an understatement, Elidran. Have they ever kept you cooped up in a healers' tent or infirmary, not trusting you enough to heal outside of the place?" Shaking his head, he adds a bit more quietly, "'Tis no fun, I can assure you."

Elidran shakes his head, "Nay sir, I have never been badly injured. But I can see from those who are in here that it's not much fun." He adds, respectfully, "But the healers are only doing their duty."

Analdin rolls his eyes, muttering something before talking louder, "Duty? Bah. All they do is keep me from preforming mine." Making an attempt at sitting up, though coming to a very unsucessful result, he allows a dark look to alight his face, "I care not what duty they are doing, but only know that if I am not allowed to get back to my work soon..." he trails off, shaking his ehad once more.

Elidran hides a smile behind his hand, unable to help finding his lieutenant's grumbling somewhat amusing.

Analdin glares once more at Elidran, "What do you find so amusing, soldier?" he snaps, resigning himself to having to lie in bed.

Elidran forces the amusement from his expression, "ERr! Nothign sir! Nothing!" he can't help a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

Edmond wakes up suddenly and stretches, letting out a loud yawn. He looks down at his bandaged knee and smiles, speaking to himself, "Feels better today." He turns on his bed in the direction of Analdin and sits up, letting his knee bend. "Oooh. It's a bit stiff...at least the pain is gone." He looks over to the two speaking, "Good day, friends." He smiles at Analdin, remembering the other eve's conversation.

Elidran flashes a smile at Edmond, "Edmond! It's good to see you awake..."

With a shake of his head, the lieutenant makes no move at reply to Elidran's comments, just, snarling, looks about the room. At Edmond's awakening, he gives the man a hard look, "May be a good day to you, but certainly not on this side of the infirmary," he replies

Edmond slides off the bed and stands erect, stretching his well rested legs. "Ahh, if feels so good to be out of this bed." He snickers to himself, and wanks closer to the bound patient and Elidran, picking up his blade at the side of his bed. "Shall I cut your chords, milord?" He smiles.

Analdin struggles beneath the sheet, glaring at Edmond the whole time, though his struggles get him nowehere except to have a healer passing by look worriedly at him. "Mock me again," he says slowly, quietly, dangerously, his eyes dark and blackish blue as the wild sea during a tempest, "and you will find yourself once again in bed - perminantly."

Edmond nods solemnly, "Oh, but come now, there needs to be some humor in this place of the sick. And besides, with my lack of skill in this blade I'd more quickly chop your arm off than the cords." He smirks, looking disappointedly at the weapon. "Know you much about longswords, sire?"

Analdin snarls, his glare not softening a single bit, "I have made longswords," he says slowly, the dangerous edge to his tone not dulling a bit, "And keep the titles for another, I wish not to be called lord or sire." Keeping his dangerous gaze on Edmond, he falls into silence.

Edmond bows, "Sorry, milord." He titls his head and raises his sword...one can easily tell he is in bad form. His blade is pointed much to high, and his grip

Analdin s eyes narrow, any good humor lost on him and in him. "Do you wish to see that sword down your throat, whoever you may be?" Tilting his chin up, as though inviting a punch, he adds, "You don't want to get me angry, young man."

Edmond shakes his head, "No...I wouldn't." Youth spurs in his voice, mischief mixed with innocence. "Elder, " he winks, regarding Analdin, "As you are so proficient in your swordsmanship...could you tell me how to hold this thing? Perhaps If I learn something I sha'n't be here in the infirmary with you anymore, bothering you." He smiles.

Analdin sits up, the sounds of splintering ropes can be heard as he does so. A loud gasp emits from him, and pain crosses his features, yet he somehow manages to sit up. A white bandage covers most of his otherwise bare chest, large splotches of dried red blood in various places along his rib cage. "Now would be a wise time to shut your trap, young man. I'm not one to be trifled with, and, if you'd rather not have your head dashed on a smith's anvil, I suggest you quiet down."

Edmond nods, beginning to see the threat that truly exists. "I shall, si--." He cuts himself off, continuing to move around the infirmiry with annoyingly bad form, mocking a battle with his blade. He remarks to no one in particular, "It really is a shame I can't serve Gondor any better than this. Most of the trainers are busy with war themselves."

Malahir is seen stepping into the fort's main hall, dusting off light flecks of snow from his broad shoulders. The black robe held tightly around his neck by a silver ship broach, Malahir walks past saluting guards into the infirmary, and stops in front of a healer. Speaking with him, "How is the news of my commander, Lieutenant Analdin?".

Analdin remains sitting on the edge of his bed, his breathing rather shallow and forced. But he does not lay down, but keeps his eyes on Edmond, glaring the whole time, "Leave us to the war," he says quietly, perhaps out of Edmond's hearing, "And let us do our duty without the interference of brash, insolent young men."

Elidran glances at Malahir and touches the pommel of his sword, his expression thoughtful.

Edmond drops his sword to the ground, not hearing Analdin's words. "Alas, why do they send us so unprepared into battle? I could only be a hinderence unless I was trained properly." He turns to Elidran inquisitively, "Do you know much about bladery?"

Edmond nods, "Aye, as I wish I could, my friend. Perhaps that would save me from toppling myself so quickly and taking up the healers time." He picks up his LONGSWORD again and swishes it about, idly.

Analdin leans back on his hands, closing his eyes to the scene developing before him, concentrating on keeping himself steady. Yet, opening his eyes and seeing Elidran swinging about his longsword, he gives a sharp word of, "Put the sword down, mister."

After an exchange of words with the healer, Malahir nods and walks toward the commotion between his Lieutenant and another whose sword is drawn. He squints at the scene, calling upon Analdin, "Good day sir, are you showing this man how to cut down a troll in your shattered state?", motioning toward Edmond and his LONGSWORD.

The door to the infirmary opens, and in walks a man dressed in robes. He looks over at the swordplay and grows serious. With a voice cold as iron, "Excuse me sirs. If you wish to play, leave." His face shows no humor, and he seems like he would call the guards if need be. "Upsetting those that are here is bad for their healing. Either put the swords down, or I shall call the Head healer to deal with you Knaves." He crosses his arms, waiting for a response.

Edmond turns his head back to the bedded man. "Who? Me? I must practice a little...I cannot simply lay idle, especially when I am so rotten with this thing." He arches an eyebrow, "Perhpas you could show me how to at least hold this properly, and then I shall stop for the day."

Analdin casts Malahir a dark glare, "Not funny, Malahir," he says, glaring at Edmond at the same time. Shaking his head, and breathing deeply a few times, he looks to the young man, "I shall teach you nothing." he says, sharply and decisively, "Espicially with the disaproval of the healers you seem to have gathered..." Trailing off, he adds as a barb, "Not at all unlike mine."

Edmond turns his head to the entering arrival and immediatly drops his blade. "Yes, sir." He sits down on the bed, "But I cannot leave...orders of Aiesha, a healer."

Edmond curses, "I can leave well enough, I think, but they keep me here. I guess I am somewhat like you, sir." He sighs, dropping his blade flatly to the ground. "Ah, well."

Menion nods, seeing the blade fall to the ground. "Aye, if you have been ordered to stay herte by a healer, then allow me to help you back to your bed, where you WILL remain." A menacing look enters his eyes, "Unless, you would challenge me?"

Malahir shrugs, giving the wounded officer a rhye smile. Turning to face the armed man he offers, "You'll do well not to cross with Lady Aiesha. And you'll get only a fiercer challange from me if you shall tempt me by removing your weapon once more in this place of rest and healing, you hear sir?".

Elidran frowns, hand on his sword as he watches carefully.

Analdin raises a light brow, "Challenge a healer? I suggest you obey the fellow, young man." he says to Edmond, a triumphant smirk on his face, still a mixture of red rage and the plaeness of being unable to breath. At Malahir's words, he visibly relaxes a bit, though keeps his commanding - and angry - air.

Edmond laughs, "Yes, I, a man who can barely walk will challenge you." He is sarcastic, and he lies down. He is bombarded by reprimands, closes his eyes, drowning out the voices.

Menion notices Elidran's hand upon his sword speaks again in his harsh voice, "Sir, would you draw tine blade. Now, just having stopped the other nonsense, you wish to start more?" As if nothinbg happened, he spins toward Edmond, "Respect me, you may not be required to do....BUT, I will NOT be disrespected in this hall! Is that understood?"

Edmond remains there, still and motionless, trying to tune out the voices. What a dismal place, this infirmary.

Malahir eyes the sarcastic man with a demonic tone of voice, "You wish to challange me when you are at full strength? I will galdly wait"

Analdin looks up at Malahir, and places a hand on the other's arm, "Calm down, Malahir. I have everything under control." A mischevious twinkle shines in his dark eyes, and he looks about the room. After a moment, he breathes hard once again, and leans back again.

Malahir's gaze remains on Edmond, taking his commanders words to heart, and relaxing his impressive stature. Speaking to the man who seems to be tuning the repremands out, "You realize we wil continue this another time, my father always said there's a time and a place for eveything, and this is not the time nor place".

Edmond shudders in his bed, reaching down and grabbing at his knee. Perhpas the moving around wasn't such a good idea. He no longer heeds the words of the others.

Analdin nods quietly, and lies back down, leaving the covers off of him however, exposing his shoulders and arms to the cold, yet he seems to to mind at all. With a light sigh, he shakes his head slowly, muttering something angrily to himself.

Menion sees the instigator shudder. As he walks over to Edmonds bed a wry(for Malahir) smile crosses his face. "Sir, lay still please, and I will see what I can do." He runs over to a counter and fills a basin with cool water. A few cloths, some herbs, other odds and ends....fill out the supplies that he carries back. With a damp cloth, he starts dapping the man'sedmond forehead. "Sir, I have not seen you before, so please tell me what ails you and I will do what I may." He looks over to Malahir and Analdin, "Are you going to be okay sir?"

Analdin ignores Menion, keeping his eyes intently upon the ceiling, as though it is all he can do to control the pain. Nodding to the healer, he says very quietly, as though speaking too loudly would let down his control, "I shall be fine, thank you."