Dric> Anorien: Great West Road
Dric> You stand amid the westernmost reach of Gondor, in the land called Anorien, or Sun-land. The Great West Road cuts a swath through the rolling hills which appear on either side; the ground here being very rocky and covered with a thick brown grass. South rises the might Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, soaring vast and high above your head, while to the north the faint outline of the river Entwash may be seen, though one's eyes must be great indeed to see over such a distance. East and west the road, which is broad and well-travled, continues onwards as far as the eye can see.

Dric> Dric follows wearily behind Malahir, dragging his feet on the road as he walks in the dust. A frown adorns his features, and he falls further behind with every step. The trousers and talbard he wears is about all he carries, save a small pack with what little food the corporal allowed the young lad to carry on his own. Sighing heavily, he looks up and whines, "Malahir, sir, why d' we have to walk s' long? How much longer 'till we get there?"

Dric> Malahir walks alongside the cheerful Dric, Mal's impressive height towering over the young guard. As odd as any traveling couple can be, the two stroll along the limitless road, with the magestic Ered Nimrais to their backs. The moon is their only guide, hanging on the western horizon. When Malahir notices that Dric has dropped back some, he pauses, holding his arms on his waists, "Master Dric, we are on a very important mission. However, if you'd like to rest now, that would be acceptable", looking around for a good place to eat supper, "But only for a short while, you hear?".

Dric> Dric rolls his eyes, and shakes his head, glaring up at Malahir. "No, I don' need t' rest. I'm stronger tha', and you know it." Lengethening his stride, the young lad creates a peculiar specticle, his short legs carrying him as far as he can. After a moment of walking, he turns around and grimly folds his arms over his chest, "If you're goin' t' come, sir, y' can at least keep up."

Dric> Malahir watches the drummer boy pace passed him in all a huff, and it's all he could do to contain his laughter. Waving at him from the distance Dric has created, he speaks up, "You go on ahead, I'm gonna eat supper. But it's night time, and the wolves come out to see the moon, so I'd be warry of them little one", with that he walks toward the side of the road, placing his walking stick on the ground by his feet. After shucking off his own pack, Malahir collapses by a boulder, and awaits Dric's decision.

Dric> The young lad's eyes widen at mention of supper, and then at wolves. Angrily, though with a hint of frightened hesitation, he scoffs, "I'm not 'fraid of any wolves. And I'm not a li'l one!" Even as he says this, he begins the slow return to Malahir beside the road, looking over his shoulder into the depeening darkness as he does so. Finally, reaching the corporal, he also drops to the ground, and scoots close to the boulder. "Th' wolves wouldn' hurt me, would they Malahir, sir? Not with you around, a' least...?" A tone of fear enters his young tenor voice, and he again looks around warily.

Dric> Malahir watches the lad come walk back slowly, nodding innerly at the tactics he had used. Trying to avoid starring at the frightened boy, Malahir begins to unroll his pack on his knees and remove the desired items for a quick dinner. By the time Dric is seated in front of him and asks his question, Mal had already fixed Dric his honey cured ham and roll sandwhich, handing it over as he speaks, "there is nothing to fear master Dric. Together, with your vigilant eyes and my strength, an entire pack of wolves would be foolish to run into us", grinning as he takes out his only flask of cider and handing that over to the blonde boy. "Eat up though, we have another days travel I'm sure", looking down the road to the northwest.

Dric> Dric flashes a bright grin, picking up the sandwitch. It disapears before you can even see it in his hands, and he licks his fingers carefully. Looking back up, he asks intently, "Y'sure? Y've got a sword, m' brother always said all the Guards did. Bu' I've got nothin', only m'clothes and m'eyes, if y' think they count." Picking up the small flask he carries in his pack, he takes a long sip of the water brought along just for him, and then lets out a boyish sigh, scooting a bit closer to the safety of the rock.

Dric> Malahir takes a long drag of his cider, only to see in his total amazement that the boy has already eaten his sandwhich. Shaking his head as he mutters something about growing boys, he reaches for his own roast of mutton. Before he bites into it he explains, "My sword is one thing. It's by my waist at all times, and I'm never afraid to use it. But it's my wits that I count on first and foremost. Took some long hard lessons to learn that. And as for you master Dric, your strength is in your youthful eyes. You'll be able to spot better than I in this darkness", and he then takes a bite of the meat.

Dric> Dric sighs lightly, almost boyishly, looking longingly at Malahir's supper. A frown, however, touches his face as the Corporal's amazement. "Have y' never seen someone eat, Corporal? On th' boat, the' ship w' all th' other men on it, y' had t' eat fast if y' wanted t' eat at all." A quick grin comes to his eyes as quickly as the frown, "Wh' sort of swordsm'n are y', Lord Malahir," this being the first time he has addressed the corporal in such a manner, a daring look in his eyes, "If y' don' use your sword?

Dric> Malahir glares at the young lad, feeling there was headway made in his training as he addressed the corporal as Lord. "Firstly, I have watched men eat such as that, in the barracks. Honestly, it disgusts me, but that is not the point. The point of my confusion is you are barely a man. However, as you have said, your experiences lend you to such behavior, and I will not harp upon it. Secondly, as you are in the guards formally, you do not need to call me Lord. I myself am not intirely fond of the term, it just doesn't suit me", smiling at the youngster, "lastly, I let my heart guide me sword and use my wits to keep and those I love alive. I only hope you do not need to see what kind of sword fighter I am, as we are all alone out here, and nobody knows where we are", shakes his head, "Not officially at least".

Dric> Dric sighs lightly once more, shaking his head, "A'right, sir," he says, still gazing at Malahir's food. Falling quiet, he leans against the rock, leaning his head on the cold stone. Closing his eyes, he asks the Corporal, "What d'you mean, no one knows where we're? Shouldn' the Lieutenant know?" His words are tired, and he yawns half way through.

Dric> Malahir tilts his head in obvious confusion as to how to answer the question. Sighing deeply he decides that caution is the better part of truth, "The Lieutenant doesn't know exactly where we are mind you. And it seems that you have a fine wit yourself, maybe not as fine to keep you out of trouble though", grinning boyishly himself, the sometimes amiable guard lets his hair fall down to his shoulders as he removes his winged helm. "Are you tired or bored master Dric?".

Dric> Dric yawns once more, moving closer to the larger Guardsmen against the rock, leaning his head on the other's arm. Eyelids drooping, he blinks a few times, "'S long as m'brother knows where we're, we'll be safe." Yawning once more, he adds in a tired voice, "I'm tired, sir, an' not used to walkin' so long..."

Dric> Malahir, not having any children of his own, learns on the job as he allows Dric to lean up against his supportive arm. "Indeed, your brother has ordered me to keep you safe. And safe you will be. I apoligize for alarming you, as long as we keep our wits about us, we shall complete the mission and get back home soon. You will be with your brother, I promise you". Prying his left boot off with his right, Malahir yawns as well, tho much deeper than the boy, "You can rest awhile Dric. I'll be on watch. Just gotta take this boots off, my toes are blistering I think".

Dric> With a smile that seems almost drunken, the lad imitates the corporal, removing his boots, each with the other foot. "I'll be safe, then," he says quietly. Tired as he appears, he continues speaking in the quiet of night. "D'you know any stories, sir?" he asks, peering up into the larger man's face. "About th' soldjers?" he prounances the word almost comically, "Or th' heroes?"

Dric> Malahir chuckles lightheartedly, throwing his pack under his back to give both the lieutenant's kid brother and himself more support against the child sized moss covered boulder. Looking down at the lad, he asks, "Would you like to here a story about a true hero?".

Dric> Dric nods emphatically, a smallsmile comeing to his face, "Aye, sir, I'd love t'!" Stifling a yawn, young Dric tries to hide his tiredness from the corporal, eyes shining in the darkness as he leans heavily on the Guardsman.

Dric> Malahir nods as he looks up toward the western moon, "Since you are a guard, you should know how your Lieuntenant..", smiling, "and brother got his nickname", taking a deep breath, "You see, you brother is much like you, in spirit. Though his position has placed so much stress and responsiblity, he doesn't always let people see the true person that he is. So there is young Analdin, a recruit then and new to just about everybody, including his would be lieutenant. He was frequenting the White Tree Inn you see..", pausing to look at the lad and make sure he has not fallin asleep yet.

Dric> Dric nods quietly and slowly, staring off into the dark night. "M'brother? I've 'eard the guards talk 'bout 'im, they say lots'o stuff that's not nice." He wrinkles his nose a bit in disgust, but falls silent, allowing Malahir to continue his tale.

Dric> Malahir bites his lip, as Dric mentions the other guards, "They are an insolate lot. They use the name scrappy to imply something derogatory and mean spirited. But you and I know better", moving his numb arm a bit in mock nudging fasion, but really to get blood supply back into his hand. "Well, there he was, exploring the sensations one gets when they first try drinks from a tavern, when his an overbearing person walks in the tavern. Your brother didn't know who he was though, and confronted this man. He told him to 'jump into the river Andiun', when the man asked him to remove himself from his presence", raising a brow of amusement at his own embellishments.

Dric> The boy's eyes widen as the story progresses, and he pays close attention. "Analdin, m'brother, said that?" he asks, increduously, as though it were unbelievable. But pride settles in his eyes, replacing the suprise, and he nods to Malahir to continue on.

Dric> Malahir smiles, "that he did. And Ekroth, the one handed, a man of intolerable atttitude and short patience gave your brother the sign it was time to step outside. Seeing that outside the tavern would not be a respectable place to have a disgussion of any kind, the two of them walked to the barracks. Just before they got there tho, with Ekroth the one handed in front of your brother, the mean man turned and headed strait for Analdin'd neck", his eyes wide now as the story winds into the climax.

Dric> Dric listens with rapt attention to Malahir's tale, not saying a word as the corporal recites the lieutenant's deeds. Leaning heavily aganst the larger man's arm, he yawns once, but somehow keeps his eyes open, listening.

Dric> Malahir continues, his eyes glimmering with emotion, "Your brother, good ol' scrappy, though some say completely out of drunken self defense, gave the one handed creaton a jab he'll never forget. With one..", and he makes a sudden jab with his free right arm, "your brother laid Ekroth flat on the ground", gaining the lad's attention for the morale of the story. Shifting the tone of his voice to serious, "you see, nobody that knew him then messed with your brother, as he stuck up for what he believed in. And he didn't believe people have the right to come into a tavern and order people around like that".

Dric> Dric nods slowly, very slowly, yawning as he does so. "Analdin was always a stubborn man," he says, his voice strangely different in half-sleep. His usual boyish, almost sailorish, dialect drops away, and he sounds more like his brother than ever. "M'father didn' want him to go away, but he had t' have his way. Good f'r him..." Trailing off, with a wider yawn than before, the young man rolls over a bit, lying down with his back to the corporal, and drifting off into slumber.

Dric> Aiesha arrives from the northwest.
Dric> Aiesha has arrived.

Dric> Coren arrives from the northwest.
Dric> Coren has arrived.

Dric> Malahir listens intently, concernation written upon his face. Settling down a bit on the pack between his large frame and the mossy boulder, Malahir just looks up at the full moon, it slowly beginning to grow into a huge disc the size of a plate, and low on the western horizon.

Dric> Dric is curled up in sleep right beside Malahir, lying on his side, back to the Corporal. The small rock behind the two, mossy as it is, lies behind them as it is leaned against. The remnants of a dinner, crumbs on the ground and the like, lies not too far away, and two pairs of boots - one considerably smaller than the other - are strewn about.

Dric> Aiesha wanders away from the caravan, whistling a lively tune to herself. As she follows the wolfhound, she takes in her surroundings with great interest, being in an unfamiliar territory. She occasionally finds something that amuses her, and a merry chuckle can be heard coming from her general direction.

Dric> Leading the healer, Coren moves on and off the road stopping every so often to sniff the air. Finally he stops and his growl grows louder, then barking at two figures on the side of the road, the half wolf stops and glares at the two.

Dric> Hypnotized by the amorous moon, Malahir doesn't budge. Seemingly ablivious to his surroundings until a bark his heard. Leaping to his feet and regretably knocking the young Dric to the ground, Malahir stands inbetween the wolf and the lad.

Dric> Dric makes a small noise in his sleep, rolling over and sitting at the barking. Rubbing his eyes, he casts his gaze about, only moving closer to Malahir as he catches sight of the owner of the noise. However, he is knocked aside as the corporal jumps up, and dashes his head on the rock, only bringing a loud moan of pain from him.

Dric> Aiesha stops in her own musings when she hears the wolfhound barking. "Coren, what are you...?" She follows the wolfhound's glare to see the two figures on the side of the road. She glares at Coren when she sees the much younger figure. "Coren, stop it!" she snaps. "Leave them alone."

Dric> Coren turning to look at the healer as her words are spoken, the hound quits his barking but not his low growling. Moving to stand protectly in between the healer and the two strangers, Coren keeps his eyes on the two by the side of the road.

Dric> Malahir eyes dart from creature to the lady that speaks to it. Looking back over his shoulder as he takes a step backwards, "M'lady, look what your beast has done", Malahir cries indignently as he bends over the crumpled form of Dric.

Dric> Dric stifles his moaning, though the pain is apparent across his face. Pupils dialated, he watches from behind Malahir as the lady and wolf approach, though pain distorts his features. Yet, when Malahir bends down over him, he shys back, the pain in his face not only physical it would seem. "Y'promised!" is all he says, and that onyl quietly.

Dric> At this comment, the young healer looks indignant. "T'was not my friend that elbowed your young friend to the ground," she throws back. "You did that yourself." She glances at Coren, her eyes telling him to stay put as she makes her way over to the somehow familiar figures by the road.

Dric> Malahir, with all the anger being held in check by the brave fight displayed by the young drummer boy, blushes. Lending the youth a hand, he says to him softly, "Please forgive me master Dric". Turning toward the now familiar voice, the corporal stiffens, "I didn't make you out in the shadows Aiesha. M'lady, I'm sure you did not mean to surprise me as you did".

Dric> Coren ignoring the healers eyes, more interested in protecting her, the hound follows the healer to the little camp on the side of the road. Once there, Coren sniffs the air again and then let's out a bark of reconition as he reconizes the man who had trained his master.

Dric> Dric keeps his place, lying on the ground beside the stone as the others speak and the dog barks. His eyes are a shadow of pain, and a small trickle of blood begins down the side of his head, the redness dying as it touches his talbard and fades in with the deep black.

Dric> Aiesha snuffs indignantly, but smiles faintly, then glares at Coren as if to say, "See?" She glances to the young lad accompanying her friend Malahir. "Are you alright?" she asks him quietly.

Dric> Coren moves to sit next to the healer, all the while whining apologetically.

Dric> Malahir turns his attention back to the blonde boy, his hair clumping in tangled red knots, "Oh the heavens strike me dead. You are hurt my lad. Please, we must get you to the camp quick", bending down to his knees in order to heft the boy with his arms. As he walks passed Aiesha and her companion he mumbles, "There is much to be done, take me to the camp now M'lady".

Dric> Dric blinks a few times, looking up at Aiesha carefully. Salty tears mix in with the blood on his cheek, and he sniffs as he shakes his head slowly, wincing even at that small movement of it. As Malahir picks him up, he only looks hurt up at the young guardsman, "Y'promised th' wolves wouldn' get me," he says quietly, his voice only a small whisper as he begins to drop off into sleep once more, "But then you hurted me." The tears come stronger, and he turns his face from the corporal, looking off as they close.

Dric> Aiesha glances at Coren once, then nods. "It is not too far off.." Hearing the boy's words, she grins. "If it makes you feel any better," she laughs, "..Coren's a wolf/hound/..he's only part wolf."

Dric> Malahir follows alongside Aiesha toward the camp, his pace long and his patience short, saying not a word as he looks upon Dric grief striken.

Dric> Aiesha heads away to the northwest.
Dric> Aiesha has left.

Dric> You trod along the Great West Road, marvelling at the scenery of the White Mountains to your south. As you move across the plains, you begin to make out a forest that lies in the path of the Great West Road.
Dric> Great West Road---East of the Firien Wood
Dric> The sky is quite overcast, and the air is cool with a light wind.

Dric> You stand just to the east of a forest that seems to have run down from the White Mountains to the south. The Great West Road heads directly into the forest to the west on it's trip towards Edoras and Helm's Deep. To the southeast, the road heads onwards towards Minas Tirith. To the north, the plains of Rohan continue, as they do to the east and south, until they run into the mountains.

Dric> Malahir arrives from the southeast.
Dric> Malahir has arrived.

Dric> Coren arrives from the southeast.
Dric> Coren has arrived.

Dric> Coren moves quickly to follow the group back to the caravan, his strides quickly overtaking

Dric> Dric remains silent and limp in the corporal's large arms, seeming much smaller than he usually does, the uniform he wears dwarfing him as much as the man. He shudders every now and again, and the blood continues to flow from his head.

Dric> Aiesha watches the wolfhound take over, and follows him, occasionally glancing at the boy. "What brings you both here?" she asks curiously. "We are a fair way from Minas Tirith the fair."

Dric> Malahir shakes his head at the luck, impatience souring his once peaceful mood. Looking up at Aiesha with a look of fear, "We shall talk about that latter, right now you must help this poor lad. You are a healer are you not. I demand that you repair what we have done", his eyes becoming teared up and shimmering in the sinking moonlight.

Dric> Slightly ahead of the group but close enough to hear their word, Coren moves with a the grace of the wolven blood in his body. Snifing the air and watching the sides of the road, he makes sure he keeps with in a close distance of the person he is here to protect. All the while leading the party unerringly back to the merchant camp.

Dric> Dric cries out once as, in their walking, the corporal jerks him on a step.. A jerk so slight to as not be noticed normally, but in his wounded state, the young lad's pain increases with each moment. He opens his normally bright blue eyes, dulled now, once and only once, staring at the lady walking nearby, before closing them in silence once more.

Dric> Aiesha chuckles, nodding, muttering under her breath, "At least he isn't trying to blame me!". "I am a healer," she returns, all the more curious by the look of fear directed at her, "..and if you'll allow it," she grins, noting the protectiveness displayed. Upon reaching the caravan, she shoos off several curious onlookers by giving them something else to look at. "Coren," she grins, "..would you mind telling the onlookers to bug off?"

Dric> Coren taking note of the healers command, the half wolf turns to the crowd and growls menacingly. Quickly the group disperses, all save one. Seeing this person not moving Coren rushes him just enough to send the person fleeing in terror. Then satisfied that he has done his work, the wolf hound makes his way back to the side of the healer.

Dric> Aiesha grins at Coren. "Very well done," she compliments.

Dric> Malahir nods, bringing the boy to rest on a small stack on hay. Patting his forehead as to get the bangs out of his eyes, Malahir frowns, "Aiesha, I'm begging you to help me. You will be rewarded with a message from your lover if you act quickly. It is after all the reason I have come for you", a sound of sadness overcoming the corporal's tone.

Dric> As he is set down on the pile of hay, the young lad moans once more, rolling over onto his side and curling up into a ball. He makes not a sound after that, not even the growling of the wolf shoeing onlookers off rouses him.

Dric> Sitting next to the healer as she moves to work on the young lad, Coren takes a moment to look at the injured youth. Seeing him move into a fetal position, Coren walks to the side his face is facing a then lays his head down next to him. Whinning once in apology, but then falling silent all the while continueing to watch the lad.

Dric> Aiesha sneeks a surprised but still curious look at her friend from over her shoulder as she moves to fetch a towel and some warm water. She brings them back to where the boy had rolled onto his side. She sets the water down nearby, and dampens the towel a little. "Why so sad, my friend?" she asks quietly.

Dric> Malahir shakes his head, bowing it as he does, "I don't want to talk about it right now. I don't doubt that your healing skills are professional to say the least, but I have a duty to my fellow guard to give him the best care. And yet, the lad seems to be slipping away from us. Isn't there anything you can do?", he whines.

Dric> Dric remains in his hunched position, moaning softly, though for some reason he seems awake enough to be trying to stop. His eyes suddenly fly open, though he seems to be looking at those around him yet not looking at them at all. With his eyes glazed blue, he shrinks back in fear, whimpering, "No more," he whispers, "Please, lord, no more..." Swollowing, he watches the invisable enemy, fear shining bright in his face.

Dric> Aiesha gently dabs the wound with the dampened towel. "I can keep it clean," she murmurs, "..but I'm really barely more than an apprentice..I'm not sure what else to do." she pauses to think a moment. "The healers of Rohan are well known, even to me..perhaps they may help."

Dric> Malahir quickly dismisses his friend to stand beside the boy whose likeness to Analdin seems uncanny. Placing his hand over the boys brow nervously, he speaks to him, "Master Dric, you are safe, there was no pack of wolves. I was a dolt to ever mention such a thing to you", pausing to consider Aiesha's last words, "Then it shall be done. I have to break one oath for another, but it seems like the only option we have. Strike up a wagon, we must leave for the nearest city at once".

Dric> Aiesha smiles at her friends concern. "The wagons move at their own pace, my friend..the only one who can really speed things up is perhaps Arax or the lady Chrysalis."

Dric> Dric continues to gaze out, frightened and blind. "Please, no," is all he mumbles, continually shrinking back until he has gone asfar as he can go. Yet he flinches once more, crying out, "I beg, lord, I beg! No more!" before falling silent, watching the air before him with terror.

Dric> Aiesha glances strangely at the boy. "But there is no one here," she murmurs.

(Logger/Editor's Note: Dric> <OOC> Aiesha sighs and gets blasted..and has to go NOW :/ Cya.  Aie had to ditch us.)

Dric> Malahir shakes his fist, as he loses what's left of his temper, "To the moon with the guild's concern, this is a guardsmen, and he will be taken to the nearest healer at once. Malahir bends down to pick the boy up, cradeling the muttering lad in his arms.

Dric> Dric cries out as Malahir picks him up, bringing an arm up to shield his face and head, whimpering. "No.." he breathes, pain ripping through his voice, "No.. I will do as you say," he speaks a word in another language, perhaps a title. "Just keep the whip from me.." He buries his head in the large guardsman's chest, yet whimpering.

(Logger/Editor's Note: Dric> <OOC> Coren says, "I need to go to, I will see ya'll tomorow" Nials had to go too.)

Dric> Malahir holds the restless child tightly, making sure the towel is firmly wrapped around the head wound inflicted by the careless Corporal. A tear runs down his cheek and having no free arms to catch it, drops down onto the drummer's blonde hair, matted with blood. Running as gently as he can, Mal takes Dric to the head wagon, shouting for the man named Arax.