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Weather:            Clear
Time:                Mid Afternoon <about 3 PM >
Season:              Summer
Date:               Sunday - July 13, 3014

Real Time:          Wed May 27 17:15:20 1998
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From Officers' Quarters, Malahir walks through the open door and into Analdin's Office.
Malahir has arrived.

After knocking on the door, and being advised to enter, Malahir opens the door a crack and sticks his curly topped head inside, sneaking a peek at the lieutenant, "Sir? May I come in...".

Analdin sits on the corner of the cot in the room, summer light shining on his bright hair. His hands are busy polishing a pair of boots, and you see his stockinged feet by the side of the cot. That is, one hand is busy, the other he holds still in his lap. Looking up as Malahir enters, he waves with his right hand, "Come on in, Malahir. What can I do for you?"

Malahir pushes the door wider and enters the room, donning his guard uniform, but stripped of armor and his usual cloak. Walking over to the sitting blonde officer he stops before him, a ray of sun just barely striking Malahir's booted feet. Addressing the man causiously, "Well sir, I wish to report back to you in person...", shruging, "and when you are in a better condition that yesterday in the house of healing. I was wondering sir, what accident befell you?".

Finishing with one side of one boot, he turns it over, and begins scrubbing at the other side. Keeping his eyes on his work, watching it carefully, he chuckles lightly, "Glad to have you back, Malahir. What have you to report? A good leave, I should hope." After a few moments of polishing, he looks back up, "As for myself, nothing of consequence. Or so I thought."

Malahir watches the boot polishing with keen interest, then after hearing the lieutenant he rubs his eyes, staring at him tiredly, "It wasn't an easy leave, but it was some time off that I didn't to collect my scattered thoughts. My mother has passed away, so the house is in mourning. May I sir, wear this black band on my shield for her?"

As though he is not fully mentally "here," Analdin blinks once or twice, staring blankly at the Corporal. After a moment or two, he shakes his head, setting his boot down, "I'm sorry, Malahir," he says slowly, like one waking up after a short nap. "Go ahead, wear it if you wish." The sun, pouring through the window as it is, rather contrasts the young officer's not-quite-here presence.

Malahir nods approvingly, squinting at the glare in his eyes. Moving around to the side of the cot where the officer whose one arm is bandaged, Malahir motions toward so mentioned dressing, "Are you going to tell me how you got that injury sir?".

Rubbing his eyes slowly with the back of polish-stained hand, Analdin motions for Malahir to have a seat. "I took a day's leave for myself, tried to escape the work piling up," he waves towards the cluttered desk. "Spent it in the forges on the second tier. While I was hammering a blade, a bit of it flew off, landed in my arm." With a final shrug, he says at last. "I thought it was nothing."

Malahir takes the offered seat, sighing as he places his hands on his knees. Nodding at the revelation, he mutters, "You're ambition to better your father, well. I don't blame you. I'd say sir, polishing your boots on your leave, is there a march ahead?", pontificating the entire conversation, the soldier's mind is obviously someplace else.

"I'm still on leave?" The other man's statement gets Analdin's attenion, and he raises his eyes from his work. "Why, I thank you for telling me. No, 'tis been a day, as the healer said, and a half on top of it. I have duties to take care of, some that just cannot be put off." Shaking his head once more, he looks back to his boots, though his heart quite obviously isn't in the work.

Malahir shrugs, looking around the room for awhile as Analdin spit shines his boots. Passing the piles of papers on the crowded oak desk, the corporal's eyes comes to rest on a bag on the floor. Mentioning off handedly, "the trip was quite a bore without the company of a certain lad. I've been wondering how he is doing sir? Your brother I mean. Is he well?".

Analdin's brows knit together, and he gives Malahir an inquisitive look. "Without his company? Is he well? I say, he hasn't been around here for almost two weeks. I could have sworn he went off with you..." Trailing off, the young man shakes his head slowly, rubbing his brow with his half-black right hand. "Have you not seen him, then?"

Malahir keeps his eye on the knapsack, its camouflaged canvas flap tied shut. Malahir mumbles something but repeats it, "I'dunno sir. I was asking you wasn't I?", his eyes finaly shooting to the lad in question's older brother's eyes, a mysterious stare leveling from the aide's calm brown eyes.

Eyes a stormy blue, Analdin meets Malahir's gaze, a frown deepening on his rough face. Rough, that is, as it appears to not have been shaved for a day or so. "That you were, Malahir. Then you don't know where the boy is?" A hint of worry enters his tone, and he begins pacing slowly, mumbling about the troublesome kid.

Malahir looks up and watches the pacing of the brother like the crowd watching a tennis match. Sighing and shaking his head, "I'm sorry sir", pausing as he bites his lower lip, "..but I do not know of his whereabouts. I only know that before I left to be with my family and straiten out this fog in my head, it seems as if the kid wished me to not be around anymore", a frown coming to the young man's face.

With another shake of his head, Analdin turns to Malahir, frown ever deepening, and a troubled look coming to his eyes. "Dric? He admires you.. or so I have heard, from his mouth as well." Shoulders falling slightly, as in a silent sigh, the Lieutenant continues his pacing across the office, holding one arm still to his chest.

A sound, rather like a scuffle of small feet on the floor, is heard just outside the office, but soon disapears beneath the Lieutenant's bootfalls.

Malahir brushes back a stray curl from his eyes, smiling at the mention of Dric's admiration. Looking at the closed door to the office for a second before he looks at the pacing brother, Malahir stands, "Sir. I'm sure he is fine. I will search the houses of those friends he's made in the time he's been with us. I'm sure I can get some information out of them", nodding as he crosses his arms.

Analdin rubs his forhead once more with his blackish hand, as though to rub away a headache. "I'd appriciate it if you would, Malahir. But if that boy's run off once more..." He trails off, adding only in passing, "Then I'd have two to worry about."

The sound occurs once more, a bit louder than before, and almost noticable. A squeak, like that of a rusty door-hinge, comes from outside the officer's quarters, quite loudly, but the scuffling continues.

Malahir looks once more toward the door, furrowing his eyes. Slowly and quitely he says, "I will sir, there is really no need to worry", saying this as he inches toward the door, "There's no doubt in my mind has you gone to Izmeralda's father, the smithy from this tier rather than the one on the second, you would have found him annoying the poor family". Malahir says this as he creeps up next to the door, motioning at it to Analdin.

The sun sinks in the sky and falls below the horizon. Nighttime takes over.

Analdin, either not seeing Malahir's motion, or ignoring it, continues his pacing, the loud bootfalls on the floor almost echoing through the room. Nodding slowly, the man says in a quiet tone, "I hadn't yet thought of that, I fear. Thought he was with you, and it would not have suprised me if he had been." Worry is evident in his voice, though a good tinge of anger is creeping in slowly.

As slowly as the anger creeps into the young officer's voice, the scuffle outside the door grows louder. A soft, childish sneeze can be discerned if one listens close enough.

Malahir looks from door to brother, whose preoccupation with pacing seems to have put him into a frenzy of worry. Shaking his head, the corporal smiles toothely, "Well sir. I'm sure he will turn up. If I know him", placing a hand on the door knob, "he's may just have his grubby ears up against this door", opening inward quickly, he yells, "aha!"...hoping that Dric is in fact behind the door, and not Lord Boromir for instance.

The door swings wide open, and a small figure suddenly finds himself face-to-face with Analdin's bootprint - and Malahir's boots. Wide blue eyes, blue like the sky at midday, a much lighter shade than his brother's, turn upwards, gazing through the mop of light hair. A soldier's curse escapes the boy's lips, and he begins to stand, placing his hands square on the floor to push himself up..

Only just in time to see the black trousers and boots of two guardsmen standing before him, one with his hand on the door handle, while the other has his arms folded over his chest. The latter, the Lieutenant, stares down at the child, his frown deep and he does not appear very happy. No sound escapes his lips, only a warning glare at the boy, which deepens at the child's language.

Malahir's once broad smile fades to a look of concern for both brothers as he looks from one to the other. Offering his hand to the fallen lad he says, "I'm sorry master Dric, if I had known you'd be hurt I wouldn't have pulled that stunt. Still, do you have any idea how worried you made your brother, pulling that stunt of yours is by far the worst I've seen from you!", raising his voice, then settling back down, allowing Analdin his right to berate the child.

Speaking slowly, the Lieutenant takes a step back, watching the young boy, "Watch your mouth, young man," he begins, not at all in his normally quiet voice. No, this is one of those thundering tones heard only on occasion from this man, that kind where every word is an order, and he expects to be obeyed. "I want to know where you've been this past fortnight, if not with the Corporal."

The young boy, ignoring the Corporla's hand, pushes himself up, even in the face of the two grown men. Still a good couple feet the shorter, he has grown a bit in the past while, and his bangs fall further into his eyes than before. Wiping them away defiantly, he folds his arms over his chest, imitating his brother and matching his gaze. "I've been on my own. Y'know I'm a good twelve seasons now, Analdin," he tilts his chin up a bit, more defiantly, "I c'n take care o' m'self. Can't I, Corporal, sir?"

Malahir's gaze, so strikingly set on the older brother's tempor, moves to the little lad's indignant face. "Now see hear master Dric. You have alot of growing up to do still. You don't know how to fend off the trouble you cause in your wake. Now you mind your brother, he", he stammers, "you must understand that he's not only your brother, but the next best thing to a father to you".

Analdin pauses a moment, eyes remaining on the young lad, but, silently, he listens to Malahir speak. As the Corporal finishes, the young officer, still looking down at the boy, nods slowly, "Dric," he begins once more, tone having only softened a tad. "Your age is one thing, being out on your own is something else. Yes," he holds up a hand, "I know you've done it before. But thinga are far different here than a corsair's ship... Don't you remember a thing from all the discipline you recieved from Father?" He shakes his head, slowly.

The boy's defiant look remains, not hardly breaking at the either man's words. "But my father's dead!" he states, loudly and clearly, the streak of temper more often seen in his brother rising in the boy as well. "Just like Rhif's. As for Analdin..." He casts the Lieutenant a dubious look, "He's more of a commander than a father. Or a brother, either." his speach is amazingly clear, not so much blending of words, but still boyish.

Clearly umcomfortable in the midst of this family feud, the corporal stammers for words, but instead looks from brother to brother. His eyes showing a look of sympathy for both, he steps backward, shaking his head sullenly.

Chin still up in defiance, the boy turns on his heel, not saying a word, and makes for the door. Eyes a-blazing, he turns once, looking to both the men, "Just leave me alone, will ya?" he seems to plead. In one quick motion, he reaches his arms down, and, forgetting even to loosen his belt, yanks off his talbard, tossing it onto his brother's cot. "I didn' swear an oath to beat on a drum, didn' swear one at all." With that, he turns once more, and begins for the door.

Picking up the lad's talbard as it lay on his bed, Analdin watches sadly as the boy storms off, making no move to call him back, only shaking his head. "Another one.." is all he says, muttering it almost to himself.

Malahir watches the demonstration of rebellion, completely agoged. Stammering after the lad at first, he suddenly stops at the threshold, "Master Dric?", he cries out as the child slams the outside door to the officer's quarters shut. Turning around slowly, he eyes Analdin. Shaking his head, he asks quite frankly, "Sir, what do you mean another one?".

Analdin slowly lowers himself back to sitting on the side of the cot, the noise of the door slamming shut not phasing him at all. Eyes downcast, he holds the boy's small uniform, feeling it beneath his fingers. "My fault, of course. I should never have pressed him into it.. He should have been allowed to stay back at the old villiage, or in Pelargir, where he was happy." At Malahir's question, he ceases his self-berating mumbling, and looks up at the man. "Second boy I've driven off this week... First Rhiforath, now young Dric."

Malahir steps up toward his best friend as he looks at the undersized black uniform, a pair of small rider's boots, and his empty tabbard. Placing a hand on the boots, a faint intake of breath can be heard from the large fellow, whose big heart wells up inside him. "Sir, maybe he is just acting out. He'll be back when he is ready", looking toward the door, "soon I hope. Should I go after him?".

A hopeful gleam lights in Analdin's eye, only ot be distinguished not too long after. "I hope.. I hope." is all he says in that regard. Voices can be heard outside, one older, a Guardsman, and the other the voice of young Dric. The words are undistinguishable, but obviously hot, and they cut off as quickly as they began. The Lieutenant stands quietly, stepping to the closed door, but shaking his head once more. "If he returns, we'll welcome him back. But he knows how important I hold my oath, and I doubt if he would.. make light of it as he did if he intended on coming back."

From Officers' Quarters, Rhiforath has arrived.

From Officers' Quarters, The door slips open very quietly and admits one person who closes it behind themselves and then stands in the dimly light Quarters. No one else being about at this hour, even though a light falls from one of the Offices, that person stands silent. Thinking, perhaps.

Malahir steps over to the window, glancing out in hopes of spoting Dric, "Sir, I best follow him. I will stay back so he will not be aware of my presence. Would you allow me this? I will report back of his new whereabouts and his safety will be guarenteed as long as I am with him.", turning back to see the Lieutenant.

From Officers' Quarters, Rhiforath eases over towards the office that shows a light shining under the closed door and stands outside it quietly, trying to listen for voices. Nervous as all hell, the youth reaches out a hand to knock... but doesn't. He stops.

Then, griting his teeth, he knocks anyways.

You hear a knock from the direction of Out.

From Officers' Quarters, Rhiforath knocks on the door.

Analdin shakes his head once more, "I don't know, Malahir. I think 'twould be best if we let him go, let him go his way... The last thing he needs is myself. But if you wish to, do so, I won't stop you." He seems about to go on, but a loud knock on the door startles him. He gives a shout, yelling for the visitor to enter, then watches the doorway, almost holding his breath.

You shout "Enter!"

From Officers' Quarters, Rhiforath walks through the open door and into Analdin's Office.

Rhiforath has arrived.

Turns suddenly upon hearing the knock, his hopes high as his eyebrows raise, May it be Dric?", he whispers to himself. But his head hangs low when the figure that enters is not the lad.

Opening the door and slipping in, Rhiforath keeps his head down so that his hair covers his face somewhat. Tentively he glances up, "Hmmmmmm... sir? Quarter Master wouldn't issue me a new tabbard." His voice is very low, almost unheard.

Rhiforath leans against the closed door. His clothing is ... well, what's left of his uniform, most likely. He keeps his face turned slightly sideways and seems like he'd really rather not be here.

Blinking slightly as the man who enters isn't exactly the one expected, Analdin stands, dropping the black cloth he was holding. One arm held by his side, almost uncomfortably, the other still quite animate, the young officer looks Rhiforath up and down slowly, "I'll speak with him," he says quietly, almost tiredly, sounding quite exhausted. "Though I might ask what happened to your previous one? Or yourself, for that matter?"

Rhiforath lifts his head somewhat and tries to smile but his lip is split, "Ehm, well, I seem to have lost it, sir." His fashed grin is short lived but now that he can't hide his balck eye he looks pointedly at the Lieutenant's arm, then glances to Malahir and back, "You ok, Sir?"

Malahir looks the poor lad over, shaking his head disaprovingly. He quickly turns back to the window, leaning in so close his bulbous nose touches the window pane. A fog quickly grows larger with each breath. His large hands embrace the window sill as he quitely searches for something outside.

The next most notable thing about Rhif is he smells like he's been sleeping in a slop alley. By evidence of his clothing, he prolly has. He licks his lower lip and glances again at the Corporal. The young man stands stiffly and waits for the wind he expects to come blowing from the Lieutenant.

Analdin's gaze goes quickly to the young man's eye, black as it is, and the rest of his face once it is no longer half-hidden by hair. He shakes his head slowly, silently a moment, examining the youth's scrapes. "Seem to have lost it looks to be an understatement, Rhiforath. I should ask where you got yourself lost to that your mother would come speak with me out of worry..." he trails this off, however, and once again falls silent for a few moments before continuing in his slow, tired voice, "And I should ask what it was as made you leave for so long, without release to do so. I think I will, for that matter. What happened to you, so-" he breaks off, realizing about what he was going to do, and only looks expectantly at the youth, ignoring the question about his health.

Malahir once again turns, with an anxious look on his face as he addresses both parties in the room, "Excuse the interuption sirs. Lieutenant, I must make sure the boy isn't going to get himself killed. I will return tomorrow morning and talk to you further. I can't stand here and do nothing", walking toward the door, "Pardon me Rhif", he says as he walks briskly my the battered young guard, and out the door in a hurry.

Malahir walks through the open doorway and into the Officer's Quarters.
Malahir has left.

Grimacing as he tries to stand up straighter but favors his right leg and seems to be sore in his middle, Rhiforath tries to smile, very embarassed. As the Lieutenant speaks and mentions the young man's step-mother (refering to Lynn), he raises his head a fraction more and opens his mouth. Looking worried he almost interrupts but keeps still as Analdin continues. At the last of the Lieutenant's question that is left unfinished, the young man has looked away and is reluctant to answer.

Several long silent moments pass and when it seems he won't answer, Rhif instead moves. Without asking he takes about three uneven stesp and slips into one of the chairs that face the desk. He holds his side and makes a face, "I .. well, kinda ran into some people. Or, rather they ran into me." He ducks his head, "I really don't want to talk about it sir. I came back as soon as I could walk back." Rhif looks at the floor and his empty bootsheath and then glances back, "I was hope'n to clean up before I went home. I didn't want to worry Lynn."

Rhiforath adds quickly, "Quarter Master holler at me and told me to report."

Analdin watches in silence as Malahir leaves, though his eyes follow the Corporal as far as they can, almost sadly. He sighs lightly, and throws his right hand up in exasperation before looking back to the youth. His face is grim as he listens through the explination, touched by a number of different feelings flickering their way to the top of the stack in turn. "She sounded worried, enough even to find me to holler at when you didn't show up at home for three days straight. I won't ask further - this time." The young officer's tone changes slightly, he seems to wake up a little more. "But if this happens again, young man, there'll be some trouble for you." He remains standing, more surely than many such nights past, watching the youth closely.

Rhiforath just sorta shakes his head as if to say 'yes' but doesn't say anything. He closes his eyes a moment as he listens and then takes a breath carefully, "You can be most certain I don't -intend- to repeat it, sir. Not by choice." Swallowing and looking tired himself, Rhif adds, "I'd just like to go lie down, if that's ok?" It seems the young man would really be anywhere else but here bothering his officer again.

Nodding slowly, rubbing his rough chin, rough from lack of shaving, Analdin motions towards the door, "By all means, go on, get some rest, and clean yourself up. I'll speak with the quartermaster about getting your new talbard... And I still have those things you didn't want last time."

Rhiforath nods and is a bit slow to stand but does. He limps to the door and leans against it, "Thank you, Sir." He opens it and moves on out to go to the barracks.