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Weather:            Cloudy
Time:                Late Morning <about 11 AM >
Season:              Winter
Date:               Mersday - January 3, 3015

Real Time:          Sun Jul 26 19:42:45 1998
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Analdin's Office:

        Upon entering this room, you immediatly catch sight of a rather plain, wooden desk. It stands not too far from the door, leaving only enough room between itself and the entrance for a pair or so of uncomfortable-looking chairs. Situated upon the desk are many sheets of parchment, a few loose scrolls, red sealing wax, a quill pen and fountain of black ink, and a couple pieces of iron, forged into various shapes, though apparently good paperholders. A window is situated on the far wall behind the desk, allowing the sounds of the training grounds below to filter through with any light at times.
        Beneath the window, against the left wall when you enter, is a plain cot, not too unlike those in the officers' quarters, with a trunk at the foot. Against the other wall is pair of a bookshelves, rather impersonal looking, though the scrolls and books upon them are well organized - first alphabetically, then by dates. Across from the desk and pinned to the final wall is a carefully drawn map of Gondor, inked upon a thin sheet of finely tanned and bleached leather.

Malahir:
        Immediately, you are captured by the honest brown eyes of a young man, who is scantly an adult. There is inner solace in his eyes, which almond shape and youthful glint, show to the viewer his true emotion. Framing his amiable round face are wild brown curls that extend down to his broad shoulders. His smooth face is clean shaven, but not by choice. His leather tanned skin displays the strength he bears in his arms. On his left forearm is a nasty scar, and if he is not wearing his armor, another long scare can be seen on his right shoulder. His impressive stature measures six feet, one inch and he weighs in excess of 210 lbs. Although he has a well toned muscularture and broad frame, he sports a slightly convex belly.
        He appears to blend in with a moonless night. He wears a black tabard emblazened with the city crest of Minas Tirith: the white tree and seven stars, in silver embroidary. He is robed in a long black satin cloak. On the left lapel is a silver brooch of a ship, and on the right part of the cloak, above his heart is a crest of white and blue, with a sword and two horses rearing to meet at the center. A silver cord loops around his left shoulder forming a epaulet. Loose black pants are tucked into black boots and a broad black leather belt slims down the tabard at the waist. A silver buckle, also with the etching of a ship, hangs dead center. His black helm is winged at the crown with long cheeck guards, close fittingthe face. Lazily, his sheath hangs below his waist, where the gold pommel of his sword sticks out from his cloak by his hip. Occasionally, he brandishes an antique wooden cane, the handle being carved into a falcon's head. But while on duty, he grips a small leather buckler that proudly displays the crest of purple and gold, three wreaths, a sigil of his ancient family line. Adding to his massy bulk are the heavy chain mail bodice he wears under the tabard. The metalic links of his armor show little wear, but his leather buckler shows signs of numerous

Analdin:
        Dark blue eyes, the color of the stormy sea, shine glacially cool from this clean shaven young man's face. Dark blond hair cut short, short to hanging just abover his ears in a clean wave, covers his head. His cheekbones are chisled and his features are sharp, though the lines of his mouth are those of one used to smiling - if only slightly. His hands, when they can be seen, are rough and large. His left hand, however, sports a black glove at all times. He is a man of muscle, espicially with strong arms. Though not extremely large, he rises to six feet and is of meduim build.
        He wears the black talbard of the Minas Tirith Guard, with the Tree embriodered in silver on the breast. Simple black trousers are tucked into boots, black and polished to a shine. Upon his right upper arm, near the shoulder, is company insignia, a Silver Ship set against the Gates of Minas Tirith, right above which is the insignia of Company Commander. On his right shoulder are the silver bars and cables of a Lieutenant's rank. A longsword hangs from his belt, perhaps not old, but well forged and well used. No special adornment can be seen on it save the marks of much use. A shining helm with raven's wings sometimes adorns his head, though more often, when in the city, is nowhere to be seen.
        His posture is that of a trained soldier, though rather friendly for it. Even though black is the dominant color in his clothing, his light, almost Rohirric features give him no appearance of darkness. An air of purpose surrounds him like a light mist.
 

Not too much light filters into the window given the cloud-covered sky outside, but with the sun almost overhead it lights the office well enough. The sounds of cooks preparing the mid-day meal can be heard from the barracks, and not a few men are on the training grounds working on their sword play or training in other weapons. The din of this practice easily reaches the open window of the Lieutenant's office. There isn't too much traffic here at this time of day, for the watches shan't change for another hour or so. Men waking and preparing themselves to go on duty are all that can be heard other than those formerly mentioned.

Malahir is quietly sitting at Analdin's desk, his right hand busy writing, no doubt the week's reports. Every once and a while he pauses to dip the quill in an ink well by the side of the papers. Suddenly he gets up and walks to the window. Looking outside, the acting lieutenant draws the curtains and paces back to his desk, seemingly chained to it.

There is no knock on the door to herald the arrival of a visitor. No, the door simply swings easily open, not squeaking at all. The newcomer glances around silently, as if not wishing to disturb the man working hard at the desk. Before long, however, he clears his throat, "Malahir? Has the city burned down yet, or the attack of the Enemy come?" A playful glint comes to his dark blue eyes, and he continues to stand, back straight and hands clasped behind it.

Shocked by the arrival of anyone, much less the glory bound, quest seeking Lieutenant, Malahir stands up suddenly, nearly knocking over the ink well over his papers. Catching it in time, he smirks back, "Lieutenant, it's you. My friend, It's so good to see you again", and he scoots around the desk and walks up to him with an open hand.

A small smile forms on the young officer's face, "Aye, 'tis me. Or, at the least, I thought it was." he glances over his shoulder, "Unless you're speaking to someone not here..." Trailing off, he breaks out into a wide grin, one not often seen on his usually solemn face since he was promoted to his current rank. Taking a few steps forward, he clasps his friend's hand with a solid, strong grip, "And you, Malahir. Tell me, how goes the buisness of the city in my absence? I do hope there have been no attempts to burn down the White Tower since I've been gone?"

Malahir takes note of his friend's peculiar ways and smiles, "Lieutenant, You must have had grueling travels, and I can see you've been through a battle, come sit down", and he offers him, quite interestingly his own chair, the back of it just a tad loose, "Do we really have enough time to talk about what has happened in your absence? Are you back for good, or just checking up on me?", he asks slyly, with a wink and a smile.

The grin fades, and the officer shakes his head, "We have time, certainly, though I ought be back in Osgiliath before nightfall tommorow." Taking the seat without a second thought, it being his own office after all and his chair at that, Analdin leans back before continuing. However, when he does so, the loose seat back causes him to frown. "I was rather just checking on how you were holding up in my absence," he frowns once more and tries to adjust the seat by moving his back, "But I get the feeling you may have a full report." Leaning back with a rather uncomfortable look on his face, the Lieutenant motions to one of the chairs across the desk from him, "And I have the time to listen." With that, he folds his arm across his chest.

With a truely embarrassed, blush red face, the acting lieutenant takes a seat, one not quite as broken as the one that Analdin is in right now. Sitting across the desk from him, he attempts to keep eye contact with him, but the closeness makes it hard to. He eyes the papers now in front of Analdin, "Certainly, I have reports of just about everything, from the progress of our new recruits, the events of the posts, how the acting staff changes are progressing", he nods slowly with the mentioning of the last. Then he speaks up again, "The company is fully operational now sir, tho it has been working under staffed for some time now. It hasn't been easy", and he scratches his head uncomfortable with the afterthought, "sir. I for one, could really use your leadership back in that there chair".

Analdin listens with full attention to Malahir's shortened reports, nodding every now and again, espicially at mention of the company's operational status. "Have the sick men not returned to duty? The healers told me they should not be inactive for more than a month at most." He pauses to rub his chin, a bit of stubble there from days in the saddle without much time to keep his usual clean-shaven appearance. "And what staff changes have you made? I fully trust your judgement, and am certain you chose well. Just like to keep on top of my men, if I can, you know." Though no smile appears, there is a hint of humor in that last statement... one which disapears as he motions over his shoulder towards the chair back. "And speaking of sitting in this chair, what has happened to it?"

Malahir scratches his head, pondering the steps he should take to describe the incident with the chair, "well sir, I had an accident with the chair. I got alittle excited with a certain old timer, you remember Mathirion. I'm really sorry, I'm having it fixed, but I didn't think you'ld be back so suddenly", absent mindedly scratching his chin now, then continueing with the rest of the report, "The new recruits filled in for when the sick were not able to report for duty, now that they have come back, I have given many of the men half time at the post, because we are", and he seems very excited with saying this fact, "we are actually alittle overstaffed right now, I'm not sure if we should let the new recruits go or not. What do you think sir?".

A light brow rises, "Excited? With Mathirion? Did he do something exceptional for a change? Always so... unnoticable, if you understand me." Shrugging, the young officer continues on with the rest of the buisness, "Keep them on. If you need to, spread them out over the other companies, provided they have room. We never know when more troops will help. Or you could award leave time to some of those more over-worked." Leaning back akwardly in the broken chair, Analdin closes his eyes as though thinking.

Malahir nods, relaxing a bit now that the young upstart officer has seemed to relax and possibly has forgotten about the chair, "Very true sir, Mathirion and I have gotten into a few heated discussions. I have kept the reports of his insubordination from being turned over to the Lord Captain in his absense, but also because I wish you to review them. I believe making him my aide was a mistake, but I'm also willing to give him a second chance", trailing off into a hint of questioning.

Unfolding his arms, opening his eyes, and leaning forward, Analdin clasps his hands, setting his wrists on the desk. "Are you certain we speak of the same man, Malahir? Mathirion has never been anything but the best soldier, instantly obeying orders and never disputing authority. I shall wish to see those reports, but a bit later. As I've said, I trust your judgement, all the better if you learn something from it." Pausing a moment, the young officer looks the acting Lieutenant in the eyes. "Enough of buisness matters, those can wait. How are you holding up, my friend? Command is no easy task."

Malahir shifts uncomfortably, and tries to keep his tone flat and businesslike, "Aye sir, I have learned alot sir. I great deal that I didn't realize before taking command. Mathirion", shaking his head, "has been a real nuisance, but also a great help in the learning process, perhaps he was just trying to teach me a lesson that day", he shrugs lightheartedly. "It's been stressful, but I've even had some time to", he pauses and then reconsiders, "nevermind sir, I'm doing alright I guess".

Analdin nods almost understandingly, "I had a man or two try that with me. You simply need to show them who is in command, who gives the orders, and who jumps when told. If Mathirion hasn't shaped up yet, let him know that I approve of any disiplinary measures you must take, even should it come to giving lashes for insubordination. The important part is that /you/ show him." After the long-winded lecture on command, he pauses a moment for breath. Straightening as if remembering something, however, one of his light brows rises, "Had time to what, Corpor- er, Lieutenant?" Even as he stops and corrects himself, it is obvious from his expression that that form of address isn't one he is exactly used to.

Affirming his commander that the lecture sank in, Malahir nods and repeats, "I will show him sir. I feel that his prior commitment to his previous commanders", pausing to deliberate his response, "and my lack of field command, gives him reservations that I do understand myself. But as I have noted in the reports, I do not approve of his repeated insubordination in front of the men, nor in this office. It is important that the guard be run completely free of any personal feelings. I do not tolerate a break in the command structure, as so many lives depend on it", with that he puts the issue at rest and raises his own brow, "I would have liked more time, but, well...", trying hard to put the less business like events of the Lieutenant's absence into words, "I caught a youngster eager to become a guard, snooping around the barracks constantly interupting the training of the men. Perhaps, this youngster's enthusiasm for the guard can be put to good use. The only problem is, the youngster is a little girl, no more than eight I think", anxiously looking to Analdin in hopes of understanding, "I hope you don't mind that I haven't taken disciplinary actions with her, you see, her mother. Well, you see, she's really a great little girl, I've grown accustomed to her sitting at the stone wall every afternoon. It's not everyday you meet someone so eager to talk with me..", trailing off again, feeling a bit embarrassed under the Lieutenant's stare that he perceives is a disapproving one.

Analdin's stern look remains as Mathirion's deeds are mentioned, and he shakes his head slowly, "Aye, speak with him. That is, you speak with him. Reports are all well, and good for the record, but no discipline can be taken that will be as effective as that from his officer. You'll learn, my friend. Valar know, it took me long enough." The solemness on his face breaks out into a slight smile, very slight, and definite amusement touches his face at his own statement as much as at mention of the young lass. "A girl, you say? Watching the men at training? Perhaps she is a bit old for her age, as I would perfectly understand a young woman with four more years than you say this girl has..." He trails off, thinking a moment. Standing suddenly, he places a hand on his aide's shoulder, "As I have said before, Malahir, I trust your judgement. While I am away, you have this post. If you enjoy her company and if she doesn't interrupt your work or the men's training, I see nothing wrong with her being underfoot."

Malahir salutes smartly, "I thank you sir. You have been a role model for me, and I know I couldn't have done it without your guidence, even when you haven't been physically here. Discipline is a tough, but necessary vice in command. This I learned from you back in Osgil", and he falls into silent submission.

Remaining standing, the young officer removes his rough hand from Malahir's shoulder, clasping it with the other behind his back. He glances down at the chair, as if reluctant to once more take the seat, "Aye, all too necessary. You have been in the Guard long enough to know that the chain of command can't be broken if we are to work to a good end. Anyhow, what else would I do with my free time, and yours as well, if not keep the youngsters, and old timers I suppose, in line?" A good humored twinkle lights in his eyes, and he tilts his blond head slightly, "Now tell me what happened to my chair, will you?"

Feeling the weight of the lieutenant's hand off his shoulder, the young guard relaxes more, enough to be able to respond to his next question, "It was an accident sir. In the midst of disciplining Mathirion, I might have gotten alittle too excited somehow broke your chair. Since then I've been working on my weight. Since then, I've also met a certain woman. Well, anyway, I've trained hard and lost a good twenty pounds sir, plus regained alot of muscle I had lost after my first visit to the White Tree Inn", smiling smugly.

A light chuckle escapes the Lieutenant, "So 'twas you who broke my chair? I should hope you're working on that weight, then, soldier. For if you weren't, I'd have you running from the Gates to the Citadel five times before breakfast each day." Though there is a hint of quiet humor in his voice, his tone suggests that he is quite serious about it. Nodding down to the chair, he adds, "And I quite expect this to be repaired when I return as well," as if he already mentioned something he expected fixed by that time.

Malahir bows his head, "Aye sir, I do apoligize for ruining your chair, I've got the finest craftsmen on ths job. Say, when do you think you will be back sir?", craning his neck to spy out the partially closed window, the curtains only being half drawn from before.

Analdin shakes his head slowly, "If only I knew, Malahir. 'Twas my good fortune to be able to stop by here before we continue onwards, for I truely miss the city and the Guard. Being amongst so many of Dol Amroth does not help much either." That last he adds with a hint of a smile. "I will bunk the night in the officers' quarters, if you have taken up in here, and ride for Osgiliath in the morning, then. You're doing well, my friend."

Malahir stands up and bows, looking at the young officer sincerly, "Thank you sir. For your encouragement and your ever present guidance. But I wish for you to sleep in your own room tonight. I just don't feel right, taking it from you while you are here. The officers quarters isn't fitting for a man of your rank", he walk over to the bunk and takes his gold and sable armor, and thumbs a likewise colored cord. He places them over his shoulder, "I'll go to my old bunk tonight sir".

Analdin returns the Acting Lieutenant's bow with a half bow of his own, "'Tis a blessing to have a man competent as yourself in the company, my friend." A soft smile touches his face, "And I thank you for my office, though I would not wish to keep you from your work." With a final, longing look around the room, one that brings back such memories to the officer who was first here a green youth and returns a battle-worn officer of not many more years. "And who knows," he adds softly, very softly, "If all goes well, perhaps the work shall be yours perminantly."

Malahir, whose waist you can see is becoming tighter with all the work he's been putting into training new recruits, hefts the armor back to Analdin's bunk and turns around, not before registering a small sigh. Looking at his dear friend he says, "I would not nearly be a good enough replacement for you sir. But all I wish for is that chance to fill your shoes. Or boots as the case may be", he walks over and gives his friend a hand clasp on the shoulder and smiles.

Analdin's soft smile remains, and for once he doesn't grow angry as Malahir touches his shoulder. However, he does take a step back quickly, nodding, and falling back into Lieutenant-mode as his smile disapears. "I have things to check on in the city, and provisions to purchase. You'll make a fine commander, with some experience on your side. Keep up the good work. I'll check back in here before I leave again." With that he strides quickly out the door without looking back.

Malahir salutes his commander informaly, and closes the door behind Analdin. Sighing, as if being relieved of a great weight on his shoulders, the tall man whose youthful face has now seen a touch of age defining winkles takes a seat at the cot in the corner of the room, his head falling to his lap in resigned faitgue.