Minas Tirith: Before the Great Gate
Rising up before and tappering off towards the great moutains behind them, a walls of Minas Tirith climb into the air. Here, at the roadside a small hill rises to the entryway of the city where guards stand before the gate. These men are known as the Doorwardens. Currently the gate is withdrawn into its housing and the doors before it opened wide. The great Gate itself is housed between the two Doortowers before you, standing some 100 feet tall and nearly 50 feet wide. The gate to is made up of a pure steel bounded about the trunks of an unknown wood. The gate is said to able to withstand anything, as even the most strongest blows will just make the gate bend slightly and then return to shape.

Men and women enter and leave the city being stopped, most pass without contest others pass over weapons they carry or have them peaceknotted. Others are turned back as they approach with a horse or a cart. Only the horses of the Stewards errandriders are allowed in the city. Off to the south are the stables and inn houses outside the walls. To the east lie the crossroads of Great West Road and the Great North Road.

You feel the light Autumn drizzle upon your face...

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Weather:            Rainy
Time:                Twilight <about 8 PM >
Season:              Autumn
Date:               Trewsday - October 16, 3014

Real Time:          Sat Jun 27 18:51:56 1998
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Working his way through the crowd, Nials gently brushes the man standing amisdt the crowd. Stopping only long enough to offer a simple apology, the young lord continues on his way. But this time his steps more careful.

Analdin stands quietly just beside the Gates, appearing to ignore the rain falling lightly on his bare head. He watches the crowd with little interest, eyes flickering lightly over those coming and going in the late hours. There is only a small crowd, mainly those leaving or entering the city before nightfall, though the darks has already begun to decend and the lamplighters are going their rounds.

Approaching the Main Gates to the City of the Guard, Nials draws his cloak about him to keep the rain off his body. His hair is matted and wet, for there is no hood covering his brow. Making his way through the traffic the young squire is eventually forced to the wall by the crowd of people heading to the taverns and to thier homes. The blue eyes of the young lord draw in the face of a lone Guardsmen whose feature are hidden by the darkness. Walking closer to him Nials finally recognizes the face of his friend and former commander, "Hello Lt. Analdin," he says warmly despite the chill of the rain, "how fare you this evening?"

His attention drawn from the small yet loud crowd, the din from the people mixing in with the light pattering of rain on the paving stones, Analdin catches sight of Nials, though his sight passes over the young lord until he approaches somewhat cloaser. At the lord's words, the young officer remains silent a few long moments before replying, "Good evening to you as well, Nials," A touch of his unusual humor shines in his bright eyes as he adds, "Better than most my men, it would seem, to find myself on duty at the Gates while many of them lie sick in the Houses. What brings you here with night coming on?"

"I am on my way to the House that my Prince, Lord Imrahil owns in the city," replies the wet squire. "I just recieved word that a few letters have come from Dol Amroth, and I was on my way to see if my wife had written me." Looking about him, the young man watches the crowd for a minute before speaking again, "I remember well the days when I stood here myself," he says in a voice that seems to be reaching into the depths of his memory. Turning his shining blue eyes back upon the Lt., Nials smiles, "But that seems so long ago."

Analdin nods, the smile in his eyes disapearing slowly at mention of buisness with the Prince. "Long enough," he says quietly, tone serious. As the lamplighters approach, the Lieutenant steps aside for a moment, allowing the light over his head to be lit without him getting in the way. While the men continue on with their buisness, the sputtering of torches and lamps in the rain can be hear by those in corners quiet enough. "A letter from your wife is enough to tramp through the rain for? I think back on a book I was reading of late, one mentioning a battle which took place in a rainstorm. The rain managed to keep the cavalry back, though I suppose it wouldn't be enough to keep a man from a letter his wife may have sent."

Nials smiles to himself a the Lt.'s words, "I would brave an assault on Mordor if I knew the Shadow Lord held a letter from my Lady Love." Looking about him once again, the young squire watches the crowd. Taking note as best he can in the lamplight, Nials watches the tavern hoppers as they make there way to thier source of pleasure, but his eyes are drawn upon a figure who seems to eye ever person around him with suspision.

Analdin chuckles lightly, yet humorlessly, as though his good humor disapeared with his smile not but a few minutes a ago. He follows Nials's gaze with interest, catching sight of the figure but dismissing it quietly, turning back to the young man, "You sound a bit absent, Nials..." he mentions almost offhand, though there is a subtle hint of questioning in his voice.

Turning his gaze from the man, Nials smiles, "Just have a lot on my mind lately," the young lord replies, "Alot has happened in my life this past month or so, and I am still trying to settle from it."

Nodding quietly, the young officer stifles the beginning of a yawn, looking almost longingly at the Gates, "Perfectly understandable." With a look over Nials, he waves towards the Gates, "Perhaps I ought let you get on up to the Prince's place and that letter which may be waiting for you... It would seem you aren't in the mood for conversation, or won't be until that's off your mind."

Sighing slightly, Nials looks into the blue eyes of the Lt., "That is only if it is there," squinting a moment as he thinks something through, the young lord nods slightly then speaks silently, "Lt. Analdin, I trust that you have spoken with Lord Boromir about the Prince's business?"

Analdin casts the young lord a questioning glance, shaking his head slowly, "No... The Lord Boromir has been busy in the Citadel almost since his arrival, and hasn't made it a point to speak to those such as myself yet." His tone changes slightly, a hint of amusement touching it as he adds, "Though I have spoken with a number of people regarding the Prince's buisness which, I have been told quite often, is absolutly none of my own."

Torelin comes up from the inns to the south, following a narrow dirt track.
Torelin has arrived.

Nials nods slightly, "I guess you are right about that Lt."

Analdin shakes his head slowly, making a valiant attempt to keep the laughter from his voice, "Nials, perhaps you don't understand... Though they may say that, they are the lords nearer the Citadel than I. I was rather hoping to get more information out of one I know somewhat better." His eyes shine brightly, and a hint of a smile touches his face.

Torelin walks slowly up the street, and despite the rain, seems uninterested in wearing his hood. He walks like a man who has been either drinking or just had a good evening.

"I would tell you what I know my friend," the young lord replies, "but not out in the open like this." Glancing once again at the crowd, Nials gasp slightly at the approach of Torelin.

Slight smile disapearing at Nials's words, the young officer nods quietly, letting out a light sigh, "Perhaps some other time, then." is his short reply. Following the lord's gaze, he catches sight of a man wearing his cloak tight against the rain, yet recognition shines in his eyes.

Torelin continues up the path and as the distance deteriorates a smile can be seen on his face. His leather boots clack on the stones as he makes his way toward the gates and out of the rain.

"Well I see the dead still continue to walk," Nials says as he steps in the path of the supposedly dead man, "though you seem to be most lively tonight for one of the undead." The young lords eyes trace the figure of the man who so long ago had cause so many problems.

Analdin takes a step from the Gates, moving away from the small shelter of the large stone wall to his back. He stops right near Torelin, keeping his silence, though a touch of confused questioning lights in his eyes as he watches the cloaked man, watching the beginning of the exchange between him and Nials.

Torelin stops in his tracks as Nials addresses him. "Good evening Nials," he says amiably, "or should I say Lord Nials...I was just about to find some people here in Minas Tirith. Perhaps you have seen Analdin about?"

Watching the man in front of him, Nials eyes begin to harden. Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, the young lords' face flat and uncaring, "Twice you have left me for dead, Torelin," his voice comes from within clenched teeth, "Once here in the city, and again on the docks of Dol Amroth. For this I should draw my steel and fight thee." Turning and laying his gaze upon Analdin, the young squire smiles wickedly, "Or I could just forget the whole thing and attempt to mend this rift between us." his words ring from his mouth as he turns once again to look upon Torelin.

Analdin keeps his silence a while longer, long enough to hear Nials mention drawing steel, at which point he places a hand on the hilt of his own blade, "Draw your steel here, Nials," he says, tone completly changed from that of a friend meeting friend to that of an officer of the Guard, a touch of command in his voice, "And I shall personally escort both you and... Torelin? If this truely is him, the man we all believed dead, to a cozy cell. Or, at the very least, report you to the Prince and give my complaint of disturbance of the peace on my watch."

Torelin smiles and moves his cloak so that his axe can be seen. He bows and continuing to smile says, "Nials, it would not serve either of us to duel unless we have good reason. I am heir to Tarnost and you heir to much more. What is in the past can stay there. Does that suit you well enough, Commander?" He steps forward and offers his hand. "It is indeed me...the guard who nearly killed himself charging a troll...who nearly killed you with a falling tree?" He laughs loudly, his voice bouncing down the street and fading into the falling rain.

Drawing his hand away from the hilt of his blade, Nials smiles, "Then so be it," turning to the Lt., the young Lord explains, "I had to see if the months had lessened the hate that Torelin and I bore for each other," looking down at the Leiutenants' hand as it rest upon the hilt of his own sword, "I had no intention of fighting Torelin, again."

Continuing on with his sharp words, Analdin looks both the men over once more before removing his own hand from the hilt of his sword, "I give little care who you would be fighting, Nials, so much as that you would. Arguments can be resolved elsewhere. Outside the Gates is not the place for any fighting, unless there was an attack on the city." Lecture given, the young officer looks Torelin over thoroughly before speaking to him, his tone softening a bit. "Last I heard you were a dead man, and now you come back claiming heirship of Tarnost? Perhaps I ought try dying sometime..." The fleeting smile once more touches his lips, and he clasps Torelin's hand with his own, "'Tis good to see you again, Torelin, alive."

Torelin nods and his eyes smile. "It is good to see you as well. I would not recommend it, sir." he says, old titles coming to him subconsciously, "The road to here has been rather dark and unpleasant. I was coming to find you actually. I could not leave Minas Tirith without talking to you once more."

Paying no attention to either of them, Nials places his hand upon his swords' hilt drawing the blade slowly from it's sheathe, "Torelin, draw your weapon, cross blades with me, and swear with me that all in the past is forgiven and forgotten."

Nials draws his blade, Silme-Raana from it's sheathe with a steely ring filling the air as the blade is wielded.

Analdin's gloved hand returns to his blade's hilt, eyes sharpening almost on reflex at Nials's move in drawing his sword. He nods at Torelin's words, saying quietly, "Maybe I ought stick to living, then. It has done well enough for me as it is... But I would like to hear your tale sometime, Torelin, if we have the chance before you leave."

Long distance to Nials: Analdin is going to give you that +train right now, before you have to go, and while you conveniently have your sword drawn. :)

Torelin turns to Nials once more and chuckles. "We leave this place to become all formal dont we...sometimes I forget that I was born here and was raised by a man who prefered ale to wine." He again smiles and draws his axe, placing it beside Nials' sword. "Forgiven and forgotten..." he says soberly.

Nodding, Nials repeates "Forgiven and forgotten." Placing his sword back in it's sheathe, the young lord bows politely to them both, "Now if you will excuse me, I will be on my way." Looking at Analdin, "Meet me later and we shall discuss this thing you wish to know about Lt." With these words said, the young Lord of Calanros turns and makes his way through the gates.

Analdin nods to Nials as he turns to depart, relaxing finally as one of the potential combatants is no longer in a position to disturb the peace before the Gates. Allowing his posture to relax some as well, making the transition once more from acting the part of the Guardsman to that of simply being there, taking no part in the crowd. "Ale to wine?" he questions Torelin's words, muttering to himself, "Cider's the best of the lot."

Torelin turns back to Analdin as the new Lord exits through the enormous gates of Minas Tirith. He continues to grin as he motions to the shelter of the rock and wall. "True, sir. Cider is by far the best." He walks forward and continues to speak, his voice mirthful despite the inclement weather. "You have not changed much have you?" he says, laughing.

Catching Torelin's motion towards the wall, Analdin heads in the direction of the large wall surrounding the city, his footsteps on the paving stones not making much sound except when he steps into one of the many puddles beginning to form from the rainstorm. "Not so much as you and Nials there appear to have," he replies quietly to the former guardsman, "The Gates still require guarding, there are beats to be walked, reports to write, healers to beat off.. the buisness of the Guard as normal. Tell me now," he adds, stopping beside the wall, "What brings you back to Minas Tirith? I can save the other questions for later, if you have not the time."

Torelin motions with his hand indicating that Analdin's questions are fine. "I am on an errand for the Prince along with the other knights of Amroth. We seek a prize however I do not understand its importance nor does anyone seem to feel I should know." He shrugs and continues on, "After all the death I have seen now I don't have much desire to walk straight into the land of shadow."

An errand for the Prince.." Analdin seems to consider it a moment, "That I have heard of, and have questioned about... but no one seems to wish to tell me any more than what you have just this moment." he leans against the wall, allowing his back to rest against the cool, damp stone. His gaze tends to wander towards the crowd, watching it, yet with only very little interest, "Could I get you to tell me about your 'death,' or is that too much information for a simple Lieutenant as well?" A touch of distain enters his voice.

Torelin nods and frowns. "I do wish I knew more to tell you, sir. Getting information from Lord Beladan is like getting blood from a stone. My 'death'? While I did not die in body, I did in spirit. After the night I attacked Nials I could not find the will to live. Lord Beladan took me away from here and I tried to find some peace." He looks about him at the walls wet with rain and then out to the road that leads off into Gondor. "I have missed this place...more than I think you can imagine."

Analdin nods quietly, keeping his silence a few long moments before muttering, "Getting anything from Lord Beladan except angry words is like getting blood from a stone." The words are said quietly, with a disgusted tone, but he adds a bit louder and in more friendly a voice, "The city does have something of a magnitism, I might say, for when on campaign, I find myself longing for it... Though I know when I shall return." He places a hand lightly on Torelin's shoulder, "Welcome to Minas Tirith, Torelin, though I don't know if here you will find anything more than was here when you left."

Torelin smiles wider. "I have found exactly what I left here and am thankful for it. But, as for Beladan, perhaps we have misjudged him. Yes he is rather aloof and caustic, but I owe him life on more than one occassion. He nearly died to pull me from under the hammer of a troll." He shudders slightly and unconsciously touches his chest, still feeling phantom pain from his ribs being crushed.

Even listening to Torelin's account of his rescue in battle, Analdin gives his head a quiet shake, "Perhaps sometime I will see what you speak of in Lord Beladan, but, from the words we have exchanged, I have only seen..." he trails off, shaking his head once more, "No, I see no need to speak ill of him at the moment, or to speak of him at all, in my case. At least you have found something good here... There are many I know who have seen nothing of that kind in Minas Tirith of late."

Torelin nods again in agreement. "I have two favours to ask of you actually." He rustles about in his pouch looking intently for something."

Analdin raises a brow, "Favors?" he questions softly, eyes shining curiously, "Ask away, my friend." Still leaning against the wall, he relaxes some as he waits for Torelin to ask.

Torelin hands Analdin a purse of coins. "I could not trust anyone else to this. This is all the wealth all have and where I'm going I do not know if I shall return. Please hold onto this for me and give it to Aiesha should I not return."

Torelin +gives you a Silver Dime, 4 Silver Pennies and 68 Copper Pennies.

Analdin holds out his hand, catching hold of the purse and placing it in a pocket somewhere in his talbard, "If the men you travel with return and you do not, I shall seek her out as soon as I can. Though I do hope you come back with them..." With that, he holds up a hand, stifling a yawn, and glancing at the dark sky, then at an approaching figure, "Forgive me, Torelin, but my relief has come... 'Tis time for me to get to work in my office."

Torelin nods and lets Analdin move past him. "One more thing. My uncle left my father's axe here with you. I was wondering if you could find time to deliver it to me...I think that his spirit will help me travel."

As he begins to walk towards the Gates, Analdin turns at Torelin's final words, "Aye, 'tis in my office. He asked me to give it to you when I felt you were ready for it... I believe you are. Come by sometime." With that, he turns once more and steps off through the rain in the general direction of the barracks.