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 Currently the gate is withdrawn into its housing and the doors before it opened wide.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.

Howling winds scream as the thunderstorm suddenly increases in strength, through your wind-seared eyes, you can barely see...

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Weather:            Stormy
Time:                Late Morning <about 11 AM >
Season:              Spring
Date:               Mersday - May 23, 3015

Real Time:          Fri Sep 11 20:59:15 1998
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Torelin chuckles and as he does so, Aiesha whispers in his ear and then departs abruptly, obviously upset with Malahir's words, or lack of them. Torelin tries to continue on the conversation, pretending nothing has happened, "I was quite a handful eh? I do owe you quite an apology do I not? Had I stayed with the guard perhaps you would have personally tossed me out." He laughs and takes an available seat. "So how are you taking to being in command Malahir? It is quite a task is it not?"

The sound of loud thunder rumbles in the distance...
Louder and louder it comes...
Until, in thr driving rain, a figure on a grey and black dappled and quite soaking wet horse appears! Right before the Gates of Minas Tirith, and those standing before them, he rears his horse up onto its hind legs and tosses back the hood of his cloak. Lighting flashes at that very moment, and a face is illuminated, waiter streaming from midnight hair and into sharp, misty eyes.

Malahir casts the departing Aiesha a worried glance, but then looks back to Torelin, "Nah, Analdin and I were just testing you my friend. We knew you had more potential than you let on. I guess the real reason I feared you is you'ld take my place", he grins and titls his head, thinking about the second question, "Having this much responsibility isn't easy..I'm sure you know that sir Knight", he coughs uncomfortably as lightning strikes behind him. He turns to see the familiar horse of the guard from Ramos Echor. He says in low tones, "that's commander Ingold, please excuse me Torelin"

Ingold dismounts in a single, smooth movement, wiping the water from his face as he watches the departing figure of Torelin. "Perhaps I was a bit overdramatic?" he questions with a curious glance to the nearby Lieutenant. Shrugging, however, he lets it the matter slide before striding immediatly to the dryness of the Guardhouse. Entering it, he removes his soaking cloak of dark blue, hanging it upon a hook there to drip, and shakes his head in a dog-like manner to get the water from his hair.

Saluting the approaching commander, Malahir just stands dumbfounded as he passes him up and heads into the gatehouse. Turning around to see that Torelin has left he looks up to Ingold, "I'm not sure sir, I only said your name to him. I guess he went after his fiancee", he says nervously as he himself enters the guardhouse with Ingold and another guard that was occupying the safety of the structure.

After hanging his cloak up on the peg, he runs a hand through his short hair and levels a steady gaze at the nervous-sounding Lieutenant, "That will do things to a man." Shrugging once more, he looks out of the door and at the rain pounding on the street. There is little in the way of a crowd in this weather, and it is not but a few moments before the Commander returns his attention to Malahir. "Terrible weather for duty, is it not, Lieutenant?"

Seeing that the commander is getting comfortable, the Lieutenant does like-wise and removes his wet cape and cloak. Grabbing for a spare seat he motions toward the window, "Aye sir. Nothing like a good hard rain to wash the crowds away. Makes the job easier though I suppose", pausing awkwardly before adding, "what brings the commander in such lousy weather?".

Ingold nods in silence as Malahir speaks, though does not look at the younger officer, only down at his uniform as he straightens it from the ride. Glancing quickly out the gatehouse door, he nods in approval that his horse has been taken for stabling, most likely by one of the young boys who are the only ones out in this kind of weather. "Duty, Lieutenant. I fear a drizzle can be no excuse for not making my rounds."

Malahir nods to Ingold, alittle preoccupied with disrobing. Finally, hanging up his cloak triumphantly he turns to face the commander, "No, I guess a little fall of rain shouldn't deter our duty as guards. How goes the watch? It's a trifle boring even here".

Still looking out into the hard-falling rain, his eyes on the young 'uns there playing in the mud, the Commander shrugs, "No better than normal. Usual activity in and about Osgiliath, not much to see from the wall. Traffic a bit heavier to and from Rohan, and the southeast Gate sees much less. I was hoping to hear something while picking up reports here in the city." A young lad whips a mudball at another boy, smaller, who takes it full in the head and begins to whimper. Ingold's features tighten some small bit, and he takes a few quick steps out into the rain, his long strides bringing him close to the lad in only a few moments. After whispering a few words into the boy's ear, the officer stands, pats the young 'un on the shoulder, and returns to the guardhouse, once more soaking wet. Yet his eyes hold a bit of a smile, more so than when he first arrived.

A rather sulky figure slowly makes her way to the guardhouse from the White Tree, the hood of her cloak held close to her face. It seems a few sizes too large for her.

Malahir listens to the commander intently, but once again allows him to stray. Not paying attention when the commander exits the building, Malahir removes his helm and rests it on the table next to the private whose guardhouse he is keeping watch. Giving him a knowing smile and a shake of the head when the outspoken commander returns. Turning to face him he inquires, "Very good sir. Have you spoken to commander Analdin since last we meet?".

Ingold's misty eyes turn as a solitary figure approaches from the direction of the White Tree Inn, and he casts Malahir a curious glance, but says nothing about it. Shaking his head, he says in a casual tone, "No, Lieutenant. I fear out good Analdin has closeted himself in his office while I have been in the city. Perhaps he is simply catching up on all the work he missed." Running a hand through his relatively short hair, causing some of it to stand on end and yet he pays no more attention to it. "Has anything of worthy note happened in the city in the last week, Lieutenant? Malahir, was it not?"

Aiesha enters the guardhouse, glancing around to see if whom she was searching for was still there. Apon spotting Malahir and another, she decides that perhaps now would not be the time to interrupt, and slowly backs out of the doorway.

Malahir nods his head at the short haired commander, "Aye sir. You have a good memory indeed. And fortunately, there isn't anything disconcerning to report. All good news actually", he around the taller man's build and notices Aiesha waiting patiently outside. He motions for her to come in and asks Ingold politely, "Do you mind if a good friend of mine join us. It's the only dry place for a conversation", he smirks.

Ingold glances sideways and watches the figure begin to back away. No expression touching his face save the calm hint of a smile that is his norm, the officer swirls to face the cloaked one. "Was there something we could perhaps help you with..." he trails off, glancing down at the trouser legs just over the boots on the figure. "sir?" Tilting his head head at Malahir's words, he shrugs, "Not a bit, my good Lieutenant." He casts a warm smile to the cloaked figure. "Please, come out of the wet. 'Tis miserable weather, today."

Aiesha smiles gratefully, stepping into the guardroom, and moving the hood from her face. "So I've noticed," she says quietly, casting an apologetic look in Malahir's direction. "I just hope the weather isn't like this at the tourney!"

Malahir catches his friends glance and gives her a nod. Exclaiming forcefully, he motions to the healess, "Commander Ingold sir. This is my old friend Aiesha. Lady healess, and betrothed so I hear", he glides to stand beside Aiesha and wink, "And Aiesha, may I present to you Commander Ingold, of Rammas Echor".

Taking a well-hidden yet obviously startled step back as Aiesha pulls the cloak away from her face, the Commander gives a smooth, courtly, and well-polished bow, "Well, good day to you, m'lady. Forgive me, but your appearance was... misleading. Please, come in, the rain is no place to stand about. 'Tis not often we see one of such beauty as yourself on the wall, you know." Glancing up to Malahir, he winks, "And you, sir, are lucky to have such a friend. I take it that was her betrothed as slinked away when I rode up? And," he peers with an almost worried look at the Lieutenant, "Are you positive 'twas not me as drove him off? I did not plan the lightening, you know, but 'twas a nice effect." He casts Aiesha an easy grin.

"Nice to meet you, Commander," Aiesha says with a broad grin. "If that was Torelin you were talking about, than I'm sure it wasn't you who drove him off!" She shakes her head, turning to Malahir. "I really do apologise for my earlier behaviour, Malahir.....I don't know where it came from."

Malahir takes a step away from Aiesha, he bows graciously, "Nah Aiesha. I must apoligize for my behavior. I meant you know offense, being so up front with you in front of Torelin", he returns the hug from when they just meet under the gates, "I'm happy for you Aiesha", he says over her shoulder. Returning to speak with the present company, he eyes Ingold, "Torelin, Aiesha and I go way back sir. We've always had our ups and downs".

Ingold stands an extra step away from the two. For all his rank and age, he appears a bit nervous in Aiesha's company, perhaps more so with Malahir standing so near her. Clearing his throat, he nods politely, "I am certain you have. Tell me, m'Lady Aiesha," he pauses a moment to cast a stray glance outside, keeping his eyes on the rain as he speaks, "Has there been any news in the Houses of late? Anything of import that may be of use to an old soldier?"

Aiesha is now all smiles, and laughs at the commander. "One is only as old as one feels," she grins. "All is mostly quiet in the Houses, though I have had.....other things on my mind of late. All news I may have is probably stale by now." She doesn't seem to notice the Commander's discomfiture. She, too, soon peers outside. She sighs. "I hate rain. It's depressing," she mumbles.

Malahir looks onto Ingold curiously, sensing what can be assumed as his discomfort. He awaits his turn to jump in the conversation, "Commander, I have a bit of good news", he turns to Aiesha as well, "I'm sure you've heard the news right. I was at the guild meeting last night and you'll never guess what news from the land riders of the mark! We have made a progressive trade agreement with the Rohir. Why isn't that wonderful?". He seems so amused his grin is toothy and quite goofy to look at,

Having just rained, the dirt road you are on has turned into a long, miserable stream of mud running down between the buildings and joining the main inn road.

Though he nods in agreement with Aiesha about the rain, a hint of a sigh escaping him, Ingold brightens visibly as Malahir mentions good news. Yet, as the good news pertains to the trade guilds, he winces and nearly rolls his eyes. Only military decorum keeps him from the act. "'Tis good to know, Lieutenant," he speaks slowly, his words chosen carefully. "Definitly good to know when more people will be coming through the northeast gate." Eyes straying once more to the boys playing in the heavy rain outside, the Commander heaves another sigh and tilts his head towards Aiesha, "Do you, also, attend the trade meetings, m'Lady? Am I the only uncultured and uncouth one amongst us?" Even as he utters it, his langues proves he is quite otherwise.

The private, who was content on listening to the companions, stifles a yawn upon Malahir's tale. He rises and barges inbetween Malahir and Ingold, "Excuse me sirs, I believe the gate keepers are calling me", and he excuses himself with a rush into the pouring rain.

Aiesha's jaw tightens slightly, her face going a little pale. "That's wonderful news....so I guess that means the merchants are back.......?" she trails off, making it a question at the last minute. She fidgets with the hem of her borrowed cloak, when Ingold speaks to her. "I am employed to a merchant, Commander...attending the trade meetings is /supposed/ to be part of my job." At this, she rubs a frustrated hand through her hair. "Though, as I said before, I've had other things to attend to lately........and I did not attend this particular meeting."

Malahir steps aside to allow the private of his company go, but not before allowing him to overhear, "You know commander, I heard no such call from the gate keepers", sighing he turns to Aiesha, "Aye, the news seems to have gotten out. The merchants have not returned to Minas Tirith as of yet, the guild will no doubt welcome them with great exuberance indeed. I believe the runners from distant towns ran the messages of the success to be read at yesterdays meetings. Very swell news for all of gondor!", he exclaims excitedly.

Ingold gives the hurried Private a wink as he runs out, and shrugs at Malahir's words, "I heard only the rain. Perhaps the boys simply have better hearing. They tend to know when someone is calling them. A good thing too," he raises his voice a bit so that some outside could yet hear him through the rain, "Else we would have a number less Guardsmen due to bad health conditions." Leaning back against the doorframe, resting, he looks down at the Lieutenant and Healess, falling silent for a few long moments during which the only sound to be heard is the patter of hard rain and the shouts of young boys.

Aiesha laughs, a rather forced sound. "Aye, and when they do arrive, my boss is going to have my head!!" A sigh escapes her lips. "Perhaps you forget that I, too, had set off for Rohan? And you may also recall the reason for my sudden departure?" She chuckles, grimly. "I'm in trouble...again!"

Malahir shakes his head and chuckles, "Aiesha my dear, when have you ever been out of trouble?", he winks to her and straitens up his tabard, stressing the serious tone of his voice now, "I believe Arax should be arriving any day now. The guards have been notified that his return is imminent, and that we should notify Lord Boromir at first sign of the caravan. What was your business in Rohan may I ask Lady Aiesha?".

Looking Aiehsa over with something of a measuring eye, a look to him that tells of years of judging people's spirit, a smile comes to the Commander's face. "From what I have heard so far, m'Lady, I doubt many would suspect you to be in anything else." Taking an obvious step back and away from the Healess, he grins and winks before answering Malahir's comments, "Word shall be sent when he reaches the Rammas Echor, if he takes the north road."

Aiesha lifts an amused eyebrow up at Malahir, an easy laugh coming from her lips. "All the better! Arax just happens to be my boss!" She sighs and shakes her head again. "If my mother hadn't named me Aiesha, it would've been trouble! Sometimes I think Trouble would've suited me better."

Malahir stifles a laugh but lets his amusement of the statement show, "I dare say Aiesha, you do have a nose for trouble! I'm sure your boss will allow you time to get engaged", he smirks as he looks over to Ingold, "Aye, I'm sure to get the word from the northern gates. I'm actually kind of worried they haven't seen anything yet", he says in low tones to the commander.

Ingold's whole figure seems to relax at the mention of Trouble, and he gives a short bow, "I know you not well, m'Lady, but it would seem your friend Trouble doth follow you often. Perhaps we are of the same blood in some way, for I could have been as fast promoted as your friend the Lieutenant, had a few... shall we call them, experiences? not happened to have befallen me and a fellow Corporal many years ago." He grins widely, obviously proud of his accomplishments... The troublesome kind, at the least. "You will hear word, Lieutenant," he suddenly becomes solemn, "My men have sharp eyes. They would have seen him had he come."

Aiesha laughs. "Arax will get here, even if it is only to wring my neck!"

No longer laughing, the pessimism of Malahir begins to weigh him down, "But what if they were ambushed? The Silver guard isn't as strong as they should be in my oppinion. Why, we have half the important men in the city in that caravan, and not a one of the best soldiers guarding them", he huffs and glances at Ingold and Aiesha worriedly, "It's the fact that we haven't seen a sign of his arrival that I'm worried about. What do you think commander?".

Leaning back once more against the door, Ingold shakes his head, expression the epitomy of confidence. "I have friends amongst the Silver Guard, Lieutenant. Some who have gone with that caravan. If they are ambushed, they may well die and never return to the city." He says this calmly, without batting an eyelid. "I think that until they arrive, you had better stick to your own duties and not worry over them. What happens happens, Lieutenant," his voice grows steadier and much sterner as he looks the younger - and shorter - man in the eye, "And we can only do so much about it. Is that understood?"

Aiesha laughs at both men. "Whatever happens happens," she states with a shrug. "If they get ambushed, they may die. If they get back here," she grins, "then I may be the one who dies!"

Malahir resigns to the confident Commander of the wall, knowing that he possesses certain wisedom in his words, "You are right sir. I'm just overly concerned", turning to smile at Aiesha, "Very well said lady healess, perhaps you will need guarding of your own", he asks wryly.

Ingold's sterness fades away so quickly that it may never have been there at all, but the smooth confidence in his expression remains. He chuckles lightly, "Then I hope, for your sake m'Lady, that you are here when my messenger brings word of their arrival through the Rammas Echor. That gate is only four leagues from this. An hour's ride for myself, when the horse goes slowly. Perhaps two for a caravan." Turning to the Lieutenant, Ingold speaks once more, "As for you, Mala.. hir, was it? Keep your concern out of your work. Relax... The Silver Guard will do what needs doing."

Aiesha grins cheekily in Malahir's direction. "If you're volunteering, Malahir," she teases. "I'd be glad to hide behind you when the time comes!"

Malahir nods official looking to Ingold, "there is no doubt I will do the best of my ability when the time comes. That remains my only concern sir", slipping a pat to Aiesha's back, "Shame on you m'lady. You know I'm not allowed outside the city gates", he winks slyly and attempts to look charming.

Ingold casts a curiouse glance outside the gatehouse and into the rain, at the Gate just a few yards off, then at Malahir, and back once more to the Gates. His brows wrinkle together as if in confusion, "Has a new set of orders come that no Guardsman is to be allowed outside the Gates? And yet you hold position here? I shall never understand the workings of the city." he shakes his head and trails off, mumbling to himself like a crazy man.

Aiesha giggles. "And I suppose you were ordered to follow me to Rohan, taking Lt. Analdin's young brother with you?" she chortles. "That seems like half a lifetime ago now," she muses. She grins at Ingold. "I must be getting old!"

Malahir glares at the man who now mumbles, "Sir, you should know that I dare not stray from the city without direct orders to. Guards must have something to guard do we not? Am I under false pretense that we should guard the city and not some line in the sand?", not ignoring Aiesha and her recollection of his trip to Rohan with Analdin's brother but never-the-less trying to avoid the time he was derilect of duty, "Not now Aiesha", he hisses.

A dark brow rises as Ingold pays more attention to Aiesha's story than Malahir obviously does. "Left the city without orders? And with Analdin's brother? The man let you? Last I heard, he was so protective of that boy he made him a drummer lad." The Commander gives a light shrug, "But 'tis no buisness of mine. You, however, Lieutenant," he stresses the rank, though very lightly, "have left the city already. Should I report you, then, for being outside the Gates? Or for going to the taverns out here?"

Aiesha barely manages to keep her laughter under control, laughter coming from some memory and from Malahir's words. "I'll remember not to knock down the Lt.'s brother from several feet away next time," she giggles, almost bursting with laughter. At the word report, the young woman almost chokes. "Oh, don't do that!" she squeaks, looking mighty guilty for opening her mouth at all.

Malahir sighs, seeing that he is on the losing end of the battle of words and rank, "No commander. I do not call an occational frequencing of the inn as a matter of security breach. What I implied is that if I did not return back to my company, I'd have utter chaos on my hands", sensing a turn of the conversation he jumps at the chance to change the subject, "Ah yes, you were looking for a report were you not Commander, I can have one made out for you on the state of our watch?", he asks pleasantly.

Ingold's other brow rises, and he looks with surprise at the Healess, "Knock him down from several feet away? Quite an impressive feat, m'Lady." Yet he does not allow Malahir to change the subject so easily. "I see," he says dryly, nodding his head as his brows lower into their normal position. "Analdin could leave his company for a year to go off searching for a helm, and you cannot leave it but a few hours without it falling into chaos? I suggest, Lieutenant, that when things seem such, it is time to beg your officer for a time of leave."

Aiesha blushes, though she nods in agreement with the commander's words. "You work too hard," she mumbles, playfully punching Malahir on the arm. "Go on a vacation!"

Malahir tries to hide his anger, but his flushed face is clearly seen, "Sir. How dare you presume such things. Commander, your rank does not given the right to make judgements of my ability, nor Commander Analdin's, if that's what your getting at sir. Is there something you would like to say to me about the way I run my company? You better come out with it and fast", his tempor becoming the better of him, he can't face his caring friend Aiesha in the face and doesn't turn to respond to her.

Ingold keeps his calm, an amused look touching his face as Malahir turns red. "I am saying nothing about your ability to command, nor about Analdin's. I have only the highest respect for, if some slight reservations about, men so young at such ranks. But, Lieutenant, I will pass judgement on a man when I think he is working too hard. And you, sir," he points a finger almost lazily at Malahir, "Are one of those men. Will you lose your temper at me for telling you to relax, Lieutenant? I make no orders, my men are on the Rammas Echor. But you defend the city behind me, and are therefore of my concern. Rest, man!"

Noticing herself being ignored, the young woman rolls her eyes, as if to say, "here we go again". Instead of doing a repeat performance and storming off, she simply waits until her friend is ready to acknowledge her, nodding when the Commander speaks.

Malahir paces hurridly now, looking at Ingold every time he passes him, "Rest? Did you say rest?", he passes Aiesha once and scoffs, "He said rest!". He stops after formulating a return, "Commander, I do not judge you. But praytell, how can you take this job too seriously?", he asks simply.

As day turns into night in the red sky, and the pale slit of the moon's bow launches its watchful serenade on the people of Minas Tirith, it happens to cast its weak whiteness on one man that steps softly out of the gates, glinting of his armour, off his helm, off the hilt of his sheathed sword. The man breathes the night air deeply, and brushes a hand briefly through his light-brown hair, and sighs. He takes steps out into the yard before the gates, stops with a slight click of his heels, and surveys who is residing there. Walking casually towards one of the numerous wagons, he listens to the conversation silently. For now.

Ingold stretches his arms out in front of him, shaking his head at Malahir and stifling a yawn. Looking about the empty guardhouse in which they three stand, the rain falling heavily outside, the Commander finally places a firm hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder to keep hom from pacing. He casts Aiesha a glance and rolls his eyes with a nod in Malahir's direction... all of which, put together, appears almost comical. "Lieutenant," he snaps in a very un-comical way. "Yes. I said rest. Rest, when you lie down in a bed, close your eyes, and sleep. Rest. Relax. Understand? No one does. They all work themselves to death and hope to be alive for the next battle." Pausing a moment, as if frusterated yet with no hint of it in his visage, the Commander utters finally, "I can make it an order if needs be, or just report it to your officer, but if I find you working as hard as Analdin is a legend for..." he trails off.

The sound of chainmail clinking softly, a steady pattern that bounces off the streets and buildings outside the great gates of Minas Tirith can be heard as a knight of Dol Amroth once again finds himself nearing the guardhouse. Noticably absent is his bride-to-be, who has been at his side without fail for many weeks now. He looks about him in obvious search--most likely for a lovely, if not rather flighty, Aiesha.

The young guardsman, wearing the silver stripe of a corporal, suddenly feels the pitter .. patter ... of the rain as it begins to seep from the clouds above like some forlorn goddess yearning for the spring. He sighs ocne more, pulls his cloak tighter about himself, and takes the eleven-and-a-half steps required of his stride to reach the guardhouse. He opens the door, steps in, turns, closes the door behind him, turns, removes the clasp of his cloak, and throws it on a hook, and takes three more steps in. He flexes his shoulders slightly as his eyes accustom to the lantern-light, and he recognises the two faces within. He draws his feet together in the alert position, raises his head, and salutes smartly the two men, Ingold first, and then Lieutenant Malahir. He emits a brief smile, and then waits in his alert form.

Malahir cranes his neck to look Ingold square in the face, "I will rest when I'm good and ready to sir, I do not need to be ordered rest", he calmly settles back down and is thankfully interupted by Corporal Meldar, and he salutes him back smartly, "Ah..Corporal Meldar. Have you had the pleasure of meeting Commander Ingold?", he asks with a slight bit of sarcasm.

Thoughts obviously occupied for the moment, the Commander frowns at Malahirs words and shakes his head with a hopeless look on his face. Turning as another enters the guardhouse, Ingold inclines his head, returning the salute much more loosely and relaxedly. "Corporal." he says simply, in greeting, though... after a few minutes of silence he speaks once more in Meldar's direction, "Please, Corporal, as one level-headed man to another, tell me that not all the officers of the city are like this one." He motions in Malahir's direction with his head.

Meldar acknowledges the salute of the Lieutenant, and then stands to the ease, placing his hands behind his back and placing his feet a foot apart on the floor. He turns towards Commander Ingols. "Good evening, sirs," he says. "Commander Ingold, a pleasure to meet you sir. We have not met, although your reputation preceeds you, sir." He smiles, and turns his head to Malahir. "Sir," he says, slightly lowering his eyebrows, "has anything been interesting enough to report here this evening?"

Aiesha turns as another guardsman enters the guardroom, then looks past him and spots a very familiar knight in clinking chainmail coming near. She grins, and steps closer to the doorway to greet him as he enters, leaving the guards and their superiors to discuss for the moment.

Meldar turns sloqly to Ingold as the question is asked. After a pause, he tactfully answers: "There are very few like Lieutenant Malahir, sir." Thereb is no hint of sarcasm or irony in his voice. It is, one might say, matter-of-fact.

Little time is wasted in Torelin's steps to reach where he last saw his fiance and as he half-steps into the guardhouse to spy a crowd of guards. The look on his face could be read as, "Either there are too many guards in Minas Tirith or they don't have enough to do." Seeing Aiesha at the entrance he bows deeply and without a word he makes a smile that only perhaps she could truely read.

A relaxed smile appears on his face as Meldar reports so eliquently. He nods to him once, "Only the good commander here Corporal. Other than that, I turn the gates over to your proud company of the white tree with little to report. The rain seems to have calmed things down quite a bit", overseeing Aiesha leave, "although Meldar, do you remember Torelin, formerly of the silver ship?", his side glance is shot to Ingold like a dagger.

Ingold heaves a sigh almost of relief, shoulders shaking with a silent chuckle. "A good thing it is, then. My officers, when I was young as you two, were a strict and hard-working lot. But they did know, and remember this Corporal, for 'tis important, when and how to rest. Unlike some of the ranking men today." With that he tosses Malahir a very hopeless look and turns as the door to the gatehouse opens again, admitting a man overly-armored. Muttering something goodnaturedly, he slides around the walls of the Gatehouse, his thin form appearing almost to glide, until he comes to stand beside the door. His face is a mask of utter calm, and an amused smile plays on his lips.

Aiesha laughs and hugs her fiance impulsively, looking slightly awkward, as he is much taller than her. "I was wondering when you'd show up," she giggles, all smiles once again.

Meldar steps closer to Malahir, and smiles at what Ingold says, but lets the great Commander of The Fields step towards the door. He stands alongside Malahir. Although the other is strictly his commanding officer, they were corporals together for quite a while, and thus struck up a friendship. He does not turn to look at Torelin - from the corner of his eye he realised that he had come in. He nods as Malahir speaks. "Torelin ... ah yes, the guardsman who was attacked at the White Tree Inn for some romantic bi-representation or other, by some other envious guardsman. The latter was dismissed and now resides on the coast, and the former removed hismelf from his position in our ranks to join the legion of The Swan. Am I correct?" He raises his eyebrows in question.

Once he has received his hug from his always impetuous, ever grinning, fiance, Torelin bows yet again (he must be used to it by now living in Dol Amroth-the land of "chivalry"). He grins to match his bride-to-be and clears his throat, "Yes, indeed. I am the very same you speak of Meldar."

Ingold nods his head slightly at Meldar's explanation, "Approximatly, yes. Though I do believe there was a trial and court martial involved, from the reports. But 'twas a confusing matter and," he glances at Torelin, "I prefer not to involve myself in such. You, sir," he turns to Torelin as he speaks, giving a bow with much flourish, "Must be this lovely lady's betrothed. I congratulate you... If you are also the man who so narrowly escaped a lynching, I do so doubly."

Malahir nods as his friend the corporal retells the tale, "Aye Meldar. That is he. And lo! He returns with his bride to be. Shushh. Oh drats", he curses softly as it is too late and Torelin has admitted overhearing the conversation. Blushing now, the tall guardsmen makes himself invisible in the corner of the small gatehouse, inching himself to the doorway.

A loud belch is the only warning which the men in the guardhouse recieve, and then a monstrous figure comes barelling into the room through the still open door. Fully seven feet from the crown of his bald pate to his toes, and of enormous girth, a pair of small, gleaming bloodshot eyes peer out from between folds of flesh which hang loosely on his face. He stumbles as he enters, his step none too steady, and slams into the lone man who stands by the door before changing course to literally fall on the armoured man who stands beside the lady. Blurred eyes squint suspiciously at those gathered before he turns to the man who had been unfortunate enough to be in his path. A coarse voice rumbles from deep within his chest as he speaks in a belligerent tone, "Watch where your going, laddie!"

Meldar smiles as Malahir tries to hide himself in a small crack in the wall, and he turns with a short bow to the fair lady and her fiance. "My cingratulations, madam, sir," he says with a courteous smile. "When is the wedding to b -" He is rudely interrupted by a caffuffle near the door. He frowns.

Aiesha spies Malahir trying to make himself invisible, and laughs, having heard the conversation as well. She is about to comment when a rotund old drunk practically falls onto her husband-to-be. "He wasn't /going/ anywhere, old man," she retorts icily, "...you were doing the moving!"

Torelin fully steps into the room and smiles to Ingold, he face remarkably calm for one who has, as the commander so eloquently stated, nearly escaped a lynching. Before he has time to say a word he is nearly toppled by a man even larger than himself. He moves Aiesha out of the way of the stranger but does nothing else but watch the guards do their job. To Aiesha he takes hold of her hand and squeezing it, indicates that he is fine and to let it go.

Nearing the doorway inch by inch, the Lieutenant is rudely pushed aside to make way for the ignominous entrance. Seeing that Ingold got the brunt of the drunk man's blow, he awaits impatiently for his turn to chastise the man.

A loud curse can be heard from the calm one by the door as a large man, taller than the tallest in the room by half a foot, come barreling through the door. Yet years of training are not forgotten, and the Commander moves swiftly to stay out of the way of further damage. He holds up a hand at Aiesha's icy comment, sniffing the air with no extra expression. "Drunk." he says quite loudly, and sharply, "Why would a man do that to himself at this hour?" this is in a softer tone, but just as sharp. The man of perfect relaxedness beforehand is now the soldier he does not appear at first glance, taking up a stance right before the old one. "Now tell me, sir, what right you have barging into the watch house of the Minas Tirith Guard? A complaint?"

Meldar shakes his head and frowns at this drunken oaf who has just burst into a semi-privatised room. He leans on a chair, and places a hand on his sword - just in the possibility that it will erupt into an argument. Even so, he guesses that this is just a man who has enjoyed himself too much at the Inn, and will be uickly dispensed of in the usual manner.

Aiesha stands closer to Torelin, smiling up at him. When she turns her eyes back to the large drunk, she can barely keep the disgust from her face. Though her fiance's gesture told her to let it be, she finds she can not do so quickly. It is obvious that she has little like or respect for those that lose themselves in alcohol.

A befuddled expression passes over the face of the man as he is confronted by the Commander. "Guardhouse?", he mumbles, and seems to ponder over this for a few moments before the lady's words penetrate his dazed wits. With a roar, he turns and thrusts his face into hers, fumes of stale ale emanating from his open mouth, "Old? Who do you call old, wench?"

Aiesha wrinkles her nose as the scent of stale ale assails her. Her eyes become bright with instant anger. "In case your fogged-up mind didn't register the fact, good /sir/," she snaps, "..t'was you who I called old!" She tosses her head back, in both anger and as an excuse to get some fresh air.

Very few, when looking at Torelin's size, can estimate his speed; however, it is barely a second after the drunken man has yelled at Aiesha, before his hands are upon the man's back and with considerable strength starts pulling him away from the woman and starts moving to send him out the door.

Ingold's expression tightens, and he grabs the drunk's collar in unison with the Knight and pulls him back a step with a nod to Torelin. "'Tis enough! This, man, is no place for one of your kind, neither is it a place where I will tolerate the insulting of lovely young ladies. You, sir," he pokes Tarian in the chest with a long, thin finger, "Will either leave of your own accord, or be ecorted by the Guardsmen to the jail on the First Tier."

Darting his eyes to Torelin after the man's swarthy comment, Malahir takes it upon himself to address the gatehouse, "See here! There will be order at this post or so help me the jail cells will be full tonight!", awaiting for calm, then continueing, "Listen up gentlemen", bowing to Aiesha, "Lady, will you please wait outside", turning to Commander Ingold, "Sir, a quick word with you", he gets his attention "I shall yield to the superior officer if you so wish, yet, how many bar fights have you been in walking your wall?".

Ingold releases his grip on the drunken man's collar, settling himself against the door to prevent him from moving outside without escort. "Lieutenant," he says in an unusually cold voice, "When I was a lad as you, I started more brawls than I broke up. Do not insult my position, nor my rank, or you shall hear of it from your own commander - and me as well." Yet his eyes do not leave Tarian as he speaks.

Torelin returns Silvalrist to his belt and latches it firmly in place on his hip.

An expression of startlement passes over the drunk's face as he seized from two directions and pulled towards the door. He loses his balance, stumbling for a moment once again, before he regains his balance as one of the men relinquishes his glee. Abruptly, an expression of glee passes over his face, and he chortles merrily as he turns to the man who still has his hand upon his collar, "Would you care to try that again, laddie?"

Meldar sighs from his retreated position, although he could advance at any moment and try and take control of the situation, but he feels it pointless. He frowns as he sees the two commanding officers arguing. He speaks. "Sirs, may I suggest that we deal with this drunkard first and then return to your previous discussion thread?" He steps forward. "My good friend," he says, addressing Tarian without a smile, "get out of this room now, and tomorrow I will buy you ten pints of beer at the alehouse." He adds, leaning forward slightly, "That's a promise."

Placing her hands on her hips, Aiesha glares at the drunken man with disgust, but can't help but smile as her fiance leaps to her defence. She grins at him, her features stating, 'I could get used to this!' As the drunken man speaks again, she casts an apprehensive look at him. "I smell trouble," she mumbles. "And I know Trouble well enough, if anyone here does!"

Malahir tilts his head, "Sir, I am at your disposal then. But I warn you, back up your rank with action to this menace, not idle threats on my behalf", and he glances back at Meldar. Standing his ground, the Lieutenant grabs a hold of the drunk man's other arm, but remains quite.

Ingold casts Meldar a cool glance and a nod, "Aye, the Corporal has a point, Lieutenant." Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword with the cold assurance of a master of the blade, the Commander steps around to stand in the middle of the room and the middle of the crowd. He glares around the room at all those who speak at the same time, mouth coming to a tight line. Yet he makes no move, only moves his hard look from one person to another.

Torelin eyes the drunk, then turns his attention briefly to Meldar. With his hand still gripping the collar of the Tarian's shirt, he shakes his head and frowns, "Do not force me to teach you a lesson, sir. Do as the gentlemen say and we will let it go." With that he lets the man go but he remains in his place, not allowing any weakness to show.

Aiesha falls silent, having said her piece, for now. She glares once more at the drunk, then sniffs disdainfully, letting most of the matter drop, for the moment. She moves closer to her fiance.

At the mention of the word 'ale', the massive man turns instantly, face beaming as he opens his mouth to address the man who has made this generous offer, only to swing back again as Torelin speaks, an expression of profound disappointment passing over his face at he hears his words. He peers at him, tone reproachful as he says, "Be you afeared then, laddie?" Even as he speaks, he casually shakes his hand free from Malahir's grasp, and shoots him a threatening glance from under bushy eyebrows, "Stay out of this, little man", is all he says, before turning back.

Malahir casts Torelin an approving look, he seems to thank the man for obeying his original call for order with a slight smile. He grabs for and tightens his hold on Tarian and mutters, "Be on your best behavior and you'll even stay out of prison tonight...laddie", he mocks

Meldar smiles as he seems to have attracted the great man's attention. He steps forward, his voice persuasive and mellow. "Yes," he says, "ale. Drink - ten whole mugs - can you imagine that? Beer! Mmmm!" He licks his lips dramatically and steps toward Tarian, and then stops by the door. "Why wait till tomorrow?" he says with a smile and a raised eyebrow, "let's go now! I'll buy you one for starters." He gestures for Tarian to follow him out.

Ingold shakes his head in disgust, but holds his silence as the Corporal seems to have things nearly in hand. Returning to his post nearer the door, the Commander keeps himself between the drunkard and the rest of the room... Preferably with the besotted man between himself and the door.

Torelin seems to let the remark by the drunk pass over him. If he feels any rage it is well hidden for he stands to the side of the man, his face stone. To Aiesha he motions with his hand to move away in case violence erupts.

Aiesha snorts at Meldar's attempts, trying to keep her angry mutterings quiet. "Why buy him more so that he can lose himself further?" she snaps. "You don't cure a fat, /old/ drunkard by giving him more to drink, unless it's a good, strong coffee!"

Ingold holds up a hand and casts Aiesha a very intent and cold glare. "Hold your tongue, m'Lady, or you shall only find more trouble." His voice is not the laughing one of before, and his tone is an order in itself.

Realising she may have gone too far, the young woman flashes a sulky yet apologetic look at both the Commander and Meldar, and moves out of the way. "My apologies, Commander," she murmurs.

Meldar turns to Tarian with his hands on his hips. "Well, sir?", he says, "Are you not going to take me up on my offer? I might refuse if you don't come soon! Let's go, back to the White Tree Inn. It's only a short stagger south."

Malahir glances at Ingold and then to the lady he orders quiet. He nods to her and holds up his hand in her defense not to apoligize, "Why don't we all just take this outside, perhaps a little fresh air will do us good".

Once again, the drunk's attention is grabbed by the noble man who would thus buy him ale, and once again he is distracted by the others. With a deeply regretful sigh, he says, "Later, good man..later..after I finish here..". Expression changing abruptly, he turns a glowering face to the Guard who has clutched his arm again. With a heave, which sets the rolls of fat which surround his midriff to jiggling, he plants his feet firmly and gives the other man a hard push to the chest. "Careful little man..or I might take it into my head to teach you a lesson." This said, he shoots a poisonous look to the lady. "Watch your mouth, wench..it'll get you into trouble one of these days!"

Meldar puts on a firm jaw, seeing that his plan will not work, and that the man seems as if he is going to 'disturb the peace' after all. He casts a glance at Malahir and Ingold, perhaps motioning that they should restrain this man. He, however, keeps silent, and leans on the door frame, his hand near his sword.

Ingold casts Malahir a quick nod, and a motion of his head towards the door. Wincing as the Lieutenant is thrown by the drunk, he does not pause for more than a moment. "Come, then. Outside we go, at least, I go. And you go. You have a chance to come with me quietly, sir, or I could have my officers drag you. All I ask is that you step with me outside."

Malahir is thrown backward and releases his grip only to catch his fall. Returning to Tarian's side he surprisingly laughs, "There now you've done it". He seized the man by the arm once more, and looks to Commander Ingold hesistantly.

Aiesha glares at the drunk, her eyes blazing. "I don't need my mouth to get me in trouble," she hisses, balling her hands into fists. They soon turn white, as she tries to restrain herself. "And I'm not a wench either!"

Having had more than enough, Torelin reacts swiftly before anyone can say a word. He plants himself infront of the larger man and makes a grim expression, "I will not have you utter another word about the lady. Take your fowl mood outside where we may finish this."

Meldar moves over to Commander Ingold, and says quietly in his ear. "Sir, I'm going to the guardhouse within the gates to see if we can get assistance. This, I fear, will develop into a brawl." He then casts one last glance at the giant, shakes his head, and steps out, striding briskly towards the Great Gates.

With a nod to the departing Meldar, Ingold returns his gaze to the drunkard. "What will it be, sir? Will you leave of your own accord, and settle this with me outside, or will my officers drag you outside so we may settle it?"

A great roar of laughter shakes the rafters of the ceiling as the drunk stretches his massive arms wide, each one fully as thick as normal man's thigh. "At least one man here has as much spunk as the sassy wench." He turns to Torelin, a beatific smile on his face. "You want me to go outside? Then take me there...laddie", the last is said in a slow, deliberately insulting tone.

Aiesha glances at Torelin. "That doesn't mean what I think it means, does it Tore?" she pleads. "Remember what happened last time......" She looks a little fearful.

Malahir nods once to the corporal, sensing the need for reinforcements as the drunk man's strength is noticably twice that on the strongest man in the room. He turns suddenly upon Ingold, "We must not let this turn it to a brawl. Dueling is frowned upon within the city, commander". He continues his hold on the drunk, urging him toward the door.

Torelin lets his head drop slightly, seeming to be search for some small amount of control. The words Aiesha speaks echo in his head; clenched fists the only thing that is noticably tense in his stance. Then, looking once again at the lumbering man standing before him. To Ingold he raises one hand and points twice, seeming to be asking for the door to be opened. "You have insulted the lady, sir. Where I come from that is grounds for /this/...

Torelin heaves the man back by forcing both hands into his chest with all his strength, sending the drunk as far back as he possibly can

Ingold points out into the drenching downpour outside, "We are outside the city, Liuetenant. I have no intentions of brawling, but I also have no intentions of allowing such a disturbance to go unarrested." Yet Torelin's movements and words catch his attention and he nods to Malahir in turn, considering the Lieutenant is closer to the door than he at the moment. "I assume you are coming out with us, then." His tone is most pleasant, yet he refuses to budge towards the opening without the drunkard moving first.

Aiesha glances worriedly at all in the room, particularly at her fiance. "I think I've /really/ gone and put my foot in it now!" she moans softly to herself. "When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?" She moves to her fiance, then places her hand on his shoulder. "Can we go?" she asks worriedly. "It's late......."

Even as bloodshot eyes turn to the Commander, the drunk is given a mighty heave to the chest, and with a grunt of surprise, he stumbles backwards, slamming into the Lieutenant and carrying him along with the sheer momentum of his considerable weight, before they both are stopped by the wall, the unfortunate Lieutenant between the drunk and the wall. With a roar, he shakes his head as if to clear it, and charges forward, resembling nothing more than an enraged bull as he clasps his attacker in a bear-hug and entirely lifts the large man into the air, endeavoring to crack his ribe even through the protection of the armour.

Meldar merges into the shadows and becomes one with Middle Earth.

Torelin grunts as he is picked up by the enormous man and for a second seems unable to move. Then, slwoly releasing one arm from the grip of the drunk, he brings his fist down upon Tarian's head repeatedly, in an attempt to be let free.

Aiesha's eyes widen in panic as her fiance is picked up in a crushing bear-hug. Not knowing what else to do, she rushes close to try and help him, first tugging uselessly at the large drunkard's arms. Seeing that a useless attempt, she tries the un-ladylike way, giving the drunkard a fierce kick to the shins.

Ingold slams a fist heavily into the wall of the gatehouse, creating a loud noise to compete with the thunder. "Will you stop it!" he exclaims at the fighting men in general. "I will not, understand, will /not/ have brawling in this watch house, and I will not have brawling this close to the Gates. If you so wish to take it out to the fields of Pelennor where I can take my sword to you, so be it. But not here!" There is silence as he speaks. Finishing his schpeel, he turns, pulls his dark blue cloak from its hook, and without even pulling it on, strides out into the downpour, calling over his shoulder in a much calmer voice, "Lieutenant, you shall have more men in a moment. I expect this fight to be over when they arrive, and if not, soon after."

Torelin regains his composure as the man releases him and clutches his chest, mostly having had the wind knocked out him. He slowly begins to stand straighter and when he is able to breathe again holds out a hand to Aiesha. "It is time to retire for the night, I think."

Before he begins his backpeddling into the wall, Malahir is seen giving Torelin a reproachful look. Bracing himself for impact, he only allows his left shoulder to be pinned by the galiath man. Wincing at the possible dislocation of this arm, Malahir feebly remains standing, but is in no condition to fight this instant. He look to Ingold for help, but finds solace in his uninjured sword arm, removing his longsword from his sheath. Cursing loudly to gain the drunkards attention, "Now let's do this the right way laddie", just then the drunkard eyes get wide and he passes out in front on the crowd.