Analdin lays silently on a clean, white-linened bed. Stripped to the waist, tabard, sword, and heavy boots on the floor beside the bed, he silently keeps his hands folded on his chest, atop the clean sheets. Eyes mostly closed, the lieutenant rests in the section mostly taken up by the wounded of the Guard, though only a few others remain yet in the healer's tent. His left shoulder, still bandaged tightly, now has a splint as well, and a hint of pain shows on his young face at every slight movement.

Malahir's head and torso is propped up by soft bedrolls and feathered pillows. He has a tired look in his eyes, the kind of tired you get from being asleep for too long. Lazily, he sighs, rubbing around the bandages on his neck, trying to reach that itch. The sheets are pulled down, exposing his soft torso cast. His legs are covered, but out from the bottom pokes out his bare feet.

Obviously not asleep, Analdin's eyes open quickly at the sound of a sigh from the man on the bed next to him. Carefully, ever so carefully, so as to not disturb the bandages on his head or shoulder, he turns his head to look at Malahir.

Obviously attentionally sighing to check if his buddy is awake or not, he too carefully twists his neck around. Holding the bandages on his neck, he smiles meekly. Ever so rough, like the first words a person speaks in the morning, "Aye sir. I'm alive I am. Or am I dreaming this?"

Analdin, voice smooth as though he has been awake a long time, he replies, "Were that 'twas all a dream, my friend. Not yout life, for certain, but the attack and all our wounded." Favoring Malahir with a pained smile, the lieutenant lets out a light sigh of his own, though takes in a gasp as it jostles his arm. "And the healers could perhaps be more lenient... I have work to get done, and they coop me up in their tent."

Malahir coughs ragedly for several spats, wincing and cursing as he reaches for his side. After the attack of coughing, he speaks more clearly, "Don't I know. It's for my own good I guess. I'm vaguely remembering seeing you. And Lord Kylier as well. Must a been a nightmare.", shaking his head slowly.

Analdin seems on the verge of shaking his head, but stops suddenly, as though imagining the pain it may cause. "No, Malahir... you, if any of us, need to keep abed for a while longer. Took quite a beating out there, my friend.." Another smile touches his face, hinting mainly in his eyes. "Perhaps I should get you away from your desk and make you a regular soldier again to get back in fighting shape?" A soft, very soft, laugh escapes his lips, only to die down as he remembers the rest of Malahir's speach. "And 'twas no dream I fear... though you should rest before you know more of what happened."

Malahir eyes wander, continuing to shake his head as he does. "I remember being so tired after our run. I couldn't hold my own. The first hit on my neck stunned me so bad, I coudln't move, yet fight. My reaction time has slowed to a crawl. Then he reeled around and done this"..showing the bandaged soft cast around his belly with his open hands. "I ran, but I don't even remember ever stopping"

With a sound of understanding, being very careful not to nod, Analdin brings his right hand up to brush a few strands of misplaced blond hair from his eyes. His right arm, as well, is clothed in bandages not too different from those on his shoulder and head, giving testimony that he took his beating well also. "A young stretcher-bearer and his companion found you in the streets, goes the tale, and you were returned to the camp almost dead. Were it not for the healing of the Lady Aelspeth, you would most likely not be here at the moment." Keeping his hand up to his face, he gently rubs the approaching sleep from his eyes.

Malahir eyes lower to the ground. He looks away from his close friend and for a monent remains silent. On that side of the bed is a nightstand, holding various positions that were found on his body at the time of his near death. Covered in a spot of blood, there lies a silver broach, which, unbeknownst to any witnesses, does catch Malahir's eyes. He still looks in this direction when he says in a fragile voice, "I have a request for you Lieutenant"

Analdin slowly and gently turns his head back to its former position, his half-closed eyes straight toward the ceiling of the tent. The sheet, twisted a bit by his movement, has fallen off of the bed a bit, exposing another bandage on his bare side. "What can I do for you, Malahir?"

Malahir straitens up his position, having slumped down on his stacks of sheets and pillows, wincing and ouching as he does. After being resituated on the bed, and shaking the covers lower with his legs to cover his feet as best he could, he speaks, toward the high ceiling of the tent, "Analdin. You are my closest friend. I want you to be honest with me". Taking a deep breath before continueing, "Am I a good guard? I'm I a good anything....cuz lately I don't feel like I am"

Analdin turns, twisting his whole body over onto his left side with a loud gasp and an attempt to cover the pain in his face as he does so out of suprise. Relaxing back, off his shoulder, the surprise not yet having disapeared but the pain dissapating a good bit, the lieutenant looks sharply at his aide, "Malahir, have I ever been dishonest with you? I certainly do not intend to start now, with this." His voice softening along with his eyes, he adds, "Would you rather my opinion as a friend or as your commanding officer?"

Malahir turns to view the surprise on the Lieutenant's face. Waiting impatiently, he almost cuts him off, "I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to speak so frankly. I need you to answer as my friend, not my superior.", sighing lightly, "Do you know what I'm saying though sir? How sometimes you feel like you can't do anything right"

Analdin stifles a tired yawn with his bandaged right hand, blinking a few times before again wiping stray strands of hair from his light eyes. Looking hard into Malahir's own eyes for a few moments, as if trying to read the man before speaking, he moves once again on the linened bed, adjusting his position to one of the least discomfort. "As a friend, then." he speaks slowly and quietly, his voice spanning the distance between the two beds but going no further. "I know perfectly what you are speaking of, Malahir... All too well. Try apprenticing with a master who is also your father..." Pausing to collect his thoughts, he continues, "But you do well in your own way. There is no man who can be good at everything... and you do quite well in that which you do."

Malahir shrugs with very little movement. Long period of silence fills the air, broken by the clinging of a fallen metal plate a young apprentice healer just dropped. With a jerk, Malahir startles, and pays for it with a knife like stabbing pain in his side. "When will we get out of this place Analdin?"

Analdin, ignoring with only a slight, so slight as to be hardly noticed, hint of annoyance Malahir's lapse into more personal address, he makes no movement for the few silent minutes. Bringing a gentle hand up to his head as the plate falls, a metallic clanging fills the air and his ears, a clanging all too much like that of a scimitar against a metal helm. Shaking his head quite slowly, Analdin says at last, "Soon enough, I should hope. What I wouldn't give to return to Minas Tirith when this all is over."

Malahir eyes dart around, acting on behalf of the phyisical limitiations of his body. "To see the gates of Minas Tirith again. I would give up my left arm sir.", frowning for a second, then suddenly offering his first warm smile, "nah, I might need it"

Analdin laughs gently, quietly, shaking his head as best he can manage without jostling his arm. "Keep your arm, my friend... Mine is useless as it is at the moment, and I can tell you certainly how much of a hinderance it is." Smiling softly, the lieutenant adds in a more serious tone, "Lieutenant Vorlain has already brought up the idea of leaving soon, and it has been decided to return as quickly as we can after the tourniment."

Malahir raises a brow suggestively. "Sir, that is wonderful. However. There was something important I have worked on for weeks now in private. I sure hope I didn't miss the craft faire sir. Do you know if I did while I was stuck in this aweful place?"

Analdin shakes his head slowly once more, "Nay, friend... It has not yet come about. If it has, it was while I was stuck in here before they placed this.. thing... on my arm," he motions toward his shoulder with a splint in the bandage. "And as I have not yet heard a thing about it... Well, I would rather have not missed it myself, or my entry would be useless."

Malahir tilts his head slightly, "ah, yes. These casts can be so very pleasant. We got lost in battle, how did your fight go sir?

Analdin laughs, this one gruff and sarcastic, "Better than I could have wished. Even recieving these," he shrugs at his wounds, drawing a sharp breath at again moving his injured shoulder, "it went well. The man I fought did have a rather fowl tongue, however..." he trails off, brows knitting together.

Malahir upturns a smile, "Aye sir. Mine rolled quite a few words off his devilish tongue himself. During the ebb and tide of battle, all I heard from those dark skinned wretches were fowl loud mouthing", he stops silent, holding his crimson stained bandages on his side. "Say sir..you mentioned something about an entry in the craft faire"

Analdin nods quietly, his right hand going absently to the bandages and splint at his shield-shoulder. The stark white of the newly changed bandages contrast his skin, and he looks longingly down at the eqiptment at the foot of his bed. Glancing back to to Malahir, he smiles slightly, "Aye, an entry."

Malahir follows the Lieutenant's gaze to the foot of the bed. He smiles at him sympathetically, "Well sir. I have left my entry at the Pavillion. I gave that man, Juthilor, I beleive, a note to explain my absence. Please, tell me what you made, and I'll tell you mine..seeing that we can't actually attend the faire it seems"

Analdin's smile returns, ever so lightly in his eyes, and he tilts his head, "Certainly, though I am planning to make it, should the healers decide to untie me from the bed." Winking, he smiles once more, kicking the sheet off his feet, you see his legs tied loosely to the cot, "They are rather strict, as I have said." Kicking the covers back into place, he coughs quickly before launching into a description of his entry, "My father taught me more of forging than simply household needs, of course. With the graceful permission of the local smith, who reminds me all too much of my younger brother, I forged a leaf. Small, iron, perfect representation of those that fall from the trees of my homeland.

Malahir listens to the story with keen interest, smiling as the restraints are shown to him. Rearranging himself on the straw bed he is in before replying at the end of the vivid description, "Sir, I could almost visiualize it. I can't wait to actually see your work. I remember you showed my your first nail along time ago", reflecting silently, "I see they have restrained you. There's no need for them to restrain me, I'm dependent on them for everything right now. Actually, I starting to get my hunger back"

Analdin chuckles lightly, though there is a strained hint to his cheerfilness, "'Tis good you are regaining your appatite... Must eat sometime, eh? As for you, my friend, you are in absolutly no condition to be getting up in any case. If I see you up and about before the healer's allow, there will be trouble." The smile remains in place, and he wipes another strand of boyish hair from his eyes, "That nail..." he mutters, under his breath, before saying a bit louder, "Now, about your entry... what does it look like? What is it?"

Malahir attempts to nod, but grunts lightly instead, "I'm not going anywhere in this condition, though I'm under the impression that I need to defend myself against false accusations. Anyway, back to something more in my power, my craft is an escutcheon, of my noble family. Not the ruling one mind you, the Rovacil, but Agendir, descendents of Emdir."

Analdin gives a grunt-like "um huh" as Malahir describes his craft, as he does so, rolling again onto his back with a sigh of relief as the pressure on his shoulder eases. "Sounds interesting to say the least," his voice comes up quietly, with a tired hint to it, "But, might I ask, what or who is Agendir? Emdir? You know I don't keep up with the houses as much as I probably should." He does not add, however, why exactly that is.

Malahir attempts to describe his creation and the history behind it, wanting to use more body language than his casts and condition will allow, "you see sir, the Agendir has been married into the ruling family, when Emdir, my uncle, married Mintella, the Lord's daughter. Since this event, the family's sigil has been kept buried in my memory, as it has not been displayed as it was proudly done in my youth. I believe it is my duty, despite what is revealed of my true father, to carry on the proud tradition of the ancient house Agendir. I can't wait for you to see the coat of arms. I had to go by memory, and I also added my own elements to update the new state of the house."

Analdin nods slowly, carefully, looking up at the ceiling though straining his eyes to glance toward Malahir. Listening closely, the lieutenant lays quietly on the cot, his bandages looking a bit more used and abused than they should be. "I look forward to seeing your creation, Malahir, as soon as they let me out of this cursed bed. It does sound most interesting." Leaning back, relaxing a bit, he looks once more down to the sword at his feet.

Malahir follows the gaze of his restrained leader, understanding shows in his eyes, "I will show you it soon enough. And sir, one thing before the healer's scold us for not resting...thank you sir. For your friendly opinion earlier"

Analdin tilts his head in small semblance of a nod, "Think not on it, Malahir... Just remember that I value you as a Guard and as a friend... though," he adds, a hint of amusement touching his eyes, "If anything else like that may come up, I shall most probably be right here, and willing to help."

Malahir relaxes back on his folded bedrolls, closing his eyes to mock the sleep he seeks, "Thank you sir. I will keep that in mind next time. Rest well sir"

Analdin smiles once more, and nods slowly, "Rest well yourself, Malahir..." and, trailing ogg, leans back against his pillow, and closes his eyes once more, pulling the light sheet over his bare chest to ward off the chill.

(Editor/Logger's note: A couple IC hours later...)

Edmond stands respectfully behind Aiesha upon entrance, letting his gaze go from one side of the tent to the other, glancing at the wounded with slight interest.

Malahir lies propped up against a stack of bedrolls, resting peacefully on the last cot along a long row of wounded soldiers. His bandaged midsection and neck indicate the reason he currently resides here.

Edmond remains quiet, as if he is a quiet child, quite unlike the personality Aiesha met outside. The reserved youth stands at the healers side, awaiting introductions.

Analdin lies sleeping, eyes closed yet turned up toward the ceiling, hands folded on the white sheet pulled up over his bare chest. A number of things lie at the foot of his cot, a folded tabard, a longsword, a winged-helmet, and a pair of heavy black boots. His chest rises and falls under the sheet, and the bottoms of his pant-legs poke out from beneath the white linens. Other white shines on him, bandages on his shoulder, side, and arm, and a splint as well.

At the sound of the young healer's voice, Malahir opens his eyes to realize he is face to face with Aiesha. Noticing the cup of tea he whispers as not to awake the other wounded soldiers, "Is this for me m'lady?"

Aiesha grins, noticing Malahir was now concious. "Of course it is," she grins cheekily, "If it was for me, it would have gone cold ages ago." She too speaks quietly, hoping not to disturb several others, including Analdin.

Aiesha hands Malahir the cup, still steaming.

Analdin stirs gently at the sound of voices at the bed beside his, and rolls over towards the sound in his sleep. As his weight rolls onto his broken shoulder, he cries out in pain, the features of his face bunching together to prevent another of its kind.

Malahir takes the cup, offering a generous smile to form before his eyes lower. "Thank you Aiesha. You must have heard my thoughts. I've been so hungry, and there hasn't been a healer this way in a while. I was thinking I may have to just pass out all together to not feel the pain anymore.", looking up from the steaming herbal liquid, "Do you know what I mean, my friend?"

Malahir turns and waves his hand at his fellow wounded, "I'm sorry to wake you sir"

Aiesha smiles, "Are you in pain, friend?" she asks quietly, then hearing Analdin's cry of pain in the background, blinks, then realises it didn't come from Malahir. She shakes her head, chuckling. She glances in Analdin's direction, checking to see if he was alright, considering the circumstances. "If so," she murmurs to Malahir, "..it seems you are not the only one."

Analdin struggles to sit upright, a valliant struggle at the best, for he does not make it without another, much quieter, cry. Relaxing into the cot, leaning his head bakc on the pillow, his sweaty, light blonde hair falling into his eyes. Looking with just-woken-up eyes at Aiesha and Malahir, he remains silent, perhaps from politeness or maybe because opening his mouth would simply allow him to show weakness again.

Malahir gives Analdin a good hard stare before looking back to Aiesha, "I'll be fine. Is there something you came here for M'lady?"...sipping his tea gratefully, "how is Torelin?"

Analdin stares back at Malahir, his eyes narrowing in confusion at the hard look from his aide, but settles back against his pillow without sound, bright blues resting on the ceiling as he shakes his head slowly. His breathing softens, as the weight is off his wounded shoulder.

Noticing the struggle to keep silent, Aiesha laughs, her attention divided between her job and her friend. She addresses Analdin first, moving over to him. "If you're in pain," she says quietly, "..nothing can be done about it unless you say something." She sighs, and murmurs to herself, "Most people can never seem to understand that..It makes a healer's job much harder, since they never tell us what's wrong.." She looks at Analdin quickly, "Can I do anything to help you?", she smiles. She turns back to Malahir, "I would not know, my friend..the last I saw of him he had been ordered to return to his original post..in Minas Tirith." She says this somewhat sadly, "And coming to think of it, I barely know him.." She shakes the thought off, and chuckles, "Are either of you hungry?". She looks at both Analdin and Malahir as she says this.

Analdin opens his eyes once more, the blue shining against the pained almost-red of his face. Glancing down at his splinted and bandaged shoulder, he says softly, "Thank you, m'lady, but 'tis just my own foolishness that pains me." His tone is quiet and tired, as though he does not dare speak much louder, "Cursed wounds and cursed judgement..." he mutters beneath his breath before saying a bit louder, "Though might I have something to drink?"

Malahir watches and listens to the young healer address the soldier next to him. Again, his stare lingers on him, smirking as he does. Taking sips of tea before answering the lady's question, "No thank you Aiesha. This tea is good enough for me"

Aiesha smiles, "All I can offer you is tea, m'lord Analdin," she chuckles. She rolls her eyes at the statement Analdin made about 'cursed judgement' and moves out of the healer's tent for a moment. She calls behind her quietly, "Back in a minute.."

Analdin, in quiet suffering, ignores Malahir's smirks and glares, though his expression does show hints of annoyance. Breathing coming regularly now, a change from the startled gasps of his waking, the lieutenant rests silently as the healess walks out. His gaze moves to Malahir, and he offers the younger man nothing but a half-raised brow.

Malahir returns the man's half raised brow with one of his own, "Did you notice the medallion she wears sir?"

Aiesha returns to the tent, another steaming cup of tea in her hands, as well as some bread and cheese. She moves over to Analdin, handing him the cup carefully. She smiles, looking for a chair, seemingly not noticing the conversation between the two soldiers.

Analdin does not offer Malahir a reply, but only a look that may perhaps be an affirmitave. As the young lady enters the tent, tea in hand, he favors her with a tired smile of thanks. Lips tight together in effort, he drags himself into a sitting position, leaning against a propped up pillow and silently sipping at the tea.

Side by side, commander and his aide, lie proped up against the walls, a cup of tea in hand. Malahir catches the attention of the healess, "Ma'am, If I might ask. The medallion you wear. It is very pretty.", raising his brows curiously, "I didn't notice you wearing it when we talked last"

Finding a chair, Aiesha sits on it, a tired smile on her own face. She glances at the two soldiers, her eyes slightly sad. "Could you tell me what happened?" she asks softly. "I have heard little of what happened..and saw its results."

Analdin stares down into his tea, shaking his head sadly as he quietly answers Aiesha's question, "The corsairs attacked Pelargir. We fought and drove them out." Mutting some more to himself about lapsing judgement and stupidity, obviously foul of mood from his sudden awakening, he takes a long sip from his drink and then again stares into it.

(Editor/Logger's note: I don't know why this cuts off... but I thought that this part would be amusing enough.  Don't remember how it finished, either.  Sorry.)