Osgiliath: Gondorian Fortification - Infirmary
        You stand in a cold and unforgiving room, nurses tend to wounded soldiers and others of Gondor, cleaning wounds or lifting the spirits of the on lookers. The first thing to alert your senses is the strong smell which eminates from every corner, the smell of disinfecting herbs, those used by the practioners of the healing arts. It seems to eddie over your head and flow down towards those in need. When battle has been nearby soft moans can be heard throughout the room, from wall to wall, stone floor to ancient ceiling. Many beds are scattered about the room, touching the stiff and unyielding stone floor, small cracks trickle about the floor like lightning in the darkened skies of the dark land. Several tables are spread throughout the room, filled with medicines to aid in the healing of sick or wounded men.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Weather:            Cloudy
Time:                Late Afternoon <about 5 PM >
Season:              Winter
Date:               Hevensday - January 9, 3015

Real Time:          Tue Jul 28 21:56:52 1998
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

What little light flows into the infirmary, walls broken down as they are and repaired as well as possible, from the cracks and the windows is quenched by the clouds hovering in the sky overhead. Especially with the evening closing in it seems to get darker, for in the winter, light does not last too long. The beds in the infirmary are mostly empty, for there has been no major skirmish of late. A few men lie skattered about in various cots, but only one seems to be moving. This would the a man near the back. He is covered to half-way up his bare chest with a sheet, his bare feet and the hem of his black trousers sticking out at the bottom. His whole stomach is visibly wrapped in bandages, some slightly red. He seems to be writhing some beneath the covers, as if trying to sit up but being unable... as though there were a restraint on him, for he seems to have the strength at least.

The weak light that filters through the doorway of the infirmary, is blocked suddenly by the man who now stands there, his features hidden, a dark silhouette being all that can be seen of him. He stands in the doorway for a moment, his gaze probing the recesses of the room, and then he steps inside, stooping slightly as he does. As he strides towards the man who lies half-covered by the sheets at the back of the room, a slanting ray of pale sunlight falls from one of the windows upon his face, revealing him to be Arnafel, Swan-Knight of Dol Amroth.

An audible groan can be heard from the bandaged man as someone enters, cutting off what little light there is in the room. He obviously doesn't see the face, however, for his eyes are closed.. Yet the sudden lack of light seems to effect him. "Dric!" he calls out, almost deleriously, as if in a nightmare. Suddenly, his eyes fly open and he is breathing hard, once more trying insistantly to sit up. Failing in this attempt, as he glances about the room and sees someone non-healer looking around, he lays back and gasps for breath.

As Arnafel enters the room and makes his way towards the cot, the wounded man's cries ring out in the hushed silence of the room. Arnafel's footsteps quicken and in a moment he stands by the wounded man's side. He gazes down, an undefinable look on his features...of sadness mayhaps?...and then he bends over the figure, and in a tone of surprising gentleness coming from a man clad in such war-like array, speaks gently. "Analdin, dost thou require a healer?"

Regaining what little composure he has, Analdin stares up into Arnafel's eyes and glares at him, "No, thank you. I am well enough. The leechers did their number on me already." Obvious distain for the healers shows in his voice, perhaps matching that which is usually shown towards Dol Amroth. "What need you of me, Knight, that you disturb my rest... restless though it may be?" There is a slight bulge under the sheet in three places... around his ankles, just below his wound, and his chest. They are horizontal, perpendecular to the direction he lays, and have the appearance of... ropes? Yet again, as he tries to sit, something holds him back.

Arnafel stands upright again, a smile flitting across his features, half-seen in the shadows, as he listens to Analdin speak. "Obviously, thou art well enough to speak in thy normal fashion. That is well...", and then he stops as he notices what appear to be ropes holding the other man down, and then again Analdin tries to rise, and this time it is obvious that it is indeed ropes which tie the man to his bed. He turns towards Analdin, a surprised look on his face as he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

Analdin shakes his head feintly, letting out a light sigh, "Better I be healing than lying dead. I took no bad injury, fighting that fell serpent, save for a fang across the middle. Ripped my talbard a bad one, too." he seems more sad over the injury of his talbard than that to himself. "They dragged me in here, decided I wasn't fit for duty, and tied me down. As always." The last he says with another sigh, almost under his breath.

A healer standing nearby overhears the Lieutenant's claims, and seems on the verge of laughter. Coming over to the bed, he says to the knight across, "Do not believe a word he says, save that the wound wasn't so bad. They carried him in half dead, saying he had completly ignored the wound and done not a thing about it. The battle was three hours over, at the least, before he came to the infirmary. Stubborn officer." the healer casts Analdin a hard glare before continuing, "Same one we have to tie down every time. I swear by the Valar that if we did not he'd be up and tearing himself apart without consideration for his health." Shaking his head slowly, the healer moves off to tend another patient.

Arnafel laughs as he listens to Analdin. "Better thy talbard than thee, Lieutenant." He turns as the healer approaches and nods as he listens to the his words, his face clearing as he hears this explanation of why the Lieutenant is tied down. He smiles again as he replies, "That doth seem to be exactly what the good Lieutenant wouldst do." His expression becomes graver as he asks the healer, "How long will it take him to heal fully?"

Glancing over his shoulder, the healer shrugs, "'Twould be up to the Lieutenant. If he will stop injuring himself more with so much tossing and turning, and perhaps get some decent rest..." he trails off into calculation, "A day, two at the most. A week if he keeps up this behavior." The healer casts a glare over his shoulder at the officer...

...Who simply glares back, rolling his eyes and mumbling something about upstart healers. Returning his attention to the Knight, the young Lieutenant asks, "What was it as brought you here, Arnafel? Or was it simply a wish to mock me in my state? If I could be on my feet right now..." he trails off in disgust.

Arnafel says nothing for a moment, holding his hand up even as the healer opens his mouth in protest, his face unreadable as he gazes at the prone man and then he shakes his head, again that undefinable look of sadness on his features as he speaks. "I pity thee, Analdin. As for why I didst come here, perhaps 'twould be too much for thee to believe that 'twas solely because thou art a comrade on this quest and I wouldst do the same for any such?"

Analdin's face hardens noticably, "No... 'Twould be far too much for me to believe that, Knight." Struggling once more to sit, an obviously futile effort on his part, the officer somehow manages to come to a semblence of sitting. "Any man who would come and see a wounded comrade who has says such words as I have... No, 'tis not believable. Now again, state your reason for coming here." He pointedly does not use the other man's name.

Arnafel's expression remains unchanged as he speaks, "Nevertheless, whether thou believest it or not, it doth be the reason. And as for thy words," he chuckles, "thou art indeed well versed in the art of angering others, and I do be no exception. But I doth not judge a man and whether he doth be comrade or enemy solely by his words...which mayhaps thou dost not believe again?" he asks dryly.

Analdin nearly spits up at Arnafel, "Save thy thees and thous for thine own kind, Arnafel." The wound doesn't seem to have improved his temper at all... But he does lean back a few long moments, resting against the bed and breathing almost heavily. It is, in fact, more than a few long moments, for the moments turn into minutes as he lays there. Whe nhe opens his eyes, however, they seem a good bit calmer than before. "I do believe there is unfinished buisness between us, Sir Knight. Refresh my memory, and let us reason this out like civilized men."

Arnafel ignores the wounded man's words, leaning back against the wall as he waits for him to recover from his outburst. An amused look passes over his face as the Lieutenant recovers enough to speak again. "Civilized men, Lieutenant? I suggest thee amend thy own behaviour first in that case." His face quickly grows stern howver, as he speaks again. "A few days past, thou didst make a claim, Lieutenant, that thou art my superior officer. By what authority didst thou claim thusly? It strikes me Lieutenant, that thou didst do verily that for which thou didst revile a man of Dol Amroth to me but a few weeks past."

Now back in control of his words, the young officer meets Arnafel's gaze, "I need not a lecture from yourself on my behavior, Knight. Do you not think I have thought my actions over many a time? I am a stubborn man, sir. This will I freely admit." Pausing a moment, as if choosing his words, he then continues. "First off, at the time I did not know immediatly of your rise in the ranks. Second, I have many years of experience on you. Third, none but my own officers, and perhaps those few who I call friends, address me as Analdin. Everyone else, Lieutenant. I would hope you could respect me enough to give the same honor. As for yourself... Speak your peace, man, for I will listen now and do my best to hold my temper."

Arnafel's expression does not alter as he considers Analdin's words, then speaks again. "Lieutenant, thou didst know full well of my rise in the ranks before thou didst make that statement. And as for thy experience, not in the least does it give thee the right to claim superior rank over another man. I held my tongue at that time, for I wouldst not accuse a man falsely, and only after enquiring of Lord Boromir whether he had passed an order placing thee in command of the Swan-Knights on this quest am I saying this. And Lieutenant, if thou art mindful enough of thy position to insist on being addressed by thy rank at all times, then it behooves thee to extend the same courtesy to others..which thou most assuredly did not at the time..for the correct form of address for me is Sir Arnafel, didst thou not know?"

With the snap of a rope, the young officer finally sits up and against the wall behind his bed. When he shakes his head, a few strands of light hair fall into his eyes, "Actually, Sir Arnafel," he uses the title with no hint of sarcasm or the like, "I had not known. It is little that I come in contact with the Knights of Dol Amroth, for as you may have noticed... We differ in our opinions in some major ways. I think I know that man of whom you speak. If we are thinking of the same, that matter has already been spoken of and is of no concern to you." He pauses a moment here for breath for, no matter how much he denies it, the wound in his stomach is taking its toll. "I know," he begins almost cautiously, "That I have not always been the soul of politeness. Spend your years from from the city and working in a hot smithy, and tell me if you do are not the same. But as I have been tossed, by Lord Boromir's orders, into your midst, I have tried my hardest to me civil."

Arnafel observes the man, then says curtly, "To bring to thy notice, Lieutenant, thou still hasn't explained thy claiming superior rank over me. We shall speak of it again. As for the rest, civility is all I ever didst ask for." And with these words, he spins on his heels and strides out with a nod to the healer on the way.

Analdin watches almost striken as Arnafel suddenly walks out, after his own attempts at being civil. Shrugging, he lies back down, rolls over onto his side, and makes the attempt at rest.