Ditches

Osgiliath: Eastern Ruins - Outside the Tumbled Wall

This area, to the east of the walls of Osgiliath, is merely a torn mesh of ground and the occassional broken stones. Once the proud walls stood high to the west, cradling the eastern half of the city protectively. But no more. Now those same walls are a shadow of their former selves broken and scarred beyond repair, their stones lay tumbled over one another like feeble elderly people, to tired to stand. Pieces of them have been strewn far into this area as the architecture was ripped up to serve other means. The grass, only growing in scant clumps, seems sickly and afraid of the open air. It is daytime.

Contents:

Ceredir

Arashen

Bor

Arathis

Great Stone Troll

Obvious exits:

North leads to North Ithilien - Forest.

East leads to On the way to the Crossroads....

SouthWest leads to Eastern bank of Anduin.

Crumbling Gateway leads to Osgiliath: Eastern Ruins - Rubble Wasteland.

[Bor(#30834)]

The sky is clear, and that is reason enough for celebration.

But a battle has been won here, and victory is writ upon the faces of those that linger in the area. The dead and injured have been moved and the corpses of the Enemy burned. What is left now is a new front, hard won.

And so it is that Bor sits among the errant stones in the area, chewing on a tall piece of grass. His gaze is ever Eastward and he is wholly silent.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Picking through the rock-strewn area east of the crumbled walls of Osgiliath - Arashen walks with his usual nimbleness. His leg, it appears, no longer bothers him. Compared to the long weeks of deprivation he spent in these ruins a mere month ago, he appears hale - naught but his arm sports sign of injury and it is splinted and cradled in a sling. He prudently wears armor everywhere but his broken right arm.

Silently, he comes to stand beside the Bragollach Knight. His own gaze is occupied more with the immediate vicinity. His gray eyes flicker from some broken blade to a spear head to the blackened circle where the enemy dead were burned. \"Any word of them, Sir? Do they regroup?\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"No,\" answers Bor simply, his eyes still outward.

It seems a reverie is upon him, yet it does not linger in the presence of the Squire. He spits out the grass and motions for the Telpekhor to sit.

\"They are routed...for now.\"

[Ceredir(#1394)] Movement from the southwest, as someone approaches from the direction of the River. Moving at a steady pace, Ceredir wears the greens and browns of his uniform, and as he nears the pair, he lifts his hand in a greeting lest he be taken for the enemy.

At some pace, issuing steps and soon retreating, glides Arathis of the Swan. Gauntlets fasten a-clasped at his back, and his high helm angles upon the soils beneath. Some odd, slow tune escapes his lips, the slightest of hums betraying him.

His stride carries him, whether he knows it or not, aside the Captain, Squire, and newly approaching Scout.

[Arashen(#24692)]

The young Telpekhor sits. Resting his be-slinged arm upon his lap, he stretches one long leg out before him. His gaze reaches beyond the battle ground now and to the distant east where lays Ithilien. And so it is he espies the scout, Ceredir.

Arashen\'s lips press together and his eyes narrow he tenses imperceptibly.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"I would pursue them down the Morgul Pass,\" continues Bor to Arashen, \"But we have only twenty-some Knights left.\" He seems unaware of the newly arrived.

\"And I fear the Riders as we close upon Mordor.\"

“Where are the ditches?”  The question of the Isilrim Knight is flat upon his fellows, his concern heeding none their speech and kinds.

“This city is not ours.  Shall we not thieve it?  We must dig ditches, two men deep about the walls, unless we are determined to lose it.  Where are the shovels and palisades?

“Or has the Enemy retired its Riders, advancing poor wargs with no wit instead?”

Some penchant has he for the soils, it would seem, though his eyes do charge upon his fellows as he speaks.

[Ceredir(#1394)] \"Good day.\" Ceredir\'s greeting is cordial, if a little flat, and timed to not interrupt Bor. He glances toward Arashen, and there is a question there, yet he doesn\'t speak it yet. Instead, his answer is toward Arathis.

\"The ditches, sir? There are shovels and supplies....\" the scout puzzles.

“Where?  Show me.  I shall need it soon, in any case,” answers the Isilrim swiftly, without the slightest of gesture.

[Arashen(#24692)]

What lies between scout and squire is forgotten - at least for a few moments. Arashen\'s head turns rather swiftly to look at his knight when \'fear\' is uttered. \"Gondor has more than twenty-two knights at her service. I will be discharged for combat in a week\'s time and ready to ride - if ride we do.\"

The young Telpekhor\'s gaze sweeps away from the Bragollah to rest but briefly upon the scout ere passing on to Arathis. To the Isilrim, he inclines his head in greeting but does not interrupt his conversation.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"Amroth alone maintains the southern border at the expense of most of her forces and Captains,\" answers the Knight-Captain, his voice retaining a sterness but little of its usual command. At last, he turns his face to the arrived.

But as swiftly, it returns to his Squire. \"A week, you say? Will the arm heal?\"

[Ceredir(#1394)] \"Back in the garrison.\" Again puzzled as he answers, Ceredir gestures west in his reply to Arathis. \"There is a supply of them. I have to head that way now, but if you need one immediately, sir, I could have one sent to you.\"

The Scout, finished in his reply to Arathis, lets his glance now briefly fall upon Arashen. He frowns ever so slightly, then his gaze travels back to Arathis.

A nod to the Squire’s, ere the peer of Arathis meets Bor’s and it is there without compromise, even as the Captain returns to his Squire.

“Should such kindness bless you, good Scout: yet shovels require Men behind them.”  His speech is speedier than is wont.

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Yes,\" the squire replies. \"Or so the healers say. It was a simple break and mends well already.\"

\"It is certainly less severe an injury than the first one.\"

\"Kinsman,\" Arashen calls solemnly to the Isilrim.

[Ceredir(#1394)] \"There is need for haste?\" Ceredir asks, picking up on the tone of Arathis\'s request. \"How many men do you require? Shovels I can easily obtain, but getting men to the detail means I relay the request to an officer--who will want to know why and how many and where and how long.\"

Even as he gives Arathis an apologetic shrug, Ceredir\'s glance again drifts to Arashen--now also taking in Bor for a moment. That crease of a small frown remains on his head.

Then he looks to Arathis for that knight\'s reply.

“Aye,” extends the tongue of Arathis in loose reply, even as he turns acutely upon the addressed.  “You look well, Arashen.  I am glad.”  Some coolness marks his tone but a nod again is offered to the lad, and the Knight’s gaze scouts long upon him.

Pivoting towards the Scout then, his palm levies towards the man’s shoulder, ere his voice issues in firmness: “Find the officers of the Silver Ship, and relay to them a message from an old friend: We must lengthen the walls, and deepen the dirts, lest this city remains in rubble.  However many men of that Company are uninjured, let them come!”

[Bor(#30834)]

\"Good,\" says Bor, his eyes still solely upon Arashen.

\"Sir Arathis commands it, Scout,\" turns the Knight-Captain\'s voice, then. \"There are men enough here to dig them. We need only the tools.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

As the Isilrim turns away, Arashen raises his brow. Shrugging his shoulders, he turns his attention back his knight.

He does not look at Ceredir again.

[Ceredir(#1394)] \"Yes, sir.\" Does that answer have the slightest note of a dry tone to it? Ceredir faces Arathis as he replies, his back to Bor, and Arathis might see that the Scout\'s eyes flick briefly sideways as he says those two words.

\"Your pardon, sir.\" Ceredir now addresses Arathis, and the hint of that tone--if indeed it was ever there at all--is gone. \"But we have not been formerly introduced. I will do as you say immediately, but do I need to mention a name when I tell them of this old friend?\"

\"We met once upon a kinder day in the baths, Ceredir Bragollach. I am Arathis of the Isilrim, Captain once of that Company. With haste, good Scout. Bring fifty, if the Men can be spared. Otherwise, the shovels shall suffice.\" Governance marks his bass, and his hand once more rises to the addressed\'s shoulder.

The Isilrim Knight peers then upon his fellow Swansmen, and resumes his pacing. He removes himself perhaps some dozen strides, and repeats their reverse the same in the opposite direction, gauntlets yet clasped behind him.

[Ceredir(#1394)] \"Just Ceredir,\" the scout answers hastily. \"No other name and certainly not that one--it was an error. A mistake. Just Ceredir.\"

The Knight halts his step, quizzical upon the Scout: “Very well.  With haste, then.”

[Bor(#30834)]

\"Disregard that order, Scout,\" spits Bor between his teeth. \"A man who utters such lies does not command your Oath.\" He rises swiftly.

\"I will get the shovels myself.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Against his will, it seems - Arashen does look once more to Ceredir, his eyes widened, but only for a moment. He rises when the Bragollach Knight does, though he remains silent.

The Knight pauses, his brows yet writ in the sharpest of question marks.  The same temper marks his tongue: “What utterance proves a lie, Sir Bor?  Find you fifty too many?  Or would you dig a ditch about this city with only a handful of shovels and fewer men?”

[Ceredir(#1394)] Already moving west toward the garrison, Ceredir now stops and turns to look in surprise at Bor. He says nothing to either of the two knights, meets Arashen\'s gaze with something between a wince and a look of apology, then quietly makes his exit as fast as he can, retreating to the garrison with a quick salute to the knights. When he is out of sight, he breaks into a run.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"I would hear nothing more from you, Knight,\" says Bor, his words firm but his body shaking. \"I will handle what defensive preparations are necessary.\"

\"Come, Arashen.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Countenance now carefully schooled, Arashen merely says, \"Yes, sir,\" and follows in the Knight-Captain\'s wake.

“Are you mad?  For what do you contradict me?”

The bass of the Isilrim grows, and he stands at the full of his height.  But his eyes soon soften, their grey paling, and he remarks nigh tenderly: “I care not, so long as a ditch is dug about this city.”

Thus Arathis resumes his pace before the east of the Capital.