Harsh Words

[Bor(#30834)]

The skies above Osgiliath are clouded and dark, and though it is still afternoon, the men of Gondor must be sharp. It was not long ago that such weather brought an outpouring of orcs upon their limited supplies.

Of supplies, there are now more. Cuts and bruises have been tended to and those with deep wounds have been sent away to the Halls of Healing. These that are left are fed and rested and as well as any soldier could wish to be.

[Arashen(#24692)]

A young man, a squire of Dol Amroth judging by his tattered azure tabard, sits near the supplies - which have become, at least symbolically, the center of the camp.

Dark circles still ring his sunken eyes, but they are not so bad as they were before. His hands and bearded face are clean but his armor is still battered, scored and stained dark with his enemies\' blood.

With his back against a rock, he tears hungrily at a piece of bread with his teeth. To \"The Thirteen\", as some have come to call the survivors who stayed to fight, the young Telpekhor is remarkably relaxed compared to past days but others might be more inclined to note the way his eyes constantly scan the distant ruins - even when at rest. His hand never strays far from the pommel of his sword.

Ceredir has spent most of his time here hovering over the supplies: organizing them, rationing them out, and logging it all in a small leather-bound volume that was stored in his rucksack. Now the Scout sits opposite Arashen, cross-legged on the ground, his eyes on the notebook, which is on the ground before him.

The Scout looks up--notes Arashen\'s restless eyes--then turns to scan the ruins where the Squire is looking before he speaks, a small frown creasing his brow as he looks at the other young man. \"No matter how I figure it, the supplies we brought will last us only 6 days. Eight if we stretch the rations thin, but...\" his eyes scan Arashen\'s face, and he shakes his head. \"I would not recommend that. You need food to fight constantly.\"

And then, perhaps because Arashen keeps scanning the horizon, he asks, \"Do you expect an attack during the day?\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Aye,\" the squire replies, glancing away from the ruins to his friend. \"They attacked us early in the morning a few days ago. Took most of the supplies.\"

\"You\'d be surprised what you can do when needed, we will fight until we are dead or they are. Ask Gurtir what you should do, but I say stretch out the supplies each attack will leave us with fewer mouths to feed and we don\'t know how long it will take Minas Tirith to send the main force.\"

Arashen reaches for his water skin.

\"I thought...\" the Scout frowns...\"I thought orcs could not fight in the sun.\" Arashen\'s words make him nervous, and now Ceredir, too, glances out toward the ruins. \"Do they give any warning of their approach? Or are they just upon you in an instant?\" That said, the Scout loosens his sword in its sheath before he turns back to the ledger before him, frowning.

\"Gurtir is likely busy...the March-Warden could decide, but I have seen neither for more than a minute or two. And there is time enough for such a decision.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Glancing up to the heavy cloud cover, Arashen says: \"You see the sun anywhere?\"

He takes a long draught of water. \"Where is that March-Warden of yours? I swear he is the same man I last saw flying over the edge of the bridge...\"

\"And I want to be put on the first night shift for sentry duty. There\'s no point in making your people as tired as ours. I\'m well enough, now.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

And in from the cloudy recesses of the wrecked city comes a figure, though it is neither orc nor troll. A longsword clangs at his waist and a flask is held in one of his hands. From wherever he has passed through the night and into the morning, the Knight Commander returns. His eyes are still harrowed.

\"They have no need for stealth, I have seen their numbers. If they come at once, we will hear them well before they are upon us,\" he says.

\"No, no sun,\" Ceredir says, though he squints up at the sky to confirm this bleak fact.

The Scout\'s finger is holding his place in the ledger, and he glances back to the notes scrawled there. \"If I cut the bread rations by a third, they would last 9 days, I think....he what? The March-Warden went over the side of the bridge?\" A glance is given to Arashen as if to confirm whether the Squire jests or not.

\"I keep track of supplies, not sentry duty, Arashen,\" is the Scout\'s response to the last, and then--as Bor speaks on his approach--he inclines his head toward the Knight. \"There, I believe, is the man you should speak with.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Arashen acknowledges the Knight-Commander\'s presence with a nod of his head but first he addresses his friend\'s earlier question with no hint of a jest. \"If it\'s the same man, yes it was during my first battle against one of those trolls. The massive beast hit him with the broadside of his axe and sent him flying through the air and into the river.\"

\"Sir, I\'m well enough for duty. I\'m not sure who to talk to with the Relief come and all.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

Bor takes a swig from the small flask, eyeing the Telpekhor.

\"I will see to it that you are reassigned though whether I remain in charge I know not, I have yet to hear the full account of Lord Faramir\'s orders.\"

\"And you,\" he begins, turning his gaze to Ceredir, \"Have you begun to compile my list yet? I wish to know each of their names.\"

\"I see. I cannot say if it is the same man in fact--I did not see anyone fly over the bridge. But the March-Warden Tarachim is with us and in good health.\"

Ceredir then returns his attention to his ledger, giving it one last look before he closes it and carefully stores it back in his rucksack. From that same bag he then withdraws a small rolled parchment that has been tied with a leather cord. This he silently hands up toward Bor.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Arashen adds nothing more to the conversation. He stretches out his legs stiffly, wincing as he does so. There are two rents in his trousers through both can be glimpsed clean white bandages.

[Bor(#30834)]

Bor takes the parchment wordlessly and places it into a pocket. He stands there for a moment looking rather stupidly towards Arashen, until at last:

\"Squire, before you are assigned to guard duty, I would have you tell the Ranger Gurtir the suggestions you made to me. I wish for him to know these before I speak to him. Is that understood?\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

The squire turns attentively to his commander when addressed. His eyes widen perceptibly. Without hesitation, Arashen replies: \"Yes sir, I will.\"

There is no hint of anger or recrimination in either his demeanor or tone of voice.

He allows a long awkward moment to lie between them, before he ventures to speak again: \"Did you rest, sir?\"

It\'s now Ceredir\'s time to sit back and listen, and the Scout, too, leans against a piece of rubble and stretches his legs out. He tilts his head slightly and looks with curiosity at Arashen for a moment, and then back to Bor.

\"There may be sentries on that list that I missed.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"In a manner of speaking, yes,\" replies Bor to Arashen, \"I did not fight nor did I man a post. But did I sleep? No. Someone had to see to the dead.\"

And then voice turns harsly towards Ceredir:

\"I doubt that you would find the men that stood by me through this as sentries. They would have been taken to the Halls or at rest, I would think,\" he says.

\"Would you like it back?\"

\"Sir, if you have names that should be added that I cannot know of, then I will take it back and add to it if you would dictate the names to me.\" Ceredir gets to his feet now, so that the Knight would not have to stoop to return the parchment. \"But..I would like to know of the plan the Squire proposed?\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

The squire struggles to his feet, clearly stiff - like most of the men who remained. None of these are unmarked by battle.

Arashen waits until Ceredir answers, looking as one who has something more to say. But when he hears the scout\'s last request, his head snaps his way.

Arashen does not answer, however, but looks away, his lips pursed in determined silence.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"There should be thirteen names here.\"

Bor\'s attention is now fully upon the Scout, his gaze unbending, his body stiff.

\"Are there?\"

As Arashen fixes him with a stubborn expression, Ceredir grimaces. \"Forgive me. That was inappropriate.\" As if he is going to elaborate, Ceredir then draws in a breath. But he looks to Bor and his expression grows colder and more formal.

\"Eleven. I am missing two.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Clearing his throat, Arashen offers his friend a wry look. \"Did you remember to add my name and Sir Bor\'s?\"

The tension, on the part of the squire at least, appears to be lessening somewhat with this attempt at humor.

\"In fact, I listed you twice, Arashen, to account for all the bread you have been eating,\" the Scout quips, a quick grin accompanying his reply. Ceredir\'s eyes return to Bor, though, and he sobers in his expression once more.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"You little bastard,\" sneers Bor with an audible whisper.

\"Do you think this child\'s play? A game? Some idle amusement of mine?\"

The Knight steps towards Ceredir and retrieves the list from his pocket. He tears it apart, letting the pieces fall to trodden earth.

\"I ask you for a mere thirteen names, those still living. Perhaps I should instead have asked you to find me the names of the dead for they are numerous, scattered, and some taken away to be devoured by the beasts on our borders.\"

\"You petulant little fool!\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Sir!\" Arashen says firmly, he raises his hand to point to a man, dressed in a tattered black tunic, sleeping some distance away from the three. \"Look at that man!\"

\"He is one of ours, do you know what I know about him? His wife is about to give birth to their third child. They hope for a son. He grew up on a farm in Pelannor.\"

\"He knows which barmaid I fancy at the Seven Stars he knows how the pastures outside my family\'s keep in Pinnath Gelin smell after a spring rain. But he doesn\'t know my name and nor do I know his.\"

\"If we don\'t know them how can Ceredir be sure he has them all?\"

There is no mistaking the look of pure hatred that fills the Scout\'s eyes, but he says nothing to Bor.

Instead, Ceredir holds up a hand to wave off Arashen\'s defense, then stoops over to open his rucksack. From this he withdraws another piece of parchment, a quill and small penknife, a small leather pouch of charcoal, along with a small bowl. Writing implements all.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"If he does, Knight, one cannot blame him completely. What care you for the names of those that are not of your... ilk?\" The words come from a man, dressed in the hues of Ithilien, that has come from the sentry lines his gray-gauntled hands give his rank as March-Warden. \"Perhaps because while you seem take it so seriously, you do not take it seriously enough to /ask/ the men their names yourself do you feel such a task is beneath your station and dignity?\"

The March-Warden comes to a stop a few paces away, head covered by soot-blackened helm and a mask his eyes are the only visible part of his face as a result, and they are narrowed. \"It may have been his task and duty, but you lecture a Scout under /my/ command for something /you/ were not willing to do something you should already know.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

Bor\'s eyes go from Ceredir to Arashen to the March-Warden in quick succession and he is a Bragollach, and the fires in his pupils burn bright.

\"Last night, man, I retraced my own steps back to the grounds where we lost our supplies wagon and a good part of the men that were with me. I dragged the bodies that hadn\'t been feasted upon as far from that spot and as far from our camp as was humanly possible and then I burned them,\" says the Knight.

\"The smoke mingles amidst the clouds so perhaps you cannot see it, but I wonder if your man would have preferred that task to a simple list of thirteen names?\" asks Bor, \"A task not only commanded by me but by Gurtir as well.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Like quicksilver, the Telpekhor\'s ire is turned from his own to the outsider - in more ways than one. The passion from his earlier outburst gives way to a cold temper. Setting an icy gaze on the March-Warden \"Do not presume to decide what any of us should or should not have done. We Thirteen are brothers, Order, Hosts and Rangers all,\" Arashen says in a low, barely controlled tone right on the heels of the Knight-Commander.

\"Sir.\" Ceredir sets aside the charcoal he has been mixing with a bit of water to make ink and replies to the March-Warden, not looking at all to Bor. His voice is cold and his eyes are burning with rage.

\"Each of the men whose names I recorded on the list that I made--I asked each of them if there was any name missing from that list and none were able to add a new name. Obviously I have missed two men, but in my tending to the supplies--and attempting to figure out how to stretch seven days\' of food out to an indefinite time when relief arrives--I have also obviously missed the coming and going of two men on sentry duty.\"

\"But I did not undertake the task lightly, nor did I think the list a joke, as the Knight seems to believe. Rather, I spoke lightly just before you arrived because the Squire was attempting some humor. And I thought that my answering wiht some humor was the least I could do for a friend whom I thought was surely dead before I arrived here. The jest was not intended to reflect on the task the Knight had set for me.\"

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"And for that you are to be commended I would not expect such a thing from a Knight.\" The March-Warden gives a bare, slightly, nod of his head he falls silent as Ceredir speaks before he nods to the Scout. \"Duties that are of higher importance than the list of names ensuring that we all get enough food to ensure that we can lift our blades when the time comes. If the result of that is a lack of dillegence on a list of names that can easily be compiled after the matter is over, should we survive, so be it. There are more important things at hand here.\"

The March-Warden falls silent for a moment, shifting his gaze to Arashen and blinking slowly before speaking again. \"Your Order seems to have no compunction about telling such things to those outside of their ranks and authority. Do you use their ranks, then, in order to get the attention of your \'brothers\'? No one has mentioned their name at all in all the time you have been here?\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"I did not ask this man to rearrange his duties, nor did I ever state that my list is more importan than the well-being of this camp. I asked only if he had finished and was given this list,\" says Bor, \"This incomplete list.\"

\"You assume too much and know too little, March-Warden.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Come fight and die with us,\" Arashen replies for his part, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. \"Forego sleep and food battle every night. Then you will know how we address one another.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"And you will also know why I prize such a list,\" adds Bor to Arashen\'s words.

Ceredir now reaches for the torn pieces of paper that Bor threw on the ground. He unfolds them, flattens them out and starts copying the list of names onto a fresh sheet of parchment. He looks up once to glare at Bor in a silent rage, then resumes copying.

Then, to Tarachim--though the Scout\'s eyes briefly take in Arashen and Bor: \"Sir, if I cut the food rations--the bread, mainly--by a third, it will last nine days. Quarter it and it will last eleven days though we will all be very hungry. We have not enough for fifteen days unless we take more drastic measures or some Scouts make the trip to Minas Tirith again.\"

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"When you have walked the paths I have walked, battle every night with no food will seem like barracks duty in comparrison. Remember that there are things that stalk Ithilien and the lands near it that you have never seen and should hope you never will,\" The March-Warden\'s voice is quiet and cold, and so does his demenor and eyes match it before he turns his gaze back to Bor.

\"I only go off my experiences, what I have seen and what I have heard the same any man can go upon. You react out of hand to an incomplete list you could have simply handed it back and told him to complete it rather than lecturing the boy as if he had destroyed your best clothes. We are warriors, we men of Ithilien, not courtiers.\"

The March-Warden turns his attention to Ceredir, then. \"Cut the bread to a quarter and find men willing to go to the river for fish to suppliment the food. I will not send men away for food when their lack will be keenly felt should battle come upon us if you should ask Gurtir or he should enquire, and he countermands my orders, so be it.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"Out of hand? Who are you to judge my reactions? You know nothing of what I have seen or done, you pathetic swine. I do not presume to know the roads you have traveled, their hardships and losses. Yet you do this of me,\" spits Bor.

\"I know only that I have seen much of the men of your company, of their gallantry and bravery in a situation where there was no victory, only a slow and debilitating loss. I am sure that you are a valorous man, no doubt...\"

\"But you are also an idiot.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Arashen is implacable in the face of the March-Warden\'s cold explanation. He squares off, arms folded upon his chest. But he says naught, perhaps satisfied with his commander\'s reply.

Head down, Ceredir is carefully copying over the list. And the Scout keeps it so--though he licks his lips and pauses briefly to frown at the exchange of words between Knight and March-Warden, except for a nod of obedience to Tarachim\'s order on the rations, he does not look up.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     \"I am Tarachim Carmayar, March-Warden of the Company of Ithilien. It is entirely within my right as an officer of that Company to judge your actions when you insult and lecture a Scout of the Company someone outside of your Order and authority. It is not you he answers to, but myself and Gurtir. I presume nothing of what you have done I judge you based on what I have seen and heard. You are nothing more than an arrogant bastard who is incapable of keeping himself in hand while in enemy territory. Perhaps those are traits looked for and valued amongst your ilk, but it does you little credit and it destroys the comraderie and morale that should be had between those that fight to defend Gondor!

\"I care not of the paths you have walked. I care not of what you have endured or lost. You are far from the walls of your home, and you step in places where better men than you have died. You mock and belittle everything they have accomplished, and indeed everything these men here have accomplished, when you act as you have.\"

The Carmayar falls silent for a few moments, letting out a breath slowly. \"You jepordize the very brotherhood you claim with your deeds. In a place where morale is important, you undermine that morale by your words.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Yes,\" Arashen drawls slowly, looking down the length of his nose at the March-Warden. \"It is true. We do break morale and throw insult in the face of the company of Ithilen. Why, Sir Bor just did so with his words of how valiant the men of your company conducted themselves under his command - so rude considering the kind words you bestowed upon our Order.\"

\"Sir Bor does not deserve your respect. Standing between a Mordain army and the farmers of Pelannor with perhaps a score of men does absolutely not excuse the act of yelling at a scout in a moment of great fatigue. Please accept our apologies.\"

\"Sir...\" Ceredir interrupts, looking with worry at Arashen. \"I have the list re-copied and can have it finished within the hour? Will that satisfy?\" he asks, then, to Bor, without anger in his eyes or voice.

\"I think...\" the Scout then continues slowly, looking between the three men, \"that things are being said here that will be regretted by all parties, when it is simply a matter that I was negligent in complying with the Knight\'s orders. I should like the opportunity to correct that now, so that perhaps the whole matter can be put in its proper perspective without inciting hatred between men of Gondor.\"

Ceredir turns now again to Bor. \"I apologize for taking this task lightly, sir.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

Quiet, Squire,\" snaps the voice of Bor to Arashen.

Yet his eyes remain as they were, on Tarachim, long and venomous. He does not move or speak for a long while as the Scout\'s diplomatic intonements seem to fall upon deaf ears. It is a tense silence, perhaps purposely this way.

\"I thank you, good Scout, for your apology and your dedication to your task. I do not meet many men who show such erstwhile competency as I am fed grapes and recite poetry in the shining courtyards of the Prince of Dol Amroth. We are a slovenly bunch, unattentive and wasteful, and it is good that there are such vigilant men as yourself and the March-Warden Tarachim to allow me to ditter away my life. In fact, let me be the one to apologize for my temper!\"

And the Knight curtsies, spits and takes his leave.

\"Come Arashen, there is work to be done.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]     hroughout this last exchange, Arashen\'s hard expression is kept on Tarachim but when ordered to depart with the knight, the Squire first turns to his friend, his expression softened. He nods to the scout ere turning on his heel and following in the Knight\'s wake.

[Tarachim(#19338)]     The March-Warden remains silent and still until after the Knight and Squire have left. Releasing a slow sigh, he turns his gaze to Ceredir, shaking his head slightly. \"And what have we been doing these long years? Tending Osgiliath\'s gardens and painting her ruined walls? Squabbling with the Enemy over what colour to paint the building yonder, or what flooring to put down? Little housekeepers, we of the Company. Because our greens and browns go so well with all this stone.\"

The words are quietly murmured with a very dry humour before the Carmayar shrugs. \"Give my appologies to Gurtir, Ceredir, over the matter, should they be required. Once this is all over, I think I shall take a nice long patrol in the Garden and vent my choler upon hapless servants of the Enemy.\"

It\'s a moment or more in this state of contained rage before Tarachim\'s words sink in and Ceredir turns to listen. \"Yes sir. I think Gurtir will send me with you, sir. Venting anger, he\'ll say. Once I am allowed to fight again.\" With that, Ceredir turns to retrieve parchment and ink and to finish the job.