Ranger Commons II

[Pele Alarion]

RANGER COMMONS
The Ranger Commons consists of: Headquarters, Barracks, Armoury, Training Grounds, & Stables

Commons
A large stone building surrounded by a cluster of others is situated in the north of the sixth circle, encompassing a large square courtyard. This is home to the Rangers, who serve and protect both the city of Minas Tirith and the lands around it.

HEADQUARTERS


The first building to meet the eye is one housing the Headquarters. The unique architectural design of the building gives it the look of a six-pointed star. A heavy oak door protects the way into a spacious hall with a couple of windows opening up towards the street and allowing the light to enter. Next to the door of the Commander’s office is a large notice board with pieces of parchment pinned upon it, telling of roster updates and other important things Rangers should know.

Here, you may:
· Ask to be enlisted in the Rangers
· Have a mentor appointed for you to proceed with training
· Let your Commanders know if you will be away for a lengthy time

How do I train?
1. Sign up to the Rangers with your name, weapons and armor. Your name is your Plaza Identity, your weapons and armor are invented, typically one weapon and one piece of armor to begin with if you wish to bring your own. New recruits and any Rangers who wish may draw a uniform, armor, and basic weaponry from the supply room.
2. Once acknowledged, you may join in the storylines in the Ranger Commons or new campaigns. A mentor may be assigned or requested, with whom you can work on training individually or in the context of a campaign.

Uniform and equipment of the Rangers
The formal uniform is black with the white tree emblazoned on the chest.
Armour is left up to the individual ranger.

Structure of the Rangers
Commander
Captain
Lieutenant

Sergeant
Corporal
Ranger, Specialization (ex. Cúner, Hyandaner, etc.)
Ranger
Recruit


ARMOURY


Not far from the building containing the living quarters of the Rangers, is located the Armoury. It is a low but very spacious building, and the torches on the walls between racks of weapons give it steady light. The many wooden tables and racks displaying armor and weapons all but create a maze that might bewilder a newcomer, or an overly sleepy soldier.

There is a section with spears and javelins lining up neatly according to their lengths, and next to them is a collection of battle axes. After these is a vast display of swords - lines upon lines of long swords, several lines of short swords, some broadswords and some rapiers. Then there is a section almost as large, but dedicated to bows. The greater part of it consists of longbows, followed by recurves. The tables in the midst of the large room contain pieces of armour, various daggers, helms, belts, scabbards, and various other accessories.

Along one wall, shelves rise almost to the ceiling; the bottom rows are filled with boots, and the garments such as extra cloaks, trousers, and tunics are stacked high on the other shelves.

The back door leads from the armoury into a small forge. The bulk of the weapons and armour are made by the city's blacksmiths; however the smith in this forge works mainly on maintenance. Her hands are full trying to repair all the weapons and chainmail, and whatever else wrought of steel the Rangers bring to her.


BARRACKS


Living Quarters, Common Room, Mess Hall & Kitchen
Across the courtyard from the headquarters of the Rangers are the barracks - a sturdy four-storey building. The front door opens into an entrance hall. To the left is the Mess, to the right – the Common Room. Two long stairways lead upstairs. Right in front is the Barracks Master's office.

Mess Hall
The mess may be entered both from the entrance hall of the Barracks, and directly from the courtyard. Long tables with the benches run down the middle of the room. The mess can seat 600 people. Along the outside wall are large windows providing more natural light for the large hall. On the inside wall there are big fireplaces. All along the outer wall, under the windows, is a long buffet carved of hardwood. The Rangers can find the available drinks and food set there by the cooks. At both its ends are pumps providing fresh water from a natural spring.

There are also special meals for forces returning from or setting out on a mission. There is a smaller room outside the mess, sometimes referred to as the “little mess”. Here too there is a buffet, and a water pump. This buffet only serves fresh fruit, nuts, bread, honey and similar snacks. However, it remains open all day long.

Kitchens
Every Ranger knows the kitchens: everyone is required to do shifts there, helping with the washing and the cleaning, the unloading of merchandise brought early in the morning, and the bringing of items from the cellar, though never with the cooking. The kitchens take half the ground floor of the South Wing.

Pies are baked in many ovens, stew boils in huge cauldrons, pots and pans stand on the stoves. The bakery provides fresh bread and pastries, in the salad area fresh fruit and vegetables are cut, providing the Rangers with much-needed vitamins. Four big fireplaces are equipped for spit-roasting, but those are only used on special occasions. In the cooler cellars below, there are stores of cheeses, sausages, smoked meats and fish, apples, potatoes, as well as barrels of ale, mead, cider and wine. There's also a cellar filled with pre-packed field rations, ready in case the Rangers need to march with no time for preparation. It's said that even the rats avoid this cellar.

Chief of the kitchen staff is Sergeant Pete. He is a burly man with a mop of grey hair and merry grey eyes, who has been in the service for many years. He runs a tight kitchen and is very proud of the standard of the food he serves. Despite clear orders to the contrary, Sergeant Pete may sometimes allow Rangers into his kingdom to prepare their own food, if they stay out of his way and clean up any mess they make. However, he likes to remind them that this time is an exception and he would kick them out the next time.

Living Quarters
Two stairways lead off from the entrance hall of the barracks: one to the South Wing, and one to the North. The construction of both wings is similar: four floors. On each floor, a long hallway dotted with numerous doors lead away from the stairway. This is where the Rangers have their rooms and may find some necessary rest in between their duties. Each room has four beds, each with a heavy oaken chest at the foot for the storage of personal belongings. Two wardrobes stand on each side of the door, supplying ample room to store garments and even armour. A desk sits near the window, as well as a couple of simple chairs. But surely each occupant of the room adds his or her own personal touch to the room by how they arrange the things they bring along.

The officers live in the central wing, in private rooms a bit more spacious than those of the Rangers.

Common Room
The ground floor of the North Wing is taken by the common room, meant for the Rangers to rest in and enjoy each other's company or solitude - at times. It is spacious and has many large windows letting in the light. Several fireplaces have been built along the inner wall, and some armchairs have been placed before each. There are more armchairs, sofas and low tables around the room. Along one of the walls runs a bookcase filled with books for those who enjoy reading. It has a wide variety of literature beginning with some historical records and books on weaponry and ending with some volumes of poetry and fascinating stories.

Housing

Officer Quarters
Room #

North Wing
Room # 2: Ranger Pele
Room # 4: Ranger Ilisys

South Wing
Room # 1: Ranger Unalmis
Ranger Beren
Room # 2: Recruit Dunulf
Room #3: Ranger Mourgan

**Request for a room / changing rooms may be made in the Ranger HQ OOC


TRAINING GROUNDS
In addition to the Training Grounds outside of the white city walls, enclosed by the stone wall perimeter of the Rammas Echor, there is a more compact training ground within the Rangers’ complex. It is located in the vast central courtyard, large enough to maintain separate areas for various fighting disciplines, as well as an archery range and expansive obstacle courses, including for riding.

Shallow pits dotted with practice dummies and revolving poles with horizontal arms are available for sword-, axe-, and agility work. A mock-up of a small fortress stands beside a building façade - these are used in infiltration and siege exercises. On one side stands a long row of storage sheds where replacement dummies and equipment are kept.

The faint ring of hammers is heard around the complex where new additions are being made. The Training Grounds are constantly developing, giving the Rangers a chance to work on more and more skills.

The Purpose of the Training Grounds:
Recruits can train with mentors.
Rangers can sharpen their skills or learn new ones, or spar with one another.
Whole companies can train together and perfect their teamwork.


STABLES


A smell of hay, oats and dark cedar meets anyone entering the stables of the Rangers. Even though there is a long line of stalls meant for the four-legged companions of the humans, not too many of those are occupied. There was enough room also for the horses any other Ranger had brought along, though few had any, since the horses were not of much use in the cobbled streets of the city.

Adjacent to the stables was a barn with the stacks of hay and stubble, and the sacks of grain for the horses. There were also tools for any necessary stable work to be performed: wheelbarrows, shovels and rakes, and an assortment of smaller tools for the purposes of grooming the animals. There was a neat stack of the blankets - for the horses, not for lazy stable-hands - and a great many saddles and other equipment needed to prepare the mounts for riding.


Locations (please post in the color indicated for each location)
HQ (red: #BF0000)
Barracks (blue: #0040BF)
Armoury (grey: #808080)
Training Grounds (green: #008000)
Stables (brown: #804000)

Guidelines for overall thread use:
Always indicate your name, rank, and location at the top of your post.
In character posts only, please.
If you must have an OOC comment, white it out, or even better - post in the HQ OOC thread.

[Ercassie]

Cont. from the Previous thread …

"A few Rangers needed for a scouting mission in Ithilien. If interested, inquire in the office.
Prince Faramir"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ranger Unalmis Raxëlilta
in the office of Prince Faramir
Headquarters @Pele Alarion


The message on the noticeboard could not be mistaken. Neither could the tone of it’s author, sounding from the aforementioned office, after Unalmis had demonstrated rather too great a feat of enthusiasm …. "Now, it is allowed to enter without knocking the door out of its hinges,"

Taking this to be an invitation, the young Ranger straightened up his shoulders, pushed the abused door aside to safety, and entered .. to marvel at one of his childhood idols. It took a moment before he recalled the wisdom in breathing, and the respect he ought be demonstrating to the Prince of Ithilien.

“I know a carpenter who could fix that, if I have done damage, O Prince,” he spoke honestly and, now that he thought about it, as though implying he had done such damage to property before. Since it was too late to retract first impressions, he sought instead to build upon them, for surely he could only do better than he already had. “The intent was not to disturb you, but the message on the noticeboard, .. I felt there might simply be no time to waste. I should like very much to be involved if I may, sir,” Nal put in, the understatement of the century reined in so far as he could manage.

“Alas my tender age robbed me of chance to serve in Ithilien under your charge, but I did manage to complete training just before the war and was employed then wherever use might be found for me. Many treks I have took in the forest though, before and since, under tutelage of veteran Rangers to become familiar with the terrain. I have trained with armour and arsenal in the training ground, I have been abroad with recent mission outside of the city, but my dream has always been to serve my countrymen in the lands of my fathers. In Ithilien.”

The Ranger saw no point in inflating his capabilities save that would only set him up for a fall. He could have spoke more about his preference for obstacle courses, for the ease of climbing, running, anything lively which he had managed to take to as a duck takes to water. He had discovered a talent for those which superseded any long hours he had committed to exploring weaponry. But he doubted that would serve as anything more than bluster at this point. Only one thing mattered.

“If there is any doubt in your mind that I would be an asset on your mission, my Lord, I would say just give me opportunity. To do credit to those who have taken me this far in my career, and to improve from any man, or woman, brave enough to lead me further.”

Brown eyes followed Faramir’s every motion, hung in suspense for a response. There was a sincerity about those eyes, a hunger to be all that the young Gondorian could be. Dark hair framed the earnest face, full of longing, careless of any sense of pride. He would do anything to take up this chance.

“I am sorry,” he put in, rather belatedly recognising that he had not yet apologised. “But I will beat down any door that is closed upon me, in order to do what I have been waiting for, my whole life.”

[Baphởmet]

Caladcyll Markov (potential recruit), arriving at HQ

He took a deep breath. The building was easier to find than he thought it would be, its edifice roaring up like a wild animal amidst the mundane, tame, repetitive buildings on either side. He had left early this morning from the inn in anticipation of getting lost a few times. He was used to the winding streets and harbors of Pelargir, but he was unused to the wild bustling metropolis that Minas Tirith was. His father had warned him that the city would be overwhelming. His father had been right. Caladcyll had arrived on foot the day before; he planned on exploring the city but had been so overwhelmed by the sheer size of the city that he ended up staying at the inn the entire day, gawking out to window. All his years acting as his father’s courier and messenger in Pelargir had not prepared him for this. There were so many people. So many people. There had been a hum in his hometown, the collection of voices, animals, bells, and ships that he had gotten very used to. Here the sound was almost a roar. He had been certain he received more than a few eye rolls from the population as he moved through them with mouth agape. Likely, he’d look back on this first day and laugh at how much of a bumpkin he was.

He took another deep breath. He stood in front of the Headquarters of the Rangers. He wondered if, when he stepped through the barrier, he would feel different. Crossing from one phase of his life into another. He was surprised by the lack of nerves. He was excited, sure, but he had expected himself to be nervous and anxious the closer he came to the building. He expected butterflies in his stomach but the only thing he felt was an overwhelming sense of the sublime. This moment would be auspicious. He was going to remember this moment for the rest of his life. A smile curved the edges of the Dúnedan’s lips. He checked his sword belt for the hundredth time this morning, adjusting then readjusting then checking once more to make sure it was straight. He ran slender, sun-browned finger through ruddy blonde hair. He’d tied it back in a loose ponytail but in the exertion climbing through levels of the city and walking for leagues, a few stray locks had begun to fall across his face. He tied his hair back, pulling just a little too tight as he wrapped the leather cord around.

He then took that step. He misjudged the distance, too focused on making the moment a memorable one to pay attention to the cobblestone street suddenly rising and tripped. With the grace of a cat, though, he caught himself, slamming his booted feet down hard on the ground and steadying himself with a hand on the stone entrance way.

“Auspicious entrance,” he chided himself, using a perfect imitation of the voice of his father. “Want to somersault in? That’d be just as entertaining.” He grumbled, picking himself back up and dusting off. He, again, checked his sword then, once he was sure no one had seen his near spill, continued inside.

The air was different in here; at least it felt that way to Caldcyll. The place was quieter too. The roar of people and animals was muted until the sound was swallowed up by the stone.

It was beautiful in here, he noted absently. He strayed, trying to take in every nook and cranny of this place. The sounds of his footfalls echoed ahead of him. He tired to move lighter on his feet, but still the scraping sounds bounced and bounced off walls, announcing his arrival. “No sneaking up on anyone today,” he muttered to himself with a half bemused, half annoyed sigh.

He only knew to be here at all because his father had drilled it into him, over and over again. He’d announced to his father that he wanted to join the Rangers when he was barely a teenager and from that point on his father, proud and venerable, began to train him as best he could, giving the undersized, skinny boy a foundation. He drilled him with the virtues the Rangers espoused, testing him at every opportunity and every interval. This was Caladcyll’s dream. He was only a few feet away from it now.

Now is when the butterflies began to flitter.

The commander’s office was thunderingly near. Caladycll could feel his heart beating through his chest.

It was then that much of what his father told him about how to proceed his first time fled his mind. He was suddenly aware that he had no idea what to say or how approach whoever it was supposed to approach. He knew enough not to barge into the commander’s office and interrupt whatever meeting they were having, but he also knew that he could not simply stand out in the hallway and declare to the stones that he wanted to be a ranger.

Approaching cautiously, the young man knocked on the casing and coughed hesitantly. He didn’t dare speak, the fear of interrupting something too great. Instead, he took a step back and stood at attention, just the way his father had shown in over and over again.

[Pele Alarion]

Faramir
Headquarters, dealing with young Rangers @Ercassie, @The King in Yellow

The young man who entered seemed to be overflowing with eagerness that might explain his way of knocking. Curious, Faramir crossed his arms and walked around the desk to lean against it closer to Unalmis, as he observed him with a small smile.

"So you did read my note and think I should take you along?" he probed, having listened to his account of training. "Was it your father who taught you some of the forest skills? A worthy man." While Faramir did not feel too convinced about Nal's skills and abilities, he had no reason to keep the young man back - after all actual work in the field was necessary to ensure that Rangers knew how to use their skills in a real setting. Besides, he rather supposed that this would be a training mission of sorts, though even those often turned out to be more adventurous than necessary.

"Well... there's no need to break the door or any other furniture," he eventually said after holding Nal in suspense for a few moments. "If you can talk a couple more Rangers into joining and get yourself out of bed to meet me tomorrow before dawn, just outside the Gate, you can come."

Then another knock came at the door, and Faramir supposed it could be another Ranger itching to get out of the city, or perhaps a recruit?

"Enter!" he called out to let whoever it was know that the door was not locked and entrance was permitted.

[Arnyn]

King Aragorn
Ranger Headquarters, at his unfrequently used office
Timeline: One day before the Rangers' return from the Eastern Menace RPG (well before Faramir's RPG)

The reports of the last mission left Aragorn... flummoxed. There was simply no other word for it.

First there had been Commander Amathen's reports, coming in steadily, albeit with the inevitable delay. Neutral or positive reports, not only including mission updates, but also updates on individual Rangers. Some of those individual Ranger updates had been written by Lieutenant Macardil as well - Aragorn could tell by the different handwriting on those pages.

But it were the last few reports that had unsettled him so. The Rangers who'd gone out on the mission would arrive the next day, but the reports had reached the city a bit sooner.

Aragorn rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. Amathen, a valuable veteran commander, and a good man (of few words, admittedly). Gone. Killed during the third and final altercation. At Bagurzlaam's lair. Not just killed, however - murdered.

Stabbed in the back.

By his own Lieutenant. By the man he had handpicked - the man Amathen himself had been so convinced about. Macardil, who hd been taken prisoner by the other Rangers and was being escorted back to Minas Tirith by the very people he had commanded on the way to the south.

The King put the final report down, which had Pele Alarion's signature at the bottom. Sighing, he walked to his office's solitary window. He had only just started the Rangers of Gondor, or so it seemed, and it was all falling apart again.

On the positive side... they had suffered no other casualties. And they had dealt a heavy blow to this Bagurzlaam's forces, that much was clear. The enemy would be licking their wounds for a good while to come, Aragorn imagined. The Ranger unit had proved itself effective - and hard to kill.

His next moves were clear. Once the Rangers arrived back at Minas Tirith, Lieutenant Macardil would have to be imprisoned and questioned. And Aragorn would speak to the Rangers at Headquarters, the moment they would all report in - which was expected when returning from any mission.
Based on the reports, a number of them had earned accolades. Not to mention, he had a Commander spot to fill.


***Calling the Rangers who participated in the Dangerous Threat / Eastern Menace threads to report to HQ after returning to Minas Tirith from said mission, and "disposing" of their Lieutenant in the Dungeons***

[Ercassie]

Ranger Unalmis Raxëlilta
in the office of Prince Faramir
Headquarters @Pele Alarion

Set before Faramir’s RPG/some time months after the address by King Aragorn
(apologies for the timing of this post)


“I would say 'hope', sir, as much as I might 'think',” Unalmis met Faramir’s scrutiny without losing any shade of confidence. He might even have been said to bask in the Nobleman’s presence, as a blade of grass bends unto a bow before the glory of a brilliant sun.

“I have both my father and some fine family friends to thank,” Nal straightened up a little at the Prince’s remark, undoubtedly proud to be able to make such a report. “They took me to the scene of their own experience, and showed me where they’d done their duty, told me how, taught me why, and bid me listen so that I might one day do the same when my time came.”

But he had never been deployed to Ithilien so far. After all the training, and during all the errands, duties, anything they could put him to keeping out of trouble, not ever yet the one thing he had been waiting upon, yearning for most of all. It felt very much like having done the examination and never learnt if he made the grade. There was only one way to know for sure if all the learning and the longing had been worth it.

“That I can do, absolutely. Sir.” He exploded with a glee that could not be denied. The zealous Ranger ought of course have clarified, whether he meant he was capable .. of breaking all the furniture, or else of seeking further recruits to come upon the venture. One thing was for certain. He could certainly get himself out of bed in time. He likely would not sleep a wink for thinking on it.

Another, far more dignified, knock sounded at the door and the young Gondorian saw himself out, remembering only halfway to the door that he ought commit a hand to heart gesture before the Prince, which he did. The attempt was not so halfhearted as the delay might suggest. If anything, it overcompensated for having forgotten until now. Still, if the smile that Unalmis was wearing as he exited Faramir’s office was any indication at all, then the next young man to enter could suppose no fear in doing so.

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Reporting to the King Aragorn at HQ after the previous mission

Pele was not all that eager to step into the Headquarters this day; while the mission could be technically counted as a success in terms of beating the enemy, yet... The hidden danger from the inside of their own company had taken her quite by surprise, and she had not seen it coming until it was too late. And there had been nothing that could have been done to save the Commander's life. She felt disheartened, disappointed and angry, besides being incredibly weary from the demanding physical exertion required to complete the mission.

Pausing for a moment with her hand on the handle of the familiar door the Ranger took a deep breath to compose herself, hid what she could of her feelings and tiredness under a professional collected appearance, and then stepped into the Headquarters.

Though she still looked somewhat weary, she strode along the hallway with purpose, shoulders squared and her chin up. Another short pause at the door, a knock, and no undue hesitation to follow it up by entering.

"Sir!" Pele spoke by the way of greeting to the King, along with a crisp salute. "Ranger Alarion reporting as requested."

[Arnyn]

Ranger Kaylin
Reporting to the King Aragorn at HQ after the previous mission

What a ride this had been. Kaylin wasn't sure whether she wanted the mission to continue or whether she was glad it had come to a close.

On the one hand, it had been glorious.

A good bit of travel, by boat, by horse - staying at a fort, on the road, in a village; that had been a fun change of pace. And it had been wonderful to share it all with Thûllir.

Not to mention, Kaylin loved herself a good fight, and she'd definitely gotten plenty of those. There had been the first fight at the village. The second one had taken place right before they'd made their way back from the village to the fort; a nasty ambush, though it had been half expected and they'd been as prepared as they could have been. And, finally, a third one at what had seemed like the base of operations for the one who'd been behind the raidings: Bagurzlaam. That fight had been their revenge against the ambush near the fort. And it had been going well - until...

That was the other side of the coin right there, wasn' t it. The Lieutenant had gone and soured the mission. He had inexplicably withdrawn from the front line, giving Bagurzlaam some space to rally a small part of his troops. And then...

Kaylin was aware of her deepening frown as she entered Headquarters, but even her quick wash at home hadn't succeeded in ridding her of it. She'd seen it happen with her own eyes. Lieutenant Macardil had drawn his knife, and he'd plunged it into Commander Amathen's upper back, at the base of his neck. A few of the other Rangers had seen it as well, although not all of them - but the reactions of those who had, had drawn the attention of all soon enough.

Bagurzlaam had escaped with a small retinue of his best fighters.
After their initial shock, part of the Rangers had disposed of their remaining enemies, while another part of them had restrained the Lieutenant and had examined the Commander. By the time they'd gotten to Amathen, however, life had left him.

As for Macardil, he hadn"t put up a fight as they tied his hands. He had hardly spoken since the event, and had simply followed their instructions. All the way back to the White City. Some of the Rangers had tired asking him questions, but he had never answered. They would have to sort it out at some point, however. What was to happen with Macardil now?

Did they even have anyone who qualified as a commanding officer now?

She supposed that was part of why the King was the one receiving them today. Honestly, this part was kind of exciting. She'd seen Aragorn before, but never up close!

[Tharmáras]

Beren Camlost, reporting to King Elessar at HQ after the previous mission

"I can't say the mission was a total waste," Beren assured Isys and Nal while they entered headquarters. Beren remained unscathed the entire quest save for a cut across his his cheek which had been bandaged. "I healed Isys," he remarked, beginning to count off his fingers all the glorious things he had accomplished. "I finally met my son and forged a friendship with him," Beren continued, sounding happier. "I arrested Macardil, too." The Lieutenant had proven to be a traitor, aiding Bagurzlaam and murdering Commander Amarthen. Beren had seen him kill the officer as did Kaylin, two of the few witnesses; some Rangers had not seen this happen.

It was the astonished reactions - such as like Beren's vociferous cursing - of those who saw which alerted plenty to the Lieutenant's unexpected treason. Beren dispatched the surviving enemies with fellow Rangers. As weapons were drawn at Macardil, Beren tied his hands with the hithlain rope Nenmallen had given him years ago which he still often packed on journeys. Macardil didn't resist when he was bound. "You are under arrest for treachery against the Reunited Realm," Beren had told him him coldly than smacked the Lieutenant with a vicious blow of his strong hand. "That's for being a fleeging arse," Beren muttered before the Rangers led him back to the White City.

Beren entered Aragorn's office and stood next to Pele Alarion whom he smiled at and hoped would be the next commanding officer. He restrained a broad grin when facing His Majesty, maintaining his military bearing. "Stri...King Elessar," Beren spoke formally, hand over heart. He almost called Aragorn by the monicker he habitually used Arnor; Beren had often visited his northern kin years ago and had adventures following the Dúnedain Chieftain in Eriador's perilous wilds. Beren had come to Mordor with Halbarad's Grey Company to serve Aragorn in the War of the Ring. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

[Baphởmet]

Caladcyll Markov (potential recruit), HQ

The voice from within the room told him to enter. Butterflies and nerves reached a crescendo in Caladcyll’s stomach. For a long moment, he was frozen with indecision. Part of him wanted to bolt, run out of the room, down the street, and all the way back to Pelargir. It was a small portion of his mind, not persuasive, but very loud. What was it his father had taught him once? Create a void within yourself, feed all your emotions, fears, misgivings, and worries into until there’s nothing left but calm. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t have long, mere moments before whoever was in the office came out looking for him to see if he had in fact run off like a misbegotten child. Calm. Serenity. Placidity. Awareness. He opened his eyes, and the butterflies fled. His hands and fingers tingled with potential energy, radiant and ready for action. He was still nervous, he had not yet perfected his void the way his father had, but his nerves were no longer going to dictate his actions or color his thoughts. Boldly, the young perspective ranger stepped forward, opened the door to the office, and stepped through.

For half a heartbeat, Caladcyll didn’t recognize the man sitting behind the desk. Then the stories his father told about Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, all came back to him. The portrait his father often pointed out in their favorite waterfront restaurant did not do the man justice. He was older than the portrait now, of course, but instead of lines of age and hardship, the young man saw strength, intelligence, and temperance. His nerves crept up, threatening to seize him again but he pushed them down.

He wasn’t sure what the procedure was supposed to be here, what the ceremony or ritual was meant to be. His father, in all his tales about being a Ranger, had never told his son about his actual moment of joining. Were there words he needed to say, salutes he needed to perform? An instant of blind panic grabbed him.

“I’m, my name is Caladcyll Markov, son of Rakunion Markov, retired Ranger. I would like to formally submit my request to join the Rangers, if it please you, Prince Faramir.”

He let out a breath he had been unconsciously holding, his eyes began to wander at all the ornamentation (or lack thereof) within the Prince’s chambers. That was it. The die was cast, he’d crossed the Poros. There was no going back. A strong sense of calm washed over Caldcyll.

[Ercassie]

Ranger Unalmis Raxëlilta
HQ – Reporting to King Aragorn Elessar, after the previous mission.


The young Ranger shifted on his feet as they approached the Headquarters, feeling quite unqualified to enter and unsure what manner of reception their throng might receive. An officer murdered, not by their recognised foe, but by his own subordinate. Unalmis was still troubled in understanding how that might have happened. His face had asked the question that his lips would not raise voice to. Had it been an accident ? In the heat of battle, had the Lieutenant turned, overswift, an Orc stealing ground abruptly out of reach so that .. some terrible mistake perhaps could account for .... For, it could not have been purposeful. Nal simply could not shape that into sense, no matter how many times Beren and Kaylin assured all it was so.

He had no cause to doubt them, any more than he had cause of course, to have ever doubted the lieutenant’s motive. They had all followed the man, obeyed him, put their lives into his hands, and the notion of betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow. So denial fought it’s way to the forefront of all conclusions. They had gone abroad to better know and terminate a threat. Now the truth was that a threat had been amongst their own.

Any other day of any other week, month, year, the prospect of meeting the King, The Returned King, would have conjured cheer out of the deepest gloom. But to present before that King under such circumstances, even Unalmis could not raise a smile. Tomorrow perhaps, when he reflected that they were for the most part, survived and safe. But the King’s decision would today set the tone for how tomorrow now may look.

[Pele Alarion]

Faramir
Headquarters @Ercassie, @The King in Yellow

It seemed to Faramir that Unalmis might have acquired quite some skill, and that he took pride in having learned it from his family members. At any rate he would observe him in action and would surely take note of anything worthwhile to report back in terms of his abilities. The same would surely apply to anyone else joining in.

"Go on then, Ranger," he said, returning the salute which Unalmis had nearly forgotten; not that Faramir would run after him and scold him if he forgot. "I trust that you will do what I've asked, and see you tomorrow." He watched the young man leave and waited a while for the next person to enter, and even considered whether he should call out yet again that they could come in. It turned out to be yet another young man, apparently seeking admission into the Rangers.

"Well met, Caladcyll Markov, son of Rakunion," he responded calmly, clasping his hands on top of the desk, and then proceeded with a couple of questions right away. "Why would you like to choose the Rangers as your way of life? Also, do you know how to handle any weapons already?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Ranger Pele Alarion
Reporting after the mission

The other Rangers began to arrive, one after another, and Pele made a brief eye contact with each as a way of silent greeting. While she honestly wished she could be cheerful, Pele could not help but have the sinking feeling that they had failed as a unit. They had not been able to protect their Commander; and she wasn't altogether sure that being engaged with battling off the enemy qualified as means of any excuse.

While the ensuing chaos had created the opportunity for some of the enemies to get away, Pele wasn't sure that Macardil was in league with them; his orders up to that point had been legitimate and reasonable. Could he have been motivated by some personal grudge? At any rate, there had been nothing that she could do to save Amathen's life when she was finally able to attend - the attack had been well-aimed and deadly. All that was left to do was to report and describe the details of what happened as precisely as possible, and she had taken this unpleasant task upon herself.

Besides the big picture of things, Pele had concerns of a more private nature. She wondered if reports of her own physical condition had reached the city, and whether the King would see it fit to lock her up in the Houses of Healing as a patient, or maybe even deem her unfit for duty no matter how well she had done afterwards? And perhaps, the whole set of experiences behind her loss of fitness would disqualify her should she disclose it more openly?

At any rate, she had arrived at the Headquarters with many unanswered questions and concerns in her mind, with many unknowns of how things would now turn out for her, and for the Rangers in general. Shifting slightly to stand at ease with her hands clasped behind her back, Pele remained silent, choosing not to speak with her comrades and rather simply wait and see whether any answers would soon become clear.

[Baphởmet]

Caladcyll Markov, at HQ

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel the nerves rising in his gut and the fingers on his right hand twitched intermittently, a telltale sign of his nerves for anyone that knew him. Another deep breath, clasping his hand together to keep them from moving, and he was ready. “Being a Ranger has been something I’ve wanted for years,” he began, a little too breathlessly. “My father was a Ranger for years and he told me all about the missions that he went on and, more importantly, why he did it. He told me there was nothing wrong with seeking glory and renown, but being a Ranger was more than just having stories told about you. My father told me that the real reason he joined, and the reason I’ve taken up as well, is so that people will be around to tell those stories, so they can tell stories of the fish they caught, of the deer they hunted, of the house they built. The Markov’s fight so that all the stories that can be told, will be told.” He hoped the response didn’t sound too rehearsed. He knew he’d be asked that question, knew for years, and thusly had spent years trying to come up with a reason, a purpose. His father had helped him along the way, but was firm in his insistence that Caladcyll come up with his reason on his own. He resented the lack of assistance in the beginning, but now, as he was standing before the Prince of Ithilien, he was glad his father had made him work on his own. He felt good, saying his reason for wanting to join the Rangers out loud. He’d practiced in front of mirrors, as a way to occupy his mind on long trips, or when he was having trouble sleeping. It paid off. Slowly, almost sheepishly, Caladcyll smiled.

“As to the weapon,” he said, bring himself back to the present. “I was taught the sword, but I wouldn’t call my skill anything noteworthy, I can at least wield it without cutting my own head off.” He ventured a small chuckle and smile before swallowing and continuing. “And I’m passable with the boarding axe, growing up in Pelargir it’s hard for anyone not to know how to use them. However,” he looked down instinctively to his belt and tapped the well worn hilt. “I only own an arming sword though, the boarding axes were my father’s.”

[Pele Alarion]

Faramir
Headquarters, with Caladcyll

Even if Faramir noticed Caladcyll's nervousness he did not let it show; instead he simply observed and listened intently to the reasoning the young man provided.

"That is a worthy reason," he agreed, a slight nod of head and a smile to reflect Caladcyll's supporting his words. "People who live their daily lives may continue doing so if there are people protecting them from hostile forces." The Prince could have spoken of such times when protection would come too late, of losses, of desperation. There would be time later for such things.

"Well, you have some skill to start off with at any rate then," he concluded in relation of the weapons handling. "If you do decide to continue your pursuit of joining the Rangers, you will be able to find uniform and weapons at the armoury. Do you undertake and swear to be faithful to Gondor; to protect it with all your strength, health and life; do you undertake to fulfil your duties to the best of your abilities, and to obey the orders given to you?"

[Arnyn]

King Aragorn
Ranger Headquarters, at his unfrequently used office
Timeline: One day before the Rangers' return from the Eastern Menace RPG (well before Faramir's RPG)

Not surprisingly, probably, Ranger Pele Alarion was the first to report in. Pele had a long track record of service, in different forms of the Gondorian forces, and was a known face to all. Aragorn noted, however, that she did not seem to happy to be in his office. Perhaps this was because of the events she had described to him in the last report. Or perhaps, it was due to one of the reports he'd received beforehand, concerning her condition. The King didn't let anything other than a friendly yet official demeanour shine through his expression at the moment. He gave her a nod. "Greetings, Ranger Pele."

He was just about to say he hoped the others would be there soon, when Ranger Kaylin Maethyr entered. He acknowledged her like he had done with the first arrival. Kaylin saluted - there was a twinkle in her eye. This one didn't seem too affected by the happenings on the mission then. Or, at least, she had found a way to compartmentalize it. Kaylin had an excellent state of service within the old Gondorian military.

Ranger Beren Camlost was the third to arrive. This one the King knew from his past. "Ranger Beren Camlost," he replied to the man's greeting. He had helped one of the Rangers with her injuries after one of the fights, Aragorn remembered from the reports. He'd also be one of the Rangers to restrain the Lieutenant after his act of treason.

As more and more Rangers were filing in, Aragorn waited patiently. He ordered them out into the main room of HQ soon, however, since the office was soon getting too crowded.

When the group was complete, or at least nearly complete, Aragorn called them to attention.

"You've all returned from a mission that resembles a one-edged blade. On the one hand, you were successful in driving the enemy from our southern lands. On the other, you were cut - by the loss of your Commander."

"Commander Amathen was a man of few words, but one of the most capable men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You've suffered a great loss."

"As for Lieutenant Macardil. Has he been encarcerated?"



Ranger Arnyn
Reporting to King Aragorn Elessar after the mission

Arnyn arrived just after the King had ordered the already present Rangers out into the main area of Headquarters. Part of her was glad that she had been one to volunteer to deliver the Lieutenant to the dungeons, because the last time she'd seen the King had been years ago, when she'd handed in her resignation as Commander. Even though she figured he couldn't be too displeased with her, since she'd been invited to this new form of the Rangers, it still felt bizarre.
She entered just behind Thûllir and Ziran, who'd been the other two Rangers who'd been part of the Lieutenant's escort.

It was a reaction of pure instinct, instantly replying the King.

"Yes, Sir. Ranger Karis, Thûllir and myself saw him to the dungeons and left only once he had been locked behind bars. A brief report was filed with the Dungeon Master to make sure they know the extent of his crime, and explains why we three reported in on the later side."


King Aragorn

"Excellent, Ranger Arnyn, as well as Rangers Karis and Thûllir."

"None of you are to refer to him as Lieutenant any longer. I strip him of all rank - he is now simply Macardil, a citizen of Gondor who had committed treason to the Reunited Kingdom." He paused as his grey eyes flitted over those of the gathered Rangers. "He will need to be interrogated. I don't think anyone in your ranks was part of his treason, but if any other Gondorian is involved, we need to find out. We WILL find out."

He let that sink in for a moment.

"Furthermore, I would like to thank you all for heeding my call and your service in this mission. Each one of you was crucial to its success, and driving Barguzlaam away from our people. At least for the time being," he added.

"Based on the reports I received from your late Commander, I have a few announcements.

Please step forward, Rangers Ilisys Azrubêl (@Ercassie), Karis Ziranphel (@Karis Ziranphel ), Azdiur (@Azdiur), Kaylin Maethyr, Hirluin (@Nen), Morwen Daegomir, Zevarion Grey (@Burnt Toast), Arnyn Dealedwen and Pele Alarion (@Pele Alarion)."

[Baphởmet]

Caladcyll Markov, Recruit at HQ

Unconsciously, Caladcyll’s chest swelled with pride. He knew that being a Ranger was more than doing heroic things, that sometimes being a Ranger was a terrible burden because all that had to be done, and all that couldn’t be done. He was idealistic yes, but his father had made sure that he was aware of the pitfalls and dangers of being a Ranger that did not include falling off a horse or getting stabbed. Yet still, the desire to join was strong. Indeed it had never been stronger. He’d imagined this moment in his head at least half a hundred times, standing before a commander (never in his wildest imaginings did he think he would be speaking with Prince Faramir of all people!) and being asked if he was willing to serve. Despite the solemn moment, the young man could not help but allow a small smile across his lips.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up and looked forward with as much formality as he could muster. “I swear to be faithful to Gondor, to protect it with all my strength, health, and life if necessary. I swear to fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities and obey the orders given to me.”

Despite merely repeating the words Prince Faramir spoke, Caladcyll felt the gravity and seriousness of the oath. The words came easy to his lips and hung in the air, suspended like snowflakes drifting down from the welkin. The act of speaking those words transformed him. Caladcyll felt different after speaking them, as if he’d grown older or matured in the space of a deep breath. The weight of his words hung on his shoulders, the seriousness and dedication required to uphold the oath he’d spoken.

“By your leave, Prince Faramir,” he bowed his head respectfully. “I will make for the armory straight away to be fitted for the uniform.”

[Ercassie]

Ranger Ilisys Azrubêl
attending the King's address, Headquarters

She had wandered in with the rest of the Rangers, even as the King commandeered the greater Headquarters space to accommodate his gathering. Ilisys looked about her, about their weary crowd, aware that something grand was going on, but without the proper faculties to appreciate the details of it. The last thing she recalled with any clarity was letting that brute of an Orc escape her at the first assault, back at the village. All was a painful and confusing blur since then, and though much had been circulated and whispered and theorised since, Isys clung to the last thing she knew with any certainty.

When she heard her name, small steps took her from obscurity near the back of the room, to face what she assumed must be some reproach from the handsome man at the front of the room. She really ought not to have let that Orc get away.

[Pele Alarion]

]Faramir
Headquarters with Caladcyll @The King in Yellow

Faramir watched Caladcyll intently as the man repeated the words of oath and surmised that he appeared earnest in what he undertook by it. Rising from his seat, he took a step out from behind the desk.

"Welcome into the Rangers, Caladcyll! I will write your details in the roster and notify the command," the Prince said. "Go on, get the uniform, some weapons, you can also request a room at the barracks if you are in need of accommodations."

He paused and was ready to dismiss the new recruit, and then added: "If you are willing to do some training on the go and if you are ready to start your duties right away, you can join me tomorrow before dawn, just outside the Gates. I'm gathering a few Rangers for an assignment in Ithilien. Otherwise, feel free to go and get yourself sorted."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ranger Pele Alarion
Headquarters; with the King and other Rangers after the mission

There was nothing in the King's greeting and attitude that would help Pele determine what she should expect as a result of this meeting, and did nothing to make her more comfortable. Only time would tell, she supposed, and waited patiently as more Rangers arrived and began to fill up the room.

Soon they had to move into a bigger space, and the King spoke to them about their leaders. Once again Pele felt unhappy that she had not been able to do anything to save Amathen, but then again there was only that much that any human could achieve in such matters.

When Arnyn reported on having handed Macardil over to the dungeons; and Aragorn's further words about his treason made Pele realise that she had not really considered a possibility of a well-planned scheme with involvement of several people, and who knew - perhaps even organisations. This definitely would pose a problem, and should be investigated; if only Macardil was willing to speak.

A few of them were then called forward, and Pele found herself hesitating for a moment, her thoughts called back to the present from trying to conjure all the possible implications of Macardil's traitorous behaviour.

She then followed Ilisys forward, inspecting her friend with a concerned look. The injuries she had received had all but made her unable to wield any weapons for the time being, and she meant to ensure that the woman was well tended at the Houses of Healing. Once satisfied that Ilisys was not about to faint right away, Pele turned her attention back to the King.

[Moriel]

Headquarters
Aragorn's office after the mission

Kamion was late. It was one of his least favorite things to be, but at times it couldn’t be helped. And when Faran took it into his head to start tearing the stable apart, there was nothing for it but for Kamion to intervene and calm the temperamental horse, murmuring to him in soothing tones about how lucky he was that he was such an excellent campaigner, or he would have been dogmeat long ago. Once the stables were no longer in danger of destruction by an army of one gelding, Kamion hastened to the commons, where those who had taken part in the latest ill-fated mission, the first of the King’s new force, had been summoned by Aragorn to his chamber in the headquarters- to account, perhaps, though the Dúnadan knew Pele had written an exhaustive report on the events that had so unexpectedly occurred. Kamion’s mind continued to churn over them, as it had since Macardil had plunged his blade into Amathen. There had been nothing to be done for the Commander, and Kamion had held his fellow veteran’s hand as the life drained from his eyes. Over fifty years in service, and it never got easier. With a silence that belied his size, Kamion slipped into King Elessar’s office, in time to hear Arnyn inform Aragorn that Macardil had been incarcerated without incident. Upon hearing the King’s assertion that the former Lieutenant would need to be interrogated, Kamion nodded, his jaw set in the only outward sign of his anger at the man’s betrayal- that, and a brief flash in his cobalt eyes. At the back of the group, the Dúnadan watched as his fellows, summoned by Aragorn, stepped forward.

[Arnyn]

King Aragorn
At Ranger HQ - after the last mission

When the called upon Rangers had stepped forward and lined up, Aragorn took a small pouch from the back of his belt and opened it. He approached Isys first.

"Ranger Ilisys Azrubêl," he greeted her personally as he retrieved a badge from the pouch. "Being wounded has no impact on witnessed skill with your weapon. As was Commander Amathen's wish." A slight smile. "I hereby grant you the Ehtyar specialization." He pinned the badge on the front of her shoulder.



"Ranger Karis Ziranphel," the King said as he moved along the line and took out a different badge. "Your arrows were true this mission, and it did not go unnoticed. You have earned the Cúner specialization." After pinning it on her shoulder, he gave her a nod.



"Ranger Azdiur." Again, a different type of badge was in order. Once he found the Yantyar sigil, Aragorn locked eyes with the man. "New to Minas Tirith ranks, but you've proven invaluable. Congratulations, Yantyar." It looked right on the man's shoulder.

"Ranger Pele Alarion." The same badge, this time, albeit for a different reason. "The skill of a healer is just as invaluable; you were the one who brought that to this mission, more than any other. You've earned the Yantyar specialization." Once he'd pinned the badge on Pele, he gave her a pensive nod.



"Ranger Kaylin Maethyr." His pouch was still heavy with a number of badges to bestow. "Still an enthusiastic presence in battle, I've been told. I grant you the Hyandaner specialization." Her eyes shone brighter than the badge on her shoulder, the King thought to himself.

"Ranger Hirluin. Your skill with a blade caught the eye of your commander. Congratulations, Hyandaner." The Hyandaner badge suited him.

"Ranger Morwen Daegomir. You caught the eye of your commander as well. You did well, and I hope you will not leave our ranks any time soon." He pinned the Hyandaner badge on her shoulder.

"Ranger Zevarion Grey. He is more skilled than he looks, I believe one of the Commander's reports noted." The King smiled. "I've always thought outward appearances aren't all they're chalked up to be. Well done, Hyandaner." Soon, the badge gleamed on Zev's shoulder.

"Ranger Arnyn Dealedwen. I am certain you will be pleased to have this back, even if just in title. After all, you never did hand in your Hyandaner badge when you resigned. I gladly grant you the Hyandaner specialization." With a slight smile, Aragorn pinned a new badge on her shoulder.



Once he'd handed out the specializations, the King took a step back, to give them a moment.

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Headquarters, after the last mission

It seemed that the commanders had written a plenty of reports back home, and it was all very good, as apparently some good came of it as well in a form of badges.

"Thank you, my King," Pele responded when her turn came, briefly meeting Aragorn's eyes. "I am honoured to serve." While her words sounded serious, there was a glint of joy in her eyes, as her fingers lightly traced the badge for a brief moment.

Yes, she would have been happy to be among the Hyandaner, yet it was better to always play to the current strengths; and she could do the healing even if she were not that good at wielding a sword for the time being. There was definitely a time and place for each skill. Besides, this achievement, the badge in a way provided her a sort of an anchor, another building block for the foundation she was setting to rebuild the life, even her own self, that seemed to have been shattered to pieces.

And yet, the King must have also heard that she could not perform as well in some other areas. Pele did not quite feel let off the hook yet and wondered if something less pleasant would follow. Even so, she was determined to get herself back into the best shape in all aspects, without a formal reprimand or strict orders from the King. There was work to be done; but presently, a moment to savour.

Once everyone had received their specialisations and badges, Pele turned around to look at the others. "A nice variety of skills represented," she said to everyone in general, while trying to decide which one of the comrades she should attack with congratulations first.

[Turin Ringhûn]

Turin Ringhûn, reporting to King Elessar at HQ after the previous mission

“I have no idea why I even am going to this." Turin thought as he walked toward the headquarters. He was practically utterly useless in that quest. Even though time had passed, he still had no memory of leaving the fort. And after he woke, finding himself in a tent and told he was done for the mission and was told he was not cleared to continue fighting, he felt like an utter failure. He’d heard that his old friend Beren had arrested Macardil for betraying the group. “The Lieutenant was found to be a traitor, and had aided Bagurzlaam, not to mention murdered Commander Amarthen.” Turin thought to himself. None of it made sense. The two officers had seemed like decent folks. But then again, you could never tell about people.

Thankfully, Turin was able to return to the White City under his own power and was not in need of a litter. He’d been given orders from Pele to take things easy for a while, but he did not see himself following those orders. He’d tried getting information as to what had happened to him during the time he had no memory of. It seemed that while in the town he’d gone with the Lieutenant with, and was ambushed. While fighting against some orcs, he mis stepped and received a bad blow to the head. There was some other minor wounds as well, but the one to his head was the concerning one.

Turin entered Aragorn's office and stood at the back of the room. He lightly shook his head. An utter failure he was. And all that boasting he’d claimed about being the former captain of the swordsman. But then again, he’d had mentioned to his wife, and others the, saying, ‘pride comes before the fall.’ And a further saying, ‘hubris guarantees disaster.’

“My Lord King Elessar," Turin said formally, hand over his heart. "Reporting as ordered, sir." He then watched as the King went down the line awarding other Rangers for their deeds.

[Moriel]

Headquarters
Aragorn's office

Kamion beamed as Ilisys was awarded her Ehtyar badge- no less than she deserved! She was a woman to be watched an a warrior or formidable skill. It seemed that the King was intending to retain some elements of the old army after all, at least when it came to specializations, if not full divisions. Aragorn moved down the line of those he had called, naming the deeds of each and bestowing their badges upon them. The Dúnadan nodded or smiled with each award; the reports to the King of each ranger’s performance on the ultimately ill fated mission had not gone amiss, and there was no award which Kamion thought undeserved. But, an unlooked-for and unwanted twinge made itself known in his belly. Ever since he had been old enough to serve- years before any of those who now stood proudly with badges gleaming upon their shoulders had been born- Kamion has served the White City in its ranks steadily and in good faith, performing his duty to the best of his ability and in whatever manner had been asked of him. He had come to service fully trained in the sword, and spent long years as a sergeant training others in addition to ordinary martial duties, never seeking fame or promotion, content to lead from within the ranks rather than at their front, fulfilling what he felt was his calling as an ordinary man.

Humbleness and devotion to duty were virtues which his father had instilled in Kamion from his earliest days. And yet, he thought uncomfortably, striving to push down the twinge in his gut, had he known that specializations were being handed out today, he would have expected to be returned to the ranks of the Hyandaner. Had he done something wrong? Did Aragorn have some other plan for him? Or was it simply not yet his turn for the King to decide what to do with him? Insecurity had never been much of a presence in Kamion’s life, but the end of the war and the disbanding of the army had left plenty of people awash in a sea of uncertainty, and he felt it now lapping about his ankles. Still, one thing had not changed: he would serve the City, and its King, however was asked of him, and without complaint. Whatever plan, or lack thereof, there was for him, would become clear in time. The Dúnadan stepped forward to join the rest in their congratulations of the honorees, and let his hand fall on Zev’s shoulder in a comradely clap.

“Well done,” he said, the corners of his cobalt eyes crinkling in a smile, “Well done, and well deserved.” Kamion nodded to Morwen, and then to Pele. “A change for you, but an earned one. Someone has to keep us in one piece!”

[Isolde Alarion]

Headquarters
Mourgan Alarion
reporting to the King after the last mission

He knew he was late and he inwardly berated himself as he approached the door. Entering with as little noise as he could muster since it seemed the King was speaking and handing out badges and words of praise, he didn't wish to draw attention to himself nor inturrupt the proceedings.
He took his place at the back of the gathering. Listening to the Kings words and nodding inwardly his approval he simply took it all in.

His thoughts did slightly wander to the missions events and the shocking happening. You could never tell about people, he had held the Lieutenant in high regard up until that point. The return seemed to him to be a blur, lost in his thoughts of the happening. He'd also come out the other end of the battle with little damage. The usual scraps, cuts and bruises but nothing he thought needed to bother a healer for, they had their hands full as it was.

His brown eyes moved back to the moment at hand and he moved forward to congratulate Pele and the others. "Well deserved Pele." He smiled at her. He was proud of his Aunt and knew how hard she worked to keep them all on their feet.

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Headquarters, with the King after the mission

"A little bit unusual, yes," Pele responded to Kamion, "but I really don't mind making sure you are all fit and cared for." Yet, she could not help but think that it was rather ironic that she could take care of others and yet was not very good at keeping track of her own wellbeing. Apparently she needed someone to look after her as well, to help with her with weaknesses she had not been too keen to deal with even when identified.

"Thank you, Mourgan," she said to him with a small smile. "So now I have official grounds to chase you around with some bandages and ointments, yes?"

"Azdiur," the Ranger then turned to the comrade who had earned the same specialization as her though for showing skills that would cause her great difficulties if she were required to use those. "Very well deserved!"

Then she stepped over to Karis: "I never even thought of doubting that you could wield a bow with excellence, so this recognition is no surprise."

"Isys, I hope the badge give you at least some satisfaction for that effort and some comfort for being on the receiving end of that orc's weapons," she said to the newly appointed Ehtyar, and then leaned in to say more quietly: "Do check in with the Houses of Healing after, at least there is medical stuff available that might we might not have on the field."

Having reached the nearest end of the line, Pele turned back to head in the opposite direction and came to stand with Kaylin. "Well... who would've thought that you could be deadly with blades," she told the redhead, glint in her eyes and a faint grin adding a considerable amount of humour to the words. "In addition to coming up with mischief and... having an excellent ability to win the dice games. There should be a specialization for that too!" Pele was sure her friend would know exactly what she meant, that she was proud of Kaylin's achievements.

[Ercassie]

Ranger Ilisys Azrubêl - Ehtyar
attending the King's address, Headquarters

She closed her eyes, lowered her head in a subtle incline, during the small time that the King, Elessar held them in anticipation. A slow return to the world around her found the man himself, stood within reach, and in the moment when Isys felt she might expect some remonstration, there was only reassurance. There was also commendation, in the same breath as there was condolence. Her suggestion of a smile softened into somber understanding.

“You are my King,” was her only response, as though it might be all that she could manage to comprehend, with a flutter of barely caught breath. Or that in fact he was the cause for her actions. The greater respect owed to the monarch even at the point of her own recognition, for it was come from his hallowed lips. If she had been anything else, he made a new truth; she was Ehtyar. And her words were her own truth. He was her King. She was His Ehtyar. “For Gondor,” she awaited until his hands left her shoulder, before dropping in a curtsey of unspoken gratitude.

Isys stayed low as he carried out the remainder of his accolades, and if there were any who suspected this was just the latest example of Belfalasian theatrics, they were too kind or distracted by the ongoing ceremony to laugh. Pele though was kind enough to lean in and suggest further medical treatment. The Ehtyar could not ignore such suggestion made the new Yantnar, and her closest grasping hand ascended the height of her spear, proving yet how flexible and useful her favourite tool could prove, on reclaiming her full height. Hopefully it might aid her all the rest of the way to the Houses of Healing. For she had no wish to be inconvenienced by injury for any longer than she needed to.

Ranger Unalmis Raxëlilta
attending the King's address, Headquarters

The scene transposed with thrilling speed from apprehension toward celebration and the young man wasted no time in his own relief at the change. For all the respect which was referenced for their late Commander, the emergence of new hope took precedence. A thing all ought perhaps to have expected from such a leader as their King. Nal observed the recognitions with a growing want to fling some thing into the air in excitement yet, having only weapons to hand, the plan was wisely discarded. Also there still was, yes, the matter of the Lieutenant, and the passing of his victim. Maybe best to stifle some exuberance then. Some only.

It did not halt him from smiling as Pele spoke with her friends, with jovial threats of healing attention. “I should have known it would take you only seconds to make good use of this advancement,” he laughed, and offered a nod of respect to those others who had gained achievement in their fields. Noting that Isys’s face though was white as a sheet, he helped her back toward the back of the room, where they (and any unexpected swoon) might not be forefront of the scene, should the King wish to continue his oration.

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Headquarters, King's address

"Well, it is not like this is something new," Pele chuckled softly at Unalmis. "The badge only confirms what I've done all along, but now I can do it with more intensity, perhaps." And she fully meant to do this, when they were dismissed, and make sure that everyone was well.

Then she turned to congratulate the remaining comrades, beginning with Hirluin. While she did not know the man much, Pele had seen his skill and ability and acknowledged it with a respectful nod.

"You two... always sticking together it seems. Pretty effective though!" she said to the unlikely team of Zev and Morwen. Quite by habit, her blue eyes looked them both over for any possible injuries they might be hiding from her, no matter how hard she tried not to go all out healer here, as this was not the place and the time for it.

"Arnyn," she came last to her friend, grasped her arm, and then pulled her in for a careful hug. "I don't think I can imagine you as not being a Hyandaner, ever. So this is most fitting and proper."

Stepping back, she aimed to find a place somewhere at the back until such time as they would be dismissed; mostly to keep in a quiet out-of-the-way place, as well as keep an eye on Isys.

[Rune Eisahn]

Rune Eisahn
Headquarters

Though he had visited many times over the last decade, the White City was still unfamiliar to Rune. He never had reason to commit it's many thousands of twists and turns to memory; he barely knew the names of the major thoroughfares. That wasn't the case in Umbar, where ones knowledge of it's streets and alleyways could spell salvation as easily as death. Minas Tirith, however, was not Umbar and Rune had come to accept that.

In that way, the fact he had become lost and redirected three separate instances on his way to the Ranger headquarters was ultimately of little concern. Whereas ordinarily, in his youth, Rune's body would be taut with tension in anticipation of danger, now he was as light as a leaf in the wind. Each misstep may as well be the start of an adventure and, though Rune knew that even the White City wasn't without it's criminals, he was confident in his ability to handle anything thrown his way.

Finally, Rune made it to the Rangers headquarters - having gained directions and a half loaf of freshly baked bread from the sweetest old Gondorian woman up the street. I need to repay her somehow, Rune thought to himself, in spite of the woman expressing no need of it. He stood outside for about a minute, rubbing at his chin, and rehearsing what he needed to say. It wasn't that he was concerned about offering the skill and experience of his body and mind to the defense of Gondor and her peoples. No, he was concerned about any complications his prior affiliations with Umbar and Harad might create. After all, it was rare for anyone of those lands to willingly venture into Gondor's borders, let alone remain in them, and Rune was not ignorant of the history between Gondor and their southern neighbors. For all he knew, they may think him an infiltrator with intent to sow discontent and chaos among their ranks.

"It'll be fine," said Rune. "I'm just a humble man tying to do what he can for a better world."

He pushed the door open and entered the building. Thankfully, as those who founded Gondor were of Numenorian descent, Gondor was built to accommodate taller than average men so there was no need for him to duck his head upon stepping through the doorway. Making sure that the glove for his left hand was secure, pushed the door forward and strode with purpose.

Road-worn boots clacked against the floor amidst the low din of the building, the scent of pipe-weed wafting lazily atop the aroma of oiled leather and good wood. Rune dressed in the ways of the wild, light and versatile. A dirty cloak atop a leather tunic over a light coat of mail, sword and dagger at the belt, and an assortment of smaller knives and tools in a pouch strapped to his right leg. He made sure kindness was reflected in his gaze, though he made no point to attempt hiding the age-old weariness that crept into the corners his his eye. There was no hiding it, carved into his being - body and soul.

Rune espied an individual who he assumed, from their lack of armor and their civilian air, to be a clerk.

"Greetings and well-wishes, friend," he said, "my name is Rune Eisahn. My journeys have taken me far and wearily through Middle-Earth to this very moment; I wish to offer my life and blade to the defense of the White Tree and those who seek shelter amongst its roots."

[Pele Alarion]

Unnamed clerk with Rune Eisahn
Headquarters

While she lacked military bearing and clothing, the woman sitting at the desk still looked very prim and proper, and orderly to a fault. She had heard of 'attention to detail' one too many times, and had perfectly adjusted to this requirement until it had become her second nature.

In similar fashion, she always found something to do, even when there were not many visitors to attend to, but it was nice to see a human face now and again, so she took Rune's arrival with quiet gladness.

"Welcome to the Ranger Headquarters, Rune Eisahn," she said, though she remained seated, hands neatly folded on the desk. "If you seek to enlist, you should go on to the commander's office located at the end of the hall and to the left," the clerk turned and pointed to the door she had mentioned.

Pele Alarion
Commander's Office

Ever since she had been given her orders, Pele wondered whether she should consider those as a punishment (having to deal with the paperwork and spending time in the office was not her favourite part of the Ranger life), or as an honour (since she had been given access to confidential papers and such). Here she was nonetheless. The former commander had kept everything neat, so there had not been much work, yet she had spent hours reading through reports in hopes of finding any clues as to why Macardil had done the deed. She had not found anything useful.

Feeling a bit weary from reading through countless reports, Pele leaned back in her chair, slipped her feet out of the boots and propped them on the desk, and closed her eyes for a moment. She could only hope that no one would rush through the door without knocking, so that she can quickly get herself looking proper again without any embarrassment. Or perhaps she should take a break and go find a cup of tea. There was still a small pile of reports to look through, and having some tea before that would surely not go wrong.

[Rune Eisahn]

Rune Eisahn
Headquarters

Smiling at the clerks response, Rune bowed once again. Considering the dangers ever at the edges of Gondor's borders, as well as the kingdom's various commitments to its allies, he had believed his acceptance into the Rangers ranks to be handled by the lower levels of administrative staff. The burden of command was a heavy thing, after all, and he was aware that the purposeful delegation of tasks was essential to the efficiency of a force as large as the Rangers.

"Thank you for your assistance, miss. I'll be on my way to the Commander's office," he said.

Pivoting on his heel, Rune walked in the direction of the Commander's office. There was no denying he was caught off-guard with his impromptu meeting with them, but there was nothing more to do at this point other than swallow whatever doubt or hesitation he possessed and continue forward. As liked to tell those who'd listen, it was better to do a thing than live in fear of doing it.

At the end of the hall, the Commander's door was ajar, which Rune took as a sign that they weren't busy. So, following a series of three knocks, he pushed the door open fully to see a woman sitting casually behind a desk littered with papers, legs propped up and her bootless feet in the air for all to see. Unable to decide whether he should cringe in embarrassment for her or if he should just let the humorous chuckle out of his chest, he settled for a raised eyebrow and an unjudging smile.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your . . ." he cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed slightly in thought, "work, but my name is Rune Eisahn." He bowed to the woman, bending low at the waist as was the fashion of servants in the South - an old habit from his youth that seemed to only come out when he was nervous or embarrassed, nowadays. "My journeys have taken me far and wearily through Middle-Earth to this very moment; I wish to offer my life and blade to the defense of the White Tree and those who seek shelter amongst its roots," he said, repeating the same words uttered to the clerk not but a few moments prior. He'd spent all morning working on it and wasn't about to let that go to waste.

Finally, he knelt, to both demonstrate the seriousness of his words and also to avoid looking the Commander in the eyes any longer than he had to. If he was uncomfortable, whatever the reasons, then he couldn't imagine how she must be feeling.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele Alarion
Headquarters - Commander's Office

She had dared to relax but for a moment, and the knock on the door brought her sharply back to awareness of the surroundings. Her ears seemed to burn with sudden embarrassment when Rune entered, yet she decided it was better not to make a fuss about it.

The matter was serious (though it was difficult to think of anyone coming here without a good reason), and Pele removed her feet from the desk in one smooth movement and slipped them back into her boots, before standing up and running her hand over the uniform to make sure she was presentable.

"Well, technically a break during the work..." she said, a small grin playing on her lips. "Not an easy feat to sort through all the stuff accumulated in this office." She was very well aware that there were no excuses for her little slip-up in her typically serious and proper conduct, and she did not even attempt to look for excuses.

However, she felt even more embarrassed by Rune's kneeling, and after a moment of bemused silence, she lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. "Why, do get back on your feet," Pele urged him. "While I am not a commander, I have been tasked with filling in for some duties and am authorised to accept any new recruits, if should be. I am Ranger Pele Alarion," at least she had enough wits about her to at least present her name.

Taking a step back, she regarded Rune with seriousness required by the situation. "Do stand up, and tell me a bit more about yourself. Did you start out on your travels from here, and what caused you to return and decide to join the Rangers? What weapons can you handle and with what efficiency?" Pele questioned him, her blue eyes reflecting true interest.

[Rune Eisahn]

Rune Eisahn
Headquarters - Commander's Office

"Do stand up, and tell me a bit more about yourself."

Ranger Alarion's cool head prevailing in the fervor of embarrassment was enough cause to settle Rune's own nerves. He rose with a grace belied by his stature, meeting her blue gaze with his own winter-spring green.

"Did you start out on your travels from here, and what caused you to return and decide to join the Rangers? What weapons can you handle and with what efficiency?"

At that, a smile framed Rune's features - weary as the setting sun. He spread his arms wide. "I'm afraid, Ranger Alarion, that I am no son of Gondor. Instead, I am a lost child of the south swept away by the tides of the Rusted City, the Pirate Haven Umbar. There, I was raised from early youth to lie, cheat, steal, and murder for the sake of survival and usefulness to my former masters." He paused, letting that statement hang in the air. His time as a slave in Umbar was something he did his best not to verbalize, these days. "I will not elaborate upon them more than needed, but suffice to say that over the course of my lifetime I've been the property of three individuals - all of them vile. In their name or by their direction, I helped sow much of the chaos that continuously circulates Umbar and the surrounding regions." He looked away from the Ranger then, brows furrowed. "I've done terrible things, in the light of day and shadow of night, and their echoes chase me to this day."

Rune pushed the memories of his dark deeds, enemies, and unlikely friendships aside.

"I was freed from bondage - not from the goodwill of my then master, mind you - a little more than twenty years ago." He said, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind adding, "Seven thousand, four hundred and fifty six days, to be exact". Rune grimaced at the memory of that, a mess of blood, water, and ruined wood. "I've wandered the lands of Gondor ever since, doing my best to familiarize myself with the land and the people who call it home. From Pelargir and to Minas Tirith I've done the occasional odd job, though unfortunately most of my skill and experience lie in warfare. Thus I've plied my craft as a guard for merchant caravens, my travels taking me from here all the way to Eriador."

Rune took a deep breath. "To answer your question directly, I've come to join the Ranger's to help create a world where no native son or daughter of Gondor can be kidnapped and pressed into service for the darker forces at work in the world. I want to work towards Gondor's safety and prosperity. My skills are many; I am proficient with a blade, spear, and bow - though I must admit, with some modicum of modesty, that I am most skilled with a blade. In addition, I am well versed with scouting and military logistics from my time serving with a Haradrim mercenary band."

"At present, I am willing to lend whatever aid is required of me to the Rangers. As the Commander-" Rune paused at that, remembering her earlier words. "Though you may not be the Commander in an official capacity, Ranger Alarion - or should I refer to you as Pele? - you're taking on their duties when no other is would make you Commander nonetheless, in a sense. In which case, you know your force best. Please, direct me, and I swear I will do everything in my power to work for the goals of our people and King."

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Headquarters - Commander's Office

She had asked the question, and yet she wished she had not for the answers provided proved rather not what she had expected and seemed to cut open her slowly healing internal wounds. Pele listened to everything Rune had to say, and then took a couple of steps to look out the window, turning her back on him so he would not see her turmoil.

The first thought that had come into her mind was that Relic had devised a new way to get to her again, sending someone to infiltrate the Rangers, and she would not be surprised at that. And yet, Rune seemed to be sincere, almost to the smallest unpleasant details. Would someone sent as a spy set out all their background like that?

Pele found it difficult to make a decision, and yet it was up to her, and it had to be dealt with one way or another, with the best in mind for the Rangers and for Gondor. Closing her eyes for the brief moment and taking two deeper breaths, she then looked out at the yard, squared her shoulders and turned back to the waiting man.

"You can call me Pele everywhere else, except for this office," she began with the easiest part of the conversation, and then moved on to more difficult issues. "You said you have been brought up to do terrible things from early youth - does it mean that you were born in Umbar, or were you brought there as a child?" she asked, looking at him searchingly. "Also... how can I be assured that you have truly changed your ways, that you had done those things only to survive, and that you would uphold your oaths to Gondor?"

While the question itself challenged Rune's motivation, Pele's voice was gentle; she knew better than to dish out broad stereotypes to sort people under, and she very well knew how it felt to be questioned and examined, especially in relation to Umbar. Though in her case, it was she that judged herself most severely, and she still had to convince herself that it was no fault of hers that she had been all but snatched away.

[Rune Eisahn]

Rune Eisahn
Headquarters - Commander's Office

Regardless of what some might say, Rune was no fool. There was no denying the tension, however carefully concealed by Pele, that settled onto her shoulders over the course of his brief autobiography. What was affecting her so was beyond him, though he'd hazard a guess that he had triggered some concern of collaboration with the Enemy. It wasn't the first instance such a thing had occurred and wouldn't be the last.

Rune took another deep breath. He had nothing to hide from the Commander and, should his commitment to the Ranger cause be truly called into question, he was prepared to do what was necessary to position himself favorably. In his experience, those situations tended to be suicidal from a life-preserving standpoint but one didn't survive as long as he had by sticking to the odds.

His expression darkened, not from anger - years had tamed that blaze to a near placid boil - but sorrow as Pele questioned the finer details of his ties to Umbar. "While I cannot recall my age, not for lack of trying mind you, I was definitely a child when I was brought beneath it's shadow." Deep breaths were his best friend, long and slow. As she challenged the depth of his convictions, a weary smile graced his face.

"I can provided no greater assuredness of my changed ways than the truth of my words and actions," said Rune. It wasn't the answer she'd want to hear, it didn't take a scholar to know that, but it was the best he could do. Though the darkness that tainted had tainted his life was not born of his own choice, there was no denying the extent of it's influence. He was harsher than most men, more prone to violence and acts of deception. This he knew and still struggled to come to terms with, but he could do nothing more to support his claims than act in support of them.

"Ranger Alarion, I assure you that everything I've ever done in my time within the walls of Umbar was done for the purpose of my survival." He drew himself up and a storm, distant but violent, surged within the olivine seas of his eyes. "Excuse my frankness, however, when I say that it's not so much my ways that have changed so much as the hand that guides them. Until recently, I've never had to freedom to choose the subject of my loyalty."

Rune took a step forward, arm extended with the intent of shaking Pele's hand. "I swear to you that no force in this world will force the abandonment of my oaths to Gondor. I will do whatever is deemed necessary to preserve the peace of the kingdom and her people. Should my will falter and my oath forgotten, I hereby offer my life to your blade as penance." It was the best he could do, as far as proving his commitment, and he hoped it would be enough. He had, for lack of better words, tied his life to Gondor and Pele, as the Commander of its Rangers.

From the outside, one might believe he had bound himself to the Kingdom - with Pele holding a blade to his neck as executioner should he falter. From Rune's perspective, it was the greatest act of personal trust that he could provide. Days later he would remember in embarrassment that the action was a reflection of the exchange of personal oaths within the mercenary companies of the South.

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Headquarters - Commander's Office

Exercising the strength of will to bring the multitude of thoughts, impressions and memories into submission and to focus on present, Pele made effort to pay attention to every word Rune said, taking note of how he spoke and whether his body language did not give away any hints to the opposite of what he said.

A frown lingered on her brow, as she considered the lack of completely convincing proof, and yet there was nothing that she could see that would make her accuse him of trying to infiltrate the Rangers for hostile purposes. The weight of decision lay heavily on her shoulders, since if she made a wrong decision it would affect everyone. And yet... there was Macardil who had been fully of their own - or so they thought - and yet he had murdered the Commander.

"It is not my place to sit in judgement over your past, though I do take it into consideration; if you understand how it goes," she eventually said, having mulled over the information in her mind for a few moments. "And if this really is your choice..."

When Rune moved towards her with an outstretched hand, the gesture triggered the defensiveness in her and she stiffened as if preparing to fight. It had taken a multitude of gentle hugs from trusty friends to undo the fear of touch caused by the experience of continuous flood of severe pain, and the current situation set off the warning of possible harm. As if she had been training for years to do just this, she took a deep breath and released it slowly and steadily as a way to counter the sense of danger, while she stepped forward after a moment of hesitation to return Rune's handshake.

"If this is indeed what you are willing to undertake, your loyalty will first of all be to the King and Gondor; ultimately it is not I who would hold you responsible," Pele spoke and firmly squeezed his hand, while her blue eyes searched his olivine ones for proof of sincerity. "And yet I hope that you will not let me down and will not make me regret this decision."

Taking a step back again, she made effort to relax her shoulders, though retaining a soldierly bearing. "A recruit you are now," she confirmed the decision once more. "And since you said you were skilled in using weapons, I want to see whether that is so and where you would fit in our ranks. You will find all the equipment you need and your uniform in the armoury, and a room in the barracks, should you need one."

She thought for a moment, and then added his first orders: "I want you to meet me at the training grounds outside the city; bring everything you consider necessary for two or three days. Questions?" She couldn't help but wonder whether acting completely against the flashing warning that had been set off in her mind was a smart thing to do; and yet - if there were any grounds for it, perhaps it was best to meet it head on.

[Pele Alarion]

Ranger Pele Alarion
Mess Hall (some early morning...)

Two hours or so were still left until breakfast would be officially served, yet Pele found herself wandering out of her room and towards mess hall in search of something edible. She had woken up early and found it difficult to fall back asleep, so there was no use wasting time and trying to force herself to sleep.

Since it was early and she assumed that most folk would still be enjoying what rest they could, Pele did not care much for appearances and ventured out dressed in simple leggings and a shirt which was rather too big for her and rather looked like a short dress - it had been Maldir's, and now it was one of the few things she had kept of his belongings. There had been times when she had snatched the same shirt and had been playfully scolded by him when he looked for it. A small smile touched the Ranger's lips at the cherished memory, and her feet, conveniently dressed in soft woolen socks, soundlessly took her down the hallway and into the mess hall.

Acting out of habit formed by many years spent in and around these premises, Pele added some more water to a kettle and placed it above barely smoldering embers in the fireplace. These she nudged back to life with a poker and added a few pieces of firewood. She waited to see that the fire revived properly, and then returned to the tables in search for something edible. There was not much to be found, but she managed to collect two slices of slightly dried bread which she generously covered with a layer of honey.

With bread on the plate, she returned to the fireplace and sat down with her legs stretched out towards it. Biting off a morsel of bread, she munched on it slowly, while watching the flames weave their dance around the firewood. Perhaps this cozy atmosphere would bring the sleep back to her, and she could still get back to bed for a couple more hours. And then again maybe not. At any rate she did not feel inclined to go to the training grounds this early today, though sometimes she would do just that.

[Rune Eisahn]

Rune Eisahn
Headquarters - Commander's Office

It wasn't difficult for Rune to recognize the stiffening of Pele's body when he reached out to shake her hand. It was jarring, if only because he was used to being the one tensing and not the other way around. What had this woman, clearly competent and skilled, experienced to warrant such a response? The answer was clear enough - she'd been hurt, but by who? How? Those questions he didn't have the answers for and he wasn't about to begin digging into Pele's past. She'd been more tolerant of him than he'd expected upon arriving and he wasn't about to backtrack upon whatever progress he'd made in gaining her trust.

Finally, after an agonizingly slow moment, Pele gripped his hand in hers. She was strong, her grasp firm, and every instinct in Rune's body advised she would be a better ally than enemy. He likely wouldn't survive the latter.

"You are correct, my loyalty will first and foremost be to the King and Gondor - on that I swear," said Rune. Their eyes met, blue and green, and he found himself speaking without thinking. "I swear to you, I will do all in my power to ensure you never regret this, Pele."

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. How in Middle-Earth was he supposed to follow through with that? He wasn't perfect nor invincible. What if he died on his first mission or failed in some other mediocre fashion. That'd be embarrassing. She'd not only regret her decision but think he was all bark and no bite. Which, while not entirely untrue, isn't what he dreamed of having engraved upon his tombstone.

Well, at least he'd be dead.

"A recruit!" Rune smiled. "Excellent! I'll prepare my things and begin my way within the hour." It's a good thing that he traveled light. He halfway began to ask if she had any food preferences, as considering her instructions he imagined that they'd be living off the land for a couple of days and had already started to ponder what he'd eat later in the day, before shutting himself up. It's not like they would be sharing a dinner - just training, eating, and resting. She'd likely appreciate any meal he offered, though he wondered if he'd have to prove whether it was poisoned or not. That would be tediously entertaining.

He bowed his head, still smiling. "No questions from me, though I'd imagine that I'll have some when we meet later in the day." Rune straightened his back and squared his shoulders, his air becoming shifting to serious. "Until next we meet, Commander."

With that, he spun on his heel and walked out of the office.

***

Ranger Recruit - Rune Eisahn
Training Grounds

Rune hadn't stayed in Headquarters for long after his meeting with Pele, having decided to immediately begin his preparations for his assessment with the Commander. That mainly involved him stopping by a pub off the main thoroughfare of Minas Tirith's first level, having a hearty helping of bread and stew in addition to a refreshing mug of ale. After that, he began to make his way to the Training Ground.

He was dressed and equipped as he always seemed to be: a dirty cloak rested atop a leather tunic, which itself laid over a light coat of mail. The only difference was the thick leather pauldron strapped to his left shoulder, accompanied by a matching leather vambrace. Both hands were gloved, though the left was covered in a thin gauntlet with clawed fingers. A hand-and-a-half sword and a dagger were sheathed to his belt, as well as an assortment of smaller knives. More knives could be found across his person, though few were visible. Strapped to his right leg was a pouch were an an assortment of tools that kept life in the wilds from being unbearable. Needle, thread, flint, that kind of thing.

Rune waited for Pele upon a large stone that was nestled into the Pelennor, the walls of the Rammas visible in the distance. His supplies sat on the ground at his feet. He wasn't sure when she would arrive, as she hadn't exactly specified a time, but he liked to think he was a patient man.

He could wait.