[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor entered the White Horse inn, surveying the place in a keen look under the pretense of finding a seat, as was his wont. As he seated himself, his weatherstained cloak rippled and revealed the gleam of silver and sable - the traditional livery of the guards of Minas Tirith.


"Hirifilen, we're here to talk." Ferethor warned as Hirifilen entered after him and made for the bar. Hirifilen cast an annoyed gaze at Ferethor. "who are you, that you would order me about thus? I know my duty." As if striken with a shaft, anger flashed through Ferethor. His eyes were kindled with fury, and his voice was hard. "Do, then, as you please!"


"Fool." Ferether said viciously. "You mar the Great house of Vonwe. You revel in the glory of your high linage, yet does little to earn the honor that is given you. Proud son of Anen, what honor have you earned for yourself that you'd treat your comrade with such scorn? You deal with arrogance to all. Hir, you lean on your youth as a clutch, an excuse to do as you wish."


Hirifilen retorted in anger, "At least I hunted the Wargs, while you just stood there and watched."


"I bided my time, until the snow melts and I could lead my band in the trek through the mountains with less danger. You may think it courage to refuse my order, but I see nothing but false bravado. Perhaps I did wrong in searching for you in the snow-peaked mountains with ever lessening hope day after day."


"You've ever been thus, stubborn and unyielding, ever quick to scorn and sullenness. Unless you heed to my words without your eyes veiled by arrogance, I'm finished with you. You can go back to the other soldiers and explain exactly what you've done."


Ferethor sheathed his elven knife with a metallic sound, and was gone in a whirl of his cloak.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:22 AM January 31, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]