[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen held Crystal's fierce, yearning gaze as she spoke, and her words made his face harden slightly. "Who beat you?" he answered quietly. She seemed about to answer when a shout from inside the archives, the words of which Atharen could not decipher, distracted both of them. Atharen turned back to Crystal, guessing the question immediately, and stated it as a fact. "Ferethor."

He had little doubt, but he wasn't sure what the man could have done to get caught. Or maybe he had turned them in? How had it been so easy for him to get the key in the first place? If only he had told them, maybe they could have taken precautions...Atharen was inside the door of the Archives in a second, and felt that Crystal was following him, although he step was silent. The ranger was quite as quiet though, and as he came to a corner, he allowed himself to peek around, hoping - correctly - that all eyes would be on Ferethor. One, two, three, four men, and one of them, a younger man, just in front of him. In front of this man was Ferethor, and for a fraction of a milisecond, the soldier caught the ranger's eye.

Atharen straightened himself back around the corner again, not wanting Ferethor to catch his eye for too long, as it would seem suspicious, and trying to work out a plan of action. The soldier in front of him...he had not seen the man's face - how old was he? What plan could Atharen effectively use if he didn't even know his opponent's experience? But luck, it seemed, was on his side this time.

"You are charged for the treson to the state. Persuading guards to desert their posts and infiltrating the government building alone decrees your death, but I am allowing you a chance to defend yourself. Speak and be not silent!"

The man's voice, to Atharen's satisfaction, although confident was also young. Atharen assessed it as Ferethor began to speak: he doubted the guard was many years over twenty, and the ranger had had many years in the wild since he was that age to gather experience more than this boy...the sound of Ferethor drawing his weapon told Atharen what rather crude plan of action he planned to take. Not a diplomatic, then, he thought, dryly, and slowly drew his dirk from its padded sheath, completely silent because of that padding. One...two...three!

Darting around the corner, Atharen grabbed the young guard who had spoken by his collar, holding the dirk to the man's throat with his left, stronger, hand, and holding down the man's sword arm with his right, deftly twisting his sword from his grasp so that it clattered to the floor. The other guards seemed completely shocked and Atharen intended to take full advantage of that fact.

"Stay completely still and no harm will come to your companion. I am not an enemy of Gondor," the ranger said quietly but with confidence. The young man he had hold of gave a small, defiant snort. "You are an enemy of Gondor now, whoever you are."

Atharen admired him for his bravery - young, and possibly rather foolish, but he obviously wasn't a coward. "I don't mean to cause you any harm, as long as you stay very still," he replied, his mouth close to the man's ear, his tone low. His hair and helmet obscured most of Atharen's face from the guards' sight, and the young man himself certainly wouldn't be able to see him other than a blur. "I am no enemy of Gondor, and I am an ally and kinsman of the King - although of course you may believe what you will," he finished dryly.

The man gave a muffled gasp. "Who are you?"

He wanted to add the word 'Lord' on the end there, Atharen mused to himself with some amusement. "Ah, now that would be telling. Ferethor," he raised his voice, "go!"

The guards barely moved as Ferethor left, apparently a little annoyed he had not got to fight, but moving swiftly anyway - Atharen only needed to tighten his grip very slightly to make them go still again. For that he was glad - he had absolutely no intention of cutting this young man's throat. He rather suspected he had quite alot of potential as a soldier, so long as he kept that tongue in check. Moving backwards, the guards followed at a safe distance as he went to the door and Ferethor opened it, darting out. Atharen flashed a quick grin at the guards, his black eyes glittering. "Good day to you, gentlemen."

Pushing the young guard back at his colleagues, he followed Ferethor's example hastily and wrenched the door shut so fast it almost caught his jacket. His gloved hands twisted the handle sharply upwards to the right, securing it for a while from the outside as it jammed, as he had found many of the older state buildings did when treated so. Turning to the others, he nodded, not catching Ferethor's eye. "All here? We haven't much time, that door with hold them for less than a minute. I suggest we split up - they will know we are in a large group from earlier, and we will be less conspicuous in pairs of threes." He caught Crystal's eye as he said this and flashed her a slight, brief smile.