The sun pierced the veil of gray clouds that stretched over the sky, slowly illuminating the great city of Minas Tirith. A city of wonders, the most impressive built by any Man. Though some parts of the city were old, well over a thousand years in age, the city shone with a pristine white gleam.
At the fourth gate, Ehoron strolled through the crowds, barely aware of their existence. On his back he carried a quiver of arrows with an elegantly crafted Elven short bow slung over one shoulder. At his side, he carried a long leaf blade he had dubbed Areleh. He had a number of knives, long, short, and throwing, placed all over himself. Yet for all his equipment, he made almost no sound.
At the gate, two guards were standing, talking about something when Ehoron came into view. When the Ranger came into view, the two stopped speaking and glared at him. Some childish things weren't left to fade with childhood.
"What do you want?" One of the guards demanded, a touch of scorn in his voice.
"Duty requires me to see the king and speak with him, but you would know all about duty, wouldn't you Lahn?" The words flew from Ehoron's tongue almost faster than he could've fired a bow. Their effect was almost the same. The man stumbled back as is struck before he drew his blade, snarling.
"I'll cut you in two."
The second knight possessed a much more level head and quickly moved over and forced the man to lower his blade. "Peace, Lahn. Killing a man who bears news for the King is not a wise course of action." The first man scowled before he sheathed his blade and walked back to his post. "Forgive Lahn. You know how much of a temper he has."
"One would hope he would have gotten control over it. Peace favor you, Farin."
"And peace favor you, Ehoron."
As the gates swung open and Ehoron continued his path up to the King, he muttered in a voice so softly, only he heard himself.
"If only peace would favor any of us..."
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