Dark Thoughts

================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is:    Midnight < About 1:01 AM >
IC day is:     Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is:    18 Laer <Summer>
Moon phase:    Full <HIDDEN>
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Loa 15 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3039>
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RL time: Thu Nov 02 15:40:32 2006
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Rose Garden
You stand in a small rose garden dazzled in white, red, and yellow. Placed in an circular pattern about the garden, a walkway made up of small, uplifted ceramic tiles form rings of walking space surrounding a large golden mallorn planted in the center. Shade from its limbs splay outward over this walkspace to provide for a pleasant atmosphere. Here and there, benches, one with a lamp rising up out of the ground next to it, are placed for guests to enjoy the shade and the scenery.

To the south, a tall hedge hides the entrance to the shaded lawn. East, among a gnarly set of old oak trees, a small path leads to the Apothecary, while to the North another path leads to the Northern Gardens. To the West, a gate leads out to the Golden Roadway. Lastly, to the side, sparkling beneath a silver arch, a set of stairs can be seen leading to a talan up above. Shown by the starlight, twinkling down from the sky, all is quiet in the Garden.

Warm white starlight glistens within a deep dark sky, high above the mystical lands of Lothlorien. Mists dance along a light summer breeze, weaving amongst the trees and brush as they lazily rise up towards the sky. Hundreds of roses in full bloom scent the air with a nearly intoxicating medley of sweet fragrance. Here, late in the evening, sitting in the midst of the flowers a silvery haired ellon sits with pure white fabric spread out upon his lap. Bent over, nimble hands weave a needle through the fabric, expanding an ever growing white and silver design of leaf, vine, and bird.

As Galharth works, he whispers a sweet song, as if his words and tone weave magic into the fabric along with the embroidered thread. Deeply engrossed in his work, he seems to almost oblivious to all.

But another walks the night and this one is no surprise...Curulomion Mornedhel. What brings him here is anyone's guess and guess it is likely to remain since he keeps his council close. The giveaway is the flash-and-sparkle of his osprey pendant...which makes it gleam with a pale fire that is all too easy to see at certain angles. And as the dark jewelsmith passes Galharth the angle is just right for a blast of cold fire.

The Clothier pauses his hand, and he looks up, just as the Jewelsmith passes. "Ah, good eve Curulomion." Galharth said as his crystal blue eyes focus first upon the pendant and then Curulomion's face. "It seems the night draws us both." Placing the needle down upon the fabric, he sweeps his hand to the nearby ground. "If you have the time, perhaps you can sit for a moment or two. There's plenty of room."

Pausing only a moment, the silvery haired ellon tilts his head slightly. "Did you receive delivery of the wine agreed?"

Curulomion 's answer is to sit down near Galharth. "The wine has been received and will be put to good use, rest assured. Your taste is quite excellent and I am pleased with your choice of vintage." He settles back, relaxing just a bit. "The night always calls me, but more loudly has it called me than it has before. These past few days I have been abroad only by night whereas sometimes you can find me about in the late afternoon."

Glancing up, Galharth stares at a grouping of stars. "The stars, the silencing darkness, the scents of summer, it all mingles together..." the Clothier says. After a moment, he drops his gaze and shrugs his shoulders. "I find it both inspiring and relaxing. I know not which I crave more." Shrugging his shoulders, he starts folding the cloth carefully. "Either way, it's been productive. I'm almost finished on the fabric that will be used to make your wedding wardrobe."

Curulomion lookds at the fabric in Galharth's lap. "I am glad to hear that. I looking to seeing your handiwork and if it wears well I might comission you for some tunics and slacks of my own...just not in white." He seems to have a real bias against white. "But it looks fair from what I can see. A pity she insists on white. Why I do not know. The folk of the Wood will all faint to see me wearing white."

Laughing loudly, the good humor reflects within Galharth's eyes. "Then let them faint, for you shall be an envious sight to see." Pausing a moment, he holds up the fabric. "Take a close look. The thread used to embroder the designs is a single thread of white, mixed with a thread of charcoal grey, and a thread of silver. White, but one that holds depth and character."

"I would welcome any work, I'll not deny that, but I can only do so if I can provide that which is desired." The clothier says as he lowers the fabric and begins to tuck it neatly into a cloth bag. "We shall see once this first work is done."

Glancing up while tucking the fabric into the bag, a brow lifts. "I wonder. When will my sword be ready?"

Curulomion eyes the fabric keenly and then nods his approval. "If white it must be at least let it be thus...white with a depth to it. I despise shallow things." Then he arches an eyebrow. "Your sword is nearly done. I have polished it well and hadve made the molds I need to recast the hilt as you wish. The sharpening I will tend to last so there is the least risk of my slicing myself by misttake."

"I'll likely end up cutting myself." Galharth replies with good humor. Tucking the last of the fabric into the bag, he places it gently upon the ground at his side. "Will you be traveling to Imladris for the Baltric Congress? I've considered attending myself, but to be honest, I've shyed away from such things in the past so I know little or nothing to help me prepare for such things. Have you participated in the past?"

Curulomion shakes his head. "I have participated in the Congress here but I have not gone to Imladris for them," he answers. "But I am going this time, though it will mean more scars on my fea, more bloodshed and death." He is sounding even more grim than usual. "For Elnara wishes to go and I will not be sundered from her for so long."

Confusion washes over the Clothiers expression. "How will attendance at the Congress result in scars, bloodshed, and death?" Galharth asks with hesitation. "I thought such things are meant for exchange between out peoples."

Curulomion shakes his head. 'You misunderstood me or I was unclear. The journey there will be perilous. To leave the protection of the Wood is to experience war and bloodshed and death. Only in our borders or in the borders of lord Elrond's land do we have peace. Between our lands lies peril and bloodshed and death. I fully expect to be wounded on the journey."

Concern replaces confusion on the Clothiers expression. "With such an ominous foretelling of your own fate, it would be my hope that you remain within the safety of the wood." Frowning heavily. Galharth looks at the Jewelsmith, and then to his hands, and back. "How does Elnara feel about your foretelling?"

Curulomion shakes his head. "She does not know. It would only make sense that I would be injured. I would be helpless in combat. I know the hilt of a sword from the point but very little more. But I will go and bear what pain will come to me as I must."

Drawing his hands together, he clasps his fingers tightly on his lap. Lowering his head, he seems to focus upon his woven fingers. "You've spoken of your feelings on the matter of combat before, and the choice is yours. With that choice, I can only offer respect for such feelings." With those words released, the Clothier pauses, and when he looks up he offers a look of intensity. "Still, it grieves me to think that you might come to harm, and as this feeling washes over me, another thought comes to mind." A pause hangs within the air, and a deep breath passes though his mouth before he speaks again. "Tell me, if these injuries were to befall upon Elnara due to your inexperience with a sword, would that change your thoughts on finding training?"

Curulomion considers and his eyebrows draw together. "Should Elnara be injured or die in protecting me I will be unable to forgive myself." He sighs, looking down at his hands. "But what am I supposed to do? These hands are those of an artist and jewelsmith who creates things, not those of a warrior that sheds blood. I could never enter the Guard, not with all the stories of the Last Alliance that Atto told me."

"Am I any different?" Galharth asks in a neutral tone that reveals nothing. "I seek not to kill, but to protect." Relaxing his hands, they unclasp, and his fingers rest comfortably over his knees. "Are any of us different? Where you might seek to protect the Lady you love, I might look to protect an ideal or an opinion." Shrugging his shoulders he turns his head slightly to look upon a red rose. "I can not see myself ever joining the Guard, or becoming a Guardian, I do see some level of strength within myself to prevent anyone from destroying anything that I might see as something worth preserving."

Turning, he offers a sympathetic smile. "I suppose it's a personal question that can be answered by a friend, family, or a trusted teacher. Perhaps a price will be paid in the long term, but for the time being, the suspected price is reasonable."

Curulomion nods grimly. "It is not that I do not wish to protect Elnara it is that I do not wish to see battle. Protection and battle need not go together though the two do seem to be linked." He shakes his head slightly. "Perhaps I am a coward then to not take up the sword."

"I sympathize with your dilemma, my friend." Galharth says gently. "I know not why, but I trust the value you place upon the reasons for the difficulties you face." Shrugging, he pauses a moment as if to collect his thoughts. "The value of my opinion may mean much, or nothing, I do not know, but I do know this: I see you not as a coward, but an ellon of great intelligence. Simply said, if you can not in fact cloud your values to protect that which you hold so dear, then I trust that you'll find someone to stand as your protector in times of need."

Curulomion nods. "Elnara has sworn to protect my life with hers and there is one of the Guard, Maglind, that I would trust enough to watch out for her. Not that I am sure he knows this. I will probably have to charge him with his new duty soon. He is young, very young, but he is keen of mind and eye, very loyal and true to his word."

"Then the matter is settled." Galharth says with a hint of relief in the tone of his voice. "As I've said, you'll find someone, and it seems that you already have. Myself, I do not have that luxury so I take the task upon for myself. In our own ways, we do what we must." Drawing his hands behind him, he leans back upon his arms. "Aside from that, I still know little of what takes place at a Congress. Will there be competitions or craft showings? If I were to go to this Congress, what would I need to do to prepare?"

Curulomion considers. "There are varoious contests yes. Some of craft and some of song. I know only a very little of such things for like you, I have usually shunned such celebrations as not in keeping with my temper. But there is a crafters' competition. I entered last year and took second place...a joint second with Elnara now that I remember it. So you could prepare a sample of your work if you wish to. I do not know if I will offer anything this coming year or not. I have not made up my mind on the matter. I would need a forge and I highly doubt my need for privacy at my work would be respected. I work best in silence and alone."

"There is time, both to gain more information and to prepare." Galharth glaces at the sack of cloth at this side and he smiles. "Till then I have plenty to keep me occupied." Reaching out, the Clothier grasps the handle of the bag filled with fabric. Slowly rising to his feet, Galharth ellon stretches his back. 'And while I am occupied with the creation of your fabric, I have other needs, such as food and drink.

Bowing slightly, the Clothier smiles. "As always, your company has been a pleasure.