================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Night < About 2:00 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 4 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: First Quarter <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 17 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3041>
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RL time: Thu Jul 26 09:40:21 2007
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Long Lawn

You stand amidst a long lawn of shining grass. It ripples in the gentle river breezes like tresses of golden hair, sprinkled too with hundreds of golden elanor flowers which radiate with the light of the sun. The eastern edge of the lawn fades into a white-stone beach, lapped upon by the deep and dark waters of the broad Anduin river which flows from the north, continuing southwards forever onto the sea. Joining the Anduin directly to the south is the Celebrant river, which hurries towards you from between the groves of Mallorns to the northwest. Northwards, the lawn is bordered by a high green wall of dense forest growth. With your sharp elven eyes, you spy a small recess in the wall, perhaps a passageway which leads through it.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Dinnan
Ostiel
Curanolas
Rhibi
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Colors of dawn bubble upon the eastern horizon, pouring forth light to push away the darkness. Reds, pinks, yellows, oranges, and flickers of white and red burst upwards as dawn breaks. The lingering mists creep silently along the shore of the Anduin, swirling with movement as a gentle breeze flickers over the land. The scent is fresh as if the evening dew has washed away the previous days events.

It is into this that a half dressed ellon steps towards the shore. A smile brushes over his lips as he looks towards the water, and clearly, excitement dances within his eyes. "Today we dive!" Galharth calls out to his fellow crafters.

Against his better judgment, Maglind is here too. His tunic he has carefully folded and placed upon the ground, but strapped to his dew-spattered leg is a long, keen knife.

The warden twitches a rope or two, and follows Galharth. "Are you ready, Clothier?"

Turning, the Tailor's eyes fall to the Warden's knife, and a knowing grin is presented when he lifts his gaze to look into Maglind's eyes. "Of course I'm ready, and I can see..." he says, pausing to sweep a hand towards the knife, "that you will defeat the dreaded duck weed that attempted to claim you on your last excursion beneath the waters." Glancing to the water, and quickly back towards his friend, he adds, "I don't blame you by the way."

Stepping from the shore, Galharth settles his feet into the water. "Ah... it's cold this morning, but refreshing." Taking several steps southwards, the mist covered water claims view of his legs. "Come on then. Let's get to this and see what there is to see."

"I felt other things," murmurs Maglind quietly, beyond earshot. Flinching at the cold, he slips into the shallows.

Once waist deep, Galharth turns towards the shore, and those who wait for their return. "Our first few dives are exploration!" He calls out to the crafters who stand along the shore winding rope. "Once we have an idea of where we will begin pulling things up, then we'll need an anchor line and a line with the recovery sack." Lifting a hand he waves towards the shore.

Turning towards Maglind, he nods. "I'll see you on the bottom! And be careful!" With that, the clothier turns and dives into the gently rippling water, kicking forth a final splash as he goes downwards towards the silent wreck.

"Ulmo spare us," whispers Maglind to the shimmering surface, before he too disappears into the dawn-colored depths.

Silvery hair ripples in the water as the Clothier swims downward. With the silent movement of his hands, fish scatter fearfully. In moments the wreck is reached and Galharth reaches out to grasp the ghostly hull as he pauses to look upwards towards the Warden. Hoping to have caught Maglind's attention, he points towards the midsection of the ship towards what appears to be a housing rising up. Covered in watery vegetation, the opening to the ship appears almost as a monster's gaping mouth while ehe weed attached to the sunken wood sways as would fur upon a beast.

Pushing forward, the crafter continues his swim towards the opening.

Maglind dips his head in agreement, feathery halo of hair fanning out behind him. Caressing the water-aged wood for a moment, the warden kicks forward in a whirl of bubbles.

Turning back, long enough to catch sight of the Warden, Galharth nods once before diving forth into the opening of the ship. Darkness surrounds him, leaving him with shadowy vision of the interior. Flickers of movement dash forth beside his head, pausing to nibble at his waving hair. For the instant the movement began until the light peering into the opening identifies the source, Galharth's eyes grow wide and his movement jerks fearfully.

Reaching up to tap his chest twice, as if to calm himself, the crafter turns back towards the shadowy darkness. Bending, he reaches down and grasps a silt covered item from the floor before heading back towards the opening.

Wide-eyed, limbs flailing slowly in water, Maglind enters the abyss soon after Galharth leaves. Here it is still a dark world, stirred by iridescent motes where waves have stirred silt into the dawn -- the warden peers into the darkness.

There is a long, slender stick lying on the remains of a table -- this he takes with blue-cold fingers, and darts back into the light.

With wide strokes, the clothier swims towards the surface. Drawn by the sparkling reflections upon the water's surface, and the growing need for air, the last few strokes upwards are hurried. As his head breaks the surface, Galharth throws back his head to draw in air.

Gasping the sweet, fresh, air, he holds up the hand holding the object retreived. Swishing it around in the water, to clear the silt, he smiles as a delicate cup is revealed.

Maglind comes up a little farther away, pallid skin blue with the cold. Heaving a few breaths, he looks cautiously to the object in his hand.

It is several handsbreadths long, caked with the dust of years, covered with regular bumps -- as he wipes it clean with a trembling hand, it is a silver flute.

Holding up his find, Galharth extends a small finger as if to use the found cup to drink with. "With this cup and your flute, it initially seems as if the ship sunk whilst those aboard dined and listened to good music." Laughing at his poorly delivered joke, the clothier makes his way towards the shore with short sweeps of his arms. As he rises up along the bank, water trails pathways down his bare chest. Holding the cup towards the shore, he calls out. "Here.... Can someone take this, and that which Maglind has found so we can go back under?"

Shivering, Maglind paddles behind, extending the flute to the reaching arms of the crafters.

Walking upriver from the south comes one more elf. Clad darkly, he appears a remnant of the recently departed night. From one hand dangles a brace of rabbits, their long ears dangling in the grass, and he carries a small sack upon the other shoulder. Approaching the group, he slows down and watches.

Catching sight of a darkly clad ellon arrive, Galharth lifts a hand in greeting, "Well met! I hope those are for our morning meal!" He calls out with a laugh as he turns and begins to wade back into the water. Nodding to Maglind, he adds. "Same place as last."

Diving forward, under the rippling waves, Galharth disappears back into the watery depths.

Two edhil walk together, an older ellon and a younger elleth, both red-haired, both laughing. Naurocaran and his daughter, Curanolas, move toward the group. Both carry extra cloaks and blankets. Both are also dressed in leggings and fitted tunics. As they approach, Naurocaran waves. "We've come to help," he says. "And we've brought blankets and cloaks for those who need a break," Curanolas adds, dropping her pile on the ground. "Just tell us what to do, and we'll do it," Naurocaran says, adding his pile to hers. Naurocaran ties his longish hair back. His daughter's hair is short enough it cannot be tied back. They move to the edge of the water and remove their boots, dipping their feet in the water to get acclimated.

But Maglind has already returned to the depths: a ripple scarcely marking his departure, a pale body darts underwater like a silvery fish.

Dinnan - the darkly clad one - does not seem to catch Galharth's meaning at first, but soon remembers his scanty catch. Though two rabbits do not a breakfast make for such a large group, he places them as offering at the edge of the fire circle. With a shrug, he abandons his sack and cloak in the same spot, then approaches the river, crouching down beside the father and daughter, curious. He waits for one of the divers to reappear, a skeptical smirk upon his thin lips.

With wide sweeping arches of his arms, driving forth powerful strokes, Galharth reaches the river's bed in short order. Hand over hand, he makes his way to the ships opening, passing quickly into the dark mouth of the doorway. Moving his hand along what seems to be a shadowy counter, silt difts into the water from the surface of the waterlogged wood, making vision harder. His hand crawls over something and the Clothier grasps it tightly, and turns to head out and upwards again.

The dive is a quick one, and yet sucessful as he raises something up. It's surface is encrusted with shells, and bits of what looks like rust. Frowning, he calls to the shore. "I don't know what it is, but I think it time for us to take down the sacks rather than bring things up one at a time." With that he swims towards shore.

"I do wonder what they are up to," Ostiel murmurs to Dinnan as she glides past, heading for a copse of trees at the Lawn's far end. The question was likely rhetorical, for she does not linger in waiting, but continues along, looking toward the river, eyes blazing with curiosity.

"Just name it and we'll do it," Naurocaran says, indicating himself and his daughter. "We're ready," Curanolas echoes the cheeriness that was in her father's voice.

In the swirling, opaque waters, Maglind gropes blindly and comes up with something crumbling in his hands. Perhaps it is parchments, but what ink may have been is long washed away.

Disappointed, the warden flops onto the white shore.

Dinnan glances around for said sacks, but before getting up, offers Galharth his hand, either to help him out of the water, or to take his rusty, shelly treasure for him.

Rising up, dripping from the river, he passes the odd object to the crafters gathering their catch upon the river's edge. Catching sight of Ostiel, he raises a hand in greeting, "Well met, Ostiel" He calls out in a voice loud enough to carry to her location. "Come join us, the waters fine and refreshing!" With a wink, he turns to Curanolas and her father.

"All help is welcome, for neither I nor Maglind can gather all that lays upon the river bed. Grab a sack, and follow us down." Pausing to watch Maglind flop onto the shore, he laughs. "Or follow me down, as it seems the good Warden needs a short break."

Taking a sack of his own, he turns back to the river and wades in a few feet. With water waist high he dives, leading the elleth and her father to the wreck.

Naurocaran and Curanolas grab sacks and dive behind the Clothier. They fill their sacks with odd objects found in the wreck. The elleth pauses, treading water just above an odd object, stuck between two pieces of wood. She ties the sack to her belt and tries to move the wooden planks that are hoding the object down. She motions to her father, who surfaces then dives back down to her. She, too, grabs a breath then redives. Together they get the medium-sized, squarish object dislodged. Naurocaran ties his sack to his own belt and helps his daughter lug the barnacle-encrusted somthing-or-other (which looks to be a box or case of some sort) to shore. Curanolas welcomes the help from those on the shore and quickly hands off her sack as well, receiving another sack for another dive. Naurocaran does the same. They look at each other and dive back below.

"Perhaps soon," Ostiel calls back to Galharth, turning and walking backwards with an easy, contented smile, "I have something to attend to first." Her back comes into contact with a tall, graceful tree, heavy with limbs and leaves. The Attendant disappears within those branches.

Crawling tiredly to the grassy bank, Maglind reaches for a cloak and wraps it around his shoulders, water streaming down in rivulets. He looks to Dinnan. "The water is quite dusty by now. I don't know how they can find things without sight."

Having been lost in thought, Dinnan at last rouses and nods absently to Maglind who last spoke to him. "Anduin seems to enjoy making this a challenge. Perhaps she is jealous of her secret, guarded for so long..."

Curanolas fills her bag with small objects, spying a rather large object in one part of the ship. She blinks and retraces her path to find her father or Galharth. Upon finding her father, she motions for him to follow, showing him the overlarge object. The two surface and wait at the shore, handing off their bags. They wait for Galharth to resurface.

Perhaps to elven ears, the sound of elven running is not so silent as to others. And shortly, Rhibi bursts from the leafy embrace of the wall. He comes to a stop just at the edge of the water and starts stripping off his clothes, explaining as he undresses. "Father only just let me come," he says and the next words are muffled as he pulls a shirt over his head. "But now I am ready!"

Watching Curanolas and her father, underwater, Galharth smiles and nods his approval as he swims forward towards the dark opening within the ship. Feeling around in the shadows, his hand falls upon something smooth handled, and strangely warm. As his hand grasps the item, the clothier grows still and his eyes seems to glaze over. Bubbles trickle from his mouth and he grows limp as his eyes focus seemingly elsewhere. Drifting upwards, his head smacks soundly on the roof of the ships housing, and with a large burst of released air, the crafter's eyes refocus.

Confusion flickers over his expression and in a panic he darts for the exit and upwards to the surface. As he moves he grips the handle of the object retreived with all his might. In moments he breaks the surface and gasps for air.

Curanolas and her father move to help Galharth. "You okay?" Curanolas asks, treading water beside the tailor.

Dinnan goes from one moment laughing at Rhibi's youthful exuberance to surprised concern at Galharth's sudden resurfacing. He half stands and inches closer to the water. "A hand there, friend?"

"Rhibi!" Maglind cries joyfully, with the faintest note of despair. "Down there it is very deep..."

The warden's voice drops, and he runs to the bank, shedding his cloak on the grass: "It's not the duckweed, is it?"

"I can dive very deep!" Rhibi replies, proudly. He slithers from the last of his clothing and darts into the water, doubling up and kicking as soon as it is deep enough to swim. "Galharth!" he cries as he comes near the tailor. "I have come! What have you found? Are we bringing things up? Where shall I go?"

Naurocaran chuckles at the boy. "Hold on there a moment. Let the tailor catch his breath," he says and eyes Curanolas. The Imladrhim elleth blushes and shakes her head before turning back to Galharth, offerin to help him to shore.

"M Fine!" Galharth calls out in a slurred voice. "Bumped my head a little." he mutters softly as his whole body quivers. Lifting the object slightly above the water, he peers at a small knife. Frowning, he eyes the strange design upon the blades surface for a moment, until Rhibi's voice catches his attention.

Looking towards shore, he lifts his free hand and waves. "So far, several things! All are on the shore!" With another quick glance to the knife, he tucks it into his leggins. Swimming towards shore, he drags himself out of the water. "Need a break...." He mutters as he drops down on the shore beside Maglind.

For a minute, the boy's face is set in a stubborn scowl - as if Galharth's desire for a break also includes him, and he has not even begun! Then it clears away and a flashing grin spreads across his face. He lifts one hand in a wave, and then ducks under the water, kicking for the ship.

Naurocaran and Curanolas nod to Galharth and dive down toward the largeish object that she found earlier. The two begin hauling felled planking off the object, surfacing and diving simultaneously. Curanolas smiles at the boy underwater and hands him a small box, the sixe and weight of a small book, to take back to the surface. She then heads back to the main object at which she and her father are trying to get a better look.

Maglind tosses a towel at the clothier. "What happened, Galharth? Don't put it there without a sheath -- you'll cut yourself. -- You look sick." He sits down on the white stones, peering at him.

Rhibi rolls his eyes and swims towards the large object that Curanolas is heading for, tucking the book-sized box under one arm and propelling himself with both legs and the other. But both elder elves are in the way, and he cannot see. With a shrug, he rockets towards the surface, setting the box on the shore.

Dinnan rises casually and takes a surreptitious look at the blade. His eyes narrow in appreciation for the ancient craftmanship, but he says nothing of it for now. Instead, the hunter makes his way to a pile of ash left from the last fire. Gently brushing away the cool ashes he searches for any warm coals still beneath. A little dry matter, a little blowing, soon the sound of crackling rises from beneath his skilled hands. He takes his own plain knife and reaches for the rabbits.

Curanolas surfaces and waves to Rhibi. "Come help," she calls to him with a grin. "We could use an extra pair of hands." She waits for the boy to join her before diving back to the large object.

Crickle. Two slender feet dangle above the ground, followed by legs, torso, and finally Ostiel's head and out-stretched arms. Wiping random twigs from her gown, the healer cannot help but glance toward the river and the many edhel which surround it.

"What do you think it is?" Rhibi asks Galharth, squatting beside the box he has brought up. He prods it with one forefinger, then turns at Curanolas's call. "I am coming!" He dives back into the water without waiting for the tailor to reply.

A large flat rock has been placed in the now healthy fire and now Dinnan dresses his catch and lays the meat upon the rock to cook. He then gets up and approaches Galharth and Maglind once again, his eyes upon the knife. "It is elven?" He sounds reasonably sure, but is unassuming.

Curanolas points out several objects (both stuck and loose) that need to be taken to the surface as her father surfaces, gets a new breath, and dives back down. She gives Rhibi a questioning look, waiting to see if he wants to help with these things. Naurocaran goes back to the largeish object and begins trying to see how they might get it out of the water.

Staring blankly as activity and words surround him, Galharth frowns and finally focuses on Rhibi before him. "Wha..." He says blinking as the boy races into the water. Then as if sensing eyes upon the handle of the blade. one hand reaches for it and covers it protectively. "It's nothing." His normally friendly expression is clouded, and he pushes himself off the ground to step away.

Pausing, he glances towards Ostiel and for an instant, his gaze softens. That softness does not last, and he offers her a harsh unforgiving stare as he turns and pushes for the water. "There's more to do...." he mutters, diving down before anyone can say anything further.

The boy's red hair floats in the water as he nods and begins to tackle the thing that looks the most stuck. He pries at it with his fingers, then frowns, and shoots for the surface again. "I need a knife!" he calls to the shore. "They are stuck!"

Dinnan snorts a little and retreats towards the fire, muttering under his breath, "that fellow...none of my rabbit...".

Curanolas shoots to the surface behind the boy. "I'll help," she says to him, pulling her dagger from her belt with a smile. "Just get me and let me know if you need help. I am Curanolas of Imladris, by the way." She nods to the boy and to those gathered on the shore.

"Oh," says Maglind to the disappearing clothier, peering at the cryptic ripples of water. The warden shrugs and approaches Ostiel, bare feet making generous puddles on the ground. "Attendant?" he queries, almost apologetically.

Hmmm. Ostiel raises an eyebrow in thoughtful concern, for rare indeed are the moments when Galharth is not polite, at the least. After a moment's hesitation she approaches the group, watching the Clothier slither back into the water. "Maglind," the healer returns by way of greeting, tone unreadable, but not ruffled.

"I am Iaurhanc," Rhibi says, swimming around in a circle and shaking wet hair from his eyes. "I shall need a knife, to pry that thing from the boat." Slim fingers reach for the belt-dagger that Curanolas is holding out. "It is stuck in very hard," he tells her. "I pulled and pulled, but I can't get hold of it."

"Something feels amiss," Maglind says to Ostiel quietly, "the clothier..."

He breaks off mid-sentence, shaking his head. "It is nothing. I am going back to the wreck," he declares hurriedly, shaking his head, and he slips back into the river with nary a splash.

Curanolas nods and seems hesitant to hand over her dagger. In the end, though, she does so, recalling how early in her life she held a dagger in her hands. "Be careful with it," she warns lightly. "It is quite sharp." She looks toward the shore and frowns at Galharth's sudden change. She shakes her head and dives back down toward the object, keeping an eye on the boy.

The smell of cooking meat begins to waft through the makeshift camp.

Dinnan stands close enough to the fire to mind the rabbits, but his dark eyes are more often upon the water, now quick dark and murky with the disturbed silt.

Rhibi rolls his eyes again. Of course it is sharp. It is a /knife/! "I know!" he says, but she is gone. He looks at her knife, then dives again, heading for the strangely-shaped object and beginning to wedge the blade into the wood.

Naurocaran moves to one end of the large object, motioning his daughter to help him wiggle it out of its crusting. She nods, leaving the boy to his object and helping her Ada with theirs. They begin to move the object back and forth, slowly.

As he dives downwards, Galharth glances up to catch sight of Rhibi's and Curanolas's legs moving in the water at the surface. Turning back to the ship, he touches the watery wood, and makes a sweeping dive towards the opening. The instant he touches the hull of the ships housing, his eye glaze over and as before he seems to drift unseeing.

In his eyes, he is no longer underwater and instead vile beasts invade his ship...... it is his ship, he found it, and his expression takes on a stubbornness that defies objection from any. Catching sight of a beast... not knowing that it is in fact Curanolas's father he leaps for it, knocking it over and off his ship.

Gritting his teeth, the clothier looks upwards, and spies more beasts. A threat against his skip lingers! Swimming forth he draws forth his knife, and it seems to sing to him as he lunges within the water towards another daring beast that attacks his ship. Pain fill the crafters expression as for an instant he sees not the beast but Rhibi.... but too late the beast again appears before his eyes and the attack goes forth with a swipe of his blade.

Naurocaran blinks, stunned. He surfaces quickly and gasps for breaths. Curanolas darts toward her father then back toward Glaharth as he attacks Rhibi. She quickly moves in between the blade and the boy, knocking out at Galharth's hand. She winces as the knife catches her arm. The water fills with a bit of blood. Naurocaran cries out for help. "Galharth has gone mad. He's attacking us down here."

Having been watching the water, Dinnan narrows his eyes when there is sudden turmoil beneath the dark surface. He takes a step closer and squints, willing his eyes to pierce the dirt and weeds.

In the depths, Maglind does not enter the cabin, but he stays out of the cloud of silt.

And he sees all. The warden's mouth opens in a wide O, filling with water, and flailing about he reaches for one of the ropes hanging in the water -- pulls it, though it will collapse some tent on the shore -- signalling for help.

Then Maglind draws his own knife, glittering with the rosy dawn, and strikes out towards the fray.

Something swirls in the water behind him, and Rhibi looks over his shoulder. His eyes widen with surprise and shock at the sight of Galharth lunging at him with a blade, and then at Curanolas's unexpected appearance between them. But the shock holds him motionless for only an instant, and then he is ducking out of the way, weaving around the elves in front of him in an attempt to get behind Galharth.

"Galharth!" Ostiel starts, stepping forward into the shallow water. She scans the red-tinted river with hurried glance, and with a graceful arch, dives into the depths.

It does not take her long to spot the struggle, and much like Maglind she swims as quickly as possible toward the danger.

Maglind's signalling rope happens to run right alongside Dinnan's foot and as it moves it disturbs a pile of barnacled treasure sending it all clanking and rolling. The hunter jumps at the sudden sound and as his eyes follow the rope towards the now roiling waters he runs forward, even into the water till he stands up to his hips. Still, he seems loathe to immerse himself and grimaces as Ostiel precedes him. He waits where he is and stands ready to pull elves out, back to the shore.

Curanolas motions for Rhibi to get out of the water, struggling against Galharth. Somehow, she manages to keep hold of her breath, not needing a renewal. She ignores the knick in her arm and delivers another blow to Galharth's hand, trying to knock the knife from it, motioning Rhibi not to touch it.

Naurocaran regains his breath and dives back down to aid his daughter. He too motions for Rhibi to get out of the water, also motioning for him to hand over Curanolas' dagger. Together, father and daughter try to gain the edge on Glaharth.

Drawing what his minds eye sees as black blood, a rage fills the clothiers expression and he pushes off those that might hold him. Darting away from the ship towards another attacker, he drives an elbow into the beasts chest to send it out of his way, knowing not that this beast is actually Maglind.

Breaking the surface a strangled scream fills the air, a sound that mixes an ancient battle cry with anguish of loss. "My ship!" he keens, turning his focus upon the beasts that line the shore. Black and evil, and filled with need to down his blessed vessel and the cargo he carries, Galharth swims with anger. "All shall fall! I swear it!"

But the boy does not turn towards the shore, even though the dagger is taken from him. "Galharth!" he cries, treading water. "GALHARTH!"

Naurocaran and Curanolas shoot up after Galharth, ignoring the others. Curanolas reaches out to grab one of his arms whilst her father reaches for the other after sheathing her dagger. The kick backward at the same time, hoping to drag him in a way that will halt his actions. "Don't worry, Iaurhanc," she calls. "He will be fine. Just get to shore, please." Naurocaran nods his agreement with his daughter's words. "Please, go to shore, little one."

Rhibi's shouting seems to stir an idea in the half-submerged Dinnan. "Galharth of Lorien!" he barks in a deep and resounding voice that seems unlikely coming from such a slight frame.

A stream of bubbles escapes the warden's lips, and he fights for breath rapidly escaping his lungs.

Kicking to the deck of the ship, Maglind pulls at a broken plank, trying to tear it loose -- veins standing out on his head with effort. With a moan of wood and nails it comes free, and the ellon bursts from the water.

"Leave him!" he screams, ragged voice directed to neither Curanolas nor his father, and brings the piece of wood down, down towards the clothier's silvery head.

Ostiel reaches the clothier first, and for a moment merely floats behind him, eyes traveling with the laziness of underwater vision to his upper body, above the water, and his lower, kicking below. Eyes flashing, she thinks...and sees the plank.

'No!'

Bubbles escape her mouth, twisted in fierce distress. Grabbing Galharth's legs, she yanks hard to the right.

Captured! Galharth screams, and jerks around, kicking at his attacker. Lifting the knife he plunges it forth to regain freedom. Kicking again to the side, his bare foot making solid contact with the vile beast that breathes it heated air upon him. "My ship dies, but my lady! My lady!" Again he screams, and filled with fear and panic, he pulls away from that which holds him.

In his attempt to free himself, he finds himself drawn down as a plank swings over his head. Again he screams, painfully, and with anguish as he turns and drags away from the cluster of beasts that keep him. Turning, he faces Ostiel, and yet it is not she who he sees. A lady as fair as is the figurehead appears before him. "I knew you would not leave me..." he whisper. Reaching out he grabs her and pulls her into a tender kiss. As he touches her lips, Galharth grows limp, falling back into the water.

Naurocaran groans and glares at Maglind. "You could've hit one of us," he cries. "Either, help us hold him or get out of the water." Curanolas nods with an equal groan, reaching out for the arm she lost as she gets sideswiped with the knife once more, this time her shoulder bears the brunt. She grabs for Galharth as he falls into the water, pulling him to the surface and knocking the knive from his hand. "Let it fall," she says, eyeing it suspiciously. Naurocaran helps his daughter get the tailor to shore.

Rhibi bobs in the water, red hair plastered to his head. The tangle of bodies before him is now a chaos of splashing and water, and a wave swamps him for an instant. He appears again, just in time to see Galharth go limp. The youth dives for him, hands reaching for his friend to pull him to the surface.

Dinnan lends aid where he can to those coming ashore. He sticks out his hand to Rhibi and says quietly, "He's okay now. C'mon."

Curanolas and her father take Galharth to shore, kicking herself slowly to shore as the adrenaline ceases and the pain comes to her left arm and right shoulder. She notes the trail of blood and blinks. She winces at the pain slightly as the mirky water grazes her wounds. Shaking her head, she helps her father haul Galharth to shore before plopping down on the bank and inspecting her wounds. Naurocaran moves to his daughter and begins cleaning her wounds with a flask of clean water. He looks toward Galharth. "He wasn't himself," he speaks. "Aye, he wasn't," Curanolas agrees. "I think that knife had something to do with it."

Maglind gives only an anguished stare at the others, and the plank slips uselessly from his hands. Then he ducks underwater, swimming back to shore.

"Something has him... mad ... could not control him save by violence..." escapes his lips, and he throws himself on the bank, shivering, trembling, bruising where the elbow struck his chest.

Shock. That is all that registers up Ostiel's face as Galharth's mouth makes contact with hers. Body twisting in the mad clothier's grasp, the healer glances about desperately, looking for escape from this unexpected embrace. However, it seems that she won't need to, for in the blink of an eye the ellon faints, drifting away from her. Before Ostiel can begin to react to this new development, he is snatched up, leaving her bobbing in the water, gaze blank and unseeing, staring straight down into the river's depths. Perhaps she would float there for a bit longer, but fortunately her body begins to drifts upward, coming to the surface. Face tinged with blue, the Attendant blinks, watching the plank float by.

With eyes wide open the clothier's expression is as if experiencing death. His vision clouds and the hands that catch him, visitor and friend alike, he sees not. A tear escapes his eye and he whispers, "Rhibi, Maglind....what, I ...." his voice chokes and while he senses movement it seems distant. Catching sight of Dinnan, his eyes close, shutting everything away from sight, knowing not that he's left behind a mess without explanation.

Naurocaran dresses his daughter's wounds and eyes Galharth with something akin to pity. "Will he be all right?" he asks no one in particular. Curanolas looks up and waits for someone to reply.

Galharth is safe. Rhibi catches hold of Dinnan's hand and climbs out of onto the shore, collapsing nearby and watching the tailor with a strange expression.

The water surges, dark, tainted with blood and something so overwhelmingly evil that Ostiel forgets to breathe, even when her nose breaks the surface. Swirl, red and black. Backpeddling, the healer attempts to escape the unseen force, mouth gaping open in a wordless scream.

The presence chuckles, falls, and returns to whence it came...Ostiel gasps violently, nearly sinking back into the depths, such is the force of her inhalation and return to reality. She looks about frantically, spots the group on the shore, and swims toward them, haunted gaze not daring to look back.

"Who knows?" replies Maglind, crouched on the shore, eyeing the clothier distrustfully. "The treasure is not dead, I think. Let us leave. We will dive no more today."

Dinnan grabs Ostiel under her arm as she reaches the shallows, not waiting for a request of help. His marble-like countenance is creased with concern, once she reaches terra firma. Then, the hunter, shaking his dark hair slightly, retreats towards his fire.