================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dawn < About 5:09 AM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 25 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Waning Crescent <VISIBLE>
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 Aug 02 10:43:11 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
Galadriel
Ostiel
Maglind
Mia
Thorhur
Curanolas
Taradel
Arahisie
Tauriel
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The sweet chill of autumn dances over the Anduin, sending gentle waves upwards as if to meet the sky. To the east, the horizon bubbles with color, sending forth ripples of reds, yellows, and orange as dawn breaks once more over Middle Earth. A strange silence is held within the wood, as if nature watches the efforts of the first born upon the shore.

"Net's ready!" Galhart calls out as he steps out of the tent with a net and two poles neatly bound together. "Did anyone get the seives yet?" He calls out as he bends to lay down the poles and net.

Maglind is sitting on the pale shore, watching the painted waves lap the stones. "They should be on the grass," he calls to Galharth, and he points to a bundle some distance off.

Rustle, and soft, nearly silent footsteps. Ostiel, emerging out of the wood with basket in hand, looks to the two ellons with something closely akin to trepidation. She says nothing however, at the moment, and approaches them slowly, not even sparing a glance toward the river. Her expression is neutral, but her eyes...they spark and flash, not entirely at ease.

Thorhur, moving through the trees with great speed. His cloak trails behind him as he briskly walks among the trees. He is heading for the river. When he eventually gets there, he has found that others have all ready gathered. Smiling, he looks at each one at nods. "Well met are you all. I came to see if I could be of assisstance to you all."

Nodding his head, the Tailor rolls his shoulders while pushing his rob off. "Well, no time like the present. What say you to a bit of digging in the mud?" With his robe off, Galharth pauses a moment to fold the delicately embrodiered cloth before sitting it on a nearby table. With nimble fingers his shirt is next to go and that too joins his robe.

As he bends to take off his boots, the clothier catches sight of Ostiel. "Well met, Attendant!" With a grin upon his face as his boot slides off, he adds in a teasing voice, "Be wary! Who knows who might seek to kiss you if the knife if found!"

"Do not jest about these things, Clothier," Maglind chides mildly. "Is everything ready?" The warden, too, pulls his tunic over his head, shivering as the autumn mist bites him.

The sound of music drifts softly into the area, slowly becoming louder by the moment. A sense of peace comes across those who hear it, even if the feeling is subconscious. The interwoven melody of the harp strings being plucked in a deft manner can start to be heard clearly in the distance. Taradel walks slowly into the scene, eyes shut as she immerses herself in the music. Upon hearing the commotion before her, she abruptly halts her playing and snaps open her eyes with a start of the head. Her expression of shock turns quickly into a smile of understanding, but she keeps her distance away from the gathered.

Galadriel is here. Most likely she arrived through the passageway, but she did so quietly and without notice. Wrapped in a dark green cloak, her golden hair rustled in the river's breeze: her radiance is dimmed and replaced with a raw sort of beauty that is more fitting to the forest than the city. Slowly, she comes toward the diving party but says nothing.

"Hmph," Ostiel grunts, raising an eyebrow at Galharth, mouth tugging into a wry smile. "I'd like to see them try, if only for amusement." She holds up the basket, quickly switching the subject. "I brought sustenance..and healing supplies." The last is said cryptically.

Pausing with is last boot in hand, Galharth dusts away unseen dirt from the soft leather. "Jest? Had she been around when you found the knife yourself, you might have kissed her too. I was being quite serious." Chuckling softly, he nods towards Ostiel. "I suppose the healing supplies are for the ellon who dares to try anything inappropriate." Laying his boot with its mate, the clothier takes a step towards the sieves. His concentration is so intense upon the task that is to take place that he misses the entrance of several onto the Long Lawn.

As the delicate strains of music tickle his ear, he peers suspiciously at the water as it that is the cause. "Are you hearing....." He says, turning to look towards Maglind. But suddenly he stops and his mouth clamps tightly as he finds that both Taradel and Galadriel have joined them upon the shore. "Well met, Ladies"

"Prepare the winch," smiles Maglind in return, unconsciously toeing the water. But he turns back to the lawn, and offers a merry wave. "Good morning!"

Stoic and silent still, Galadriel nods her greeting but no smile finds her lips. She keeps her cloak tight about her, as if it offered protection. From what? Her eyes travel to innocent surface of the water, then to the figurehead on the lawn.

One might speculate that the elleth that appears along the shoreline has some sort of extra sense, one that alerts her to gatherings, social events, or even the rare but all-too-exciting prank, as she seems to always show up at the most opportune times. A sense that urges her out from hiding, that directs her on where to be and when to be there...

But, then, when the elleth happens to be Mia, such speculations might just be warranted, because here she is. Again. Eyes bright and inquisitive as she heads towards the familiar group, she forgoes a greeting and opts, instead, for a slight clap of her hands and a chipper "Exciting, all this, isn't it?"

Entering the area, Curanolas is clad in a tight fitting tunic and leggings. A cloak is haphazardly flung about her shoulders. She moves into the group. "Mae govannen, mellyn," she says softly, turning to Galadriel, "Milady."

Turning towards Maglind as several carpenters set to work preparing the winch as the Warden requested, the clothier's brows furrow with concern. Shaking his head, he whispers to the Warden, "Winch? We're not to touch the knife so we'd certainly have no need for the winch." Stepping into the water, not far from where the Minister had sent the knife tumbling back beneath the surface, he bends down to dig into the mud to search for the lost knife just as Mia speaks. "Indeed!" He calls out to her, "Danger, mystery, potential for maddness, and playing in mud. Certainly all the needed elements."

"I've heard of maddness before," Mia replies, "It sounds intriguing! I'm not saying I would like to experience it, but it would be interesting to witness, I'm sure."

"I don't know," whispers Maglind in return, glancing at the gathered. "I don't want to be caught by surprise."

The warden moves to squat next to the tailor, putting his own fingers into the thick, hearty silt.

Pausing his digging into the mud, Galharth looks up towards Mia. "Indeed, perhaps you should ask Curanolas," as he speaks, he turns too the visitor from Imladhrim, "How many times did I stab you?" he asks politely.

Tauriel steps into the Long Lawn with Arahisie. Hands clasped in her front, she quietly watches everyone from a distance. Careful not to interrupt. Her hair about her left ear is noticeably wild and unruly.

Arahisie makes his ways down the path and across the long lawn to where others have gathered. Looking out into the water the herald and ancient smith frowns slightly his eye intent on those already in the water.

Curanolas shakes her head. "Twice perhaps thrice," she replies to the tailor. "It was not bad, though. I have healed. Need help there?" She moves toward them, letting her cloak drop to the ground.

"Wise move," Galharth says with a glance towards Maglind. "With so many here, a bout of madness could possibly be deadly." Slipping slightly in the mud, the Clothier drops down to one knee, offering him the view of two more step out onto the Long Lawn.

As Curanolas steps forwards, the Tailor lifts a muddied hand. "Naw, we need not a repeat from our earlier salvaging. Perhaps you can set up the poles and net to hold the knife once we find it." As he speaks, the sieve in his hand digs down into the mud, creating a sucking sound as he pulls the pan upwards, sifting the dirt through the water.

Mia raises an eyebrow as she looks from Galharth to Curanolas and back again. Astonishment evident in her every word, she replies, "Really? You? Why hadn't I heard of this?" She shakes her head briefly, "I... think there is something important that I am missing. But then with the harvest looming, I have been otherwise distracted..." She trails off dreamily, but it can be noted that she takes a moment to step a bit further from the activity. Still within the group of those gathered, yet with a few people between herself and the river.

Curanolas nods and begins setting up the poles. She smiles. "We are being extra careful this time," she says. "I do not think we /will/ have a repeat of last time." She sets up another pole as she speaks.

Laying down the basket, Ostiel steps to the side of the crowd, seating herself upon the ground. There she watches, expression troubled.

"Galharth...Maglind...", Galadriel does not raise her voice much, still it manages to be heard over the rush of the water. "The Anduin is large and the knife is small. Trial and error may not be the most prudent search method. Perhaps you should search in a different method. Fix your mind and fea upon the imparted visions...let the knife find you...again."

Maglind turns his face to the Lady Galadriel, eyes bewildered and haunted. "But that is ... inviting madness to come..."

Nevertheless he closes his eyes, fingers clasped in the mud, water seeping his clothing. "Can you feel anything, Tailor?" he asks quietly.

Tauriel slowly works her way close to where the elves have gathered. Silently she sits herself down directly next to Ostiel. She offers her a warm sincere smile to her before her gaze fall to the others. A flick of her wrist tucks her loose hair behind her damaged ear. It falls loose again almost immediately.

Arahisie moves to take his position dirrectly beside and one step behind the Lady Galadriel, his hand coming to rest apon the hilt of his sword lightly.

As the Lady speaks, the Tailor offers a glance to the Warden. "I do...." he mutters, turning back to the shore, crystal blue eyes peer intently towards Lady Galadriel. Offering no words, he nods once and turns back towards the river. The sun is sill new upon the horizon, but the water clinging to his bare skin flickers as if with excitement.

Wading forth into the water until thigh deep, he suddenly dives down. A moment passes before the sieve circles upwards with the current. Has the knife been found?

Mia looks with furrowed brow at Galadriel, head tilted slightly. She stays silent (for now), but can't help shooting furtive glances at the somber Lady, even as the tailor breaks the surface of the water in the first dive of the day.

Galadriel, silent once again, exchanges a look with her herald, seeming glad to have him there, then her returns quickly to the water, watching the place where Galharth disappeared.

Curanolas finishes settling the net on the poles and stands back, somewhat between the Lady Galadriel and the netting. She looks toward where the Tailor just disappeared.

Tauriel 's head tilts thoughtfully, as she examines the water.

Silence, and the thrilling of waves like the herald of a storm. Maglind's eyes are closed, and the water laps restlessly against him. But now the sieve bumps into his leg, recalling him to the surface.

Blue eyes flash open, piercing as the glance of the sun, and he too darts below the waters, grasping the sieve with one hand. Down and down.

Having surveyed the scene from afar, Taradel works her way closer as she sees Galharth dive underwater. She tenses along with the rest of the gathered, and ponders playing on her harp. She strums a few notes, in hopes of abating people's worst fears for the Tailor.

The water erupts as the Tailor breaks the surface, and in a few strokes, and a few steps with a lowered head, he reveals nothing save a tightly clasped right fist. When his head rises, his eyes focus once more upon Galadriel. "Kin to Kin-slayer," he hisses with hatred long left behind over the ages. "Noldo...." The disgust upon his face is evident, and with a twist of his wrist, the knife is revealed. "You shall not take me too...."

Charging forth, from river, it seems as if Galharth is overtaken once more. Lifting his arm, he aims to drive the deadly weapon into the heart of Lady Galadriel.

Arahisie steps rapidly infront of the lady, moving to intercept Galharth as he exits the water, "Oh no you don't."

Curanolas also steps between the Lady and Galharth easily, reaching out to grab the hand that weilds the knife.

Tauriel 's eyes widen with surprise at what is transpiring. Without a word she raises to her feet and takes a few steps backward.

Quick as a fish, Maglind leaps from the water, scattering river-drops over forgotten net and sieve. With an animal roar, the warden throws himself at the back of Galharth's ankles, grasping with blue-cold fingers.

Galadriel has been passive thus far, but as the first words escape the knife through Galharth, her eyes blaze and her chin snaps up. She lets go of the cloak so tightly wrapped and the wind whips up her hair. Terrible and beautiful is she, "No!" she says in a deep voice also ringing with the ages. The imperative seems directed both at Galharth and those coming between them.

Silence has fallen across those gathered, thick as stew but not nearly as satisfying.

Until, that is, Galharth resurfaces. Horror dawns upon the sometime-gardeners face as she begins to realize what is happening. Two bodies have come between the Lady and her attacker, but it is not enough! Mia screams "No!" and reaches her hands out to push Galadriel, hopefully, out of harm's way.

A step to the side, a swing to the left, and the Tailor continues to charge forth. "Are you here pet? Or are you one of them!" Galharth sneers in a voice so very much unlike his own. With the knife, he swings his arm, aiming to strike the Herald's shoulder, enough so to clear the barrier before him.

Stumbling as his eyes catch sight of the Noldo rising up into her full glory, fear flickers deep within at the sound of her voice. "Your kind killed them! Now you haunt me! You must die!"

Galharth attacks Arahisie with a knife...
Arahisie dodges Galharth's attack.

Curanolas halts slowly as Galadriel speaks. She turns and reaches once more for the knife.

Tauriel stands frozen watching events unfold from a safe distance. Her jaw is dropped by what is beginning to transpire, never has she seen this kind of behavior in her short lifetime. Another careful step backward is taken.

Arahisie twists at the last moment to avoid the blade thrust at him. His eyes narrowing as he moves to attempt to grapple Galharths knife baring arm, "You will not harm the lady."

Arahisie attacks Galharth with his Bare Hands!...
...and he misses!

Maglind misses ignominiously, falling flat on his face. "Get the winch!" he yells to those present, muffled by grass, before he picks himself up again and chases the Tailor. Thin, dripping arms reach out on either side, trying to wrap Galharth in a tight hug.

Maglind attacks Galharth with his Bare Hands!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

Curanolas leaps for the knife as Arahisie moves.

Curanolas attacks Galharth with her Bare Hands!...
...and she hits! Ouch!

Eyes upon one attacker, Galadriel does not see Mia coming, taking the full brunt of the hit. The Lady stumbles, but takes Mia down with her. Only the Noldo takes advantage of the temporary scuffle and with a grace and alacrity unlooked for in someone usually so properly postured, she rolls, beneath the arms of her herald till she is between he and Galharth. Coming easily to one knee, there is a flash of movement and the Lady's own dagger, with squirrels carved daintily into the hilt is in her hand. Below him as she is, she takes a small single cut towards the hand that holds the knife...

Galadriel pulls her dagger out of the silver sheath on her belt and holds it aloft like a shard of starlight.

Galadriel attacks Galharth with her Dagger!...
...and she hits! Ouch!

Tauriel takes another step backward. Eyes never breaking from the action unfolding. Eyes focused on the action, she leans over and picks up a fist sized rock from the ground.

It has been quite some time since this elleth has seen any type of action, and so it is with both relief and horror writ upon her face that Mia finds her footing in time to see the unhurt Galadriel rise, then pull a weapon on the maniacle tailor. Again, she screams "No!" this time directed at the Lady as her weapons finds it's mark, and she stumbles forward.

"They have been lost to your kind!" Galharth calls out, fully emersed in the vision that chokes his senses. "Oooooof!" he gasps as the Warden tackles him from behind, sending him stumbling, though not fully on the ground. As he goes to recover, another form lashes out for his knife, and again he stumbles, falling to one knee before the terrifying Noldo before him. Drawing back his arm to strike at her, a sharp pain laces over his wrist, and his own knife is sent flying onto the ground nearby.

Gasping and drawing his bloodied wrist to his chest, he blinks several times and collapses into tears before Galadriel. "I... I... I know not what..." His words are slurred, and his sobs are painfilled. Clearly the vision holds him no more.

Galadriel pages Mia and Galharth: Big scuffle, lots of confusion, pokey daggers flying...who could blame you?

Curanolas wraps her hand in her belt, lifts the knife without touching it, and settles the nuisance into the net. She turns toward Galadriel and Galharth. "Everyone okay?" she asks, breathless.

Kneeling, facing Galharth, Galadriel, daughter of ages past drops her own weapon and tears fill those oh-so-ancient eyes. With a sudden and earnest movement she clasps Galharth to her and presses her cheek to his.

Tauriel takes a few steps forward. Still fondling a rock in her palms. Her brow furrowed with thought. Her eyes focused on the strange dagger.

Curanolas keeps her eye on the net and its contents. She keeps the others from laying hands on it.

Silent as death, Maglind sits on the ground, thoughful and mindless. A cold wind rouses him, and he shivers, clad in bare skin.

The warden turns, and his eyes focus on Tauriel. "Elleth," he calls gently, pointing to the basket of healing supplies forgotten on the ground, "could you please bring us a bandage?"

Arahisie moves to stand next to Curanolas looking down at the dagger, the ancient smith frowns deeply, "We will have to figure out how to destroy it.."

Curanolas nods knowingly. "Indeed we will," she says softly. "It has caused nothing but pain."

Tauriel gives Warden the politest of nods and quickly steps toward the basket. Dropping to her knees she removes a bandage from within and immediately brings it to him. "Yes at once Warden..." she says softly as she hands it over..

Mia is speachless (which is an accomplishment!) as she looks to the embracing pair. But it is fleeting, and soon she is shaking her head vehemently and repeating, "I take it back... I don't ever want to see that again...."

Sobbing as a child, it is clear that the vision has deeply affected the Tailor. "I can not bear the knife any longer." he wispers in a pained voice. With unfocused eyes, he looks out over the water. "He fled the attacks from the kin-slayers, only to fall to beasts that lurked upon the shores....."

Closing his eyes, he nods to Arahisie's words. "It holds pain that crosses through the ages, ever seeking to purge itself." With that Galharth falls quiet as if fallen into a deep sleep.

"Thank you," says Maglind to Tauriel with a weak, but earnest smile. He turns.

"Knives breed blood, my lady," he murmurs gravely, holding the bandage out to Galadriel. "Perhaps this will help."

Tauriel returns Maglind's smile, but quickly turns her gaze toward Curanolas net. "Hmmm." she says eyeing. "We should destroy this... I could smash it with my rock.." she says innocently.

Galadriel releases one arm from around Galharth and points at the knife, "No one touch it!" She looks first at Mia, then long at Maglind, standing above she and the tailor. Then her voice drops and her lips still close to Galharth's ear, "I did not mean for him to touch it..only to find it." She sighs and her eyes close, spilling the tears that rested there upon her cheeks. "I am sorry, brother. The fault is mine." Her brow creases and a few more silvery tears escape. She takes Galharth's wounded hand in her free one as she keeps the other wrapped about his shoulders.

Curanolas shakes her head. "It will take more than that, mellon," she says softly. "More likely a hot fire and burrying it far from here."

Arahisie shakes his head to Tauriel before looking back down to the knife. "We should carry this to the forges hammer and tounge will need to be use. I suggest we melt it down."

Curanolas turns to Arahisie. "Indeed," she says. "But I do not think we should keep the metal anywhere near here."

Tauriel turns her head to look to Arahisie. "I told you that they should leave this alone.."

Arahisie shakes his head, "No leaving it could have been worse. Had some one found it when we where not prepared some dire injury could have been caused. Though no fault of the bearer." he look oave to Galharth as he speaks.

Tauriel nods slightly. "Would it not corrode away under the waves.. It could do no harm then.."

Laying the forgotten bandage down on the grass, Maglind quietly stands, bare footsteps swift and muddy. He passes by the net and its burden with hardly a glance, past the basket of healing supplies, and seats himself slowly on the white pebbles of the shore. There he gazes at the sunrise upon the waters, hugging his knees, eyes cold and silent as the river.

Curanolas passes her discarded cloak to Maglind. "Here," she says gently. "Keep yourself warm, mellon." She turns back to Arahisie. "I will be happy to burry it far from here when Celebringil and I return home to Imladris, if you wish it."

Tauriel glares at Curanolas on mention of her return to Imladris... "Excuse me" she says softly as she steps out of the area...

The warden pushes away the proffered cloak with a polite but firm hand. "No," he says, his voice resolute and his eyes still fixed, "I shall be fine."

Mia steps towards the Lady and the tailor, her tone soft, "Will he be allright? Shall I go ahead and ready a place for him above the rose garden?" Her expression is one of deepest concern, both for the Lady she addresses, and the ellon she supports. "And what of Lord Celeborn? I could go and inform him..." She lowers her head, then looks at Galadriel with tears in her eyes, "Please, tell me what to do next?"

Galadriel looks up at Mia, weary and grateful, "Yes, to the healers first. His body is well, but his fea will need attending to. Then to my Lord...I will need him. But Galharth is first."

Mia nods, swallowing back sadness and replacing it with determination... but not before reaching out to gently touch first Galadriel on the cheek, then Galharth. "It will be done," she says simply, then turns runs towards the high green wall and the woods beyond. Swift of foot, she is gone almost before her words have stopped ringing in the early morning air.

The Lady eases the tailor onto the ground and covers him with her own cloak. Rising at last, and with some difficulty it seems, she finds her herald with her eyes, "Arahisie, can you find the nearest guards and help them to convey Galharth to the City. I will handle the knife." Then, she crosses the green expanse to where Maglind sits on the shore. She bends over his shoulder, her golden hair falling before her face, "I ask your forgiveness, Warden. Though I am undeserving."

Arahisie says, "It will be as you say m'lady." he bows and moves to to gather a gaurd to assist Galharth to the healers.

Curanolas looks toward Galadriel. "Anything I can do, milady?" she asks.

Where was she headed? The healing telain. Where was the Herald to confirm or deny such outrageous rumors? Probably catering to Galadriel's every whim, telling her how fabulous she is, fixing his hair. The usual.

"There is naught to forgive," replies the warden softly, eyes stretched longingly over the shore. "You have done nothing wrong, my Lady. As for me ..." Maglind rises hastily and gathers his clothes in one arm, tearing himself away. "I am going back to the borders. Send Galharth my apologies."

Galadriel lets Maglind go without another word. Tall and straight she is again, and the vulnerability displayed only minutes past is gone. She strides toward the last resting place of the wicked knife. Looking at Curanolas as she goes past, Galadriel shakes her head, "There is not much left to be done, friend. Though perhaps you could carry Galharth's things back to the city for him." She then continues, though seems wary of getting too close to the knife. For now, she just regards it silently, her eyes narrows and her hands arms straight at her sides.

Curanolas nods and collects Galharth's things slowly carrying them back to the city.

Without another word, Maglind runs blindly toward the passageway, tunic and boots forgotten in one hand: fleeing from this sunrise of water and blood.