================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 12:58 AM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 44 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Full <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: Wed Aug 08 17:19:27 2007
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Weaver's Talan
Woven intricately about and throughout the branches of this tree, this talan of the weaver is. Overhead is but the canopy of blossoming branches, rays of sun jubilantly dancing through the openings, starlight also peering through in its own turn. Many a lantern hang overhead; ready to be lit when the light becomes too dim for the weaver to work. A pile of baskets dominates one corner; dusty, the majority unused, and apparently made many a year ago. A loom is set in front and to the side of the baskets, sometimes still, but many a time click-clacking away merrily. A wheel used for spinning wool and other raw material into thread stands proudly next to the loom, ahead of the baskets, but the feeling of overcrowding is not present in the least here.

On the opposite side of the talan is a large oblong table laden with many things, a small glass box in the far left corner, and a contraption holding several large bobbins of thread at the far right. Three pots, each smaller than the next, stand together on the table along one side; three gossipers who are only silent while the weaver works. The tallest holds many rolled-up scrolls, the one of medium height and build holding beads of shiny glass, the last and smallest of the trio holding needles and pins. Two mannequins stand next to the table, used to hold works-in-progress when needed.

Contents:
Galharth
Thorhur
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The night lies thick over the Wood, the moon peeking through the trees. Thorhur climbs nimbly into the Weaver's Talan, looking for Galharth. He wishes to congratulate him personally for his achievement. Upon entering, he sees Galharth, and walking closer says, "Hello Galharth. I hope I haven't disturbed you."

Looking up from his work, Galharth lifts a brow. "Nay, you don't disturb me," he replies in a friendly tone as he weaves a needle into the fabric of the trousers he sews. Sitting the unfinished project aside, the clothier rises to his feet and takes a step to the center of the Talan. "Do come in," he says quickly, "How can I help you."

"Well," Thorhur begins briskly, taking a step inside the talan, "I just wanted to congratulate you in person for your accomplishments." Smiling, he takes yet another step closer and looks at Galharth's work. "I was never one for the crafts, and I always admired their skill, considering my skill with a needle is probably the worst you will ever see."

"Thank you," Galharth says with a smile. "It was quite a surprise."

Glancing to the rack of Guard trousers, shirts and robes, the clothier shakes his head. "We can not all be good at the same thing. Thankfully there is always someone who can step up and provide a service when needed."

Thorhur, looking sheepishly, turns to Galharth again and continues, "Actually I had another question. I'm sorry for coming so late, but I had a question for you. Would you recommend picking up some more clothes, maybe some Guard garb?"

'The time is of little matter." Galharth assures quietly. "And yes indeed. I would recommend a specific gard for all Guards." Stepping towards the rack of clothing, the Tailor reaches out a hand towards a dove grey robe. "These colors allow you to sink into shadows, which keeps you from being seen." Turning to the Sentinel, he tilts his head. "Did your trainers not tell you this?"

"They did not mention it, but I am sure they intended to. I have not seen them in a while." Thorhur replies, a bit surprised at this himself.

"Alas, many of the Guard are on the borders." Galharth says as he sweeps an eye over the Sentinel's form. "Perhaps you'd do well to follow your fellow Sentinel's or perhaps a Warden if you wish to learn the skills needed to survive." Reaching forth, he pulls a pair of Dove Grey trousers and offers them to Thorhur. "These should fit. Now..... would you like white or soft grey shirts?" He asks turning back to the rack.

Thorhur eyes the shirts while speaking to Galharth. "Yes that is the case, but they won't put me on the borders until my training has progressed further." Staring for a second more, he points to a soft grey shirt and says, "I think I will take a grey shirt."

"Excellent choice!" Galharth praises as he reaches forth to withdraw two crisp light grey shirts. "While some prefer them, the white shirt reflects the natural glow we carry with us." Offering the shirts to Thorhur, the clothier turns his gaze to look upon the robes. "The Robes are tricky. Not too long to hinder, and not too short to offer no protection from the trees you hide within." Drawing one hand from the shirts offered, he reaches for a mid-length robe. "This should do. It will fall to your knees." Grasping the robe, he glances to the Sentinel. "Is there anything else you need? A cloak perhaps? Winter comes soon, you know."

"Hmmm, the cloak seems well enough," Thorhur remarks. After contemplating, he resumes his thought. "If it's not too much trouble, I would love to see your cloaks, to have something for the winter."

"Indeed I do! The finest cloaks in all of Middle Earth!" Galharth proclaims. Moving away from the rack to the furthest corner of the Talan, the Tailor drops to his knees and fumbles with the lock upon a large chest. "Made of a fine grey cloth, it gives all who look upon it an illusion that fades the wearer into shadows. And for warmth, it's furlined in both the body and the hood." Smiling with pride, he draws a cloak from the chest. "Certainly a guards friend. A cloak such as this is as needed as their bow."

Spreading out the long cloth fabric, the crafter looks towards the Sentinel. "Do you like it?"

"It is fine," Thorhur says, taking the cloak from Galharth. "Thank you so much friend, and good night to you." He smiles and gathers his belongings.

"I'm glad to help," the Tailor says as he watches the Sentinel leave with his new possessions. "Be sure to return should any of it require repairs or replacement." A nod of satisfaction is issued from the crafter as he turns and moves back to his chair to continue to work upon a new pair of trousers.