================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Afternoon < About 5:54 PM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 45 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Waning Gibbous <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 09
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Archery Range
The trees here become more and more dense the farther you go from the training field. It is still very sparse around you; bright spots of sun light chase after each other in the lush grass. Not far away, the songs by many Elven voices mix with the sounds of splashing water and the quiet whisper of wind in the leaves. But not even a bird breaks the silence around you. Here, scattered among the trees, stand the archery targets. It would be wise for you not to be in front of them.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Mithsul
Mia
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"Here let me help," Mithsul moves behind the target, grasping it from behind to steady it for Maglind, "And yes, I am Mithsul, Galharth spoke of your wish to talk with me." The morning sun shines upon Mithsul's face, accentuating his longish nose by casting a shadow across his lips. "If I remember correctly he said something about a patrol to the northern borders."

"Indeed," says the warden, frowning as he pulls out a headless arrow. "Not a patrol, but rather a retrieval. Last season the tailor Galharth built a catapult to net trolls. We took it to the borders and were attacked."

Maglind dusts off his hands and slips the arrow into his quiver. "We wish to retrieve this contraption, but there is great danger in the foothills. There is the possibility we will be attacked again, by torog or orch. But I have seen you to be quite competent in the guard. Would you accompany the small group? It is your own choice."

The warden watches Mithsul, eyes grave, fingers restless against the broken arrow.

With a neat stack of trousers being balanced in the crook of his right arm, the Tailor Galharth steps out onto the arcery range. Pausing at the edge of the field, he scans the faces of those present. Catching sight of a young Warden, he hurries toward him. "Finally! I've been looking all over the wood for you, Tigilloth." Offering the pile of trousers to the dark haired ellon, Galharth smiles. "Three pair, as requested." After a few words of thanks, and hints of future orders, the crafter turns to leave.

As he's walking along, he pauses and catches sight of Maglind and Mithsul. "Well met, my friends!" he calls out as he turns direction and heads towards the pair.

Well, this is an interesting sight! Coming along the path from the training field is a maiden with longbow in hand (easily dwarfing her slight frame) and a quivver of arrows slung over one shoulder. Normally this would be nothing unusual; a perfectly normal thing to witness on any random day, and yet... well, the maiden happens to be dressed in a lavender gown more suited to court life than warmongering. She also happens to be a healer, which would make her somewhat of an oddity here. And it probably makes it odder, still, as she is one who is familiar to most of those who are assembled, but only rarely glimpsed at this place.

There are some that nod a curt hello to Mia, and those who look upon her with disappointment, but mostly there are those who offer a smile and a warm welcome, which she gladly returns. Spying a trio of familiar faces, she moves her feet in their direction.

"The borders of our realm represents the end of safety for our people. One can not gaurantee ones well-being when ventures near, or over the borders." Mithsul's normally relaxed, and often joyful mien clouds breifly before his expression once more falls serious but distant. "Yet these borders also represent the line of safety, and as I told Commander Legarwin when he accepted me into the Order, my first and foremost reason is to defend our borders." Settling his gaze upon the Warden Mithsul straightens from his postition behind he target before he answers again. "Of course I will gladly go and help retrieve this, net throwing catapult?" His voice lifts toward the end, forming the statement into a question.

Turning at the sound of Galharth's voice Mithsul spies the tailor, but also the healer in lavendar and lifts one corner of his mouth in greeting that encompassed both the new comers. "Good morning to you Galharth, Warden Maglind was filling me in on the details of this catapult that was left behind. It sounds as if it might be troublesome at best to get back."

The warden smiles dimly. "I am glad. But perhaps the Master Tailor can tell you some more?" Maglind looks to Galharth, and Mia who comes near, and offers a friendly wave.

"Troublesome?" Galharth asks with confusion. "Oh my no, it's constructed in parts for ease of transport." Shrugging his shoulders, he continues to speak. "We would have brought it back in the last attempt had we not been faced with a few beasts."

Turning towards Maglind, he sweeps a hand in the ellon's direction. "Do you recall Maglind? The Warg?" Stretching his other hand out, he turns his head slightly "It was this big, and...." He pauses as he catches sight of Mia, "Mia! Well met!"

Mia smirks at the Master craftsman's story, "And you'd be able to prove it, if it hadn't have gotten away? I think I have heard this story before..." She trails off as she plants the end of her bow on the ground, gently leaning her weight upon it. "But well-met are we all, or do I assume much due to expressive faces and joyful conversation? I thought I heard mention of the catapault, or are my ears deceiving me?"

"The Catapult indeed is our topic of interest today my friend. Perhaps you could shed some light?" Mithsul strokes his slightly pointed chin with one finger in a thoughtful fashion. "Hmm might I ask a question, if it is not too forward of me." Mithsul crosses his arms across his slight chest, wiry muscles moving gracefully lending him an apparence of one completely relaxed. "Its a net throwing catapult, designed I assume for capturing things. Is it broken and being returned to the city for repairs? Or simply being moved closer inward to better be protected?" Turning toward Maglind, looking perhaps for agreement or disagreement he finishes his questions. "Would it not serve us better a bit inward but still at the ready to be launched?"

"Well," begins Maglind, and a shadow creeps over his face, "we did experiment it. And it worked. But perhaps it would be wiser to move it where it may be adjusted. What say you, Galharth?"

"T'is true Mia! The Warg was as big as I've described, and as Rhibi will tell you, he killed it!" Galharth defends quickly. "And yes as Mithsul says, we speak of the catapult. The same catapult we tested on a troll. We're finally going to get the last of its pieces." Nodding towards Maglind, he continues. "Indeed, it needs to be set back up, and perhaps we can use it in a place that has few trees to catch the net."

Raising a hand, the Tailor chuckles. "And no, not in the city. Since Rhibi used it to play the part of a flying Eagle, the Lady Galadriel banned it from the city."

Mia nods to each, in turn, as they have their say, snickering only for a moment as Galharth relates the tale of the warg, her head shaking slowly from side to side. "You should have said Rhibi was involved from the beginning, that would have explained it all. And if you are, indeed, talking of moving the catapault, don't you think that he would want to be involved, as well? At least in part of it, as it will take some time to disassemble, move and then put it all back together again."

She can't help but smile towards the Warden and Sentinel. "I must say, it makes me happy to see that the Order has decided to support some of Galharth's ideas. A tailor he may be, but there is more to him than simply that: a cunning mind that could have done well among the rank and file. But I digress... if help is needed, you know that you can count on me; like in finding a place for it! Open space is all well and good, but how much space? How far away should the trees be? So many questions..."

The Sentinel nods in agreement with Mia as he once more turns back toward the Tailor. "When and where will this endeavor take place, so that I can make arrangements to be at the meeting place at the proper time."

"Soon," replies the warden, looking at Galharth. "Be prepared. There have been movements beyond the northern border, if I am not mistaken. Bring your bow."

Pressing his lips tightly together, the clothier slowly nods his head. "Maglind mentioned something along that line, but I just don't know...." He pauses and takes a quick breath. "If he finds us before we leave, he can join us. Does that seem fair?" Holding his serious composure for a moment more, a smile spreads across Galharth's face. "Somehow I think he'll find us."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he eyes Mia carefully. "Perhaps you should join us. Considering the results of our last two trips, prehaps preparation would forestall any further ill encounters." Glancing between Mia and the Sentinel, the crafter replies, "We're to meet Aragorn at the crossroads north of the city tomorrow. Maglind here has told me two days, and that was a day past." Tilting his head towards the Warden, he adds, "He worries, but I do trust him with my life."

Thorhur has returned to the Archery Range to retrieve something. He starts his search casually, then is surprised by the group assembled. "Oh, hello everyone," he greets the group lightly. "How are you all?"

"The boy probably already knows..." Mia replies as she looks over her shoulder, almost as if anticipating the child to come charging up to them at any moment. "He has his ways." But it is not Rhibi that she sees, but Thorhur, and it is with a smile that she greets him. "We are deep in discussion, friend, but do not hesitate to join us. Perhaps yours is the opinion that will lead us to a new resting place for Galharth's little toy."

Mithsul nods in affirmation towards Galharth. "Tomrrow at the crossroads it is then. I shall meet you there." Turning towards the Lawn, the Aderthad lifts a hand in farewell to the small gathering. "I must depart, there are much preparations to make for the Feastival and now for this as well. I bid you all good evening." With that said Mithsul starts to depart, the morning sun highlighting his back.

"Farewell, Sentinel," calls Maglind over the quiet air, gathering his arrows in one hand. "Then it is settled. For the location," the warden says, turning to Mia, "let us put it somewhere safe and away from the borders. A quiet glade, perhaps?"

Turning his glance to Mia, he smiles. "I feel you are right. Rhibi surely knows and might even be on his way to the Crossroads now to assure that he will not be left behind." Sweeping a hand towards Maglind, he adds, "The Warden here is his monitor of sorts, so all is well if he is present."

"I'll see you soon Sentinel. And don't be late!" the clothier calls out as Mithsul goes to leave.

Tilting his head as he looks upon the Warden, the Tailor furrows his brow. "Would it not be of some use along a border somewhere? Perhaps our eastern border where the trees give way to meadow?"

"Excuse me," Thorhur asks exepectantly. "I don't mean to be rude, but what is going on?"

Without waiting for a reply, Thorhur sees what he's looking for and leaves the group.

Mia looks to Maglind, trying to fight back laughter. "You will be keeping an eye on Rhibi? Then let me be the first to wish you amazing luck, as you will need every bit of it!" She shakes her head, then watches with interest as Thorhur suddenly disappears. Eyebrow cocked, she takes her bow (that has gone unused) and a deep breath. "This was rather pointless today, wasn't it? It seems my time would be better spent preparing for the work ahead... Anyway, I suppose I should meet with you a bit later, go over what will be needed, gather supplies and whatnot." She turns to leave, holding her weapon up as she walks away, "Farewell for now!"

Maglind sighs at the mention of the boy. "Amazing luck and much more."

Planting his bow resolutely in the grass, the warden looks to Galharth. "I don't know. Perhaps we will find a place for it as we travel there. -- There have been heavy prints in the foothills, master tailor. Are you prepared to fight for that contraption?"

"There is little that is worth dying for, but I would indeed like to make the effort to retrieve it so that we might use it to our advantage." Galharth says firmly. "But, should things turn foul, it is indeed better to destroy it and flee with our safety in mind."

Watching as the group grows ever smaller as kindred depart, he offers the Warden a smile. "Perhaps we should also do what needs done to prepare for our journey. It would not do well to have either of us missing from the group that might gather at the crossroads."

"Aye," says Maglind, stepping aside as arrows begin to soar overhead again. "I will talk to my marchwarden, and to my father. And then I will go to the forest. Farewell, Galharth."

Taking a step to leave the Archery Range, the Tailor pauses and looks towards the Warden. "If I've not said it before, I wish to thank you for your help in keeping both me and my projects safe." A smile flashes over Galharth's lips and he turns and quickly departs, leaving his words for consideration.