================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Afternoon < About 5:33 PM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 6 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: First Quarter <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 15 06:51:22 2007
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Field Hospital
You are in a small clearing cut into the thickets. All about you, the bushes and trees grow thick and unwavering, blocking out most of the sunlight and dimming the atmosphere. Despite the lack of sunlight or moonlight, the clearing gives of a calm, quiet, secure feeling. Here is where the Cuigrithweg have made their Field Hospital. Several woven mats are laid about on the ground in neat rows and a pair of small chests rest at the north side of the Hospital. High above the mats, a large tarp is strung to provide some shelter on the off chance that it should rain.

Contents:
Galharth
Thorhur



The warmth of late afternoon filters down through the thick canopy that shades the Field Hospital of Lothlorien. Birds and wildlife sing and chirp merrily as they set about gathering food and nesting material in preparation for the coming winter. The foliage has begun to change within the wood. Golden leaves take hold in the Mallorn trees as reds, yellows, and oranges blaze upon the oaks, maples, and birch. Activity abounds within the hospital, as the Attendants prepare to move the patients to the city.

Laying upon a cot, with his head propped up, the Tailor Galharth lies comfortably. In his hands he works a fine string with a slender hook, skillfully crocheting a length of lace. As he works, the crafter hums softly, occasionally mouthing delicate words as if he were speaking to the material he now makes.

Thorhur sits up admiring the scenery around him. Happily he looks at his arm, which is on the verge of being completely healed. The pain is barely noticeable anymore. However, certain memories are still vivid in his mind though, and at intervals he could be seen shooting angry and reproachful looks at Galharth. He wants to say something but does not want to arouse the attention of the healers. So, he takes out his longbow and lays it on his lap, pretending to examine it. He is shocked at how bored he has been here, considering all the activity that takes place.

Pausing his work for a moment to scan the hospital, Galharth's brow rises slightly as his gaze falls upon the Sentinel Thorhur. "The healers would not take kindly to the presence of a weapon in a place of healing." Galharth says softly as he stares at the bow. "It might be wise to have someone remove it, before it is seen."

Thorhur gives Galharth a long reproachful glance. He is so tempted, to say something, but without a word he briskly puts the longbow back under his cot and stares at the trees. "I wouldn't have my longbow here, for I would not be here either, if it weren't for your organizational skills, which I must say the orcs have truly surpassed," Thorhur mutters angrily, keeping his eyes locked on the trees.

Looking down at the work in his hands, the Tailor moves his hands so that the slender hook weaves several stitches into the growing length of lace. "You attribute the disaster to my planning then?" Galharth asks in a calm voice. "Such as who went, the path we took, and perhaps who might be performing what duty?"

Thorhur feels his anger rising. "Are you ignorant to the comments you made to me a couple nights ago? Do you not remember what you said to me and Mithsul? What I say is partially true! Did you expect to improvise as you went along, and base the plan on the actions of a gigantic troll that ended up severly injuring four of the five people present?" after a brief pause, he continues, his voice a hiss. "Then, instead of thanking those that came to aid you, you criticize them! We could have been killed by that troll, but instead of realizing that you make disrespectful comments! Next time go alone, and see how a one Clothier fares against a troll!"

The slender hook continues to dance in the hands of the Tailor, and his expression remains unchanged as he both listens and works. "From your tone and your accusations, I fear I might not have been present so indeed, you may well have to tell me what I've said." Pausing his work a moment, he looks up and tilts his head. "Before we address this, I must say that you've still not answered me, but from your words, it seems clear that you've attributed all to me." The corner of his mouth rises slightly. "Instead, I ask you this: What are my jobs within this wood? To keep things simple, titles alone are enough to identify them." His gaze remains upon the Sentinel, hinting at expectation to the answers that might come forth.

Thorhur, instead of giving a lengthy answer, merely stares at the answer. "Your cheek displeases me," he says gruffly. Then, before turning back, he gives one hateful glance at Galharth, and speak in a voice barely a whisper. "Sometimes it is easier to find fault in others than in ourselves. Perhaps this will help you, or should I speak slower?" at this he smiles mockingly and turns his gaze back to the trees. He feels that he has gotten his point across, but still expects the mock ignorance of the Clothier to return.

"Very well," Galharth says. "I shall take the matter up with the Marchwarden Haldir, or the Commander Legarwin. It does not bode well for the wood to have a Sentinel that does not understand the chain of command within the Guard, nor is it acceptable to have one go off on tangents of irrational anger such as you have when we were all subject to the Lord Celeborn's orders regarding patrols outside the Wood." Bowing his head, the Tailor sets himself back to work. "I believe it is quite possibly in the best interest of all to have you removed from the Guard so that you do not pose any further danger to yourself or those around you." With that, Galharth falls silent, returning to his crocheting, softly weaving the lace with his hands.

Thorhur looks at Galharth in surprise. "You wish to remove me from the Guard for becoming angry? Anger is something we all feel! In addition to that, I understand my position perfectly well. Whoever leaves the wood must be accompanied by a patrol! I was just setting a scenario for you! You know, Galharth, that I am always happy to help, but I was just trying to prove a point. Perhaps if you thought I was being serious you should learn to realize when things are said in sincerity and when they are said insincerely! Of course I would help you if you undertook the mission again, but at the present time I am angry of the comments you made." Finished with his monologue he turns over on his side again and falls silent.

"The point failed to find it's mark." Galharth says as his hand continues to move, working the string into a delicate lace. "Lord Celeborn dictated the terms of all patrols leaving the wood, Maglind planned and led patrol from the wood." Pausing, his work, the Tailor stretches out the string, freeing up a kink in the material before he sets back to work. "You speak of disrespect, and yet with incomplete facts, you speak to a Guild Master as you have. I've nothing more to say to you Thorhur, and as I said, anything further will be presented to those above you." Clearly from the Clothier's expression, he has set himself back to work, and has now tuned the Sentinel out.

Thorhur, sighing deeply, suddenly feels concern the Clothier, and even though he gets the feeling his words will not be heeded, he speaks anyway. "I know how you felt Galharth. You did not wish to admit defeat because you were afraid of how others would view you. Galharth, we all played a part in those events, so were are all to blame. The blame cannot be laid on any one person's shoulders, but while you shouldn't blame others, you should also not blame yourself. Galharth, I can guarantee you that a person would be more respected by those around him if he admitted his faults rather than lay the blame on others." With that said, Thorhur turns over once more and stares with little interest at the trees.