================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Night < About 9:22 PM >
IC day is: Orithil <Moon-day>
IC date is: 8 Firith <Fading>
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: Wed Aug 15 16:07:28 2007
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Rose Garden
You stand in a small rose garden dazzled in white, red, and yellow. Placed in an circular pattern about the garden, a walkway made up of small, uplifted ceramic tiles form rings of walking space surrounding a large golden mallorn planted in the center. Shade from its limbs splay outward over this walkspace to provide for a pleasant atmosphere. Here and there, benches, one with a lamp rising up out of the ground next to it, are placed for guests to enjoy the shade and the scenery.

To the south, a tall hedge hides the entrance to the shaded lawn. East, among a gnarly set of old oak trees, a small path leads to the Apothecary, while to the North another path leads to the Northern Gardens. To the West, a gate leads out to the Golden Roadway. Lastly, to the side, sparkling beneath a silver arch, a set of stairs can be seen leading to a talan up above. Shown by the starlight, twinkling down from the sky, all is quiet in the Garden.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Amazulie
Lostiriel
Aeglirhaeron
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The moon sleeps and the stars are hidden, but the night is alive. Elven-song spirals down from the healing telain, and the sleepy scent of roses permeates the garden. This is a quiet place, free and far from the terrors of the marches.

Not quite. For one of the wounded rests here, wrapped in fresh bandages and a white robe, and he lies here upon a bench. A white rose glimmers in Maglind's hand.

Near the Warden, the Tailor Galharth pokes at the bandage on his leg. "If I can get a Carpenter to come visit, I'd manage mobility," the Tailor complains. "I suspect that they know my plans, for they're avoiding the Healing Talan."

Wincing slightly, the clothier attempts to move his leg as he shifts to look at his friend. "How are you feeling Maglind?"

The scent of the roses almost seemed intoxicating to her. Her footsteps were silent as she walked through the garden. A slender hand reached out, touching the delicate petal of one of the roses. Such a magnificent flower, beautiful, delicate, but with dangerous thorns that protect it from the ill will of other creatures. Amazulie's ear twitched just slightly at the sound of voices furthur into the garden. Being the curious sort, she went out to find the source. From around the bush, the slender elf emerged, eyeing the two wounded elves curiously.

But Maglind cares not for thorns, and he holds the slim stem close in one pale hand. "Better," he says to Galharth. "Though I wish I could stand. I am tired of seeing people walk sideways. Even the sky is tiring."

Straining to rise, he catches sight of the newcomer. "Good even," he calls faintly.

"It helps little to even sit up," Galharth mutters as he once more pokes at the bandage at his leg.

Glancing up as a face peers around a bush, the clothier's brow rises slightly. "Well met," he says lifting his hand from his leg to offer a wave. "Come, sit with us and save us from a moment in eachother's company."

Amazulie nods polightly to the two. "Good evening." she glanced between them and offers a warm smile. "It seems the faes have not smiled too kindly upon you of late." She moved silently towards the two, only the quiet whisper of the skirt about her ankles could be heard.

"Nay, nay," says Maglind, smiling gently, "we have brought it upon ourselves. Come, what brings you to the gardens this late?"

The warden grasps the edge of the bench and pulls mightily, coming into a sitting position; thankfully, no blood seeps through the bandages this time.

"Is pretty sure that the Troll brought it upon us, Maglind." Galharth mutters as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Neither you, nor I, or any other injured specifically asked....."

Falling silent, the clothier smiles shyly. "Apologies," he says softly. "I am Galharth, a Tailor in these woods." His smile brightens slightly and he adds, "and I'm not usually noted for complaints, though it might seem as such at the moment."

Amazulie kneels in the grass close to the two. "I come here because of the silent beauty the garden holds. It gives me peace and tranquility." She answered the first question. Her emerald gaze turns to Galrath, bowing her head lightly to him. "I am Amazulie. I have heard rumors of the troll attack, but saw nothing fist-hand. It is good that you still remain with us then, very good. You have reason for complaint, surely the wounds suffered by such a monsterous abomination are nothing minor."

"Those who threaten must be met with force," says Maglind quietly, clinging heavily to the railing. "We are well now. I am Maglind, a warden."

He turns to Galharth, leaning close to the other's ear: "My father brought word of an attack by yrch. Perhaps we should discuss this later, but it gives me concern."

"Well met then Amazulie, it is a pleasure to meet you," the Tailor says with a smile. "And nay, injuries are no cause to complain, for I know well it could be worse."

Shifting his position, Galharth gasps slightly and a hand flies to his leg as he fidgets slightly to find a comfortable spot. After a moment he settles and turns his gaze towards the Warden. "Uruk? First the Troll and now Uruk? Alas, the matters are growing foul upon our borders. Has your father said if the Guard increased their patrols? "

Amazulie says, "The pleasure is mine." She looks between the two as they converse."

Entering the rose garden, Lostiriel appears to be drifting in her own world, for she is at first oblivious to those who occupy the space. As she enters, she plucks a white rose and holds it up to her nose, breathing in its scent as the petals blossom against her face, almost exactly matching the fair complexion of her skin. As she hears the sound of voices, she lifts her head and grey eyes scan the permiter, falling upon those who are also occupying this garden. She smiles softly and says, "Galharth! It is good to see you in places beyond the field hospital, and the same to you Maglind." Her eyes fall next to one she has yet to meet, "Well met. I am Lostiriel." She slowly walks over to them, twirling the rose in her hand as she moves forward.

Maglind shakes his pale head. "He does not know. But I can guess. With such hazards, is it wise to go back, Master Tailor?"

The warden grips the fragile blossom in both hands, staring at the ground.

Lifting a hand and sweeping it towards the Courier, the Tailor chuckles softly. "Our savior! Well met and good eve, Lostiriel." Lowering his hand, he pokes at the bandage on his leg again. Pausing a moment, he glances towards the healing talan. "Do you think they're still keeping an eye on us?" he whispers more to himself than anyone present.

As Maglind speaks, Galharth turns his head and furrows his brow. "Should Thorhur have his way, I'd go retrieve the captapult alone," he snorts harshly, "Which is fine by me, as I'd not like to insult another Guard such as he."

The sound of a feminine voice behind her gains her attention. Slowly he turns her emerald gaze back o the lady elf, smiling as she rose from her kneeling position. "Well met, I am Amazulie." She bows her head respectfully to the lady elf. She steps back politely, so to open a spot for Lostiriel to join the small gathering. Her gaze turns back to the two injured, smiling softly.

Smiling at Amazulie, Lostiriel moves into the gathering. She appears focused on the rose for a moment as it holds her gaze, but when she looks up, her eyes are troubled. "I had hoped that this sort of discussion would have passed," Lostiriel sighs as she hears the conversation between Galharth and Maglind. "I see that it has not." She avoids looking at Maglind altogether, for this has already been discussed between them, and he has heard her opinion. "And again I ask, for my question was ignored last time, what is all this about Thorhur?" Her eyes, though troubled, are also curious and focus on Galharth as she waits for his response.

"I know not," says Maglind, eyes flashing briefly as they turn to Lostiriel. "But to go alone is a foolish notion. If you try to leave in this state, I will stop you." How? The warden eyes his own bandages reproachfully.

"Thorhur? Certainly I don't know. Perhaps he was hit in the head for suddenly he feels that my leadership of the Guard on that patrol was inadequate." Galharth says with a shrug of his shoulders. "For some odd reason, he couldn't quite understand that Tailors do not lead Patrols."

Turning his gaze towards the Warden, the clothier tilts his head. "You?" he laughs softly. "It is a struggle for you to sit up. At least if I had a cane, I could indeed manage to walk. Poorly, but certainly on my feet." Glancing to the ladies, he smiles. "We're a mess, and stubbornly not liking our situation I fear."

Amazulie shifts uneasily, feeling a slight tension in the air. Perhaps it was just perceived, but she definitely felt something there. Her gaze went back to the wounded, listening to their tales. "Going alone is always a foolish notion whether you are injured or not." she says quiely, a bit of concern etching her features.

"Thorhur blames you?" Lostiriel shakes her head, a frown on her lips. "Why is there blame at all?" She glances at Maglind for a moment, catching his momentary gaze, and says softly, "In fact, I hope you did not take offense to our previous discussion." There is confusion in her eyes, and she turns them back to Galharth. "But as I told him, I can see little to be gained from another rescue attempt. I blame no one for what happened in our last endeavor, but to try again... It seems foolish. I hope you do not take offense to that, either, Galharth, but I care about all of you. I do not want to see any further injury to you."

"Alas," says Maglind, chuckling softly at himself. "As for me, I do not want to see that face again. Wood can be replaced, Galharth. Limbs cannot." And a handful of torn rose-petals spills from his fingers.

"I can't argue it as foolish, but so too is a Sentinel verbally thrashing a crafter for poor planning when it is not my place to lead the Guard." Shaking his head, he nods towards the Warden, "And the Warden here, was it his fault we were set upon? Nay. Blame should indeed be issued. Maglind chose the patrol well, and we all survived. So blame? Blame him for our recovery."

Glancing to Lostiriel, the Clothier sighs. "The catapult keeps the Uruk patrols coming. As long as it sits, they're drawn to it and they might indeed learn too much of our wood and our borders.. It's removal or if need be, its destruction, will leave them with the impression that we're gone, and with it, hopefully they will as well." Nodding to Maglind, he offers a glance of sympathy. "We've faced Grot too often. Of that I can not disagree."

As more of the discusion evolves, more pieces to a geater puzzle presents itself. A brow raises slightly in curiosity. "Rescue attempt?" It was obvious this elf knew very little of what had happened. "May I ask what has happened that would require rescue atempts and the injury to fellows as esteemed as yourselves? I have heard only rumors, but one knows to take very little stock in rumor."

Wending his way from the Path of Solitude, Aeglirhaeron keeps his gaze upward at the stars. He turns left, right, feet remaining on the path in a wish-wash fashion. In this manner he treads toward a rose bush, and just before his robes offend the yellow blooms, he turns neatly on his toe and continues along, navigating the circle, until one voice penetrates his meditation. "What rumor?" he asks as he regards the speaking elf, his voice trembling through the r's.

Studying Maglind for a moment, Lostiriel answers, "You are right. Maglind did his job well." She looks again at the rose in her hand, touching the soft petals as she replies, "And perhaps you are also right about the catapult, Galharth. I wish you were wrong, but..." She trails off and falls silent, then watches Aeglirhaeron draw closer, before once more dropping her gaze.

"I am to blame for your wounds... Then we will have to try again," sighs Maglind, gaze bleak, "much as I loathe the task. Would fire-arrows be any use?" He glances to the others.

"Perhaps my friend, the arrows might work." He says to Maglind, though his attention turns with the arrival of Aeglirhaeron. Surprise comes to the Clothier's expression with the newcommers words. "Ack, what has this wood come to? Rumors abound, and tempers flare!" Galharth says as he lifts his hands to pat at the air defensively. "It is not but rumors. The facts will be told," Lowering one hand he sweeps it towards an empty spot amongst the ladies. "Join us friend, so you might hear the truth from Galharth and perhaps from Maglind as well, for we've both seen this through from begining to what we hope to be the end."

Clearing his throat, mischief flickers in his eyes, and he sweeps his gaze over all present. "It all began with a runaway elven child...." Turning to song, the Tailor's voice is husky, yet soothing....

Rhibi followed the Ranger Annaiel, and together they faced a Troll,
The beast followed them to Lothlorien, and soon he brought fear.
Haldir did go forth to drive away the troll, whilst the crafters gathered to prepare,
A weapon came forth from a carpenters hand and a clothier's design.
With purpose and intent a Warden and Tailor went forth and the Net and Catapult were put to the test....

Pausing to laugh, the Master Tailor glances to all present. "Would you like to hear more? My sister says I can't put together a song..... If you'd like I can tell it the /normal/ way."

Amazulie laughs softly. "Your song is better than any I could sing good sir. Though perhaps the normal way would be best?" She tuned her emerald gaze to the newcommer, bowing her head politely to him. "Well met, I am Amazulie."

Aeglirhaeron bows in apology at his outburst for information, and nods, aquiescing to the offer for a story. He comes within the circle, nodding to the rhythm as he finds it. When it is over, he smiles and sighs, turning to the one who greeted him and bowing. "Ah, Amazulie, well met. For everyone here, I am Aeglirhaeron." He regards her an extra moment before continuing, addressing the singer. "And I agree, it's better than I might manage on the best of days, but, assuming you're the tailor in the ... tune, you are better suited to weaving a sturdy story that might keep us warm in truth... than a song that sticks out in a *few* wrong places."

Smiling as Galharth sings the tale, she looks up when he finishes and replies, "Well met Aeglirhaeron, I am Lostiriel." Her eyes sparkle at the comment regarding Galharth's song, and she suppresses a laugh. "I thought your song quite wonderful. But I agree...perhaps an ordinary recitation would suit better." Her smile trembles on her lips and she quickly looks down, lowering her mirthful eyes.

"It is not a very heroic story," murmurs Maglind, lowering his head in a nod to Aeglirhaeron. "Tell us in prose, Galharth. But as for me ... my back pains me. I am going back to the telain -- good even, all."

The warden drops the empty rose-stem and hobbles off, holding his back gingerly.

Taking no offense, the Tailor laughs at both Amazulie's comments and Aeglirhaeron's suggestion. "It was bad, was it not? My dear sister is the Bard in the family, and I should know to keep my songs to that which I craft." Turning to Lostiriel, his laugh grows slightly louder, "My dear Courier, how tactful your comments are. Certainly you're well suited to the Royal Court." Pausing a moment he bows his head politely.

"Not heroic? I differ in that my friend!" the Tailor calls as Maglind moves away. Taking a deep breath and sighing, he looks back at those who remain. "He says that because he has in fact performed remarkably well in all that we've done together. He's just shy about admitting it."

Glancing at the new and known faces, Galharth presses his lips together as he looks to each. "Are any of you crafters? Perhaps if you were, you could help me with the tale."

Amazulie suddenly remembering something, her eyes widened just a bit. "My good lord, I will have to hear your tale another time, your question has reminded me of something..." She turns swiftly and makes her way through the roses.

Aeglirhaeron watches as Maglind and Amazulie walk off, nodding in farewell and sighing a bit. Then he quirks a brow at Galharth asking for any crafters. He looks to the others and then says, quietly at first, "I only aspire to be a crafter, but if no one else fulfills the qualifications... I hope that is sufficient?" He is about to say something more, but closes his mouth and waits patiently for a reply.

Nodding to those who depart, Lostiriel grins. "As I am a 'tactful' courier, I suppose I can not help you Galharth." She glances at Aeglirhaeron and grins, "I should be in the tale, though. I was there for part of it." For a moment, a more serious expression overtakes her features and she says, "And I think I may have revised my opinion on whether or not another attempt should be made, but perhaps I can tell you of that later, Galharth. For the moment, back to your tale." She lifts the flower and breathes in its sweet scent once more, shifting where she stands as she waits for the story to continue.

"Aspire? When the skills are here to be learned, and there are needs abound for those who might be able to craft." Peering intently at Aeglirhaeron, the Master Tailor seems to peer into the very fea of the ellon. "Tell me friend, what craft are you drawn to? What fills your heart with song and inspiration? Perhaps then you could indeed fulfill the woods needs and not just my own."

To Lostiriel, he turns and nods. "I'll get back to the tale lady, but first things first. In the end it'll benefit us all."

"Ah, but the tale!" Aeglirhaeron exclaims, a slightest tinge of red brushing his cheeks as he looks apologetically to Lostiriel, before he inclines his head and complies with the request. "I am sorry. Your words strike close, though. My love is wood. How it fits together and becomes something to set a drink on, to alight upon, to adorn, to decorate, to use and admire. Carpentry, friend."

Lostiriel nods and also turns her attention to Aeglirhaeron as he begins speaking of his love for carpentry. As he does so, she listens intently and recalls when she first spoke of her interest in the Royal Court, and also remembers first being inducted. Then, returning to the conversation, she smiles as Aeglirhaeron describes his passion.

"Carpentry eh?" Galharth says with interest. Shifting slightly he sits up slightly. Pausing he turns to stare at the point in which Maglind had just disappeared. "Certainly you should do more than Aspire, for it is of that division of the Crafters that I worked with to create the catapult, and with that design we went forth to send a Net that captured the beast that so recently attacked us."

Narrowing his eyes, he presses forth a question. "As a Master of the Guild, I would apprentice you, if your heart is true to the efforts of a Carpenter. Would it be as much?" Galharth asks. Turning towards the Courier, he winks. "The story will continue in a moment."

"I have made a working catapult. In miniature, that is." The elf is quick to explain the latter part. Then Aeglirhaeron looks at Galharth and says, "They are true. That is my wish, Master." His hand flexes slightly, the only sign of excitement, of agitation, unless one were to look in his eyes, which are now nearly silver.

"I await it eagerly," Lostiriel replies to Galharth, grinning. She then sits, having grown tired of standing, and drops the rose onto her lap. She watches as the exchange continues, noting Aeglirhaeron's eagerness.

Galharth's eyes brighten remarkably and if not for the broken leg, the crafter might in fact have jumped to his feet. "Then your wanderings this eve have been a great fortune to this wood and our people." he says as a hand slips into his robes. Pausing a moment his hand moves within a pocket and within moments he withdraws his hand. Clasped in a fist, he opens his hand as a flower opens to the sun. In the palm of his hand a wooden ring sits. The wood is finely polished, and etched with an intricate design. "I offer this to you Aeglirhaeron, and should you take it, so too do you take the title of Apprentice Carpenter of the Gwaith-I-Thein." Chuckling softly, he tilts his head. "There would be much for you to do, my friend, for your first task would be a cane for me so that I might get around a bit better than I do now." With that said, he extends his hand to offer the wooden ring.

His eyes widen, and Aeglirhaeron takes the ring from the other's hand, running a thumb over the design as if feeling its every line. Then he slips it on his left middle finger. "Thank you," he says, "I will have your cane for you soon. I am ready to do much." He glances up at the stars, then down toward the sitting Lostiriel, and then says, "May this apprentice request, for all in the present audience, that the story continue?"

Smiling, Lostiriel watches as the ring is offered and accepted. "I am happy for you Aeglirhaeron. And for you, too, Galharth. I know you have been wanting that cane." She laughs softly and then replies, "And if you are ready Galharth, continue with the story."

Leaning towards the new crafter, Galharth smiles and whispers, "Hurry with the cane if you will."

Sitting back, the clothier clasps his hands together. "Now, to the tale....." Settling back into his pillows, he glances to those present and smiles. "The catapult was tested, and low and behold, a troll which walks in daylight was captured. It shocked us remarkably and took not only Maglind and I a moment to absorb the surprise, it took the Marchwarden Haldir time as well." Pausing for a breath, he shivers slightly. "Had we moved sooner, perhaps we'd have killed it, but alas that was not to be. The beast escaped after a time and was quick to send me flying into a tree. Moments after that he injured the poor Warden and the Marchwarden was left to deal with the mess. Thankfully Haldir send it fleeing."

Again he takes a breath and his eyes seem to drift towards closure. "The catapult and remains of the net were left, in favor of getting the injured home...... the return to regain the catapult is another tale...." His head bounces slightly as weariness takes hold. "Can we meet again another day...."he whispers softly.

Standing, Lostiriel smiles upon Aeglirhaeron and Galharth. "Indeed, another day." And so saying, she turns and walks slowly away.

Aeglirhaeron sits down as the story begins again, and he listens. When he hears of the catapult being left behind, he shakes his head. "You did the right thing, I think. But still, to leave such equipment out in the open is... lamentable. They aren't easy to make, from what I know. And to not be in our service..." He shudders, acknowledging Lostiriel's leave with a wave.

"What remains is only part, for one trip has already been made with partial sucess." Yawning deeply, the healing ellon snuggles deeply into his pillows as his eyes peer at the Apprentice crafter with a smile. "Admittedly, we've been somewhat delayed with the discovery of the ship sunken off the shore of the Anduin, but it's not forgotten. Certainly too valuable a tool."

Lifting a hand, Galharth weakly sweeps the air. "Now go on, hunt out the Crafters halls and report to the Carpenters. You'll have a few things to do to get your tools and clothing. Return when you're done and we'll talk some more." With that the Clothier closes his eyes and seemingly drifts off to sleep.

Aeglirhaeron nods and stands up, giving a quick scour of his robes with his hands. "I will do all that." Then he leaves quietly and briskly, heading most of the way wrong before he turns around and continues as if he meant for that to happen.