================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Afternoon < About 5:51 PM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 9 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Waxing 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 16 06:57:18 2007
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Calendar help: +ELF TIME HELP Quenya version: +ELF TIME QUENYA
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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. Reaching out to the
bright sun, the flowers are open in full bloom.
Contents:
Galharth
Mithsul
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The golden sunlight fades subtly, ever growing dimmer as the afternoon wears on
in the Protected Realm. Though the breeze might be more chilled during this
season, it is barely noticable, if at all. For this reason the roses are still
in bloom here in the garden, and to the west the herb gardens still yield their
mending leaves. The scents of the mingling flowers drift lazily upon the air,
perfuming it sweetly. Attendants walk amongst the herbs in the distance, even as
they trod regularly from the healing talan above to the grounds below. The low
murmurings of edhel can be heard through out the fragrant garden.
A sentinal passes close by the healing talan, his green gaze hooded and guarded
as he passes. He does not move far though, and his posture is almost of one
waiting for something, or someone. His appearance is more kept then of late, his
mobility restored allowed for more care put into it. Black curls are once more
fought into a submissive braid that dangles carelessly over one shoulder.
Stopping, his fingers gently brush against one rose petal, causing a slight
smile to lift before he once more turns to gaze about the gardens.
Sitting among the roses, with his right leg propped up, the Clothier Galharth
works a delicate string and a slender hook with his hands. With a remarkable
swiftness in appearance, a frilly lace hangs from the point of his fingers. The
ellon's lips move gently as if singing sweetly to the lace, and his eye hang
hooded in concentration. A bee buzzes by and lands upon his nose, momentarily
distracting the crafter from his task. "Shoo, be gone with you." he mutters
sloftly as a hand withdraws from the work to chase away the insect.
As the clothier looks up, he spies the Sentinel. "Well met, Mithsul," he calls
out from his resting place. "How goes your healing?"
At the tailor's words Mithsul glances his way, hesitates but for a brief moment
before moving towards the clothier. He stops a mere few feet from Galharth, with
in easy talking distance before slowly lowering himself to the ground. The
Sentinel's movements were still a bit slow and awkward but no painful sounds or
even grimaces cross his sharply shaped features. "It goes well Clothier. Since
being released from the talan I am still on restricted duties. Meaning I might
hope to get sent to carry a message a short distance but little else." His tones
were far from being hostile or rude, though they were by no means warm either.
Instead hesitancy seems to prevail upon his vocal chords, his words light but
deliberate. "Yours seem to be coming along as well if the healers allow you to
move from the talan above to the grounds below. Has there been any word when you
will be well enough to be released?"
"T'is frustrating, I imagine." Galharth mutters as he slips in a few lacy
stitches. "At least it is for me." Pausing the work, the clothier settles the
lace, hook, and his hands onto his lap. Lifting his head he offers the Sentinel
his full attention. "No longer than three weeks, and sooner still if I can
manage a means to move around. I have a Carpenter working on a cane for me as we
speak." Chuckling softly and reaching for his leg to scratch the snowy white
bandate, he adds, "I'll not be setting any racing records, but at least I'll be
able to move around moreso than I can no."
Tilting his head he eyes Mithsul carefully. "And you?" he asks, "Any word on
when you'll be released to full duty?"
Mithsul folds his long fingers in his lap, his legs curled into a criss-crossed
position. One might think that he was simply a casual conversant were it not for
the stiff backed way the edhel was holding his posture, the shoulders squared
off. Though this could also be simply the way his injuries force him to carry
himself for the moment. "Twill be a good day for the wood when you are mobile
again Galharth..." Mithsul spoke with sincerity at this, even if the voice
inflections did not re-inforce them. "I am sure that there are apprentice
tailors awaiting the day you are better to finish their instructions. As for
myself, when I can demonstrate that I can easily pull the bowstring taunt once
more, without any hesitancy or pain, then I will be allowed back upon the patrol
rotations." The sentinel says this casually however his gaze steals to the
north, a slight look of impatience bleeds across his expression before it is
stamped out.
Abruptly the Aderthad turns back to the Tailor, his fingers still folded in his
lap, and it must be obvious he is trying to temper his words and tones as he
says, "But I am not here to speak of formalities and polite conversation. I am
sure you are well aware that I have waited to speak with you, I came to enquire
if your healing has came far enough to where we can....discuss matters."
A sigh releases from the clothier's lips. "I need not be fully healed to
complete my own duties." Lifting the lacework up he nods towards it. "Alas, mine
is much unlike your own duties. I may train hard and hold a reasonable skill
with my sword now, in time you'll far surpass my skills, strength, and
experience, due to frequency of use." The corner of his mouth rises slightly,
"This is how it should be, eh?"
Tilting his head, the small smile that had appeared fades. "My mouth's not
injured, so please... if you've a matter on your mind, speak it else it'll
fester and grow."
A deep even breath is taken, his fingers uncurling to brush back the thick braid
hanging over his shoulder. Settling his gaze squarely upon the Tailor, for the
first time during this discussion, Mithsul appraises Galharth for a long moment
before he speaks. "First, I must apologize for my behavior during the time the
Healer Mia was tending to the injured. Harsh words are never conductive toward
healing and I should have picked a better venue and time to speak with you.
Blame it on my inexperiance in tempering myself, or on the roots and teas the
attendants were plying us with. Either way I should have held my tongue for a
more appropriate time." That being said seems to loosen the guard member some
little bit, though his shoulders and posture was not relaxed his expression
loses some of its pinched look.
"However inappropriate the time and place was I wanted to clear up ...some
misconception about my motives that night." Hesitating, the Aderthad plucks a
single blade of grass, twining it around his fingers over and over again. "I
know that you have more experiance fighting..trolls and other fell creatures
then I do Galharth. I know that even though you are not apart of the Order does
not negate any skill that you have recieved. For is it not true we would be
hardpressed to find a citizen of our beloved wood that would not take up some
sort of weapon in her defense." The blade of grass is wrapped around his
forfinger to the very ends before Mithsul starts untwining it, only to again
begin twining it back around the same finger. He falls silent for the time
being, thoughtful expressions play across his face.
"No apology is needed. Neither of us felt well, and when pressed to speak whilst
in pain the words are often times as strained as the body. Beyond that moment,
you've conducted yourself with honor as I would expect of a Guard." Galharth
says, speaking with a firm sincerity.
With that said, the Tailor falls silent, listening to the Sentinel's words. "I
fear I do not understand." He finally says with furrowed brow and a slight
frown. "Motives? I'm often times called a fool by those who hold greater skill.
And..." he says, pausing to laugh at himself, "......they're quite right. Good
intentions do not always compare to abilities. I've lost count of the things
I've done and come to regret in hindsight."
Laughing once more, he tilts his head and eyes the Sentinel. "Perhaps the same
can be said of you. No skill to speak of past the basics with the bow, and you
stood willingly before a Troll. It was my turn at that moment to point out the
foolish behavior, as has been done for me many times past. In time, it will be
your turn." Smiling, he lowers his head to sneak in a few stitches into the
lace.
A rueful smile flits across Mithsul's lips, sheepishness perhaps as well.
"Indeed I was mistaken in the notion that I would be able to out run, or out
manuever said beast. However, I wanted to make it clear that at the time I was
not attempting to take in on alone, nor was I in any way implying that you nor
the courageous courier were in any way less then myself or my fellow gaurdsmen
that were there." Finally dropping the now limp blade of grass, Mithsul takes on
the appearance of someone lost in their own memory. Dark clouds seem to form
within the clear gaze of the sentinel as he continues speaking of that past
event. "Indeed it was only out of duty to protect the citizens that were with
us, you and Lostiriel, in any fashion, believing that we could distract it
enough for the edhill to get back to saftey and still be able to get ourselves
out of the bind was folly." Grimacing slightly, as if a slightly bad taste
lingers upon his tongue Mithsul finishes with simple words. "If you had of ran,
it is of no doubt that Thorhur, and myself, probably even the Warden would not
have been able to cause such a scene in the Hospital."
"Ah," the clothier says simply. "Perhaps the call to run was misunderstood
then." His face lightens into a smile that reaches up into his eyes. "The beast
has a flaw, that could have kept it distracted well and good. You see...." he
says pausing a moment to lean forward slightly. "....it likes to talk. Give him
a conversation and it holds his axe long enough to keep us out of range."
Looking down to his leg he shrugs. "I was actually injured worse last time I
encountered him, so overall, improvement already shows."
"Run? Nay, since hearing the stories told by the Rangers Henleg and Annaiel, I'd
not run. I'll not leave another to protect me if I can possibly stand with
someone to help." His smile fades and he peers closely at the Sentinel. "Be wary
of suggesting that for some take great offense to it."
Standing, the Sentinel brushes bits of grass or dirt that may cling to his
backside. "So I have learned Tailor." He says in response to Galharth's last
words. "I trust that things between the two of us are cleared up then Galharth?"
His voice has returned to its normal lightness, almost boyish tones.
"Indeed they are Mithsul," Galharth agree's with a nod. Pausing to glance
towards the Healing Talan, he chuckles softly. "The Attendants are due to come
change the bandage on my leg, so unless you'd like to gain their attentions, I'd
find the path from the garden quickly."
"I think I will take your advice Galharth." Turning toward the garden paths,
Mithsul lifts his hand in a gesture of farewell, the arm not raising too high
nor too far forward. He hurries as much as his stiff body will allow, clearly he
has healed quite a bit but is not to full capacity.