================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Twilight < About 8:15 PM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 28 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Waning Crescent <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 22 07:45:17 2007
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Royal Court Mallorn
A large mallorn dominates the line of trees guarding the western edge of the lawn. At its base, the white path from the east turns northeastward, leading eventually to the foot of an even greater mallorn in the distance. A white ladder leads up into the boughs here beside a nameplate that reads "<Sindarin> The Royal Court".

Contents:
Tauriel
Thorhur
Calsir
Alphdirwen
Maglind
Ostiel
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Twilight falls over the Golden Wood, its purple hues deepening in the shadows of the tall Mellryn that make up the forest. The night birds are not quite out and about this evening, and the day time birds have settled in to their nests for the night. This leaves all the wood quiet, except with the noises from edhill life as well as the soft breeze that rustles the golden leaves. Here at the Royal Court Mallorn a few couriers pass through on their way perhaps on errands or simply to go home.

Calsir herself is walking towards the tree rather then away, her green skirts fluttering in her wake. Her steps are smooth and even, gliding more then walking it seems as her keen blue eyes seem focused, not really noticing her surroundings for once. A soft smile plays upon her mein, and a gentle hum emits from her throat. A happy melody is it, and if one was observant the rhythm of her steps coincide with the beat of the tune.

Wandering the highest point of the city, the elleth Alphdirwen hums softly while she walks. Long fingers, reach out to caress the foliage of flowers and shrubs. "Such peaceful beauty," she comments aloud in a voice that is much like a sweetly sung song. Turning to the swish of cloth, her gentle face rises into a smile. "Well met, Calsir...." she sings out as she turns fully to the Scholar. Sweeping her hand up and outwards, she laughs as her eyes follow the movement of her hand. "Is not twilight magical?" she asks, bringing her gaze full circle, ending as she peers once more towards Calsir.

Whistling softly, Thorhur is heading towards the Royal Court, not meaning to stop there. He pulls his cloak closer around him and walks slowly, a change from his usual brisk pace. His eyes search the area curiously, and they eventually come to land on the two elleth slightly ahead of him. "Hello elleth," he says in a casual tone, pausing near them. "Is it business that brings you here to the Royal Court, or merely chance?"

As one approches the Mellryn, they may be surprised to see the young elleth relaxing comfertably at its base. Cape drawn around her, only her head and dirty bare feet are visable. Motionless, the elleth wears a pleasent smile as she watches the wood turn to night. She offers no reaction to the sounds of converstation near.

The Dancer stops, her eyes drawn away from her goal toward the voices of two other greeting her. Her smile does not slip, rather they widen and warmth floods the elleth's expression as she greets to two other her guild members. "Twilight is indeed a beautiful time, and some can argue it is teh most magical. A time between the end of something and the beginning of another." Calsir's arms sweep to encompass the lawn that stretches behind them. "Yet I prefer the dawn, the birth of a new day and a renewal of the forest itself. Dawn in itself is a mini-spring." A laugh is allowed to flow past her rosy lips as she turns to address the ellon so newly inducted into the Glirdain. "And a good evening to you Thorhur. I trust you have not had too many difficulties finding someone to give you a lesson in a language. I suggest Eothrik, a pretty enough language..one rich in history." Recognition dawns in the elleth's face as her gaze falls upon the encloaked elleth sitting beside her tree. A friendly nod is sent toward her as she turns her attention back to the other two.

Turning to the sound of a voice, sending her skirt up in a swirl as she moves, the smile that seems ever present upon Alphdirwen's face turns towards Thorhur. "Well met, and I say nay, I've no business." Turning again so to face the tree, the Bard catches sight of another, "And to you, mellon," she sings out as she takes a few steps towards the sitting elleth. "Well met!"

Looking around her, she pauses to close her eyes as she seems to soak in the ambiance around her. "Sweet and filled with anticipation ..... life among those dwelling in court ..... both danger and challenge, they manage much....." she sings, drawing forth an almost hypnotic tone to her voice, ending the short song with a small laugh. Falling silent and still, she opens her eyes as Calsir speaks. With a nod of her head for what was said, she steps back joins Tauriel near the tree.

"Alas, I have not found a teacher yet who had enough time, but I hope to find one soon," Thorhur replies to Calsir. "Eothrik, I will keep that in mind." As an afterthought, he adds in a quieter voice, "Bethteur is also a nice language, though only known to the Silvans." Turning to Alphdirwen, he nods, then turns to the elleth under the tree. Nodding in greeting he sits in the grass and stares at the sky. "Dusk is my favorite part of the day," he says in a soft tone. "It proclaims the coming of the night and the end another day. All is quiet then."

The young elleth rests her head back on the tree behind with an audible sigh. She appears quite relaxed and moves very little, only her breathing raising and lowering the cape surrounding. Her brown eyes dart to Alphdirwen at her greeting. "Aye.. " she says with a warm smile, her arm pushing out from behind her clothing. "Would one you like? Picked fresh.." she says softly, Edible red fungus held in hand.

"Ah not only known to Silvan edhill. Many Sindarin within the Glirdain, and truly some without, have learned that language. I agree it is very pretty, and has a history all its own." Turning Calsir listens, a gentle relaxation slips over her features as the other sings, her golden hair falling forward as she dips her head in regard to Alphdirwen. "Even such a short song, is a work of beauty Mellon. The couriers I am sure approve. I hope to catch one before they all go about their way." A sparkling light fills the blue eyes of Calsir as she turns toward Tauriel and Alphdirwen fully. "Who better to spread the word of an impending Festival then a courier."

Alphdirwen giggles softly and leans towards Tauriel. "I'm never quiet, so I am surely not a creature of twilight." Pausing to look upon the fungus, the bard lifts a brow. "Did you make this yourself?" she asks curiously as her eyes flicker over the treat offered. "I'm not hungry now, but I thank you still for the offer." Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply. "Pickled and tart, though delightlful to the senses...." she mutters in her sing-song voice.

As Calsir comments upon her song, the elleth giggles once more. "I will surely tell my brother and perhaps sing it for him," she says with mingling giggles, "Though Courier no more, he's sure to agree to a favor asked, should you wish him to go forth with your messages."

"Oh, is Aderthad having a festival?" Thorhur inquires in a semi-curious tone. "That should be fun, as all festivals are. Well, there may have been one or two bad ones, but that cannot be helped." Thorhur says this with a grin. "Anyway, so what is the message that needs to be delivered, if you don't mind my asking?"

Tauriel withdraws the red fungus from Alphdirwen holds it at her lap. "Picked it this morning, I did. At the bakery, I dropped off and prepaired it was today." she says softly, still smiling warmly. "With me, sit?" young elleth asks as she flicks a wild patch of hair behind her left earstump.

"Indeed, it is time to get the word out so that the citizens may begin their preparations. I do need to speak with Galharth, I will need his services as a Master in his guild. There will be a crafting fair, where edhil may enter things that they have made, there will be a poetry reading, and a skill of Arms contest." Speaking Calsir's face brightens, and her words came faster as an excited furor creeps over her demeanor. "There is quite a bit to do, decorations to secure, plenty of food for the feast where the awards will be awarded."

Her gaze rests upon Tauriel, and upon the bit of food the elleth holds in her lap. Thoughtfully, though still excitement reigns supreme upon her mein she slips closer to the elleth sitting beside a tree. " Perhaps you can recommned a few appetizers that the citizens in the wood might enjoy during the games." Calsir turns and stares across the city, a deep inhalation is given before she speaks again. "Yes, it is Aderthad's turn to host this year's festival."

"Ah, eating, my favorite part of any festival," Thorhur says, his mind wandering. "If you need assistance with anything, I am here to offer help, though I do not belong to Aderthad." Sitting in the grass, Thorhur fingers a loose thread on his cloak, humming again.

"A festival? How delightful!" the Bard exclaims as she pauses to glance towards the Scholar and the Learner. "Galharth should be here soon, he's promised me a new gown this eve. Turning back towards the seated elleth, her smile remains though it changes slightly as if thinking a fond memory. "Ah, I love the bakery. It's always filled with such delightful scents that it bring forth the sweetest of songs," the Bard says as she turns full circle to send her skirt outwards. At the point in which the skirt is at full swirl, Alphdirwen sits in the middle of the blossoming fabric. As she sits and begins to smooth out the folds of her skirt, she glances towards Tauriel and tilts her head with curiosity. "What happened with your ear?" She asks with a sweet voice of innocence and wonder.

The young elleth's attention is solely on Alphdirwen. Her eyes follow her as she comes closer. "Old injury it is." she softly, her cheeks blushing. "Into the range as a child I ran. If sooner entered I did... ZHOOOOOP!". Tuariel's index finger presses to her forhead with the last 'word'. "Lucky I was, to have lost my ear only. Still it hears.." she says with a slight hint of embarrassment to the subject. Looking on Alphdirwen warmly, Tauriel takes a bite of her fungus. There is an audible crunch. Over her shoulder Calsir becomes visable. "I'I'I... On it shall think.. For myself, I pick the red fungus usually.."

Toward Thorhur a chuckle is given, "This festival is for the wood itself. A celebration in a time when celebrations seem few and far between." A darkness slips over the elleth's mein breifly, so fast that if one was not looking one would not even know it had been there. "It is just Aderthad's turn to organize it this year." That said Calsir turns toward the two ellith once more. "Oh? If Galharth comes soon I will accomplish two errands at once. How very efficient." A twinkle of the eye and a chest-heaving chuckle is issued at her own somewhat inept wit. "Red-fungus is nice, I hope to have an array of food. Which means I must soon speak to the bakers and chefs. So much to do, but I enjoy it so."

"Ah, well, all this talk of food has made me hungry," Thorhur says, standing. "So, this will be farwell, I am afraid. Until our next meeting." Waving, Thorhur smiles and walk away from the Royal Court.

"Oh you poor dear," whispers the Bard. Her voice still hinting of song, and yet filled with compassion, her smile remains, "What a fright that must have been, and yet how lucky you are as it brings character to your lovely features."

Turning back to listen to the Scholar and the Learner, she tilts her head with curiosity. "Crafts, contests, poetry, food, and I do hope song will join the list of activities." Alphdirwen says with a laughs, "For I'd hate for the sweet ballads sung about our brave would be absent from such a meeting."

Tauriel smiles at the complement, her finger caresses the old wound. "Thank you. Not so bad I hope it looks. Alot worse it seemed when fresh." she says softly, looking to the pair that Alphdirwen turn her attention to.

Murmuring similar words of sympathy for the younger elleth's misfortunes, Calsir checks her own excitement for the time being. "I agree that it adds a dimension, an allure." Her own voice warm. Though Tauriel's seeming discomfort at the subject causes her to turn back to the other subject at hand. "What is song but poetry set to a pleasing tune. Of course there will be much singing and merriment. Dancing as well, can not have a festival without dancing." A mirthful grin escapes the Scholar's composure as she begins obviously planning something within her own mind. It is not long before she utters this plan, "Though I suppose I will be scheduling Dance lessons shortly."

Scrunching her nose slightly in a rare foul expression, the Bard shakes her head. "While song might be poetry, I see them different as one breathes forth life through song, and the other is dryly recited." Sweeping her hand over her skirt, she laughs, "While I cherish song, I detest poetry. It makes little sense, but then both my husband and my brother both agree that there is little sense when it comes to me."

Turning towards Tauriel, he lifts a hand to her mouth and leans towards the elleth. "Fear not if something causes distraction, in fact you should rejoice if you're able to do so without effort. Many a soul strives for such and never manage to suceed."

Tauriel smiles warmly at Alphdirwen's words and takes another bite of her red fungus. "Such nice words you say.." she comments softly, her head shifting against the tree. "Tauriel I'am... Before we may have met, But in many years not."

A tune winds around the bole of the tree, neither giving thought to words nor dryly recited. A humming ellon appears on the white stone path, humming without words and without direction. By the clashing of his scarlet cloak and green tunic, it must be Maglind.

Seeing a courier coming from the Mallorn, one who did not look especially busy, Calsir hurriedly excused herself from the twain. With quickened steps she speaks a greeting "Good evening Mellon.." Then lapses into a quieter voice as she speaks with said edhel.

An even tapping sound is heard, announcing the coming of someone up the marble stairs. The pace is slow and even, and when the clothier appears at the top of the stairs, he pauses to take a break from his efforts. Glancing round, a smile forms on his lips when he catches sight of Alphdirwen, "Ah dear sister! Finally..." Taking a deep breath the Tailor sets forward with his cane, and as the wooden staff strikes the ground the tap turns to a soft plunk. Under his arm, he carries a nicely wrapped package which he holds forth as he approaches the sitting bard. "Done and in your hands dear sister, just as you demanded." Galharth offers a wink and turns to search for a bench. "It seems those of the Royal Court sit upon the ground or do not sit at all." he mutters with a frown as Calsir excuses herself. Looking around once more, he catchs sight of Maglind. "Well met Maglind!" he calls out.

A soft laugh is the response Tauriel gets, and the Bard nods her head. "I think we all know eachother in some way or another, but still... " she says sweetly, "I should never chatter before at least giving my name." Pausing to sweep her hair over her shoulder she turns at the sound of tapping. "I'm Alphdirwen, sister to Galharth...." she says sweeping a hand to the stairs, "And that sound you hear is not a woodpecker, but my dear brother and his best friend... his cane."

Watching Galharth enter the area at the base of the tree, Alphdirwen smiles and reaches out to accept the package from her brother. "Why thank you," she says with a wink of her own, "You almost met with my expectations, dear brother."

Tauriel quietly watches the interaction between Galharth and his sister. "Hello Galharth.." she says lightly, as the ellon gives away the package.

The humming stops. "Good even," greets Maglind, waving to those gathered. He grins merrily. "It must be true, Galharth. The Royal Court is so busy it cannot bear to sit down."

"I shall never meet your expectations. It isn't possible Alphdirwen," Galharth chuckles warmly. Turning to Tauriel, he bows his head to acknowledge the elleth. "Well met, and good eve, Tauriel. T'is good to see you once more."

To Maglind, a friendly grin is offered, and the Tailor shakes his head. "Busy indeed, and I'd be the last to spoil that rumor, but I might if they don't set out a few benches for those who seek an occasional rest." Shifting his weight upon his cane, he eyes the Warden carefully, "What brings you here, Maglind? Certainly you're not considering a career enhancement, are you?"

The young elleth once again returns her attention to Alphdirwen, her head leans back against the tree. "Alphdirwen, questions may I ask you.." she says softly, unwrapping herself from her cape..

Calsir finishes her conversation, the courier scurrying away, and returns toward the group gathered. Hearing Galharth's words about benches she replies easily, "Perhaps you might set a carpenter, or even a sculptor of Marble, to craft a few benches for this area. Indeed it seems a popular place to gather and watch the scenery." Lending truth to her words, Calsir's gaze turns toward the expansive view before she continues toward the Tailor. "But for now, if you wish to sit I can offer assistance." Turning toward Maglind she offers a smile and a query, "What song was that you were humming? It does not sound familiar to me, perhaps it is a song I have yet to have the pleasure to hear?"

Still chuckling at her brother, Alphdirwen turns towards Tauriel, "Certainly, ask away." Shifting the package to sit upon her lap, she peers expectantly at the elleth, "If I can answer, I will."

"No, not really," chuckles Maglind, shaking his head vigorously. "I was ... wandering. I wanted to see the stars come from the point closest to the sky."

Turning to Calsir: "No, it was not a song. It was an excerpt from a harp-tune I heard recently. I am not a Bard, but I may pretend to be one."

Tauriel 's head tilts thoughtfully and her arms cross. "On the subject of the trolls and unretrieved catapult. Privy to such knowledge are you?" she asks softly, her expression one of genuine intrest.. "Warden Maglind, will not speak with me on the matter.." she adds softer, not wanting the ellon to hear..

"I've heard it told that the Lady's bed chambers is the closest one can come to the sky." Galharth says laughing, "Perhaps you can join Mia and I on our next outing of mischief so you might see for yourself."

Turning to glance at Calsir, a brow lifts. "Even better, a stone mason! Regardless, benches are needed, or at least from my narrow sights they are. Nodding, he moves slightly closer to his sister. "Indeed, any help I can get would be gladly received." Pausing to peer at Alphdirwen he eyes her with mock anger, "especially since some I hold dear didn't bother to see to my needs." Reaching out his free hand towards the Scholar, he glances to Maglind. "I wouldn't mind your help as well. My leg is rather tender this day."

"Alas such things are ill suited to song, and I find little interest even when Galharth tries to bore me with such things." Alphdirwen says in a low whisper towards Tauriel, "Perhaps it is best if you ask him yourself, as both he and Maglind were present." Turning to Galharth she giggles. "You'd hate my help and you know it, so I do not offer."

Pausing to rise to her feet, the bard glances to each present. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a new dress to try on, and I can hardly contain the excitement." Bowing her head and offering a smile, the delicate lass sweeps away from the group as if gliding over the ground towards the stairs, where she disappears.

Calsir moves swiftly, though the quickness of step does not hinder the gliding grace that this elleth posesses, meeting Galharth's hand with her own she raises her other to attempt to brace the Tailor's wieght beneath his shoulder. Waiting for the Warden's response she holds her position as she speaks. "It is fortunate that I ran across your sister this evening, she told me you would be by here. There is a small request that I would ask of you. Surely one that will not tax you physically.'

She turns to Maglind, a light smile merrily spreading her lips. "Surely the Glirdain does not hold the monopoly on song and music. We just help, refine it. One does not have to be a Student of song to enjoy participating in activities amongst those of us who spend our days engrossed within it."

Maglind twitches his nose, mock-scandalized. "I would rather a bird bear me to the sky on its wings." He moves to Galharth's other shoulder, holding out a thin arm. "Surely not, Calsir. It must be song that gives joy to us all."

"Maglind, you are no fun at times, but I'd not have another I trust so much." Galharth says as his sisters words sink in. Confusion flickers over the clothier's expression. "Ask me what?" the Tailor asks Tauriel as his sister departs. With the help of the Scholar, he settles onto the grass and stretches an obviously aching leg before him. To both Tauriel and Calsir's unspoken words, he glances to them both, "I'll help if I can," he offers.

With an audible crunch Tauriel takes another bite of her red fungus, her eyes following Alphdirwen as the elleth darts away. With a puzzled expression she slowly crunches on the treat and leans back against the tree. Brow furrowed, her head tilts as she thinks on the situation. 'Why will no-one speak with me on this, Maglind reacted the same as Alphdirwen' she puzzles.. Another bite, another loud crunch, and Tauriel becomes lost in deep thought. So much so, she does not seem to notice Galharth's offer.

After the Tailor is safely on the ground, Calsir moves but a few feet away to give him his own space before she sank to the ground as well. Her green skirts pool around her figure as she clasps her hands lightly in her lap. "Indeed, what I seek is two fold. First, there is the festival coming up, and I am helping in organizing it. There is to be a craft fair, where all edhel will be invited to enter in small projects. I would like it if you could perhaps let those of your guild know about this fair so that they will be able to better prepare something if they so wish? My second part is, I need someone who is knowledgable on the creation of things. Someone who can judge this year's event unbiased and fairly. I would ask you but that would mean you would not be able to participate in the actual fair itself." Blue eyes turn toward the tailor, brows quirking above them. "However, if you do decide to judge the event there is many more available. Poetry competition, your sister is of the opinion that poetry and song are wildly different. Though for competition purposes, one can deliver said poem in any fashion one wishes."

"I do have fun," insists Maglind, crossing his arms. "This festival sounds interesting. Expand? I have never heard of it before."

A questioning glance is lent Tauriel, but the warden does not disturb her thoughts.

"I need not have my projects judged, in fact I don't know if I'd have time to make something beyond my own projects. I'd be glad to judge the submissions." Galharth agrees with a nod. "Just let me know the particulars, and those within my Guild will be kept informed so to help you as best they can." Grinning softly he lets Calsir's revelations of his sister's thoughts go past with no words. "I'm sure any and all will offer what assistance they can so to have an enjoyable event."

Glancing back to Tauriel, he lifts a brow and leans towards her. "Tauriel? Do you have a question, or are you in need of something. I'm here now and you have my attention."

Head shifting thoughtully again, Tauriel takes another bite of red fungus. Chewing the crunchy treat is always loud and distracting. Mouth still full she looks up to Galharth and nods. "Very good Galharth.." she squeeks out, not another word is spoken till the food is swallowed completely. Her eyes calmly on Galharth though the entire diration. Suddenly her head tilts thoughtfully, as she bushes some crumbs from her gown.. "A touchy subject it seems to be, the matter of the catapult and the trolls. My thoughts are rather taken on this subject however. If a bother it is not, may it we discuss. Till now, only rumor has satiated my curiosity.."

Securing Galharth's promise Calsir flashes a grin as she rises. "My thanks mellon, I am sure that all will enjoy this year's events." Brushing off imagined debris, she turns toward the stairs. "Alas I must depart, many things still need ironing out. I bid you all good night." With that said the light hearted Dancer starts toward the stairs, her skirts and golden hair swaying gently.

"Ah...." Galharth comments once Tauriel speaks. "Indeed it is touchy, for there are many good folk who've been injured in the catapults testing and the subsuquent attempts to retrieve it." Turning to Maglind he lifts his brows, "Isn't that right Warden? Of all within the wood, you've seen injury in the numbers equal to my own from the Troll and the attempts to retrieve the device."

Glancing back towards the lady, his brows smooth and he tilts his head. "What would you like to know?"

"Good night, Calsir," calls Maglind after the bard. Then, cloak rustling softly, he sits, sprawled on the path, silent and curiously listening to the tailor. Here a nod is given, there a grunt in reply.

At Maglinds words to the Scholar, he turns and lifts a hand. "Good night," the Tailor calls out, joining his own words with that of the Wardens.

Tauriel eyes dart to the warden but quickly re-focus on Galharth. Arms crossing, she rubs her chin thoughtully. "This catapult, attracted to it the trolls are. Or so I've heard. If truth this is, why would that be." she asks quickly, obviusly this thought vexing her greatly..

"It loves Galharth's woodworking," whispers Maglind, offering Tauriel a stealthy smile. "Perhaps it is the aroma of Elf. Or they know we will return, and lie in wait. Either way, it makes much trouble for the borders."

"I'm not sure if the catapult alone holds the interest of the Troll and that of the Uruk that linger near. We've had trouble with both of late." Galharth says as he reaches for his right leg to rub the ache that seems present. "We've spilled a good bit of blood over the past months, and we've learned that beasts of that calibre seem attracted to such scents."

Nodding to Maglind, he adds, "And perhaps they think we'll return for it so they lay in wait as the Warden says." Pausing, he glances carefully at the elleth, buefore he asks, "Do you have a special interest in this Tauriel?"

Tauriel looks to each of the ellons as they speak in turn. she continues to rub her chin thoughtfully and does not speak till sure they are finished. "Mighty fine is the woodwork of Galharth, to see it lost to vile trolls is a shame." she says softly, with a smile to Galharth. "Nothing of this Uruk I have heard before, hear more on him would interest me greatly.. Burn the catapult to the ground, concidered I have. Bloodshed over an artifact seems wasteful, no matter how fine, craft is not worth life. Build another we could?.."

"It is possible," replies Maglind, fingering the golden hem of his cloak. "But until the first one is gone, the orcs will continue to crowd around it. Even if we do not return for it, it will be a constant threat. What say you, Galharth?"

"Indeed the matter has been discussed by a number of folk, on a number of occasions." Galharth admits quietly while continuing to ease the ache out of his leg. "Agreeably, it's not worth the pain and suffering we've experienced, and yet we've been unable to even get close enough on our last attempt to even set it afire." Pursing his lips tightly, he considers the Warden. "Perhaps it it's just we two who venture out, we'd stand a better chance of getting past anything that might be aiming to find us. I'm willing if you are Maglind."

Turning back to the lass, he offers a wirey smile. "With suggestion of building and crafting, could you possibly be favoring a career within my guild? Or is your interest in the Troll one that sets you towards the Order?"

Tauriel 's head tilts thoughtfully once again, she slides up onto her knees to better face Maglind and Galharth "The geography of the location, the location of the catapult I mean?, tell me of.." she asks intrested, avoiding the questions of vocation.

"Gladly, Galharth," replies Maglind, crushing the dyed velvet in a fist. "Perhaps we could use fire arrows, and shoot it from afar. But such a waste..." His hand shakes, slightly, and he turns to Tauriel.

"It is in the foothills. It was snowing when we left it, and I suspect it is still buried now."

Tauriel slowly nods, her eyes darting downwards. "Entrances to the hills, how many are there?" she asks, obviously thinking over the matter deeply..

"It sits upon a hillock, east of the Boundary Stone that lays north of the border," Galharth adds to Maglind's descriptions. "The entrances? Only one that I know of. It lays along the elven path that heads north from the city. If you mean entrances available to the beasts? I know not. Perhaps the Order has a better understanding. I'm not sure if they'd entertain your interest when such information is certainly monitored by those who use such to keep us safe."

To Maglind he nods. "When word comes that the snow is gone, we'll go together. Flaming arrows just might in fact be exactly our best course."

Tauriel nods understandingly. "Flaming arrows, is wise... An idea I have for a safeguard." she says thoughtfully with a pleasing youthful smile. "If the arrows fail.. Retreat to back to entrance, foes in pursuit. Knowledge of traps, not strong with me. But, a deep pit perhaps could be dug through a portion of narrows. Assailed with arrows the suddenly halted would be.."

"It is a sound idea," muses Maglind, tilting his head to look at the stars. "But our aim is to be unseen. To dig a pit would be drawing attention to our movements. I do not know ... but it is something to consider."

Tauriel responds quickly. "Archers in the treeline perhaps.. Just outside the hills.."

"I'm curious about something, but at least I now understand something I didn't before this moment," Galharth says with a slight frown. "You've obviously considered the matter, but the same hesitation I face when offering suggestions to the Order, I now face with you." Shifting slightly, the Tailor peers curiously at the elleth. "You hold no claim to a profession, and yet you speak of geography of the land, tactics, traps, and weapontry. Items I continue to learn as I work with the Order, yet still can not claim with any expertise." Pausing to glance at Maglind, he looks back to the elleth. "Do you have some background that would offer us some confidence in your words?"

"The trees are sparse in the hills. If they were to follow and take axe to them," asks Maglind softly, "where would they go then?" Then he falls silent, meshing his hands, listening.

WOOSH! As the ellon take pause, awaiting Tauriel's answer, a leather ball the size of a fist comes flying through clearing, nearly bashing a nearby edhel in the head. It flies through the air with great intent, heading straight for the back of Maglind's head. "Take heed!"

Tauriel sits back on her heels. Eyes pausing on Galharth, she takes a moment to choose her words. "During my many walks, on this subject I've a thought a great deal." she says simply, her head tilting again. "On many issues that face Lorein, I often do. Though... No expertise I have.." she admits, eyes shifting downward. "My bounds, did I overstep?". The young elleth looks to Maglind after his statments are made. Her eyes whincing, she responds to his posed sceanario. "The forest, many ellon and elleths know better than I. If rows of archers keeped falling back. Like a frog hopping, defencive positions once fallen will relocate to another. Doubtful out of the mountians they would chase far.." She shakes her head "I'll have to think on that.... Watchout!!." she shouts finally hopping to her feet..

"Many of us have considered such things Tauriel," Galharth says softly, "And while you didn't overstep any bounds, I would recommend that you set yourself upon the path to gain some measure of authority. When one has the creative foresight, and the level of care, as you seem to have, then it's to all of our benefit to have you somewhere that others might listen when you speak."

At Ostiel's shout, Galharth becomes immediately alert and he glances about in search of the danger. His eyes grow wide upon catching sight of the ball. "Duck Maglind!" The Tailor calls out, adding his voice to that of the others.

"I think it is better to -- duck? Where?"

The little ball hits Maglind squarely between the ears, and without word his eyes widen in surprise. One hand flies up, movements wooden, and gracelessly he flops to the ground.

With hop of surprise, Tauriel reaches up and covers her mouth. Eyes on the fallen Maglind, she looks on the ellon with great worry. "Warden..." she says softly, poking him with her big toe..

Footsteps approach with great haste. "Marvelous," Ostiel whispers to herself as she rushes upon the scene, for it is indeed she, and a rather bashful, wide-eyed adolescent that follows behind her. He looks down upon Maglind's prone form with the face of one observing a murder, and appears ready to burst into tears at any moment. Ostiel is not so emotional. She kneels next to the downed ellon, carefully touching his shoulder. "Maglind. Maglind?"

Crystal Blue eyes grow wide with surprise as Maglind flops to the ground. His jaw drops slightly, and he blinks several times as the ball bounces along on the ground. The deed is done, the Warden is down. "Someone help him," he squeeks as he leans forward, unable to rise up on his own without great effort. "You're kicking him whilst he's down?" The Tailor asks Tauriel in disbelief, "Certainly healing isn't on your list of potential job choices." Muttering his last words more to himself, the clothier attempts to crawl towards his friend. "Maglind!" he calls out.

Looking to Ostiel, worry flickers in his eyes, "Is he alright? Will he be okay?"

There is no movement from the ellon, limbs splayed awkwardly on the ground, fallen facedown. But where the fine pale hair parts at the back of his head, a bloody, rather bruised bump rises.

He is out cold.

Tauriel still stands with hands covering her mouth, eyes filled with surprise at the situation that just unfolded. Taking a few steps back, she watches on helplessly.. "No no.. Galharth, Kicking I was not!" she proclaims innocently.

"He'll be fine," Ostiel states very calmly, though her eyes are troubled. She touches the hair about the red bump, shaking her head. "His head will ache for a while, though. Caelinir..." The child starts, and abruptly bursts into tears.

"I didn't mean to hit anybody..."

Ostiel sighs gently, turning momentarily from the unconcious Maglind to beckon the young boy closer. She strokes his hair. "I know, dear one. Now please fetch your ball, and then find your ada? He's practicing at the archery grounds...Tell him that he is needed, please." The tow-headed boy rushes to do as he is bid, face pink and covered with wet tracks.

"Galharth," the Cuigrithweg scolds upon looking in his direction, "Please do take your seat...it won't help him any to wound yourself further."

"Is it safe to move him? Roll him over? Anything?" Galharth mutters as he kneels over the still form of his friend. Peering back at the ball, and then to the child, the clothier's brow furrows. "Do as Ostiel says," He mutters in a restrained tone. "Go on, hurry up." Clearly he's angry, but even so, this feeling is clearly difficult for him to hold against a child.

Turning to the elleth standing nearby, his pinched expression fades slightly. "I'm sorry Tauriel, I'm not angery, just...." he pauses to peer at the wound on the back of the Warden's head. "I'm worried."

Glaring rebelliously at the Attendant, the crafter says nothing as he moves slightly to plop down on his backside. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks.

Tauriel holds out some red fungus, pulled from inside her golden sash... "A heavy smell this has.." she says softly, free hand falling to her stomach. Her free hand rubs nerviously against her clothing.

At Ostiel's touch, Maglind stirs, tears immediately popping to his eyes. One hand clenches, relaxes. "Ducks indeed," whispers the warden, in what might be a grumble if it were stronger.

The little boy looks to Ostiel, eyes wide and filling with even more tears (if that's possible) at Galharth's clipped tone, and sniffs, pausing with the ball in hand. Ostiel frowns at Galharth, disapproval shining in her grey eyes. "It's alright, Caeli...come here." The child immediately dives into her arms.

"I k-k-k-illed hi-i-m..."

"Thank you, Tauriel...but," She looks over Caelinis' shoulder down upon the Warden, a spark of wry amusement in her eyes, "It seems that he has come too on his own. Could you do me favor, though?"

Tauriel nods, returning the red fungus to her sash... "Yes.. A favor I can do.." she says softly, hands tugging nerviously at her gown. The young elleth steps foward and looks intently on Ostiel, eyes occasionaly darting on the walking maglind..

"Oh Maglind, duck not in the feathered sense, but in the sense that you should have squatted down." Galharth says as he scoots closer. Glancing to Ostiel, his eyes grow wide, "What?" he sputters out with a frown. With the little one's cry, he peers intently at the child. "He's not dead. It'll take more than a ball to his hard head to do that."

"I should have known," murmurs Maglind, rolling his eyes. "It ... hurts. What was it?" Unmoving, he stares at the blade of grass in front of him, trying to focus.

"A ball, Maglind," Ostiel replies patiently, then turns her attention to Tauriel. "Would you go to the training grounds and fetch this dear's father? His name is Belation, perhaps you know him."

"Now, Maglind," she addresses firmly, choosing to ignore Galharth, "I want you to tell me exactly what you are feeling, mellon. Your pain level, how well you can see."

Shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest, the Tailor falls silent as he watchs the Attendant take command of the situation. Cystal blue eyes flicker to Tauriel and then back to Ostiel, and then finally to Maglind. Again, Galharth shakes his head, clearly amazed at the latest turn of events.

Tauriel nods.. "Training grounds.. Right.." she says softly, eyes darting to Maglind and Galharth... "I.. I.. I'll be back soon... ". Flicking her cape behind her shoulders, she turns and darts away. Long clothing seeemingly not impeding her movements in the slightest. Her bare feet slap audibly agasnt the ground as she leaves..

"... Pounding," says Maglind haltingly, blinking once or twice. "Like a carpenter's hammer. It aches." He blinks again, moving a trembling hand in front of his eyes. "It's blurry. And there are dark spots. Am I going blind?" Fear seizes and pitches his voice.

"Not likely," Ostiel is quick to soothe, though between Galharth's distress and Caelinis' hysterical sobbing this may be a bit difficult. "you have just taken a hard knock to the head, Maglind. It is only natural that your sight is impaired. Now, Caeli..." The child whimpers, clinging tightly to Ostiel's wet-spotted dress. "Caeli, I need you to release me. Let go, dear." He doesn't seem inclined.

Seeing Ostiel's difficulties with the child, Galharth becons the child to come to him. "Caelinis, perhaps you can help me whilst Ostiel sees to Maglind. I can not stand alone as a Troll's axe fell heavily upon my leg..... Can you help me please?" Projecting forth a weak smile, he puts his cane forth so to show that his words are sincere.

Maglind breathes a sigh of relief. "That is well, then. Will you help me get up, Ostiel? I think I'll be fine." That said, he tries to rise, slipping on the smooth stone and soft grass.

"Wait a moment," Ostiel says, though not commandingly, "I've asked Tauriel to fetch someone stronger than myself." As for Caelinis, he is quite willing to redeem himself, and removes himself from Ostiel's arms, albeit with some reluctance. He wanders over to Galharth.

Reaching out a hand, the Tailor's gaze flickers from the child to Ostiel, and back again to the lad. "If you give me your hand, I'll get into position to rise. When I'm ready, I need you to pull real hard because my right leg doesn't have the strength I need to get up myself." Galharth says softly as he awaits the child to take his hand. "And thank you," he adds to Caelinis.

Belation calmly strolls into the area of the Royal Court Mallorn, Tauriel stands directly at the ellon's side. "Over there.." she instructs softly. With a crisp nod Belation squeezes the ellath's shoulder and steps toward the fallen Warden. Following slowly behind Tauriel's bare feet slap against the ground. Her green gown hugging close to her body and cape sliding against the ground. Worried hands clasp at her her golden sash. "Easy find, did so as fast as could.." she announces, with concerned expression.

"I can stand on my own," Maglind replies decisively, flailing about with his hands. Stubborn ellon, he nearly treads on his own cloak. With a helpless whimper he falls back down, one hand clutching the grass.

Long distance to Mia: Galharth laughs... about that LOL... the scent of the forges drifting into the bakery.... in the description! That was a final straw, and inspired that +mail

"Ada!" Galharth is immediately forgotten in favor of Belation, to whom Caelinis runs on chubby legs with all haste. Belation kneels and catches his boy to his breast, kissing the blond curls. "Shh...shh...what happened?"

"Thank you, Tauriel. We were playing with that ball," Ostiel explains carefully, reaching out to calmly press Maglind down, eyes and expression saying 'no' without the need of words. "It hit Maglind here in the back of his head." She pauses and thinks for a long moment. "With your permission, Maglind, I would like to have Belation carry you to the healing talan? It will only do you ill to walk and injure yourself further."

With his helper now gone to his father, Galharth frowns deeply as he plants his cane into the ground before him. Clamping his jaw tightly, and struggling with the weakness in his leg, the clothier grasps his cane and pushes himself off the ground. His efforts cause his face to glow brightly red and it literally takes his breath away. "I'll follow behind," he says as he hobbles nearer to the Warden.

"Hello, Belation," says Maglind brightly as his fellow Order member swims into view. He falls flat again, adding, "It is merely a bump. But," he glances teasingly at Ostiel, "it seems I have no choice."

Tauriel comes to a pause beside Galharth. "The pleasure was mine Ostiel.." she responds with a smile. Flicking her arms, the young elleth adjustes her cape to hang proporly around her shoulders. Then smooths out her gown and hair, which of couse fell loose around the ear.. "Better he seems Galharth..."

"Indeed," Ostiel replies to Maglind, laughter dancing in her voice, oddly enough, "Do you hurt anywhere else, Maglind?" The Cuigrithweg surreptitiously scans the Warden's slender body with keen eyes. However, Galharth steals her attention, a frown forming between her brows. She says nothing however, for doubtless there is no scolding she can give that he has not already heard.

Belation nods, both in reply to Maglind's greeting and Ostiel's request, stroking Caelinis' back with a large, firm hand. "Of course."

Nodding to Tauriel, the Tailor smiles. "Indeed he does Tauriel," Galharth comments as he hobbles to the stairs, missing the looks given by the Attendant. "I'm going to move on ahead, as it'll take me a bit longer." The crafter calls out as he makes his start towards the stairs. As he disappears down the marble steps, the Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap sound can be echoing round the wood.

"I healed," replies Maglind, looking up at Ostiel with wide eyes. "And I think I can move. Perhaps," he says in a lower voice, "you should see to Galharth as well? I can walk on my own, in a little bit. And then I will go to the healer's talan." -- though, something in his voice says that he would rather avoid that place.

Tauriel takes a step back. Hands clasped around her waist, she quietly watches on with a pleasent expression. "Lovely, an expedient recovery." she smiles as hands come apart and re-clasp. "A walk, I think I shall take. On this subject we can speak again good warden.." she asks, head tilting toward the ellon..

"Aye," Ostiel replies in a private tone, eyes follow the Master with depths of concern, "He has not been himself as of late...that worries me. However," the recovery is brisk, "I do not recommend that you walk anytime soon, so please allow Belation to carry you. If you do not wish to travel to the healing talan, though that is what I suggest, where would you prefer to go?"

"I trust the healer's judgment," mutters Maglind, holding out two blind, resigned arms. "Let us go to the healing talan." In his head, no doubt, is the ringing laughter of sentinels. A warden needs to be carried?

It does seem so. Belation passes off the now quietly-watching lad to Ostiel, who tucks him close. The large ellon reaches down to Maglind, bypassing his outstretched limbs and wrapping both tree-trunk arms about the Warden's slender waist.

"Carefully, now," Ostiel murmurs thoughtfully. Belation grunts in reply, lifting Maglind into his arms, one hand beneath the other's legs, the other brace about his ribcage. "Are we off then?"

"Thank you, Tauriel," Ostiel states once again, apology in her eyes. "I am sorry that we interrupted in such a startling way."

Tauriel smiles and waves her gloved hand dissmissively. "Worry not. Maglind I'll seek out again.." she says softly, a polite smile shines on Ostiel.

"You can find me at the Healing Talan, Tauriel," says Maglind, flinching slightly as he is lifted. He tilts his pounding head up again with a groan. "And to think I had escaped that lovely place."

Tauriel nods, smiling on Maglind. "I'll take a stroll.. Thinking on your sceanario good warden.." she says, raising a hood over her ears..

"Farewell, Tauriel," Ostiel offers kindly as she turns toward the open lawn. Belation follows behind her, careful not to jostle his charge.

Tauriel slowly strolls away into the forest..