================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dusk < About 7:57 PM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 31 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: New <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: Thu Aug 23 15:39:21 2007
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Healing Talan
This hushed talan is a quiet place of healing for those Galadhrim injured in battle. White robed Quendi, one wearing a
bracelet, easily walk about, tending to visitors, offering refreshments, and various other small jobs. Meanwhile patients
lie on comfortable, sparkling pads, gazing out at a sweeping view of the wood. Sunlight streams though the leaves of the
mellyrn, casting dancing shadows on the wooden floor. The air has a fresh, clean feeling. You feel better just resting here
for a moment.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Lostiriel
Tauriel
=====================================================================

Grey twilight: the moon is dark and the starlight glances off the leaves, and the newly-lit elven lamps shine in the city.

The border has been quiet, therefore most of the cots are empty. The only patient awake is sitting upright, sheet clasped
around his body, hair comically tousled by a loose bandage. Maglind glances to the door, sitting back as an attendant whisks
by, and he grumbles.

In the darkness, a strange tapping against the talan floor announces the arrival of the Tailor. Pausing at the entrance, he
offers a silent nod towards the Attendants before turning towards the Warden. "You're a mess." Galharth says as he begins to
walk forward again. Leaning upon his cane, the soft tapping echo's within the confines of the Healers Talan.

Upon reaching Maglind's cot, the clothier gingerly lowers himself to sit at the end. "How long until you can leave? Surely
they won't keep you too long."

A head pokes into the talan, accompanied by bright eyes. Rhibi peers around the entire room, then appears in the room,
dancing towards Maglind and Galharth. "Are you not well yet?" he asks, not thinking to speak quietly. The boy settles
himself lithely onto the floor and looks up at the two elder elves.

"I'm fine," mutters Maglind, a scowl hidden on his face. "If they let me, I'll be out tomorrow morning. If they do not, then
tonight." He buries his forehead in one hand. "To think I'd be knocked out by a child's toy. This is a shame."

Galharth chuckles softly and shakes his head. "With all that we've faced, I'd have to agree that it is a shame." Blinking
innocently, and offering a neutral expression, he adds, "Perhaps you can start wearing your helmet in and around the city,"
He blinks again and his lips curl slightly at the corners, "If you'd like, I can add a few decorations so that you can make
a fashion statement."

Rhibi brightens instantly. "I shall help you!" he declares, raising up to his knees and looking around. "No one is looking,"
he says, now lowering his voice to nearly a whisper.

"Good Tailor," says Maglind affably, "I'm a warden, not a jester." Blinking at Rhibi, a grin crosses his face. "Tonight,
then," he whispers. "My clothes are nearby -- let me get them..."

The warden slides off the bed, blunders around briefly in his sheets, and almost immediately stumbles into a heap on the
floor, next to Galharth's feet.

"Maglind!" Galharth hisses as he leans down to offer the Warden help in getting upright, "We'll not get you promoted to
Marchwarden if you keep this up." Reaching out, he offers a hand to the downed ellon.

"Rhibi, why don't you retrieve his clothing." the Tailor suggests softly as he eyes the Attendants carefully. "You're faster
than any of us, and much better at diverstions as well."

Entering the talan, Lostiriel's grey eyes fasten on Maglind and his bandaged head, and her expression changes swiftly to
confusion as her eyes widen. "Yet another wound, and so soon?" she asks, her voice half teasing and half serious. She grins
at Rhibi and, then, shifting her attention, she smiles, "Galharth!" As the warden begins stumbling, however, she gasps and
watches as he falls, reaching forward in an attempt to help him. She pauses as Galharth helps to right him and quickly steps
back.

A grin crosses the youth's face, and he nods eagerly, looking around to note the position of each attendent. Lostiriel
enters, and he takes immediate advantage of her conversation to slither along the floor to the end of the room. A peek from
behind the last bed in the row, and he scoots for the clothes-press; searching through the garments there - one eye on the
healer, one on his work.

"I don't want to get promoted, anyway," hisses Maglind back, throwing off the sheets -- he is clad only in a long white
tunic. "Hello, Lostiriel," he says cheerfully, "I'm fine now. We were just going to sit in the gardens."

Then he turns to Rhibi and whispers, in a conspiratorial voice trained by silent guards, "It's a cloak. The garish red one."

A slender hand sifts through the last tunic, snatches up the cloak and slides back to Maglind's bed. He stuffs it under the
covers - just in time. One attendent is bustling over, attracted by Lostiriel's silent horror, and she glares at the youth.
"You again," she says in a long-suffering voice. "Pestering my patients! Out!" Rhibi grins at her jauntily and disappears,
stopping just before his head vanishes out the doorway to wink at Maglind and point towards the sky.

A deep frown is offered to the Warden. "Well that explains the active attempts to prevent promotion. Clearly, you're a
sucess." Galharth mutters. Turning towards the Courier, his smile disappears. "Well met and good eve, Lostiriel." he says
softly. Opening his mouth to say something more, the Attendant addressing Rhibi catches his attention.

Blinking in confusion, the clothier looks to Maglind. "Did he get them? Was that a signal?" Shaking his head, the Tailor
looks to the point in which Rhibi disappeared. "Ah well, at least he tried."

Slightly confused by the activity, Lostiriel's attention darts from Maglind, to Rhibi, to the attendant, to Galharth. "Well,
I am glad to hear that you are fine, Maglind. The gardens?" She nods at this, and her eyes go back to Rhibi as he quickly
exits, and she chuckles softly. Her eyes lift to Galharth and linger there for a moment, and her expression changes as
though she is reflecting on something. Then, looking again to Maglind she softly teases, "I do hope you recieved this new
wound in a slightly less dramatic fashion."

"Much less so," replies the warden, a faint blush covering his cheeks. "It is nothing, Attendant," he calls to the healer,
"I had fallen and Galharth was helping me up."

This said, one hand moves up to twitch the sheets, revealing the embroidered hem of his clothes underneath. Success.

"Indeed Lostiriel, this time a child ball brought our dear Warden down." Galharth teases. Sweeping a hand towards the empty
cot beside Maglind's own, he glances to the Courier. "You might as well sit and be comfortable. It'll be a moment before we
can attempt our escape into the gardens."

Grinning, but managing to hold back laughter, Lostiriel replies, "Well, I'm sure that a child's ball, properly thrown, could
do some damage..." Moving forward, Lostiriel sits on the cot. "Escape, Galharth?" she asks, laughing, "I don't know if I
should be part of this deception. It might be a bit soon after such a blow to the head." She winks at both Galharth and
Maglind, sparkling with mirth as she shifts on the cot.

"This is the third night," mumbles Maglind, as the attendant slowly moves away. One hand grasps the sheets, "It chafes in
here. And I can see now, and move ... somewhat." His fingers creep over the linen and grasp the cloak, pulling the velvet
off the bed.

"If it had only been the ball, then you'd have been released on the first day." Galharth says flatly. "Even so, I'd have to
say that you'd be free to leave even with your combination of injuries."

Shifting slightly on the end of the bed, he looks to the exit. "Unfortunately...." he says glancing back to Maglind, "The
fact that you'd have to go down from the talan, I think it best you wait another day as Lostiriel says." Glancing now to
Lostiriel the Tailor smiles. "We'd not make you part of an escape without your consent."

Lostiriel says, "Did you hear that, Maglind?" Lostiriel asks lightly, "Not without my consent." She flashes him a grin, but
remarks seriously, "But, considering the stumbling and slipping that took place, perhaps you really should wait. It would be
sad indeed if your escape attempt only served to provide another accident that would further prolong your stay." Her
attention turns, then, to Galharth and she tilts her head to the side, asking with feigned seriousness, "What do you think
of forced restraint? That ball might just have knocked the reasoning right out of his head." But her words are soft, and
filled with actual concern, so as not to be taken offensively."

"I suppose another night is not unbearable," sighs Maglind resignedly, wobbling back upright. "But Rhibi did help me. It
would be a shame to return the cloak, and besides, who would watch the boy?"

Tauriel suddenly appears at the top of the stairs. Hands steepled at the waist, the young elleth's cape hangs perfectly from
the shoulders. The green of her gown clearly visable as the cape open. Normally light brown hair is now a dark black as it
appears to be freshly washed and wet. It is brushed pefectly straight and touches all the way down to the lower back. Her
ear and half ear are quite obvious with this temperary arrangement. "Ellons and elleth" she says softly, her presence likely
noticed for the first time.

"Nay, Maglind will behave himself." Galharth says with a chuckle to Lostiriel. "No need to restrain he who will follow
orders." His good humor remains as he turns to Maglind. "He can manage alone without our watching. He's nearly a hundred
isn't he?" Glancing over his shoulder to towards the exit he catchs sight of Tauriel. "Well met Tauriel," The clothier says
with a nod.

Her feet clean for once, Tauriel steps forward to where Maglind lay. With a bright expression, she looks on the trio warmly
before her attention falls completely on Maglind. "Scenario yours, solved I think.. " she says enthusiastically, her
steepled hands clasping togther tight. Her eyes drift to Galharth as she speaks, obviously just as excited to tell him her
solution..

Smiling at Tauriel, Lostiriel waves at her before turning to Galharth and replying, "Well then I shall rest assured in your
faith in him." She grins at Maglind and stands, "But, because I am able to leave, I shall have to bid you all goodbye." She
turns to leave before hesitating, turning once more to Galharth. "I hope that we will be able to work on that project soon.
I have yet to really get involved with it, though I am still very intrigued by it."

"Farewell," says Maglind quietly, sliding back onto his cot. "My scenario? What of it?" he asks Tauriel, clutching the cloak
in one hand.

"I had wished to speak with you on this Lostiriel, as I've already begun the project and wish to share the details. Perhaps
later." Galhartb says as the Courier moves to depart. Turning to the newest arrival, and sitting quietly, the Tailor eyes
Tairiel with a lifted brow.

Nodding, Lostiriel answers, "I am eager to hear what you have to share." Then, smiling once more around, she bids everyone
another goodbye before slipping away.

Tauriel 's clasped hands raise to just under her chin. "Submerged my head was, hair cleaning under the waters of the river.
Contemplating the scenario you posed, destroy the catapult unseen. Indeed a task quite daunting." she says grinning, hear
hands moving expressively with her descriptions. "After a great snow, under the embrase of a warm morning sun. An Ellon,
alone, silent, traverse to the hills he will. The catapult, its guardians he will inspect. A fire arrow at this moment could
destroy the weapon, though only if they eyes of many are turned... Unlikely this may be. So. Producing an insturment of the
lowest of tones and loudest of volumes could awaken the snowy hills themselves. Snow thrown forth in horrifying quantity,
the hill's weapon against evil would clense all.. Doubtful any could withstand natures wrath. Those who did, an ellon's
spear to the heart, as dig themselves out they try..."

Maglind is silent for a long time, hands steepled, silent. "I see," he says finally. "It would produce an avalanche. But in
the foothills there is very little snow, barely enough to crush underfoot. And what of the ellon? Does he fall, buried with
his enemies? Surely a structure of wood does not require a sacrifice of flesh."

Galharth sighs softly and shakes his head. "As Maglind says, and many others have said before, there will be no further risk
to anyone over the catapult. The setting of an avalanche sounds impressive, but the action would fail to do anything save
placing someone in danger." Galharth says in an even tone. He pauses to glance at Maglind and then to Tauriel. "Second,
there are several regulations that we citizens have to follow, and still more that govern the Guard. No one leaves the wood
without escort. A single ellon going forth as you've said would violate Lord Celeborn's orders."

A frown appears upon his face, and the clothier struggles to rise to his feet. Once standing, he leans heavily upon his cane
as he turns to face the elleth. "My dear, if you wish to pursue these thoughts, I would strongly encourage you to join the
Guard so that you might reconcile matters for you."

Tauriel nods understanding. "Behind a rocky outcropping an Ellon could easily take refuge. Correct you are however, full of
holes this plan of mine." she says understandingly. The young elleth's hands fall and pat her sash, it seems full with
artifacts. "Red fungus and Waterskin I have on my person. With a borrowed bow, perhaps a knife. Tonite, the area I shall
travel to. Inspect myself I will.. Hmmm.. Bring a torch I should as well. If opprutunity presents, perhaps destroy catapult
I could." she says trying to be as adult as possable.

The ellon sits up. "You will not," replies Maglind, his voice suddenly sharp and commanding, as befits a warden.

"Galharth speaks truth, Tauriel," he says in a softer tone, holding one hand painfully to his brow. "It is against the Lord
Celeborn's command to go alone, and I do not want to impose danger on you. Stronger edhil have returned with grave wounds,
and some have not come back. I forbid you."

"And thus the Warden has spoken, and as a Guard his holds authority on the matter." Galharth says firmly. "The catapult is
now buried under the winter snow, and we'll have a resolution well before the spring. Have no worry on the matter, Tauriel."

Glancing towards Maglind, the clothier offers a smile. "Rest up this eve, and I'll be back tomorrow when you're good and
released from these halls." Looking back towards the elleth, he offers a smile. "And good eve to you as well," he says as he
hobbles towards the talan's exit. Within moments, he disappears from sight.

Tauriel 's eyes widen and she takes a defencive step back. Her hands pressing against her chest, about the heart, obviously
surprised by the sharp reaction from the pair of ellon. With a furrowed brow she glares on Maglind "OH forbid me you do?!."
she barks angerly, her breathing turning heavy. "Lord Celeborn I doubt has thought on this with my depth, and pleased he
will be with my success. Where stronger ellyn have failed, a smarth elleth will succeed.".

Tauriel 's eyes widen and she takes a defencive step back. Her hands pressing against her chest, about the heart, obviously
surprised by the sharp reaction from the pair of ellon. With a furrowed brow she glares on Maglind "OH forbid me you do?!."
she barks angerly, her breathing turning heavy. "Lord Celeborn I doubt has thought on this with my depth, and pleased he
will be with my success. Where stronger ellyn have failed, a smarter elleth will succeed.".

"Or fail again," replies Maglind, eyes flashing as he snaps his head up. "Our foe does not value strength nor cunning, but
brute numbers. Four armed elves nearly died at the hand of a single troll. And wolves rode into Lothlorien itself. Where
will you hide? If you are found..."

The warden's head droops suddenly, and he moves stiffly, touching his temples.

"Touch light a wolf fears. Warden, this is known by all. And seen I shall not, careful to the last detail I am.." she
responds softly, placing her hand on the warden's shoulder. Her head tilts forward and looks on the ellon with serious eyes.
"Notice I'm gone you surely will not. Don't think your permission I'm asking." the young elleth adds with a point.

"But yrch have noses, and ears, and a craving for blood," Maglind says flatly, "and wolves under the spur of their riders
know no fear." One thin hand reaches up, threatening to grab Tauriel's hand. "If you go outside the borders, I will stop
you."

The adulesent elleth withdraws her pointed finger from the warden and takes another step backward. "Stop me!?! Who do you
think you are?!!!.. Good for lothlorian I look out for, Thought hard on this I did." she barks indignantly at Maglind. "Not
taken seriously I always am, even at three hundred.". Tears form in her eyes as she shouts at the Ellon. "Ignore me several
times you have.. If not for Galharth, perhaps never the time of day you give.."

"Me? I am a warden," replies Maglind coldly, calmly, "and I protect the forest and its people." His voice drops and pleads.
"Tauriel, Tauriel, I cannot let you go like this. It is dangerous. Please, stay and think. I beg you."