================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 11:12 AM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 40 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous <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: Tue Aug 28 16:04:12 2007
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Silver Roadway - Southeastern Arc - Fountain Stream
You are standing on a cool Silver Roadway, nearly white in comparison with the other roads. Decorative carvings are etched
along the road's borders as it circles around the hill, and it is along this path that the four Great Houses have their
meeting telain and living quarters. You are surrounded by light and song and laughter, the strumming of harps and elvish
lutes trickles down to your ears on a soft breeze from above. Nearby, the great Marble Stairway passes through the roadway,
not far from where a small bridge is built across the Fountain Stream.

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

Lorien nears winter. In other places there would be rain and cold and fallen red leaves, but here the grasp of time loosens.
Today it is overcast, but the sun shining above the blanket brightens the sky, turning it white.

A shadow falls on the faintly glowing pathway, stilled in thought. Like a bending tree it does not move from its place,
though wind blows and disturbs his cloak and yellow hair like so many leaves.

Not a single sound comes as the Clothier moves along the path. With each step he takes, Galharth carefully places the bottom
of his cane against the ground. His face is one of careful concentration as he walks, and this expression does not change as
he moves onto the Silver Roadway.

Crystal blue eyes flicker about the Fountain Stream, as if searching for someone, or perhaps something. "Hello?" he calls
out as he peers into the shadows.

Drifting silently along the edge of the water, Lostiriel is oblivious to Maglind's approach, she she walks with head
lowered. Her grey eyes are cast upon the ground, and her cloak blows gently about her feet as she walks. Suddenly, she takes
a step away from the stream, for in straying to close, the hem of her dress has become wet. At the same moment, she hears a
voice call out, and her startled face is lifted as eyes search the perimeter. Seeing Galharth, she smiles. "Galharth," she
greets warmly. She pushes back the strands of her hair that blow about her face, glancing down with a frown as she looks as
the hem of her gown. "Such is the hazard of absent-mindedly straying too close to water."

A pair of blue eyes peer back at Galharth, though not as bright: Maglind's voice comes from the shadows. "Yes, Master
Tailor? What is it?"

"Maglind?" the Tailor questions softly. Stretching his neck slightly to peer at the shadowy form with narrowed eyes,
Galharth offers a smile. "Are you trying to practice the art of invisibility on the poor citizens of the city? Certainly it
seems to have worked with me." he says as he steps forward, nearer to the source of the voice. "I thought you were on the
border, or at least this is what my sister has said," the clothier says as he steps forwards towards the Warden.

Another voice drifts through the air, and the ellon turns towards it. As he catches sight of Lostiriel, he smiles. "Well
met, Courier." As she speaks, his gaze drops towards the lady's hem and he chuckles softly. "Thankfully, it will wash out.
Or, perhaps you can dye your entire outfit the color of the mud so you can lurk as the warden does in the shadows."

Eyes turn swiftly to the other figure. "Indeed, Maglind. I think you must be invisible, or my eyes do not work properly."
She smiles and she laughs lightly, "Which, considering that I nearly attempted a swim in the stream, may be possible. And
thank you for the suggestion, Galharth," she remarks dryly, though her eyes sparkle with mirth.

"It was rolled in mud, truly," replies Maglind briefly, separating from the shadow. "I have not attempted to wash or mend
it. It seems the time for a new cloak has come at last, Galharth."

A bird flies overhead; a shadow flickers over his face. "I was there earlier. Wardens move quickly by the tree-paths. So I
returned." Fled, he does not say, though the afterthought sounds in his voice.

As the clothier examines the Warden's cloak, he shivers slightly. "Perhaps the need for a new cloak is an understatement."
Galharth says flatly as he steps forward. Lifting his left hand, he reaches forth and pokes at the worn and stressed fabric.
"Stop by the weavers talan, and if I'm not there, then surely your mother can see to issuing you a replacement."

Turning towards Lostiriel, the Tailor shakes his head. "Perhaps it might be best to avoid the advice I've given. Clearly the
Warden's treatment is more than the fabric can take."

"It would appear so." Eyes surveying Maglind, she inquires, "Is everything alright?" Lostiriel studies his face and looks
questioningly at the state of his cloak, but does not say anything else as she waits for his response. She shifts, wrapping
her cloak a bit tighter about her, glancing briefly to Galharth before turning her attention once more to Maglind.

"You will remember that I was dragged quite a distance," replies Maglind mildly, fingering the worn hem. He smiles and
tosses the cloak over his shoulder. "Nothing is wrong. The events of the past few days have been hurried and slightly
straining."

"Is this a matter surrounding Tauriel? My brother in law tells my sister that the elleth was placed in protective custody to
prevent foolish actions." Galharth says as he shifts and leans heavily upon his cane. "Certainly this was not the result of
the discussion we had with her in the city a week past. Was it?"

Growing curious, Lostiriel's eyes widen and she asks, "What about Tauriel? Why was she placed in protective custody?" She
studies Maglind with more inquisitive eyes, waiting for him to answer.

Maglind shrugs briefly, backing into the edge of the roadway. There he sits, and lays his hands upon his knees. "She wanted
to cross the Celebrant, for some reason. I stopped her, and," he looks up bleakly, "'locked her in a cage.'"

"Certainly she wasn't going to go set off the avalance to destroy the catapult, was she?" gasps Galharth as his eyes grow
wide and he takes a step back in shock. "She has no skill, no training, and not even a full understanding of matters outside
her childish world." Shaking his head, he steps forward to reclaim the step recently lost as he continues to speak, "Tell me
that she at least understands the danger she placed herself and the wood in, with only an attempt."

"Oh..." Lostiriel sighs, the words holding more and more interest as the two continue to converse. She shakes her head, brow
furrowed as she considers what is being said. "An avalance?" Her expression is incredulous, and she notes, "I see you had
good reason to resort to a cage."

"What can a child understand?"

Maglind's tone is soft, slightly wistful, ironic. "She does not grasp it. Ask your sister's husband, Galharth. He spoke with
her, and she did naught but shed tears."

The warden turns, his sad cloak fluttering with movement: "An avalanche, Lostiriel. To awaken the wrath of the mountains and
blanket the whole land is no child's play."

"Indeed, a cage is the best solution." the Tailor mutters to the Courier, but to Maglind, he shakes his head "For someone to
set forth upon with an intent to destroy the efforts of another, without consulting that other," he pauses, though clearly
angry, and he swallows hard in order to focus his thoughts. "Perhaps it'd be best for me to speak with her myself, rather
than to be set off in anger." With that, the crafter turns away and heads off down the stairs.

Watching Galharth leave, Lostiriel nods. "You are right, Maglind. It is reckless and foolish." She tilts her head to the
side, "But I do not understand what would have given her such an idea, nor what would have made her so stubborn in her
attempt. It is difficult for me to understand. Perhaps, though, Galharth will be able to reason with her."

Maglind does not look down the stairs. "Aye," he sighs softly, clasping his hands together. "Perhaps it was my fault first.
We brought up the situation in her hearing, and soon she came back with her solution. I was unable to stop her."

"Do you think this is too harsh for a child, Lostiriel?"

Pausing, Lostiriel takes time to seriously consider Maglind's question. "It is difficult for me to say. If she simply does
not understand, then at least she is not operating in defiance...but she can not be allowed to bring harm to herself or
others. If this is required to stop her, then perhaps it is necessary. Perhaps you will know better after someone else talks
with her and evaluates her response." Lostiriel smiles warmly on him, "Try not to worry. You act only out of concern. Now I
must go, though." Stepping away, Lostiriel offers another encouraging smile before slipping away.