================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Afternoon < About 1:51 PM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 49 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Waning 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: Fri Aug 31 16:57:19 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
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The afternoon sunlight is golden and pure, but its gentle beams are fragile on this day. A soft breeze blows, rippling
across the surface of the water, bringing a chill to the otherwise gentle weather. The soft intermingling of music and
laughter is carried on this cool, wintry breeze, hovering in the shifting currents of air and gilded light.

Sitting by the stream, a silent figure gazes out upon the water, tossing small pebbles onto its clear, glassy surface.
Lostiriel drinks in the cool sunlight and sits with her head, slightly tilted to the side, resting upon her palm. Grey-blue
eyes are masked by a far-away gleam, and a soft sigh escapes her.

Soft steps climb the stair, muted by the weakling light. This one's hair is golden, pale as the sun on the fountain stream,
and it falls as he tilts his head to look at Lostiriel. "Hello, Lostiriel," Maglind says cheerfully, pausing on the stair.
"Are you trying to dam the stream?"

Walking slowly along the Silver Roadway, Galharth moves at a slow pace using his cane in a leisurely fashion. His pace is
marked with a slight limp, but he's clearly moving better than he has in past weeks. A soft hum rises up from the Tailor's
lips, and he suddenly comes to a stop as he catches sight of Lostiriel and Maglind. "Well met all," he calls out as he turns
towards them and begins to move forward. "Is someone making a dam in the stream?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

Head tilting up, Lostiriel flashes Maglind a playful smile. "A dam or a bridge, take your pick." Soft sunlight falls across
her face, reflecting in her eyes and glistening in the long strands of her hair. "And yes, Galharth, I am the one who is
causing the stream trouble," she calls to him, "soon, I think, I shall incur its wrath and it shall rise and swallow me."
She laughs softly and continues tossing pebbles, watching the ripples expand across the water's surface.

"Oh, come," chuckles Maglind, "this stream is gentler than its northern cousins."

The warden looks around, waving to Galharth. "We meet again, and even in the same place as before! What brings you here?"

"Either the wrath of the stream or the Lady herself." Galharth chuckles softly as he nears the streams edge. "This stream
does feed the water that supplies her Mirror does it not?" Coming to a stop, he nods towards Maglind, "Much calmer I'd say
to either it's northern or southern cousins."

"Well then, I trust that the water shall not grow too despondent." Taking in a deep breath of air, Lostiriel's gaze is
fastened on the distance, and she allows the remaining pebbles to trickle from her hand onto the bank. Looking up again,
Lostiriel beckons the two by saying, "It is quite comfortable down here if you care to join me. Or perhaps you prefer
standing. Either way. But anyway, how does this day find the two of you?"

"There is nothing much happening, for me," replies Maglind, carefully coming to sit down by the streambank. "I am off duty
for a little while, but ... I have not touched my harp in so long, playing it seems like meeting a stranger."

"I'm better," Galharth says swiftly, with a tap of his cane, hinting in some way that his leg is now stronger. Glancing
towards the water, he purses his lips and furrows his brow. "The water reminds me of my desire to progress with the diving
on the lawn. Do you suppose the Lady will give her approval this week?"

"You play the harp, Maglind? I envy you and your ability." She smiles warmly and sighs deeply, lifting her face toward the
sky, half-closing her eyes as she listens to the sounds floating on the breeze. "And you are better, Galharth? That is
wonderful. I am very glad to hear it." She pauses, wrapping her cloak a bit tighter to protect herself from the chill.
Lostiriel then says, "As for me, I am simply enjoying the glory of this day. But what are speaking of, Galharth? Diving on
the lawn?"

"He means the Anduin by the lawn, not the grass itself," says Maglind, dipping his fingers into the stream. "We've found
some interesting things in a sunken wreck. Perhaps Galharth can explain better than I can."

"A bard lives within the Guard, and yet he won't acknowledge it. It's something I've mentioned more than once before." The
Tailor says with a grin toward Maglind. Turning his glance towards the Courier, he shakes his head. "As Maglind has said,
there are a number of interesting items found, and that is a long story I fear. For the moment it evolves around a knife
found that has inspired visions in both myself and Maglind." Taking a breath he Galharth releases it slowly. "As interesting
as this is, I suppose first it'd be best to got forth to retrieve or destroy the remains of the catapult." Again he looks
towards Maglind, "At least to resolve the matter of the catapult will keep folk such at Tauriel from her attempts." Lifting
his cane and tapping his right leg he smiles. "My leg is better, perhaps we can plan a trip north?" Lifting a brow, he
glances from Lostiriel and then to Maglind.

Long silence meets Galharth's statement. Lostiriel's face is turned once more toward the water and she focuses on how the
beams of light reflect off its liquid surface, and how reflection shimmers and wavers as the river tumbles gently on its
journey. "Well," she begins slowly, "the very word 'catapult' makes me cringe. However, I do think it best to do something
about the ever persistent issue, if only so that it need never be worried over again." Her words are soft and are caught in
the breeze, tossed about on the drifting currents.

"And yet he is still a guard first," replies the warden.

"Catapult," muses Maglind, "it has not proven to be much use yet. This will not be a retrieval, I think, but a few
well-placed fire arrows will do the task. We could hide in the trees, and perhaps we will remain unseen."

"That is my thought, elliminate the issue so that it does not haunt as it does now." Galharth says with a frown. "There was
a time I would grieve with its destruction, but now, I think the time has come to remove its threat."

Nodding towards Maglind, he continues. "I only ask that I witness its destruction. If I would be permitted."

Thoughts are clearly tumbling through Lostiriel's mind, and she drops her head onto her open palm once more as she sits
reflecting on Galharth's words. The breeze lifts her golden strands of hair and then sunlight cascades over her shoulder,
the contrast of these two sensations causing a shiver to run down her spine. Then, lifting her head and gazing straight at
Galharth, her blue-encircled eyes boring into his, she asks, "You would go on this endeavor?" It is clear that this question
is leading somewhere, but she stops here for the moment.

"I would allow you," replies Maglind, glancing softly at the white roadway, finger twisting behind his back, "but that is
for those higher than me to decide. Can you climb, Galharth? Can you run?"

"Of course I would go," Galharth replies to Lostiriel. Turning he nods toward Maglind. "I thank you Warden. I'm sure the
decision will be left to you as those higher seem drawn towards other matters." Frowning, the Tailor holds his cane high and
stands upon his own two feet. "I can run, and I can climb, and while not perfect, and still faulty, I can manage." Narrowing
his eyes slightly he peers at his friend. "Besides, we're not directly approaching the abandoned equipment. It is your
intent to rain fire upon it, and let it burn."

Tilting his head, he asks, "So when do we go?"

"Of course you would," Lostiriel agrees, nodding. Then, turning to Maglind, she inquires, "And who else would go with you?"
This is all she asks, and she waits for the response, eyes lowered. She shifts and keeps her gaze fastened downward, her
hands intertwining in her lap.

"No one," replies Maglind gently, looking off into the trees, "no one to meet the horrible creatures of land unprotected by
mellyrn. Fewer people will move faster. Unless," he continues awkwardly, "they would throw themselves outside the borders,
as our young elleth nearly did."

"Who would be fool enough to throw themselves beyond the safety of our borders?" Galharth says with a frown. "I can not
aruge the few numbers, as I feel as perhaps you do. There has been too much injury over a tool." Letting the tip of his cane
rest lightly atop the soil, the Tailor shakes his head. "Let it be we two Maglind. My sword, and your bow. A quick trip
north, and an equally quick trip home." Turning to Lostiriel, he offes a smile. "I would miss you as you surely saved our
lives on our last outting. Again I thank you for that."

"Indeed. I thought my worth, at least, was proved last time." These words are quietly spoken, and still she does not look
up. "Thanks, I still say, are hardly necessary. But...I wish that I could go..." These words, so low and wistful, are
infused with such a variety of emotions that they are tremulously spoken.

"I know," says Maglind, his fingers forming a twisted knot. "But you have finished your internship in the Order, have you
not Lostiriel? Is there value in seeing that Overlord's foul face once more?"

"If you wish," he begins, looking up at Galharth, "perhaps you could accompany us to the borders. But I ask that you go no
farther."

"Wonderful idea Maglin!" Galharth exclaims as he turns from the sream to begin wander once more. "Send word ont he date of
our departure, and I will surely be counted beside you." Striking up a happy tune, the Talior sets off on his journey.
"Until later, good day all," he calls out absently as he disappears upon the path.

"I accept your suggestion, Maglind." Lostiriel finally looks up and offers a brief smile. "I shall see you to the borders.
And wish you well," she finishes softly, adding, "I do hope that this endeavor fairs better than the last." She smiles and
waves to Galharth as he departs, shaking her head. "Yes, much better."

Maglind rests his face in both hands, watching Galharth go between his fingers. "Dear Valar, I hope so. We've had enough
trouble with that thing. I care for the Tailor dearly, but this catapult ... has caused us all so much trouble."

Realizing what he is doing, he hastily takes his hands away and sits straight. "How are you, Lostiriel? Have your studies as
a courier gone well?"

Nodding, Lostiriel replies, "Yes, very well. I am quite satisfied with everything so far. Its not nearly so exciting now as
it was," she notes, grinning, "but it is not often that one can go on wild adventures, I suppose." Standing, Lostiriel
brushes the sides of her gown with her hands. "Well, Maglind, I must depart now, but I dearly enjoyed our conversation. Let
me know when you will be departing." Then, with a smile, Lostiriel swiftly walks away.

"Soon enough," he replies shortly, looking after Lostiriel, before he turns around and begins to stir the water with his
fingers.