================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 10:32 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 67 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <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: Mon Sep 24 21:31:01 2007
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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
Rhibi
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Winter circles the Golden Wood, and the terribly black clouds of the winter storm that rages well beyond the protected haven of Lothlorien blocks the golden rays of the late morning sun. A chilly breeze blows from the west, warmed only by the Lady's grace, for indeed the sky she can not command, but time moves little in this elven home. Song rises up, bringing forth treasured memories of golden light of day and silvery sparkling stars of night. Even with the muted light of the stormy sky, the day is pleasant.

Stretched out on a blanket, propped up by a mound of pillows, the Tailor Galharth looks upwards into the sky, finding the swirls of blacks, greys, and gentle white to be mesmerizing. As he watches the clouds, he hums softly to himself.

A young elf dances across the lawn, holding something up over his head and watching it drift down. But what he watches... even to the sharpest eyes, there is nothing there. Rhibi pauses just before he trips over Galharth, rolls the air itself into a ball and hurls it at the tailor.

Movement catches the clothier's attention, and he moves his gaze just as Rhibi tosses a ball of air. Blinking in confusion, Galharth finally shakes his head. "And good to see you again as well." he mutters with a lifted brow. "Is this a game? Am I suppose to know the rules?"

The child laughs gleefully. "It is snow!" he declares, swiping another ball of nothing from the sky and tossing it into the air. His eyes follow a gentle arc that lands on the ground near Galharth. "I have seen snow, truly, I have, and I wanted some. It is such fun to play with. And the little pieces all sparkle."

"Perhaps if you ask the Lady nicely, she would allow a day of winter within the wood." Galharth says as he peers at the youth with no small amount of indulgence. "Or, perhaps we can plan an outting to the south, as there is less trouble there, than to the North, West, and East."

"South? To the great trees?" Rhibi asks with interest. He squats down beside the tailor. "Are you quite well again? Will the Lady let you leave? You keep getting hurt!" He sounds quite naively proud of himself when he adds, "I have only gotten injured once! Though it was very bad; I did not like it." A thundrous look descends on his young face. "I must go to Imlad."

Galharth makes a very un-elven like snort at Rhibi's words. "We all keep getting hurt, certainly I'm not alone in that." Smoothing out the blankets over his lap, the brace upon his leg shows as straight angles under the softness of the material. "It'll be some time before I'll be able to make any trips I fear, unless we can manage to borrow a few horses." Pausing, an odd looks takes hold, and he whispers, "I wonder.... Horses, now that would be interesting."

The boy settles onto the grass, crossing his legs. "Horses are interesting," he agrees. "It is too bad they cannot climb trees. I like talking to them."

"Talking to the horses or the Trees?" Galharth says, slightly confused by the boy's chatter. "When last we went through those woods, I had too little chance to talk to the Trees, but I've honestly never tried to talk to horses."

"Both!" Rhibi laughs. "But this time, I meant the horses. Haven't you? I thought that's what you meant when you said they were interesting. You should try it some time. Although... they really haven't got much to say. And," he struggles for the right words. "They don't really /say/ it, either."

Offering the youth a deadpan look, Galharth shakes his head. "It is my leg that was hurt, but not my mind. If horses could talk, I'm sure someone would have mentioned something before now." Leaning back into his pillows, he offers Rhibi a smile. "Honestly, a trip south to play in the snow might be fun. Perhaps we should seriously arrange something."

"But," the boy protests, "I meant it! I mean, I did not mean they can talk, not like I can talk." He puts his fingers on his mouth and wiggles it back and forth. "But, truly, they are interesting to talk to!" He gives Galharth an admonishing look. "You must learn to listen properly!" But the scolding is interrupted by snow. Rhibi starts up onto his knees, a blissful expression on his face. "Oh, we should! Think what fun it will be! I will make REAL balls of snow and throw them!"

"We could make forts, and let the snowballs fly!" Galharth says with a small laugh. "I can think of a number of folks who need a moment or two of laughter." With that he falls silent and looks down to his hands. "Pehaps you should speak with the Lady. We could use a moment or two in the snow....."

Looking up he tilts his head and crystal blue eyes peer intently at the youth. "You mentioned a need to go to Imladhrim. Is there a reason, or one just being revisited?"

"ME?" Rhibi looks alarmed. "No, no, you ask her. She is angry with me all the time now." He shifts a little uncomfortably but replies forthrightly. "The Dunedain told me that Hir Elrond would know how to make a sword to cut stone, and so I must go and ask him."

A soft laugh follows Rhibi's words, and the Tailor shakes his head. "I'm not so sure it's safe for me to ask the Lady either, for I'm rarely too far behind the trouble you're in."

The laughter dies at the mention of a Dunedain. "Which one? We've so many of late. Have you met Angroch? And I think Aragorn is still here." Frowning and narrowing his eyes at the youth, he asks, "Have you asked our Smiths if they can make the blade you need?"

Rhibi nods. "Aragorn," he says. "I think. He told me that if no one here could make me such a sword, that Hir Elrond could." He looks a little guiltily at the tailor. "I shall ask her then," he says. "You ... do you think she will say yes?"

"Wwwwwwhat!" Galharth growls as he sits up from the mound of pillows. "We have fine smiths, as fine as any that now reside in Imladhrim." Crossing his arms over his chest, it is evident that the Craftmaster is displeased with the news shared. "Such things said are based on what? We each have our skills and truely, several of our smiths remember a time when the dwarves shared their knowledge....."

Looking up with a furrowed brow and a frown. "What?" he asks at the youth's last words, "I see no reason why she would say no..."

Rhibi looks abashed, and hurries to try and placate the tailor. "I didn't mean that," he says quickly, "I mean, I only asked him if he knew someone and he said IF they didn't know here. I..." He gives Galharth a sideways glance. "I only really asked one smith, and he didn't know. But I thought he would tell me if anyone else could and he didn't say anything! So I thought no one did."

Still fretting over an insult to the Crafters, the Tailor makes a few odd sounds, "I'm /sure/ it was a mistake, as our crafters are skilled beyond compare." Taking a deep breath, Galharth settles back into his pillows and yawns. "Alas, I grow weary, and the clouds that swarm over Lorien do not help to keep me awake. Will you be staying here for a time, or should I seek a nap before the healers come to poke and prod at me."

"Oh, you can take a nap," Rhibi says helpfully. "I did not mean to come and bother you. I will go away again and you will sleep and then we will go find the snow." He jumps up and hurries off, looking over his shoulder uncertainly. "It was a mistake... only a mistake..."