================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Nighttime < About 11:23 PM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 4 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous <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: Thu Sep 27 17:47:44 2007
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Talan of the Firs
The breeze from the outlands is scented with the tang of fir: and so high above the great firs, so near to the northwestern ebb of the mellyrn, the breeze from the outlands is almost cold. This small talan rests in a tall mallorn's crown; banks of living leaves below and to each side of the flet conceal it from prying eyes.

The growth of the tree is such that one could easily watch the mallorn border below, or glimpse the southward path as it draws deeper into the Golden Wood. The foliage to the southwest forms the beginning of a treetop path.

Contents:
Tolur (Temped by Galharth)
Maglind
Angroch
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The winter has ended. At the west-most tip of Lothlorien, snow lingers on the path between brown fir and golden mallorn. But this too does not last. This is the spring: the time when storms cease, when flowers wake, and when armies march.

Not quite. The air is still cold, and the moon shines crooked in a cloudy sky. A ellon sits alone on a branch, soaking in the light, features blurred in thought: sentinels rush here and there, paying Maglind no heed.

While the Sentinel's may pay no attention, there is one who does. Clothed in the trademarked grey cloak of the Galadhrim, Tolur steps towards Maglind. As the Warden nears, he pushes back his hood to reveal his pale hair. "We're ready, mellon, or as ready as a few first born with accompanying second born could be."

Turning in place to look to the north, the Guard's cloak and hair spin around in a whirl. "The weather warms, and the water will soon come trickling down from the mountains. With it will come increased activity." Glancing back towards Maglind, he lifts a brow. "I wouldn't like to be caught in the open when the spring thaw makes travel difficult."

The moonlit warden raises his head too: golden turned silver in the night, they might be brothers or mirrors. "I wouldn't like to be caught in the open anytime," says Maglind dryly, dangling his legs precariously some fifty feet above ground.

"Oh, Warden," he adds, suddenly snapping awake, "I forgot to tell you. If our group is this small, we need a fourth to watch the back. I've asked Thorhur to come along."

Tolur considers the news of the addition for only a moment before he nods. "The patrol is yours to command as you see fit." The Warden says. "Should I see him before you do, I will update him of our plans." Smiling, with one corner of his mouth raised, he adds, "The human we're including seems.... interesting. I like him."

"Is he named Angroch?" asks Maglind, stooping slowly to stand on the thin branches. "I met him once in the rose garden. Perhaps he knows where we are going, for he has traveled far."

"Come to think of it," the warden says, stepping lightly onto the talan floor, "have there been any reports on the place where we are going? Surely a scout must have seen the orc-horde."

Chuckling softly, Tolur nods his head. "The Iron Horse, aye, he goes by Angroch," the Warden says, clearly amused by the human's name. "He's a friendly fellow with a fondness for that smoking weed. Pipeweed I think he called it." Moving to the edge of the talan and looking down towards the path, the Guard shakes his head. "He's a friendly fellow and quiet likable. Given time he should offer us with a great deal of entertainment whilst out on the patrol."

"We'll need some laughter," replies the warden wryly.

Turning back from the edge of the Talan and moving towards Maglind, Tolur squats down. "Laughter is always welcomed, and we certainly see less of it these days." leaning his arms upon his knees, and clasping his hands, the Warden chuckles softly. "Perhaps he'll even allow us to try this pipeweed he spoke of. It would be an interesting experience."

Glancing towards the other Warden, the Guard lifts a brow. "Since we now stand at four when the Commander said three, I'd say we do indeed need to move on. Shall we leave on the morrow?"

"I have heard it makes one act like a fool," mumbles Maglind, tilting his head far up to look at the sky.

"Tomorrow, then, when the sun rises. I hope our enemies still fear the light. It seemed so strange when they roamed about at noontime."

"Does it?" Tolur asks with innocent wonder. "I've heard of it, but I've never actually seen anyone smoke this plant." Narrowing his eyes as he peers at Maglind, he asks, "How does it make you ack a fool?"

Curiosity born from the topic of pipeweed, is quickly lost. "I think we've learned that there are many who we call enemy walk in the light of day." A sigh comes forth from the Warden's lips as he considered his own words. "Times change though we work diligently to keep this from happening."

"I have heard it makes the mind numb," whispers Maglind, moving softly to the talan edge. Plunking himself down on the wooden boards, he stares down at the forest floor. "But perhaps the winter sun was not strong enough."

A frown appears upon the Warden's lips and he peers at Maglind with suspicion. "How can anything make one's mind numb?" Pausing he watches the other move to the edge. "Why would anyone do that to themselves?" Rising to his feet, the Guard joins the other. "Nay, it's not the strength of the sun that keep the uruk at bay. We only have to acknowledge that there are some who now walk freely in the light."

A creak from behind, ever-so-faint, before comes the soft, rasp of the voice of the Iron Horse, "It is safe, Friend Tolur, to assume you have never partook in the fine drink generously poured by a barkeep by name of Barliman Butterbur."

The ranger steps out of the dark, having just climbed from below, his dark emerald cloak concealing most of him in the darkness. He removes the hood, his face visible, "The taste of it brings one to have more, and soon the mind is numbed. Moderation is a trait to be guarded fiercely in such a place."

"Or abstention," says Maglind without thought. But he realizes it is not Tolur who speaks. The warden blinks in surprise, turning to face the Ranger slowly. "Oh! It is Angroch, is it not? Well met."

Turning in surprise, both brows rise at the approach of the Ranger. "Drink? We were speaking of pipeweed." Looking to Maglind, his surprised expression remains, "It was pipeweed, yes?" Leaning towards the other Warden, his voice falls to a whisper, "Did you hear him climb up? Are all humans as stealthy as he?"

"Aye, Angroch," The Iron Horse says, coming forward, hitching a thumb in his belt, the cloak flowing over his elbow like a green cloth waterfall, "Mae govannen."

He steps forward a few more steps, glancing over the edge to see upon which the two guards look, then looks back over his shoulder the way he came up. "I heard the mention of pipeweed, Tolur," he says, bringing his eyes back to the firstborn, "But as a smoker of the fine weed, I have not experienced any such mind numbing experience." He laughs softly, his breath escaping in a foggy plume, "Now, ale in a cozy tavern. That's something else."

"A tavern?" Maglind chuckles gaily, turning aside to hide a glitter in his eye: tears? mischief? "Would it be like the Mar Vanwa Tyalieva in our home? Or are there more drunk men and less inquisitive bartenders?"

Rising to his feet, the Warden grins. "I should like to try your pipeweed then," he says in a friendly tone, "If you'll let me that is." Shaking his head he chuckles softly at the mention of the tavern. "The first born are not as affected by drink, quiet the way the second born are. Still, it'd be interesting to see such a place." Moving towards a rope bridge, he turns and nods towards Maglind and then Angroch. "I need to check the path we're to take. I'll return shortly." With that the Warden is swiftly across the rope bridge and gone into the shadows of night.

~RP went on~