================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Morning
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 17 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Full <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 15 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3039>
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RL time: Feb 16 15:27 2007
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Naith

Participants:
Galharth
Nauthcel
Ostiel
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Within the Naith, soft, green grass makes for a suitable bed for any who may choose to rest there. And on this new day, it is the Ranger Nauthcel whom has taken up residence in the open field. Neither straggling hair nor worn clothing appears the worse after having slept on the ground though the visage does show less lines of weariness. The Dunadan stands and stretches as he makes his way towards the Celebrant. Kneeling on the bank, the Constant cups the running water in his hands and splashes it upon his face in an apparent attempt to awaken himself.

Early morning dew still sits in small crystal beads upon the vegetation as a curious figure walks slowly upon the path. Fair of head, and tall, this figure walks with his head tilted at an odd angle, peering intently at the vegetation along the path. Seemingly oblivious to all but the vegetation, the sound of splashing water startles him. Glancing towards the river, a brow arches and he pauses his step. "Hello?" Galharth calls out with a small measure of hesitation.

There is another hidden among the silver trees, a silent shadow. The rustle of fabric on forest floor is subtle music to the ear, hardly noticable, but a credible instrument in the day's symphony nevertheless. Sunlight filters down, travels...and slides over feminine form with molten revelation. She is slim, brunette, and crouches amongst a patch of golden flowers. Greenish-grey eyes dancing with wisdom and curiosity watch from a distance. However, it is hard to tell who she watches more closely, her kin or the edain.

As the fair elven voice breaks the din of the rushing water, Nauthcel slow stands and turns towards the ellon. "Mae Govannen," he calls to the edhel as his ashen gaze passes over the one before him. "Though darkness nor light nor time itself be of difference to you, how do you fare?" The words of the Ranger ring kindly while his visage holds a soft grin.

Pursing his lips only a moment, the Clothier hesitates. Crystal blue eyes peer intently at the figure, inspecting all that can be seen. "Your cloak is in need of replacement," the ellon whispers bluntly, offering either an insult or perhaps a hint to his profession. In a louder voice, he adds. "How I might fare, might well depend upon many things. As an example, one thing might well be your purpose here in these lands." %r%rStepping forward, offering only a friendly smile, he lifts his chin. "So tell me, how do you fare, and what brings you to these lands?"

"I have entered Lorien that I may find rest while upon my journey," answers the Dunadan before adding, "Those without a home have no place to perform necessary mending though mayhap I can find such assistance and materials here." Nauthcel does not take notice of the hidden elleth while his eyes remain set on the ellon.

Hesitation fades into a relaxed posture and the friendly smile turns warmer. "Then let me offer welcome." Galharth says with his eyes falling once more upon the cloak. "And for your cloak, you've happened upon one that can either mend or replace, but as I've warned one who might be a brother to you, if it's repaired it shall be washed."

Stepping closer, glancing both north and south along the riverbank, the ellon continues, "Tell me friend, from what news do you have from where you come, and what sends you upon your journey."

Hmm. Ostiel leans down and murmurs something quietly to the little green plant, then reaches up...and in moments has disappeared into the mallorns. She edges towards the river, then closer still, until she is nearly hanging over the pair, concealed by tree branches. Long legs and arms wrap around a sturdy branch, and she lays flat on her stomach, not at all concerned for her delicate gown.

Nauthcel ponders a moment over the question before answering, "I come from the West, over the Misty Mountains in Eriador. What news I came bearing is little that would concern you for it is only of trolls and other foul creatures." A pause hangs in the air as the Ranger continues, "As for where I go, I am on my way to Gondor, particularly Minas Tirith for there I seek wisdom that has been forgotten."

The human's words seem to amuse the clothier. "An answer fairly given, although limiting and filled with assumption that has an equal chance of being right or wrong. Alas, since you journey to Gondor in search of forgotten wisdom, I can not object nor argue with what you've said, so nothing more needs to be said."%r%rTaking one further step, the ellon places a hand upon his chest and bows. "Well met traveller, I am Galharth, and I'm very pleased to meet you."

"I am Nauthcel," the Ranger replies in his own introduction. But, as he is about to continue speaking, one of the hidden guards of the Galadhrim appear. "The Lady has requested you presense, traveler." With a small nod, the Constant turns his gaze from the sentinel back to the ellon. "It would seem we shall need to continue our conversation at another time. Fare well and may the stars shine upon your path," speaks the Dunadan in the fashion of the elves before he sets out after the Order member.

Watching the human depart, a brow lifts with curiosity for several long moments. When all sign of the visitor fades, so too does the look of curiosity upon Galharth's face. Taking a deep breath, the ellon, lowers his head and continues along the path, searching for something within the vegetation. In a matter of moments, he too is gone.

The Cuigrithweg shrugs elegantly and lays her head down upon the smooth grey bark, eyes closing in peace. She does not move for quite some time, soaking up Anor's benevolent rays as they stream through the branches, warm and golden.