================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dusk < About 7:37 PM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 21 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: New <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: Wed Oct 03 16:32:31 2007
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Gladden River, North Bank
Here the river comes boiling from a gorge, and slows, winding in meandering courses ever toward the Anduin. The Misty Mountains glimmer to the west, their peaks reaching toward the heavens. Gently rolling hills stretch to the north, flowers and small shrubs shedding the vestures of cold and finally regrowing after the severe cold. The light breeze around feels warm and muggy and the damp and cool ground crumbles beneath your feet. The ford is a morass, trampled like a cattle wade. Anyone attempting to cross can expect to get muddied and wet.

The murky sky is overcast and dreary. The dusk spring air is warm and muggy around you. The moon is new.

Contents:
Tolur
Ozurr
Thurgrim
Maglind
Erik
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The last fickering light of day dances over the mountain tops to the west. The fading light reflects off the snow kissed peaks, offering the last challenge to the shadows that now grow in the east. To some, dreary, to others the last moment of the days glory. A southern wind blows, bringing the first breath of spring over the lands. Soft chirps from birds settling down for the night can be heard near the river bank, adding to the light whistle caused by the wind blowing through shrubs and grasses.

Standing along the bank, Tolur turns back to the camp. "The trail fades from here!" He calls out in a voice that mingles musically with the wind.

"Aye," calls the reply in elven-tongue, cloaked in grey cloth and shadows. "There are others milling around it ... one would think they danced here." Maglind moves suddenly, and only then does his form stand out against the ground. "How old are these, Tolur?"

They can be heard before they are seen: three men of the Anduin come walking through the forest leading a pony laden with bundles. The first is the a man moving with a curious smoothness on a pair of crutches, the trade cheiftain of the Anduin Village, Erik son of Einar. Following him, leading the pony is his young apprentice and also accompanying the party will be Ozurr.

In his usual youthful energy, Ozurr marches along the trail in a chipper step in front ot the ponty, questioning the crutch-bearing Trade-Chieftain in a hushed, curious voice. "Do you think we will really see Elves, Trade-Chieftain?" The lad is eager, beyond a doubt, an avid look to his features as well as an added spring to his movements. He gazes anxiously at winter-bitten road before them as he speaks.

"A week...." Tolur begins to say before sound is heard, followed quickly by a smell that filters under the southern wind. Turning towards the sounds, the Warden face tilts upwards as he carefully scans the land to the north. Catching movement, he quickly turns to Maglind, "Visitors," he whispers softly to the other Warden as he tilts his head to listen to the strange speech, "What is the command?" he asks with a furrowed brow.

Erik catches sight of the elven camp and then Erik pauses and replies in a soft tone to the lad with him in Eothrik, 'Without a doubt.' Taking a few steps forward, the Beorning man then makes a sort of half bow, as much as he can manage on those crutches of his and greets the elves in their own tounge, "<Sindarin> Well met. I am Erik, son of Einar, Trade Chief of the Anduin Village."

Maglind stands very still, listening to the air with a small grin on his face. "<Sindarin> Stay," he whispers. "<Sindarin> We have nothing to fear from these people."

The Elf turns to the north, and casts his hood over his face. "<Sindarin> Well met," he calls.

A brow rises with surprise as the human speaks in the elven tongue. His hand is on his bow when the Warden Maglind speaks, and he turns towards the other guard and nods to acknowledge the words spoken. Turning back to the human, and speaking in Sindarin, Tolur replies, "Well met Erik, son of Einar. I am Tolur, and this...." he says in a voice as sweet as honey, "...this is Maglind."

Ozurr's breath dies in his throat as the answering call pierces the night air, a sense of almost disbelief and wonder arousing on his countenence, though the foreign words fail to register in the youth. Moments pass, before an eager grin and exhuberation replaces the prior expression of amazement, his wish seemingly fulfilled as he also turns to manage an awkward bow after Erik.

Maglind steps forward, and his grey cloak flutters after him: he is there and he is not. A slender hand rests on his belt, reassuringly far from the sword-hilt that hangs from it. Now he is closer than a bowshot away.

"Good even, Erik," he says, beckoning to the other elven Warden. "We are trespassing on your land, and for that I apologize. Was our presence expected, or was it just discovered?"

Erik nods and says, "<Sindarin> Well met. My companions are Ozzur son of Farulfr, and Birghir son of Bernt." Then having introduced his companions, he steps forward one pace and answers the elf's question, "<Sindarin> It was not exactly discovered, but there was rumor of some visitors lingering in this area so we decided to come see if they were true."

Offering Maglind a furrowed brow, Tolur silently questions the other by mouthing 'expected?' Shrugging his shoulders, he waits not for an answer as he glances towards the humans. Nodding to each human as they are introduced. "Well met, Ozzur," Tolur says in Sindarin, " and Birghir." Bowing his head as he speaks the name of the human, the only words not fully in his native tongue are the names.

Looking back to Maglind, he tilts his head. "We should tell them of the others we travel with so they won't be taken by surprise. And should we...." he pauses to look at the humans quickly. Returning his gaze to the other Guard he finishes his words, "... should we tell them of what we seek?"

The lad appears to be at a lost to speak, merely watching ardently as the exchange passes back and forth, his mouth open wide in delight. No amount of attention from the young man seems to be spared on the actual words of the conversation as his eyes ecstatically look onward at the cloaked figures, his feet tapping excitingly on the ground. He brings the reins around to veer the pony closer to Erik and the elven group.

Maglind nods slightly, looking off to the side before he answers in his own tongue. "There are two more in our company -- one of my kin and one of yours." He spreads a hand to the riverbank and the wide lands. "They are not with us at the moment."

"I hope your borders have been quiet of late. We were hunting, but seem to have lost our quarry." The tones of his voice are soft, polite, bright-edged with uneasiness as he glances to his companion.

As Tolur speaks to Maglind, Erik turns to his companion and informs the lad in Eothrik, "You were greeted and they are now saying something about seeking something. The fair haired one is called Tolur and the other is called Maglind. They also mentioned something about other travelling companions. They have recognized that they are tresspassing onto our lands and seem friendly." Then he pauses to hear what else the elves say before translating to his companion quickly, "Ah, they have two more elves and one man in their group. They are hunting here but have lost their quarry." Then he turns back to the elves to speak to them in their own language.

Erik says in Sindarin, "What is it that you are hunting? You are aware of the local laws against killing animals, I hope..."

Looking to the humans, Tolur's brow furrows as he listens. His lips press tightly together in frustration and he lookes to Maglind. "Do you undersand what they say?" the Warden asks in Sindarin, "Did they understand you?" Stealing a glance at the humans, a frown appears upon his lips. "Can we even trust them?"

Ozurr quirks a broad smile as Erik translates to him. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The excited young man stammers, some of his words failing him, his visage pleased.

Erik grins at his companion's excitement but then looks over to the elves and says softly, "<Sindarin> Forgive us but my companions do not speak Sindarin and we are unaccustomed to speaking common to eachother. I was merely translating your greetings and the other things you have said for them."

Suddenly Erik grows very serious and replies, "<Sindarin> Not to my knowledge. There are rumors of unusual goblin movement elsewhere but this close to home we haven't heard anything. Is that what you are hunting?"

The lad's excitement is broken as he notes the grim note of Erik's reply, whispering curiously to the man beside him. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

"Laws? You speak their language Maglind?" Tolur asks in Sindarin, in a low voice that might only be heard by elven ears, all said while eyeing the humans. Stepping back, and falling silent, the Warden draws nearer to the other. "Let them tell us where the beasts have gone," he says in a low voice spoken in Sindarin.

Erik says in Eothrik, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"Well, they said that they aren't hunting deer or boar, and then they asked if a goblin had passed our realm recently."

As Tolur whispers to his companion, Erik takes another moment to translate for his companion, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

"I was once a guest," the younger warden whispers back.

"Yes, we hunt a horde of the yrch. We saw their tracks and feared that they came to the vales. But it seems they have disappeared into the air," says Maglind ruefully.

Erik looks back to the elves and says softly in their tounge, "Very odd... From where do you hail? How long have you been hunting these golbins?"

The lad's earlier elation over the sight of Elves seems to have been subdued by Erik's words, a small slanting crease beginning to tighten across his lips. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Ozurr suggests in a hopeful, and slightly pertrubed tone.

Clearly growing frustrated in the back and forth of languages, Tolur sweeps a hand towards the tracks that now lay in a muttled mess on the river bank. Looking at the tracks and then towards the humans, he points northward and shrugs his shoulders as if uncertain. Glancing intently at the humans, he waits expectantly for for something to be said, even when clearly disregarding the questions voiced in his own language.

"Our home is our own," Maglind answers courteously, yet the lilting voice is guarded. "They have harassed us for a while, but now we are looking for them."

The narrow shoulders slump. "If none have come your way, Master Erik, then let Araw keep it so. Thank you for letting us pass. Let's leave now, Tolur."

Erik nods and says mildly in Sindarin, "Very well. We will be camping nearby for tonight and tomorrow we will be returning to the Anduin Village. Maybe it is the same group of goblins that we are looking for, as there are some of us scouting the area, searching for the goblin's location... I see though you are in haste, so we will keep you no longer. Farwell." And having said that, the man nods politely.

Nodding in agreement, Tolur looks to the Beornings. Bowing his head, silvery hair falls forward over his shoulder. "Farewell, friends, be well." Turning and drawing his grey cloak close the Warden moves southwards to some unseen sight in the shrubs."

Ozurr gives a sigh of disappointment as he watches the cloaked figures depart, though his eyes still glimmer with some amount of excitement. "It was brief, but never did I thought to meet an elf..." he says with a mixture of sadness, yet hapiness in his tone, with a smile stretching his mouth. "We will meet them again, won't we?" he asks Eritk, his words tinged in wistfulness.

"Impossible to say really," says Erik mildly in Eothrik. Looking to his apprentice with the pony he says, "We need to start setting up camp... Ozurr, will you help Birghir? Right over there should work." He gestures towards a more clear patch of ground.

Ozurr gives a sigh of disappointment as he watches the cloaked figures depart, though his eyes still glimmer with some amount of excitement. "It was brief, but never did I thought to meet an elf..." he says with a mixture of sadness, yet happiness in his tone, with a smile stretching his mouth. "We will meet them again, won't we?" he asks Erik, his words tinged in wistfulness.

Ozurr offers a solemn nod in reply to Erik's words, breathing another sigh before his muddy-brown eyes veer over to look at the indicated ground. "Of course, Trade-Chieftain." he says in Eothrik, a sense of longing still prevalent in his voice. He directs the pony over with the apprentice to the clear spot of ground. "My father will stand on end when I told him what I've seen.", he gives a silent chuckle to himself, beginning to unpack some of the load from the steed.

"Not particularly, but I don't think my father exactly expected me to meet such company so soon. They are strange.. Perhaps that is what makes them interesting." The lad offers with a shrug. Now he begins groping inside some of the containers, pulling out materials for the camp.

Erik nods, "Well... I'm not sure exactly where these elves were from, but if I were to guess I would say that they are of the Lothlorien forest... I've always found them the oddest of all..." and this he says in Eothrik. "They rarely speak much common."

"Lothlorien?" the young man repeats with wonder. He then gives a mirthful laugh. "I suppose I would not know, first time seeing such beings. They speak such a strange languge, the words as if water, free-flowing and soft."

"It's a difficult language to learn..." remarks Erik, watching the two lads as they go about their work. His apprentice just stays quiet and listens.

"It would seem so." Ozurr says in a musing tone as he works, beginning to work with the apprentice to prop up a tent. "Though I would be much obliged someday if you would teach me such a language. It would be a pleasure indeed to learn the language of the Elves."

The lad's grin returns in full, eagerness brightening on his features. "You would, Trade-Chieftain? I would be more than glad to learn such a greeting. It would be a pleasure to speak their own language the next should we meet." Ozurr gives another forlorn sigh, sparing a glance over to the patch of land where the Elves last stood before leaving.

"Ma-ae.. Gov-ann-nen.." the young man sounds out the foreign words, his lips moving to repeat them over and over again as if to familiarize himself with the word. "Mae Govannen." The lad repeats again, this time more smooth, though his pronounciation still shaky, with a triumphant grin. "Mae Govannen. How was that, Trade-Chieftain?"

"Maa-ehh, Govaah-nen?" Ozurr inquires tentatively, glancing back at Erik. "Was that it? It sounds so strange to pronounce." He remarks, with another light laugh.

"It is... and the elves say that we have hopeless accents. But try again. Elongate the first ah sound gently and just lightly slide into the eh, Then the go needs to be a bit further back in theo throat. The nen has the first n slightly long... try it again," says Erik.

"Ok, you have the idea now, but now you need it to sound fluid and natural. As smooth as the flowing of water. What I've told you to stress is very subtle. Listen," and then he demonstrates, "Mae Govannen." To an elf his accent is still pretty bad. To a Beorning it sounds great!

"Fluid and natural.." Ozurr echoes the phrase after Erik, though his voice sounds competely different, the tone almost boyish as he struggles to pronounce the word yet again. "Mae Govannen." He furrows his brow, tongue awkwardly moving as he enunciates.

"It will take practice, but for your first attempt it's not bad," says Erik with a faint smile. The Camp is by now set up and he says, "Alright, now one of you start a fire." Slowly he heads over to ease down onto a rock to sit down.

The young man silently mouths the phrase several times again as he offers a nod to the apprentice, both of them stacking wood at the center of the campsite to build a fire. "Thank you, Trade-Chieftain, for the lesson. It is a phrase I shall not forget. And one I have a feeling I will use again." Ozurr glances back up, an appreciative smile directed to Erik.