================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 11:33 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 25 Echuir <Stirring>
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: Thu Oct 04 21:51:22 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 dry and the damp
and warm 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 sky is clear. The morning spring air is warm and dry around you. The moon is
not visible.
Contents:
Tolur (Temped by Galharth)
Maglind
Angroch
Glinraen
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Morning rises, shimmering over the dry lands just released from winter. The
Gladden frothes at the banks, shining blue and white and gold.
Here upon the banks, a grey cloak stands dull against the bright backdrop. Head
bowed, sword slung over one shoulder, hands tracing the dirt, the slender figure
sits at the side of the Gladden, facing the south.
"At least they're gone." Tolur says as he approaches Maglind from the camp. "For
now, that means a little quiet time along the border." Coming to a stop near the
Warden, the other Guard lifts a hand from beneath his cloak and draws back his
hood. As he does, the fair haired ellon turns his face to the east, almost as if
to welcome the morning sun. "Will we be heading back soon?" He asks, turning
once more to look upon the other.
Early spring brings the woodland animals out of hiding from the bitter cold. The
river's song is loud from the swelling of newly melted snow. One bird's song can
be heard rising up into the air. The sound comes from down the river bank and
after a few moments, it is silent. Perhaps it waits for it's mate.
"I think it time. We venture too far, we shall undoubtably stumble upon those
whom we wish not," comes the low raspy voice of the Iron Horse of the North, his
words soft, hardly audible over the noise of the river.
The human strides forward without apparent purpose, pausing at the bank of the
river. He glances east, squinting, before looking down at the river and
kneeling. He runs one rough hand though the water. "Already perhaps we have
encountered more than those sponsoring this trip have wished..."
Maglind sighs and gathers a handful of dried mud in his hand, crushing it to
dust. "Yes. We should go now, before we become the local attraction. And before
the Commander wonders where we've gone."
The warden unsheathes the sword absently, watching light glance off the thin
steel. "It's ... disappointing. We didn't even know where they came from."
There is no more birdsong. Perhaps the voices have scared it or them off. The
woodland creatures of tree and bush are still about for though there is not much
wind, there is a rustling to denote movement.
His hand in the cool water, Angroch glances sidelong. "The birds sing not," he
says, voice softer, yet.
He stands slowly, folds of his leather coat flowing over his knees like a supple
waterfall until he is tall, coat straight. "A fortunate time to draw your steel,
Maglind. Mayhap we use it. Hither comes a visitor."
"At least we learned a little, did we not?" Tolur says as he glances from edhel
to human. "So perhaps it was worth venturing further north than we expected." A
frown forms upon the ellon's lips as he reaches for both arrow and bow. "Could
this be the Beornings?" The Warden asks as an arrow is knocked against the
slender string of his weapon.
"At least they are gone ... or not." Maglind stands slowly, stretching and
pulling sword free in one feline movement. The proud point dips in the mud
reluctantly, but the warden calls in the common tongue: "Who are you? Show
yourself."
A soft trill of laughter can be heard from the brush. And then a hooded and
cloaked figure steps out from the wan shadow of a tree. Hands out, the woman
says. "Stay your hand, mellon. My husband did know it was my call, I think." The
hood is pulled back with a hand and a blue-grey gaze studies the elf with the
bow carefully. She steps fully out. "I am alone. Were you not expecting me?"
That steel gaze goes now to the man. The eyes narrow slightly, as she takes in
his appearance. Still she makes no further move. Perhaps she waits for the ellon
who spoke to acknowledge her.
Tolur's brow forms a V as Maglind speaks in the rough, unbecoming tongue of the
humans. Lifting his bow, and drawing the string taunt, he takes aim at the
source of the sound. His eyes open slightly, revealing surprise at the laugh,
but the words remain unclear. Holding his aim, his eyes flicker towards Maglind
for some signal to shoot or stand down.
"Husband...?" echoes Maglind in this rough tongue, frowning. The slender blade
lowers; he reverts to his Sindarin: "You are husband and wife?"
Bright eyes darting to Tolur, he steps aside, a leader turned watcher.
Laughing, the Iron Horse motions with his palm down for Tolur to lower his bow,
"Aye," he says to Maglind in Sindarin, "You need not part from your fair tongue.
She speaks it as native as I, though more fair."
Angroch walks forward, holding open his arms, "The birdsong heard was that of my
love, Glinraen the West Messenger. I expected her, but not this far north. My
luck holds true."
Lowering his bow, and releasing the tension on the string. Saying nothing, the
Warden steps back and quietly returns his arrow and bow to his back. When the
lady's name is given, Tolur's voice returns. "Well met, Glinraen. I am Tolur,"
the Guard says as he places a hand upon his chest and bows his fair head in
greeting.
Glinraen, so named, gives her husband a reproachful look and then walks forward
to greet him. As she stands in the circle of his arms, she turns to the two
elves and says in their tongue. "I am sorry that you were not warned of me." She
holds both with her gaze and continues. "Well met, indeed, Tolur." She inclines
her head as well. After a moment she says. "Would you have me in your company?"
Her gaze drifts to the other elf, who has not spoken since when she stepped from
the brush.
At this, Maglind visibly relaxes. He returns sword to sheath, bowing slightly to
the woman. "Well met. I am Maglind."
"He glances to Tolur and then to Angroch. "If your husband would have you with
us, then I will not object. But we are only returning to the south."
After embracing his wife, Angroch steps back and takes her in with his dark,
grey eyes. He glances towards his firstborn companions, "I am always missing
part of myself when without the West Messenger. So much so that, while I
expected a reunion among the glow of the late winter mellyrn, this scouting trip
I assumed she would not track. How remiss a husband to assume his spouse could
not find him anywhere, regardless of stealth used."
He laughs at this, genuine mirth upon his oft somber countenance. To Maglind, he
speaks, "Aye, I would have her join us, and would never even think of any other
answer."
Tolur chuckles slightly at Maglind's words, "Dare you give Angroch the call to
have his wife join us or not? No man, nor elf for that matter would say no."
Nodding his head towards the man as he answers, the chuckle dies but the smile
does not. Turning to Maglind, he lifts a brow. "Would you have me prepare the
camp if we're to leave?"
Maglind purses his lips, trying to hide a smile. "It seemed more fitting to
force the decision upon him."
The warden dusts bank-mud off his cloak awkwardly. "Yes, let us cross the river.
We will not go farther north than is our responsibility."
"Cruel, indeed," the Iron Horse says, laughing with the elves. At the mention of
more task-related issues, he nods and moves towards the camp.
"I, for what it is worth, am satisfied that your land is safe from the current
threat. It is your decison, though--herein I put the choice on you!--for I am
but an assistant on your mission."
"The matter seems settled, let us return to fairer lands." Tolur says with a
voice that sings with agreement. Glancing back to the camp, and then to Maglind,
he adds. "Let me go and inform Thorhur that we return, and then we can be on our
way." Without waiting for an answer the Warden quickly sets off towards what
seems to be a shadow on the opposite side of the camp.
"Then I have no more to say." Maglind rests a hand atop the sword-pommel, gazing
north a moment, ere quick steps take him back to the grey tents.