A soft breeze blows through the limbs and leaves surrounding the Hall of Crafters. Late is the hour, and yet a light burns within the Weavers Hall as a single ellon labors over several bolts of fabric. Standing tall over the table he seems to be looking for something in particular. With a furrowed brow he pauses as he comes across a bolt of deep green fabric. Carefully inspecting the cloth, the corners of his lips rise slightly as if in satisfaction. Running his long fingers over the fabric, his touch is as gentle and yet probing. "Nicely made..." he comments out loud. With ease he lifts the bolt of fabric from the table and props it against the table.

Returning his attention to the table once more, he resumes his search through the fabrics.

Long before she can be seen, the irritated mutterings of an elleth preceed her entrance into the weaver's den; but Mia it is (and without a doubt).

"Nasty thorns! .... probably ruined.... can't have anything nice!"

And what was, at first, somewhat muffled, now comes through with startling clarity as she arrives at the entrance, the edge of her dress caught up in one dirt-smudged hand. Actually, there isn't much of her that isn't dirty, except for her dress, which, by some strange occurance, hasn't a spot on it.

"I do try to take care," She says to the back of the ellon, "And have been praised on more than one occasion for impeccable grooming considering... well, considering. But look at me!" She wails this last bit, gesturing to her disheveled self as her lower lip trembles. "I'm disgusting!"

"Nay, lady", comes a voice from below, and then Henleg comes into the talan. What is strange in this is that Henleg is no Elf, but a man. Tall, fair skinned but tanned, with a mane of raven hair that falls past his shoulders and eyes of Sea-grey, the apperance of one of the Second-born in Lothlorien is not an everyday happening. "Your fairness cannot be denied by some dirt, just as a single thin cloud cannot mask the majesty of the Sun." To the ellon, a curt nod is given in greeting. "I am Henleg, son of Mathadan", he intriduces himself, in the Sindarin tongue.

From afar, Mia laughs, this is about you: From afar, Curulomion grins. You know me, always welcoming rp. Good to see one so eager to rp. He actually paged me the night before last but I was already engaged. And no sooner did I get on last night and go unidle then he pounced on me. Said he'd been waiting on me. That's an eager one indeed. I think we need to encourage him gently. He's also a good rper

Hands pause their wanderings over the fabric and satisfaction fades from his expression as a visitor arrives within the hall. For an instant he does not move as the surprise visit registers. Certainly, he had heard the maidens distant mutterings, just as he would have heard thunder of a distant storm, but things such as that rarely arrived upon his doorstep. Turning slowly towards the disturbance, Galharth's expression of surprise fades and a brow arches with curiosity. Icy blue eyes widen slightly and he opens his mouth as if to offer some comforting words. No words come forth as his mouth clamps tightly shut in secondary shock as another voice carries along the night air.

Rising to his feet, Galharth glances from elleth to the human and back again. Still, although confusing emotions play upon his expression, a hand draws from the fabric to lay upon his chest. "Greetings and welcome, I am Galharth." he mutters with clear uncertainty. "Um, can I be of assistance to either of you?"

Mia smiles glancingly at Henleg, lips tight at the corners. "You flatter me needlessly, friend, as I can see with my own two eyes the painful truth of my appearance." She raises the gathered skirt in both hands and steps towards the tailor, a tear in the delicate fabric obvious from a few feet away. "I was in the rose garden, pruning and caring for the flowers, when I lost my footing and fell into one of the bushes. All would have been well, but I didn't see one, measley, irritatingly sharp thorn. And look at what it did! It's ruined, isn't it? Utterly, horribly... ruined!" She holds the tear up to Galharth as if in defiance. "Tell me it isn't so. Tell me it can be fixed, I beg of you!"

Henleg bows slightly to Mia, and his eyes then go to Galharth. "Indeed, I was told to come here, for my cloak has several rips and stains from my travels, and I was told that none better than you to fix them, mellon", he says to him. "But I see", he adds, eyeing Mia, "that you have other work to do before you can mend a poor cloak".

Galharth flickers a glance from the lady to the man, and his uncertainty seems to wash away with lack of alarm displayed by Lady Galadriel's Companion towards the human. Blinking twice as if to focus fully upon the dilemma faced by the elleth, the Couturier narrows his gaze to view the tear. Reaching out, he takes the hem of the dress from her hand and without consideration for the fact that the garment is being worn, he begins to inspect the full hem in search for the nearest seam. "Of course it can be fixed, certainly an easy task for anyone within this hall," he says with distraction. "If the seam holds enough fabric to allow for reweaving ...." Letting his words fall silent as a hefty tug of the fabric's hem brings a reminder that the dress is still being worn. "Sorry." He says softly.

Turning towards Henleg a frown forms and he tilts his head in consideration for the cloak, all the while still holding the hem of Mia's dress. "Perhaps you might consider replacement rather than repair?" He says with a slight wrinkling of his nose, which passes almost at the instant it began. "That choice would be dependant upon how long you intend to stay within the wood."

Still wriggling as Galharth searches for the seams, Mia does her best to try and explain to the human the seriousness of the situation. "I am utterly humiliated! Thank Eru the apprentices had just been sent to a class on poultices, else I would have had an audience, and never, NEVER would I have been allowed to live such a thing down! YOu know, there are some who wait for another to make the tiniest misstep, then news it is for all the world to hear! Busy-bodies! And what joy they would have had in spreading rumor of this disaster, my pain turned to folly for the simple minds that chatter on endlessly about trivial matters..." The rest trails off into angry mutterings, punctuated by words such as "dwarf-sniffer", "orc-mother", and even "fell-beast-breath".

"I had to sneak here in silence, hiding behind trees and bushes when an errant sound was heard. It was horrible! And you worry of your cloak?" She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily, "By Yavanna's soul, the Lady, herself, would likely knit you a new one if only you'd ask!"

Dumbfounded and clearly unable to come up with a response to the lady's words, Galharth drops the hem of the dress and shakes his head. "Surely, I can not hope to respond other than to tell you that I will do the best I can to relieve your concerns." Taking a deep breath he purses his lips. "First we'll need to get the dress off you so that I can fix it," he says bluntly as he jerks his head towards a dressing screen where she might step behind should she choose to do so. Turning his gaze to the human, the last words uttered by the Lady's Companion clearly hold some level of significance. "If indeed the Lady herself might knit you a new cloak, then I can do no less than to offer a newly constructed one that might protect you from weather and wear." Lifting an arm, the ellon points to a side room that is within earshot of the main hall. "There within that room, I have several cloaks to choose from that you might take in gift, or if you prefer, borrow, whilst I repair and clean the one you now wear. Look first, and I would be glad to accept your decision after you've had a chance to consider the options."

Mia twitches the edge of her skirt and turns with a toss of her hair and chin held high, walking airily to the screen. "I said she COULD knit one, if only he'd ask. As to whether or not she WILL, well, that is another thing entirely. Besides which, she can't purl as well as she'd like everyone to think. This is what happens when young ladies spend their childhood and most of their adult life wielding bows and swords and riding horses."

She disappears from view, but doesn't let it slow her down a bit as she keeps up an almost constant stream of conversation. It's a delicate material, but then I suppose you already noticed. Suprisingly strong, though, and persistant in avoiding stains, which is why I hesitate so to part with it. I tend to be a little hard on my dresses, as you can see, but it's just a truth I have to accept as I have accepted the responsibility of planting. And I know, leggings might be more appropriate, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I spent enough of my time in pants, playing with the boys and trying to be taken seriously in their little... fraternity." She says the last word almost venomously, just as the dress appears over the top of the screen. "Never again! Well, maybe not never, but certainly not for a very, very long time, and only if I have suffered some sort of horrid head trauma that makes me forget everything and leaves me one step up from a drooling mess." She steps out, a simple white robe clothing her. "And of course you will do your best," She says, eyeing the ellon carefully. "Who are you, again?"

Stepping carefully to avoid stepping in anyone's way, Galharth follows the elleth's retreat behind the screen. "Time, event's, and circumstance, do not always consider those that are thrust into positions in which their wildest dreams would not have carried them," he replies, though not indicating if his reply is in response to comments made of Galadriel, Mia, or something entirely unrelated. "We do what we must, and while not all agree or support what actions you might have taken, I'm sure many more owe a debt even if you are unawares." A soft chuckle escapes the ellons lips as he reaches for the dress as it appears over the screen. "To judge the opinions of a few with such apparent negativity would be the same as calling a rose garden a weed patch after finding a few stray weeds."

Shrugging his shoulders he moves across the room, and sits upon a stool next to a table bearing the wares of his trade. "I am Galharth," he replies simply to the elleth's question. Without glancing up, he speaks softly as he turns the still warm fabric over in his hands. "I believe there is a dressing robe tucked away somewhere back there," he calls out as he nips a small portion of fabric from a seam. Reaching for a slender needle, the ellon begins to weave the small swatch of fabric over the tear, blending the damage from sight.

"Bite your tongue!" Mia says with a laugh, "And do not speak to me of weeds, either of the floral variety or elven!" She finds a vacant stool and perches herself on it, elbows bent and resting on her knees, chin then resting upon her hands. "It was a gift," she says after a moment's silence. "And more so than injured pride, it means the world to me to have it back and good as new. So thank you. Others may owe a debt to me, but I shall owe one to you. NOT payable in the wearing of pants, however."

She strains her eyes to see what he is doing, but the distance and angle make it difficult. So, little by little, she edges the stool closer and closer, still, until deciding to throw subtlety to the wind as she drags the seat closer to the ellon and his work with a loud screeching noise. "Sorry..." she says with a sheepish grin. "I just wanted to see... where did you learn this skill? You move with confidence as if you had been doing this forever, yet a more unfamiliar face I have never seen. And I tend to pride myself on knowing those of Lothlorien, whether by name or simply by sight. But sometimes... well, none of us are perfect, are we?"

Continuing to work upon the fabric, weaving individual fibers of the patch into the fabric around the tear. The repair goes quickly and it almost seems as if Galharth's hands are working magic, fading the damage from sight. "No debt is owed, I assure you." He says softly. Pausing a moment, he looks up and shakes his head. "I'd never consider offering you anything other than a garment that offsets your natural attributes." Looking back down at the repair, he resumes his task. "I would however suggest a split skirt at the very least."

With the fabric woven, he reaches out an places the needle upon the table and lifts a small pair of scissors. "I've been constructing clothing all my life, but the truth is, I'm newly inducted into the Crafters Guild. Most I know is self taught, or taught by my own mother's hands," he explains as he gently nips the stray strands of fabric from the repair sight. Refreshing his smile, he looks up once more. "Unfamiliar? Perhaps, I've been here, been seen, only chosen to remain unnoticed. Truly there are many more deserving of attentions, and I need none myself." Tilting his head slightly his icy blue gaze peers intently at the elleth's face. "Yet I know you, not by acquaintance, but by reputation and deed. I wonder, is there anyone who knows not of the Lady Mia, Companion to the Lady Galadriel?"

"Known for what, though? The company I keep?" Mia rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "Don't misunderstand me, please, as there is nobody else in this world that I trust or care for more than she, but is it not a bit odd to be known simply for that? I sometimes wonder if I wouldn't prefer being known as a fabulous gardener, or something more substantial. It's sort of like being known as having the shiniest hair, or the brightest smile... it is so much fluff. But would I trade it?" She pauses and looks as if she is thinking hard, but it lasts for only a moment. "Never. The peace of mind and guidance she gives is well worth anything I might have to go through."

Head cocked slightly as she watches the amazing transformation of the dress, she continues to question the ellon. "Annonimity, though... what is that like? It has been quite some time since I was plucked from relative obscurity and I was young... I can't say I fully remember it. First with the healing, then with the Order... You know, I spent some time away. Traveling. Not really staying anywhere. That was about as close as I have come to that feeling since childhood, but I hated almost every minute of it. Not being known in your own home is one thing, not being known out in the world is another. I think the one thing I found out about myself is that I'm not overly fond of "camping". First you have to carry everything with you, and pack and unpack it almost daily, and it's just... not fun."

"Is that what you think? That you are known by the current company you keep?" Galharth says with a tone of sincere interest. "You are known by many for much. While I spoke not of all that I've heard or read, it is the here and now for which is easiest to identify you with." Looking down once more at the repair work, he smoothes a hand over the patch, occasionally nipping at some unseen yet felt thread. "As is with the Lady of the Wood herself, she has much within her past, but in the present, we are all honored with her wisdom and experience of all that she was and did in the past." Turning over the fabric, he continues to finalize the repair.

"Anonymity? It is as a sense of comfort, being at ease with your surroundings, and happy with your place within the world," he responds in a distant voice. "For the time being, I am secure with it, and relish the opportunity to learn and gain skills for a possible path change that seems to grasp us all at some point in life." Smoothing the fabric one last time, he offers the gown back to Mia. "There, the task is done."

Mia squeels with delight as she takes the dress from the tailor and holds it up for her inspection. "It is perfect! Why, you can't see a thing! It's... amazing!" She twirls with the dress in her arms and finds her way back to the screen.

As she re-dresses, she continues their conversation. "Many there are that have conveniently forgotten my role in Lorien during my absence, and fewer still who acknowledge that any of it ever happened. That, my friend, is an odd feeling. Strange as it may seem, I have had to ask others to make sure that it really did occur, and that it was not all just some dream. But finding people... hrm, not as simple as you might think... which has only added to the questions. Galadriel thinks it amusing that I must sometimes have her guide me back to reality... but then, so much has changed."

She emerges and spins around, the dress flaring at the hem. "I can't see it with a split in the skirt... and I don't know if I would want to. It is easy enough to move in, and offers coverage enough for modesty's sake, but any more and I might as well be wearing a fishing net with a button."

She looks to Galharth and curtsies, "My thanks, both for your skill with a needle and your comforting words. Not that I enjoy talking about myself, or having others talk about me, but it does help to reinforce the truth within my own mind... even if others are blind to it."

"Does not reality vary according to perception? I can not say why deeds of the past are forgotten or why there might be a refusal to acknowledge that which might occur." Galharth says with a shrug as he rises to his feet. Glancing towards the side room to check the progress of his other visitor. "One task complete!" he calls out. Turning he takes a step towards the table containing bolts of fabric. Lifting the green fabric propped against the table he turns to show the elleth. "I'd be glad to make you a skirt and perhaps a full outfit that might better serve your gardening while still providing beauty and femininity. I offer that and perhaps a chance to talk again in the near future as it oddly comforts me as it seems to have done for you."

Finally, henleg emerges from the side-room, a cloak of elven grey in his hands. "I would like this one, mellon", he says to Galharth, "for mine has many cuts and rends from the thorny bushes and the rocks of the mountains", he adds. To Mia he gives a smile and a nod.

"Well, I cannot say that this is entirely inappropriate...." Mia replies, indicating her garment. "And I am rather fond of dresses more than pieces... skirts and other things, I mean. But if you wished to make something, I would be certain to wear it and care for it. And if, lets say, you did wish to make a dress and I did wish to wear it, then I am sure fittings and other instances would arise where conversation would arise, and I would be quite content with that." She pauses and cocks her head, "But that dark a color? Really?"

She turns a raised eyebrow to Henleg and querries, "And here I always thought I looked best in pastels..."

Turning to Henleg, the ellon nods. "Then it is yours, gladly given with the hope it serves you well." Dropping his gaze to the human's currently worn cloak, he furrows his brow. "Would you like me to ..... dispose of your old cloak?" he asks with strained politeness.

Clearing his throat, he again turns to Mia. "Green would suit both skin and eye coloring well, and it would prevent any stains from appearing due to work within the garden. All aside, let me make it and if it doesn't please you, I'm sure someone will be glad to take it." Glancing now between his visitors he sweeps a hand towards a pair of chairs. "Forgive me, I failed to ask if either of you wanted refreshment whilst I set to work upon your clothing needs. May I offer either of you tea?"

"Well, I wouldn't expose this fine garment to the road, knowing full well how much time and effort was put in it", Henleg replies. "If you could have my cloak repaired, I'd be much indebted to you". He smiles still, as he adds, "Well, some wine would come fine, for I have had nothing but water snce I left Imladris".

Mia sighs, "Alas, I wish that I could stay. But the roses still need pruning, and the other gardens need tending before the sun rises. But work on the dress and send word to me when you need me and I will be here before you know it! And Henleg... please... take the cloak. Unless the old one holds some sentimental value, it is a mass of stinking wreckage. Though... Galharth does seem to work wonders..." She shrugs and turns to go, leaving the tailor with a last though before disappearing, "And I don't stain my clothing, friend, no matter what my profession. Not being presentable is... well, it is, perhaps, one of the worst atrocities I can imagine. Even marching into battle, my boots shone like the sun at noon on a cloudless day! You might end up covered in blood and gore by the end of the day, but it never hurts to present yourself at your best!" And with that, she is gone.

Galharth looks almost disappointed as he looks upon the human's cloak. "As you wish, I'll be glad to both clean and repair it. And, along with Mia's urging, the option to keep the cloak is open with sincerity," he says as he watches the lady leave. Setting down the bolt of fabric, he turns and moves across the room. Pausing in front of a cabinet, he opens the doors, swiftly withdrawing a dusty bottle of wine. Next he withdraws a glass and silently pours a glass for both himself and his guest. The silence seems to hang heavily around the ellon, as if he's somewhat uncomfortable now that the elleth is gone. "I know little of humans," he blurts out, "but I am curious. You say you come from Imladris? Do you live there or were you visiting?" He says as he crosses the room with an offered glass of wine.

"I shall accept then your fine gift, mellon, and I promise I will take as good care of it as I can. Yet, the road is my home, and little time is given to repair and care for clothes, when you're trying to duck from trolls, and battle orcs", Henleg replies. As galharth comes with wine, the Ranger smiles. "Imladris I called home for much time... well, at least, much time for us Men", he says, "but now the road is my home, I guess. Yet, I go to Imladris from time to time, to recover from wounds, or when I'm in need of some peace of mind and soul".

Tilting his head slightly, "As you might have heard, I spoke with the Lady Mia about changing roles over time. For all that I hold dear, I can not fathom the lot of a human who's days are numbered from birth." Holding his head upright, curiosity is clear and apparent upon his face. Then as quickly as the curiosity appears, it seems to fade. In it's place a soft cuckle admits from his lips. "How naive my words must sound, especially to one who lives among those of my own kind who better understand you."

"I am glad you've decided to accept the cloak as a gift, oddly I find great satisfaction in the giving. I've never actually left the wood, but I my curiosity seems sated with the knowledge that something I've made goes forth." Shrugging he offers Henleg the wine. "Perhaps one day I'll follow that which I've made, though honestly I doubt that with your words of recovery from wounds."

Henleg bows slightly as he accepts the wine from Galharth. "Our days might be counted in Middle Earth, yet if the tales that come from those who brought wisdom withthem from the West are true, the One himself destined for us another place, as our spirits are unbound from the circles of the world. Where we go no one knows, not even the Wise of the Eldar, 'tis said... and that is in part why many of the lesser Men, and some whom I call kin, fear death. Yet, death is but a voyage to new lands, unknown to all until weget there", he adds. "Perhaps it's a better place, free from all the toil and dangers of Middle Earth... a place where one can truly be free and happy, without fear of any shadow".

Sipping from his own glass, Galharth purses his lips as he savors the wine. "The unknown brings forth fear, and yet the known can be feared as well. There are some among my kin who give in to what they think is their fate to go west, while many continue to either resist or open themself to the unknown of what the lands might offer. There are those more wise than myself who've considered both our kind, so perhaps I should leave the consideration of such things to them." Chuckling softly he again lifts his glass to his lips. "I have an appointment with the coming dawn, so I can not spend much time speaking with you to gain more knowledge, for that I am sorry. Perhaps if you spend some time within our borders we'll have a chance to speak again soon."

"I shall remain here indeed", Henleg says, as he finishes the glass of wine and sets it down on a nearby table. "I will remain within Lorien for some time,and then set forth. I came to check on the activity of the yrch, and i found none. yet, it's only early spring, and those beasts will probably still be hiding in their dark holes. So, I shall see you again, Galharth. Namarie!". And with that, the Ranger leaves, the sound of his footsteps quickly fading.