================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 12:41 AM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 19 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Last Quarter <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 18 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3042>
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RL time: Sun Oct 21 10:13:59 2007
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Library
A moderately sized talan for Lorien's scribe and that serves as the Galadhrim's "library". The chamber looks smaller than it really is, however, due all the furniture that fills the space! The center of the room is dominated by a large table that is surrounded by several chairs, and except for an open window, a partition, and a couple small pieces of furniture, all the wall space is filled by shelving. In one corner, a small writing desk has been placed.

Contents:
Galharth
Aluirwen
Thorhur

The night is deep upon Caras Galadhon, but the stars in the heavens sparkle and shine, lending their light to chase away some of the shadows. It is to the night and to these stars that song is raised this evening, and traces of song, some merry, some reverent, and some more wistful, find their way into the talan where is held the library of the Galadhrim.

This talan, though, is better-lit than the wood without, for a small lamp sits upon the large table, a gentle golden light emanating from it. The lamp is not alone, though, for an elleth is present as well; the linguist Aluirwen stands in front of one row of shelved books, seeming deep in thought. She runs a finger along the spines of the books of one shelf, until she give a slight 'Aha!' and slides one book from the shelf, flipping it open with a smooth motion. Her brief excitement seems dampened, however, after a moment. "Ah, but this cannot be the whole of..." she breathes.

As someone speaks, the Tailor Galharth glances towards the sound, diverting his attention from his own search. While his eyes shift away, his long fingers remain against the spines of the tomes he searches. "You are not alone in that thought, mellon." the Crafter says softly. "Too often of late, I've searched these shelves and found little or nothing of what I needed."

Glancing once more towards the tomes that rest under his fingers, he gently taps them. "Like this eve, I had hoped to find something by approaching my search at a different angle." the Clothier says with a hint of disappointment, "but, clearly our library holds nothing of the topic I now search."

A slight sigh is the first reply of the Linguist to the words of the Tailor, and the elleth turns her grey gaze upon Galharth, surely disappointment to be glimpsed upon her expression.

"Aye, it seems that mine own search is nigh fruitless as well..." says Aluirwen, easily yet gently flipping closed the book in her hands; and her words, though they are as lilting as her wont, mimic the regret upon her mien. "And what in what subject do you find our library deficient, mellon? If I might inquire, that is," she continues, query in her words and question displacing some of the disappointment in her eyes.

From his spot in the corner, concealed partly by a shelf, Thorhur stands silently, reading a thin book. When he hears the voices of others he sticks his finger into the spot where he left off and turns to see who is speaking. Recognizing both elves he smiles kindly and without moving he says, "Well met Aluirwen, and you Galharth. Could I assist you in looking for anything? I know where most everything is from my long hours here."

"Ships," Galharth replies. Pausing to offer a nod in greeting towards Thorhur, he adds, "Ships, boats, water travel on the Anduin, water commerce, and water accidents. I can think of little other ways to identify the remains of the ship at our southern most point." Lifting a hand towards the Sentinel, the Tailor becons him to join. "Do join us Thorhur, and while I appreciate your offer, I fear that I am close to giving up on the libraries here."

Pausing, the Clothier glances from ellon to elleth as he steps away from the shelves to draw closer. "I had little luck in Isengard, mostly due to the limitiation of not being able to personally inspect the tomes, but I think now is the time to seek northwards." Rubbing his hands together to brush off the dust gained during his search, his expression grows stubbon. "Perhaps the Beornings, or the folk in Rivendell will have some record of the ship."

The gaze of the linguist shifts toward Thorhur, where she lends a nod and a smile, perhaps in remembrance. "Likewise, Thorhur," says Aluirwen, nodding again toward the Student, "I know well this library myself, and I have all but searched every book for what I seek. Though perhaps the search of the Craftsmaster seems of more precedence." Perhaps of her last words she seems not wholly convinced, but she speaks them honestly enough, turning her attentions again toward the Clothier. "I doubt that the Secondborn would have any information that we have not," continues the linguist, "but perhaps," and this 'perhaps' is spoken with much more emphasis than the other words, "if you find not here what you seek, perhaps you might find some mention in the tomes of Imladris."

"Ah well, I'm sorry I can not stay. I will probably be needed in the Guard Talans soon. I was just looking for some reading. Until our next meeting." With a slight bow the Sentinel smiles and with a brisk pace exits the Talan silently.

Galharth nods slowly. "What might be held by the secondborn has likely passed into legend over time, yet still hands in the days of old, if not still in the memory of some for our own kind." The Tailor says as he leans upon the nearest shelf for support. "The moments of consideration are past, I think. Now is the time to begin planning."

Lifting a hand to acknowledge Thorhur's departure, he waits a moment before returning his attention to Aluirwen. Tilting his head, as thoughts of his own research within the Library come to a close, the Crafter peers intently at the Bard. "And what is it that hold your attention? I claim no mastery, but I have in fact spent many hours in the Library of late, so I might have come across something."

"Farewell!" calls Aluirwen, the word barely sounding before Thorhur has disappeared from the talan. The eyes of the linguist follow this departure, lingering briefly before they return to Galharth, perhaps seeming to consider the Clothier carefully.

"Of mine own search, I fear there is little that you may know, mellon," says she, a faint sigh following as her grey gaze flickers downward to the book yet in her hands. "Greatly does it trouble me that there are not transcribed more lays and poems of the Laiquendi and of the Silvan people from which the Dinlym descended. I had hoped that I might find a tome here, long forgotten, but, alas, as yet my searching has been in vain."

"Was there not a time that Silvan thoughts, histories, and memories, were all put forth into song?" Galharth asks with a slight frown and glance towards the shelves of books that now hold him in balance. Lifting his free hand, almost defensively, his frown disappears into a slight smile. "Be warned in how you take that statement. My life has focused on such things that rarely find their ways into a tome, save for the times that receive mention. We teach through action and experience, not through written lessons."

Pausing, the Tailor's brow furrows slightly and he looks to the Bard with thoughtful intensity. "Do you think that the information which you seek could be found in Imladhrim?" He asks, "Perhaps you could join me if I can convince the Lord or Lady to allow me to set forth northwards."

The glirdan does not seem to take offense at the words of Galharth, though perhaps a touch of confusion colors her expression. "Aye, indeed, there are songs, but so few, I have found, have been recorded in written form though they rest yet vivid in the memories of those who dwell here in the Wood," explains Aluirwen, drawing the book she is holding into the crook of her arm, where it seems to rest comfortably. "The lays which interest me most are those in the Silvan tongue..."

At the latter proposal of the Clothier, however, the expression of Aluirwen greatly changes, for her eyes widen with surprise, perhaps incredulous, and her words are filled with the same. "Join you on a journey to that valley?" she questions, her surprise fading somewhat. "I daresay it would take much... much, indeed... for me to wish to depart from beneath the boughs of our Lorien. Though I would be curious to speak with the Laiquendi that dwell there in Imladris," she continues, her words slowing, perhaps almost hesitant.

If hesitation is detected, the Tailor does not acknowledge it. Instead he smiles. "There is no promise that I can convince either Lord Celelebor, or the Lady Galadriel. I've had little sucess on my vetures outside our lands, so they might well be hesitant to let me travel so soon." Shrugging his shoulders, he limps towards the table where his staff rests. Reaching for the staff, he plants it frimly on the talan floor and adjusts his weight using the aid. "I would be glad to travel with a fellow researcher should the blessing be given, so please do consider it."

Moving slowly towards the exit, the Tailor turns and nods. "If you would like to discuss this more at a later time, I should have time tomorrow after I'm done with fittings. Till then good eve." With that, the crafter turns and disappears from the Library.