================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dusk < About 7:11 PM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 45 Laer <Summer>
Moon phase: Full <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: Sat Nov 17 08:24:01 2007
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Alcove
A shadowy alcove beside the tall living wall of shrubbery which stretches up protectively around the city of Caras Galadhon. The wall is constructed of thick green leaves with a central core of thick ancient branches which have twined together over hundreds of years. Intermingled with the leaves are slender vines which nestles small white flowers in and amongst the greenery. As you stand beside the wall, the sense of life is as strong as the delicate fragrance of the greenery. Within the wall is a small ladder, nearly hidden within the thick leaf cover. A Guard Talan is well-hidden among the boughs about twenty feet above.

Contents:
Galharth
Ostiel
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The gates are already in shadows as dusk sweeps over the land. Deepening shadows along the high green wall of shrubbery create a strange sight for any wandering nearby. The air is still inside the city gates, and even moreso in the areas tucked into the living wall. Sound seems muffled in the Alcove, yet the occasional note of song can be heard.

Settled into the alcove, the Tailor Galharth seems to be entertaining himself by watching others pass by as they walk the roadway. When a pair of birds flutter nearby, he draws his attention to watch the ariel acrobatics.

Save for the occasional whisper of melodic voices, succinct and professional, the platform above has remained hidden in auditory as well as visual fashion. Unless a passerby was well acquainted with the layout of Caras Galadhon, he may not even be aware of the talan's existence. However, as Anor sets and the traffic below decreases in volume, activity abruptly spikes above the shrubbery.

At first the voices are muffled, hushed, the speakers obviously wishing to not be heard. But as the conversation continues, the eldar involved allow their tone to grow louder, enough to be discerned by those below, even if their words are not clear enough to be understood.

Rising voices draw the Tailor back towards the roadway. His eyes flicker briefly over the figures walking, until his gaze finally settles upon those drawing his attention. Shifting his position to gain a better view of who these folk might be he leans out of the alcove.

Though Galharth peers for a glimpse, there is really no need for the movement, for abruptly the vocalist draw nearer. A cloaked figure begins to descend the rope ladder in great haste, shrouded in shadow, grey fabric, and an overriding air of tension, strong enough to smell. Abruptly the voices halt.

A sigh drifts down from above, more whispers, that send another eldar down after the first, this one unconcealed, long of limb and pale hair, dressed in the uniform of the Order.

Turning to face the descending figure, Galharth furrows his brows with curiosity. "Well met, mellon," the Tailor says, "Is all alright?" he adds softly as his focus is drawn to watch the next descending figure.

Certainly the Tailor is heard, but his voice is not immediately responded to, as the two eldar move quickly, single-mindedly towards separate goals. The first lands at last on the ground in a flash of pale skirt and calves, heading for the walkway nearby on swift feet. The second is not far behind, jumping the last distance and giving pursuit. Across the lawns of green he pursues her, longer and thicker legs quick to overtake her smaller form. "Mellon nin," he murmurs at last, grabbing a slight shoulder firmly, "Please wait. I fear for your safety otherwise. I fear what you may do."

Silence.

"All is not alright, as long as this world continues to breed cruelty and malice," the she-elf finally returns to the Tailor, and perhaps he might recognize this voice as one decidedly familiar.

"Ah," the Tailor replies in a soft voice after a moment of hesitation. "I know not what I can say, for the world is as it is," Sighing lightly he dips his head so to peer into Ostiel's face. "What manner of cruelty and malice do you speak of? Has something happened?" Again Galharth pauses his words as if he'd wish to say something more. His eyes flicker over her features, as if searching for some answer to his question.

"Yes," Ostiel replies, tone soft and chill, like the first snow of winter. She lowers the hood, face pale, but calm. "The border patrols have sent word of a skirmish in the outer wood. Oh, for peace once more! But that is not the whole of the worry." The guard steps back, hand dropping from Ostiel's shoulder. "Two of those dearest to my fea are missing from the count. My Ada, friend Belation, and two others have been reported as captured, injured, or worse perhaps?" She frowns deeply, eyes closing. "I am wearied of turmoil...enough of despair, of loss! Not idly do the autumn leaves fall, not idly does Anor rise. Not idly will I sit by, waiting for weary soldiers to find those I love. Nay...I will go to them, and I will scourge the wood 'til I either recover their spirits, or recover their bodies." The passion in her voice causes the Sentinel to stiffen. She sighs, shaking her head. "Do not fear, mellon. I go now to my naneth, that she may be given comfort."

Shock appears upon the edhel's face and he pales considerably at the word of possible capture. "Was this an official report? Surely Guards of experience would know the paths better than most so to divert attackers and circle around to or end up upon a different border." Concern is clearly written in Galharth's expression as he steps forward. "Ostiel, you can not go forth now, for only those armed with both weapon and experience could possible find an experienced Guard. Better that you wait for word of the search and perhaps have faith in the skills of those you love."

Shaking his head, the Tailor looks down. "Alas, this news is most foul, and just when I had hoped to ask you to journey with us to Imladhrim." Looking up, sincerity flickers in his eyes. "If I can do anything, please, ask me and I will surely give what I can."

"The report could be wrong, certainly," Ostiel admits with a sigh, hope flickering in her eyes. "It is my prayer that this is so...though I do not trust to hope." She looks down, sighing. "I thank you for your friendship, Galharth. You have been most helpful to me, mellon nin, and you have my gratitude in full."

"News of such things would indeed be upsetting, even for those not as close as you are," Galharth says soothingly. "Again, the matter is most grave, for consideration has made it clear that we need to take a Healer with us on our journey, and with such worry in your heart we can not ask you to fill such a need."

"Still," the ellon says looking towards the roadway, "It's a number of days until we leave, would you like me to go to the Border to see if I can gain more current news of those missing?"

Suddenly, Ostiel chuckles in a tone both wry and warm, though her eyes flash with annoyance. "You know perfectly well that I would go with you. No frail bird of an elleth am I, Galharth, but one strong of fea, if not of flesh. Please, do not mistake me for anything else."

Withdrawing one hand from his ever present staff, Galharth lifts a finger towards Ostiel, "Aye, I would have counted upon you agreeing to journey with us, but let us first determine if the news you've heard is final or perhaps preliminary in nature." Pausing to look upwards at the darkening sky, he purses his lips as if in thought. "I will be honest, and say this not to reassure, but as fact. I suspect that the official report has not yet reached the city. It is a matter of timing." Turning back to look upon the Attendant, he offers a weak smile. "Let us hear first, before your name is officially added to the roster of those who leave in a few days."

Smiling, Ostiel shakes her head. "I was not refering to Imladhris, but certainly, I would go with you if all was well. But for now, I must see to my mother...unless you would wish to accompany me?" This is offered quietly, and from the look upon the Cuigrithweg's face, she does not expect acceptance.

"Nay, let me go and check with the the Royal Court." Galharth says after a moments thought. "Perhaps when I gain official word I'll stop by. Hopefully with good news." Placing his hand upon his chest he bows his head slightly. "Till then dear lady, hold fast to hope." With that said, the Tailor departs the alcove and heads towards the stairs, disappearing into the shadows of night.