11/21/2007
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Evening < About 6:12 PM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 58 Laer <Summer>
Moon phase: New <HIDDEN>
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: Wed Nov 21 16:04:22 2007
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Crossroads in the Forest
You've reached the part of Lorien where the Naith gives way to the Egladil of Lorien, or "angle", which stretches away for many more miles to the south. The pathways here are well traveled, a firm roadway of short golden grass, and lead off in many directions.

Of most notable distinction, it seems that up ahead to the East the forest gives way to some strange sort of hill, though you can't make out the details of it from this distance. To be sure, though, in all directions the Mallorn trees stand guard along the sides of this path, along with whatever it is that seems to have following you and watching you while you have walked through this blessed forest, this Lothlorien, this Dream-flower.

Contents:
Galharth
Legarwin
Maglind
Lostiriel
Thorhur
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On a clear summer's day, Anor begins her low descent from noon-time waning towards the horizon. Within the woods of Lothlorien, the din of activity is ringing clear as both Eldar and animals pass beneath the great boughs of the mellyrn. One of the ellon who walks quietly through the deep forest is the Commander Legarwin. His sapphire gaze passes over the surroundings taking in the beauty and peace of the land. With each step, his multi-colored cloak sways and changes color causing him to appear to be ever connected to the foliage about him.

Kneeling along the edge of the Crossroads, the Tailor Galharth works feverishly over the contents of his pack. "I know the dagger was suppose to be in here...." he mutters softly as he continues to search through the items packed for the trip to Imladhrim. A frown appears upon his face and he leans back. "Ah well, it seems I've forgotten it." Drawing himself upwards to his feet, the crafter leans down to pick up his sword and bel. "Ah well, I suppose my sword will work as well as a knife, even if it might be somewhat of an overkill."

Drawing the belt around his waist, he moves the longsword into it's rightful position against his left leg. As he finishes the buckling, he looks up and catches sight of Legarwin. "Ah! Commander, well met."

As the words of the Clothier resonate in the warm air, a small grin curves the lips of the Commander. "Mae Govannen, Craftermaster. Is everything ready?" The keen gaze of Legarwin passes over the camp area as it is prepared for departure. "Is there anything that I may be able to do to assist you?"

Galharth pauses to look around the camp before responding. "It seems we travel light, and with that intend to travel fast." he says as he turns his focus back to the Commander. "Lostiriel still fears encountering some vile beasts, as it seems that Maglind and I have done just that on nearly all ventures beyond our borders," he says, pausing as he lays a hand upon the hilt of his weapon. "Perhaps the greatest help that you could provide is to aid me with my Longsword skill in this final hour before we leave."

Legarwin listens to the insight of the Clothier while giving a faint nod to the request. "The High Pass is a very dangerous area for that area appears to be flourishing with yrch," says the Commander as his gaze departs for a moment from the ellon to stare at the ground. After a moment in thought, he bends down and picks a flower. Holding it up, he explains, "When in combat you need to be able to land your attacks precisely especially when your opponent is well protected. Your task shall be simple enough: slice the flower as it falls." Taking a step back, the Aderthad tosses the flower into the air before Galharth.

While the Tailors staff is sitting nearby, he clearly moves better now than he has in past months. When the flower is tossed into the air, his right hand reaches swiftly for his weapon. The sound of steel being withdrawn from it's leather housing rings out and the silvery flash darts towards the now falling petals. While not quite center, the organic material is parted in two.

"T'is not a flower that will seek to stop us, for if it were, I'd be victorious each match." Bringing the weapon back towards his body, aiming from left shoulder to right hip he offers the Commander a smile. "I've grown in both motivation and skill, and I dare say that I might actually manage to stand my own should I again fase threat."

"Yet, a flower is small like the gaps between a steel collar and body armor," replies the Commander as he bends down to examine the parted flower and draw a new one. "Your longsword would most likely have nicked the collar and caused a dint in the blade. Try once again yet attempt to form symetrical pieces." Legarwin lets the flower loose into the air and awaits the results.

"Perhaps," Galharth says as he watches the trail of the flower now tumbling in the air. "I have learned that one does not strike and stand ready to receive one in response. Each action must be considered, and preparation should immediately begin for both a possible response, and for the next strike to be made." Crystal blue eyes flicker as the flower meets the level of what might be an Uruk head. His arms flex and he sweeps his weapon forth as if aiming to decapitate.

As the edge of the blade cleaves through the stem, the corner of the Tailor's mouth curls slightly. "I'll not allow an Uruk to best me again. This I swear." the Crafter says with a firmness that clearly speaks of his intent to continue to practice.

The Commander gives a nod to the remark yet his eyes hold a more knowing light. "The yrch are skilled and have an advantage over us - we offer mercy. They care little where their hacks and slashes land so long as it draws blood from their enemy." For a moment, Legarwin looks to the skies before he remarks, "If you find yourself in danger, call upon the great Eagles. They have helped us before and also hold the same hatred as we do for the evil creatures." Finally bending down for a third time, the Gwethir chooses a number of flowers of varying colors. "The last thing I shall teach you for now is to choose the proper targets. The golden pedaled flowers are the ones that you need to slice for they shall represent the vital points of a target. The others signify armor, shield, the opponents weapon. Begin." The flowers are tossed into the air and drift at different speeds towards the ground.

"Mercy?" Galharth says in a low voice that reveals a mixed response. "Not all have mercy left in their hearts, Commander." As the Tailor speaks, he watches the upwards arch in the flight of the flowers. "Captivity, pain, and the hurts of those close, mar thoughts of sweet mercy." His arm moves swift and he stabs forth, impaling a golden flower upon the tip of his blade. "Humiliation of captivity, worry for those well loved, smother any hint of mercy's return." Again the tip of the Longsword flickers forth, slicing left and then down. Petals of gold fall forth to lay upon the crossroads as would snow in the winter. "I would call the Eagles as you say, and any other that might come forth to oppose the beasts that now bring darkness to our door. Worry not Commander, hesitation is gone from me, and I'll not hold back should Maglind call us to arms on this journey."

"Very good. Will you be traveling by foot or on horseback?" asks the Commander as his eyes turn from the Clothier to focus in the distance. "Also, find out what information you can from the Imladhrim about that which passes over the western front of the land. The Rangers should know this information."

Soft humming drifts along the path, and it is not long before Lostiriel emerges, her eyes widening as she looks from Legarwin to Galharth. Her gaze fastens on the petals as they fall to the ground and, having missed the previous discussion, she smiles and calls, "Well met!" The Courier appears much more relaxed than she has in recent days, and a new light of excitement glows in her eyes as she stops next to the two gathered. It is then that her gaze falls upon the Tailor's sword and, tilting her head to the side, she inquires, "Are you perhaps training for the trip to come?" Then, hearing Legarwin speak, her smile turns into a frown. "Is everything alright?"

"While my own preference is to travel by horse," Galharth says with a grin, "we will be traveling by foot." Swinging the tip of his longsword towards his staff, the Tailor chuckles softly. "But then, for obvious reasons, my own mind is clouded when considering preferences."

At Lostiriel's arrival, the crafter smiles broadly, "Ah, and here comes the leader of our troop. Well met, Lostiriel." he says as he sheaths his weapon safely at his waist. "Indeed I do train, for we should always prepare. Did you bring your bow so that Maglind can pester you to improve your skills."

"Well, if you run into trouble, you shall be well protected," replies the Commander as the Courier appears and inquires about the present affairs. "However, if your dangers occur on your travel back to here, send word that there is need for aid and I shall muster those present to meet you. And, if there is still room for change, I would encourage taking steeds. Much easier is it to outrun enemies upon horse than on foot."

"As for my skills, I am afraid they are sorely lacking. However, I did bring it, although I am not sure how advantageous that will prove," the Courier replies wryly to Galharth. "And that is precisely why I am glad to hear that we shall be well protected, should the need arise. I do hope that the need shall not arise, however. As for taking seeds, I agree that it is easier to outrun enemies with them but... Well, what do you think Galharth?" Turning to the Tailor, Lostiriel gazes at him with uncertainty. "Do you think it would be better?"

"Maglind leads, and I have great faith in the Warden," Galharth says with a firmness that speaks volumns of his opinion on the Warden, when he continues, he turns to peer at Legarwin, "He's shown his skill more than once, and to be honest..." he pauses to cough, " I think that perhaps he's undervalued within the Guard," Again the Crafter coughs and looks a moment more towards the Commander.

His long vocalized point delivered once more, the Tailor glances towards the Courier. "Due to a slight weakness in my leg, my opinion is clouded. I've a fondness for horses and would not object to them carrying the primary exertion for our trip." He sighs softly and tilts his head as he gazes on the lady, "On this matter, the decision is yours. I favor the ease of horse travel."

"Galharth," the wind sighs reproachfully, coupled by the whispering of many mallorn-leaves.

"Galharth," a voice says from above, "you are talking behind my back again." Could it be Maglind? A pair of legs is barely visible in the golden foliage. How long has he been listening?

"I too am in favor of steeds though I shall not be making the treck. If you wish, I shall have my horse Celegbellas travel with you for he knowns well the lands between here and Imladris," says the Commander before his eyes travel to the tree-limbs above. "It is never proper to ease-drop upon conversation," says Legarwin in a semi-humorous tone.

"Very well, I believe you are right. We shall take horses with us.... And yes, that would be lovely, Legarwin. I appreciate your help." Then, hearing the wind speak, Lostiriel stops for a moment, eyes lifting. A grin crosses her face and she says, "Well, speak his name and he shall appear. Well met Maglind!"

From the security of the trees one steps forward. His eyes glow with the sheen of a pale light as they dart from one member of the party to another. His manner is pleasant and he moves lithely as his cloak ruffles around him. The sentinel Thorhur salutes the Commander first, then says in a light voice, "Well met everyone. I apologize for the untimely entrance."

"Ack! Maglind! I say the same to your face, so is that truely speaking behind your back?" Galharth says with a laugh as he looks for his friend in the foliage. "Well met and come forth and join, for certainly it's nearly time for us to leave." Grinning broadly he turns to the Commander. "He worries much that I sing his praises to any and all that might hear. The good Warden has saved more lives than I can count and he wonders why I think so highly of him."

A brow lifts towards the Courier. "Who might go forth to the stables to retrieve Celegbellas and others? If we're to ride horses then we gather them quickly for we can't delay, Lostiriel."

Before an answer or a response from any can be received, another joins. "Ah, it seems our party is near completion and departure nears. Well met, Thorhur. We speak now of the trip so your company is welcome."

"I shall go. In the meantime, I ask that everyone make sure that they have all of their preparations ready. We must leave soon, as you say Galharth." Moving back, she offers a nod and says, "I will be back soon." Then, quickly disappearing through the trees, she is gone.

"Horses?" asks Maglind, blushing at Galharth's words. "They would speed our journey, yes. But," and here he looks hesitant through the leaves, "I have not ridden one since I was a boy."

With a small nod, the Commander turns his gaze to the west. Then, from his lips, a high whistle pierces the air traveling into the woods. After some time, the sound of ground being trampled begins toe resonate until a silver horse appears tossing his white mane. The beast slows his speed and steps gingerly towards his master. "Celegbellas, you shall accompany my kin to Imladris and back. Lead them well for you know the way," speaks the Aderthad to the animal. Turning back to the others, Legarwin gives a small nod in response to the salute as well as a wave as Lostiriel departs. To the fears of Maglind, the Commander responds, "If the steed wishes to bear you, you shall do well."

Thorhur takes a step forward. "We are riding to Imladris?" his eyes light up and he smiles as Celelgbellas appears. "Magnificent creatures," he says in a softer voice before falling silent and turning his gaze towards the ground.

"If you've ridden a horse, then certainly you can ride one now. Have confidence Maglind." Galharth says with a hint of teasing. Turning a curious glance towards Legarwin as he whistles he seems rather surprised when a horse arrives. "Well it seems you've gotten your steed, Maglind. Now the rest of us must venture forth to obtain one of our own." Glancing towards Thorhur as the Courier departs, Galharth asks, "Perhaps we two can head towards the stables later to gather mounts for the rest of the party. We need only four."

The Sentinel's eyes narrow, only very slightly for a second, and then return to their wideness. The look on his face is unreadable, but his voice maintains a businesslike tone as he nods briskly. "Very well.

"And I was thrown off," Maglind admits timidly, leaping from branch to ground with nary a glance. Reverently, hesitantly, he approaches the great horse.

Celegbellas stands tall as Maglind approaches remaining still. "Do not worry, he will not hurt you. He is also comfortable in combat situations having been in battles himself," says Legarwin as he sees the wariness in which the Warden moves. "When at the stable, request those steeds whom have seen battle. They shall serve you the best if you find danger is near."

Standing back from the steed, Galharth watches as Maglind approaches the animal. "I will be sure to ask, Legarwin. If we prepare, then perhaps we'll find fortune enough not to face battle."

"Hello," the Warden says to the silvery horse hesitantly. He reaches out a hand to Celegbellas's nose, prepared to fly at any moment. "I can ride," he reassures himself, turning to the Commander. "But I may have to borrow a horse-bow from the armory; it is impossible to shoot a longbow from horseback."

Returning through the forest, Lostiriel moves into the gathering and nods, a serious expression in her eyes. "Very well, are we fully prepared to begin?" Her gaze slides over those around her and a smile lifts the corner of her lips. "I must confess, I am feeling both excited and anxious to start our journey. Let us all hope that it goes smoothly." There is a hint of worry working into her brow, but it quickly disapears and, with a deep breath, she glances at Galharth. "Well, what do you think? Are we ready to begin?"

Remaining silent as he watches the Warden with the horse, the tailor smiles at Maglind tells of his need for a shorter bow. Turning to Lostiriel, he shakes his head. "Nay, we still need to go to the stable for the horses." He pauses to glance between the Warden and the Courier, and then to Legarwin. "I'll go now and be back shortly." Stooping, the Tailor gathers up his staff and then hurrys southwesterly towards the stables, disappearing into the forest.

"By all means," the Commander answers to Maglind. "Equip yourself with what you need for you are the commanding officer if a battle ensues. I trust you will do well." The words of Legarwin are relaxed as he speaks with his gaze showing a respect and confidence in the Warden. "Is there anything else that is needed for the journey?"

Maglind reaches out to caress the steed's jaw, drawing a little closer. "Naught, sir," he says to Legarwin. "Lostiriel and Galharth are experienced couriers, and I trust they will do their best.

"But one more thing I could want," the Warden suggests, bending to take his pack, "and that would be safety. We lacked a healer, but perhaps it would be better to keep the group small."

Barely are the patter of near silent footsteps heard from a copse to the left than a slim, short, fair-haired ellon appears, two bags over his shoulders, white robes visible beneath an open cloak. Iaelen, recent Attendant O' Cuigrithweg, steps onto the crossroads with a faint, sardonic smile, as it is not difficult to overhear Maglind's words. "Forgive me for my tardiness," he announces quietly but firmly. "Ostiel sends her regrets, but feels that she is needed here, in Lothlorien. I have volunteered to travel in her stead."

At the entrance of the healer, Legarwin gives a small grin. "Well, it would appear that your problem has been solved. And, since there appears to be no other need for me, I shall return to my duties. May the Valar watch over you and the company and may you return here safely. Navarie." With the final word, the Commander departs, his path appearing to be towards the Main Guard Talan.

"Ask and you shall receive," quotes Maglind ironically, leaving his pack by Celegbellas's hooves. "Ostiel has sent you, Iaelen? Then join us; I trust her. I will ask that another horse be brought for you."

"My thanks, mellon nin," Iaelen offers pleasantly. Then, eyeing the group for familiar faces, he sits down on a fallen log and proceeds to casually rummage through his packs, muttering to himself with strange facial posturing and quiet sighs. Hmm. Perhaps Ostiel would have been better after all?