================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Twilight < About 8:06 PM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 61 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>
---------------------------------------------------------------------
RL time: Thu Nov 22 08:42:11 2007
=====================================================================
Anduin Vale, North of Lorien

The foothills have begun to give way beneath you, the ground more level and smooth to the east, upon the plains of the Anduin river. There are trees here, but it is difficult to see much during the night. The Misty Mountains still seem to make their presence felt to your west but appear now as mere shadows and nothing more. It feels as if this area is free from any danger imaginable, as the unrelenting heat gives way to the refreshing breezes brought by the onset of darkness.

Rain pours down from the night sky, drenching all around you. The nighttime summer air is hot and muggy around you. The moon is new.

Contents:
Galharth
Thorhur
Iaelen
Gildor
=====================================================================

The last ray of the day's light now hides behind the mountains to the west, and the company of edhel come to a rest North of Lothlorien. In the extending shadows, the leveling ground seems almost hauntingly sending forth a warning. The few trees that have taken hold, now stand as dark sentinel's in the coming night. Overhead the sky is darkening, and the purity of the stars now comes forth to improve the scenery.

Standing beside his horse, the Tailor Galharth pulls the saddle from the animal's back. Humming softly to the animal, he smooths his hand over his mounts back. "I thank you for the ride this day," he says gently.

A real sentinel, however, stands among the trees. His horse is close by, the white animal standing erect as the Sentinel stands with the bridle in hand. "Easy," he whispers as the animal throws its head up and whinnies. "Be still, my steed," he whispers, and as he turns to lead his horse away he catches sight of another figure. "Good evening," he whispers. "I know not who you are, though, but you definitely one of the camp, for your horse is undoubtly one of Lorien. Pray, tell me to whom I speak," the sentinel says in a light voice as he leads his steed closer to the camp.

On the opposite side of the encampment, Iaelen approaches still mounted, having been at the rear of the company, and his steed in no rush, being spirited and yet energetic. The horse is quite content to keep walking past the tents, and for a few moments, the Cuigrithweg allows this. Then, gently, he tugs on the sable mane, just outside the perimeter. "Pause, mellon, for we must rest now. Yes," he chuckles, when the fellow 'nay's and stomps petulantly on the dark ground.

Peering up over his horses back, Galharth peers at Thorhur. "Who are you talking to, Thorhur?" The Tailor asks curiously. Before an answer can be received, the movement of the last in the company draws the crafters attention. "Ah well met, good Attendant." He calls out to Iaelen. "I trust the ride was comfortable for all?"

"Ah, Galharth. I was talking to you, for I could not see who it was that was there. However, I was also trying to quiet my horse," he explains, giving the bridle a light tug. "He seems a bit unsure of me at the moment, if you know what I mean. It is a pity, for he is an honorable steed."

Turning to where the Tailor calls, Thorhur smiles and greets Iaelen. "Good evening Iaelen. How do you fair this evening?"

Voices call to him, and as Iaelen turns about, his white teeth flash in warm welcome. "I am well and quite comfortable, mellon nins, for my steed is also honorable, and a pleasure to ride with." Swinging his left leg over, the healer carefully slips down from the silky back, feet hanging in mid-air for a moment before settling on the ground. The horse looks down his nose at Iaelen, who laughs. "Do not be sore...I am keeping us both from tiredness come morning."

"Ah," replies Galharth, "Sometimes it is indeed hard to say who speaks with who when a wall of horseflesh blocks ones sight and dulls ones sense of smell." At his words, the buff colored animal that stands near the Tailor snorts harshly and turns his head to nudge the ellon as if disputing something said. "Honesty is spoken, Alegargil." At the mention of his name, the horse snorts once more and drops his head to nibble upon the grass. Reaching out a hand, the crafter pats the animal's shoulder and chuckles. "With honor comes sensitivity to jesting it seems. Still, the suggestion made by the Commander was a good one. We've traveled a good distance further than we might have by foot. Evenso, it will be a day or so before we come to the Beornings land."

The Sentinel strokes his horse's mane lightly. "As long as the yrch leave us be, we hopefully will have no trouble getting through the lands of the Beornings," Thorhur whispers. Then, with a small smile, the Sentinel lithely jumps upon his horse's back. "If you will excuse me though, perhaps I will go a little further ahead to scout out the area. Good evening to you both." with a small wave, the Sentinel turns around in his saddle and his white horse, Curugil, leads him away silently at a light canter.

The traveling elves don't go unseen by a careful traveler, though currently he hears voices only though in the tongue of his own kind. The heru is cloaked, and hooded to be hidden as best as possible though little does worry of an attack at this point he does move with silent foot falls towards the gathered group he can see one of there number ride off on horse back. The sea-elf having got a good view of one of the elves now knows he has found a group of the ones he seeks. Gildor moves along now only when close enough does he give up his stealth. "Well met." he calls out in the sindarin tongue though accented of his own. He steps into view at last and stops his forward movement perhaps trying to see how they will react to him.

"Beorns," Iaelen shakes his head, wry laughter bubbling up out of his breast, "My first trip away from our Golden Wood, and to the realm of edain we travel before seeking our own kin. Such an experience I have ne..." He does not finish the sentence, as the mysterious stranger comes into view, making his presence known. Unsure, eyes hooded, the Cuigrithweg says nothing in return, looking to Galharth for reaction.

Nodding towards the Sentinel as he departs to fulfil his duty, the Tailor completes the last tasks to see his his horses needs. "Do not travel far Alegargil," he says softly as he pats the animals shoulder. Turning his back upon his now grazing horse, Galharth is surprised at the appearance of a stranger within the camp. His eyes grow wide and he steps forth. "Well met, stranger," Galharth replies with a hint of caution. Peering into the shadows of the visitor's hood, the crafters brow furrows. "From your tone and voice, I can recognize you of the firstborn, but yet not from our home. Tell me, mellon, what brings you to us and who might you be?" Pausing a moment, he glances towards Iaelen, and then back towards the stranger. Clearly all present await some hint as to the identity and purpose of this new arrival.

The form of this noble elf though hidden his eye glance to the first of the elves that speaks. The heru though a bit away is able to pick up the name of beorning which gives him hope that his mission might be successful. Gildor turns his attention to the other that addresses him, he begins his movement again. "You speak true I am not of your woods, I actually come to seek your kin out I am on urgent errand." the noldor is silent a moment as he ponders the best way to bring up his case. "My identity I will speak though it has been long since I have passed this way." he removes the hood covering his head which allows the light to shine slightly off the gem on his brow. "I am Gildor Inglorion." with this he gives a small nod to each in greeting he again halts to allow them to look over him.

Gildor Inglorion. Hmmm...Iaelen's brow furrows in contemplation, but not for long. The stranger is kin, though from other realms, and the receding of tenseness comes swiftly in the healer. He smiles cautiously, yet a bit wary. "Pray, tell us whom you seek, or is it our realm as a whole whom you have business with?"

"You seek us, Gildor?" Galharth says with a tilt of his head. Stepping forward to narrow the distance between them, the Tailor lifts his head and purses his lips with concern. "I am Galharth, and while our numbers are small, I would urge you to tell us of your errand, mellon. If able, we will help, and if not then we can certainly find you the help that you need." Glancing to the faces of the others present before returning is gaze to the visitor to await an answer to the questions raised.

Gildor looks to both the elves who speak and the others a moment before again speaking. "I seek any who may take action, my errand is thus. The high passes of the mountains have been blocked to us by a fortress built by the orcs and others there." he move closer now within the camp so that he may lower his voice even if only a little. "We have launched one attack on this the few I travel with of the valley, and the beornings whom you speak. We have been repelled more are needed for this cause. I come to find those who would take up arms in this."

Eyes grow wide within the small group as the news is heard. This surprise, or perhaps shock, is followed by a deadly silence. "Our guard are away at the moment on patrol, and we who remain are simple folk of gentler craft and skill." Galharth says, speaking where others remain silent. Glancing to the others, his head dips low as he peers intently at the ground while in thought. "We've only just left our home, and we can offer no more than two, or in times without choice three, who might be able to lend arms to the cause. While any help would be of use, we can offer very little. Yet...." the Craftmaster says as he looks up, "..... we are near to the help needed." Looking to the others, he lifts his head and makes eye contact with all present. "The pass is blocked, so our mission fails before we've traveled the distance. We could choose a different route and disregard this request for help, or return home to bring the matter to our Lord and Lady." Pausing a moment, he continues with a firmness that speaks of the ellon's resolve. "With these our choices then I say there is no choice. We shall rest a time and return to the Dreamflower so that Gildor's request can be put forth to those who might be able to clear our way for another time."

Looking back to Gildor, his voice softens, "When Maglind and Thorhur return, I shall speak with them. I can not say if they will go to aid in the north or return with our fair folk to mount a stronger force." He smiles, "I can not speak for the Guards, but know this, they both are edhel of great honor."

"I will go ahead with the scouts, should they choose to travel ahead," Iaelen offers after a moment's thought, eyes and jaw hardening, almost as if he expects opposition, "For I am certain that the aid of the Cuigrithweg will be needed, and I will not be one to turn back." The horse beside him stirs uncomfortably, echoing the atmosphere that is beginning to permeate the encampment.

The ancient elf looks to the one who seems to speak for the camp for the moment. His intense gaze scans to each as he listens to the other speak. "I have little time i'm afraid to have, and raise a gathering of our kin." a look to the mountains is given he hopes that the beornings have not gone on without them yet. Gildor looks back to the elf. "Your lord and lady are well known to me." Gildor says almost to all and nobody at the same time. "I must be back as soon as I may be, plans are being drawn as we speak." the prince looks to the other for a moment. "Your skilles will be needed. I am ready to travel whenever we can begin. The sea-elf is at this quiet and looks around to the land.

"I will bring forth your news, and tell all who brought it to this camp." Galharth says with a nod. "I am sure Maglind and Thorhur will not be long so your journey will surely not be delayed long." Glancing to Iaelen, the Craftmaster nods. "I respect your desire to remain with the Guards. Should they go northwards, I'll make report that you travel with them." With that the Tailor turns back to his horse, where he steps away so to prepare for the journey home.

"Yes," Iaelen agrees solemnly, though disappointment is now starting to dance in his eyes. Looking to the north, he sighs, stroking the nervous steed slowly. "Make haste, mellon nins," comes out softly, earnestly, "Make haste to return to us, for time is of urgent nessessity indeed."