================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Evening < About 6:18 PM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 48 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 16 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3040>
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RL time: Tue Feb 27 14:46:20 2007
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Grove
This clearing lies in the midst of a dense grove of mellyrn, a rare open space in the lush woods of the Egladil. Encircling
the sward of bright green grass is a ring of exceptionally tall trees, their sturdy silver branches adorned with thick
bursts of golden yellow leaves, embracing the sky. A strangely gnarled, ancient mallorn stands at one end of the grove, its
twisting arms and roots forming an alcove of sorts. Dark green vines meander lazily about the trunks and branches of the
trees.

Participants:
Galhart
Ostiel
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The western horizon burns red and gold from Anor's diminishing light as early evening takes hold. As light decreases over
the fair lands of Lothlorien, the breeze picks up, and with it a sweet smell of blossoms is carried southward. Song from
elven voice accompanied by the sounds of nature add a delightful accompaniment to both sight and scent. It is a near perfect
beginning to the evening,

In the Grove, an ellon stirs within an abandoned Flet. Curiosity has him poking his head out windows and doorways alike.
"Interesting," he says as he stands upon the edge of the flet, peering out over the Grove. "I wonder why this was
abandoned?" he asks aloud. A strange crackling sound vibrates through the flet, and Galharth tilts his head in wonder about
the source.

Far below, Ostiel has been preoccupied with her thoughts, but at the crackling she also looks up up up, searching for the
source. An open book lies in her lap, and a small basket containing a half-eaten apple, bread and cheese is nearby,
untouched for some time.

The crackling grows in volume, and what started out as a sound vibration grows to take the form of physical movement. Grace
and agility are lost to the swiftness of collapse as the edge of the flet where the Clothier stands gives way. Perhaps the
look that takes hold upon Galharth's face is one of surprise or shock, but in the matter of moments it matters not as he is
standing upon the flet in one instant and a crumple heap upon the Grove's ground in the next instant.

"Ai!" Ostiel shrieks in shock, curling up into a ball and covering her head as wood splinters stab the ground around her.
She stays that way for a few moments after all is still, blood dripping from her left forearm, where a small piece of wood
has made a gouge. "By the Valar," comes out of her mouth, slowly and wryly, as grey-green eyes peer around....and spot
Galharth. Immediately the healer is on her feet, and rushing to the Clothier's side.

Down, but not out, the Clothier stays still for several long moments, strangely, not reacting Ostiel's shriek. "No
question," he mutters, "That hurt." Coughing, more from the dust that was sent flying at his sudden impact, than any injury,
he opens his eyes. Blinking several times, he stretchs first his fingers, then his hands, and finally his arms. At the
movement of his right arm, he winces lightly. "Guess that answers my question about why the flet was abandoned." he hisses
through a pinched expression.

"Shhh...don't move it," the Cuigrithweg murmurs gently, reaching Galharth and kneeling beside him in the grass. A splotch of
blood runs from her arm, dropping onto the ground between them. "Is that the only place it hurts, mellon nin?" To his
comment on the talan she says naught, but frowns deeply, as if with disapproval.

Blinking several times, he shakes his head. "I'd say your arm hurts," Galharth says as he wiggles his feet, and by
appearances from the moving leather of his boots, his toes as well. Drawing in a deep, definately pain filled breath. he
closes his eyes and pauses his movement. "I've wrenched my knee and pulled my shoulder."

Taking several deep breaths his crystal blue eyes open and he looks to Ostiel with sincere guilt. "I'm sorry to have caused
you injury."

"It's is naught but a scratch, and easily bandaged. Your own injuries, however, may need a bit more care. Hold still."
Ignoring her own pains, she prods expertly, long fingers sweeping over his shoulder and knee like a whisper of wind. "Can
you walk?"

Releasing a breath, it appears as if the Clothier seems relieved to hear that the wound upon Ostiel's arm is not but a
scratch. "Aye, I can walk, with help." Galharth mutters as he struggles to sit up, wincing as he moves his right knee, and
shoulder. "It seems my right side took the burden of the fall. I should probably make my way to the Healing Talan, shouldn't
I?"

"Yes," Ostiel agrees, "Come. I'll take you." She stands and leaves him for a moment, collecting the book and basket. Then
she returns to help Galharth to his feet, tiptoeing around the pieces of wood.

"If there is any fortune to misfortune, then I'm fortunate that you were here." Galharth says tensely between clenched teeth
as he rises. Hopping several times to readjust his balance, he leans heavily upon the Healer. "Ready," he says simply. "Lead
my lady, and I'll do my best to follow." Sweeping his left hand gallantly, he offers a weak smile, as he clearly prepares to
hobble along with Ostiel.

And Ostiel does indeed lead the way, arm braced around Galharth's back, leading until someone stronger comes along.