1/26/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Night < About 3:37 AM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 1 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waning Gibbous <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 Jan 26 11:12:27 2008
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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
Maglind
Gildor


The first day of Stirring is not yet fully grown, yet the forest recognizes it: changed is the thoughtful silence of winter to the first songs of spring.

A small group travels south, some amid trees and others upon the path. They are clad in grey and dusty with travel -- a strange sight in Lorien. Their leader motions to pause; as he unhoods himself, the moonlight silvers his yellow hair grown long.

A delicate glow moves slowly along the edge of the path, and for any who might focus their attention upon the strange sight, they might see that the glow comes from a figure wandering northwards. A soft hum comes from his direction, and it seems a relaxed tone. Suddenly his movement pauses and his private song ends as he looks northwards.

"Hello?" he calls forth in a whisper as he cranes his neck to look northwards. Catching sight of a figure, he lifts a hand in greeting. "Well met!" he calls forth as he narrows his eyes to seek out the identity. "Maglind, is that you?"

Another also is among the travellers. His green cloak is stained with mud and he walks somewhat slower. When the form in front of him stops, he takes a step back and looks up at the trees. His eyes glitter, but there is a smile on his face.

Within the small group is another, this one a visitor to the goldenwoods. It has been long since this tall figure has come under these trees. He scans around a bit as they walk he still wears his traveling cloak and hood for the moment. Gildor stops only when they are hailed by others within the woods. The sharp eyes look to the warden for only a moment and than out the way the voice had come from.

At the sound of his own name, the first one raises his head in surprise. "... It is me," Maglind stammers. One who might have stayed in Lorien could hardly tell, for the tips of his hair fall past his shoulders, his cloak is ripped and mended, he has grown even thinner... "Is it Galharth?" the warden questions timidly, peering forward.

Taking a few steps northward, the Tailor continues to peer at the group with narrowed eyes. His eyes flicker from moonlit hair to the cut and condition of the cloaks worn. Recognition flickers upon his face and a smile appears. "It is!" Galharth responds as he moves forward to meet the group. "Well met, and welcome home my friends," he says with a broad smile. "T'is good to see you savely returning."

Pausing his step near to the group, he lifts a brow and crosses his arms over his chest. Clicking his tongue against the inside of his cheek, he shakes his head. "It seems you've returned safe, but you're all in dire need of clothing repairs." Lifting the corner of his mouth and looking to Maglind with humor and teasing in his gaze, he adds, "Good thing you're met by a Tailor."

Upon seeing the Tailor, Thorhur steps forward. A look of relief at a familiar face falls upon him as he looks first to his cloak then back to the Tailor. With a small nod he says, "Well met Galharth. It is good to see you." As an afterthought he says with a small smile, "I suppose dirty works calls for dirty clothing."

Gildor lets a smile come to his face at this cheerful homecoming. The elf-lord steps forward a bit more only than does he reach up to remove the hood from his head. The sea-elf listens to the voice and does believe he remembers it from the meeting when all were tossed into the battle. "A good morning." he says out to the others who come to greet the company he has traveled in.

"Were it anyone other than you, Galharth, I might die of shame," Maglind retorts, slipping his longbow over his shoulders. "What news in the Wood? Have you caused trouble without me?"

A young elf comes walking quickly down to the crossroads. Upon seeing that the company has returned Orodrhandir stops at the edge of the crossroads. He walks over to one of the nearby trees and stand to watch.

Turning his gaze towards Thorhur, the Tailor's smile remains. "I'm glad to see that you've returned safely, Thorhur," Galharth says with a nod. "And I suppose you're right. Your experiences could not have been such as my own was in Imladhrim." Turning his gaze towards Maglind, he unfolds his arms as a chuckle rises up from his lips. "You test me, my friend. T'is lucky that the closest body of water is but a stream or I'd find a way to dunk you with a proper washing."

"Trouble?" The crafter asks, in a tone that seems surprised. "I find that alone, it finds me not. I've even mentioned to Lady Galadriel that you might in fact be the source of the trouble that seemed to nip at my heels."

Thorhur smiles at the Tailor's words. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he turns towards Galharth once more and asks, "So all went well in Imladris then? Did you happen to find what you sought?"

The other members of the party begin to filter away into the canopy, disappearing into the beams of the rising sun. "I," Maglind crosses his arms calmly, "am an innocent. The only reason you have stayed safe is that you have had no victim."

"-- You went to Imladris? And back again? Ai..."

Hurrying along the the newly-lit forest path, an elleth arrives at the crossroads and halts, leaning on her staff to catch her breath. "I hope I am not too late," she says, slightly embarassed of the manner of her arrival. "I was sent here to see to any injuries."

"Unfortunately, there was nothing found within Elrond's library, but I did stumble upon a mention of a small box that seemed oddly similar to something I think I've seen upon the boat." Galharth says as he turns his gaze towards Thorhur. "It was a disappointment, to say the least. Perhaps it is a sign that I should turn my thoughts to other matters." Chuckling his eyes light up with teasing, "Perhaps I'll make clothing, or something along that line."

Returning his gaze towards Maglind, the Tailor opens his mouth to dispute the claim of innocence, but his voice faulters at the sound of the Novice Healers arrival. Looking over his shoulder, in the direction from which her voice had come, he catches sight of not only the elleth, but Orodrhandir as well. "Ah, you have two more visitors! Do come greet our returning warriors and any who've traveled with them." Pausing briefly, he looks back to Maglind. "No one is injured, are they?" He asks with concern.

Gildor listens in for the moment but does notice the new arrivals. He looks to each in turn. "Well met." he states calmly to the elleth as she arrives from the paths. The heru takes a moment to looks back to the group that traveled from the beorning lands. "I believe we are safe from injury a good forture, the last battle was largely tipped in our favor."

Thorhur nods slowly to Galharth. "That is indeed a shame, for it would have been a joy to find out the mystery of the ship. However, I think making clothes sounds like an excellent idea," he says with a smile and a wink.

Turning to the two new arrivals, Thorhur smiles soflty. "Well met to you all," he says in a light voice, "It is nice that you have come to greet us. I myself enjoy the sight of a familiar face."

Orodrhandir steps towards the group of the newly returning elves. "so how was your journey? What kind of people did you see? Did you have any battles?" Orodrhandir stops, "I am sorry to ask so many questions of you. I am sure youa ll are tired."

"We saw many creatures, some of which I would not care to describe," Maglind replies to the ellon Orodrhandir, his voice slightly weary. "There were three battles: we were shot at, sliced, dropped from walls. The third we won. But Iaelen healed us all," he adds quickly, smiling faintly at Istaril. "Ostiel was wise to send him."

Galharth shivers slightly, and frowns as he glances to the folks from the returning party. "Each step I took along the Redhorn pass, I thought about the reasons for the lack of resistance we received. It seems my worries were well founded." The Tailor says with a frown. "I am glad you managed through such an ordeal well."

Taking a step back, the Crafter looks southward. "As pleased as I am that you've returned, I fear that I need to return to the city. I've a few matters that can not wait." Looking back to the returning party, he smiles. "I'll be sure to alert one and all of your return, and I'm sure we'll have a celebration to look forward to in the Mar."

With that the Tailor departs, moving quickly along the path as he moves southwards.

Thorhur stirs suddenly, a sudden thought occuring to him. "I might perhaps go along to the city myself to tell the Lord and Lady all that has occured." With a nod to all assembled, the Sentinel is off at a quick pace.

Orod looks around look

"Truthfully," Maglind replies to the healer, quailing slightly under her gaze.

"Stay away from trouble," the warden calls, grinning at Galharth.

Gildor listens in but moves in closer to the group as a few depart, he nods his head to them. The gaze of the noldo than falls to the others. He regards the healer first. "Not a good turn of events but for our own kin, the second born were wrecked the hardest with injury and losses." his voice is a bit solom. "Though the day was ours the fort has been tossed down."

Istaril nods in understanding at the Elf-lord's words. With the news of the fallen, her heart fills with a quiet but wrenching sadness.

Orod's face turns from wonder to sadness, "I am so sorry to hear the news. All of the Galadhrim have returned I hope."

"Such is expected of battle," Maglind says quietly, looking from healer to ellon. "But all of us have returned, and that is well. We can only hope that the flood of yrch will not come to our own borders."

Thinking sadly of those who were laid to rest, Istaril begins to wonder about death, only slightly understanding it, when she remembers she is needed elsewhere. "I pray you find rest here," she says lastly, and walks down the path from whence she came.

Orod looks to Maglind, "I would so much like to join the Order so that I could help protect the borders fo Lorien."