1/30/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 10:29 AM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 13 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <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 Jan 30 13:29:51 2008
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Smithy of Lorien

A large room with a dirt-packed floor and well-ventilated roof housing the many smelting furnaces and forges used to make every manner of metal good for the elves of Lothlorien. One large furnace is positioned along the northern wall of the room, and another along the southern wall, each with heavy iron kettles for smelting the various ores used. Forge areas are dispersed in the intervening space, accompanied by cooling troughs of water, metal molds, and an array of tools for handling and working the metals. Along the back walls are shelves of raw materials and hanging or laying in racks are the finished products of the smiths' toils - glittering swords and spears, armor of various make, and other smaller items. To one side of the room, piles of grey feathers and pieces of wood show where the famed Galadhrim longbows and grey-flighted arrows are assembled.

At each corner of the bustling smithy is an arched doorway. Above each are gilded plates in Sindarin script signifying, clockwise from the northwest, Pottery Shop, Bakery, Jewelry Shop, and Wood Shop. A rope ladder rests in a nook in the middle of the back wall, leading to the crafter telain above.

Contents:
Galharth
Galadriel


Golden rays rain down upon the Crafters workshops, highlighting the blackened branches and the damage done to the trees nearest the forges. The skeleton of what once was a bakers rack now lays on it's side not far from the trees. At the forges, several leather clothed apprentices work diligently at the fire. Air and fuel is poured into the heated hearth, sending whisps of smoke and heat from the growing flame.

Not far from the working elves, the Tailor Galharth stand with a Master Metalsmith, softly discussing the efforts taking place. Suddenly a frown appears upon the Master Metalsmith's face and he turns towards the apprentices. "More air! Pump the billows harder or you won't get the coals hot enough to cook let alone melt steel." Arlorn snaps impatiently.

"Be calm, Mellon, they are working as hard as they can." Galharth says soothingly as he shifts his left hand within the sling he wears around his neck.

Always of a brave sort, Galadriel dares to come to the smithy in her white gown, despite the soot that clings to nearly everything. She stands there then, in sharp contrast to the blackened wood and solemnly studies the damage and the activity resuming. At last her eyes come to rest upon Galharth, wondering.

Turning and sweeping his right hand over the damage, the Tailor opens his mouth to speak, but falls silent as he takes note of the visitor within the Crafters domain. "Lady Galadriel!" Galharth calls out, both greeting the most noble among them and perhaps to alert the others of her presence. Sighing softly, the crafter takes a step forward. "It pains me that such disaster is offered for a visit." he says softly. "Unfortunately it is a matter that has been waiting to happen."

As Galadriel crosses the room towards Galharth, she nods slightly to those who greet her. She pauses once to look up at the black branches, her brow furrowing somewhat. But finally she is nearly toe to toe with the tailor and she keeps her silence no longer. "It pains the both of us, Craftmaster. But I have come only to assess and not to assign blame. First tell me, how is your hand?" She looks at the sling.

"No one is to blame," Galharth says firmly, in a tone loud enough for nearby Bakers and Metalsmiths to both hear. Pausing as the Lady speaks of his hand, the Tailor looks down at the crisp white bandaged apendage cradled in a sling. "It pains me, but not so much so that I can not see to the clean up." Looking up into the lady's face, he smiles. "Thank you for asking." The sound of cracking, followed by shouts rises up from the forges. Turning, the Crafter frowns as he eyes several embers drift upon the air.

"Slow and steady with the air!" Shouts the Master Metalsmith. "We need to get the heat up, not blow embers out of the forge!"

Sighing softly, the Tailor returns his gaze to the Lady. "We crafters are slightly on edge at the moment. I fear we'll be bringing this matter to council soon."

Galadriel watches the forge-workers over her shoulder with an inscrutable expression as Galharth speaks. She extends a hand and catches a tiny errant ember in the palm of her hand. It cools to a bright red, then disappears. At last she looks at the tailor again, "Indeed, the council may provide a measured, objective voice in the matter. You said that this is a matter that has been waiting to happen...What did you mean?"

With is eyes resting upon the ember caught by the Lady, the Tailor frowns. "The question raised is why we have the forges within the city walls." Galharth says as he looks upwards into the thick canopy overhead. "In a city such as ours, the nearness to so much that is flamable brings danger." Sweeping his right hand upwards, he points to the Weavers talan, and then down towards the bakery and the Wood shop. "The heat needed to forge our weapons, jewelery, and housewares is great, and with that heat, the city is placed at risk." A few crafters draw closer as if eavesdropping on the conversation. "Certainly the Guards keep our borders safe, so our forges can be moved to somewhere more suitable for the work they do."

Galadriel lowers her head thoughtfully, but then lifts her eyes to look upon the faces of the crafters that have drawn nearer, one at a time, some eager, a few bristling. "Truly I tell you sir that the forges have been here longer than I. And I suspect you can tell the reason as easily as I, for the borders have not always been so well fortified and were the city to be beseiged we would be lost without our metalsmiths close at hand." She pauses to bestow a meaningful look upon a young, strong shirtless elf. "But it could be that this is an instance of time moving faster than our people." She looks a little sad at this admission and folds her hands behind her.

"So many live within the city, and our workshops have clustered together over time," Galharth says with an expression of deep consideration. "We have so much to fear, and yet in response to the fear, we've brought a home grown risk to the people we seek to protect." Focusing his gaze upon the Lady, he tilts his head. "We Crafters are concerned. Concerned for our own shops, and for the people of Lothlorien." Pausing he looks down at his hand and then up again, "We can not assume that the matter deals only with us, for the Guards concerns for safety must be considered, and even the population of Lorien must speak their needs."

Catching sight of a Basketweaver that steps forward as if to argue, the Craftsmaster shakes his head. "The people must speak their minds." As the basketweaver pauses and then nods his head, Galharth turns back to the Lady. "Perhaps when this matter is brought up, some might feel it safe enough to move their residence from the city walls."

"This goes beyond the Council then," replies Galadriel, half stating, half questioning. "Perhaps a forum for all citizens to present their opinions and reasoning. And a final decision by the Council." She looks around at the growing crowd of crafters, aware that perhaps her reluctance to make an immediate decisions is met with disapproval. Finally coming around again to Galharth, she continues, "And the sooner the better, wouldn't you say Sir?"

"Soon is best, I think, but not before the Order can be consulted." Galharth says with a nod. "And perhaps the other guilds might have concerns to add to our own." Pausing to look southwards towards the library, the Tailor winces as a though seems to suddenly come to mind. "Our tomes and records lay so close that I can imagine the Bards would have something to say about this matter." Turning back towards the Lady, the Craftsmaster seenes drained from both effort and thoughts. "Perhaps the Royal Court can manage the gathering of information. We've a number of good recordkeepers who would be glad to step up to the task."

Galadriel seems to sense Galharth's flagging energy and reaches out to lay a hand upon his shoulder, gently. "Yes, the Royal Court can certainly handle the information gathering; I shall begin speaking with the couriers even today. For the time being, if any of the crafters have need of extra materials to put things aright here - now - do not hesitate to wield my name in the obtaining of them. It is in everyone's interest to have all the crafters operating as if nothing has happened." She levels her gaze upon him, steady, and exhorts him, "You would do well to see a bit of rest, brother. Your body requires rest to heal your wounds, and you will be of more use here with a clear mind."

Galharth's face brightens with the Lady's support, and he touches his right hand to his chest as he bows his head respectfully. "As always, Lady Galadriel, your support and devotion to the people of Lothlorien comes forth at all times." Lowering his hand and turning his gaze to the gathered Crafters, he smiles weakly, "I can assure you with certainty, that your words have done our hearts good in this most terrible moment," Letting his gaze return to Galadriel, he adds, "You have the thanks of all Crafters this day."

It is with only a gentle smile that the Lady responds to this compliment. She takes one last look around and then states, with a slightly raised voice meant for all surrounding, "Then I shall cease in my hinderances and let you all return to your work." To Galharth again, "You should find me about the Royal Court if you have need of anything. Good day, Galharth." She turns back toward the green path.