2/12/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Night < About 9:15 PM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 53 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waxing 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: Tue Feb 12 17:05:17 2008
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Lawn
Here the stairway through the mellyrn meets the top of a mighty hill, opening out into the middle of a great lawn filled with blue and yellow flowers. At the center of the lawn stands a great shimmering fountain which falls into a basin of silver. From the basin flows a white stream of water out into a small brook, which then trickles away down the hill. Further north there stands a mallorn tree of such magnificent height that it seems to reach even to the clouds. A path paved with white pebbles curves around the hilltop, leading west and east from the stairs.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Cuyan
Gildor
Orodrhandir

As early evening takes hold, starlight shines brightly over the tender green lawn set within the center of the city. As a mild breeze sweeps over the lawn, the stars seem to dance as their firey white light flickers with jewel tones of blues, reds, and yellows. The sweet scent of flowers drift up from the gardens further down the hill, mingling with the fresh scent from the brook and fountain. The sights offered are beautiful, and made moreso by the delicate sounds of songs sung by the bards in some unseen place within the city.

On this night, the Tailor Galharth wanders the lawn. His eyes look upwards and he hums in time with the bards song.

Light boots crush the grass, accompanied by the harsh sound of panting. Maglind approaches from the east, with a blunted sword slung jauntily over his shoulder. He pauses a moment to draw breath, and in that moment glances towards the tailor.

A figure is seen by those looking walking up the stairs to the lawn. Gildor's foot falls are light and his sharp eyes peer around at the gathering group, one he knows well the other only briefly. The heru comes onto the lawn a nod is given to each, a curious look to the warden. "You seem rather winded warden." a firm but friendly voice calls out.

To the north of the lawn, resting against the massive mallorn sits a young elf. Orodrhandir has the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head, covering his face in shadow. After observing the mingling of other elves he reaches up and removes the hood from his head. The stars and lights from the city reflect off the sharp lines of his pale face. He stands and begin walking towards the gathering of elevs. Orod's smooth, glding gait eat up the distance between himself and the others. As he approaches he gives a suttle bow and says, "Mae Govannen, mellons. It is a fine night to be out in the city."

Slowly ascending the stair, a slim ellon steps into the scene. He carries himself as though knowing where he wants to go, and each step getting closer to his destination. he stops, though, and sees the small meeting of elven folk, and bows. " Eithel govannen, mellon," he says.

Chance brings the Clothier's head down from stargazing at the moment several arrive. "Starlight is a strange companion is it not? When at first it seems it hold you in a solitary embrace, it seem almost a surprise to find others drawn by the hypnotic light twinkling in the sky." Galharth says with a warm smile. Pausing his words, he looks over the others, "Well met, one and all. How goes your eve?"

"I do not raise my eyes to the stars. I," says Maglind wearily, stabbing the swordpoint into the ground and collapsing gracefully, "seek a bath. I fought a marchwarden and smell like a ranger."

Gildor looks to those who speak "Well met indeed." says the noldo but looks to the one who speaks of the stars.The sea-elf lets a smile comes to his face as he looks up for a quick moment. "It can be and do a great many things." Gildor says softly, but looks down as the warden speaks. "We may train more while I visit if you so wish." he turns to the new arrivals and nods to each.

Orod chuckles as he watches Maglind collapse upon the grass. He returns the nod from the visitor. "I may take up your offer for some training. I have just been told I may begin my training for the guard. I have to only go to obtain my weapons." Orod smiles as he recognizes Cuyan as one he has just meet.

Cuyan looks about the lawn, recognizing the folk about it. He strides towards the group, and says," How goes?" He steps towards Orodrhandir. "We did indeed meet again, and only three days later." He smiles.

Watching the Warden's movements, the Tailor lifts a brow. "Certainly the Galadhrim would be better served to have you fight Orc rather than our own," Galharth says with a hint of teasing. Crossing his arms over his chest, the crafter's half smile grows as he twitches his nose. "And worry not over the smell, mellon. The rangers scent is remarkably worse."

Turning as Gildor speaks, the Craftmaster's smile fades slightly, and he sighs. "There are a number of folks who need training I fear. Guard and Citizen alike."

Falling silent for a moment as Cuyan speaks, he steps closer to the group. "You're in need of weapons?" he asks quickly of Orodrhandir. "If you wish, I can mention your need to the Crafter that might aid you best." Pausing his words, his eyes flicker over the ellon with a professional note. "You'll need armor as well. I can help with that as well."

"He challenged me," laughs Maglind breathlessly, leaning back upon his hands. "And naturally, I lost."

Only a moments concern comes of the words of the craftmaster. He does look to each though a little closer and one who just begins his training. Gildor turns to this one first. "What is the weapon you will be training in?" he asks the elf-lord turning back to the one who gave worry for the training in the woods. "I may only train for my time here, I do not know when I will be called back to the road."

Orod smiles gracefully, "I would appreciate your help very much my friend. I have waited for quite a while to obtains the tools of the guard of Lorien. My grandfather will be so proud." Orod looks around and notices the other looking at him. He blushes and says, "I apologize for my excitement. I look to train with either the longbow or the longsword my lord." he says in the direction of traveller.

"I started with the bow only because my father taught me," Maglind replies, making a face at Galharth's first comment. "I have found, however, that it feels safer to have a hundred feet of empty space between your bow and your enemy."

The steely eyed gaze of Orod fall upon the Tailor and twinkle in the starlight, "I would appreciate all of your help as well my friend. I shall be in your debt." Turning towards the Warden Orod answers, "I too have done some practicing with my grandfather. He shares your view my lord, he has always said, 'The bow allows elves to take advantage of all of their natural physical talents'."

The elf, Cuyan, who has been listening silently, again speaks. "I myself am leaning towards crafting." He looks at some of the elves. "would anyone have any way for me to learn on the subject?" He steps back, and blinks.

"Well put, Maglind, and you are more than welcome for the help, Orodrhandir." Galharth says with an agreeing nod. "Though to be honest, if I'm to add my own thoughts of weapons among the warriors present, I feel better in control of my fate with a sword in hand when I find myself in the position which requires a fight." Glancing from ellon to each of the others, the Craftsmaster adds, "It seems we all share some need to continue after our kindred. My own weapon was passed down from an uncle, though its current form has been altered remarkably to add some delicate beauty to it's deadly form."

Glancing at all present, humor flickers in the Tailor's eyes. "Take care friends, the more we speak of weapons and skill, the more inclined we'll be to turn this meeting into a training session."

At Cuyan's question, the Tailor's eyes grow wide in surprise. "Crafting? It seems you've asked that question at the right time. Should you wish to discuss your interest in detail, then please come to the Crafters Hall tomorrow."

Cuyan suddenly looks up. "Oh my! I must leave! sorry." he starts to the stair. "Thank you!" And with that he is gone.

"Perhaps," Galharth says with a slight shrug of his right shoulder. Unclasping his hands from behind his back he lets his hands fall comfortably to his side. "There is little more that Legarwin can teach me with the Longsword, or so he says when he speaks of my skill. Perhaps I'll test my hand with a staff or a dagger, and that can wait wait for another day." Falling silent a moment, the Tailor carefully inspects Orodrhandir. "So have you joined the Order yet?"

"I have been designated a Sentinel, but have not yet truly joined the Order." He smiles at Galharth. "SO what exactly is it that you make my friend?"

"Ah, a Sentinal. It is as much a Guard of the Order as a Warden or Marchwarden, or at least we citizens who hold the Guard in high regard see it as such." Galharth says with a warm smile. Lifting his hands to slip them into the pockets of his robes, the clothier smiles. "I am a Master Tailor by trade, and the current Craftsmaster of the Gwaith-I-Thein. I suppose you could say that I get my hands into just about all crafts in one way or another."

The eyes of Orod stare cooly into yours, "So you may be able to tell me where I may find some armor? I believe that I should at least look the part of a member of the order." Orod quickly looks up and notices the morning sun, "I hope I am not keeping you from anything on this fine morning." he then stretches his arms to the sky and squints into the morning sun, with a long exhale he looks back towards the Tailor.

"I can help you with both armor and uniform." Galharth says in a friendly tone. "You're welcome to come to the Hall of Crafters and we'll get you well suited for the tasks ahead." Looking up at the sky, a soft sigh escapes the Tailors lips. "Alas, the time has come for me to return to my own duties." Pausing to not to all present, he steps towards the stairs. "Feel free to come by at any time Orodrhandir, and until then, good day." With that the Craftsmaster moves down the stairs and disappears from sight.

Orod looks around and finds himself alone again on the lawn. He pulls his hood back over his head and begins to stride back north to the majestic mallorn. He moves without making a sound except for the quiet elven chant that comes from his lips.