2/17/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Night < About 2:01 AM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 11 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Waning Crescent <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 19 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3043>
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RL time: Sun Feb 17 10:40:31 2008
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Golden Roadway - Southwestern Arc - Fragrant Arches

You stand along the Southwestern arc of the Golden Roadway, deep in a copse of mellyrn. All about you, tall trees rise; grey ropes and bridges hang between them in an intricate web of interconnecting flets. Strings of creeping vines cross over head. All through the summer brilliant red trumpet flowers dot their lengths. To the northwest, a gently sloping staircase descends down the hill through the trees to another level of the city.

Towards the center of the hill, cut from its side, a small path leads through a gate of white wood and intricate carvings. Beyond them, the forest floor has been planted with thick green grass. The trees are thinner and several wide shady clearings can be glimpsed.

Contents:
Galharth
Istaril


In a charcoal black sky, silvery white stars flicker softly in the late night. A lazy silence lay over the Golden Roadway both on the ground and overhead in the rope bridges. A soft wind bows from the south, bringing forth the delicate scent of distant grasslands. As the vines hanging overhead dance in time with the breeze, the croaking of a frog keeps time with the movement. It is a lovely evening, and it almost seems that the world holds its breath for the coming dawn.

Humming softly to some private tune, the clothier Galharth wanders slowly along the roadway. While the tune seems joyful, his brow if furrowed, almost as if he's deep in thought.

From closeby another figure walks in the city this star filled night, this noldo is dressed comfortably in flowing clothes. He spots one moving here and makes his way over "Well met." comes his soft voice out into the air. Gildor lets a small smile come to his face as he approaches he is much enjoying being able to relax.

Sitting by one of the great mellyrns, Istaril leans back against its trunk and gazes up at the many stars that adorned the expanse of sky above the wood. Her mind is filled with many thoughts, and her senses are all immersed in them until the sounds of others on the road stir her out of her pondering.

With his hum falling silent as he looks up from his distracted walk, the Tailor's eyes open in half surprise. "Ah," he says at first. Opening his mouth to speak again, he catches sight of the Apprentice nearby. "Well met to the both of you." A smile appears upon his lips and he glance from elleth to ellon. "What brings you both out this late eve?"

Gildor nods over to the elleth as well as he notices her relaxing. The elf-lord moves closer to the small gathering of elves. "I take in all the rest I may." The heru says with a laugh as if walking the city could be called rest but he is glad to do it. He sighs just a bit but it is one of content.

"The stars," Istaril says quietly, returning her gaze to the heavens. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, her eyes fall on Galharth curiously, "What brings you here, Tailor?" she asks.

"Understandable," Galharth says with a nod in reply to Gildor. With a tilt of his head he adds, "But does not inactivity draw you to boredom after a time?" Lifting his own hand and wiggling his fingers, his smile broadens. "My own hands must take part in some measure of creation or discovery each day to keep me at a point of satisfaction. Perhaps this is a crafters curse."

Turning to Istaril, he chuckles softly. "Ah the stars, the lovely stars that draw most our kind to thoughts of fancy, pose, and creation. They ease our hearts, and set out minds adrift within their beauty whilst upon a sea of turmoil that is the night sky." Again the crafter chuckles. "They too have drawn me out, for tonight they've shown themself in a design that even now inspires an embroidered pattern for a gown." His chuckles of humor fall silent, and the Craftsmaster looks down to the ground. "Well, that was what started me upon my walk, but I admit, my thoughts soon turned to the fire at the forges and the topics that might be brought before council."

The elleth shakes her slightly at the Elvish crafters, "Are tempers still flaring as much as the day of the fire?"

Turning fully to Istaril, the Craftsmaster nods slowly. "There is tension within the shops, and while I am positive that there is no intentional agressions on anyones part, I do feel that feelings are at a high level due to the fire and past events that occured outside our lands." Galharth says slowly as if considering his words as he speaks. "In days of old, we were spread throughout the wood, and now, we're clustered in a fearful little patch of land for protection. One can only live in an unnatural state so long before something happens to set tempers aflare."

Istaril nods in comprehension. "Why should the crafters not spread beyond Caras Galadhon? There are places suitable outside the city's boundaries - even the Healers have managed outside it.

"This is what we as a group are thinking." Galharth says with a furrowed brow. "It is as we were before the Dwarves under the mountain awakened the darkness in the depths of their mines." He sighs heavily and looks to the northwest towards the mountains. "We lost so many crafters in the days that followed. Soon after we were moved within the protective walls of the city."