2/18/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Nighttime < About 11:55 PM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 14 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: New <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 19 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3043>
----------------------------------------------------------------------
RL time: Mon Feb 18 09:58:26 2008
=====================================================================
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
Orodrhandir


As night takes over Lorien the heat and glow of the forges stands in stark contrats to the cool breezes about the city. A lone elf enters the smithy and is immediately met by the heat from the forges. Orodhrandir squints as he tries to see throughout the room. He walks over to the piles of finished products and begins to sift through them.

Standing off from the entrance into the forge area, the Craftsmaster Galharth softly converses with several smiths. As the Tailor speaks, his hands sweep towards the fires, and then retreat back so to tap a finger into his left palm as if making a point within the conversation. The smith's nod, and quickly return to their work around the fire. Sighing once, Galharth watches the crafters retreat before turning to head towards the door.

As he makes to leave, the clothier catches sight of the Sentinel Orodrhandir. "Ah! Good to see that you've come. Have you made the arrangements to get your armor and uniforms yet?"

Orod is startled by the words of the crafter. His astonishment quickly turns to joy as he recognizes Galharth. "Good day my friend. I was just looking at some of the armor and weapons that have recently been made here." He looks back towards the piles of goods and begins srting through them. "This stuff is quite impressive."

Chuckling softly, the Craftsmaster reaches for a longsword. Holding it up, his wrist turns one way then the other. The polished steel surface reflects the flickering light of the forges. "Impressive indeed, and yet not fully completed." Galharth says as he returns the sword to the neat stack upon the table. "Each weapon, and each piece of equipment is further personalized or detailed when it goes to an individual."

Turning his gaze from the stack to the ellon, the Tailor smiles. "That time will come as you move up in rank within the Order." He says. Sweeping his hand to the metal items, he smiles, "When the time comes for you to gain your sword, it will be given to you during your promotion. Until then, as a Sentinel, we can issue you uniforms, and studded leather armor unless you gain special duties. I can help you with both of those."

Orod's eyes flash with the prospect of recieving his own equipment. Orod looks towards the crafter, at this point he drops a sword and it clangs upon the pile. "I appreciate all the help you can give me. What is it that you need of me my lord?"

Folding his arms across his chest, the Tailor looks at Orodrhandir for several moments before speaking. "Your service to this wood is exchange enough for the equipment I'll arrange to have delivered to you, but beyond that, I ask one thing of you in return." Galharth says firmly. Unfolding his arms, he reaches out to place a hand upon the Sentinel's shoulder. "I do ask that you train hard, and do your very best to prevent injury and death." Pausing a moment, the Clothier drops his hand from the others shoulder and lowers his head and looks away. "Afterall, the work to repair your armor is...." he says clearing his throat softly, "is work we can do without."

Orod's face shops concern for the great crafter. "I will do my best to make sure you don't see these tools again. I see the pain associated with your work ways heavily upon you. " With a look of sadness he places his hand upon his heart and says, "I have vowed to protect this city, and I will train with all my effort to make sure I am up to the task, and you should take joy in knowing that the work of your hands is integral in the defense of the city."

A smile lights upon the Craftsmasters lips as he looks up once more. "Then let us see about getting you your uniforms first, and I'll take your measurements to get your armor." Galharth says, sweeping his hand to the forge exit. "In the weavers talan, we have a rack that holds the standard garb of the Guards. The material is a bit stronger than that we normally wear, but suits the tasks you'll face." Stepping towards the exit, he continues. "Grey Trousers, black boots, white shirts, Grey short robe, and of course the Cloak, which acts to disguise you within the trees. If you have the time, we can go get them now."

=================================================================================
Weaver's Talan

Woven intricately about and throughout the branches of this tree, this talan of the weaver is. Overhead is but the canopy of blossoming branches, rays of sun jubilantly dancing through the openings, starlight also peering through in its own turn. Many a lantern hang overhead; ready to be lit when the light becomes too dim for the weaver to work. A pile of baskets dominates one corner; dusty, the majority unused, and apparently made many a year ago. A loom is set in front and to the side of the baskets, sometimes still, but many a time click-clacking away merrily. A wheel used for spinning wool and other raw material into thread stands proudly next to the loom, ahead of the baskets, but the feeling of overcrowding is not present in the least here.

On the opposite side of the talan is a large oblong table laden with many things, a small glass box in the far left corner, and a contraption holding several large bobbins of thread at the far right. Three pots, each smaller than the next, stand together on the table along one side; three gossipers who are only silent while the weaver works. The tallest holds many rolled-up scrolls, the one of medium height and build holding beads of shiny glass, the last and smallest of the trio holding needles and pins. Two mannequins stand next to the table, used to hold works-in-progress when needed.
=================================================================================
"Wow, I have never been up in here before." Orod's eyes quickly scan area. "It is amazing what is tucked away throughout the trees of the city." He looks to Galhrth, "I don't want to take up too much of your time. What is it I should do for you?"

"I've said what I wanted, and ask only that you keep it always in your mind." Galharth says as he crosses the talan to a rack filled with dove grey and white clothing. Glancing over his shoulders, he carefully inspects the Sentinel's form. Pursing his lips together in concentration for several moments, he looks back to the rack and pulls out several items. "These should fit nicely." he says as he turns around to hand Orodrhandir trousers, a shirt, and a short outer robe, and a darker silvery grey cloak. "I can give you three sets, and you are welcome to return when any item is damaged or needs replacing."

Orod takes the garments and stares at them intently. He continues to rub the fabric between his fingers. With a bow towards the Crafter he says, "Thank you. I will wear these with honor. I must say they are much lighter than I expected."

A slender figure traverses the rope bridges that lead upwards into the weaver's talan. He is well clad in the raiment of a guard, and seems only to be here upon errand. A bolt of red silk is balanced on Maglind's shoulder.

Galharth nods once and smiles. "You tasks are not simple, and it is fitting that you'd have clothing that holds some level of comfort." Turning back, the Tailor selects two additional outfits, as he continues to speak. "The fabric repels water well, thought not completely. It is warm in cooler climates and it breaths well when it is warm." Turning and taking a few steps, the Craftsmaster sits the clothing on a nearby table before moving to another rack containing boots and belts. Bending slightly, he selects a pair of boots and a thick belt. "These will complete your needs."

Turning as he speaks, the crafter pauses as he catches sight of a new arrival. "Ah, Maglind. How good to see you!" Galharth says warmly. Falling silent as he catches sight of the red cloth, he lifts a brow. "You've a project for me?" he asks curiously.

Orod continues to take the clothing from the crafter. He stares incrediously at each articles he receives. Orod also notices Maglind, "How are you my lord? I am looking to get my things together for the Order." He raises his hand to show the contents to the new arrival.

"No," says a red-faced Maglind, stepping lightly into the talan. "I do not commission silken dresses. My mother the weaver asked me to deliver this."

"Don't tear them," the warden says confidentially to Orodrhandir. "The weavers are worse than the healers."

Reaching for the fabric, Galharth smiles. "I was thinking robes, I swear Maglind. I'd only see you in a flowing gown in the midst of teasing." Pausing a moment to inspect the fabric, the Tailor runs a finger gently over the cloth. "Lovely, just lovely." he mutters to himself.

Looking up as Maglind speaks, the Craftsmaster clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Perhaps you can do what the Warden himself does not. I am ever fixing holes and tears. One would think he wears a target upon his form."

Orod continues to stare and to inspect the garments he was given. In answer to Galhart, "I will do my best to take care of them." Then with a quick glance in the direction of Maglind, "As for the Warden sir, I am sure that he too attempts to care for his uniform. It is his duty as a member of the Order that has been so hard upon the craftsman's handiwork." Orod looks back to Maglind and smiles.

Maglind shakes his head, quietly setting the bolt down. "I do not think she intends to clothe me in silk, given I cannot keep myself from tearing wool."

"Good day, tailor, sentinel," he says, nodding to each, and prepares to leave by the bridge.

"Good," Galharth says, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see about leather for your armor. Oh and Maglind...." the Tailor calls out after the departing Warden. "I'd like to speak with you another time about the ship...." As the Craftsmaster departs, his voice fades shortly after his form fades from sight.