================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 1:08 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 51 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: First Quarter <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 16 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3040>
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RL time: Wed Feb 28 09:03:16 2007
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Healing Talan
This hushed talan is a quiet place of healing for those Galadhrim injured in battle. White robed Quendi, one wearing a
bracelet, easily walk about, tending to visitors, offering refreshments, and various other small jobs. Meanwhile patients
lie on comfortable, sparkling pads, gazing out at a sweeping view of the wood. Sunlight streams though the leaves of the
mellyrn, casting dancing shadows on the wooden floor. The air has a fresh, clean feeling. You feel better just resting here
for a moment.

Contents:
Galharth
Henleg
Celemir
Nauthcel
=====================================================================

A stillness falls over the Golden wood, as sounds diminish to soothing levels while the sparkle of silvery lights seem to
flutter through the trees. Even the breeze has calmed, lulling the inhabitants of the city into a period of rest or quiet
relaxation. Within the Healing Talan, a strange herbal based medicinal scent mingles with the fragrance of the rose blossoms
below. The combination of sights, sounds, and scents create a near tranquilizing effect.

Despite all, there is one ellon within the Healing Talan, that seems keyed up as he moves with a slight hobble through the
shadows. As he moves, he makes a concentrated effort to draw his robes tightly around him to diminish a natural glow,
carried by most of his kind. For the moment, it appears as if his escape is assured.

Assured? Perhaps, if it weren't from the bustling sound of footsteps coming up from the ladder that leads down to the Rose
Garden. Clearly, it's not one of the Firstborn who comes, for the sound of footsteps is different of that made by elves. And
soon, one of the Secondborn enters the talan, his head clearingthe hole that gives access. Sea-grey eyes regard the room
about him, as Henleg finishes his ascension. Noticing an elf moving about, he wave at him. "Mae govannen, mellon", the
Ranger says, the Sindarin tongue coming easily to his lips, as if he were born speaking it. "I hope the night finds you
well".

Descent too is possible in the many-layered city that is Caras Galadhon, perhaps a disconcerting arrangement for those
unaccustomed too it, but such visitors do not oft' walk amongst the boughs of elvendom on earth. Soft footsteps, set to
their own light melody of movement drift on a warm draft from the wooden stairway above, it's gentle curve twisting about
the mighty mellyrn in which the open flets rest. A soft glow, radient lights the downward path, driving back the soft shadow
with ardent silver light, and emerging from about the corner Celemir comes, shaped and twisted glass that glimmers so
strongly with captured starlight cupped in fore-presented palms, silver threads throughout his tunic set alight like rivers,
shifting and flowing as the nimbus plays. Crystal eyes move fluidly across Galharth, a gentle incline of the silvan's brow
offered in wordless greeting and then to the unusual sight of a dunadan.

A lyrical tone, soft yet resonant through the warm evening air sounding forth. "Welcome, son of Arnor."

Frustration of failure, and a strained attempt to portray a picture of innocence is attempted by the Clothier as his glance
shifts quickly upwards towards the Healers Home. Finding none alerted by the interlopers voice, he turns his gaze towards
the new arrival, "Shhhhhh, quite or they'll hear," he whispers. Recognition flickers over the ellon's expression as the
visitor's identity sinks in. "Henleg! Well met, and welcome back to Lothlorien," he calls out with sincere gladness,
forgetting his own warning to be quiet. "I've been better myself, but tell me, how have you been?" He asks, sweeping a gaze
over the Ranger's form.

Galharth's head jerks quickly at the sound of another voice, and his eyes immediately flicker once more upwards to the
Healers's Home. "Well met, mellon," he says dropping his gaze to the two visitors, "Is there any chance that either of you
would be interested in taking this meeting to the Rose Garden below?"

"Well met indeed!", Henleg replies, advancing towards Galharth and offering hi arm in greeting. With an amued look on his
face, he adds, "Well, it seems someone's trying to get away from the tender care of the healers. I bet Mia and Niinaeth
would be glad to hear of this", he says in a whiper, his tone conspirational. Turning to the other ellon, he says, "Mae
govannen, subject of the Lady Galadriel. I am Henleg, son of Mathadan, who comes seeking the Lady's protection and some rest
from a long trip".

"Young Galharth." Celemir addresses the other elf with a slight smile curling to one edge of his lips, ancient features
glowing with amusement and perhaps nostalgia. "You have aquired a well learned fear of heights? It was the same caution of
rolling over in the light of dawn to find one had moved in dreaming dreams to the flet's edge and crashing to the earth to
greet the new day that held King Amdir from committing his people to the telain as did his son." at that, his smile broadens
and the elf continues downward, leaving the stairway behind and bowing his brow in answered introduction. "Such I hope you
have found Henleg, son of Mathadan. I am Celemir. From whence did your road begin, and where to hither shall it bear it
you?"

Wincing slightly as the Ranger deduces his intent, he offers a slight shrug of his left shoulder. "Tender care? From some,
it has been a taunting of my inability to perceive the giving way of old wood." Pausing, he glances to the visitors, "Do I
look like a carpenter?" Sweeping his left hand over his carefully embroidered robe, "In these robes? Certainly they've
mistook me for someone I am not." Shaking his head, Galharth adds, "Besides, work becon's for my attention, and I've got to
begin work upon a memory quilt."

To Celemir, the Clothier lifts a brow and offers a slight frown, "Fear has nothing to do with my desire to find my way to
the Rose Garden, It is merely that I do not wish to disturb those who are truly in need of the care found within this
talan." Shaking his head slightly, he returns his gaze to Henleg. Yes, do tell, and then I shall tell you of what your last
story told has inspired."

"I come from Bree and Imladris, for I found some disturbing track that led from the moors near the Hidden valley towards the
Mountains. To the dark Moria they led, but I dared not enter that realm. But I decided to come to fair Lothlorien, and seek
some peace and rest. As for wither my road bears me", Henleg replies, a slight smile on his lips, "who can give an answer to
that? I deem not even the Wise know the end of their road... and if they're wise, they wouldn't seek it but wait for the
path to open before them", he say. Turning to Galharth, hi smile broadens as he adds, "Well, perhaps then I hall call Mia,
and ee what she has to say about elves sneaking out of the talan before their release by the healers?" Laughter follows
Henleg's words, as he looks to Galharth. "And it does seem the tale of how you ended here, mellon, is worth hearing".

"There is a seriousness about you." Celemir observes with a largely neutral manner, a soft and easy expression offering
neither great mirth nor stern derision. "If your pack becomes weighty and it's drag turn dark your thoughts, the road
becomes longer by miles and miles. Find laughter with a friend however, and the leagues will flow away." he smiles at this,
stepping forward and offering forth the spiraled glowing glass upon opened palms "Take this lantern." A soft laughter rises
from the silvan's lips as he nods toward the man. "Few know the true end of their roads, but we plan them none the less.
These tracks concern me, when last in Imladhris I was, the goblins of the high pass had claimed much of the roads. Another
time, Henleg son of Mathadan I should wish to know more." and then a knowing smile curls to him, a light moving to his face.
"And if Mia finds cause to chastise for your foray to a much needed change of scenery, let her bring the greivence to me, I
shall be glad for her company and to remind her that Wardens of Lothlorien have returned to duty with far worse ailments,
both with and without blessing."

In the darkness of Arda, a man walks the streets of Caras Galdhon passing beneath leaf and bough as he journies towards the
pungent fragrance of the gardens of Lorien. As he strides slowly through the Rose Garden, the sounds of voices above draw
his ashen gaze towards the talan above. With ease, Nauthcel ascends the ladder into the Healing Talan yet suprise is evident
as he sees an unexpected kin. "Henleg, you too have chosen to journey to this land?" In his voice, there is both joy and
curiosity.

"No sense in bothering the Lady Mia, certainly she has her hands full, with her gardening and all that." Galharth says
quickly. Taking a deep breath, the ellon plops down upon a cot, as Celemir speaks, for he himself has never traveled to the
places of which the two speak. As he draws himself downward to take his seat, there is no hint of the firstborns heralded
grace. Shaking his head, he replies to Celemir's last words, "Your gesture is appreciated, but I'm rather sure that Mia will
do what she will, regardless of what any say. She has an independent nature."

"And I'm not so sure that there is much of a tale to be told. Whilst exploring an abandoned flet to determine why a place
with such a lovely view would be abandoned. The collapse of the wood at the entrance was enough to reveal the reason, or at
least that was my assumption while looking back up at it from a swift, unexpected ascent to the ground."

Before anything further can be said, yet another joins the growing group. "My word, this talan sees a good bit of much
activity," the Clothier mutters. Tilting his head, he recognizes yet another known face. "Well met, Nauthcel." Pausing a
moment, he glances behind the newly arrived Ranger. Do you suppose the visiting Noldo will arrive as well."

"A Noldor?" Celemir inquires, his expression shifting at that instant from a knowing smile to a sterner countanance, though
it passes in the very same heartbeat, his manner is visably disturbed, and his voice takes an introspective tone "It is not
common that they journey east of the mountains, or even so far as the house of Elrond..." glancing upward, he offers a
polite bow to those present, greeting the newly arrived human with a specific incline of his brow. "Hail, Nauthcel. I
apologise but duties call me away." addressing then the group as a whole. "If you will excuse me, I bid you all a fair eve
and shall have the vinters deliver something to lift the spirit." he turns and makes for the ascending stairway.

A smile is given to Celemir in return for his words, yet as Henleg's about to speak, he turnsto regard Nauthcel. "Well met,
brother!", he calls, turning to offer his hand to Nauthcel. "I knew not you were here. And it's not choice that led me here,
but need... and some curiosity too. There were tracks, olog and yrch, that led form the Moor near Imladris outh and east, to
the Mountains. To Moria they travelled, it seems. And being so near the Golden Wood, I decided to come". To Galharth his
gaze drops then, as he adds, "Well, perhaps we can go and ee the view from this flet, once it's repaired, for I don't wish
such a swift way to get down from it". He laughs again, and then bids Celemir fare well.

A small nod is given to the departing ellon before the Ranger speaks to the two still present. "I had not heard that here
was a Noldor in the Woods though I would like to speak him," remarks the Constant before he goes into thought over the words
of his kin. "Olog and yrch tracks you say. When I had departed last from Eriador, the land had been at peace which was very
unnatural. Mayhap this is why." Over this, Nauthcel appears to broad before asking, "Yet, now that you are in Lothlorien,
where do you plan to journey next?"

A frown appears upon Galharth's lips, and he says nothing as Celemir departs, offering only a raised hand and an open mouth
that shuts quickly when the breeze of the ellon's departure settles. Glancing towards Nauthcel, he offers a nod. "His name
is Silvarion. He's somewhere within the city. You'll find him easy enough, as he wears a scarlet cloak."

Falling momentarily silent as the Rangers speak of things beyond Lothlorien, the Clothier listens intently. That silence
however is fleeting, as he suddenly speaks up with a measure of concern. "Do you suppose those you tracked pose a threat to
Lothlorien? While I know little of such things, certainly the Lord and Lady, and possibly the council would be glad to hear
all news." Glancing from one, to the other, he adds, "I would hope that neither of you are planning a quick departure."

"I do not know how long my stay will be, not where will I go", henleg answers to Nauthcel after a moment of thought. To
Galharth he adds, "And indeed, ologs and yrch might be something the Lord and Lady might wantto know. perhaps you could tell
them, friend Galharth?" His gaze then goes to the ladder, as he adds, "And mind, please excuse me for a moment, I must go
retrieve my pack which I left lying on the garden. I shall be back in a moment"

After the words of Henleg, Nauthcel says thoughtfully, "I think I shall be departing within the week. Though I do enjoy this
land greatly, my journey has just yet begun. Yet, I do wish to see the Lady before I depart." As his kin departs, the Ranger
continues to speak to the ellon saying, "Why is it that you wish for us to stay?"

"I could," Galharth says with hesitation, "but from me any word spoken of Urch is done so in ignorance. Perhaps the
information would be best received if communicated through Niinaeth, Mia, or perhaps to the Lady herself. I am not but a
Clothier, and an unassuming one at that." As Henleg departs for his pack down below, the Clothier turns his attention to
Nauthcel. Offering a shrug of his left shoulder, he releases a slow breath. "Perhaps my interest in your staying is a
selfish one. Having never left my home, I find myself now curious about the lands and peoples beyond our borders. I have,
quite by accident, discovered that the tales told by outsiders has improved my creative interpretation."

Nauthcel nods slowly to the words of the Clothier with a faint grin curving his lips. "Then let our travels create new tales
for you to hear and expand upon. Once my journies are over, I plan to once again rest for a time in Lorien before traversing
the mountains."

"You said you planned a visit to Gondor, if I recall," Galharth says with a nod and a smile of his own. "It's been a number
of years since our people have last traveled opening within those lands. And it's been longer still, since any have
returned. I should be glad to hear the stories you tell."

Falling silent for a moment, the Clothier seems to consider the Rangers upcoming travels. "Will you travel by land or river,
and either way, do you expect to spend much time among the Rohirrim?"

"I will visit the Horse Lords for a time though not in equal length to that of which I have spent here," replies the
Dunadan. "From this point forth, my true identity will need to be hidden for I shall slowly draw nearer to the land of the
Enemy."

"Understandable, and I wish you fortune upon your journeys when you continue upon your path." A sudden chuckle errupts from
the Clothiers lips, and he offers a smile. "Somehow, I imagine I'll see you once or twice before you continue along your
road, so let us put off any talk of leaving at least until you've come to the Weavers talan to pick up your new cloak."

A loud thud can be heard, as henleg puts his pack on the talan's floor, and after he hoists himself back up. "Gondor then,
brother?", he asks, as he bends to pick up the pack. "I have been as far as the lands of the Rohirrim, yet didn't make it to
the land of our distant kin... I dare say it'll be quite a tale to go to the White City and marvel at the works of our
forefathers", he adds.

"I shall be by to pick it up soon then." As Henleg returns and comments on the journey, Nauthcel replies, "Aye, I am
traveling to Minas Tirith for there I hope to find information that has long been forgotten by our kin." After a pause, the
Constant remarks, "If you wish to, brother, you may journey with me though little time will you have to rest here."

Henleg consider the offer for a moment, and then he slowly smiles. "Well, I can always rest when we get back, as the lands
south of Lothlorien are afe to travel. We have saruman, who's a friend, and the Rohirrim, who don't like stangers, yet are
fair Men. And beyond that there's Gondor", he adds, as his voice dies again at the prospect of seeing with his own eyes this
fabled land.

"Alas, so much talk of journey's, especially around someone such as I." Galharth says with a half hearted chuckle. "Should
you require the skills of a tailor at your journey's end, remember to look me up!"

Grinning at one and then the other, he hesitantly rises from the cot. "Now if you gentlemen would be so kind as to pardon
me, I've a journey that I hope will take me to the weavers talan before Anor's rise." With that, the Clothier sets off,
hobbling along with a fair amount of determination.

"Fair well Galharth," says Nauthcel as the Clothier departs before his attention returns to the kin. "You need not make the
decision to travel to Gondor as of yet. We still have to reach the land of Rohan and many leagues light between this land
and that."

"That is true", henleg says, nodding. "Yet, I think I shall go with you. My eyes crave to see Minas Tirith, and the fair
lands of Stoningland", he adds. "And so, if we should depart soon, I should better go get as much rest as I can, for as you
say, the leagues are long between Gondor and Lothlorien. Fare you well, brother. I shall seek you tomorrow when Anor rides
again the skies". And with that Henleg nods to nauthcel, and then goes down the ladder to the Rose Garden.