3/4/2008

Galadriel's Bedchamber
The room is dominated by a large feather bed in the middle, with a frame that is carved into the likeness of Telperion, the tree of Valinor. There are windows hidden in the leaves that are the walls, all over the room, making the room bright with light at all hours. There are lamps scattered through the room that give off a soft glow. The walls are also covered with soft woven tapestries made by Galadriel's hand. Near a large window are two branch-made chairs with cushions on them. A table nearby holds a tea set and some biscuits on a plate. The room is decorated modestly, and it holds no clue as to who the owner of the place is.

Contents:
Galharth
Galadriel


This room is filled with the late morning su which casts a golden glow upon everything and blesses the whole place with a pleasing warmth. The middle of the floor has been cleared of everything except for a plush round rug; footstools, piles of books, and a tea tray have all been pressed back to the boundaries of the room to make room for something.

Galadriel herself is at home and sitting at her writing desk. She is dressed sparely in only a plain white shift; her hair is loose upon her back and her feet are bare.

A soft tapping sound comes at the entrance, followed by a strange swishing sound. The light of morning filters through the doorway to reveal the Tailor Galharth burdened with an armful of delightfully delicate garments. "Lady Galadriel?" the Clothier calls out, "I've brought several gowns for your review."

Stepping into the doorway entrance, he pauses as his gaze falls upon the Lady. "May I come in?"

Galadriel raises her head at the knock with a look of expectancy. She rises at the entrance of the tailor, her eyes immediately upon the fabrics, "Right on time, mellon!" She pads silently across the floor and gestures to the bed, "Put them anywhere." She follows him closely and eagerly but does not dare to touch the cloth yet. "This is more than I expected. I shall have to hold court twice as often to show them all off!"

Treading across the room, the fabric swirls around the Tailor's legs in a billowing wave of color. The sound of fabric against fabric sounds almost as sweet as a song. "It was quite difficult to select the colors, for it seemed that each would pale in comparison to your natural beauty." Galharth says as he carefully lays the gowns atop he bed. "I think the blue would serve you the best, but these others might catch your eye." From the blue, the clothier places a green, a yellow, a pink, an off white, a white, and finally a dress that seems almost irridecent as it's color seems to adjust with the movement of shadows and light. Sweeping his fingers over the last dress, a small frown appears upon the Tailor's face. "This one almost reminds me of the waters in which the ship still lays," he comments softly.

Galadriel immediately lays her slender fingers upon the fabrics as the land upon the bed. At the tailor's final remark her eyes move to his face and she pauses, considering a reply. She decides to say nothing, for now, and instead picks up the yellow dress. She turns toward the full length mirror at the end of the bed and holds it before her, "I do not think I would choose yellow, though it would be lovely on Arwen..." She turns back towards the bed. "You know of course, I am partial to white," a hint of a smile, "but this one...the river colored one.." She takes it up and with a few graceful movements lets it fall over head and done over her shift. It stirs about her ankles and she considers herself in the mirror, "It is to be worn at night, don't you think?"

A smile replaces the Tailor's frown, and he nods. "Indeed, the Lady Arwen's coloring seems well suited to the color yellow. With her fair complexion and dark hair, the yellow would seem as warm as the sun itself." Galharth says firmly as his eyes scan the remaining dresses.

Watching as the iridescent dress falls as a cloud over the Lady's form, the clothier's smile widens. "With its unique color and shimmer, I would say that it would draw attention if worn at night." the Craftsmaster says as he takes a step around the Lady, inspecting the line of the dress and the fall of the hem. "It would direct your natural glow so that you would shine as a star with each step." Chuckling softly, he looks up into Galadriel's face. "The cut and fabric are rather becoming on you."

"Galharth, you know just what to say to a lady," she replies with a cunning smile as she turns to examine the back of the dress. "It only needs to be taken in a little here I think, " she pinches the side seams to show him. From the mirror, back to the bed; already, her eyes are upon the blue dress still there.

Moving quickly around to view the back of the dress, Galharth leans over to carefully examine the seam. "I had thought to leave a little room for comfort, but clearly I miscalculated the need." Reaching out, the Tailor carefully pinches the fabric and moves a short distance along the seam. Taking a step to the opposite side, he repeats the measurement. "It shouldn't take much to fix this." he says as he straightens up.

Looking over his shoulder, his brow furrows slightly. "While each dress is a different cut, they will all require some adjustment of the back." Sweeping a hand towards the bed, he looks to the Lady. "Which would you like to try next?"

Being the late arrival to a royal fitting can be a rather embarrassing position to be in, but lateness is one of Nioniel's specialties. The elleth enters Galadriel's bedchamber very cautiously, trying her best to not draw attention to herself and her tardiness; but it is all to no avail. Upon entering the room, she sidles along the wall to avoid being seen, and somehow manages to abruptly end the silent entry by falling over a chair and landing sprawled on the talan floor with a stunned "Oof!".

"The blue, I think...." replies Galadriel, but her voice trails off at the sudden "oof" behind them. She spins to face the fallen Nioniel and arches an eyebrow. "Well met, Nioniel." She steps forward and offers the seamstress her hand.

Amaldir knocks on the entrance to Galadriel's bedchamber, then enters cautiously. He glances from one to another of the group inside, the Lady, and her two out-fitters. Then he clears his throat, and bows quickly, before announcing "My lady, one of our scouts has arrived back from a small journey. He brings news which may concern you."

Turning as Nioniel enters, the Tailor is startled by the seamstresses fall. Gasping, he turns quickly, holding a hand against his chest. "For a moment, I thought perhaps it was a squir....." as quickly as the words had begun, they come to a quick halt as Galharth clamps his mouth shut. As Amaldir enters, his attention is quickly turned to the new arrival and he tilts his head expectantly as he moves to Nioniel's side.

Blushing crimson, Nioniel buries her face in her hands for a moment as she lays sprawled on the floor. Glancing up through her fingers at Galadriel, she smiles wryly and accepts the kind offer for assistance.

"Thank you, my Lady," she says quietly.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, the elleth brushes at her own rumpled skirt and pretends to have some shreds of dignity left in her being - though it's doubtful that she looks convincing.

Glacing up as Amaldir enters with his message, Nioniel offers a nervous nod in greeting ... but at the moment, she can't seem to bring herself to look the Tailor in the eye.

So much for a quiet morning trying on dresses. With Nioniel returned safely to her feet, the Lady begins to turn towards the coveted blue gown just as the messenger arrives. She sighs a little, but in a good-natured way, "Ah, but brother, ALL news concerns me. But before I go to hear it, you must tell me what you think of my new dress?" She runs her hands down her, then waits expectantly for an answer from Amaldir.

Amaldir smiles wryly, "Well of course, my lady, it suits you well. Although the beauty the Valar clearly gifted you plays no small part in it, and I rather expect that only a truly incompetent Tailor could trivialise your beauty." He nods his head slightly, towards the fine lady, then the smile fades. "Now, about the news I bring. It is dire, I am afraid. Maglind returned, from south-east of Naith. He reports sighting of an Orc, possibly more, and he was injured whilst pursuing it. He is back now, and seeks your counsel."

"Maglind?" Galharth says taking a step forward towards Amaldir. "Injured?" Worry radiates over the Tailors expression as he turns towards the Lady. "I myself had an encounter with the beasts to the Southeast of Naith, on the shore opposite the Long Lawn. The Foresters await the time that the area is deemed safe so that they might come to aid the trees damaged by the dark beings actions."

Glancing back towards Amaldir, the crafter tilts his head. "Is there any news about how badly the Warden was injured?"

Amaldir sighs; "It is no threat to his life, although his leg was badly gashed, and it appears the Orc used a poisioned blade. He is being treated now, and within a few days, he will be fit enough to venture out again."

Nioniel can't help but grin as Amaldir compliments Galadriel's new gown, but her expression darkens all too soon. Her own deep blue eyes fill with concern upon hearing of Maglind's injuries and she gasps with a startled gesture, "But, that is dreadful!" and nearly knocks a lamp off of its stand. Thankfully her clumsiness does not win this time though and she steadies it.

In the midst of Galharth's worrying, the Lady has slipped on her shoes and tamed her hair slightly with a small barrette. She shows neither worry, nor surprise at the news of either Amaldir or Galharth, "My Lord has taken taken Counsel with the Commander, but perhaps it is time to move on from 'wait and see'. Thank you for the news, sir. I should see to Maglind - poison is no simple thing to treat. Galharth, I regret that we must cut our session short, but there will be time yet. In the meantime, I shall take this gown for a tour of the healing talan. I wish you all a good morning."

Concern is clearly written on the Tailor's expression as he turns to Nioniel. "He's put off seeing the Armorsmith about his Ringmail," he says to the Seamstress, "I'll be sure to make sure he follows up and gets the protection fitting of his duties. As I do that, would you mind seeing to his clothing repairs?"

As the Lady speaks, the Craftsmaster bows his head. "I'll return another time to see to the adjustments. Maglind's injuries are certainly more important." Watching as Galadriel departs, he turns to her bed and quickly gathers the gowns over his right arm. Turning to the others he nods towards the door. "Perhaps we should step out into the hall?"

Very serious now, Nioniel solemnly listens to Galharth and nods, "Yes, of course. I would be more than happy to see it done... I do hope that he will be alright," her voice trails off as Galadriel leaves.

Without another word, or rather in silent agreement, the elleth nods at the Tailor's suggestion, turns about swiftly and slips out the door past Amaldir.

Amaldir nodded as the Tailor pointed towards the door. It seemed unfitting, in a regard, to be in the Lady's bedchamber for too long, especially when she wasn't present either. He turned to Galharth & Nioniel, "I really must go back to see Maglind. When he arrived he was quite incoherent, and I'm not entirely sure I understood him. Whatever sorcery was acting upon him should have been purged now, and he should be back to consciousness. Then I can find out the full story."