3/20/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Evening < About 6:35 PM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 52 Laer <Summer>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <VISIBLE>
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: Thu Mar 20 08:11:58 2008
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Royal Chamber
The chamber is filled with a soft light; its walls are green and silver and its roof gilt with gold. At the center grows the smooth, straight trunk of its mallorn, tapering to its crown at this height and yet making still a pillar of solid girth. A wide flet built upon its strongest branches supports the vast oval chamber.

Canopied by living boughs, two chairs sit side by side in the shadow of the mallorn bole. At the edge of the hall across the chairs, a white ladder leads down towards the hilltop far below.

Contents:
Galharth
Celeborn

The shimmering colors of the dwindling sunlight cascades from the west, over the protected realm of Lothlorien as evening takes hold. Song is at it's height, and sweet elven voices mingle with the delicate chirping of birds who settle down for the night. With the colors of changing time, so too do the scents of nature ripen and grow seductively deeper as the light fades.

Into this, the Tailor Galharth steps up to the Guards outside the Royal Chamber. Whispering softly to one, he provides his request to visit with the Lord.

The chamber is mostly empty, as are the chairs that sit in the center of the room. Celeborn stands off to one side at a railing, his hands resting gently on the warm, living tree that forms the balcony. His eyes are on the forest before him, stretched out to the four corners and framed in the distance by looming, snow-capped mountains. His face bears no sorrow, not now... not as the sun sets beyond the soaring peaks in hues of orange, purple, and red.

From the entrance, the Guard moves swiftly, making no sound, towards Celeborn. He pauses a few feet from the regal figure. "Lord Celeborn? You have a visitor." The Young Guard says softly, "The Craftsmaster Galharth requests an audience."

Celeborn turns his head towards the guard and looks beyond him to the Craftmaster. A smile appears at the corners of his mouth as he tells the young Squire, "You may assume from here on that I always have time for Master Galharth. Anyone that brings such joy to my Lady commands my respect and attention, and she does go on about his talent."

Again, he looks past the guard and waves for the crafter to join him.

Bowing his head, the guard steps back. "I shall see that the information is passed on to all," he says as he turns and moves swiftly to the entrance. As he approaches the Craftsmaster, the Guard places his hand upon his chest. "The Lord will see you, sir, you are most welcome to proceed."

Smiling warmly, Galharth nods. "Many thanks." he says before proceeding into the chamber. Pausing only a moment, the Crafter scans the area and heads immediately in the direction of Lorien's most noble figure.

"Well met, Lord Celeborn, and thank you for your time." He says as he nears. Holding his smile, the warmth he holds in his features radiate upwards to meet his eyes. "I've a few matters that need addressed, and hopefully they will not linger as a problem too long after they are brought forth."

Celeborn's forehead creases slightly as he welcomes the crafter, "Your expression inspires confidence that all is well, yet you speak to me of "matters" and "problems". So, tell me, what could it be that troubles you, yet brings a smile to your face, for it is puzzling to me." He pauses, then chuckles, "Or not so puzzling when one considers the company that you have been known to keep. I have heard tales of a friend of yours who seems to enjoy trouble quite a bit.... could it be that she has encouraged a change in one who has always been as placid as the mirrored surface of my Lady's basin?"

Innocence, or at least the very picture of the word, sweeps over the Craftsmasters expression as the smile held faulters to a blank stare. "I know not of what you speak, my Lord. Is not the severity of trouble defined or perhaps evaluated by the number of solutions that might bring forth resolution?"

With the words released, the smile returns, and Galharth adds his own chuckle to mingle with the last sounds of the Lord's own merriment. "The matters I bring are first of the housing of the Crafters Guild, and the shops within." He says as the smile fades to one of intense concern. "The forges that burn along the outskirts of the city, are hot, for no else could it be to bring for the wares produced by out smiths." Pausing for a breath, he continues, "We had a fire recently as a flicker from the forges set fire to the branches of the nearby bakery. It brought forth a great fear that it could have been worse." Tilting his head, he peers into Celeborns eyes, "We now ask to relocate the forges to a place that affords safty for our residents."

"I think that's a rather dry interpretation of trouble," Celeborn responds with a smile. "I have known trouble which had no solution, yet brought me joy untold. Trouble that nearly tore me in two, but has made me more than I ever imagined I could be. Trouble that many said was not worth the pain and suffering, and yet has been that which I live for each and every day." He motions towards Galadriel's empty chair and smiles.

And the smile doesn't falter as he considers Galharth's querry, but answers with a question of his own, "You have somewhere in mind?"

"Should I live the days you have, my Lord, then perhaps I will have cause to share such views," Galharth says with a smile, "But as it is, my exposure is rather limited, and prior to the past year, my greatest whoa was the amuzement the squirrels held with my button box." At that the Tailor's smile grows so that it reaches the very corners of his eyes. "We have endless time, and for the moment, I welcome it."

Returning to the matter presented, the Craftsmaster shakes his head. "An exact location? No. We thought perhaps near the mines north of the Naith, but our smiths are now searching." Pausing he brings his arms up and he crosses them neatly over his chest. "I thought, perhaps, that you might know of someplace suitable."

Celeborn takes but a moment to pause and consider before speaking his thoughts aloud to the tailor. "It seems to me that alot of our time and effort are wasted with tasks that, while necessary, are perhaps not being handled correctly. I think keeping the smithy near the mines is a good idea, but why not consider the wood that is needed to keep the fires lit? Is it any less important than the ore used to create our weapons and armor?" He pauses again, cocks his head slightly, and finishes his thought. "I might look for a safe place between the two areas: mine, and usable growth."

"Is there such a place upon the well traveled paths that now exist?" Galharth says as he looks outwards into the treetops that stretch out from the great tree. "I admit some level of inexperience on the matter, but I do know a need when it is presented." Lifting his right hand, from his crossed arms, the Tailor places a bent finger upon his chin in careful consideration. "I shall speak with the smiths, and perhaps the foresters as well. The minds of many are sure to bring forth an answer that suits our need."

Sighing, he drops his hand to rest once more over his chest, the Craftsmaster turns to look at Celeborn. "The other matter is one brought to you by Earsul regarding the awards to our braver folk." He says pausing as if to search for some change in the Lord's expression, "I spoke with one of my smiths on that matter, and she seems more than willing to aid you in the medallion's development."

"Your definition of well-traveled and mine might differ greatly, Galharth." Celeborn says with a chuckle, "But I think there is a place that might do well for this purpose, though provisions will need to be made. It is still within Lothlorien's embrace, but it has strategic significance. Perhaps a move there will inspire growth, a foundation for us to build upon to secure our borders...." He trails off, lost in thought.

Galharth's querry about honors brings him back from the borders, his eyes still on the now-dark horizon. He sighs. "I speak of grand ambition, yet cannot see through a simple task. Yes, the awards... idling in the back of my mind, rarely coming forth and taking precedence, as they should. There are others that need to be consulted, as I am not sure what the Lady had in mind, but I am sure we will need a crafter or two to help make our visions a reality."

"Where is this place, of which you speak?" Galharth says as his arms fall to his side in a manner that suggests a focused interest in the Lord's words. "I had only considered a move for the forges to a point well within the guarded edge of our lands. Do you now suggest something that lays much closer to the outside world?"

"I implied nothing with the inquiry on the Awards, Lord Celeborn. While they are certainly a gesture of thanks to those who serve our peoples, it is a greater service to keep us safe and in contentment from the ravages of the world outside." As the Craftsmaster speaks, his right hand rises slightly so that it rests gently over his heart. "Perhaps while you confer with the Lady on the matter, I could set the smiths to develop some trinket that might serve for presentation as a token? We'd be glad to help in some small way to offer thanks to those who've put forth efforts such as they have."

"I think I should like to go there, myself, and see if it is as I remember it." Celeborn replies, "But do not fear, for the place that I am thinking is well-protected. To the north-west of Caras Galadhon it lies... an outpost there could serve to hold our border in a region that is little-populated. There are many who will need to be consulted, both crafters and Order, alike, but that is for another day. And try as you might, the importance of the awards cannot be lessened to accommidate a bruised ego. I did not do those people a service by putting other matters before them, and it should not be excused. Without the care and devition of its people, where would Lothlorien be? To ignore their deeds is a great dishonor."

The otherwise quiet and well-behaved Eriant Patrol stir and straighten up for a reason that is not apparent until several seconds later. Galadriel arrives at the top of the stair then; a basket upon her arm, a baguette in the basket. She pauses a moment, noting the meeting of her husband and the Craftmaster. Gauging the nature of the conversation by Celeborn's expression, one that she knows better than her own. Instead of immediately approaching, she makes a deferential bow of her head to husband, the formality only slightly tainted by a gentle smile upon her lips.

Taking a step towards Celeborn, the Tailor's hand falls from his chest. "I would go with you, should you wish it, for I know the dangers are many for those who travel alone." With that said, Galharth's head hangs, for indeed the Lord's words hang heavy. "Perhaps then, this visit is a reminder, so that amends can be made for those who serve..." he says, allowing his words to fade softly.

Looking up, the Craftsmaster catchs sight of Galadriel, and if by habit, or perhaps genuine joy, he smiles. "Well met, Lady Galadriel."

Celeborn looks at the Lady with eyebrow arched as he approaches her, her smile mirrored in his expression. He gives a short glance to the bread and says, in lowered tones, "Temptress. You came here to distract me, knowing full-well how I feel about baked goods. But it won't work this time. Galharth has reminded me of a terribly important matter that I have let slip by, forgotten, for too long, and I will not be distracted." He looks away, airily, then adds, "Unless there's butter."

"Oh?" says Galadriel, giving both men a look of utter solemnity and as she does so shifting the basket so that she hides it behind her back, concealing the object of distraction. "Then consider it motivation instead. Complete your task and then you should be rewarded...for there is fresh butter in the anteroom. " She shoots the Lord of the Wood a coy smile, thus shattering her faux sobriety.

The teasing melts into a genuine and kind smile as she turns to the Craftmaster, "Well met, indeed, Galharth. I happened to catch a bit of your conversation upon my entrance. I must ask your forgiveness for myself, for allowing a matter of importance to pass from our minds."

Chuckling softly, a faint color rises up in the cheeks of the Tailor, "It seems my Lord, he who appears to be powerful is in some sense powerless." Glancing from one to the other, a twinkle flickers in the Crafters eyes. "I trust that you know that the Gwaith-I-Thein shall do all within our power to assure that the Lord gets his pastries."

"No forgiveness is required, my Lady, for we all have moments when we need reminders, but with those reminders put forth, I now fear the Lord's words of his intent to travel forth to inspect a potential site for the forges." As Galharth speaks, he turns to look upon the ancient figure. "Again, sir, I offer to accompany you, if only to offer what aid I can in finding a productive space for our forges."

Celeborn looks with suprise from Galadriel to the tailor, "Is my safety a matter of concern within the wood? Should I be fearing what may lurk upon our borders and avoid stepping foot outside this realm?" He shakes his head softly, "If you wish to accompany me for the sake of the task, then I would be glad to have you along, but do not go if you worry for what might happen to me. I would never suggest a place that could be dangerous to my people, so if I am incapable of going there alone..."

Galadriel glances at Galharth, seeming to judge the intent of his words. She herself says nothing, however, having no part in this particular conversation.

The color tinting the Tailor's cheeks grows in depth. "T'would not be the first time I've overstepped myself, even when intentions are good." Galharth says as he lowers his gaze slightly. "I would like to accompany you, for the task itself."

Celeborn nods, "I will see to it that the Order is represented, as their opinions will matter in the descision-making process, as well. It will be interesting to have you there, Galharth, as I forsee discussions of form and function for what we have planned."

With the matter of the forges seemingly settled for now, Galadriel speaks up. "As to the awards, I propose that we select a firm date to present them, and schedule for that same date a great feast that will assure all are present. A feast of..." Here the golden lady pauses to think, her gaze and mind drifting beyond the great tree. "There is a boar which has been troubling the pasture: rooting up the grass and scaring the ewes. I will suggest to the Master of the Hunt that he be our guest of honor....after those receiving awards of course." She smiles, pleased with her idea.

"Who within the Order might be called for input upon the matter of the Forges location?" Galharth says after a moments consideration. "The Commander Legarwin is a smith by his own right, so perhaps he and another might offer a full reflection of the matter?"

To the Lady, the Craftsmaster face lights with joyful agreement. "A wonderful idea! Solving another matter whilst presenting appreciation and good tidings to one and all." Drawing his hands together before him in a single clap, the Crafters expression hides none of his excitement at the events to come.

Celeborn nods decisively, "Indeed, she is amazing! A date shall be set, but first: a meeting with your smith. I would appreciate your aid in arranging this, Galharth." He looks up at the gradually lightening sky, "And now, I must take my leave. The Order should be contacted... and it need not be Legarwin, but he would be preferred. I know well that his duty does not always allow for the lenience that you and I have, to leave at a moment's notice for what I hope will be a joyful expedition."