4/8/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Before Dawn < About 4:14 AM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 38 Iavas <Autumn>
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: Tue Apr 08 11:24:56 2008
=====================================================================
Green Roadway - Northwestern Arc - Crafters Path
Lamps of green and gold and silver shed light on the Green Roadway as it stretches around the arboreal city of Caras Galadhon, and on to the city gates. The trunks of the mighty mellyrn rise like massive silver pillars to either side of the roadway, and their great boughs buttress a vault of gold and green high above. Here on a leveled spot of the path, worn green stones meet red as a stairway threads its way further up the hill.

Across the road to the west, opposite of the hill, a wooden structure seems to materialize from the boughs overhead into a great talan. By the stylized flames wrought in silver and gold along the wooden frames, it appears to be the Hall of the Crafters. Not far beyond that at the base of the very same tree, a small low building rests with the white puffs of steam rising from its windows: the Smithy.

Contents:

Galadriel

It is a particularly still time of the night, when songs have faded to reverie and the whole forest seems to be holding its breath for the morn. Still, there is movement, subtle and respectful of the dark: occasionally a bird will flit across the path in search of a better roost, or some small animal will unsettle the forest floor. Or some golden lady may traverse the lamplit path on an unknown errand.

Galadriel's pace is unhurried, but her destination seems sure as she draws closer to the Hall of Crafters.

Moving down to the roadway from the Hall of Crafters, a silent figure moves in the pre-dawn hours with some sense of purpose. Silvery hair upon a lowered head glistens in the last of twilight as he moves. "No time like the present...." he mutters softly as he nears the roadway. As he sets foot upon the Green Roadway, the tailor looks up, as if sensing something. Catching sight of the Lady, a smile springs up upon his face and he lifts a hand in greeting. "Well met, Lady Galadriel. t'is good to see someone other than myself already up and about in the early morn."

Galadriel too smiles, though it is expressed more by her eyes than her mouth, "Well met, indeed, Galharth. For it is you that I have come to find."

"Oh?" The Craftsmaster says as he comes to a halt. "Are you in need, my Lady? For I will be more than glad to help in any way."

"Not I," replies Galadriel. "But during our previous meeting around the mirror, I sensed that you ..." she pauses to choose the right word, "were perhaps weighed down by something. A distraction or trouble of some kind? I have wondered since about it." Her expression is curious and kindly.

Galharth's right hand dips into the pocket of his robe, as he grows quiet in thought. Fingers move slowly within the folds of the pocket and the soft tinkling sounds of metal upon metal sings gently into the pre-dawn air. "A number of things weigh upon my mind," the Tailor finally says. "Perhaps this is why I was drawn to your glade when last we spoke." Falling silent once more the Craftsmasters right hand continues to toy with the hidden treasure. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders, and says, "I suppose it is my consideration of a some time alone on a private exploration of my thoughts. In a way, I suppose it is much like the mirrors reading you gave Rhibi several years back."

Galadriel's eyes remain focusued upon Galharth's face; the item in his pocket either not consequential or not a mystery to the Lady of the Wood. "Surely none would fault you for taking time away from your duties as Craftmaster to explore - either physically or spiritually. If youu seek my leave, you may have it. If you seek something else, I shall endeavor to provide. Shall we redouble our efforts upon the riverbottom?"

"No," Galharth says flatly as he withdraws his hand from his pocket, drawing forth the delicate chain. Starlight glistens over the curves of the chain, bringing for a warm inviting glow. "I found this on the day before our visitors arrived," The Tailor says as he holds up the chain. Suspended from the chain, a intricately carved bird swings.

Crystal blue eyes focus upon the treasure for a long moment as silence settles over the path. When he speaks next, the Craftsmaster almost seems startled by the sound. "I think my curiosity only intrudes upon the past." Looking from the necklace to the Lady, he tilts in a manner that reflects embarrassment. "I can not sort through my own hopes and thoughts, and yet I push forth to intrude upon the memory of one long resting in the past. I think perhaps I should stop now and focus upon my own purpose."

Extending a hand, the crafter offers the necklace. "Perhaps, as with the knife, this should go into your care."
Galadriel has taken a step towards the tailor even before the necklace is proferred, her eyes upon the dangling thing, though for only a few seconds. She then turns her attention to Galharth's eyes and the twisting reflection of the precious bird held therein. "Galharth," begins the Lady quietly, and accepting the necklace from him at the same time, "I shall neither agree nor disagree with you right now. For it could be that the best thing for you to do would be to sever all ties to the ship and even to the River itself. But it could also be that these things continue to find their way into your hands for a reason."

She pauses and looks down at the bird in her palm, twisting the chain once, twice around her hand before turning away from it. Her empty palm she lays upon the tailor's arm, "It is not my decision to be made and here, tonight, I offer no advice. But, should you find yourself desirous of some, then you may come again to the Mirror..." The rest is implied and she turns her eyes away, lowering her hand from him. "Do you think that someday, when you stand upon some other shore, that you should want the story of your life upon this one to be a mystery?"

Galharths eyes remain upon the pendant as it leaves his grasp. As it moves so too does the Tailor. Crossing foot over foot, he circles the Lady until he stands not before her, but beside her. "Possiblities are endless. Either Ulmo has set forth an effort to keep me from his keep, I've not yet attained the wisdom needed to hear the tale to be told, or the most likely fact that a ship merely sunk in the river that borders our lands." Closing his eyes slowly, the Craftsmaster moves slowly as if by sense, returning to his place before the Lady with his eyes now open and downcast. "I wish no mystery, but then I can not bear to be nothing save a talented Tailor, for in my heart I desire somthing I can not describe." Looking up in the the fair face of Galadriel, his expression is one of confusion. "Are the Gwaith ever to bear the desires of perfection unattainable by most?" Looking to to the Ladys hand, his eyes search for the chain, and upon finding it absent, he calms. "Alas, perhaps I'm just overworked and need a small rest."

"In your words, I hear the echo of my own voice," the Lady's reply is gentle, but sober. "For as I stand before you in this realm, surrounded by a people that honor me daily, I admit to you in the quiet of this place that my heart is ever full of want for more." A certain coarseness enters her voice now, "None that are happy with their lot will ever be great, Galharth. And the great, unfortunately, shall never be truly happy. This is something you must come to accept I think. Or better yet, do not accept it and do not stand still or talented tailor you shall ever be. " Her golden brows knit together and her blue eyes are stormy and full of all her years.

"Alas, it is said that the time of elves comes to an end, and what I might desire is sure to be lost in the turmoil of the first born relinquishing all to the second born. Thus is the lot of those born in the dwindling years. My own path will certainly be far from remarkable, and that is fine for peace is a pleasant path." Galharth says with a bittersweet smile that shows no disappointment.

Moving his head to an opposite tilt, the Tailor smiles warmly, "You've seen the ages Lady Galadriel, all that is good, and sadly all that is evil, and yet from afar I see a great happiness forged between yourself and the Lord Celeborn. It comforts me somehow to know that even the most difficult of paths can find happiness." His smile grows slightly and he raises his head. "All aside, regardless of where I go from here, I hope you enjoy the necklass, as it compliments you for it certainly crosses the ages."

Galadriel's eyes dim as the fire dwindles and she raises them to the sky to search out the night's last stars in the brightening sky. "And yet, after all the ages past, evil is not left behind," she replies quietly, eyes skill upcast. "Though it may be true that our years are shortening, there are still tales left untold - yours not least among them, brother. And while I will be glad if your path is forever one of peace, I would beseech you to always keep your eyes up and ahead for what may come next." She clasps her hands behind her back, removing all trace now of the necklace, "I pray that our conversation has brought you a little ease. You know you may find me again should you have a need."

"While I know not why, this conversation has indeed eased my mind." Galharth admits, though clearly confused as to why. A slight shrug of one shoulder seems to bring him full circle and he offers Galadriel a smile and a bow of his head. "Either by way of your manner or your wisdom, it is as always a pleasure to speak with you, Lady Galadriel." Stepping northwards he offers a final glance. "Thank you," he says as he turns and moves northwards along the path, leaving behind the Lady and an ancient treasure."