4/15/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Night < About 3:30 AM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 2 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Last Quarter <HIDDEN>
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: Tue Apr 15 11:10:23 2008
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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
Turwaithiel


Turwaithiel glanced out the window hardly aware that so much time had passed. Indeed in light of recent events she was graetfull to have something to work at. However she had been here for hours and even that ahd grown tiresome. She allowed herself a minute or two of idleness and her attention was drawn to the view of the night sky and the fact the stars seemed most bright that night. She ran a hand though her hair in an effort to smooth it aware of the fact that she had probaly left a trail of soot on her cheek, but then there was no one here to see it.

The whisper of cloth rustling is suddenly added to the gentle crackle of the forges ever burning flames. Pausing at the entrance, Galharth smiles as he watches the elleth decorate her hair. "Creating a new fashion statement?" He calls out with a cheerful tone. "I can't say it'll be a hit amongst the ladies, but every land has it's rebels." Stepping forward, he turns and gazes at the fires a moment, before looking back towards Turwaithiel. "Am I disturbing any projects?"

Turwaithiel turns as a sound behind her catches her attention. She looks a little sheepish to be caught in such a state but does her best to quickly regain her compusre. " You will have to excuse my appearence I had planned on making myself presentable before I left. No your not distrubing anything major I was not doing anything that can not wait. But what brings you here? I do not think you would frequent such a place."

Drawing his hands behind his back, the Craftsmaster lifts his chin as he listens to the Weaponsmith speak. "We all forget our appearances at time, especially when engrossed in our work. Speaking of which...." he says, drawing his gaze towards the forge. "I've reconsidered my request to have my dagger reworked." Sighing heavily, he looks back to the elleth. "I think I'd be more comfortable having a Journeyelf do the work."

Turwaithiel nods. "I think I more than most at times. As for that it is nothing do not worry about, its completly understandable. As a matter of fact I have had a lot on my mind as it is. I think many of us have." She manages to shake free of a little more ash and smooths the little pile with her foot. "Truth be told I am still feeling a bit taken back by the recent run in with the skunk and perhaps what may come of it."

"Skunk?" Galharth asks with no small amount of surprise. Blinking several times, confusion flashes over his expression. "Your work is being interferred with by a skunk?" Turning from the elleth, he quickly scans the area and turns to look out the door. "He's not still around is he?"

Turwaithiel can't help but laugh at the reaction. "Do not fear there is no skunk here. I thought every one would have heard by now. Noiniel and myself where in the pasture three perhaps four days ago when we saw movement in the bush and her dog ran towards it. Thinking that perhaps the thing in the bush maybe what ever it is that is lurking about she went in for a closer look and got covered in skunk spray as a reward. Alas she will not step foot inside the gates until she is smell free. I was to inform her ranger friend of the fact but he may have left for all I know. Which may be for the best I believe she was becoming fond of him."

Relief quickly appears upon the Tailor's face. "I've been on the border seeking potenial locations for the forge for the last few days." He mutters as he seems to consider the news. As his eyes refocus, he tilts his head. "Has she bathed in a mixture of soda powder and the wound cleaning liquid yet?" Galharth asks. "If not, I'm sure Istaril or one of the healers can gather the solution to her scent."

"Now... in regards to the Dagger, I have someone in mind if you wouldn't mind discussing it." the Craftsmaster adds quickly.

Turwaithiel shakes her head. "As far as I know she has not. In truth we had not thought of that. I haven't much experence with removing skunk I fear. Have you fond a place that could work yet? For all the talk of staying close it seems that no one is listening to themselves, of course I suspect most of it is just that talk." Despite such words the movement of branch outside causes her to start slightly and she quickly changes the subject. "I don not mind at all, so tell me what you are thinking."

"To be honest, I'm not comfortable with the areas reviewed," the Craftsmaster says as he pulls his hands forward to tuck into the pockets of his robe. "And that discomfort is due to the talk about drawing inwards to strenthen ourselves against the coming tides of darkness. Lord Celeborn holds greater confidence in our security than I so the locations we first reviewed are based on his thoughts."

"About the dagger?" Galharth says as he returns to the matter for which he now owes the visit. "Several Masters here at the smithy have told me of a talented upcoming smith." He says as he withdraws his left hand from his pocket. Waving his hand to flow with his words he continues. "I thought to have the dagger done by this smith, if only to test the skills I've heard about."

Turwaithiel is silent for a few moments before replying. "Comming darkness indeed. It seems like that is all one hears about any more, well there is nothing to be done about that. But you are right there may be those are are not comfortable with being so far removed. On the other hand we can not live our lives as though the sky will fall on our heads. But enough of that so, who is smith you speak of? If I had a name I could quiet easily point you in their direction."

"Ah yes, that...." Galharth says as he withdraws his right hand. Stepping closer to the elleth, he smiles as he extends the a finely polished ring laced with silver decoration of scrolls and leaves. The silver reflects a burst of flame from the forge, and a twinkle of brilliant light flickers between the edhel. "I had hoped to spark some emotion, be it pride or disappointment so to make what I am to do more meaningful and treasured. But that is not to be. Clearly you reflect all that is good and just about the Gwaith-i=Thein." Bending his head slightly so to offer a warm smile, he adds, "The Masters within the forge speak highly of you Turwaithiel, and all agree that it is time you take on higher duties. As such, as Craftsmaster of the guild, I promote you, and name you Journeyelf."

Turwaithiel stands stunned for a moment before reacting. Taking the ring she stares at it for amoment before deciding what in fact to say. "I...this is most unexpected. I did not think it would be me. I am honored and it is beautifull. Just because I said nothing does not mean I did not care. Its just." She looks away for a second before finishing. "I am not good with emotions I fear it is far easier to act as though nothing effects me rather than risk anthing else. I know that it is often a foolish way to react but I can not help myself."

"Worry not about your reaction, Turwaithiel. In fact I was most impressed by your calm nature." The Craftsmaster say warmly. "And I was quite serious, by the by. I do in fact wish a Journeyelf to do the work on my dagger." Pausing a moment, the Tailor reaches for a small sheath hanging from his belt on his left side. Smoothly, he withdraws the weapon and offers it to the Weaponsmith. "And now it shall be..."

Turwaithiel takes it and gives it a close look. Turning it over a couple of times to get a good look at the blade. Before setting it on a nearby table. "It is wonderfully made I can tell you that now. From this breif look at it I can tell there should be no problem with what you want to be done. I dare say it will be even more lovely to look upon thought that will be a difficult task to improve upon this."

"The only thing I wish, is the decorations added so that it becomes a thing of beauty." Galharth says with a grin. "While it might be hard to believe, my taste for lovely things extends well beyond my clothing."

Running experienced hands down the front of his robes, touching upon the delicate embroidery, he chuckes softly. "Certainly plain accessories seem mismatched when compared to my boots and robes." Looking at the Weaponsmith with a hint of teasing in his eyes, he adds, "Or have you not noticed my quirks?"

Turwaithiel smiles at that last stament. "Oh aye you do have quirks ttrue enough. But then so do we all you can not be alive for long at all with out developing some. Butthey could be worse. Sadly I have never had the skill nor the patience with the needle. Not all of us have that gift and have to relay on others." She give him a once over. "Indeed I wonder how you endured such a plain thing for so long."

While strolling by the Smithy of Lorien, the seamstress Nioniel's sharp elven ears pick up on two familliar voices speaking within. Curiously, she peeps in through the door, just as Galaharth and Turwaithiel are discussing the matter of quirks, and a grin plays softly upon her lips. Entering the room, her eyes sparkle mirthfully: "What's all this talk about the tailor's quirks I hear?"

"Reliance on others is often a pleasant thing, but again it can also lead to arguement." Galharth says as his smile fades a moment as if considering the depth of his words. A new voice draws his attention back to the moment and he turns to welcome the Seamstress. "Well met Nioniel! I see... or rather smell that you've taken care of the effects from your recent encounter." Chuckling again his smile returns. "Quirks? Me? Surely not. It would clash with my outfit."

Turwaithiel nods. "Oh of course it does, but that is to be expected. So long as we have our own views on things there will be differences As a matter of fact I." She drops what ever thugh she may have had when a voice at the door causes her to turn. "It is good to see you again. I see you are fit to be amung company again, pray how did you do it?"

Blushing a little at the mention of her skunk run-in, Nioniel smiles good-naturedly at both Turwaithiel and Galharth: "Yes, it's /almost/ all gone now - the smell I mean, after nearly scrubbing myself to death. I'm distressed to say that I had to give up on my dress, though. After repeated washings, it simply would not cease to stink. Alas, I had to burn it."

Pausing to glance between tailor and weaponsmith with one eyebrow raised, she asks curiosuly, "What brings you two together today? I hope I haven't interrupted any important business ... "

Drawing in a deep breath, a look of puzzelment sweeps over the Tailor's expression. "Perhaps a memory of the scent lingers in your mind, for I don't smell anything amiss." Galharth says after a moments pause. "I am however sorry to hear about your dress, but I suppose considering your trade, replacements were aplenty."

At the Seamstresses last words, he smiles fully. "Of course it was important business." The Tailor says, "Our dear Turwaithiel here has gained her promotion to Journeyelf."

Turwaithiel cann't help but give a sympathic look at the fate of the dress. "That is to bad, it was a lovely dress. But I suppose it had to be done, the whole thing could have turned out mouch worse. " At the statment she looked briefly at the floor before raising her face again. "I found out about this recently myself, though it is not unwelcomed."

A hint of relief passes Nioniel's face as Galharth tests the air and does not sense any smell amiss now. Smiling appreciatively at Turwaithiel's sympathy over the dress, she nods, "But of course, as he said, I can always make a new dress for myself - no need to despair long of its loss."

Her eyes widen at the news of Turwaithiel's promotion and a smile spreads across her face. Clasping her hands together, she turns to the weaponsmith and beams: "Oh, congratulations, Turwaithiel! You certainly deserve it, by all accounts," she remarks, enthusiastically. Indicating the dagger now held by the newly promoted elleth, she grins: "I see you have a commission already."

"Indeed, well deserved. I know the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel are both keep to speak with her regarding other matters." Galharth says, coughing slightly as if not wishing to elaborate further. "Oh!" he says, quickly turning the topic, "I've heard something about a Boar hunt, and a feast afterwards. Have either of you hard anything on this?"

Turwaithiel gives a curious look but disreguards it as another subject is brought up. "I had heard that there was one near the borders destroying fences and the like. Rumor has it there will be feast afterwards to celebrate the slaying of the beast."

Pondering the boar hunt as Galharth mentions it, Nioniel's expression fades to a more serious one: "Yes, I have heard rumors regarding the hunt; though I've not heard any set date or other elaborations," Here she pauses, touching her chin with her forefinger, glancing toward Turwaithiel: "Well ... aside from the fact that the boar will be given the especial honor of attending the feast afterward, well dressed, I hear."

She speaks seriously, trying not to let a mirthful tone enter her voice as she does so.

"From what I've been told, the beast is tearing up the farmers fields and damaging the pasture as well. One of the Sentinels mentioned that there was a greater concern that it would corner and injure one of the citizens" Galharth says as his gaze turns to the dagger lying on the table. "Perhaps it would do us all well to be sure we're armed if we leave the city."

To Nioniel's words, the Tailor bursts out laughing. "Indeed dressed and set in a position of honor. And surrounded by all manner of tasty things."

Turwaithiel laughs that the image of the boar and his guests status. "Boar can indeed be a creature that should not be taunted. You are perhaps right and even then it may be best not to leave though the gates lightly. This time of year I think that the boar would be welcomed. As would any celebration of late. It would do good to keep peoples mind from things. Surely one feast would not hurt anything."

Grinning quietly at first, Nioniel finally joins in the laughter over the boar and her eyes twinkle merrily. However, she forces a more serious expression finally and gives a little nod to Galharth, "With so much trouble lurking around outside the city, I think you are right,"

Biting her lip and looking down now, the elleth seems to be torn over proceeding to say more. However, she looks up again at both elves and says, "I have decided to take up the bow. Gildor has been kind enough to give me one shooting lesson already."

"I agree, Turwaithiel. It's about time we considered a feast. It's been far too long since the last moments of celebration." Galharth says as his laughter calms. "Certainly we in the Gwaith-i-Thein will be contacted soon to provide all manner of items for the event."

The Craftsmaster' laughter fully calms as he considers the Seamstresses words. "I suppose since your shears are not the most ideal weapon should you come face to face with a Boar, I suppose it's a good thing to learn to use a new weapon." He finally says. "Have you yet commissioned a new bow yet? I'm sure our Weaponsmith can see to your needs."

Turwaithiel gives Nioniel a close look before replying. "Of course I can, you need but to ask. It would not hurt certainlly for you to learn how to wield one. More so if you are forced to leave the city. Even so I would tell you to not go alone. Even if the borders are being closely watched now eyes can not be every where after all. I agree that shears are not the best weapon when hunting boar."

Looking from Galharth to Turwaithiel hopefully, Nioniel smiles once more and says, "Gildor let me use a borrowed bow for our first lesson, but I suppose I should infact commission a bow for my own use ... I would be so grateful if the weaponsmith would be so kind as to make one for me?"

Sighing and looking down at her shears, she chuckles and replies to both, "Well, perhaps not the best weapon in any case for boar hunting, but they are sharp and strong for close combat I should think ... though I hope I never have need to engage in it."

Shaking off the thought she smiles wryly, "I hope this hunt and feast come soon. We need some enjoyment around here."

A brow arches over the Tailor's left eye. "And you Turwaithiel? When will you being to train? Certainly a weaponsmith should gain some skills in the use of their products." Galharth says firmly, as if hinting that his words are more than an inquiry.

A soft chuckle escapes the Tailor's lips. "Was not the Troll the unlikely target of your trusty shears? Certainly he would be quick to bellow his objections to it's finely pointed tip." Looking now from elleth to elleth he asks, "Perhaps I can ask the Lord or Lady as to the scheduling? Certainly we have the need to know."

Turwaithiel stops and considers that statement. "I should at that. I will speak with some one about that soon. You are right it would be for the best. We do need some thing to take peoples mind from things. I have a feeling there shall be frayed nerves soon enough. If we are all to be stuck in the city I think we will need something to keep people away from each other throats."

The ever active forges of Caras Galadhon cast their soft orange glow into the evening, promising warmth, offering perhaps companionship to those who would draw near. Earsul is one of those who would, and he pushes back his cowl as he enters the smithy, for the temperature change is marked, and abrupt. Eyes sparking in the firelight, he surveys the busy room, nodding greetings here and there. Spying Galharth in conversation, he directs his steps that way. "Ah, Craftmaster, just who I was looking for. I wonder if I might borrow one of your smiths?"

Grinning at Galharth's mention of the troll, Nioniel looks to the side, a little embarrassedly. Her expression becomes more worried than anything at the idea Turwaithiel puts forward, however, wondering if people might really end up at each other's throats. As if truely frightened at the thought, the elleth holds her fingers up to her own throat, looking quite pale in the forge's light.

Starting a little at Earsul's entrance, Nioniel recovers herself and bows her head slightly with a nervous smile in greeting to the newly come ellon.

"Do you know which weapon you'd like to use?" Galharth asks the Weaponsmith, "Just as Nioniel is considering, the Longbow would be ideal." Opening his mouth to add more to his thoughts, he closes it quickly as another enters the Smithy. "Earsul? Ah, well met, mellon." He says in quick reply. "Borrow?" He mutters as he turns to Turwaithiel, "Are you open to be borrowed? As he speaks, he misses the Seamstresses moment of discomfort."

Chuckling softly he looks back to Earsul, "I fear that the question on that is more for the lady herself to ask. Though I admit, I'm curious as to what you might need."

Turwaithiel looks deep in though for a moment, "YesI think that a bow may be best. As a matter of fact I am yours to be borrowed, what do you need me for?" She turned her head in time to see the expresion of discomfort on Nioniel face. "Oh do not worry. I am sure that it will not be as bad as all that. I simply meant that tempers may be short with every forced on top of each other as we well be."

Having mostly recovered completely from the frightful thought, the colour returns to Nioniel's cheeks and she begins making her way towards the doorway. She looks back at Turwaithiel before leaving, offering a weak, but sincere smile, "I know what you mean, mellon, don't mind me. It was just something I had not thought of before."

Glancing between Galharth and Earsul, the seamstress smiles again, "I don't wish to impose on your discussion of business. Good evening, to all of you."

With that said, Nioniel slips silently through the doorway and out into the evening air.

"Excellent, I feared that all would be busy with preparations for the feast." Earsul reaches inside his cloak, and pulls out a battered scrap of parchment. Smoothing its creases, he pauses a moment to regard it. "Hmm, hopefully this will do," he mutters, proffering the paper in the general direction of Galharth and Turwaithiel, assuming one of them will take it. "I had one of the Dunedain draw it for me. He had a most delicious wine - brandy, he called it - and said I would need one of these to make it. I believe it's known as a 'still.' Strange word," he adds, as if considering it for the first time.

Turwaithiel leans close to see the drawing. "First we need to catch the thing before there can be any sort of feast." She studies it for a moment. "I see it looks to be a storage for a liquid of some sort. But what is a still and what is it used for. I have never heard of such a thing."

Lifting a hand to stop the Seamstresses quick departure, "But you do not...." he starts to say, then falls silent as the elleth is gone with such speed that there is little he can do, save lower his hand.

Turning back to Earsul and his drawing, he leans in to peer at the sketch. "Brandy? It think I've heard of it," Galharth says softly as he inspects the drawing. "We were just speaking of the feast just before you arrived," he mutters as his eyes flicker over the technical aspects of the picture. "If you could manage it, this would certainly be a treat well received, and highly unexpected."

Turning to look at Turwaithiel, he tilts his head. "Do you think you could provide him with the metalwork to build this?"

Smiling, Earsul brushes aside the smith's concern. "I've not heard of an unsuccesful hunt yet, not for a feast like this. Though I admit I don't always examine the meat too closely," he adds, with a slight frown. "No matter. The feast beckons apace, whatever will be served." Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he gestures at the diagram. "Apparently, if we boil wine in this.. thing.. provided we do it correctly, we will somehow end up with brandy, which is a most warming, rich spirit." Earsul's frown returns. "I admit I do not fully grasp the details yet, I will have to seek out the Dunadan once more. He enjoyed my wine almost as much as I his brandy, so I'm sure he'll be most forthcoming." I would indeed like to present this to the Lord and Lady at the feast, as you say, Galharth."

Turwaithiel stops to think. "I believe so. It does not seem overly complex and it would be a good gift. Something new will give a lot of happy folk. But sadly I am needed else where at the moment. But I can tell you your still will be done in time."

Falling silent as the two speak, the Craftsmaster looks upon the sketch in awe. "If sucessful, I'm sure there will be a good number of folk who will sing your praises, Earsul, and those of your friend." Galharth says with a smile. "Your wine is already much desired, and moreso now with guests in the wood."

Nodding his approval as Turwaithiel makes the claim that the device will be done, the Tailor steps back. "Will you be participating in the Hunt, Earsul? With the work the Crafters are doing for the event, it'd be good to see some participate in the event."

Earsul smiles his thanks at the departing Turwaithiel, then lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the business being successfully begun. Taking a poker from its hook on the wall, he jabs absently at the embers of a quiet forge. A rueful look comes over his face as he regards the question. "I seem to recall coming off worse than the boar, the last time I took part in one of these hunts. But still, I hold no grudge against his people. I shall entertain the huntsmen if they pass the winery, but I have no greater part to play."

Nodding, the Craftsmaster can not help but smile. "Even with injuries that seem so apparent in hunts such as these, it seems to add some thrill to the appetite for the participants." Galharth says as he looks southwards. "Certainly good times are to be had, for the edhel at least, who track along the shores of the Anduin, through the woods, seeking the down a distructive beast." A smile now appears on the Tailors face. "I think I shall participate."

Unable to prevent a chuckle, Earsul rests the poker on the forge's edge and turns around to face his friend. "That does not surprise me; risk seems to be your constant companion. Though, perhaps you and she have not been together as much of late? I'm sure you cannot wait for the hunt," he adds, with a teasing smile.

Laughing out loud, Galharth crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Earsul. "Is that your way of saying I've not been injured of late? I'd say it's a good thing. But..." He says pausing to look into the fires of the forge, "Risky or not, I've been considering a short trip south along the Anduin to inspect possible crossing points for the Orc that have recently been frequenting our lands." Looking towards the Counsel, he raises his chin. "I'm not entirely sure about potential interactions with the Rohirrim, but as you said risk is my companion."

As the talk turns serious, so too does Earsul's expression. Shifting from Vintner to Counsel as deftly as he flicks over a coal in the forge, Earsul studies the flaring charcoal as he considers the Prefect's words. "Such a journey would be risky indeed, mellon. And better carried out by the Order. It is our task to interpret news, and decide how to act on it, not gather it ourselves." A pause, as the charcoal burns out, leaving the room a little darker. "Are we sure that these yrch are indeed from the east?"

Shaking his head, the Craftsmaster peers into the flames as Earsul speaks. "Nay, I've already spoken with the Lady on this matter and I'll be going alone." Falling silent for a moment, he continues to peer into the coals, watching the delicate dance of orange over the coals. "Observation is the key, for it is one with a keen eye who can best see and going alone, I'll be unseen."

Turning to look at the Counsel, Galharth nods. "Remember, I was held by these kind for several days. Their words, and the references all hint that they are spawns of the east."

Earsul nods. "Wishful thinking on my part, perhaps, that these might just be goblins of the mountains grown foolish. The Lady has known danger beyond all our ken, if she thinks this is a wise course, who am I to argue?" Taking the poker from the dying forge, Earsul plunges it into a barrel of water to cool its tip. As the hissing of steam passes, he looks up. "But go with great caution, mellon."

"Always, mellon," Galharth says with a grin. "And best of luck with your still, for if you suceed, you will certainly require a new position within the Crafters." Turning and stepping towards the door, he pauses and turns. "I'll see you later, I'm sure." He says before departing out the door, disappearing in the night.