================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Day
IC date is: 53 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous <HIDDEN>
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 Apr 12 13:13:00 2007
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Rose Garden
You stand in a small rose garden dazzled in white, red, and yellow. Placed in an circular pattern about the garden, a walkway made up of small, uplifted ceramic tiles form rings of walking space surrounding a large golden mallorn planted in the center. Shade from its limbs splay outward over this walkspace to provide for a pleasant atmosphere. Here and there, benches, one with a lamp rising up out of the ground next to it, are placed for guests to enjoy the shade and the scenery.

To the south, a tall hedge hides the entrance to the shaded lawn. East, among a gnarly set of old oak trees, a small path leads to the Apothecary, while to the North another path leads to the Northern Gardens. To the West, a gate leads out to the Golden Roadway. Lastly, to the side, sparkling beneath a silver arch, a set of stairs can be seen leading to a talan up above. Reaching out to the bright sun, the flowers are open in full bloom.

Contents:
Rhibi
Annaiel
Galharth
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Words echo overhead, followed by a rustling of branch and leaf.

"I am entirely well!" one young voice argues, and Rhibi swarms down the tree from the healing talan above. One of the healers follows him part-way. "Rhi...Iaurfer," he pleads. "We must be certain." But the child is not waiting, running for the dusky shadows that are gathering as the sun sets towards evening. (re)

Sharp eyes and sharper movements draw the ranger to a hiding spot in the garden as they both descend. She smiles, her brilliant spread of lips true and well meant at the sight of the running child. As he reaches the rose garden. Anna waits for him and sure enough, he heads her way. Her hand snakes out as he gets past a denser portion of the foliage and draws him in, pulling him gently, but firmly behind the concealment of where she hides. Pressing a finger to her lips as she allows him to see her, she grins. As the other elf rushes down to follow, she looks up and through the foliage to watch him past, having missed the whole ordeal.

Her face is placid, as if she were hiding from a troll or worse. Shifting on her haunches not an inch, the ranger then looks to him and grins, eyes sparkling in what light is given near the dying of the day.

Rhibi's eyes widen in protest and he yanks at the arm that is caught... but only for a second. Then a smile spreads across his face, delight sparking his eyes as he crouches in hiding. The healer, whether he knows where the child has gone or not, makes a cursory search of the grounds, then gives up, returning to the talan above. "I am!" Rhibi whispers. "I am /perfectly/ well!"

Laughing softly, she releases his arm and nods, "Of course you are...of course." She winks and gazes up to the Talan. "Healers are always stuffy about these type of things. I should know, I am one." Anna winks and ruffles his hair. "Can I see your wound? Honest I won't make you go back." She lifts her hand in honour then gazes down curiously at his leg from their hiding spot, which is not rustling and whispering bush to any that pass by.

"It is FINE!" Rhibi says rebelliously, but entirely unembarressed, he pulls his leggings down to show her his upper thigh. There is nothing but a thin red line, fast fading; to show where the leg was nearly cut in two. "See?" he says, looking up. "It is nearly gone entirely, and I don't even limp anymore! Mostly," he adds with scrupulous honesty.

A brow raises at that last portion and she hmms, "I see." She places her hands on her legs where she squats and says with such certainty, smile included, "Well I approve and see you fit to enjoy your little legs instead of resting. It is the only way you will get back your strength." Anna nods, smiling warmly at him before ruffling his hair. "I am glad to see you doing better, Rhibi, you did have me worried." She winks and shifts, going to one knee a she glances out to the main part of the garden. "Think its safe?" She suddenly says in a gentler tone, peering out as if wanting him to be her scout.

Cloth rustles as the boy pulls his pants up again. He shoots her a slightly guilty look, muttering, "I didn't mean to..." before suddenly metamorphosing into Rhibi The Eagle-Eyed Scout! Flattening to the ground and barely stirring the leaves, he peers around the visible portion of the garden, then slips noiselessly to another vantage. Wordlessly he beckons to her, pointing first to the healer's talan, then to a clump of bushes nearby. That way, he seems to say, and we will be out of sight the entire time.

Annaiel watches him go suddenly, trying to hold back a laugh as she grins. Her face glowing with something akin to motherly joy. Nodding as he motions for her, she looks out and then stays low, creeping across while extending each foot, using the length of her stride to carry her swiftly to his set of greenery. Resting there, she looks serious, brushing back the curls from her face as she leans in. "You think they saw us?"

"You are not /too/ noisy," Rhibi tells her generously. He carefully parts a few branches with his hands, looking through them, then settling back, satisfied. "We are safe," he says, seriously. "It was a terrible journey, but you have done well, and look!" A slender hand waves around their refuge. "We may rest! Those yrch that sought us are surely entirely lost by now!"

Twirling his small net, Galharth enters the Rose Garden. As the net goes round and round, the Clothier hums softly to himself. When the net wobbles slightly, he pauses his step and peers intently at the webbed fabric. As he narrows his eyes, a soft sound emits from the bush behind him, and he turns in time to hear the bush answer itself. "What?" he blurts out as he leans down towards the bush.

"Ahh, what a wonderful place to rest. You are a great scout." But as the elder firstborn leans over to peer within, Annaiel jumps and leans into Rhibi. "Oh no! An orc has found us. Whatever shall we do." She whispers. "I shall distract him, you go for his legs." She whispers and then stands. "Ha, back fowl orc!" She cries, a laugh sounding from her as she waves a pretend sword at poor Galharth. "Go Rhibi!" She exclaims as she pretends to proud and poke back the 'orc'.

The boy looks up, startled, then a wild grin flares over his face and he yanks out a mock dagger and dives at Galharth's legs. "I have him!" he cries, stabbing at the clothier's knees. "Do you drive for the heart as I hold him!" he shouts to Annaiel. Alas for concealment... the entire walking complement of the healing talan has gathered open-mouth and laughing at windows and doors to watch.

With a furrowed brow, and a deepening frown, the clothier peers intently into the bush. "Hello?" he asks in a tone laced heavily with confusion. When the bush shutters, shakes and a hand lances out, confusion turns to panic, and a dance beings before the bush. Alas, grace is expected, but not found this day as the net held in Galharth's hand catches upon the bush and throws off the poor ellons hopping. Falling head first into the rose bush, atop the concealed "things", the thorns add further insult to the laughter from the healing talan. As he falls, words such as "troublemaker" can be heard among the utterances of "ouch".

Gasping upon the sight of the poor clothier falling into the bush, Annaiel stops and declares the orc dead. "We have hurt him, come let us take him captive, tend his wounds and then ask him where the rest of his kind are." Moving forward, she extends her hand to the ellon after she clears the range of the bush. "I am sorry.." She says gently, grimacing at the sight as she anchors her legs, her grip firm once he takes it.

"Treat his wounds?" Rhibi asks, scandalized. "It is an evil yrch, I shall kill it!" And he mock-pounces, stabbing his imaginary dagger down towards Galharth's heart. Then, abruptly, he straightens, shedding Scout Rhibi and reverting to Boy Rhibi. "We must take him to the healers!" he cries, before looking up with sudden consciousness of his own precarious position, and taking to his legs. "You must take him..." floats back.

Still muttering, and clearly colored with a rare expression of anger, Galharth reaches out a hand, narrowly missing the stab to his heart. "Iaurfer!" the clothier roars, "How dare you pretend such a thing!"

Flustering about in the bush, adding delicate flowers to his disheavaled appearance, he reaches further to accept the Rangers hand, which is clearly needed to detach himself from the bush. "And you dear lady? This boy has enough energy and creativity to get himself in trouble with anyone encouraging his wild ways!"

"Forgive me." She says, though she bites her bottom lip a bit in a hope to hold back her laughter. Annaiel grips his hand tightly and pulls, pulling back and resting her weight on heels. The ranger doesn't seem to have that much trouble and actually over compensates. With a gasp as she tries to stop Rhibi at the same time, she nearly falls backwards, possibly pulling him with. Grace is by far not in this area today.

A quick jerk upwards and the clothier is free of the thorny nest, but once free the pull doesn't stop, and he takes a step forward to stop the momentum, pulling back. "Whoa, no sense in injuring yourself further to make amends for the child's doing." Turning his head quickly to seek out the aforementioned child, he hisses out a restrained breath when he finds Rhibi gone. Plucking a rose from his hair and he offers it to Annaiel. "Could you hold this please....' he mutters as he turns to the bush. With droplets of blood dripping from a maze of scratches, he frowns at the bush, "Oh no, the Gardeners are certainly not going to be happy about this."

Catching herself, she flushes a bit in embarrassment and blinks, looking upon the rose. Taking it betwixt her fingers, she twirls it. Annaiel then looks over him. "The healers either.." She states in half worry, moving closer to inspect some of his wounds while he is turned.

"You will let me see to them, yes?" She asks gently, brows furrowing as she casts a glance about for the child. "He is too quick..." She half mutters to herself.

"Quick to act, slow to think," mutters Galharth as he plucks his small net from the bush. "The elleth's adore him, and it amazes me that he gets away with as much as he does." Reaching round, the clothier plucks a thorn from his backside and holds it up for inspection, "How appropriate, this certainly describes the boy. A thorn in ....."

Shaking his head, he peers at the Ranger. "It's only a few scratches, I fear my robes have taken the worst of it," he says holding up his arms to inspect the torn fabric. "But the good news is, the net passed it's first test." he adds as he turns his gaze to the net. Gripping it with both hands he tugs it taunt as he inspect it.

"At least there is that." She manages, looking quite apologetic, though the curling of her lips in that secretive smile speaks otherwise. Clearing her throat, she motions for him to follow. "At least let me put something on them, as a peace offering." She does eye the thorns. As she turns to go, hoping her follows to find a space clear of other roses, she comments. "He is as every boy is..he will be till he grows older." She glances over her shoulder at the clothier, a warm smile and gentle sparkle to her gaze. "I am just glad the troll did not steal his spirit. And if you don't mind me saying, if he gets all the excitement at home, he won't search for it elsewhere."

"We'll not survive the next 80 years to see him reach adulthood if we're supply his brand of excitement," mutters the clothier as he turns his attention back to his torn robes. Ruffling his clothes slightly, a few leaves and small branches flutter to the ground around Galharth's feet.

As a droplet of blood runs into his left eye from a scratch above his brow, the ellon steps away from the bush and nods to the Lady. "I suppose it would be best if something was put upon the scratches, if only to stop their weeping. I would appreciate your effort, and call us even for the deed."

Finding a clear enough spot and look, a bench even! Smiling at her luck, she motions for him to sit. "Then even it will be, come rest yourself and I will see to the wounds of your flesh, the ones of your clothing are better dealt with by your hand." Annaiel is already fetching a pouch from the back of her belt, kneeling to set it upon the ground before as she pulls from it a glass vial. It is a thick mixture, but a liquid none the less from what can be seen. And something of a brownish green. "It smells better than it looks." she reassures as she stands.

Following the ranger, the clothier sits down and pops back up again, removing a thorn from his hip before sitting down once more. "Between the cuts I've made with my sword and now the tears with thorns, these robes, I think perhaps I need some clothing that isn't so flowing and so prone to damage."

Wrinking his nose at the smell, he glances from the liquid to the Ranger. "I hope so. This has been elf tested I hope?" he asks with a smile.

"Oh yes." She nods, laughing a bit, after acting quite serious. "By my troublemaker of a son, poor Barafinnel, the ellon took a lot of abuse it seems, offered mud pies that were magical and everything. Apparently he found my pouch one day and poured some on an elleth." She smirks, shaking her head as she spreads some on her fingers. Gently she lifts them to start to address the wounds on his face.

"But don't be alarmed if your hair falls out." She winks.

"What!?!" Galharth says in alarm, tensing up at the mention of hair loss, then relaxing visibly as he catches the lady's wink. "Alas, I fear I've revealed my gullibility," he admits with a laugh.

"I would like to hear about your son one day, perhaps when your not recovering from doing battle with a Troll, or cleaning up messes made by our resident trouble maker Rhibi."

Looking down into his scratched hands, he fingers his net. "And speaking of Trolls, I admit to wondering about something. How big are they, height and width, and could you describe something about their strength." Smoothing out the net upon his lap, the clothier continues. "And tell me, do you think a net might slow them down or perhaps make them easier to battle?"

Looking at his net, considering his last question, her smile fades. Annaiel continues to work. Drawing a breath, she nods. "It is not something that sits well with others..but a troll stands at least four times taller than man or elf..more so in this case. This troll is huge..and his strength fell an ancient tree in one blow to take me down with it. She grows colder with the thought. "Even a slight blow, cracked my shoulder in numerous places, the armor split as well."

Annaiel closes her eyes and then sighs. "Forgive me, often when I take the time to remember such things I am not as brave as I am when I act."

"Reflection of the past is often done with a different perspective. An exhibition of bravery now when detailing a beast such as you are describing, would cause me to fear you or perhaps suspect you to be a liar. In speaking as you do, I know it to be truth with facts that can be relied upon." Galharth says after a moments thought. Tracing the web, he falls into careful thought. "As it is, what you've describe might only be launched with something more than a single elf could handle alone." Pursing his lips he looks up into the Rangers face. "But from what you've described, they could be seen coming from quite a distance."

Shrugging his shoulders, he looks to the east. "Perhaps capture or distraction of a Troll is beyond possibility for all but stationary means, but what about the yrch who I often hear about. What of them?"

"I had not a chance to see if he had followers...but I would think that any yrch would be a daft one to dismiss him as an ally, though keeping him at a distance the same time. I am quite sure he has an army, more than likely deeper within the Mirkwood." She frowns slightly, shaking her head. "Capture, you say? I think this beast would grow stronger if he thought himself captured. I would suspect it not be the wisest course of action to take.

"Perhaps not capture, but possibly creating a stategic delay to allow those who combat the thing to attack without a full forced response while the beast dealt with the net." Galharth says slowly as if considering his own words while he speaks them. "Forgive me if I seem naive to ways of a Warrior, but consideration of things I've never experienced is difficult."

Looking up quickly, he furrows his brow. "That almost sounds like I am looking to go out and experience battle...." he says, "How stupid that must sound, especially since it is the last thing I wish to become involved in."

"Nonsense, you are someone who wishes to help, battle or not, it is the great minds and strategists that save lives. We had a similiar discussion in Imladhris, held in council with Elrond." She smiles with the thought. "There was many different ideas of how to stop the trolls from making their way further to the towns...and one idea was a net, the only problem was we could not project how long the net would hold and how much of a danger we would yet be in." Annaiel shakes her head and touches his shoulder as she lifts one of his arms to put some of the ointment upon it. "Thoughts and plans are never a bad thing, it is always good to hear."

"So a net has indeed been considered." Galharth says as a corner of his mouth rises into a smile. "As this small net was tested, thanks to Rhibi's games, so too can a larger net be constructed and tested." Watching his own arm lift, his smile grows. "A trolls strength has indeed been measured, it can fell an ancient tree, and yet that strength is not constant and the blow itself is a combination of strength, weight, and speed from start to finish."

"A blow made in the span of a foot, is remarkably less than a blow made from the distance of 10 foot." He mutters, perhaps talking to himself rather than to the Ranger. A sudden wrinkling of his nose, brings him quickly back. "That smell alone will keep everyone away from me the entire day and possibly into next week."

Watching him dip in and out of thought, she can't help but smile as it is the smell that awakens him. "Come now, I find it rather becoming, and attractive." She grins, looking down to her work with gentle sureness in her hands. Annaiel lifts his other arm then, working at his knuckles and gazing over the rest of the damage done. "I say, that rose bites worse than a troll." She sighs a moment, "But I think you are on to something, when might you have this net done?" Her own thoughts are straying. "If able to be carried by two eagles, do you think we could somehow tangle the brute in it?" Her gaze settles on his, keen cobalt grey eyes.

"Eagle?" Galharth says with wide eyes, "That's brilliant!"

Turning his gaze to the cuts upon his hands, the clothier shakes his head. "Surface scratches do not hope to compare to broken bones." Looking down to the small net upon his lap, a frown appears. "I fear the net will take some time, for first the rope needs tested...... wait..." he says with his voice fading slightly as he looks in the direction that leads to Naith in the distance. "We already make an excellent rope, perhaps that first should be tested and then modified if need be and then the net itself could be constructed. All within a month's time.

"Yes eagles." Annaiel is content to listen, finishing up his wounds and capping the phial, she puts the ointment back in her pouch and latches it closed. THe ranger looks him over once more. "If you can get this done, I will go out in search of Gwamthor and his kin. I am sure I can gain his and Iohrofel's help. If not others. They have been hunting this troll for some time."

Shifting on her feet, she gazes to the sky. "If I am to this, I must start heading north, that is the way I was told he would go." She shifts, straightening the belt about her weight. "Forgive me for the thorns." She inclines her head to him and turns to take her leave. "You see to your end Galharth, I look towards the messengers of the sky." She brushes the golden feather in her hair and exits the garden.