8/7/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 12:10 AM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 5 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: First Quarter <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 20 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3044>
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RL time: Thu Aug 07 11:43:40 2008
=====================================================================
Large Field
This field takes up most of southeast Bree, between the back of the marketplace and the outer hedge. It is large enough to
comfortably accomodate a few hundred people, making it a perfect place for social events in the village, assuming the
weather is suitable. In the southwest corner of the field, just inside the hedge, a huge oak stands proudly, providing a
large amount of shade to a portion of the field in the daytime. Night has fallen and the field is dark. Distant lights only
serve to make the shadows deeper.

The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly. The nighttime summer air is very hot and dry around you. The moon is above
the horizon and in its first quarter phase.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Henleg
=====================================================================

Everything is dark, save the distant lights off to the west. The grass waves softly, bending in the wind. All is still,
silent.

Something comes this way: it bears no lantern or torch, yet seems to see passing well by starlight. Gloved fingers reach
from a cloak, searching the walls of the alley. As it comes to the beginning of the field, it pauses.

"Galharth, where are you?" Maglind calls, pulling off his hood to gain a wider view.

As the Marchwarden's voice rings out, a lump on the ground groans softly and shifts. A soft deep breath of air sounds out in
the night, and the lump seems to roll over. Could this be a dog? Or perhaps some overendulgent human sleeping off the
effects of a night of drinking? At this moment, it is hard to tell as it is a lump in the night, and a dirty one at that.

"Galharth, what buttons did you get this time ..." The marchwarden's breath catches at the groan, and he runs toward the
lump, a hand on dagger -- even though this is probably a no-no in the city, Maglind cannot help being paranoid.

Again the lump groans softly, but this time, a hand moves and gently pats his robe. "ug..." he mutters softly, "Buttons k,
got em" he slurrs out. Rolling again, this time to his side, the Tailor's form seems easier to make out under the night sky.
Moaning softly, he draws his hand to his head as if to cradle it protectively.

The soft sound of whistling comes through the field. A cloaked figure pushes a cart along the dirt path, moving casually
through the grass. The sound of voices makes him stop though, and he comes to a screeching halt.

"Hello?" Aaron calls out.

The guardsmen of Bree aren't /entirely/ idle... nor are they always completely incompetent. The light of a lantern bobs
along the ground at the other end of the alley, stops at the noises coming from the field (and at THIS time of night!), and
determinedly begin to come along between the buildings.

"What happened to you?" Maglind groans, dropping to his knees by the lump. "Ai, Galharth ... the woman, did you meet her
after all?"

As foreign sounds and lights invade the field, the marchwarden moves defensively, attempting to pull Galharth's head up
protectively.

Groaning sharply with movement, "She attacked..... " he mutters slowly in Sindarin. Shifting slightly in an attempt to sit
up, his eyes grow wide. "My sword.......it's gone!" he shout out in common tongue. With the movement and the shout, it seems
a wave of dizziness takes hold.

"Who's out there?" demands a stern voice as the guardsman comes into view, holding up his lantern to spread the light
farther. The swaying yellow light illuminates the end of his chin and nose, and catches his eyebrows; but does little to
show exactly who he might be. There is a shocked pause, and when the voice speaks again, it is startled - and disapproving.
"And what's all this here about swords?"

Aaron waits several moments for a response, but gets none. He moves cautiously through the tall grass, easing closer.
Finally he comes through the grass and his eyes widen to the size of plates. "Elves," he whispers, inhaling loudly.

He takes a step closer, then exhales nervously. It takes him a moment to summon the courage. "<Sindarin> Hello?" he says
softly before jumping at the voice of the Breeguard.

A glance, lit by starlight and now guard-lantern, serves enough for the other elf. "He's been robbed!" Maglind cries, moving
to cradle Galharth's head gently. "He was attacked."

As the other Man begins to speak in the elven-tongue, the marchwarden's eyes widen in surprise. "<Sindarin> You speak our
tongue? How can this be?"

The Tailor lifts both hands now to cradle his head as the noise around him increases substantially. "My sword..... " he
mutters softly, "She hit me and took my sword."

Aaron does not know whether this is good or bad, but he speaks truthfully. "<Sindarin> I...I learned from Mathia. She...she
gave me scrolls." He breaths heavily, then comes over to the injured elf. The sight makes him shiver, and momentarily
forsaking the elvish speech, he asks, "Who did this?" in a very soft voice full of fear and dread.

"Robbed?" The guard stands stock still for a second, and then continues forward, stolidly, bending over the two on the
ground. "Well," he says after a flummoxed moment. "I never did." This seems insufficient to his emotions, and so he repeats,
shaking his head and adding a few words for emphasis. "I never did in all my borned days. I don't know what things is coming
to, I don't." He shakes his head again, and then is recalled to his duty by the realization that the elf isn't lying on the
ground for a nap. "Here then," he says. "We'd best be getting him off to the healers. /I'll/ take a statement," he says
reprovingly to Aaron.

"<Sindarin> I know," Maglind murmurs, without comfort. "I will find it, mellon. She lied to me."

"My kin has healers," the Elf says urgently, putting a hand on Galharth's forehead as he looks up at the guard. "Let me take
him to them, they will know what to do...."

"Well..." the guard says dubiously. "I suppose... but I've got to have my statement, I do. So where-ever you takes him, I'm
coming along." He sets his chin mulishly, then flicks a look at the second, speaking, elf. "'Less you happens to know just
what all's going on here?"

Looing up, fear flashes in Galharth's eyes at the mention of healers. Reaching out a hand, he grabs Maglind's cloak. "Ostiel
is going to be happy, she'll ....." he says in Sindarin, not finishing his words, but instead groaning softly from the quick
effort. It is at that moment, his hand falls to his lap. A frown appears on his face. "My purse, my dagger.... gone as
well." he groans. "I had not thought Cordelia capable...."

"Statement?" asks Maglind, looking to Aaron quizzically for a translation.

"<Sindarin> Hush, mellon, she'll not hurt you more than the girl did," the Elf says to the Tailor. Turning to the
Bree-guard, he shrugs. "It seems he was robbed by the woman he now speaks of, but she seemed rather harmless ...."

"What's he saying?" the man asks suspiciously as nothing but a bunch of nonsense syllables spill from the injured elf. True,
they are nice-sounding and pretty, but still! "What woman?" he demands an instant later.

Aaron quickly translates what he can make out to the guard. He turns to the elves and closes his eyes. The word "woman" is
all he needs to hear. He turns to Galharth and asks in a quivering voice, "<Sindarin> Did Cordelia rob you?"

"Cordelia Wood," Galharth says in common tongue, "Vile lying female....that /human/." he mutters as he tries to move again
into a more upright position. Reaching up a hand, he gingerly touches the spot where she had hit him, the Craftmaster frowns
and slowly draws his hand to the back of his head. "She was not alone....." he whispers softly in Sindarin.

Blinking several times, he peers at the man and turns back to the common tongue. "We talked, and I caught her in lies. I
wanted to take her to others so to settle the matter." Pausing his brow furrows. "She hit me, and then something hit me from
behind, that's all I remember."

"Who could have been with her ...." muses Maglind, looking to the ground.

"She appeared to me at night in the Inn, and said that she did not meet you. Now I know that it, too, was a lie. Please find
her," the Elf says to the guard, eyes narrowing, "so that we might bring those lies into account."

Aaron lets out a cry when he receives an affirmative. He utters a dark word under his breath and turns to the guard. "Go
wake Mr. Nob and the mayor right away! Damn it! She's probably left town...and, we have to check on Keldean too!" the
Merchant becomes frazzled.

"This is all my fault," he says with regret. He turns slowly to the Tailor and asks, "<Sindarin> Was there a boy?"

Whatever these weird prissy foreigners were saying, the Statement is now being made, and the guard nods, listening intently.
There is a frown on his face as he commits Galharth's words to memory, and finally, he repeats them back to be sure. "This
here woman Cordelia, she lied t'you 'bout summat and then hit you on the head?" There is a bit of surprise as the other elf
interjects, and the guard says blankly, "Oh, now, I don't 'spect as how she'd have stuck around or nothing."

"Wake Mister Nob?" the guard says to Aaron, shocked. "AND the Mayor? Oh no, I couldn't be waking up the /Mayor/! Why it's...
" he glances skywards. "Middle of the night!"

"I Just saw Cordelia, until something hit me from behind." Galharth says softly. Wincing slightly, the Firstborn seems to
turn almost green in color which changes his natural soft glow. "Gonna be sick...." he groans softly as he closes his eyes.

A tall figure can be seen coming from the market, only a shadow in the dimly lit streets of Bree. Moreeover, the figure
seems clad in... something, that does not reveal who it is, at least not in the absence of good lighting. Yet it comes, with
slow strides... approaching slowly as Death, and just as silently. It stops at the sight of the gathering, and soon a voice
can be heard coming from the figure. Not a ghost-like voice, nor a evil one, but one that hasn't been heard for a while in
Bee. "A good night to all of you", says Grey, as he finally comes forth and steps into a light. His grey cloak seems
travel-worn and stained, and he seems bit leaner than the last time he was in town.

Looking up from Galharth, Maglind moves away softly. "You keep the gates closed at night, do you not?" he asks of the guard.
"She and her accomplice must still be within the town, for I saw her after sundown. Perhaps you might still find them."

The voice draws his attention, and Maglind's eyes widen again, though in a more welcome surprise this time. "Hen --" and he
stops, clearing his throat. "Grey, was it? Well met again!"

"Yes," the guard admits slowly. "Gates are shut at night... there's nothing else you can be telling me then,?" he asks the
one who was hurt, before turning and lifting his lantern again to see who has come. "And who might /you/ be?" he asks
sourly, grumbling in a softer tone, "I never did see so many people out of their proper beds and wandering about..."

"I am grey", the Ranger says, "and you have seen me, even if you don't remember me", he adds, as he comes closer. His brow
rises as he sees maglind, and then he rushes forth as he finally sees who it is that lies on the ground. "Are you... is he
fine?", he asks maglind, a look of worry on his face.

"He has taken a blow to the head," offers Maglind only, beginning to melt into shadow. "My task of finding him is done here;
if you will help me, I will bear him back to my kin."

That said, the marchwarden watches and waits in silence.

"My head hurts," Galharth mutters softly in common, clearly confused by the talking and movement. How hard was he hit in the
head? And from the number of bruises on his face, how many times was he in fact hit? Frowning deeply as his eyes seem to
look in different directions at the same moment, he mutters softly, "I need my sword to take her to my friends." With that
said, his eyes waver closed and he teeters slightly.

"Oh. It's you." The guard doesn't sound particularly happy about recognizing Grey, but neither does he continue to challenge
him. "Well, then," he says officiously. "I've got everything I need then, you can take him along to ... whoever." He turns
about, as if to begin his march back out of the field, then stops, suddenly struck with an idea. "You there. Grey. And you,
Mister Clothweaver. There's this woman to be found, and I'm con-conkerscripting the both of you! A miss Cordelia, they says,
as conked this fellow and stole off with his sword."

With his head spinning, and his coloration remarkably similar to the color of a stagnent swamp, the Tailor Galharth is led
off by his friend and fellow Firstborn. Muttering in a mix between sindarin and common, it's clear that it'll be a day or
more before the poor fellow seems less confused.

Aaron stands, nodding to the Ranger Henleg, and shaking his head. "I'll have to go get Mr. Nob and the Mayor then," he
murmurs. He turns to the Ranger and guard. "Have any of you seen Cordelia yet?

"Nay, I have not... but I'm sure that will change shortly", the ranger replies to Aaron in a somber tone. "While you go get
the Mayor and Mr. Nob, I'll help carry the wounded to his own. i shall meet you at the Pony!" Without awaiting reply, Grey
turns and goes to help the Elf carry his wounded kin to the elven camp.

"Seen her?" the guard asks, confusion plain in his voice. The lantern has been lowered a little again, and mostly lights up
his knees, leaving his face in darkness. "I haven't started looking yet..."

Alot had been on the young girl's mind lately, and with hours to go until her work began Jacquelyn needed something to do
when the insomnia struck. Rubbing at her eyes lightly she walks through the alleyway, her hair still rumpled from having
been slept on. It was a leisurely stroll, but as she passes others in the alleyway she blinks a little, suprised to see
other people out at this hour.

A bit of gray dawn appears on the horizon as Aaron spies Jacquelyn coming towards him. He stands and rushes over to her.
"Jacquelyn! Have you seen Keldean or Cordelia lately? Where are they?" his voice is desperate, his eyes flash.

Jacquelyn blinks a little at Aaron comes running towards her, looking a little startled by his desperate questions. "I.. I
don't know.. I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk, but they weren't in our room in the attic. Sorta why I went out.. I
thought maybe Keldean couldn't sleep either. What's wrong?"

The guardsman watches Aaron dubiously, shaking his head once more for good measure (crazy man, running about like that!)
then moves slowly and deliberately out of the field towards the markets, still clutching his lantern.

"An elf was attacked," Aaron explains swiftly, "He said Cordelia attacked him. Keldean might've been with her! Do you know
where they are?" he demands fiercely. He turns as the guard leaves. "Wait 'til I tell the mayor about you, slacker! Git back
here and help us find 'em!"

"/I/," says the guardsman turning about and glowering at Aaron, "am going to look, not standing about chatting!" With an
audible sniff, he turns once more and is gone.

Jacquelyn blanches at the news, a hand coming up to touch at her lips as her eyes fill with worry. "Oh I knew it.. who was
it who was attacked? Was Keldean involved for sure?" Her questions come out in a hurry, looking near as desperate now as
Aaron did. "Oh.. oh I don't know where they are. They weren't in our room and Keldean's so secretive. The only place I could
think of might be by the water, they were planning on going swimming.. but that'd be silly now if they were in trouble."

Aaron shakes his head, embarrassed at his own mistake and flustered by the whole thing. "I don't know for sure...I don't
know who the elf is. C'mon though, let's go find them!" Aaron turns without waiting for a reply and runs off out of the
field, heading for the water, rage plastered all over his face.

"Oh.. oh.. okay." She stammers as he turns and starts heading off, running a little bit to catch up with him before she can
fall in to his frantic pace. The poor girl was bone white now with worry, her brown eyes scanning across the distance for
any sign of her brother hidden away somewhere.