8/11/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Mid Afternoon < About 3:28 PM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 15 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Waning Gibbous <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 20 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3044>
----------------------------------------------------------------------
RL time: Mon Aug 11 00:49:43 2008
=====================================================================
Before the Prancing Pony
A homey looking, three-storey inn stands at the junction of two roads; the Great
East Road which winds west, and the Broad
Way which leads north. A wide dirt path stretches under the tall stone archway
separating the two wings which tuck into the
back of Bree-hill. A small set of steps is barely discernable towards the rear
of the building on the north side, and while
they appear to go in to the building, this does not seem as if it were a main
entrance. The usual assortment of traffic hugs
the road, with hobbits and humans being the most common types seen, though an
occasional dwarf is not too uncommon.
Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
=====================================================================
The mid afternoon sun shines brightly in the Autumn sky, and to witness this,
the Tailor Galharth stands a short distance
from the Prancing Pony. The winds blow from the east this day, and this is the
direction the tall silver haired ellon faces.
His expression is one of longing, but this might be missed, for the first thing
noted in the Tailor's face is the shadows of
fading bruises from the attack several days earlier. Still, he looks fit, and if
to prove such things he takes in a deep
breath, only to release it slowly in consideration. A sudden wrinkling of his
nose indicates that all does not smell sweet
in the town of Bree.
A stream of Westron, spoken by a tongue used to smoother speech, erupts from
below the archway. A slender man-figure
appears, leaning back to speak to someone hidden. "... Please do not feed him
those, good sir! He likes apples terribly, and
will not cease to bother you for them if you do."
Murmuring softly as he casts his cloak over his head, Maglind stops short at the
sight of the Tailor. For a moment he wavers
upon the cobblestones; then, he calls softly. "Galharth."
"Maglind," the Tailor replies in an equally soft tone that hints of amuzement.
"Horse problems at the Pony?" he asks with a
lift of his brow ans a smirk at the corner of his lips. "With all things
considered and all things that have come to pass, I
dare say it's time for us to move on.
Moving closer to the Marchwarden, the Craftmaster bends his head slightly
towards the other ellon, and quietly adds, "Too
long it has been since we've seen our home. Don't you agree?"
"Yes -- especially when it is so far away," Maglind replies faintly, gaze moving
to survey the east.
"I wanted to speak with you of something else, Craftsmaster," the marchwarden
says, looking to the ground as he fiddles with
the hem of his cloak. "The camp is leaving soon, and I -- I think I may linger
for a while in these lands, if I may." He
glances up at Galharth.
Confusion flickers in the Tailor's expression. "Linger? Certainly you can't be
enchanted by the food, wine, and
accomodations" Galharth says with a tilt of his head. "But why else would you
wish to part from our company?" He asks with a
curious note.
"Not that," replies the other with a wrinkling of his nose. "I did not say I
planned to remain in Bree."
Taking a step closer, Maglind glances about before turning to Galharth again. "I
am going to ask Grey if I may accompany
him," he says, voice sinking to a low whisper. "The woman who attacked you -- I
would like to find her. It misgives me that
she lied so skilfully to me, and led both of us astray. Do you think something
is wrong?"
"If you do not plan to remain in Bree, then what are your plans?" Galharth says,
falling silent as the Marchwarden provides
details requested. "Do I think something wrong?' the tailor asks softly. "I
think not, save that we've, nay... I've been led
to a position of trust and left to flounder." Shaking his head, he adds softly,
"Given a choice I'd like answers you seek as
well.
A sigh escapes the Craftmasters lips, as he continues to speak. "You are a
Marchwarden, so your thoughts are of your own
making, and so too are your decision. "I only ask one thing, please do not
linger too long."
"I fear the choice is yours, Maglind." Galharth says softly as he looks down and
then up again. "But I do ask that you delay
your time in Bree for only the shortest of times. We might need you at the
mountain crossing."
"She is ...." Maglind's thoughts escape through his lips, and he turns hastily
away, fingering his sleeve. "If you had not
shown such interest with her, I would pass her by as a rude Man. Still, I will
attempt to rejoin you ere Eregion."
Nodding softly, Galharth draws his hands behind his back. "I would wish to join
you, but delay can only been gained to add a
Tailor to a mixture that should only list those of skill and knowledge in the
ways of the Guards." Pausing his words, he
looks down and then back towards the Marchwarden. "I will however wish you well,
and ask that you obtain my lost dagger."
"She took your dagger?" Maglind asks, lifting his head. "Very well, then; I'll
try."
"Stars light your path, mellon," the marchwarden whispers as he begins to step
away. "And may the squirrels leave your
buttons be."
A soft chuckle replies to the Marchwarden's words as the Tailor nods his head.
"And you Marchwarden, let us see which path
trouble takes with us taking seperate paths." Galharth says with a grin. "Good
hunting." He says as he turns and departs to
attend to preparations for departure.