8/21/2008
================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midday < About 12:51 PM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 47 Iavas <Autumn>
Moon phase: Last 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 21 15:57:21 2008
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Eastern Shore of the Bruinen
You are standing on the shore of a mighty river, the Bruinen. The river runs almost north-south here. A few large trees line
its shores, but for the most part nothing blocks the sunlight which glitters off the wavelets. The water is shallow here,
and runs very fast. You can see the water churning around the rocks that line the river bottom. The sloping riverbanks are
muddy and slick, but not too steep, and can be traversed with care.

The road continues to the east and to the west across the river. The grassland to the north is also passable.

Contents:
Galharth
Sidhel
Aeglirhaeron

=====================================================================

Though the clouds billow thick and somber above, the river Bruinen still rushes and turns, glisteningly clear even in shadow
where the mud isn't stirred up by careless footfalls. A group of elves has set camp here, hidden from most eyes that might
try to find it by good placement and well-woven subtle cloths. Now midday, they seem in no hurry to leave the banks, instead
waiting - and watching.

Aeglirhaeron kneels just before the water, his feet firmly but lightly fixed in the mud. He holds something in his hands, a
handspan long, flat, and thin, which he washes before taking it up again and holding it to the light. Then his hands and
wrists try to bend and twist it as he puts it back underwater.

From a position leaning against a tree, a tall silver haired figure watches the Carpenter with curiousity. His head tilts
one way, and then the other, until finely the curiousity can not be ignored. Pushing off of the tree, Galharth wanders
closer to the water. "Do you craft something or have you found something?" he asks softly as he continues to move forward.

Just as Galharth speaks, the board comes loose from Aeglirhaeron's hands and goes spinning down the river. Both answering
and shouting in surprise, the elf cries, "Aiiiiiiyee!" as he lunges after it. The river bed is only deep enough for him to
flatten out in the water, his chest skimming the rocks. Only after about a minute of frantic swimming does the carpenter
come out much further down, soaked in water and shaking off mud as he waves to the master tailor.

Another is there who is curiously watching Aeglirhaeron's activities. Sidhel comes walking out of the undergrowth to watch
him climp ashore. "What is this," he asks of Galharth. "The Bruinen is not suited for swimming here, the current is too
strong and treacherous beyond the ford."

"Aeglirhaeron!" Galharth calls out as he hops and runs along the shore following the progress of the water dancing elf. "I'm
so sorry! I didn't mean...." Falling silent as Sidhel speaks, the Tailor looks from the wet ellon to the dry one. "T'was an
accident, I startled him while he worked."

Turning to focus his attention on the Carpenter, he takes a step closer, "Are you alright?"

Making his way back breathless and wild-eyed for a moment, Aeglirhaeron nods. "I'm intact." Then he touches his chest and
winces. "The rocks ..." He then notices the newcomer and slicks his wet hair back, regaining a touch of his composure even
after he bows and the heavy hair falls forward again. The slightly twisted board he holds, dark with water-logging, gets
clutched closer to his chest. "I am Aeglirhaeron. Not a fish."

Sidhel too leaps over to the unlucky Aeglirhaeron. "Come to the flet of the sentinels," he urges him. "You will find dry
clothes there and may treat your wounds if you have any." He shakes his head as he looks back and forth between the two
Galadhrim. "It looked almost if you were going to catch fish - with your bare hands though. But this is clearly not one," he
remarks, pointing at the board.

Looking up and down the Carpenter's form, Galharth nods. "Looks like you've taken a couple scratches and scraps." Furrowing
his brow, the Craftmaster's gaze falls upon the board. "What is this prize that you risked so much to save?" he asks as he
cranes his neck slightly to gain a better look.

"Only potentially a prize just now. And no fish." Aeglirhaeron lets one of his hands down from covering the board up. It is
currently unadorned, a dark but hard bit of wood that has now been twisted so that it curls up like a crude dinner plate. "I
was hoping to form it without tools first, just a little, in a general shape. That way I would lose less wood in actually
shaping it. "

The offer for clothes is gratefully received with a nod. "There are no wounds that need healing, just some soreness. How far
is the flet?" He shakes his head of the last dizziness, looking around to see how far he had traveled. Only to the other end
of the camp.

"It is but north of the path," replies Sidhel. He tilts his head as he glances at the board again. "Upon your arrival in
Imladris, our artisans would be happy to open their workshops for you and lend you their tools."

"It is something of value, or you'd not have taken the dive," Galharth says slowly as if uncertain of the explanation.
"Perhaps considering the dangers outside our home, you might consider using conventional tools until you can be certain
there are no unusual dangers lurk nearby."

Looking further up the river to their starting point, a small smile curls at the corner of his mouth. "Not far, and yet far
enough. Let us return to the camp for surely we'll not linger long on this shore before seeking shelter within the valley."

"I will go there in a little. Thank you." Aeglirhaeron bows gratefully for both the directions and the offer for tools. "I
was only able to carry my smaller tools with me. It would be nice to have access to a full workshop again. But I will follow
Galharth's advice from here on, and abstain from future ... swims." A wink, and he burrows the board into his cloak.

As he leads the way back to the camp, Sidhel muses: "Verily, this item must be dear to you. But I can understand your
feelings mellon, had I lost a book that way, I would as well have jumped behind to save it. My craft is the writing of texts
of lore."

Chuckling, the craftsmaster just shakes his head. "Let no elf stop the craft of another." he says flatly. as he turns to
Sidhel. "Lore? I think we spoke once on the Lore of ships in the Anduin, did we not?" Galharth asks as his attention is
turned from the water and the drenched ellon. "Certainly the efforts to retrieve a treasure from the depths of a river's
water is noble in its pursuit, so I ask, have you heard or found anything on the ships traffic in the Anduin over the last
ages?"

"A word-carver." Aeglirhaeron nods and smiles, such an explanation making him warm to Sidhel. "And of course, before I had
fallen in the water, I would've said, 'You could just write another book.' But it's not easy to discard such a thing when
it's close to your brow, and not just another work." Then he pauses, tapping his chin, and a wry grin appears. "I wish you'd
told me that before I'd tossed all those books into the water."

Sidhel shakes his raven head at Galharth. "Nay, I have not found any tales of such a specific loss. Many boats have sailed
upon the Big River and many may have sunk - but of your boat I know naught yet." At the carpenters comment he offers a merry
chuckle. "I suppose I should also tell you how we heat the fireplaces with used furniture in Imladris?"

"Craftmaster! We need you a moment!" A Potter calls out from the tents.

Galharth sighs softly, and nods. "Let me see to this and I'll rejoin you soon." With that he moves away and disappears into
the tent.

Aeglirhaeron chuckles as well, clapping the elf on the arm. His hand is still a little wet, but doesn't leave more than a
damp, if warm, feeling. Once Galharth has left, he nods. "Better that old weary furniture give one last burst of warmth, if
it is worn, even though I would want to restore it. The value of books differs there though..." Here he laughs, "Imagine
stoking a fire with those! But I saw someone in Bree that did just that with a small parchment. Men are strange folk."

Sidhel mien darkens somewhat at the mentioning of Bree. "The ways of the Secondborn are often strange. That man may have
wished to hide something that was written on the parchment, or simply had no need any more for it."

"Perhaps." Aeglirhaeron frowns for a minute, brooding in silence, but soon his face clears. "That is the only explanation
that makes sense to me," he admits with a sigh. "Which is perhaps why I prefer wood, and furnishings. It is easy to make
them conceal without keeping secrets, hide and keep without being furtive or untrustworthy. And when treated right, they are
difficult to get rid of." Then he huffs bitterly. "And when they are burnt, people notice."

Sidhel nods sagely. "So it is. Say, would you care for a meal or a cup of wine? You might want to take a rest after your
sudden bath."

Aeglirhaeron sniffs at the word bath. "I will need another shortly," he admits, before nodding at the suggestion. "I forgot
to break fast this morning," he admits, putting a hand to his stomach. "It happens when I get intent on something."

"Then come," says Sidhel. "The Tirith at the ford receive fresh supplies of provisions every day and there is plenty now for
all of us. And tomorrow already shall you break fast at Elrond's house." He gestures across the path that leads into the
river, to the woods north of there.

"So soon?" Aeglirhaeron raises his eyebrows and then laughs. "It has been a while, and I don't keep distances so well as
others." At that he starts out for the path, treading with frequent squishes coming from his feet.