================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 1:36 AM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 24 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Waning Crescent <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: Mon Sep 01 21:32:13 2008
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Ford at the Carrock -- Anduin River

On the northern side of the Carrock, great stones rise above the water, allowing easy passage between the massive outcropping and the east bank. On the western side, though, the flow is deep and fast, and only the giant bears can cross it in safety. A massive cliff rises up on the west bank, nearly as tall as the Carrock itself; this close, it masks even the mighty Misty Mountains from view.

Night lays about the land though it doesn't inhibit your seeing the land and its shapes. A clear cut stone stairway leads up the side of the Carrock.

The sky is clear. The midnight autumn air is warm around you. The moon is waning crescent.

Contents:
Galharth
Ostiel
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Evening in the Anduin Valley. Ithil appears as a white crescent high above the land, his cool light stretching towards Arda in a series of illuminating rays. Glorious. They pierce through the darkness, lessening the tension that often accompanies night. Perhaps elsewhere, this would not be an extrodinary thing, moonlight touching earth. But here at the Anduin the water ripples with sparkling lights, the reeds sway hypnotically. Ostiel wades silently into the river, simultaneously blending into the night, and glowing in her own strength, a shimmering aura that is natural to the eldar. The water surges about her ankles, the crickets chirp lazily, Arda sings her lilting melody. Peace is vastly understood.

"The current is swift here," Galharth calls out as he pauses his own step along the shore of the river. A breeze blows from the north, causing the reeds to sway, more an aspect of the river than any winds what might be naturally blowing elsewhere. Reaching up a hand, the Tailor captures his swaying hair and he quickly secures it at the nap of his neck. As the Adept seems to glow, so too does the Craftmaster, and as two fireflies in the night, they seem almost a vision caused by the gentle moonlight.

Carefully watching Ostiel's movement, he frowns. "What caused you to leave the town and the Beornings? Was it that they offended you, or perhaps your aim was to lure me away into privacy?" Lifting a brow, the corner of his mouth rises with teasing.

Pause. Ostiel bends to trails her fingertips through the water, dress hem floating to the water surface upon submergence. "Why did you follow me," she returns calmly, eyes upon the little waves her presence has created. "Perhaps you wanted to be lured?" She straightens with a sigh, turning to look upon the Tailor with solemn gaze.

Reaching out a hand towards the Adept, the Tailor takes on an expression of seriousness. "Come from the water, Ostiel. The current is strong and dangerous, and I fear if you should fall, I'd have no means to save you." Extending his hand a bit further, Galharth lifts his chin, and adds in a pleading voice, "Please.... I would see no harm come to you."

"I am barely within it," Ostiel counters quietly, tilting her head back towards the glinting stars. Still, she glides towards the shore until her bare feet reach it's sandy beach, making little imprint. Smiling secretively, almost awkwardly, she takes Galharth's hand in her own and squeezes it reassuringly. "Fear not. I would not purposefully put myself in danger without good reason."

As their hands touch, the Craftmaster tightens the grip and pulls the healer closer so that the two face eachother with little distance between them. "Certainly, you would not place yourself in danger as I often do, good reason or no." Galharth says in a low almost husky voice. "You worry about me, do you not? And as often as you do, I find myself wondering why."

"Of course I worry about you," Ostiel whispers breathlessly, caught off guard by their sudden proximity, "You are my friend, Galharth, and I am of the Cuigrithweg. It is only natural that I should..." She trails off into soft, suprised laughter, though her expression retains it's solemnity. She does not elaborate on this sudden mood shift, but looks up into the Tailor's eyes with a wry smile.

Reaching up with his free hand to gently run his fingers over Ostiel's jawline, dropping his focus upon the fair curves that lead to the elleths lips, the Tailor continues to hold his teasing smile. "Is it friendship to feel the warmth of your fea as we touch? Is it also natural to grow warm at the feel of your hands upon my chest during such simple things as an examination?" Stepping a bit closer, the Craftsmaster lightly exhales as he lowers his head to peer into Ostiel's eyes. "Are you not as confused as I am? And is there anything to actually be confused about?"

"I know little of such things," Ostiel admits, reaching up and stroking Galharth's hair with all the nervousness and caution of a skittish animal, "For they have never come to me before. Therefore, I am as equally confused as yourself. And though I speak logically," now she sighs, heat flooding her cheeks, "There is truly nothing within me but emotion when I gaze upon your face."

Turning into the healers hand, his lips brush against her palm lightly. "What of this emotion is real or are these the echo's of the times you've saved my life? Has any been so near my fea, as you have?" Leaning towards the healer, the Craftmasters voice lowers, almost to the point of being strained. His whispers now become gentle carresses of breath upon Ostiel's lips. Touching in sensation, and yet not touching. "What is real between us. I can no longer tell."

The hand that only moments before carressed a jawline lowers, falling to Ostiel's waist, touching lightly. "I am finding myself confused, Ostiel. Is what I feel real, or a fiction brought forth by a closeness required to heal." A soft sigh escapes his lips, tenderly teasing the healers own lips and cheek. "My affections for you grow, and yet I hesitate...... is this what you feel, or am I confused beyond reason."

"I have touched many feas in healing." Ostiel breathes, trembling lightly beneath Galharth's touch, "Never has there ever been such effects. No," she shakes her head, "I doubt that such fears are grounded. As for what I feel..." Now she trails off into silence, thumb gently stroking Galharth's hairline. She remains thusly for a long moment, but the tension cannot go further without breaking. Therefore, it is with a faint sigh that Ostiel stands on tiptoe and brushes her open mouth over the ellon's, fingers tightening reflexively in his hair. The touch is less of a kiss and more of a caress, accompanied by a stretching of her fea. She brushes against him in spirit as well, tentative, unsure.

A deep inhaling of breath is followed by a long pause. "All that could be wanted, all that is within reach, is without resolution." Galharth says with a hint of saddness. Deeply inhaling at Ostiel's touch, he visibly shivers. Fully opening his eyes he peers into the Adepts face. "I'm on a road that leads to distruction. Would you commit yourself knowing that it is to end and find no resolution? Nay, I'd not have you do this." Turning towards Ostiel, a gentle kiss is touched upon the elleth's temple, and ever so slowly he puts distance between the two. "Whilst I find myself longing for you, I also find myself aware that my path leads to ruin. Either by Uruk or Troll, my days are numbered, for I'll never back away."

Drawing back and lowering his head, the Craftmaster looks to the soil on the ground. "I fear an exploration of what might be will in the end quicken my downfall."

Ostiel sways as Galharth moves away, somewhat stunned, emotion-darkened eyes filling with disappointment. It is with an exertion of self-control that she also steps back, turning back to the river bank with arms crossed. "Do you recall our conversation in the cave, when you said that I should question everything that could be questioned? You spoke wisdom that night." A breeze rolls through, cooling and scented faintly of flowers. "I wish greatly that you would heed your own advice, and not resign yourself so easily to fate. For now, you must understand, that your pain is not solely yours, not any longer. I would take it upon myself," she whispers, not lightly, "And all of you with it, if you would allow me. I look into my fea, and see that the strands of me are reaching towards you, stretching for what you can offer. Please tell me," Ostiel turns to face Galharth now, her eyes pleading, "That I do not long in vain. Fear not for what will happen if I do love you, but what will happen if I cannot."

"I am not the first to consider pursuing you with love lingering upon my lips, nor do I expect to be the last. Certainly we've grown close, but not so a pair that might meld as one." Galharth says firmly, in a manner that could almost be protective. Turning away, and running his fingers through his silver hair, he releases a breath of frustration. "Would you so foolishly consider the words of one such as I? Surely you've noticed the number of battles that have crossed into my path. They are drawn to me as I am to them. And now I stand wise enough to know that I will not always be fortunate enough to survive or walk way victorious."

Taking several steps from the shore, the ellon grows silent as if to consider his words. "I can offer you nothing, Ostiel, nothing but an eternal wait." Shaking his head as his hands fall to his side, he again breathes deeply. "I can not do this, Ostiel, I can not allow this to happen for I know in my heart it will bring me closer to my end."

"You are the first," Ostiel retorts, quietly but with underlying tension, "Do not speak to me of foolishness, or past lovers, for there have been none, simply because I have not desired any of them. You may think of Iaelen, and think that I might have touched him as I did you just now, and embraced him in my arms, and whispered of confusion and desire." She stalks towards him, eyes blazing. "You may think that I do not mean what I say, Galharth. But I am no fool, I walk not blindly forward. Galharth," her voice trails off into a whisper, "I have come to a revelation this night, and I am enthralled with the texture of it, but no young girl am I. So speak not to me of allowance, for I will not have it. If you would seek to push me away, do so with honest logic."

Turning with a siftness unlike any seen before, the Tailor reaches out to graps the healers upper arms. "Would you have me distracted, Ostiel? For when you are near I can not think, I can not act, and such things can only result in greater injury than I might gain with a clear head." His words, low and direct are much like a purring growl of desperation. "Do you not understand what I say? Attraction holds my attention, perhaps even lust lurks in my heart, but above all, what I feel is now a diversion that can only lead to ruin."

Releasing Ostiel, Galharth turns his back upon the lady, bowing his head into a cradle of his hands. "I would fold myself around you, love you as only lovers could, but with such thoughts come fear and a surity that such feelings would pave the path to ruin." Looking over his shoulder, the Craftmaster looks into the Adepts eyes. "You know my drive to protect our home, tell me what might my survival be with you occupying the greater portion of my thoughts.... and to be sure, you would do so if I let it happen."

"Is that what I am?" Ostiel whispers tightly, eyes wide with shock. "A diversion?" She blanches with pain, cheeks white. "You anger me, Galharth, that you would seek me out, and stir our hearts, only to say that what we desire cannot be." Still, she approaches his turned back and lays her forehead against it, breathing in slowly. "What would you have me do? What you speak of is not love. It is obsession, and that is frightening, for..." She sighs darkly, eyes filling with frustrated tears. "I could come to love you, far too easily. It is what I desire most of all, consequences of no importance. I would bear the unhappiness of the future, if that was our fate, if only to have the opportunity to try. Please," she moves around to his front, distressed in every line of her body.

"I did not seek you out! I was injured!" Galharth snaps out in defense, though he does not move from his hiding. As the Healer lays her head against his back, the Craftmaster sighs. "Lust, love, obsession, measured with a healthy dosage of fear." Turning, the ellon gently folds his arms around the healers slight form, lowering his cheek to rest atop her head. "It is the fear that holds my attention and I can not find peace in any path that includes exploring my attachment for you."

"I need you, there is no doubt, but for now let it be as a healer with me being the ever persistent patient." Curling his arms a bit tighter, he sighs and gently kisses the top of her head. "Ostiel, forgive me, we're creatures that can not make a decision on such things in such a short time. Give me a few hundred years, or possibly a thousand, and if I have survived then perhaps we can fully explore what could be between us."

"I cannot accept that, and yet," Ostiel whispers, curling her arms around Galharth's back, "I must. Forgive me if I seemed to press, for I do not desire any resolution tonight, save that which aids in my understanding. I agree, it is far too soon to tell, though that does not stop me from being anxious. But hear this, Galharth." She tilts her head up towards him, jaw set and eyes clear. "Do not doubt my constancy. I will wait for you to find your peace, however long it may take. And if I can aid in that peace, then all to the better. Indeed," she takes on a determined smile, "I will actively seek it. But tonight...tonight, will you not sit with me, and watch the night pass, and dawn bring the promise of a new day?"

A soft sigh issues forth from the Tailor's lips. "And I will actively work to help you come to your senses," Galharth whispers softly in reply, "But for now, let us enjoy the beauty of the night."