================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 10:20 AM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 33 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: Last Quarter <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: Tue Apr 24 12:26:54 2007
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Long Lawn
You stand amidst a long lawn of shining grass. It ripples in the gentle river breezes like tresses of golden hair, sprinkled too with hundreds of golden elanor flowers which radiate with the light of the sun. The eastern edge of the lawn fades into a white-stone beach, lapped upon by the deep and dark waters of the broad Anduin river which flows from the north, continuing southwards forever onto the sea. Joining the Anduin directly to the south is the Celebrant river, which hurries towards you from between the groves of Mallorns to the northwest. Northwards, the lawn is bordered by a high green wall of dense forest growth. With your sharp elven eyes, you spy a small recess in the wall, perhaps a passageway which leads through it.

Participants:
Galharth
Ostiel
Maglind
Daerlach
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Autumn is in full bloom, and though Lorien's beauty does not flutter with the changing of seasons, the melancholy sky above and silver leaves attest to Arda's lingering power, even here. However, in the Long Lawn, the grass is as brillantly green as during summer, and lets off the scent of freshness, even as cool winds stream in from the Anduin, chilling and emotionless. However, the sunny elanor are not intimidated by any gusting blow...they stand fragile and proud, dripping with lingering dew.

There is one who lays with her heart to the earth, sunlight-touched hair and dress spread like an enveloping fan, mimicking the brown dirt below. Ostiel's green eyes flicker, and close as a flock of birds soar above. Excepting that, the lawn is silent and heavy with aura, as if time and atmosphere stood still, unwilling to relinquish their hold on these mysterious lands.

Slipping through a passage in the living wall that protects the land of Lothlorien from that which might be found at the joining of the rivers, the clothier moves with a bounce in his step, and a tune hummed softly from his lips. Galharth's hair rises into a dance as he turns into the cool breeze. Over his shoulder, the ellon carries a net, larger than the test net he had carried for weeks on end, and smaller than the hefty net woven for a large beast.

As he enters the lawn, he moves directly towards the river shore where he lowers the net to the ground. "This should work out perfectly," he says aloud. Remaining in a stooped position, he begins to gather fistfuls of net into his hands.

The song of silence stops abruptly. Ostiel's eyes fly open, filled to brimming with annoyance. Leaning up on her elbows, she peers over the tall grasses, directly at Galharth, saying nothing.

Slipping the loop of the net's lead rope over his wrist, Galhart stands up and peers up, and then down the shoreline. As he peers down the shoreline, he catches sight of Ostiel. Opening his mouth to call out a greeting, he clamps his mouth shut as he notes the lady's expression. "I'm sorry to disturb you!" the clothier calls out, "but still, it is a pleasure to see you!"

Even as Galharth speaks, Ostiel lets out a soft sigh, negative emotion bleeding away. "Nay," Ostiel calls back calmly, laying back down, out of view, "This is an open lawn, mellon nin, and all are welcome to partake of it's beauty. Be at peace."

A smile lights upon the clothiers face. "I am always at peace dear lady," Galharth says. Lifting the net to bring it into view, he winks, "I'll not be long, I only intend to catch a few fish." Taking a few steps back from the shore, his smile remains firmly set upon his face, "And if luck is on my side, I'll share my catch and we'll both prosper."

"Thank you," echoes from Ostiel's lowly position, as well as a soft rustling as she turns onto her back. "It is good to be at peace. That is something one should hold onto with both hands."

Stretching his arms out, he swings both arms and net back. Taking a quick step forward, he swings the net around, turning his body with the net. Taking a hop and turning a second time, he suddenly releases the net out over the water. The net snakes out, unfolding as it moves outwards until held by the line upon the clothiers outstretched wrist.

"That should do it," Galharth says with no small measure of excitement. Standing still, he watches as the net sinks downward into the water, and finally disappearing into the murky darkness below the surface. "What do you think? Was that good enough to catch a fish or two?"

"I'm afraid," Ostiel replies, brunette head once again poking up from among the rashes, "That I did not see it. However, you are an edhel who does not do things faintly, and therefore, I imagine it to be so." Perhaps she tires of yelling, perhaps not, but either way Ostiel rises and moves closer to the Clothier.

Looking over his shoulder, the clothier's smile fades, "I rank among those considered a pest," Galharth says bluntly, "It was not my intent to interrupt your rest and enjoyment of the lawn."

Turning back to the river, he begins to tug upon the anchor line. Pulling in the slender rope, one arms length, he tugs gently, only to find it caught. "Hmmms," he muses aloud. "It seems to be caught." With those words, the ellon leans back and gives a firm tug upon the line. Unfortunately, his strength is not enough and the net remains well below the surface.

"Certainly," Galharth says as he offers a portion of his anchor line. "It's probably caught upon some underwater grass," he mutters as he once more attempts to draw the net out of the water with a hearty tug. "It's a bit stubborn," he adds in complaint.

Planting both feet firmly behind her, Ostiel pulls upward sharply. From the certainty of her stance, it appears she may have performed this task before. "It would not be a suitable net if there was no strength built within."

"It seems to be holding firm," Galharth says with a grunt as he pulls along with Ostiel's effort. "I don't think it's going to give way," he mutters after a one final tug.

With his hand still on the rope, he gazes at Ostiel. "Might be easier if I just took a dive in to see what's holding it," he says with a slight hesitation in his voice.

Eyeing the river, Ostiel frowns. "If you are certain it is safe, I concur. However, those waves, however small, could prove ungainly." Indeed, the wind beginning to create strong ripples across the water's surface.

The ellon's smile returns in full force, "Whatever holds the net, will hold me as well. Given time to free my net, I'll be back to shore in no time at all."

Slipping the net from his wrist, and leaving it in the elleth's capable hands, he slips his robe and shirt from his shoulders. When his upper body is free of clothing that might catch upon the current, he plops down to sit upon the ground to remove his boots. "There, nothing to catch, and nothing to ruin," Galharth says as he rises to his feet. Holding out a hand towards Ostiel, he awaits delivery of the rope.

The rope is given. Ostiel settles down on the bank gracefully, observing Galharth's movements with a keen eye.

Bowing slightly, Galharth accepts the rope and slips it over his wrist. "Wish me luck" he says as he turns and runs for the water. After a few steps into the blue liquid, the ellon dives in, and quickly disappears below the surface of the water. All that remains is an occasional burst of bubbles mingled in with the waves.

Ostiel watches where he disappeared, expression unconcerned. The other end of the rope is held firmly in both hands, and seems unlikely to slip.

While the gentle calm continues on the surface of the river, a sudden burst of bubbles reveals that the same can not be said far below. Long moments pass, and still the ellon does not return. Is this the end to the clothier?

As if responding to the unasked question, Galharth's fair head breaks the surface. Tossing his head back, he gasps for air and begins wading towards the shore. "The net was caught," he calls out breathlessly, "I can not tell what is down there, but I managed to break where it was caught so that I could free my net."

Drawing up to the shore, he rises out of the water and turns to being reeling in the net. "It almost seems to be a ship, or perhaps a raft, but clearly it is not native to the river bed."

"How odd," Ostiel replies mildly, peering into the water while assisting Galharth in pulling up the net. "Are you certain it is wood?"

"It was hard to tell exactly what the net caught upon, the waters in their darkness do not reveal the same as a dark night." The clothier says as he works along side the Attendant in the task of pulling in the net. "There!" Galharth calls out as the net rises to the surface and draws near. Caught within the net are several flopping fish, and a queer piece of wood.

Ostiel smiles upon seeing the fish, blowing a loose strand of hair from where it dangles before her eyes. "I do believe your net worked very well indeed, mellon nin. See your profit." The wood is looked upon with a mildness that yet betrays a flicker of great curiosity.

The lawn waves blindingly, hiding the approach of one with hair as golden as the grass. He is well hidden until the grass bends in the wind and he does not.

"What's this?" he calls laughingly from afar. "No elves this time?"

Nodding his head in agreement, Galharth continues to reel in the net. "It seems we will both eat well this eve. And truthfully, there is enough for the both of us and several of our friends to eat well." While the ellon might have said more, the voice from behind draws is attention. Turning, the clothier smiles at the sight of the Warden. "It worked with Guards, so of course I thought it would serve equally well on fish." Turning to Ostiel, he winks and adds, "Though to be honest the fish gave a bit of a struggle and I had to dive in to retrieve the net."

Taking a few more pulls upon the line, the net is nearly upon the shore. "Come Maglind, help Ostiel pull in the last of the net so that I might put my boots and robe back on."

Laughter pours from Ostiel's lips, and she moves aside to make room for Maglind. "Aye, it was a very frisky fish indeed. Fortunately Galharth was stronger." Her leans muscles flex as she pulls. The last of net begins to inch up out of the river.

"He found me quite the frisky fish," murmurs Maglind as he braces himself against the dripping net; feet crunching in the white stones and shallows, he pulls.

Pulling on his shirt, Galhart joins Ostiel in laughter. "Well, perhaps the fish weren't so frisky, but there is something at the bottom of the river that gave me a struggle." Shaking his head, the ellon pulls his robe over his shoulders before dropping to sit upon the ground.

Smiling at Maglind, he chuckles again. "Indeed, you were a frisky one Maglind, though at first your movement in the brush scared the life out of me. For all I knew, you could have been some nasty beast lurking in the dark," the clothier says as he begins to pull on his boots.

"Ah, there we are," Ostiel exclaims with smile as the last bit of net flops onto the shore. "You have good timing, Maglind. My thanks." Hiking up her skirt to mid-calf, Ostiel moves closer to the piece of wood, running a slim finger over the edge.

"It is good to be wary at the marches," replies Maglind, dropping the thick ropes on the stones of the beach. "But what is that? Is that of a mallorn-tree?" he asks, peering into the middle of the net.

Pulling on his last boot, the clothier peers at Ostiel as she runs her finger over the wood. "Do you sense anything?" he asks with a hint of curiosity. "I felt something when I kicked it free, but it was a fleeting sensation." Turning his gaze towards the Warden, Galharth shakes his head. "Something sits in the murky depths of the river, and while I can not truely tell, it almost seems to be a boat of some shape or form." Rising to his feet, the ellon brushes off his pants, and offers a smile. "So, fish anyone? It seems there is more than enough to share."

"Perhaps," Ostiel notes softly, cradling a small piece of the wood in her palm, "But it is too soon to say for certain. As for fish..." She stands, smiling. "I would love some."

THe long lawn's green grass whispers in the breeze around the small company of elves.

Daerlach strides out of the arch in the green wall, shifting his cloak about him as he strides. Caras Galadhon and the stresses of the forge have been cramping him lately--he needs some fresh nature.

As he approaches the quietly conversing group of elves, he runs a hand along his hair. He give them a graceful bows.

"Greetings, comrades. Ah... And did I hear something of fish?"

"Perhaps it was something from beyond the Falls?" muses Maglind, poking at it gingerly. "But yes. Fish. Do you have need of my knife, Galharth?"

Shaking his head at the offer of a knife he digs deep inside the pockets of his robes, "Nay, I'll not be cutting this net as I'd like to save it to be used again." As the clothier withdraws several large scraps of fabric, he turns to the sound of a new voice. "Welcome, and please join us. There are fish aplenty for everyone."

Passing a cloth to each present, he sweeps his hand towards the net. "They're yours for the picking," he says with a laugh. Reaching out for the wood now held in Ostiel's hand, he frowns. "I'm sure it was a vessel, but perhaps the Lady, or some other of older days will know what lays within the water."

"Aye, perhaps." Ostiel passes the wood to Galharth. "The wood is well-worked, unless it has only been under for a short time. The structure is still firm." As for the fish...hmmm. She eyes them with sympathy and interest.

Daerlach nods, twirling the crystal sphere at his neck.

Picking his way as delicately as a deer through the net, Maglind disentangles his fish, a little silver one, and wraps it carefully in the square of cloth. "I suppose there will have to be a fire?" he asks, turning to the other -- and greeting Daerlach with a nod.

Accepting the wood, the Tailor turns it over several times in his hand, and then offers it to Daerlach for viewing. "The net caught upon that very piece of wood," Galharth says as he turns his attention to the flopping fish. "Go on Ostiel, pick a few. Surely with your access to herbs, you'll have a mouth watering dish prepared this eve."

Grinning at Maglind, he lifts a brow. "I have no means to start a fire here, but if you do, we can all have a nice Lunch and save the rest for dinner."

A smile spreads across Daerlach's face. He shrugs, as he takes a silvery, smooth fish from within the net, wrapping it in a corner of his cloak. He takes the wood in his fingers, twirling it around.

"Indeed? That is strange. Is there something at the bottom of the river/"

"Uh huh," Ostiel replies absently, though it not clear to whom she is speaking. Not partaking of the fish, she rises. "I will go in search of those herbs now. Perhaps you will reserve a few for me?"

"Of course we'll save a few for you," Galharth says quickly, "A few and then some. Perhaps yo can bring a few back to the Healing Talan for your fellow Healers." Reaching into the net, the clothier grasps a large floppy fish that seems to reflect a rainbow upon its scales. "This one is yours dear lady, so hurry back or I may well have to use this net on Maglind!" Chuckling softly towards the Warden, he adds in a lower voice, "Definately roasted!"

Turning his attention to the jewelsmith, he nods. "Something yes, but what I can't be sure to say. The lady knows all, so I'm sure she'll be able to tell me something." Glancing to those present, he adds, "If you should speak with her before I do, please mention my finding and let her know that I seek knowledge."

The Jewelsmith nods. He runs a finger along the smooth grain of the wood, studying it coriously. A glint comes into his eye.

"I am not a woodcarver, but this does look like a fine peace. And I do have some experience with shaping.. He turns his head, eyes flitting over the gathered. "Is there anyone else who would like to keep this?"

"I took the swim in the water to free the net, so I'll keep the wood." Galharth says as he reaches out a hand. "If anything, I'll follow up with a few folks who might be able to tell me something."

Looking back towards the water, he shrugs. "If anything, the larger net I have," he pauses to glance at Maglind with a smile before he continues, "is large enough to retreive what lays in the bottom of the river."

Daerlach nods. He hands the wood back to the clothier as he sits down on the lawn.

"I do like my fish roasted, yes," he says to Maglind as he waits for the elf to-possibly-start a fire.

A tendril of smoke rises from the stones.

"Perhaps you could help clean them?" grins Maglind, turning from the rough structure he has set up. "Here," and a sheathed knife flashes through the air.

Daerlach laughs, as he unwinds the corner of his cloak. He reaches out a hand and snags the knife out of the air.

"I shall," he says.

He unsheathes the knife, carving a straight incision down the firsh's middle. He isn't a sea-food expert, but there are some rudimentary skills all ellon possess.

"Don't forget to gut them first," the clothier calls out helpfully as he kneels down to pluck the remaining fish from the net. Capturing the wiggling creatures with both hands, Galharth tosses them towards Daerlach. "Well done with the fire Warden. Tell me, do you have a flint or some other tool? It seems you got that fire going rather quick."

Daerlach nods to the taylor as he continues with the incision.

He sets the fish aside when he finishes, and begins to diligently work on the remaining ones.

"Knives make a good flint, Clothier," says Maglind, prodding the little flames with a stick. "But you must be careful not to cut yourself. It is a necessity learned from travel in the rain."

Galharth chuckles softly, "I should like you to teach me that skill Warden. Since joining the Royal Court, I've come to realize that one day my poor hide will likely be stuck out in the pouring rain or falling snow, between home and some wickedly foreign land, and such a skill will be quite useful."

Reaching into the net, another silvery fish is captured and tossed to Daerlach, "With or without the herbs, we'll eat well for lunch this day!"

Daerlach has now piled a hefty five fish by his side. He neatly catches the sixth that is tossed to him, and begins to gut it.

"Indeed we shall, Master Taylor. i believe i can already feel my belly grumbling!"

"Haste makes burnt fish," recites Maglind deadpan as he thrusts a branch through one, then two, and sets it on the fire. The flames stutter.

"Two each this meal is enough, don't you think?" Galharth asks as he glances between Maglind and Daerlach. "The rest I'll wrap for us to return to the city with. Oh, and a few set aside for the lady Ostiel." Quickly wrapping up the remaining fish, the clothier sets a package by both ellon's present. "I need to stretch and dry my net," he explains as he gathers up the mentioned tool. Tucking the net over his arm, he strides towards the hedge. "The hedge is too flimsy on this side, I'm going to find a spot on the other side," the crafter calls out as he slips through the hedge.

Daerlach nods to Galharth as the ellon leaves. He picks up the now cleaned fish, handing htem over to Maglind to put them on the now steady fire.

"And now we wait," says Maglind to Daerlach, steepling his fingers to watch the smoke and aroma rise. "Do you come often to this river, mellon?"

Daerlach shakes his head.

"I do not. When I seek solitude, i usually go to the Garden of Silver Lights. But I felt I needed toget out of the city today."

Fade to Black