================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Night
IC date is: 36 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 25 12:19:00 2007
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Lawn
Here the stairway through the mellyrn meets the top of a mighty hill, opening out into the middle of a great lawn filled
with blue and yellow flowers. At the center of the lawn stands a great shimmering fountain which falls into a basin of
silver. From the basin flows a white stream of water out into a small brook, which then trickles away down the hill. Further
north there stands a mallorn tree of such magnificent height that it seems to reach even to the clouds. A path paved with
white pebbles curves around the hilltop, leading west and east from the stairs.

Participants:
Galharth
Mia
Rhibi
Galadriel
=====================================================================

Sure, time is important for some things like plants (and humans). But what about for the ageless? What about those whose
lives are not controlled by the rising and setting of the sun, days and weeks, or the passage of a year?

For those lucky few, time is not a constant. They have neither too much nor too little of it, and never do they run out of
it. They live according to other restraints and rules, and measure their lives in different ways. If they bother to measure
at all.

For now, it is night, though the activity of the woods has hardly slacked any since the sun set so many hours before, and it
will not change much between now and when the sun rises. The Quendi simply go about their business, each one chosing a path
to lead them through this time, each one with a goal in mind for this time whether it is job-related, recreational in
nature, or task-oriented.

Mia walks across the lawn heading for the fountain, her steps slow and meandering, her eyes focused on nothing in the here
and now. She is, for the time being, an elf of leisure, and the peaceful expression on her face shows that she is just fine
with that.

There is a strange contraption on the lawn just beyond the fountain. A cobbling-together of wood and leather; it looms high
and angular over the smooth grass. In a bowl part-way up, something moves. An arm appears over the edge, stretching as far
as it can reach - the fingers open wide and searching. Then Rhibi's head appears and he hangs half-out of his perch - still
can't reach. A pause for thought.

A hum rises up from the stairs, announcing the arrival of someone, well before vision confirms it. Galharth's arrival is an
odd one. Absent is the net he's been carrying about for weeks on end, and now in its place is a length of strangely shaped
wood. Turning the wood over in his hands, he seems to be inspecting the wood. Nearing the fountain, the ellon raises his
head and catches sight of Mia, "Well met my...." his words pause as something further away catches his attention, "RHIBI!"
He calls out, half in worry, and half in anger.

Mia looks up, startled by the strange welcome. But only for a moment. The name registers and her eyes close, shoulders
sagging as she sighs and turns to see.... well, who ever really knows what to expect with Rhibi?

Her eyes land on the catapult and then roll back slightly, "Oh, no..." she mutters. "What next?" She is on her feet in an
instant, moving towards the contraption until she stands at the base. "If this is an attempt to leave the wood," she calls
up to him, "I don't think it will work. The trajectory is all wrong!"

Rhibi starts and looks up guiltily. Then an enormous unrepentant smile lights up his face. "Galharth!" he cries happily.
"Come and pull it, I can't reach!" His eyes fly to Mia and the smile grows larger, if possible. "No," he says reprovingly,
"I have promised." But there is a spark of calculation in his eyes as he looks along the line of the catapult. A second
later, he is back to begging however. "Oh, please pull it! I have to show Mia! Look, I have turned the cranking part and
everything, it is all ready!"

Moving only a few steps behind Mia, the clothier's reddened face reflects no small measure of anger. "Indeed, you did
promise, and I was good enough to leave the catapult here so that you could remain inside the city and keep both your
promises." Grinding his teeth tightly, the clothier holds back any further words for several long moments.

Glancing at Mia, and then to the flight ready Rhibi, Galharth shakes his head. "Mia, I leave it to you," sweeping his hand
towards the lever, he continues, "If you want to see the boy fly, then pull the lever. I won't do it."

The boy's face falls a little. "But truly, Galharth," he pleads. "I am not interfering with the testing. I waited until no
one was using it, truly, I did!" He waves an expressive arm around the lawn.

Mia clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth and shakes her head, her lips curled up in a hint of a smile, "Shame on you,
Galharth, for tempting the poor boy so." She chuckles and continues, "You can't possibly show Rhibi something so exciting
and then expect him not to try it out, himself! He seeks out adventure and mischief, if it doesn't find him first!" She
looks over the catapult quickly and querries, "How do you work this thing? If yu won't do it, then I guess the honor has to
be mine."

"Tempting?!" Galharth blurts out as he turns his gaze towards Mia. "I've given the boy a real chance to contribute....." The
remainder of of his words are lost in a muttering jumble of words as he waves the wood as a wand over the catapult. Blowing
out a breath of retrained air, he finally uses the wood to point to the lever. "There." he states firmly.

In the hubbub, the arrival of one more elf may or may not be noticed. But near the top of the stairs now stands the Lady
Galadriel. She studies the scene with a calm but curious gaze.

"I did help!" Rhibi replies, hurt and defensive. "You know I helped." Standing in the cup, arms crossed, he glares down at
Galharth. "You never said I had to stay away when we were done testing, and you KNOW I helped! I dug up those rocks and put
them in and measured and EVERYthing."

Mia places her hands firmly on the lever, "This one? You are sure?" She looks up at the boy and calls out "Are you ready?"

While waiting for Rhibi's response, she continues her conversation with Galharth, "Yes, tempting! It's as bad as dangling
food in front of a starving person, to offer up such excitement and adventure to Rhibi and expect him to wait. Seriously,
mellon, this is the same boy who led a group of children to Fangorn because he wanted to talk to an Ent! The same child who
stowed away on a trek to Amon Thranduil because, and let me see if I can remember correctly, he was bored."

At Rhibi's words, Galharth shakes his head. "Of course you helped, but I made it fully clear that it was a serious matter
that had no room for playing."

Stepping back from the catapult he sighs. "I know he was bored, which was why I asked him to help. I needed someone with
energy that would find some interest in the dull task of testing the number of cranks to get whatever distance." Looking at
Mia, he drops his head. "I ask for safety and common sense. I don't think that was too much to ask."

"And I DIDN'T!" Rhibi shouts from above. "I didn't play, you KNOW I didn't!" He ignores Mia's question entirely, as hurt
feelings vie with righteous indignation. "I worked hard! I did everything you asked me to!" Apparently, he hasn't noticed
the Lady watching them, either - but maybe it wouldn't have made any difference.

"Sensibility is too much to ask from an excitable boy," Mia laughs, her hands still on the lever. "Weren't you ever a child,
Galharth? Didn't you ever do anything that you probably shouldn't have, or have you lived a life of rules and decorum?" She
looks up and calls to the boy, "I am sure you did a fantastic job of helping, Rhibi, but you must sit down if you wish to
try this again. I know you'll be fine, you know you'll be fine, but lets humor Galharth, shall we? He worries." She pauses.

"Alot."

The Lady moves out onto the lawn and in the general direction of the bickering trio, agilely sidestepping a giant lawn dent
on the way. Still, she makes no move to interupt and if anything, seems to find the situation rather engaging. However, upon
seeing Mia's hands upon the lever, she bites her lip both in worry and to hold her tongue.

Pursing his lips tightly, the clothier gazes sternly at first Mia, and then Rhibi, "Of course I've done things, but then I
don't strive to be taken notice of within the wood." Crossing his arms and leaving the piece of wood pointing upwards, he
narrows his gaze, "Just pull the lever already and lets see how far down he's cranked the catapult for this ride."

The child's eyes widen, his mouth opening in bewilderment and astonishment as Galharth's words to Mia float upwards. "Strive
what?" he asks, uncertainly. But the longing for another ride is too strong, and he plunks himself down, curling into a
ball. "I am ready!" comes his voice.

"For some," Mia retorts with a grin, "Noteriety comes naturally, there is no striving or seeking involved." She grips firmly
and pulls, springs and pulleys tensing then letting go with a cacophony of sound. Her eyes lift skyward and she whoops! with
excitement!

Rhibi has pulled the lever as far as he was able, nearly. Not quite. And as the arm of the catapult, well, catapults
forwards, he is thrown into the air. Higher and farther, and faster too, than the time Galharth let him. His delighted
laughter trails through the air after him as he spins head over heels in a tight ball. As he starts to descend, he
straightens out, arms and hair out-flung. And he lands with an audible thump. It is a minute before he can get up - the wind
has been knocked clean out of his small body. But then he leaps to his feet and comes racing back towards them. "You do it,
Galharth!" he crows. "You try it next, it is such fun!"

Galadriel stands in disbelief, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes follow Rhibi. When he bounds back, unharmed, she
seems quite out of sorts, not sure whether to be angry at what is going on, or relieved that he has not broken his legs. At
last, she just barks "Rhibi!" in a tone of indignation - it seems strangely familiar and well-practiced.

"Not for me," Galharth says in response to Mia's words on Noteriety. Few though they are, is words are perhaps lost in the
sounds of the catapult launching. Gritting his teeth, he follows the flight of the young ellon with no small amount of
worry. Visibly, he cringes when Rhibi lands. "Oh thank goodness," he mutters as the youth rises to his feet and approaches.

"I'm interested, yes, but not enough to risk my neck. You...." Galharth says in response to Rhibi's words. Anything further
falls silent as another's voice joins the group, and the ellon clamps his mouth shut. Suddenly thankful that he had NOT
pulled the lever, the clothier's head snaps around to catch sight of the Lady Galadriel. Instinct takes over and the ellon
backs off from the catapult one step further. "We were testing..." he mutters softly.

Mia blushes slightly as she turns towards the Lady, but outspoken as ever, she composes herself and steps forward. 'We were
testing several theories, the first being whether elves bounce. They don't, but Rhibi has proven to be quite resilient." She
pauses awkwardly, her forehead furrowed as she chides herself audibly, "Not that I am trying to make light of the situation,
as I know how it must seem. We were.... having fun." She finishes lamely.

"It is well that Rhibi, or some poor soul wandering by, was not injured. Else you should see quite a display of a woman's
wrath." Galadriel's voice is cool and restrained though her eyes flash. She steps up to the catapult and studies it, "Ne'er
did I think I would find one of these /within/ the walls of my city, though I have wasted no small amount of time and
thought trying to determine how to destroy them. Catapults are a crude tool at the hands or orcs and dwarves. Fun aside, I
ask you, what need have the Eldar - experts in weaponry and strategic formations - have for such a barbaric contraption?"

"Forgive me my Lady, but it is not crude," Galharth says defensively as he steps closer to the tool in which he created,
waving the strange piece of wood to emphasis his words. "Simple yes, but crude no. It delivers a net with ease, and the
young Rhibi here has been testing it's capability, measuring distance capability." Then, suddenly realizing that he was not
in fact faded into the background, the clothier glances at those present. "Fun was only a part of it. Rhibi here has taken
great efforts in testing the devise for the exact measurement of distances achievable for a deployed net." Sweeping the
piece of wood into a wide arch he sets aside his natural shyness. "The entire concept is sophisticated and reasonable.
Experts such that we are should encourage the adaptation rather than belittle it."

Galadriel is quieted for a moment, even confused, by Galharth's moxie and retort. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet,
"Adaptation you say? You think perhaps, that we have lived age upon age with staid and stale tactics? You think that the
elven armies have arrived at /perfection/ by mere chance and that we have not tried every conceivable tactic against our
enemies? I tell you that I have marched in those formations myself and no machine" (the word is spat with distaste) "will
ever be a substitute for a well-trained soldier, whether it flings" (again, sneering) "nets, rocks, or cabbages." The Lady
pauses and steps away from this object non grata, cooling slightly. "Continue if you wish, but take the thing out of my
gates."

"Told you I did," Rhibi mutters, entirely unabashed at Galadriel's apparent displeasure. "I worked and worked and did
/every/thing you told me to." He glowers at Galhart once more, then dances closer to Galadriel, reaching out to take her
hand and giving her a winning smile. "It is just like flying, Lady," he says enthusiastically. "You should try! And it will
throw a great net out, and tangle up that terrible Olog and then we shall kill it!"

"We were being careful," Mia pipes up, "Or, at least, Galharth was. And he never would have done anything to harm Rhibi or
anyone else! And he's right, it isn't crude! I've seen enough of these types of things first-hand to know what they can do,
and there's a poetry to the one that Galharth has built! Yes! Poetry! It's... it's almost... elegant!" There are two spots
of color on Mia's cheeks, proof positive to the heightened emotional state the healer seems to be in. Well, that and the
stammering.

"I think he's done something amazing here. I only wish that I could claim to have done it, myself."

Ever lost in the background, silent and content with less than a footnote to any and all that occurs, there is something
about the Lady's words that spark the burning ember of life within the ellon. "Perfection?" he starts in a low voice that
rings nearly of a growl. "Certainly it shall leave these gates, much to the disappointment of young Rhibi here who has
promised to remain within the protected borders."

With the piece of wood found within the river, the clothier swings and begins to disassemble the catapult. "Better to remain
unchanged, better to do nothing more than we have done in the past." Clearly the ellon is taken aback by the ladies words,
or maybe he's tired, or perhaps there is something more. "Fading is perferable, either into the background in this land, or
towards another." His tone is sarcastic and drawn, and strangely as if near tears.

Pausing to listen to the Adolescent speak, he shakes his head and does not add to the youth's suggestion. To Mia, however,
he holds up a hand to stay her words. "The Lady knows best. As I've said before, she knows much and we can all learn by her
wisdom. Perhaps this all is folly for I've accomplished nothing with all my efforts.... save for the catching of fish in the
river." Pausing a moment, he peers at the wood in his hand. "Even so, the net caught upon something so perfection was far
from being achieved." With that he tosses the piece of wood aside and he kneels to disassemble the catapult.

If the Lady of the Wood is moved by Galharth's passion she shows it not. But she looks at Rhibi, clinging, and says simply,
"Elves are not for flying. Better if you want to kill ologs, to get yourself to the training field, for a volley of
well-aimed arrows will do the job neatly." She squeezes the boy's hand and tightness in her heart translates to her fingers.
It is strange to see the Lady discomfited by a situation, and it seems she wishes the others to see as little as possible of
this state. She drops the boy's hand and walks away towards the great tree.

Rhibi turns to watch Galhart, aghast, and then up at the Lady. After a stunned minute, he drops to his knees beside Galharth
first. "No!" he cries. "No, it will work! We must .. we MUST kill that terrible thing!" He is nearly in tears, and jumps up
to run after Galadriel without even waiting for Galharth's reply. "But," he says, catching up to her and half-jogging
backwards in front. "The flying was only for fun. For real, it will work, I am sure it will work. We will put this net into
the bowl where I was and cast it at the Olog and it will stick, and we can kill it! Please, Lady, we must kill it!" And
beneath the distraught child, there is a strangely adult firmness and intent. "Such a thing must /not/ be," he tells her
earnestly. "This will keep it back while others shoot. None will be injured, do you see?"

For once, Mia stays silent and watches everything: From the bravery that Galharth shows in speaking up for himself; the
cold, stoic demeanor of a usually warm Galadriel; to the fear that lies beneath Rhibi's joyful surface. She watches, and
shakes her head in disbelief, her shoulders dropping, defeated.

Drawing in upon himself, Galharth continues to disassemble the catapult, "Is nothing to go right?" he mutters, continuing
under his breath, and clearly speaking to himself. "Sucess, yet failure. Even a simple fishing attempt is tainted with my
own net being caught upon that thing at the bottom of the river."

When the front cross bar resists, the clothier raises a fist and brings it down harshly.

Pausing, he looks up towards the Lady as Rhibi gives chase, and he looks down with embarrassment. "Mia, I am lost and know
not what else to do."

The Lady makes eye contact with Rhibi, but continues walking. "You ought to take up discussions of strategory with Commander
Legarwin, Rhibi, for I have put that trust in him. For me, I will rely upon my own bow and blade, for a catapult has not a
brain to react to the spontaneity of battle." Galadriel passes the youth and heads for the stairway.

The light goes out. Rhibi drops his hand as if burned, and watches the Lady pass and disappear down the stairs. For long
minutes, he stands there watching nothing at all; then he turns and comes slowly back towards Mia and Galharth. Crouching,
he begins silently to undo the machine; yet if one were watching, his eyes are burning. And each piece of wood comes apart
to the silent moving of lips. He avoids looking at Mia entirely.

As the last connection is broken, the catapult pieces are laid in a group. "Thank you for the testing Rhibi," Galharth says
in a tone that reveals nothing of the ellons feelings. His eyes however are hollow, and it almost seems that there is a
moist sheen over the crystal blue coloring of his eyes. Without looking at the youth, the clothier winds the leather through
and around the wood pieces. "This has been interesting." He adds as he lifts the bulky mass of wood and leather.

Rhibi straightens hurriedly. "I will take it," he offers, reaching out for the pack. "Tell me and I will take it for you.
Please?" he adds, his own eyes opaque of meaning.

"Nay, by your own promise, you're not to leave the city, and by the Lady's words this is to leave." Galharth says. Glancing
towards Mia, the lady's posture of defeat sings loudly to the crafter, and he looks away as if her emotion wounds him.
Shifting the pack, he positions it upon his back, looping the leather over his shoulders. "Alas, the Lady bid you to speak
with the Commander, and this is what you should do. She is right you know. Gaining skill with your bow is important."

"Well then, it seems we've both been placed in identical positions." Galharth says softly, "And no, I have it. You can not
leave the city and I'll not be responsible for getting you into trouble."

Taking a few steps towards the stairs, the clothier turns back and offers a weak smile. "Again, thank you." With that he
turns and starts down the stairs, quickly descending out of sight.

But Rhibi is not to be denied. There is no telling what is brewing in his fertile brain this time, but he waits a minute or
two then follows Galharth quietly. One last glance at Mia - Rhibi attempts to saunter casually - then he is down the stairs
also.