================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 11:59 AM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 3 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase: Full <VISIBLE>
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: Wed May 02 12:59:56 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.

Contents:
Galharth
Galadriel
Tiridor
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Anor's late morning light is warm and inviting, but a cool breeze blows from the North. The winds sweeping across the elven lands bring with it hints of a cold winter that lays just outside the protected lands of Lothlorien. Upon the breeze the scent of flowers is strong, but pleasantly so. As if by design, a gentle song sung by delicate elven voices mingles with the scent of flowers, inspiring a dream of elder days.

Moving slowly from the training field, the clothier seems oblivious to the beauty around him. Pausing beside the fountain, he turns a distracted gaze towards the water.

A warbler carries his song down from the great tree, swooping and riding the breeze, towards the fountain like a winged little scout. Being that all is clear, he begins his song anew to pipe a pleasant entrance for the Lady Galadriel, who now appears at the base of the tree, and moves toward the lawn.

The laws is not unoccupied. A bit away from the fountain, another elf is waving a sword about. As he does, he moves his feet and body gracefully, as if though some music unheard by everyone else had set his pace. Of course, living with a dance teacher has helped improve Tiridor's foot work. As he sees movement, he walks towards the fountain, as he sheaths his blade and calls a merry morning to Galharth. Just then he notices the Lady of the Forest, and stops to give her a deep bow.

Hearing the bird's song as he sweeps past the fountain, the clothier looks up to watch the graceful moves. As the creature moves beyond his line of sight, Galharth lowers his gaze and catches sight of the Lady moving across the lawn. Turning his gaze, he catches sight of Tiridor. Watching the Warden cease his practice and move across the lawn, crystal blue eyes fall once more upon the Lady.

Taking a step in the Lady's direction, the crafter pauses and looks down towards a piece of wood held firmly within his right hand. "It's not important," he mutters to himself.

The Lady Galadriel smiles at the familiar formality of Tiridor. For Galharth, she has a smile of greeting as well, though there is reservation in her eyes. "Good day, mellyn. Swords...wood?...I'm afraid I have come to the party emptyhanded."

Tiridor stiffles a chuckle as he rises up to his normal posture. "The lady is never empty-handed." he says. "Rumour has it she could easily produce any object desired just by the power of her mind." He winks to Galharth. "However, I could run and find something for you to bring."

"You bear with you your wisdom, my Lady, Tiridor need not fetch you anything further" Galharth says, though with a strange coolness to his tone. Turning the wood over in his hand, he stretches out his hand to offer it to the lady. "I found this when fishing several days past. I thought to ask you about it the other day, but the matter was set aside."

Pausing his words, he looks down towards the lawn and swallows hard before continuing his words. "It is part of something laying on the river bed. The net caught upon this /thing/ when I cast in the river whilst fishing with Ostiel and Maglind."

"Your eagerness is noted, Tiridor, but stay for now for your company pleases me more than a trinket you might fetch." Galadriel's countenance becomes a bit more serious when the proferred relic is handed her. She turns it over in her hands and runs a finger along the broken edge, "Were my opinion to be asked," she says, "I would say it is not simply driftwood." She hands the item to Tiridor for his examination as well, but looks at Galharth, "I cannot say what it may have broken from, but I feel history in it. It is quite, quite old."

Tiridor looks also at the wood, curious. "It does not appear to be from a boat." he says. "It has not been handled to be in water per se, as a piece of hull would, for example." He shrugs. "Or perhaps it's from a boat made by someone not used to making boats..."

Watching as Galadriel passes the wood to Tiridor, the clothier shrugs. "When the net caught, I dove into the river. I had expected something simple, and a large object settled in the murky darkness." Peering at Tiridor, he frowns. "I thought it might have been a boat, for what else could have found it's way to the bottom of the river." Turning his gaze to the Lady once more, he adds, "This piece broke free when I kicked it." Holding out his hand for the wood, he adds, "Both Ostiel and I felt something when it was first brought to the surface, but we both decided that someone of more experience might be able to provide more information."

The Lady retrieves the wood and turns it this way and that, studying it. "Not part of a boat, perhaps, but maybe...." She holds it longways and lifts it so that sun shines behind it, showing a profile. "Maybe, /from/ a boat. Imagine this curve here is an arm, and where it has broken would lead to a shoulder, and above that, a head." She rubs the curve delicately with her hand and is lost for a moment, separate from the lawn and her companions. "Long has it been," she says in a far off voice, "since I have looked upon the sailing boats of old, crafted by our masters, but I do remember the figureheads that broke through the water..."

Tiridor nods. "Perhaps." Tiridor says. "It is definately part of something bigger. Big enough to not have gotten there while I was alive."

Lowering his hand, the clothiers brow furrows, and his eyes grow distant as he seems to be concentrating on something not present upon the lawn. "Perhaps," he mutters softly. Regaining his focus, he tilts his head slightly to one side. "As Tiridor has indicated for himself, I know of nothing sunken where the rivers collide, south of the city, at least nothing that has occured within my lifetime." Galharth says with no small measure of curiosity.

Glancing from the Lady to Tiridor, and southwards towards the river, Galharth seems lost in thought for several long moments. "I've a larger net that might be able to haul a vessel up from its watery grave." Turning towards Tiridor, the crafter asks, "Would it be possible to muster both yourself and several other guards to lend towards salvaging this thing at the bottom of the river?"

Galadriel returns the wood to its discoverer. "Proceed with caution, brother. Neither have I heard tell of a ship, or anything, sunken in our water. If there is, I wonder at the cause, that such an event would be kept so secret, for it seems that events of lesser consequence make their way into every fireside tale of the old minstrels. Surely there must be some who have an inkling of what transpired. Whilst you gather your able-bodied volunteers, I will get myself ot the library to dust off a few volumes."

Tiridor nods eagerly. "Without any doubt." he replies. "We are here to serve, and to be honest this whole thing is making me curious." He bows towards Galadriel anew as she leaves. "Tell us of a place and a time and I shall bring a bunch of volunteers."

"Curious indeed," Galharth comments as he offers a nod of agreement to the Lady, "From a time before the Lord and Lady's visit began, or perhaps from some effort done in secret." When he refocuses his gaze, the Lady is already gone and the clothier turns towards Tiridor.

Shuffling his feet slightly, he turns his gaze north. "I've something I will need to complete over the next days, and to be honest I don't know how long I'll be gone...er....at my task." Looking back towards the Warden, he offers a smile. "I will send word when I can give you a firm time. It should be no more than two weeks."

Tiridor smiles back. "You are welcome to ask for help whenever you need it." he says. "We are ever ready to help. So take your time." He moves his hand to the hilt of the sword. "But if you would excuse me, I think I should get back to my exercises."