================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Midnight < About 1:17 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 6 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase: Waning Gibbous <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: Thu May 03 09:26:00 2007
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Silver Roadway - Northeastern Arc - Dinlom Road
Silky green tile, veined in silver, forms a great circle that cups the Dinlom Mallorn on one side. Tall grasses and wildflowers sprout up from tiny spaces, seed-heads and blooms nodding, as if the Wood grows around and through this work without interruption. Paths of soft, smooth bare tile are wove cunningly throughout.

A pool is made of dazzlingly reflective white, filled with calm and moving waters. From the center sprouts a bed of tall white flowers, who bend their heads to peer at their reflections in the water.

The sides of the courtyard bleed into the silver roadway, and the edges bear fine metal tables with chairs grouped around them. A white ladder climbs to the talan above, and a staircase heads toward the center of the Hill, leading upwards.
Contents:
Rhibi
Galharth
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The middle of the night, and winter - yet there is little sign of it here in the heart of Lothlorien. The stars shine serenely overhead, their soft intangible light sifting down through the trees - many now leafless; others shining in their evening finery. The Dinlom Talan is ablaze with light and song; yet one small child of that family kicks his heels beside the reflecting pool without and stares moodily into the shifting waters. His slim fingers feel out a pebble and he tosses it into the pool, watching the ripples spread out until they are gone.

Moving along the Silver Roadway, a cloaked figure nears the Dinlom Road. Turning his gaze back and forth as he walks, it seems almost as if he searches for something or perhaps someone. The hood of his cloak is pulled back, revealing the addition of a lovely golden scarf. Just outside the Dinlom talan, the Clothier pauses and looks to the sky to mutter something that sounds almost impatient.

Lowering his gaze, Galharth catches sight of Rhibi and his expression lightens. "Rhibi!" He calls out as he turns and starts walking towards the youth. "I need a favor," he adds as he nears.

"Oh," says Rhibi. He doesn't turn away, only drops another pebble into the water and watches the ripples fan out. Rhibi the Persecuted, we have here. Rhibi the Hard Done By and Unfairly Discriminated Against.

Rhibi the Perennially Curious. Trying to mask the faint tones of interest in his voice, he asks after a while. "What?"

Reaching inside his cloak, digging deeply inside a pouch, the Tailor withdraws an envelope. Pausing a moment to look around, he frowns and offers the package to Rhibi. "I've been trying to find Mia, to give her this message, and she's not to be found this day." Leaning closer to the youth, Galharth offers a pleading look. "I need you to take this to her today if possible." Pausing a moment he peers intently at Rhibi. "Can you do this for me?"

Malaise is shed like a cloak. "I can!" Rhibi says proudly, springing up. He weighs the package in his hand. "What is it? Is it a letter? What does it say? I will find her at once!"

The clothier's lips purse tightly, and he shakes his head. "It is of no concern, or interest. I just need it delivered this day." Galharth says as he shifts his heavy cloak over his shoulder. While still nearly hidden in the supple folds of the cloak, the star light reflects off the hilt of Galharth's sword that lies neatly at the ellons waist. "Still, I appreciate that you'll deliver the note without pause."

Clearing his throat lightly, the Tailor steps back, causing his cloak to fall forward once more. "Lovely day isn't it? It makes me think of the stories Mia has told me of your own adventures." Galharth says with an almost forced laugh. "I was wondering, when you frolicked after the troll with the Ranger Annaiel, did you just go straight north or to the east, once you left the borders to the north of the city?"

No concern! No interest! HERESY!! Rhibi lifts the small package to his ear and shakes it gently. Then, he examines the folds, the bindings, the... "I didn't go east," he replies, absently, picking at one semi-loose strand and then jerking his hand away guiltily. "Much. You should not use such light words when speaking of that *Olog," he says reproving. The way he speaks the word for troll makes it sound as if he is cursing it.

"I am sorry, Rhibi," Galharth quickly says, leaning slightly closer. "As I've said before, I've never left the wood, so it all seems so distant. You know, like the things tales are written about."

Shrugging slightly he tilts his head slightly. "So you went north then. Not very far I imagine since more than a few days would have put the whole wood on alert. Right?" the clothier adds with a note of curiosity. "How brave you were, moreso than I have ever done.... but tell me, was water available along your trip, or did you carry some with you?"

The boy is neither slow nor stupid, and a light glints in his eyes now. "There is water," he says readily. "There are many streams." The package is tossed from hand to hand. "You are going!" he bursts out, and then lowers his voice instantly, looking over his shoulder cautiously. "You must be very quiet," he instructs. "There are many of those evil yrch in the darkness. Go softly like the moonlight." He wriggles a little with impatience and frustration. "I will come and show you!" he says gleefully, then sags. "Only I cannot even leave this City."

Galharth's eyes narrow slightly, and his jaw tightens harshly. "I say not what I do, nor is it wise for anyone to make assumptions." he snaps quickly. "Leave not the city, for the Lady has not tossed you or anything that belongs to you beyond the gate. It is for me and me alone. Just.....," the clothier says quickly as he pauses to glance around, "Just deliver the envelope to Mia as I've asked. Give me at least that Rhibi, and I can ask no more."

Taking a step along the path, he pauses again. "It is a trust I place in your hands Rhibi. It is of great importance that you do not fail me." With those words, the Crafter turns quickly, setting his heavy cloak to sweep around him with the movement. And before anything further can be said, he is gone.

But such reprimands have no power of the boy now. He watches after Galharth, as if all his suspicions have been confirmed, even by the scolding; and laughs softly to himself.