================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Evening
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 15 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waxing 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: Wed May 30 11:28:55 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.

Contents:
Maglind
Galaslagor
Galharth
Nariel
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Galaslagor smiles and nods affirmatively, "Aye, mellon, That would be far appreciated. In how much time shall you be able to get these elves here"

"With the speed of eagerness," says Maglind, waving a grass-blade absently. "They might bring their fishing-poles. This is not a dull place to guard."

Galaslagor laughs merrily at Maglind. "Oh they shall indeed." Turns into a kind of soft, serious face. "I do hope they place their attention in keeping Watch rather than fishing in the river" Smiles after that and looks to the south.

"Which is what I would hope!" Galharth says as he overhears the Guard's discussion while leaving the base camp tent. "Especially since I hope to start diving soon." Pausing to look up into the sky and then towards the river, he frowns slightly, "In fact I had hoped to dive today."

The corner of Maglind's mouth twitches, and he too breaks into a hearty laugh. "You shall make them. -- Oh, the diver himself! The grounds have been kept clean and safe."

Galaslagor smiles at Galharth as he walks over to him. "Creoso mellon!" Looks at Maglind, "Indeed they have." Looks at Galharth with a serious and determined face, as he salutes him. "I have been keeping Watch, and the lands are safe from unwanted eyes" His lips curve into a smile.

As the elves chatter about their subjects, Nariel, walks in the Long Lawn and smiles, unnoticed. She walks up to Galaslagor, and the other ellon. "Mae govannen, mellon" She holds hands with Galaslagor, stealthily, and not noticed by the other elves.

"Greetings, my fair Nariel" is Galaslagor's reply as surprise fills his fair features and as she grabs his hand and places it unto her own. "What brings you to my post of guard?" He inquires, seeing her stride outside Caras Galadhon.

"They have started to come already," whispers Maglind to Galharth with a sidelong glance and a smile. "Could it be to watch your diving? I didn't know."

Looking up at the stars, and then down towards the river, Galharth shakes his head. "Dives are best done during the day. Tomorrow I think." Falling silent for several long moments, he turns his head to notice an elleth on the Lawn. "Well met," he mutters softly. "I am Galharth," he says in introduction.

As Galharth's introduction is made, she replies with a bow of her head, "I am Nariel, Cuigrithweg O Lorien" She sets her head straight again, her beautiful golden ringlets shifting on her shoulders.

Bowing his head towards the lady, the Tailor offers a genuine smile. "Ah, a healer among us." he says with reverance. "I do hope this does not bode poorly for those who seek to retrieve the lost upon the bed of the river."

As the sun shins through, she laughs melodicaly at such a grim conclusion. "I have come to visit Galaslagor, who has spoken of his Guard duties on the Long Lawm." Looks at him with her deep indigo eyes and inquires raising an eyebrow, "Do you kneed a healer in the expedition?" She holds her hands in front of her and tilts her head curiously.

"A healer?" Galharth says slowly, "No offense, but I would hope that I would have no need." Lowering his head, he nudges the grass at his feet with the tip of his boot. "I do suppose it might be wise to have one or two nearby for a precaution, but I would hope for nothing more."

"You do know how to swim, yes?" asks Maglind teasingly, pursing his lips. "I shall stand at the bank, if you find something exceedingly heavy."

Nariel nods but insists, "I think it would be safest if I AM nearby...as a precaution as you said. It would be for the best" She brushes some of her ringlets out of her face and looks at Maglind. She laughs silently.

A grin forms on the Sentinel's face as he listens at Maglind's teasing. "I shall better be off to secure the other banks" He quickly runs off to the west.

Nariel nods as she herself smiles and farewells Maglind and Galharth. She trodes of to the passage.

Turning to Maglind, the clotheier nods. "Of course I know how to swim. I've been under once already." Crossing his arms over his chest, Galharth purses his lips. "I had hoped that someone would go down with me, to aid me in recovery of something that might offer a clue on what is on the river bed.

Turning towards Galaslagor, the crafter nods. "Thank you."

"If you trust me, I could," says Maglind with a moment's hesitance. "What do you think lies down there?"

"A ship," Galharth says softly, in an almost dreamlike voice. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turns towards the Warden and smiles. "If I could bring something up, I'm sure we would be well on our way to identifying the object."

"A ship," muses Maglind, gazing deeply into the depths. "Don't you mean a boat? The Anduin is wide-waisted, but a ship ..."

The warden unbuckles his belt and begins to unfasten the ties of his tunic. "We can dive by moonlight. Perhaps we could bring up a piece of it, if it is a ... ship."

The Tailor seems to consider the Warden's words carefully. "Perhaps," he mutters softly. "We're not entirely sure what lays beneath the water, but to be honest all the talk wears upon me, and I'd like to find out for sure." A deep breath is drawn, and released slowly. "Let me get some rope, a few towels, and we'll do it."

Moving towards the base camp tent, the tailor is gone only a few moments before returning to the river shore. "Let's do it."

The warden kicks off his boots, flinging his tunic into the grass soon after. He gives an uneasy glance to the green wall, then shudders. "Aye. You first."

The Tailor makes a clicking sound with his tongue against his cheek. "You should take better care of your clothing, especially in the presence of a Tailor," Galharth teases as he slips his robe from his shoulders. Carefully folding the garment, he sits it upon the shore. Pausing to look up into the sky, his eyes seem to sparkle in the moonlight. "There is certainly enough light to guide our way. I think to start, we can dive towards the front of the ship to seek out any figureheads," the clothier adds as he strips out of his shirt and boots. Sitting his clothing into a neat pile, he stoops to pick up a long length of rope. "Me first? If you insist."

Taking several steps at a run towards the river, the moment his feet hit water the crafter dives in, taking himself and his rope into the depths.

"At least it's not getting wet" --

Taking a deep breath, the warden stoops, taking up another rope. He runs, wind thrilling in hair and white pebbles scattering into the air. And he dives cleanly into the deep, rope slithering down with him.

Swiming along the surface of the water, Galharth stops a distance from the shore. "Here!" He calls out. "I'm going down, join me when you are ready!"

Gulping several breaths, the clothier dips beneath the water's surface, swimming downwards into the mirky depths. As he reaches the strange shadows upon the river floor, he pays out a length of rope as if to tie something.

"It's deep!" Maglind manages to gasp, wet hair clinging to his face, as he twitches the rope once more and follows the clothier down, trailing bubbles.

"Certainly it's deep, but I think we're quite safe." Again, the ellon takes several breaths, and in the blink of an eye, the crafter is swimming to the river floor. Shadows flicker in the moon light and the crafter reaches for the most prominent portions.

Blinking water blindly from his eyes, Maglind gasps once and kicks down after, waking bubbles which bob and splutter on the surface.

Shadows dominate the river bed, and it stands out as a world unique in itself. Watery grasses wave in the currents just as leaves and branches sway with the wind. Dark forms rise up between the grasses, some that hint as to their purpose, while others seem dark ghosts of days gone by.

One strangely shaped form draws the clothiers attention, and he swirls in the water to face the Warden that follows. With his hands, he motions towards a shape that looks much like a body. With that signal given, Galharth swims towards the identified shape, reaching it in three strong strokes.

Sea-grasses curling about his waist and arms, Maglind drags his rope further down into the depths.

Reaching the shadowy shape, Galharth grasps ahold of it and draws himself closer to inspect what it might be. Narrowing his eyes, and sweeping his hands over the surface, he releases a burst of bubbles in a startled recognition of an elleth's fair face. With the sudden loss of air, the clothier kicks his feet upwards to reach the surface for a needed breath.

The silt swirls, clouding Maglind's vision as he paddles closer with an odd glance towards the surfacing clothier.

He, too, reaches out a hand: it runs over a face of polished wood and carven marble. He, too, shows his surprise, but he takes a breath in, not out.

The silt swirls, and he stays under.

Reaching the surface, Galharth tosses his head back to draw in the cool night air. Gasping several times, he hyperventilates and dives back down to join Maglind. The shadows continue to dominate the river scape, but the clothier is able to catch sight of the Warden just as he finds recognition with the object found. With his breath held his brow furrows in concern.

Uncertainty fills the crafters eyes, and the silt being stirred along the bottom clouds any real ability to see what is occuring. With is jaw clenched tightly, the ellon swims frantically towards the Warden. Pausing a moment to loop it around the shadowy figure laying upon the riverbed, he grasps Maglind's upper arm and struggles for the surface without waiting to see his friend's condition.

Eyes shut, hair drifting, duckweed clinging greedily to his face, Maglind offers to resistance to being dragged. A few bubbles escape his lips.

Reaching the surface, Galharth gasps for air as he struggles to bring Maglind's face above water. "Maglind!" the clothier gasps urgently as he gently shakes the Warden so to bring the other ellon's head back. Ackwardly, the crafter sweeps the weeds from his friend's face. "Are you alright?"

While visible it seems he wants an answer, he doesn't wait for one as he struggles to make their way to the shore.

"Ow," whispers the other in a very waterlogged response. A stream of dusty water runs from the side of his mouth, and without warning he begins to kick: no doubt toward the shore, but one side of his arm is attached to Galharth, and he can only swim in circles. "Need ... sick...."

"Hang on! We're almost there." Mutters the clothier as he spits and sputters through the water in his effort to get Maglind to shore. "You saw it didn't you?" Galharth says with a hint of excitement. "It's elven.."

A few feet from shore, the crafter pauses his swimming and struggles to set his feet into the riverbank. "Come on, stand up, rinse your mouth if need be." Pausing to cough the water that he himself has swallowed, he draws in a few deep breaths before continuing. "Startled me...." He mutters as he refers to the object found.

Flopping onto the shore, Maglind drags himself onto one elbow and retches sickeningly.

"Couldn't see," he chuckles wetly, drawing up to his knees as he scoops water into his mouth. "Too much sand. I touched a nose." Water streaming off his back, Maglind turns to the clothier. "An elven ship ... here?"

Cringing as the Warden wretches, Galharth waits for the sickness to pass before joining the other on the shore. "T'was a carving of an elleth," he says with a distant voice as his eyes gaze out over the moonlit waters. "Her features as pure and delicate at the Lady Galadriels own, and the starlight reflected over her fair features, even at the depths in which she has been imprisioned." Turning his gaze, the clothier looks to the Warden with a firmly set jaw. "It's elven, and I think it is indeed a figure set upon the bow of a ship."

Maglind shrugs his bare shoulders, watery eyes downcast, and looks along the pebbled shore. His answer is weak and raspy with defeat: "A ship. It is impossible to retrieve it then. We no longer build them, and have nothing to lift it."

Galharth chuckles softly as he whispers, "Ye of little faith." Slapping the Warden on his back, the clothier rises to his feet, swiping the water from his bare arms as he moves towards the towels that lay nearby. "We'll figure it out, I'm sure. A net, a hoist, a little bit of elven effort, and the ship is once more on the surface." he says as he bends to grab the towels. Pausing to toss one of the fluffy white towels towards Maglind, he swings his own length of cloth over his shoulders. "We'll figure something out, and certainly we get enough visitors to Lorien that we can ask for help."

"Why did I doubt?" sighs Maglind. The warden spits out a little more water, drawing the fluffy towel close about his form. "Do you think anyone will be willing? They won't want to drown like I nearly did."

With a frown, Galharth pauses his drying. "We were startled, or at least I was. I can't say that anyone would expect to find a lady laying in the riverbed." Shrugging his shoulders, he once more begins to rub the towel over his shoulders and arms. "If it is a problem, then I'll do it myself. It'll take longer, but in all fairness I'm not exactly the most critically needed edhel in Lorien."

Looking up, the clothier smiles. "Besides, this interests me and I'm oddly drawn to the mystery that surrounds it."

"One Elf cannot lift a whole ship from the waters, strong as he may be," replies Maglind, scrubbing his head vigorously. "Maybe two. I'll have to stay on the shore next time."

He pulls upon the rope that he once held, coiling it upon the riverbank. "How large was the ship? I couldn't see."

Galharth shrugs his shoulders. "That I couldn't tell. I think it'll take several days of diving to fully grasp the full measurements of what we seek to do." Pausing to dry his hair, the clothier looks out over the water as if considering what lies beneath. "Perhaps I'll dive again tomorrow to begin taking measurements." Shrugging lightly, he bends down to pick up his discarded robes and boots. "We'll see what tomorrow brings. For now I need to get some rest, and it certainly looks as if you need that too."

"They will laugh at me," mutters Maglind, clearing his throat as he retrieves his tunic and boots. "But good even." With these in hand, he trudges through the shining grass.

Shaking his head, and lifting a hand in farewell, Galharth makes his way to the base camp tent to complete his drying and to finish getting dressed.