================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dawn
IC date is: 31 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waning Crescent <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: Mon Jun 04 22:41:00 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:
Galharth
Ostiel
Maglind
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What brightness that begins to dance upon the horizon has yet to become a brilliant glow, and merely sits, biding time 'til nights hold loosens, and day can begin to break it. For now the majority of light comes from the twinkling stars above, cool and watchful in their black velvet bed. @emit Ostiel sits by the reflective river, arms about her knees, head lowered in thought. The water washes over her white toes, splashes onto pale legs. It is silent.

Walking softly over the tender grass of the long lawn, the clothier comes to a stop a short distance from where Ostiel sits. "You look deep in thought," Galharth states softly, breaking the silence of the evening. "May I break into your thoughts to gain some company?"

It is with quiet eyes and slow smile that Ostiel greets the Clothier, chest rising and falling in a silent sigh. "Nay," she murmurs gently, patting the ground beside her, "I could never mind your companionship...it is one of my greater joys. Join me, Galharth...join me."

Lowering himself to the ground, the clothier crosses his legs and lays a hand comfortably upon each knee. "Kind words such as yours can only serve to gain you a new gown, or perhaps a cloak," he says with a soft chuckle. Pausing to look out over the water, a soft sigh is released. "It's been a busy day."

From the river, Galharth turns his gaze to the stars. "What brings you here this eve? The peace and quiet, or perhaps a peek at the figurehead?"

Sprawled deep in the soft grass, one has come to peek at the figurehead. He is towheaded, and blends nicely with the elanor and niphredil in the starlight. It is Maglind: the warden scarcely seems to leave the lawn these days.

"Hmmm..." The sound rises out of Ostiel's chest like a cat's purr, and she shakes her head. "Neither. I was simply walking the wood, and saw how brightly the stars shone upon the water. I could not resist looking closer, and soon found myself wander in thought." With a shrug, Ostiel looks to the figurehead. "She is indeed lovely...but I find living things, such as that blade of grass," she points, "Or these flowers, who seek the light so consistently, to be much more fasincating."

Disappointment flickers in Galharth's eyes. "It is but a carving," he mutters softly, "it interests some," he says softly as he catches sight of Maglind. Pausing his discussion with Ostiel, the clothier lifts a hand, "Well met, Maglind," he calls out. Turning back towards Ostiel, he smiles. "Rhibi helped bring it to the surface. Perhaps tomorrow we'll investigate the rest of the ship."

The Cuigrithweg does not miss the light that flickers in Galharth's eyes, and with a apologetic smile lays a warm hand upon his arm. "I did not mean to insinuate anything negative about it. You have made a great discovery, and it is indeed beautiful, mellon. I am sorry." She had not noticed the Sentinel before, and now also raises a hand in greeting.

One last glance towards the carven figurehead, and Maglind moves to join Ostiel and Galharth, avoiding the flowers as he steps across the lawn.

Opening his mouth to speak, the clothier falls silent as a fellow crafter appears at his side. As the crafter bends and speaks softly into Galharth's ear, a frown appears upon the clothier's lips. Nodding towards the messenger, he rises to his feet. "Forgive me, but I've a matter that I need to attend to." Bowing his head towards Ostiel, and then to Maglind, the crafter hurries towards the base camp tent.

Maglind nods to the Clothier as he hurries past. Stepping softly, he comes to the bank. Still as a statue, he stands and watches the river for a long while.

The warden chuckles. "I never knew the Anduin was so deep."

Ostiel looks after the Clothier with concern, brow furrowed. "Mae govannen, Maglind," comes out of her mouth, and she nods in slow agreement with his latter statement, shaking her head and focusing. "Aye, it is surprising is it not?"

"To think that such large a thing was hidden for so many years. I wish that I could go down again to see it, but I do not want to drown..."

Shutting his mouth, Maglind edges slightly away. "I didn't mean to break the peace. Sorry."

"Nay," Ostiel sighs and smiles, turning fully to Maglind. "You do not disturb me, Maglind. Please, stay." She looks back to the water, staring into it's depths. "I would like to see the ship myself. What a sight it must be."

"Perhaps they will bring it up soon," sighs Maglind, seating himself slowly on the sand. "It was dark and overgrown with river-weeds. I could not see anything."

Ostiel nods calmly, eyes catching upon a darting, blue fish. It swims near the bank, tail twitching energetically. "It would be stunning...but I am certain there are those who would wish to respect the wreckage, and it's history."

"Its history," echoes Maglind thoughtfully, leaning forward to dip his fingers into the waters. "It is just a ship ... we know nothing, really. Perhaps built before our Lady came. I should like to know who the crafter carved the figurehead from. It is beautiful."

"Aye," Ostiel agrees, looking over the exquisite sculpture. "The artist was talented, indeed."

Maglind flicks water at the smooth river, creating ripples. He shrugs, and turns to Ostiel. "Have you ever seen a ship, Attendant?"

"Aye," Ostiel replies with a faint smile, "When my grandparents sailed for Valinor. I was a child at the time, but we traveled to the Havens with them, to fare them well. The ship was stunning, pure white with a large sail. There were lovely silver etchings all down the sides, and a floor of golden wood that shone as brightly as Anor herself."

"Elven-built, then," smiles Maglind dreamily. "I have only ever been in a boatman's vessel. What about the Sea?" he asks, a faraway glint in his eye. "Is the Sea as great as they sing it to be?"

This makes Ostiel cough. "Aye, it is lovely. But I wish not to speak of it over much, lest the sea-longing come upon me."

Maglind hushes immediately, fingers twitching in the cold river. He is silent, but his mien is strange, yearning, almost hungry.

Ostiel watches him intently, not saying a thing, but observing with keen, wise gaze. Her head tilts. The fish swims on.

"So that is true also," whispers Maglind, lips moving inaudibly. "The call of the Sea. Perhaps the shipbuilder here had it, too."

"Perhaps," Ostiel says, a bit warily. "I've no doubt he was familiar with bodies of water. Maybe he'd also seen the sea."

"Maybe," replies Maglind quickly, blushing red in the gloom. Awkwardly he wobbles to his feet. "Err, duties to attend to. Riverbank needs watching. Good day, Ostiel."

"Aye, good day Maglind." Ostiel smiles at the Sentinel, before returning her gaze to the swirling waters. Soon she is deep in thought again, though perhaps less peaceful than before.

Once out of the attendant's sight, Maglind sprints towards the wall as fleet as a hunted animal, running far away from the waters.