================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dawn < About 6:25 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 36 Echuir <Stirring>
Moon phase: Waxing 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: Wed Jun 06 11:08:40 2007
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Mar Vanwa Tyalieva
A large talan about the bole of the tree with a hardwood floor and sturdy walls (unlike most talan construction) that sport shuttered fenestrations to let air in. The branches of the mallorn support the lofty, thatched ceiling and have been hung with many lamps as well as green banners to denote the season. The tables are packed but you can spot a free table so those lights that are still burn give off a faint glow as dawn breaks over The Wood.

Contents:
Galharth
Ostiel
Rhibi
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Dawn is breaking. With a sigh, Ithil relinquishes his stubborn hold upon Arda's illumination, letting Anor take her rightful place in the heavens. She smiles slyly to herself, stretching, scattering forth brillant blue, pink, and golden rays of light across the sky. Though deprived of his full glory, Ithil is yet visible above, stoically lingering.

Across Lorien, those who choose rest the night before are now stirring to greet the day, and many have congregated in the Mar Vanwa Tyalieva, celebrating with wine, song, and laughter that echoes through Caras Galadhon, bringing smiles to many a face. As the talan is full to brimming, it is difficult to find a seat. However, the eldar have always been known for their canny ways.

"Over here, Ostiel!" Standing on tiptoe from among a rowdy crowd of edhel, the Attendant spots, at last, her friend Belation, sitting on a turquoise blanket in the far left corner of the talan. He waves frantically to her, laughing so hard that his wine nearly spills.

With his attention captured by dawns light, Galharth moves through the Mar without paying much attention to the festive atmosphere. "Pardon..." he mutters as he slips around an ellon in deep conversation with another, "Excuse me," he adds as he ducks under and outstretched arm as an elleth passes a glass of wine to her friend. As he nears the window, his focus goes out the window, but soon comes smashing back as he crashes into someone.

"I am so sorry," he mutters as he reaches out to steady the elleth he'd just plowed into. "Ostiel?" he adds, as recognition sweeps over his face. "Sorry about that."

It is indeed Ostiel, and she blinks at the Clothier for a moment before someone bashes her from behind, sending her stumbling a few feet forward. "My apologies as well, Galharth...there is little room to manuever." The seemingly disembodied voice comes again, and the Cuigrithweg frowns abruptly, looking about. "Oh dear...I've lost him again."

Glancing around, the crafter furrows his brow. "Who are you looking for? Perhaps I can help," he offers softly, "though as you've said there is little room to manuever. It seems so crowded that those we seek could be inches from us and we'd miss them." Shaking his head slightly, his eys shift towards the window and the rising colors within dawns light. "Why don't you come to the window and welcome dawn with me. It seems to be the least crowded spot here."

"My friend, Belation," Ostiel replies, scanning the crowd, "We agreed to meet here, for he also is one who loves the bringing of dawn." She looks once more, and sighs. "Alas, I cannot see him. Lead the way...perhaps the view will be clear, my friend." Grasping onto Galharth's sleeve, the elleth shakes her head, chuckling inspite of herself.

"Ah," Galharth says softly as he takes the lead towards the window. "If it's the dawn he welcomes, then we might well find him waiting with us at the window." Turning to the side, through the crowd, the clothier continues to mutter apologies as he cuts throught he crowd. As he nears the window, he turns his head so to gaze upon the Attendant. "I don't suppose you know where the Lady Galadrien is, do you?"

"Nay," Ostiel replies, squeezing between a pair of conversing ellon, "I have not seen her as of late. Ah...there he is, thank the Valar." A rather tall, rather muscled ellon with loose golden hair, clad in black leggings and cream tunic pushes his way towards them from the left, extremely difficult to miss, now that he is standing. Ostiel waves, he grins widely.

A frown appears upon the clothier's lips at Ostiel's response. "Too bad," he mutters softly, "I need to speak with her." Shrugging softly, he follows Ostiel gaze, catching sight of her friend. "Well, there you go. What was lost is now found,"

"Aye," Ostiel replies quietly, reaching out and catching Belation's bulging forearm before he is pushed past them. "There you are," he rumbles playfully, eyes sparkling with pleasure, "I thought for certain that you had disappeared." Ostiel grins, pulling a bit on Galharth's sleeve. "I would have, but fortunately I found someone to ground me."

Siltently watching the interaction between friends, the clothier smiles. "Well met Belation," he says in a voice that calls out over the noise within the Mar. Sweeping a hand towards the window, he glances between the two, "Now my friends, dawn is upon us, and I for one want to see the light filter through the canopy of our fair city." Chuckling softly, he adds in a lower voice, "For if I manage to convince the Lady into accepting my idea, then I and a few others will miss such a view for a few days to come."

"Aye," Belation replies with a smile, "I wish to bask in Anor's glory as well. But if you'll allow me..." He steps infront of Galharth and Ostiel, spreads his arms a little, and proceeds to make a temporary but effective path through the massive crowd. "You see why we are such good friends," Ostiel giggles in Galharth's ear, prodding him forward, before the gap closes again.

"Ah, like a good mule, plowing through a field," Galharth says as he joins Ostiel and together they follow Belation. Bowing his head towards the Attendant as they move, he whispers, "Is he always like this or has he been drinking?"

You paged Nob with 'It's as simple as doing another dive and finding just about anything.... perhaps a few arrowheads or somehting small that can be thought to be a lucky charm'.

Ostiel blinks with surprise, grinning. "So commanding? Nay, he is always this way. Concerning drink...well, I have never seen him be affected. I think his size has more to contribute to that than anything else. Be warned, however," the Cuigrithweg whispers, winking, "I fear he will soon ask for your name."

The clothier peers forward at Ostiel's friend, and shakes her head. "Wine is such a strange thing. Some are affected with little ingestion, while others find little other than a warm and welcome taste." Something flickers in Galharth's expression. "I wonder, are humans the same?" Peering at Ostiel, he tilts his head. "I've never asked, nor wondered. Do you know?"

Ostiel ponders on this for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. "...I believe that humans are considerably more affected than the eldar in terms of many things, and having seen my share of them, I believe that they are very rarely capable of immunity to alcohol. However," she steps daintly over a leg, "I am not an expert on edain."

There is a small disturbance in the crowd - little more than that a fish might make through water. A pair of green eyes, sparkling with mischief, peer between two legs.

"Interesting," Galharth says, as he takes in the information. "I wonder from where the difference comes. Endurance, embracing the effects, or perhaps potency of human and elven wines...." His last words are muttered more to himself, and clearly more a vocalization of his own thoughts. When next he focuses his gaze, he catches sight of someone unexpected. "Rhibi?" he says, blinking his eyes in surprise.

Galharth is, this time, not the object of Rhibi's attentions - rather a tall dark-haired elf near him. She is drinking peacefully, watching the crowd and talking to no one; and the child scoots a little closer, using all available cover. Of which, in this room, there is a lot. In one hand, he holds a small vial, and seeing his opportunity (his prey has looked the other way, her glass is held loosely at the level of the table) he darts towards her, lifting it to pour into the drink. But from nowhere, a table leg seems to curl itself into his path, and instead of adding a little something to a drink, Rhibi adds a little something to the room as he goes sprawling, the vial he holds flying across the room and blue glittering drops splashing every where.

"Hmmm?" Ostiel absently purrs, gaze lost in thought for a long moment. This proves to be unwise, for as the Rhibi's potion goes flying, drops of it arch into the air, and Ostiel, caught off guard, is spattered liberally. The droplets stand out distinctly against her delicate gown, and for a moment she stares down at her bosom, blinking slowly.

Belation makes his way back swiftly, face already darkening.

Galharth's mouth opens in surprise as he watches the youth's actions. As the liquid goes flying, the clothier's mouth drops further open and his eyes grow wide with shock and surprise. "Rhibi!" He calls out in shock as he watches the blue liquid arch splatter unsuspecting patrons of the Mar. As Ostiel looks upon the effects of the liquid on her gown, the crafter's mouth clamps tightly and he narrows his gaze upon the youth. "What! What do you think you were doing!"

The boy lies for an instant on the floor, his face a study in shock and confusion. The object of his prank-gone-awry turns and stares; and he gapes back at her. "I..." he says, scrambling to his feet then and looking around at the hundreds, nay thousands! of eyes watching him accusingly. "I.... I don't know!" he wails and turns to dive into the crowd and squirrel his way away.

"Oh no you don't," Belation growls, giving rapid chase to the little scamp, eyes narrowed.

There is a droplet of liquid that has not yet sunk into Ostiel's dress, and this she gently manuevers onto her right index finger. Sniff. Sniff. Her tongue comes out and daintly tastes the potion. "Hmmm..."

Galharth can only blink in confusion. "Rhibi's never....." he mutters in clear disbelief. Turning his gaze to Ostiel, he furrows his brow, "He never fails, it's how he gets out of things so smoothly I think." As Belation captures the youth, the clothier steps forward. "I can take him to his father." he offers with a silencing glance towards the younger ellon.

Turning back to Ostiel the furrow on his brow deepens and he frowns. "What was that liquid, Rhibi?"

A hand grabs his shoulder and the boy's escape is cut short. Dragged out of the crowd by Belation, he wriggles and squirms, but can't get free, and at last shrinks before Ostiel (whose gown he has likely ruined).

Nodding sternly, which may be rather frightful for someone half his size, Belation clings tightly to Rhibi's shoulder. "I would certainly do that, mellon. Are you alright, Ostiel?"

"Aye," Ostiel replies wryly, as the liquid forms tracks down her bodice, "I am well enough. My gown, however, might have another opinion entirely."

The frown deepens upon the clothier's lips. "I asked you Rhibi, what was the liquid?"

Folding his arms over his chest, he looks up towards Belation. "There is an agreement over Rhibi's activities, perhaps it's best to bring him to Maglind first so that he might take him to his father with an outline of todays activities." Closing his mouth, it is clear that the youth's actions have disturbed the crafter greatly.

"Just juice!" Rhibi wails. "I meant..." he cowers at Belation's sternness and darts a glance towards the woman who was the intended recipient of the juice. "I was only going to put it into Caeleria's drink!" he says. "I didn't mean... I..." An almost frightened look at Ostiel's dress and then he draws himself up to his full height - just reaching Belation's waist. "I will clean it up?" he offers.

Ostiel kneels slowly, looking upon Rhibi with a strangely tranquil blend of somberness, sympathy, and amusement, just a little bit. "Yes, it is merely juice. And yes, if you wish to wash my dress, you are most welcome to it. However, I will certainly supervise you."

Sighing softly in releif, he watches Ostiel interacts with the boy. "I suggest you do that for Ostiel, and perhaps offer to do the same for any other who might have had their clothing stained." Galharth says sternly, "For if you do not make amends, it's very likely that your father will withdraw his approval for allowing you short trips under the watchfull eyes of your friends."

"BUT!" Rhibi shrieks, twisting to stare at Galharth in outrage at the utter unfairness of this pronouncement. "But that... that had /nothing/ to do with this!" he says indignantly. "I was not doing ANYthing bad, I only ... tripped." All his anger drains away at the last word, and he slips one hand into a pocket, fingering something disconsolately. "I never trip," he adds sadly, staring at the mess he has caused.

"Shh..." Ostiel murmurs, voice smooth as a flowing brook. She lays a warm hand on the child's shoulder. "There is no need to yell. Even if it was an accident, Rhibi, you must make amends." Then she stands gracefully, looking toward the window with a soft sigh. "Alas for the sunrise..." Anor is climbing higher by the second.

"Nothing bad," Galharth mutters softly as his eyes flicker over the spatter of liquid, "just bad luck, perhaps. Very strange." Unfocused and speaking softly, the clothier is clearly deep in thought. Shaking his head and refocusing his gaze upon the boy, he frowns. "Funny though it might have seemed, I need you to behave Rhibi. I'm going to speak with the Lady about a trip to Isengard with Maglind and Niinaeth, and it is my choice to take you as well." Sweeping his hand over the spatter, he almost growls in frustration. "This is the sort of thing that will keep you home."

Rhibi's rebellious expression fades a little as Ostiel lays a hand on his shoulder and he looks up into her eyes. "I will wash it," he says, sighing a little as he surveys the vast expanse of garment. "But.... " And then his eyes go wide and he turns to stare at Galharth. "ME?" he asks, disbelievingly, and gives a little leap of sheer delight. "Oh, I will wash them ALL!"

Ostiel raises an eyebrow, looking between Galharth and Rhibi, but says naught. Instead, she moves past the Clothier to a table nearby and picks up a glass of white wine, sipping at it slowly. Around them, action begins again, eldar returning to their former play.

With a stern look upon his face, he nods sharply towards the youth. "See that you do Rhibi." Lifting his gaze, he watches Ostiel move towards the wine, and then to her friend, and he nods. "Alas, I can't stay and the time has come for me to seek out the Lady." Lifting a hand he waves and quickly departs the Mar, leaving behind the noise in search of a quiet discussion.