================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Early Night < About 9:30 PM >
IC day is: Orithil <Moon-day>
IC date is: 5 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: New <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 17 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3041>
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RL time: Thu Jun 14 16:10:10 2007
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Track--Along Foothills
The stars glitter overhead in the clear Spring sky.
********************* There is a new moon above. *********************
By the the virtue of your gifted eyes you look out into the night and see: You stand just south of the foothills of the Misty Mountains. To the south and the east lie the rolling plains of Rohan. To the west lies the Gap of Rohan, along with Isengard, and the River Isen.

Contents:
Galharth
Niinaeth
Maglind
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Darkness has fallen over the lands leading through the foothills, casting shadows among the rocks and points where the land dips. An creeping mist circulates through the grasslands as it works its way over the foothills leading towards the mountains. Sounds of wandering animals echo through the night, letting imagination take hold. A swift breeze blows from the east, setting the grasses into an ageless dance under starlight.

On this eve, the clothier Galharth stands atop a rock, watching the lands to the east. While his hair and cloak wave merrily in the breeze, his expression is hardened by the recent events that have befallen the small group. "All looks clear," he announces to no one in particular.

"I doubt it is," murmurs another voice, coming from the grasses. "Step lightly. There were tracks earlier, if I am not mistaken."

Maglind tightens the elven-hair which strings his longbow.

The clothier's shoulders fall slightly. "While the herder and the horses were a welcome find along our journey, all others seemed most umpleasant. I have quickly learned that I hold no love for Troll, Uruk, and harsh speaking humans." Galharth sighs softly and hops down from his perch upon the rock, landing near the Warden. "One thing though...." he says with conviction, "I intend to master this common language so I do not appear a blithering idiot before those.... humans." With the last word spoken, the crafters face scrunches slightly in distaste.

"No love," echoes Maglind in agreement, nodding his star-silvered head up and down. "They are not to be trusted. You saw how one of them nearly speared Rhibi."

He sighs. "Though it was to his own fault that he crawled so close. I was frightened."

Galharth snorts softly, "It didn't help that he was crawling through the grasses, sneaking up on them." Shaking his head, the clothier crosses his arms over his chest. "It was bad enough that we could understand half or less of what the rohirrim were saying, and the tensions were already high due to the attack the humans encountered from the evil beasts, he's lucky we didn't all get shot."

Glancing back towards camp, he frowns. "Any word yet on how Galaslagor is doing? I've not heard a peep from him all day."

Maglind shakes his head in reply. "I let him rest. He had much of his hair torn out by that beast, Galharth. Perhaps you should make him a hood, or he will die of shame."

Frowning deeply, the clothier grows silent in thought. "Perhaps a weave to fill in the patches." he mutters softly, "It depends upon how he feels once he's fully aware of the damage done by the beast."

Glancing to the west and then to the north, Galharth frowns. "Should we patrol? to be sure the area around the camp is secure?" he asks, uncertain of the proper means protection.

Maglind fingers the carvings running down his bow. "No," he decides finally. "The camp is well hidden, but we ourselves lack stealth. It will not do to be caught a third time."

Reaching up a hand, Galharth taps his nose. "From what I've seen, these creatures they are driven by scent. While they smell horrid, we edhel have a soft almost fragrant scent which they can likely spot." Lowering his hand back into his folded arms, the clothier takes a deep breath. "There is an earthy scent that carries along the breeze here. I have often caught the scent whilst in our homeland, and knew not what it was." He says with a glimmer of a smile. "When we return, I'll think of these lands when I catch the scent again."

"You should bathe more often, then."

A wry smile, the first in weeks, touches Maglind's lips as he looks at the clothier. "I know not what it is. When we scout, we shall have to travel against the wind."

It is a soft voice from above that comes as the two speaks, one coupled with an easy sigh, "Tis it not interesting that we have at our disposal that which they do not. We can see farther, our hearing is beyond reproach, we can hide with in our cloaks. Yet...it would seem many have taken to rushing head long into battle. Why is this? Why do not use what we are blessed with. Tis not cowardly to hide I say." Niinaeth grips the bough of the tree she sits upon and flips backward, hanging from her knees, her long hair braided, yet still reaching the ground to gently sway against the forest floor, "Why is this Maglind? Why have many given that away?"

"Maglind!" Galharth gasps in defense to his bathing comment.

Opening his mouth to say more, another voice joins, causing the clothier to color slightly in the cheeks. "I made the cloaks Niinaeth, so I know well their use and advantage." He chokes on his words slightly, clearly showing a lack of excuse for all else she's said. "Sometimes hiding is attempted, but fails despite the effort. Such as it was when the Rohirrim found me hiding in the grass."

"I know not, Minister," replies the warden to the elleth who dangles from the tree. "At home we hide, but I am unfamiliar with this land. We would need to shoot the hunters before we are hunted."

A slow crimson color begins to creep to Niinaeth's cheeks as she continues to hang from the tree. Her mind soaking in each word spoken, "Perhaps we need to learn of the lands for better protection? I know not the answer, all is known to me is many times that which should be done is not. Be it stubborn pride, foolishness or stupidity I have yet to decide."

Galharth shakes his head. "Nay Maglind, I think that there are many among us who are inexperienced and who further try the patience of those who might keep us safe." Glancing towards Niinaeth, he nods softly. "Is not knowledge power and the lack of it a hinderance? A fool seeks to utter that which he knows, and the wise remain silent to listen to that which he can learn."

Pressing his lips tightly together after speaking, the crafter expressing thoughts of a courier falls silent as if embarrassed. After a moment, he adds, "I heard that somewhere, though I can not recall where."

"It might," says Maglind. "Then I shall remain silent, and I will learn. It is well to be quiet upon the patrol."

The warden stands, brushing yellow grass from his ripped and mended cloak. "I am going to stand guard now."

Niinaeth begins to smile as Maglind turns to stand guard and waits for his departure before broaching further speech, "Interesting guard. He seems to have a self doubt about him, yet he is one I personally find more than capable. And I admit I do not readily say that of many of them."

Watching as Maglind leaves, Galharth can only nod in reply to Niinaeth's words. "His confidence fails him, though he continues to show himself more than capable. Especially.... with difficult subjects of his watch." With his last few words, the clothier unfolds his arms and draws them innocently behind his back. "I know I've given him frustration on more than one occasion."

"That reminds me...." the crafter says quickly. "We've noted a lack of ability to speak westron. Is this something you can teach?"

Niinaeth quickly speaks in the tongue of Adan as she flips herself to the ground with a grin, "That I can." then approaches the tailor returning to her own language, "Is not difficult to learn in the least. Though I do remember a time when I attempted to teach a human Sindarin while teaching a guard westron. The conversation was somewhat odd. I believe there was a mention of the humans mother being a cow and passing cheese."

Watching the Minister, the corner of the Tailor's mouth rises in amusement which falls quickly into laughter. "Cheese alone is a matter that brings forth mirth so to have taught someone a statement such as that has got to be a priceless moment that you will forever enjoy to recant." Grinning warmly, he adds, "Wrong or right, I assure you, I'll learn to converse."

"Alas," he says, letting his laugher fall away. "For the moment good sense must prevail. Prehaps we sould join the warden in his duties to be sure that all is well."

Making her way in the direction Maglind went, Niinaeth nods and grins, "I will teach you both at once. Should prove if little else, entertaining." Quickly she looks around as if searching for something with a frown, "Now where is that child? I can only imagine him eavesdropping and believing he too can speak westron. Oh the trouble."