================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dusk < About 7:03 PM >
IC day is: Orgilion <Stars-day>
IC date is: 9 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <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: Sat Jun 16 07:21:10 2007
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Galadhrim Camp
You find yourself among a party of traveling elves. Gray tents are scattered
about, camouflaged and hidden discreetly among the grass. All is quiet, and yet
all seems busy, as the Quendi go about their daily camp routines with a
dreamlike quality. Some tend to the food, while others tend to the tents and
other gear. The camp has no quality of permanence about it, as it has noticably
moved further on its journey each day.
Contents:
Galharth
Rhibi
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From inside the camp, The sun is low in the western sky. It is clear, but with a
strange haziness to the air, a mist of sorts. Long shadows stretch across the
undulating grassy plain as the last of the light catches the highest places,
throwing them into stark relief. This small huddle of tents sits hidden along
the falling edge of one such high place; and by the most outflung of them lies a
young boy. Rhibi is looking to the north, his green eyes intent.
Wandering through the camp, the clothier pauses beside the tents. His gaze looks
northwards as if searching for something. Then, as if catching sight of
something, the corner of his mouth rises into a smile. Dropping his gaze, he
sees Rhibi, and the shadow of a smile begun, now expands into a full blown grin.
"We're almost there." he says simply. "I can see the very tip of the tower."
"Yes!" Rhibi says excitedly. He lifts a hand and points. "There. Shall we see...
Curunir?" his voice drops a little on the last word, with awe. "I have much to
ask him," he adds.
Galharth chuckles softly at the boy's question. "I'm sure you have much to say
to him Rhibi, but if you don't mind, I'd like to ask him about the ship."
Dropping to the ground, and drawing his legs under himself as he sits, the
clothier peers northward. "I've heard much about his knowledge, but little about
his patience so be wary with what you ask."
"Oh." The boy considers this. "He might get angry with me, you mean?" he asks.
"Like the Lady does sometime when I am bothersome?" Another pause for thought.
"Well," he decides at last, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. "I shall only ask
him a few things." And generously, "You may ask about the boat first."
Chuckling softly, the clothier reaches out to path the lads shoulder. "I can't
say he'll get angry, but I wouldn't want to chance it." Galharth says with a
smile. "After I get the answers I seek on the boat, and if he's in the mood,
Curunir is yours."
With that said, Galharth wanders off, visiting the members of the camp.