================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dawn < About 5:38 AM >
IC day is: Orbelain <Valar-day>
IC date is: 20 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Full <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel shines very brightly well above the horizon in
the eastern sky.
IC year is: Loa 17 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3041>
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RL time: Tue Jun 19 18:53:00 2007
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Elven Path
The path curves to the south here and also to the northwest, still tracing the
course of the main path to Caras Galadhon, that mighty arboreal city called by
the Galadhrim home. You feel at peace as you walk along the path, intertwined in
the mighty magic wrought by Galadriel and Nenya...
Contents:
Ereduinthil (temped by Galharth)
Ostiel
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Dawn tints the heavens an opaque cerulean blue, quickly lightening as the day
approaches. The night is gone, Ithil resting for a time, but Anor has not yet
completed the climb to her celestial throne, and merely stretches herself,
testing the atmosphere, awakening, sensing. Therefore, even as sharp, sparkling
rays of light spread across the horizon, it is yet relatively dark in the wood
of Lothorien, and those who are not blessed with the eyes of the Eldar may have
difficulty seeing. However, Ostiel is not one of those.
Silent, intensively riveted she lies in the brambles just off the secret elven
path, watching the main road with single-minded concentration. Her green eyes
are focused on one thing, one thing alone...a tall, golden buck, who cautiously
sniffs at the air not two yards away from the hidden elleth. Proud, regal, he
nuzzles a mallorn with soft nose and hard antler, snuffling.
"He is beautiful, isn't he?" Ereduinthil says softly as he suddenly appears upon
the elven path. taking a step to stand beside the attendant, the carpender peers
at the stag with appreciation. A smile suddenly appears upon the ellon's lips,
"Clearly we have an affiliation in the love of wood." he says with a nod towards
the creature sniffing the wood. "Strange as it might be, I've taken in the scent
of wood to determine if it was near the point to harvest."
Hidden, Ostiel's faces twists in mild disappointment, even as the silence is
broken. However, the gaze she turns toward Ereduinthil is kind, wise, quiet in
it's attentiveness. "Shhh..." She does not offer more than that, not yet, for
the buck abruptly turns to the pair, eyes wild but somehow intelligent, locking
onto them with sudden interest. The Cuigrithweg looks back to him slowly, body
twitching with some strange energy.
Leaning closer to the Attendant, Ereduinthil smiles. "He has no reason to fear
us," the Carpenter whispers softly. Turning his gaze towards the elleth, "Do we
not weild the crafts that nurture creation and caring? Certainly he must sense
this."
Taking a deep breath of the morning air, his gaze shifts towards teh stag. "That
tree has many a year ahead of it my friend." He says softly so to keep from
startling the beast.
The creature straightens, head coming up and gaze focusing directly upon the
Carpenter. Though it cannot speak, the buck snorts, giving the impression of
agreement. Then, slowly, it drags the root of it's antler's down the mallorn's
side. Ostiel grins, propping her chin in her hands.
Ereduinthil cringes at the Stags scratching. "Alas a surface so perfect is now
marred by the needs of life surrounding it's growth. By the time it falls into
my hands it will bear the groves that sing of moments such as this," he laments.
Frowning, he lets his shoulders fall slightly. "I see hours of sanding in my
future."
The moment passes quickly and the crafter returns his gaze to the lady. "Does
the wildlife ever eat your herbs? We can not stop them, but certainly we can
grieve the additional work."
Chuckling, Ostiel pushes herself slowly into a standing position. "I'm afraid
so....however, we rarely receive such large guests." She winks at the stag. It
grunts.
"Alias, there are few trees unmarred, much to my disappointment." Ereduinthil
says as he stares at the stag. "Such as now. I need a tree unmarred by animal,
or insect. I need a tree that might hold a being of wisdom and power." Turning
to look at the elleth, he smiles. "looks like I get to keep searching."
"Perhaps the strongest trees are those who, like other living beings, have had
the most trials, and stood tall," Ostiel inquires lightly but pointedly,
stroking the side of the mallorn with the back of her hand.
"This is true, but I still need a tree without blemishes." the Carpenter says
with a fallen expression. Shrugging his shoulders, he steps along the path. "If
by chance you see a tree of strength, I can usually be found in the crafters
hall. I'd like to hear from you."
"Of course," Ostiel replies warmly, "Do not despair, for there are many trees in
the wood, and I am certain there is at least one without mark, tear, or spot."
The stag is stalking past, headed for a rather tall patch of grass.
"True, but that does not lessen my search." he says witha knowing voice.
"Perfection is something that draws others but us rare to find."
Muttering soft words to himself the carpender starts along the path to the
north. "But,: he says softly if you find it, call forth and I'll return."
With that the crafter disappears into the wood, searching for his perfect tree.