================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Nighttime < About 10:05 PM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 10 Laer <Summer>
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: Wed Jul 04 08:21:47 2007
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Orthanc: Kitchen, First Level
You enter a large blue and white tiled room, awash with active cooks whose sounds rise and fall like an ocean's tide. Young
boys follow the older masters and help where it is is needed or asked for. Steaming loaves of bread and tender meats sit on
well kept counters. A light steam meanders through the room's heated air, rising from large pots flanking either side of the
ever-burning oven. A white brick stove lies opposing the oven, its fire filled maw blackened by the occasional floating
spark.

The far quarter of the room differs from the rest in that large barrels, brimming shelves of wine and rune-marked kegs take
up the most part of it.

Two wooden doors lead away from this busy room.

Contents:
Galharth
Rhibi
Kylin
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It is dark outside, or nearly. The sun has set some time ago, and only the faint glow of her remains on the horizon and in
the sky. Stars stud the vast circle overhead - brilliant in their beauty - but those inside cannot see them. Still, perhaps
Rhibi feels their presence, for he pauses a moment in his wanderings to look up.

The kitchen is dim too, lit by the dying remnants of cookfires; and most of the people who work here have retired to their
beds. Morning comes earlier when you are a baker. But the dim flickering light doesn't hinder the elven child at all as he
ghosts around heavy tables and chopping blocks. Slim fingers dart out to snatch a crumb of cake fallen unnoticed and he
tastes it gingerly. Hmmm... good! The whole morsel is popped into the boy's mouth.

Following silently, Galharth places one booted foot down upon the polished floor as he follows the youth. A smile plays upon
his lips as Rhibi enters the kitchen, and the crafter pauses just inside the door to watch. "I do not believe that Curunir
would begrudge us a piece of cake." He whispers softly into the shadowy room.

Rhibi startles, turning around and then his smile lights up his face - a flash of teeth in the dark room. "I only took this
bit," he explains serenely. "No one will miss it.... do you think we might have more?" Eagerness crowds his voice. "It was
very good. I didn't not think these ... humans could make things so well."

"Curunir is one of the wise is he not? Certainly the wise know enough to hire skilled workers," the Tailor chuckles softly.
"We've been given access to some rooms, and since the kitchen is one of them, I believe that it's reasonable to think access
was given so that we might find an evening snack." Drawing close to the table containing a beautifully prepared cake,
Galharth nods towards it. "Already it's missing a few slices, it it is meant to be eaten."

A flash of disappointment, swiftly banished. Only a few? "But..." Rhibi says, moving towards the cake, his voice still only
a murmur easily lost in the murmur of the fires. "I wish to see it all! Is it not a marvelous place? I should not like to
live here though." Nimble fingers find a knife, cut a wedge of cake. "Perhaps Curunir has put a great spell on his cakes,"
the boy says, through a mouthful.

"I've been told that the rooms that are private will be locked, all others we can access." Galharth says as he pulls a chair
to the table. Taking a seat in the chair, he watches as Rhibi enjoys his snack. "Perhaps," he chuckles softly, "Perhaps the
spell will turn you to a frog when you take the final bite."

Clasping his hands together, the crafter rests his chin upon the joined fingers. "I find Orthanc to be a cold place, elegant
in simplicity, but more designed as a fortress than a home." Shrugging his shoulders, the ellon adds, "but it seems to suit
Curunir's needs, so my thoughts are irrelevant."

The last piece of cake hovers mid-air as Rhibi eyes it uncertainly. "It won't either!" he says stoutly. "Will it?"
Distracted by the crafter's thoughts, he looks around. "Yes... it is all this stone. It is nice, but I would miss the trees.
You can't even hear the wind in here, or see the stars!" He sounds scandalized, and in his abstraction, eats the last bite
of his piece of cake, forgetful of the 'curse' and licks his fingers. "You should have some," he tells Galharth. "It really
is very good."

"Nay, it is not sweets that I crave," Galharth says with a soft release of breath. "Knowledge held within these walls calls
to me and it is only that which will sate my hunger." Dropping his hands to rest upon the table top, he offers the youth a
smile. "At least I've managed to gain some knowledge of the common tongue. There is plenty of opportunity to speak it and
expand my vocabulary here."

Looking back towards the doorway, the movement of a servant draws the crafters attention. "Did you know that several here
are of Dunland decent? I wonder if we could take a ride to see some of their country whilst we wait for Curunir's response."

"We could go and find it," Rhibi offers excitedly. "This knowledge that you wish. It is written in books, is it not?" A
brief pause for breath and he plows on. "I can say, 'Hello!'" he tells Galharth proudly. The single westron word amid the
liquid musical flow of elven sounds harsh and out of place. "Where is Dunland?"

"To the west," Galharth responds. "I'm sure we could borrow a few horses and take a short ride to see the lands, and perhaps
meet a few of their folk." Pausing a moment, the Tailor raises his head in thought. "Perhaps Kylin would be willing to show
us around."

"I like horses!" Rhibi exclaims, forgetting the cake. "Let us go! We shall ride under the stars across all that long grass!"
In his enthusiasm, he forgets to keep his voice down and a disgrunted mutter sounds from one corner. "Oops," the boy
whispers, looking around. "I forgot. They /sleep/ here."

Chuckling softly, Galharth nods. "Let me speak with Kylin when he wakes, and perhaps we can be off to to set our gaze upon
the lands of the Dunlending before the sun sets tomorrow." Lifting one hand, the Tailor cups his hand under his chin. "It
will certainly be better than my hovering around waiting for information to come our way." He grins at the youth. "I must
test their patience with my eagerness."

Rhibi wriggles a little with excitement, his eyes glowing in the dimness. "I have seen so much!" he says blissfully. "What
are these Dunlendings like? Do they ride horses also? Oh, let us go at once!"

Sitting back, the Tailor raises his hands in defense. "Hold on there..." he begs softly, "All I know is that the humans
around here with dark hair are of Dunlending decent. I know nothing of their culture, and little more about their history."
He shrugs his shoulders and lowers his hands to rest upon the table. "If I can manage the outting, then perhaps we'll learn
something of them together."

Tilting his head, he peers at the youth. "So, who of our party should be invite to join us?"

A moment of silence while Rhibi's fingers pick at the crumbs around the cake. "Maglind must come, I suppose," he says
reluctantly. "Will you be able to talk to them, do you think?"

Pursing his lips, and furrowing his brow in thought, the Tailor tilts his head. "I don't know. If they speak common, I think
we can now manage a conversation, but I really have no idea if we'll me any to begin with."

Straightening his head, he offers the youth a grin. "If we're lucky then we will meet someone, if not, then we can sing of
the sights of their lands."

Rhibi nods, grinning. "I shall make a map," he declares suddenly. And as suddenly veers to another topic. "Think you that we
will get to speak with Curunir again?" he asks. "I ... I have not gotten yet to ask him how to kill those trolls. He was not
angry, even though I - I fell." Puzzlement wrinkles his young face. "I cannot think how it came to be. I never fall! It was
as if the stones.. slide from under my hand."

Leaning forward towards the table, Galharth crosses his arms and lowers his chin to rest atop his arms. "I would hope we'll
speak again with Curunir soon, but this search through his scrolls is taking time." Glancing towards the youth, the corner
of his mouth rises slightly. "Kill a troll? Aye, perhaps he can give you pointers as he is rather wise from all I've heard."

Chuckling, a gaze of sympathy is offered to Rhibi, "I've had some strange moments myself in the past weeks, perhaps it's an
ailment that we need to see Ostiel or Mia about when we return home."

"Perhaps it is a curse!" Rhibi says, a hint of delight in his voice. "Yes, for I must know how." He shoots a swift glance at
Galharth. "I think still that your net would work - but the Ent was right, I think. It needs to be much stronger. And then
what shall we kill it with when we have it down? What kind of sword cuts rocks?"

"I fear that you ask questions I an not answer. I know little of smithing, save for the relationship to my own craft."
Galharth replies with a touch of regret. "Alas, we ask the question that is asked by so many for so many years. While I
would not say it is hopeless, I do think that your asking questions is what will gain us the tools needed to defeat your
sworn foe."

The youth slips around the table and heads for the door; nearly losing his balance half-way there. He waves his arms wildly,
banging one hand against a table and eliciting an angry growl from across the room. Somehow the boy makes it out the door
without falling...

Watching the youth leave the kitchen, the elder ellon takes the childs plate and utensil and walks across the room towards
the wash basin. As he dips the plate into a bucket of soapy water, he begins to hum softly. His hum is low and soothing, and
to those not of the first born it might even seem magical.

Quiet is the tower of Saruman this morn. Not even the few servants nor the guards seem to be about...except for those that
guard the restricted areas of His tower. But there is one that does walk the halls this morn.

Heavy footfalls announce the now cleaned up Kylin. Though his travel clothes he still wears, they have been cleaned. A pause
at the door as he hears the humming and for a time he listens before he clears his throat to announce his arrival. "Good
morn, .... I don't think I caught your name the other night," he says.

Looking up as he rinses the plate and fork, the Tailor offers the human a smile in response to his arrival. "I am Galharth",
he offers softly as he shakes the water from the freshly washed kitchenware, "Well met and good morn to you, Kylin."

With a fluid elegance to his moves, he sits the items in his hands atop the counter near the wash basin. "It seems fortunate
to meet you again this day, especially since Rhibi and I were speaking of you such a short time ago." Taking a step towards
the human, the crafter lifts his chin. "Do you have a moment?"

"Good friend," Kylin begins as he watches the elf "I have all the time that you should need. For a guest of Saruman's
deserves such." He makes his way to the pot of tea that rests on one of the flat ovens, a mug of tea is poured and he leans
against the counter. The mug is cradled in both hands and held close to his face.

A puff of his breath sends the tendrils of steam away from him and he takes a sip before continuing "Talking about me...not
much to talk about really. But I am at your service, Galharth."

Watching the human with interest, Galharth listens with a neutral expression. Offering a nod at Kylin's final words. "That
is kind of you," he says softly, letting his words ring as a song within the room. Drawing his hands behind his back,
clasping his fingers lightly, the ellon tilts his head to the right as he considers the other within the room. "We've noted
that several in the service of Curunir are of Dunlending heritage. Since their lands are so close, Rhibi and I are
considering an outing to view your Neighbor, perhaps learn something of their culture." The ever present smile widens as the
Galadhrim lifts his head straight. "We were wondering if perhaps we could borrow a few horses to make this outing."

Another sip of tea, followed by a time of silence. At last Kylin nods "It is true, that Saruman does have many of the folks
of Dunland decent here," again there a pause before he continues "I have passed through their lands many times. As for
horses, yes that could be arranged. But I must warn you that they will not be like the ones that you may be used to."

A chuckle "And what of this quest you are on...this search for information about some ship? Is this now forgotten as you go
to seek out the nature of the Dunlendings?"

"Even a human's horse offers a faster means of travel than could be achieved running, though I'm sure our endurance is much
better." Galharth chuckles with merriment twinkling in his eyes, "The assistance is appreciated."

When the chuckle fades, so too does the smile. "We still remain focused upon the search for information, but since we can
not help in the search, our time is idle." The words spoken softly, seem reserved. "I thought perhaps an outing would wile
away the time whilst we wait for Curunir to complete his search."

Nodding "I see...well," Kylin replies "how many horses shall you wish? I would, of course, offer my assistance in traveling,
for as I have said I know the lands between here and there very well." As for the words of the search by Curunir the man
does not seem to even have heard.

Releasing the grip of his hands behind his back, Galharth sweeps his right hand forward indicating the westward direction.
"We would be glad for the company showing us what lay to the West of your home." Pausing he lifts a brow. "I had thought
your were helping in the search for information on the ship..... was I mistaken?" he asks, dropping his hands to his side.

Smiling again, he shakes his head lightly. "Never the mind, your company would be welcomed." Pausing, the ellon's crystal
blue eyes peer intently into the Human's face. "I know of three, but there are perhaps four who might wish to see the
Dunlending lands. Can this be arranged for perhaps... today?"

Matching the chuckle "While I too am a guest of Saruman's, and some would say a trusted guest, I too have limits of where I
can go. As I noted the other eve there are scrolls older than can be fathomed by a human such as I. Though I dare venture to
guess that they would not be seen as such by a Firstborn. But Saruman protects them, for if harm were to come all knowledge
that they contain would be lost for ever. Knowledge that he uses to help those that dwell on the lands now and in the
future."

"Today, you say...Yes, I will see to it my self. 4 horses and a pack horse to carry tents and food...I do not think this
would be a problem." A warm smile comes to Kylin that becomes hidden as he once again sips his tea.

"Ah," the Tailor says softly, as he takes a step to walk around the human. "I had thought you to be a trusted member of his
staff rather than a Guest." His smile changes slightly as his turns his head to watch the human as he speaks. "Clearly you
are a trusted friend, well above the status of mere guest. At least this is what it seemed in our meeting."

Pausing to Kylin's left, he nods. "Do we really need the burden of a pack animal? Can we not travel fast and light?"
Galharth asks.

A smile "I do take messages now and then for Saruman. This is true. Yet I still am but a guest of his," Kylin says as the
mug is set on the counter. Turning back to let his eyes settle on that of the Elf "Long have I done so for him. But this is
not my home, all the same."

"I think that an added horse shall not slow us any. Besides, a few gifts brought along to offer to the Dunlendings never
hurts to help the introductions along." He chuckles "And unlike you and your kin, I do grow old and have found that a few
comforts on the road are always welcome."

"I defer to your expertise and knowledge of their culture," Galharth says with a nod. "I only ask for aid you with the
burden of caring for the extra animal." Folding his arms over his chest he appears firm in his request to be of help.

A slight frown appears upon the ellons lips. "Isengard is not your home?" He asks, "From where do you herald from?"

With a shake of his head "Nay, my home is Gondor. But by a quirk of fate I have come here to provide such service to Saruman
as needed. It is a long story and one that mayhaps we could speak of while we are on the road. But," Kylin pushes himself
from the counter where he has been leaning "If I am to get the horses and the supplies we shall need this day then I should
be at it."

Nodding lightly, the Tailor watches Kylin rise. "I'll let the others know of our intent, and be sure that they are ready to
ride." Taking a step towards the door, Galharth makes to leave. Pausing a moment, he bows his head towards the human. "Thank
you." And with that he disappears through the door.