================== Eldarin Calendar in Sindarin ===================
IC time is: Twilight About 8:16 PM
IC day is: Orithil Moon-day
IC date is: 15 Iavas Autumn
Moon phase: Waning Gibbous VISIBLE
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 3 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor TA 3027
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RL time: Thu Oct 31 14:45:39 2002
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Winery
This large structure holds thousands of casks of wine in various stages of the fermentation process. Beyond the various barrels and casks, a large wine press rests silently and broodingly in a cleared area of the room. Much activity can be found here during the harvest time.


A lopsided moon hangs low and heavy in the evening sky, colored orange and yellow by the setting sun. The first stars gleam in the eastern sky, brightening by the minute. In the warm still air of autumn, the winery is quiet save for the sound of arguing voices. The equipment is unused, the grapes not yet quite ready for harvest.

One of the group is a tall counsel/apprentice vintner with a sack huddled at his feet. He seems very earnest about what he says, his hands moving through the air in deliberate lines as he sketches pictures to illustrate his words. "You see," he says. "The wood goes like so and the vines grow upon it. There is more exposure to the sun and the grapes will ripen sooner, I think." Around him in the shadowy building, others stand with varying expressions of agreement or stubbornness.


A muscular elf stands next to the vintner, listening intently. His pale eyes flash with interest at Lothdaimoth's words. "Ripen sooner? What good will that do? That will not change the seasons..." Khwiniol's words trail off and he stares towards the distant vines. "Still... " He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small notebook. "I'd like to see this, will you draw it for me?"


Arms crossed with a defiant stance, the vintner Athrelei is silent after the Counsel's speech. With a wary and critical eye she regards him, and shakes her head slightly at Lothdaimoth, reddish-brown tresses following her motion, and she also flashes a glance as lightning at the other vintner nearby. "I do not think such things are needed. Have not our vines flourished many years among the mellyrn?"


"Yes.." The notebook is taken and a swift scrawl outlined. "See - they grow thus. No, it will not change the seasons, but who can tell what difference might be in the wine? The sugars in the grapes..." Enthusiastically, he turns to the one more reluctant. Voice polite and respectful, but with an underlying tone of stubbornness, he says, "It may be true that such is not needed, but think of what we may learn by trying. Here..." He stoops to the bag at his feet, coming up with a darkly red bottle. "Try some of the wine?"


Khwiniol studies the notebook, and a smile begins to grow upon his lips. "Yes, more sunlight, sugars.." He begins to scribble random words next to the drawing, pausing to bite his lip and think. Noticing the reluctant vintner, Khwiniol hands her the notebook. "I see what he means, this could help the grapes grow bigger, sweeter."


Two well-scuffed boots covering grey leggings topped by a long grey-green tunic and a pair of strong, square hands are the only part of the elf not obscured behind the barrel that he is carrying. The barrel is set down and Rorfimir stands impassively absently wiping the dust from his hands as he listens to the vintner's description of...."What has he brought us back now?"


Wine is splashed somewhat absently into glasses while Lothdaimoth continues to talk. "I do not wish to change all of how we do things. I am not asking that all the grapes be torn from their trees and forced to grow on this trellising - I only want to try." The deep burgundy wine glows in the faint yellow light of the moon, and he sets the bottle down gently, gesturing for them to help themselves. "With some of the vines that I was gifted by the Miruvorthaer in Imladhris."


Only a fleeting glance does the elleth vintner give to the notebook, before thrusting it toward the new arrival. "Rorfimir, Lothdaimoth wishes to plant vines using these... these trellises," she says, with more than a hint of distaste. "I still see not why these new vines must be planted using trellises. I still hold that the grapes would be grown just as well among the mellyrn, as they have been. After all, wine made by the Dinlym is produced from grapes grown thusly, and our wines are the most excellent." And, aye, this is said with a pride not held with subtlety.


The wine glistens temptingly. Khwiniol reaches slowly for a glass, swirls it, then takes a small sip. His eyes close and a look of concentration fills his face. A smile plays at the corners of his mouth, then spreads into a full-fledged grin. Eyes fly open as he positively beams at Lothdaimoth. "Well you have won my vote, tis for sure. This is heavenly!" He takes another sip.


Eyebrows rise high at the sound of the famous vintner title Miruvorthaer and Rorfimir walks around the barrel he has set down and goes over to join the other vintners. "Trellises, you say?" The eyebrows remain skeptically raised while he reaches for a glass. He holds the glass up and swirls it examining how the wine clings to glass with a critical eye. He pouts his lips after the first taste, squinting his grey eyes and raises his glass and takes a fuller mouthful which he holds in his mouth before swallowing. Holding the glass up and regarding it intently he asks, "What year was this laid down?"


Lothdaimoth stands quietly, dark eyes going from face to face until a question is directed his way. "They did not tell me, Rorfimir. Only that it had been laid down some years ago, a new wine that was just now ready for tasting." Turning then to the elleth, he says, his voice still the same blend of politeness and obstinance. "Dinlym has long produced excellent wines, tis true. But someone long ago had to try the first new thing in order for it to become old and trusted." A smile flashes towards Khwiniol at his unstinting praise of the wine. "Perhaps a compromise might be suggested. Did I plant some portion of the new vines around the mallyrn as custom, and some on these fencings? What think you of that, mellyn?"


"It is complex, it has a long finish. The Dinlym wines are greener and less tannic than this." His large hand dwarfs the glass he is holding but he carefully swishes the wine around again before tilting his head back and taking another sip."One would think that this came from a sunnier clime than Imladris. Do you say that the trellises are behind that?" (Rorfimir)


"It is a wonderful idea, of course." Khwiniol drains the glass and eyes the remaining portion. "Eh, might I.. have another taste? Just to be certain of course." His lips twitch playfully. "Our wine is better, I am sure, but there are subtleties in theirs that, used in our own vineyards, could create a truly magnificent wine."


When there is wine to be had, never is the Host of the Mar far behind. Indeed it is at this time that Palan steps into the area, raising a brow at the goings-on of the various Vintners. "Aye, a fine time for a gathering now, isn't it?" He approaches the small group and looks at the items near at hand, again with raised brow. "Now what have we here? Wine without occasion, or have I been left out of something?" With a small chuckle he adds, "Please do not tell me the ears of the Mar are no longer what they once were!"


A long clear laugh breaks forth from Lothdaimoth's lips. "Of course, mellon," he says, refilling the glass. "It is very good, you must certainly have another taste. And of course ours are better..."

With a sly wink, he turns to Rorfimir, hand still holding the neck of the bottle, he says, "I think it may be, but I do not know. This is why I wish to try it. If that is the cause, think of the difference in our own wines." A quick glance is thrown the other, more stubborn vintner, and he adds hastily, "Not that we need to change any of the vintages we currently make, but some new ones might also be good."

Another voice from behind brings his head around and he raises the bottle with a flourish. "You must have a drink, mellon! It is a red brought from Imlad, tell us what you think." One long arm snakes sideways for a glass and holds it out in Palan's direction.


Grey eyes slant towards Lothdaimoth, sliding between the glass still upheld in his and and the vintner's eager face. "Half and half for the planting would be a fair compromise and a good way to test the idea without," glancing around at the other vintners, "offending too many sensibilites, I think." Rorfimir puts down his glass and gestures with a slight smile and the merest of nods for another glass. "This should be taken into consideration." Raising his glass he gestures a toast at Lothdaimoth. "How many root stocks did you bring back with you?"

He turns and toasts Palan with his glass, "Now, here we have an old hand at wines. How fare you, Palan?"


"A compromise? Perhaps," says the elleth-vintner, still her gaze finding the others with a wary eye, still her arms crossed in protest. Her deep-coloured eyes trail to Palanheneledh new-arrived, and as she speaks her words, a slight frown crosses her brow. "Lothdaimoth wishes to break the customs of old and plant vines upon trellises." A moment more and she adds a muttered (and sounding a bit frustrated), 'Imagine!' Still disagreeing by word and by appearance, Athrelei speaks to the Counsel, and her words are keen. "I would that none of these vines be put upon trellises, yet it seems a compromise will be the only way to satisfy, will it not? I will yield but slightly, and not happily in this. Plant some of the vines upon this fencing and the rest among the mellyrn: that seems the only solution."


Turning an eye to the glass, Palan's lips widen into a small smile. He grasps the glass lightly and brings it close to his eye. His eyes sparkle a bit as he brings the edge of the glass to his lip and takes a small drink. He swirls the liquid in his mouth for a bit, and swallows it, though hesitantly. His brow then furrows a bit at the comments of Athrelei. He raises the drink to be seen by all. "You, elleth, would do best in a comprimise. I have toiled with the vines of Imladris, and they are still quite sweet with our methods. It may be just me, but the southern climes, along with the natural support of our mallyrn, provide a natural chill, a tang of exquisite sharpness to the brew. Imladris certainly is good competition with their trellises, but the sun-kissed vines tend to be a bit...smoother in their taste. I like my wine with a taste one could tell each and every time it is encountered!"


Forgotten is Rorfimir's question as Lothdaimoth watches Palan drink, a little anxiety apparent in his eyes. But as the other speaks, he begins to nod. "Yes," he says eagerly. "Ours are much more distinctive. But think what might be the result if, in our more southern climate, we did but try a few of their methods. Might not our own wines become all the better?"

Now does he seem to remember what was asked of him, turning towards the other vintner and measuring out some space with circled arms. "A bundle of so large, I did not count them individually, but I believe there are about 30." Last are his words directed to Athrelei. "I am content with this. If you all agree, I will build trellising for some few of the vines and place the rest as usual?" From one to the next he turns, questioningly - the one for, the one against and the third who seems to stand in the middle.


Replacing his glass Rorfimir stands tapping his chin and his eyes widen in surprise at the number of vines, "Only 30 say you? But that will not yield enough to make a test. You would need to plant them all on those Imladrin things -" waving his hand," those trellises."


"Aye, I will agr--" begins Athrelei to the Counsel, yet at Rorfimir's words, she stops in her speech. Gaze flying to the vintner, a frown creases her brow to pair with her wide eyes. "A compromise I will agree to, but not that, nay! I shall not agree to that, Rorfimir." Her arms uncross only to settle upon her hips, dark gaze piercing. "Nay, I shall not."


Palan's brow raises at Lothdaimoth's words, and he shakes his head softly. "I'm afraid not, Mellon." He takes another drink of the miruvor and nods. "Indeed...the taste is certainly not the style I would have made it, nor would have preferred. And we simply do not get the blessings of the sun needed for such an endeavour. Our brews tend to take the flavor of the chill, rather than the warmth of Anor into their taste." He looks at the glass in his hands for a moment, twitching his lips in contemplation. Slowly, he looks to Athrelei, though his words are for Lothdaimoth. "I shall have to agree with this one. Until we are better able to sample the vines in different areas, we shall have to be content without trellises."


At first unconcerned, Lothdaimoth shrugs. "There may be more, as I said I counted them not. Yet still, what is to worry - soon these will grow and we can take more cuttings, the numbers will multiply soon enough." But protest grows in his expression as, at the last moment, his compromise seems as if it will be snatched away from him. "But might we not try? For not all have tastes alike, and some might prefer such a wine." He looks back to the other two, pleadingly. "I know they are few, yet still might there be enough for a trial. Half on fences, half upon the mallyrn as was said. Twould not make a wine for many to drink, but enough to see how the flavors differ?"


A very slight shake of the head is Rorfimir's first reaction, eyebrows inch up and crease his forehead as Arthrlei nearly stamps her foot. He stands stiffly in place, eyes travelling from face to face to gauge their reactions to such a strong display of opposition. After the outburst has finished he leans forward to refill his glass, seeking further confirmation of the distinctiveness of the wine they have been drinking. Lips pursed in a thoughtful expression he holds the glass by its stem and whirls the wine contemplatively. "I am fond of our wine and know that our methods are tried and true. But this," holding out the glass to emphasize his words, "but this has enough distinction to merit study and I would like to see the results of this experiment that Lothdaimoth proposes." A sip and a swallow, "Lothdaimoth does not propose that we change all our methods or all our stock, merely that we try these trellises. I for one would be inclined to taste the results."


"To half and half I will agree, Lothdaimoth," says Athrelei keeping her dark eyes to the Counsel, but only after they flick quickly to Rorfimir and back. She crosses her arms again, though not so harshly this time, but still lends a soft 'hmph' toward the supportive vintner. "To Lothdaimoth's compromise will I agree." Yet still she shakes her head slightly, stirring reddish-brown tresses.


Palan's brow rises once again...it would seem the brow would stay there permanently now. However, he shakes his head and smiles wanly at the 3-vote majority before giving in. "None shall be drinking of this brew, I suppose, but it is better to have it done now, than to waste the blessings of hundreds of vines in order to find our results to be soured. I shall be taking a personal interest in their care, though, if I might? Not the most important hand in them, by any means, but I should like to check on them often...it can get difficult, or so I've heard..."


Lothdaimoth relaxes slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "Is it decided then? I thank you. And, for all my enthusiasm, I agree with Palan. Neither do I wish to waste hundreds of vines on something that might after all be found worthless." He weighs the bottle he still holds measuringly then nods, his smile turning a little sly. "I must save some of this.. but there is enough if any wish another mouthful or two...?" Dark eyebrows go up inquiringly and he looks around. "I will not offer it to you," he says to Palan with a chuckle. "Knowing what you think of the taste. But I would be glad of your assistance. I have put the vines in a cool spot where they can sit without harm while all is prepared. But after the planting, come anytime. I do not yet think I have learned everything."


A over loud smack of the lips and Rorfimir shrugs slightly and smiles in apology before taking another sip from his nearly empty goblet. A smile for both the wine which he again holds up to to examine for any secrets it is ready to reveal and for the agreement that seems to be reached. "I shall be on hand to help you set the roots if need be Lothdaimoth. Just call on me." He replaces the now drained glass and allows his smile to broaden.

"Palan it was good to see you in our fair fields, you must visit us yet more often. Athrelei." Rorfimir gives the faintest suggestion of a wave before going back to the barrel he had set down earlier. In a swift balanced lift the barrel is hefted into his arms and he leaves the group to their discussion.


"It is decided, then," repeats Athrelei with a short nod. "And since it is decided, I should have to be off now." Her tone does not seem to have lightened much and with an easy motion, she turns upon her heels. Long, reddened-brown hair-strands trail this spin, and with a faint call of 'namarie' she is away, crossed arms and all, toward the Vineyard Path.


The bottle is carefully recorked. Stooping for the brown sack at his feet, Lothdaimoth slides the wine into the wrapping and tucks it under one arm before turning likewise to leave. "Namarie, mellyn. I will tell you when all is planted." A cheerful smile is bestowed on the Mar's Host and he too is gone. From the darkened night without floats back a few more words. "Again, my thanks!"