Tauran, Belegedhel and Galenthil at the Mar

As the breeze about the talan shifts slightly, a guard from the Order enters the Mar. Clearly of Gweth Tarn origin, as his cowl is a greyish hue. The Knight-Bachelor makes hiw way to Siniathweg, converses a few choice words and is served a large glass of fine wine. Grasping his newly acquired drink, the guard makes way to a large table in the back of the Mar, sitting with a great groan in his knees he rests upon a bench where numerous greater men have dwelled before.

Already seated at a long wooden table upon a bench, Belegedhel smiles as the knight-bachelor  takes a seat with him. Taking a small sip of his mead after shivering from the cold draft  that blew in with the elf. "Mae govannen Tauran, how fares your day? 'Tis been a long while  since last we held converse mellon, and I am sure you have had many strange occurrences in  your life to relate to a simple learner such as I." he says with a smirk.

Tauran chuckles slightly in Belegedhel's direction. "Indeed mellon, the day fares as most  for me. A great breeze of fresh life does blow into my heart today, for some odd reason everywhere  I turn gaze melodies do tug at my ears. As for our last encounter if I recall as such, we  were on a hunt for the nest of these rather odd insects." Beconing for the learner to draw  nearer, Tauran continues. "If you would draw closer, I will tell the tale of the wargs across  the river Celebrant."

With an odd expression set upon his face, and his head tilted upon its side, Belegedhel slides the cup of mead down the table toward Tauran before sliding himself along the bench. Sitting about an elbow length from the knight-bachelor, Belegedhel says "Den of wargs, I have heard naught of this encounter mellon. Mayhap I should hold my tongue and let you tell this tale, for it already intrigues me." as he takes another long sip of his mead and awaits patiently Tauran's tale to begin.

Galenthil comes in, standing uncertainly for a second by the entranceway.

A serving maid bustles about the long table and rudely interrupts Tauran's story. Belegedhel hushes her at first, and as she is departing, he calls out for another cup of mead. The maid seems disgruntled, but Belegedhel only continues to peer at Tauran. Noticing a figure enter the talan, he waves pleasantly to the stranger and motions for her to come sit at the long table with them.

Galenthil shrugs slightly to herself, smiles to Belegedhel, and slips into a seat at his table.

The Knight-Bachelor begins with a deep inhale, setting the scene of the event. "On a mid-day afternoon, as the sun danced about the sky. The Elder-Knight and Knight Warden respectively took counsel, and as I was in attendance I heard of the tell tales signs of warg activity across the Celebrant. I traveled with my fellow Order on our crossing of the river, as Kathalis did detect faint sounds eminating from the immediate woods. As such, he signled to Terridan to travel westward, as I drifted off to the distant eastern foliage." The guard draws a draught from his wine glass, as he continues, with wild hand motions he describes how Terridan and 
himself split into a flanking position. "As we drew ever closer to a large overhang upon the banks of the river, a emense growling eminated about our area." Rising with a booming voice, Tauran exclaims. "From forth the dense darkened overhang, the rcho did throw off our direction, for behind us lept forth a frothing mangy warg. Teeth of sharp razors, with a raised snarling lip!"

Galenthil glances over her two table-mates briefly, before placign an order of her own.

When the maiden sits aside him, Belegedhel looks quickly in her direction before returning his gaze to the speaker. Quickly looking back, he is striken by her beauty, but remains silent as the knight-bachelor speaks.

With a sharp indrawn breath, Belegedhel stretches his legs out and fumbles for his cup as he listens. "No!" he exclaims quickly... "That surpasses by far strides the hunt for those wretched bees mellon!" then silencing himself he says "And what occurred next?"

Galenthil looks somewhat bemusedly at Tauran, listening to the story with distracted air.

Realizing how rude he had been, and how distracted she seems, in not introducing himself to such a maid, Belegedhel looks to the maiden and smiles saying "Mae govannen mellon." with a slight bow. "I fear I have yet to make acquaintance with you, and if I had, it has slipped my mind, though I doubt it be possible for me to forget a face as fair as yours. Prithee, what is your name? I am called Belegedhel, and this is Tauran, of the Order of Lorien."

Dry of mouth, the guard regains speed as his tale continues. "All thrice of us taken off guard twirl around, I with less speed would have fallen victim to the warg had Kathalis naught pushed me out of harms way. As Terridan and Kathalis drew forth brilliant glinted longsword, they began to engage the warg. Stumbling to my feet I grasped my longbow and drifted a distance from the engaged warg. From my vantage point a great battle did ensue, swing for swing Kathalis and Terridan were dominating the encounter. In certain places of great availability, I lent a few well placed arrows aloft at the beast."

Smiling at his friend's words, Belegedhel says merrily "Mellon! Had not I said a matter of a few years ago that you would one day rise to commit deeds of great valour? Was it not I who said that I should chronicle your doings in form of verse and prose? Come! Relate the rest of this tale, for I doubt not my heart when it tells me that you were valourous Tauran." while he claps Tauran upon his shoulder, making the bench creek and groan ever more under their weight.

Galenthil smiles amusedly at Belegedhel,nods acknowledgement, then turns back to Tauran, obviously not wanting to interrupt the other's story.

Downing a great draught from his wine glass, Tauran finishes the sweet elven liquid. Swiping  at the clinging drops on his face, "In making a short tale of it, the great warg fell before  the great swings of Terridan, Kathalis, and my lofted arching arrows. Felled in battle, all  was still as the blood gushed forth from the matted fur of the heaped beast."

Nodding to Tauran as he finishes his tale, Belegedhel says "Aye, 'tis one that deserves commitment  to parchment mellon. Indeed... the calibre of our Order is magnificent, for every time I see  you next, another tale you have to tell of heroing events that have come to pass." Looking  now to the maid, he says "I am pleased to make acquaintance with you Galenthil, and a fine chance it was to meet with you upon such a lovely day. What errands had you today fair maid?" he says in an inquisitive tone.

Galenthil 's lips curve in a small smile. "Errands? Why, none. This day was a joyful one, and not burdened by matters coming near the weight your friend tells of.

Smirking, Belegedhel looks about the talan, then to his cup, and then out the fenestrations at the glistening golden mallyrn before he speaks "'Tis grand news indeed Galenthil, for I had hoped to share a few late-morn drinks with you, and become acquainted better." Looking now to the maiden before taking a larege draught from his cup, and draining it, Belegedhel says "Tauran is concerned with these matters regularly, or so it would seem. Not long before his encounter with the wargs, he and I found the bee hive and the queen of those that plagued our Wood for so long, bringing myself; as I am untrained in the arts of wielding weapons, nearly unto Mandos." with a slight smirk.

Belegedhel:
Before you stands a tall, enchanting figure. His hair is raven-feather dark, and falls in a shimmering cascade to just about his chin. Staring at you is a bare face, which is pale, and yet has a certain brilliance to it. His high cheek bones are contrasted by his strong jaw. Large, dark eyes are set amid the pale hue of his face, and appear as would two deep,dark inkwells set upon white parchments. These dark, yet bright eyes suggest he may indeed be among the Firstborn. About his neck is hung a silver pendant; with a nimrodel, surrounded by three diamonds; which hangs loosely from a dark strip of leather, resting upon his breast.

He is clad all in green, with his tunic being of a darker hue than that of his trousers.  The hem of his pants as well as his tunic are of a brownish hue, leathery in appearance. His tunic swoons down at the neck in a sharp 'v' shape.Upon his feet are worn high leather boots that come to about his knees, with laces that run all the way along the front of them.

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Tauran:
Out of the corner of your eye you glance a grey blur... Tauran, a Silvan elf born of Caras Galadon. Great Gweth Tarn of the Order of Lorien, standing well over 6 feet, his size and stature sets a imperative presence. A frame cast tall and slender, his sholders glide with fluid grace. As a child he was revered for his stealth and cunning. Now grown he has vowed to protect the lands that bore him. His glimmering eyes sparkle in the golden light of Lorien, ever alert, never focusing on a object for long. Amber hair, fastened with a single strand of fine silver, glowing with inner power. Concealed under a translucent grey cowl, a stern face shaped with unspeakable sapience. Draped over his forged body, a flowing cloak of erratic hue, clasped with a gold Mallorn leaf, pierced with a silver arrow. A faint glint of metal punctures the shifting light of the cloak. Resting with ease over his shoulder lies Hoor Brant Alagos, and over his back a fine leather quiver. A glint streams forth from the quiver, as a arrow of pure silver lies amongst the others. Wisdom and time have lent this Quende a aged and learned soul. Forever shall he protect Lorien, Lord Celeborn, and Lady Galadriel. All dwellers of the forest shall rest with secured minds, knowing Tauran is forever on the patrol.

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Galenthil:
The elf maiden is tall, and slim even for her kind. She stands straight as a sword blade, an unbending statue of alabaster skin and gleaming hair. A scattering of light freckle-flecks does not mar her still, aloof beauty. Storm-gray eyes neither welcome nor rebuff, merely observing everything from behind their opaque surfaces. Age is seen there, perhaps, a passage of springs and autumns and winters, but no more. Her light gown, the color of the first soft leaves of spring, billows gently around her. Loose earth stains her palms and bare feet. Vibrant with the scent of green growing things, the elf's hair tumbles in a shining, earthen-brown waterfall to her waist. Her movements are quick and graceful, punctuated by stillness. A loosely woven circlet of mallyrn leaves crowns her head.

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