Gilgwaith, Marendin and Gillhach

Naith of Lorien
You stand riverside, in Dwimordene, amidst the grey bowls of the mallyrn and the conceiling underbrush on the eastern banks of the river Celebrant. It is here in these golden woods where the rolling foothills of the Misties come to an end and in the Elven realm of Lothlorien, often called Dwimordene or Dreamland by men, begins. It's summertime, and the mallyrn's leaves and branches form a light canopy of green to match the scattered undergrowth below. Presently, the high midday sun streams down, dispelling all shadows and causing the river to glitter.

Aloft, set high up in the heavens, the noonday sun; resplendant gold, blazes it's light down upon Laurelindorenan. Upon the gore, the Egladil, the spike that juts between the roaring waters of the Celebrant and Anduin, 'pon whose verdant grasses few are seen to tread. Whilst down below, and stealthily; a maid, all cloaked and cowled in lorien grey that befools the eye: fleet of foot, walks silently about the great clearing of the Naith, bound for the water's crossing.

Across the water, a white-clad elf, bearing the blue stripe of an ordinary Healer, is poking among the shrubbery, as usual. He pauses now and again, dipping out of sight and then reappearing, then moving on. He nearly reaches the riverside when he stands erect and frowns, looking up and down the banks. He shakes his head in frustration and pauses, feeling something approaching. He peers about, but the clearing seems deserted, save for a rustling of leaves. "Just the wind, I suppose.." he mutters and, wiping his brow to take away some sweat, steps into the clear cold water to cross back into the Dwimordene.

A grey clad figure swings down from a nearby guard talan he lands on the ground his feet make a barely auidable *thump* as they hit the ground.

Unseen, unheard; forsooth, with neither sound nor motion to mark her passage. No thread left upon a fleeting thorn, and with the grass unmarked beneath her dainty, booted feet; the elleth makes good time about her route. Following the line of the trees where it extends, from the deepening woods in the north, like a great arrowhead down into the gore; and missed by the guards on sentry there, by knowledge of their placing, and skill surpassing the depth of their vigil. The huntmaster is come well nigh unto the crossing of the Celebrant, 'ere; out she steps, and is revealed 'neath the midday sun.

The waters of Nimrodel are indeed icy cold, but the feeling is nothing but refreshing for the young Healer Marendin and he revels in it as he resumes his crossing, having assured himself that danger is not in prospect. Reaching the other side, he shakes his boots, shedding water and then moving up the bank. When he gains the top, the clearing is laid before him, highlighted by a lissome female figure. He smiles, recognizing her and with a light bow, turns in her direction. He says, keeping his voice pitched to only reach her, "Greetings, huntress! I hope your hunt has been good? Or at least, better than mine, a failure save for the few items I already had in abundance."

Gilgwaith throws the grey cowl onto his shoulders he removes the bow from his back and the quiver from his right hip and sets the leaning on a nearby mallorn trunk.

As Marendin mounts the bank, and given his address; the huntress answers, her tone quite amicable: "Good day, m'lord;" Says she. Given pause, she answers his inquiry; "Quite well, and yet..." Her breast heaves with a sigh, "Not so well... Big game is scarce... and pheasant or coneys aren't my desire..."

Marendin sighs, "Then your tasks fail you as do mine. Perhaps...hmmm.." he glances off to the west, where over the heads of the mallyrn, the steep flanks of the southern end of the Hithaeglir gleam in the bright midday sunshine, the dark expanse of Fangorn clinging to them and marching down toward the plains. He turns back, "Perhaps we both search in the wrong place. I have found much of what I need for my kit in my wanderings about Lothlorien, but it seems that some are not to be found here. Perhaps the game you seek roams the same places?"

Gilgwaith removes an leather bound book from his pack he opens it and flips through a few pages and stops he begins to read from the book taking notie of the two on the bank from the corner of his eye.

Following the healer's westward glance; to the grim expanse of Fangorn far off, which, well nigh lost 'neath the steep tops of the majestic, towering mallyrn; and better seen from such vantage as Amroth's hall might offer, is steeped in the haze of far-sight; Gillhach turns her gaze northwards then, to Dimrill Dale and the looming misties; She motions with a wave of a hand, "There," Says the huntress, "'tween our own lands and the redhorn far off, there is an abundance of the Kelvar... A buck I felled there not long ago," She lends a pause, "A clearing, I recall; north of the bend in the silverlode... Aye," She affirms her recollection, "It was there that I met a messenger from Imladris..." Shaking her head, she shirks her momentary reverie; "Southwards too... near the homes of my house; 'twas there that I was bound, by the river. Some game I pray to find there, 'ere I look beyond the fringe of our lady's realm."

Marendin follows the hunter's thoughts are she considers north and south. He nods as she mentions her current destination. "I seek the herbs that are best found in the marshes and wet places, lady. If you are not bound to being solitary, I would like to accompany you there, to see what I may find?"

Gilgwaith rises from his spot near the mallorn he bends to retrieve his weapon and pack.

A knowing smile curls the elleth's lips, 'You think to head westwards, then? For Fangorn? I should not think that you might seek out something else in that ancient wood, and not herbs only?;" But she laughs, "As for me, I go where I would... and I'm not bound as are others... and yet. I should ask the leave of my lord, 'ere I leave the wood with another in my care.""

Gilgwaith walks quietly over to the two elves standing on the bank he nods politely to them"Mae Govannen."

Marendin chuckles. "I have often gazed at Fangorn, my lady, but something tells me, not to consider it more than as a dream for a faroff day. I would like you to request your lord's permission for the journey south. My stock needs filling and I hear that my herbs may be found where your game may. Should danger threaten..Ahh, good day, mellon Gilgwaith. How fare your studies?"

Gilgwaith smiles "My studies fare well mellon, though not as well as I would like given my new duties and training take much time."

Inclining her head to a nod, an amicable greeting for the squire; to whom Marendin's words her attention draws. Gillhach looks back towards the healer, "Well then," Says she, "I shall ask our lord Celeborn, as I may. If you would go out into the southwest, and to Fangorn, then doubtless it should be allowed. Or perhaps not... it is said that Fangorn is dangerous, in ways. Yet there is game, and there are herbs. And mayhap, something else..."

Marendin nods soberly, "So have I also heard, my lady. That something seems to...well, I must confess, then. I have at times walked in the west of our woods, near to where the great dark woods stand. Looking out..well, I felt something and thought I saw something..move." He shakes his head. "Twas a glimmer about the air that day. Most like I simply saw a reflection, or the wind acting on the branches of the trees."