From above, somewhere, comes the whistle of a merry bird. A cheerful bird, one who knows the first few bars of a well known ballad. Intelligent bird, wouldn't one say? But then, a flash of light in what can only be a length of red-dark hair brings to bear an elleth that sits high upon a leafy perch, one foot dangling, the other crossed high. The song pauses, tilts, then fades, followed by a muffled snort that could mean anything. "Ho, there!" is called in merry tune to the one that took the facefall. "Is all intact?"

Gilnaurien looks up, her pride wounded more than anything else. She carefully feels hernose, surprised to find a stream of blood coming from her nostrils. "I -do- wish," she cries, "That I wwould stop making such a fool of myself in front of others who I don't know!" Her eyes are storm-wracked and her delicately pointed ears brillant scarlet

Roused from her thoughts by voices, Silwen looks up just in time to see the young elleth tumble from the last step. She rushes to the girl's side. "Are you alright. That was a nasty fall."

Laughter, light and carefree, drifts from one of the few trees that stand guard over the Last Homely House. There an elleth must be, blended almost completely save for the flame of wood-dark hair and the pale skin she makes no effort to conceal. With a graceful, easy shift, Iavanauras changes her position so that she leays fulllength upon a large limb, fingers linked over the rough bark, knees clasped securely against it, and her long hair tumbling over to serve as a bright, gaily coloured banner. "Worry not!" is her merry reply to the tumbling elleth. "I have seen dwarves make stranger deeds yet, and heard of men that could not bear half the grace you have upon a tumble." This, it seems, serves as comfort.

Gilnaurien snorts, drops of blood spraying. "I am sorry, m'lady. By my blade, whoever said Elves are supposed to be -graceful- never laid eyes on -me-!" Her thin face flushes, making the stream of blood from her bashed nose hard to see. "Jst for once in my life, I would like to be able to meet new people without making a fool of myself!" She looks down. "Gilnaurien I am called...I know thee not, noble lady, I am sorry." She looks down again at her long hands.

Silwen removes a soft handkerchief from her sleeve and offers it. "I am Silwen, a simple Nethrordur and no noble lady. Here, hold this to your nose for a moment to help with the bleeding and don't worry a thing about it."

Clothed in the green of the warmer seasons now all but past, a lady ascends the southwestern slope with an air of purpose and a lift to her step. Though having left the Loudwater behind her, she of flaxen hair brings the flowing song of its slower stretches in a tune of her own, one whistled low in crystalline tones. Eryndae, he Herdir's master vintner, bears a canvas pack slung over her right shoulder and two wicker baskets in each of her hands. Other than this her only burden is a faint glint of steel, tucked discreetly away beneath the evergreen drape of her cloak.

In her approach of the House, the aged warrior hastens her step towards Silwen and the quende she tends. Setting her burden aside on the top step of the porch, Eryndae leans in to regard both. "Still well within the vale, and already one wounded?" she inquires gently of Silwen and her patient, Gilnaurien.

Gilnaurien sits up, her eyes still storm-tossed. "Thank you," she says quietly, applying the handercheif to her nose. "I am of no station here...I have not yet began my training yet..." She notices Eryndae, then promptly ducks behind hte porch..remembering all too well their last meeting. "I am sorry, Lady....about that time...I am sorry..." she stammers, wishing ferverntly she was invisible.

Silwen smiles gently, "She merely missed her footing on the stair. 'Tis nothing, melon."

"Iavanauras am I," calls the elleth that sprawls upon a limb, looking down with curiosity bright in bluegrey eyes. "And might I add you are not half as clumsy as others I have seen!" The Tellenistril looks as if she may have wanted to add more, but the arrival of Eryndae stills her wayward tongue, and Iavanauras simply swings herself about so that she clings to the thick tree limb with her legs, bracing herself for a better view with slender arms that seem to work with wiry strength.

Bursting from the house, dressed in circumstance to be free of movement, Olathlinn pass the porch fast, contourning Gilnaurien and Silwen. She takes the red blanket she haves in her arm and unfolded it near Eryndae feet. Bags of all shapes and size appears."Madam!" She bows to the Miruvorthaer."I thought that it will be of some use..."She said pointing at the stack of bags and sachet. "I even thinks to this." She gets her hand in her own bags and shows a second later pre-cut thread and a little rectangular piece of parchement.

As tumultuous as their last meeting may have been, the wounded elleth's wariness lessens Eryndae's poise, and stately shoulders slacken with a half-hearted sigh. "Tis no matter, Gilnaurien. But do be careful, if you are to join our outing?" Patronizing, perhaps, but well-meant is her tone as she waves Gilnaurien out from behind the porch columns. To the Nethordur is a quieter aside given. "Do you intend to come as well, Silwen? Perhaps we could use your help, in case of other...minor injuries."

Olathlinn then earns the Miruvorthaer's focus, and a delighted smile flashes across her fair face at the Elisthir's display of her wares. "Thank you, Olathlinn! I expect this to be enough for all, along with the four baskets I have brought." She picks them up once more at this, and turns to hand them out, first to Gilnaurien and Silwen. Then turning to Iavanauras, still aloft, the lady quirks an eyebrow. "Will you come as well? If so, your feet would be much appreciated on the ground." What might seem a stern reprimand remains lifted in a voice more mirthful than usual, her smile further softening her words into jest.

Obeying orderse, Gilnaurien comes out from her hiding place. "I will be more careful...I never meant to..I had thought I was making a request, not ordres..." She bows low, her eyes to the gournd. "Come wiht you?" Ther eis retrained excitement in her voice. "May i, please? Where are we going...ooohhhh!" The youn elleth had started to wave her left arm in a gesture, but suddenly stops in a cry of pain, the opposite hand going to her shoulder.

"Ah, of course, Miruvorthaer!" is Iavanauras' quick reply, and with a quick, seemingly-easy gesture, the elleth clasps the tree limb with both hands, twists, scoots, and is down upon the ground in less time than it took for Eryndae to speak. A radiant smile wreathes the Tellensitril's features, a mirthful, careless cheer that is difficult to hide, impossible to muffle. "Mae govannen," she adds to every Quendi in sight as she rises from her landing crouch.

Long distance to Maegiaracha: Eryndae hopes not. :)
Silwen nods a reply to her senior healer. "Give me a moment to get a few things and I will be with you shortly." She turns on her heal with a comforting smile to Gilnaurien and hastens up the stairs and into the house. A few minutes pass and she returns, having exchanged her light shawl for a heavier, dark green traveling cloak. A large, brown satchel hangs from her right shoulder.
Olathlinn beams."Then I'll keep all the paper in my bags with the thread, quill and my bottle of ink." she whispers. She is quite surprise and not knowing what to do when Gilnaurien reacted to the pain. She gets a bit white seeing that the elleth have blood under the nose. THe elisthir turns her back and walks away a little.

Silvery notes float on the air, a traveling tune sung with light heart. As ever, the melody heralds the approach of the Olvaristdil Glasiel. This day, she is laden with several bags and baskets, and dressed for a journey. She approaches the gathered edhil, setting down her largest satchel beside her. "Mae govannen, mellyn!" she greets cheerfully. Is all in order for our journey?" She seems blithe and merry, as she has not been for several weeks.

Wincing in pain, Gilnaurien holds her left arm witjh her right hand. She recognizes Glasiel and bows low. "I am not in order..." Her voice trals off sadly. "This arm will not work...nad if we are out long I shall have to find some spare cloak and warm shoes laying around somewhere..." Her eyes hold defiance..useless arm or not, she is not staying behind...time to start earning her keppa round here!

Blinking against Gilnaurien's stumbling words, Eryndae furrows a brow to regard the elleth more thoughtfully. "Of course you may accompany those journeying. The Ford of the Bruinen is no more than a day's travel, and I expect no troub--" Yet here the lady is stopped short in her speech by Gilnaurien's cry. "But perhaps there will be more than a bloodied nose to tend to before you go anywhere, mellon. Silwen, do you deem her to be fit for travel?" As Glasiel arrives, the Miruvorthaer bids her to come closer as well, for the Miruvorthaer herself knows no more of healing than the years would teach any other.

The glindis turns to greets Glasiel with a smiles."I trust you are feelling well mellon?". She cant look in the direction of Gilnaurien. Olathlinn sits on the ground near the blanket and fall in her dreamday journey.

Gilnaurien tries not to be flippant. "I am well enough! Please let me come..it is only a arm, not a leg! Please, I have been here doing nothing in return for al the kindness shown me...please!"

From the ground beneath the tree, Iavanauras picks up a pack laden with... well, whatever an elleth such as she would bring on a jaunt as this. She eases it within reach, then has a seat upon it, pale eyes looking with a curious kind of serenity - as if she takes it all with aplomb, but shall ever be curious of it. Gilnaurien recieves a close scrutiny, as does Olathlinn. And Glasiel is the benfactor of a hands raised in merry greeting and a called out, "Mae govannen, mellon!"

Glasiel quickly piles her remaining supplies with the first satchel, and, with a glance to Silwen she approaches the Rochdur. The melody on her lips has already altered to one of healing, as she brings her hands close to Gilnaurien. The hover a hair's breadth away from the afflicted shoulder for a moment as she gauges the extent of the injury. "We can work with this, mellon, if you follow my guidance..." The words blend into the healing melody, and are spoken in gentle singsong tone.

Gilnaurien tursn, the words strangly soothing. "I am willing, what is needed?" she querie.

The blanket is soon empty of all its little bags, Olathlinn gets up and start to fold it precautionnusly. Just nowyou realise that she have herown belonging in a bag under her cloak. She attaches her blanket below it like if she has do it all her lifelong. She check at the staff she has to be sure it is well fixed to her side."For my part, I am ready when you are!"

Eryndae seems satisfied with Glasiel's assessment, and turns her focus to the others gathering on the lawn. Retrieving her canvas pack from the steps, she walks further out onto the lawn towards Iavanauras and Olathlinn. To the former one of her baskets is handed - brown with laurel patterns carved into its handle. "Here, mellon. Unless you have one of your own, this will prove useful for collections of various things." Olathlinn earns a modest smile from the vintner. "We shall depart soon, mellon. But no sooner than Gilnaurien's arm is stable. We cannot have her carrying packs on a wounded shoulder." With another glance cast back to judge their progress, the flaxen haired elleth kneels to the ground to re-tie her pack shut.

A smile is beamed at Eryndae, but for her part, Iavanauras sits quietly, leaning elbows upon her knees, chin in hands, and waits for the coming deeds to... well... come and be deeds. She seems quite cheerful, regardless fo wait, but it is easy to gather she would almost prefer to be up in the tree if she is goingt o be waiting. Or so say the light-eyed glances the Tellistril gives the tree limbs overhead.

With this word of permission, the Nethril's hands stop hovering, and start working. Deftly, her hands work on strained muscles, easing their pain, although the process is not entirely pleasant for the sufferer. Her healing melody never ceases, and continues to work in conjunction with Glasiel's hands to effect the desired outcome. After a few minutes of effort, wherein her eyes close with the exertion of the task at hand, she finally seems to be satisfied. Stepping back, she opens her eyes, and her song melts into speech. "There now. You must be very gentle with your shoulder for a short while, but I will be traveling with you to see that you are."

Olathlinn nods with a serious looks."I can carries her things for the time it is needed to, I am sturdy enough!" She ups her chin and straight herself like to proove it, but the offer is authentic and genenrous.

Gilnaurien smiels thinly, wincing and rubbing at her shoulder. "My thanks, Glasiel." she bows. Then the elleth shivers i n her thing tunic. "I...if anyone can spare them...a cloak to stay warm in and some warm shose...this is all I have...and it is cold.." She looks sadly at the short tunic, her head down in shame. "I could not bring much with me from Mithlond..."

Olathlinn gets one cloak that she was having prepare for herself and lean it to Gilnaurien. She seems hurry to depart as her move are quite brusque for once. Not in the use of the sweet elleth everyone knows of.

Glasiel smiles at Gilnaurien, nodding. She returns to her supplies again, and collects them together. "Stay near me, Gilnaurien, so I may watch your progress."

Gilnaurien wraps the warm cloak gratefully around her frame, wishing it was a tad longer or seh was a few inches shorter. She aslo notes her friend's haste to depart, so seh wipes the blood off her nose and upper lip. "Let us go then....my feet are just giong ot have to be chilly!"

Iavananuras gathers her things - a pack, light and small, and no more - and makes to move it to the camp. From there, she eases to a seated position at the farther end, where she may converse, it would seem, with a tree. Such is Iavanauras.

Seeing blood again, the elisthir turn herback on Gilnaurien.:"Oh please, you know how it makes me feels." Olathlinn is white and swallow. Sweat all over the face.

"A kind offer, Elisthir," Eryndae replies with kindness mirrored in her own voice. Then when all have their various parcels in hand, the Miruvorthaer stands and shoulders her own pack. "We shall be off then! Come everyone. Let us make for the bridge." Then with a few whispered words to the pair of Tirith closest to the Silmaethor, the company falls into pace towards the southwest.

The Forest Shore
This is a broad clearing in the lightly wooded southern side of the Valley. Sweet smelling wild-flowers speckle the grass which was absent under the shade of the trees. On the other side of the river is a gloriously green and pleasant landscape. Large shade trees dot open meadows, and the trail continues east towards the house. Crossing the river at this point is a narrow bridge. Standing right next to the river, you can hear the water splashing vigorously along the stony riverbed.

Gilnaurien moves along with the group, but lagging a bit because she is so busy looking around. When the group halts, she keeps on going, singing softly to herself..until she crashes inot someone ahead of her

Near the front of the company, the Silmaethor presses on with the small contingent of Tirith. Though long and fluid, her strides would seem entirely effortless if not for the small wisps of breath that escape visibly from warm lips into the wintry air. The sun, now well overhead and beginning its descent into the west, draws Eryndae's eyes heavenward, and when they descend anew it is with a hand lifted. "We will pause here for a awhile," she says in address to the others once they have heeded the stop, "and press on little further before evening falls."

Closing the march, Olathlinn pats GIlnaurien while she removes the pack of the Lady. "At least, keep an eye on it while we pause,would you?"She winks, posing the pack near her feet.The elisthir streches arm and legs, continuously rubbing her left elbow. She do not sit. she lean on a tree trunk, eyes fixed on Eryndae, but glancing around, scrutting the fellows.

Gilnaurien pauses,kneaeding her shoulder. "Where in stars am I and who was kind enoughb to loan me this...and who did I walk into?!" She is confused, having been walking in a waking dream, lost in her own thoughts and an inner song.

The ever low trodden noise of a gentle footfall touches both arda and ear, even after the majority of the group has fallen silent in such endeavors. Step after step brings the eloquent approach of Maegiaracha nigh the group from her distant rear lingering. Like a rhythmic drumming of heartbeats move forward a few more moments. Slowly her steps become steady and in agreement with the others, a stop. She is now alongside the main group and no longer far behind.

Olathlinn smiles, but had no precision."There is no need to knows were goods come from, take advantage of it and enjoy the trip." she said before opening her skin of wather, she near drink on it, but close it back and throw it toward Eryndae.

Pressing towards the front of the band, Celebren slides past the halted quendi. Quietly he comes up beside Eryndae, and looks towards the setting sun briefly, before saying, "It is going to be a cold night. I think it will be good that we stop soon."
"We are in the southern forests, and YOU should watch where you are going more carefully, mellon," grunts the tall, gray-clad Magor to have his stance disturbed by the untimely bump from Gilnaurien. Eryndae stills his grumblings with an icy gaze, then steps away from the escort to regard the three ellith with a kind smile.

To Celebren she speaks next. "There is not much further to proceed this eve, aye. We shall follow the waters from here. I hope our burdens are not too heavy, for only a day or two will we be away. The winter comes, and there is more to be done at home before the Heryn's long-awaited journey."

Gilnaurien smiles and decieds to make herself useful for once. She starts whistling softly and heads towards the riverbed, to look for stones, and stopping every now nad hten to look for fallen branches to gather for the fire she plans to build. She reaches for one branch to add to the pile in her arms and winces, hissing in pain, as the movement is a bit sudden for her healing shoulder.

Not entirely gracefully, but just in time no less, Eryndae catches Olathlinn's water. After a modest draught, she tosses back a grateful smile, the skin itself soon to follow in return.

Already ready to takes the path again, the elisthir moves and couches to take the bag back on her back."Oh, Bren, do you need some?" she asks, offering the water to him. The skin is less fat of liquid as near half of the mellyn have taken from it.

Seeing the Elisthir's offer, Celebren shakes his head in decline, and moves away from the crowd a bit. He sits down on the ground, and leans against a tree, his gaze going to the sky.

Maegiaracha's head drops slightly for a moment just before another voracious breathe of air is inhaled. Her calm yet remains and for a moment she drifts a step or two further away, but as time passes so does her steps return to the group. A smile accompanies her lips though perhaps a bit thoughtful it is.

The glindis shrugs and reset all her gear in place. She is antsy to reaches the evening campement. She lean back on a tree again, but support on the bags made for Gilnaurien. She gets in daydreaming quickly, rubbing her left elbow again, without thinking of it.

As the company of quendi disperses moderately into smaller gatherings, Eryndae stands alone beneath a cluster of trees. They no longer provide shade from the sun, but the sun's warmth is more welcome than in past days, as winter threatens the valley with its chill. In the naked branches of the tree the elder vintner leans on, a gray squirl rustles in the leaves of an old nest, picking it apart such that chunks of straw and leaves begin to drop slowly down on the gathering below. The vintner herself moves aside to better study the tree-dweller, laughter dancing in her eyes during this respite from traveling concerns.

Olathlinn begin to sing. SHe is in he world, her sanctuary where she naturally returns when nothing on Arda gets her attention. The song is soft, the word melancholic. Echoing to her voice, the nightingale seems to answer from afar.

Gilnaurien retunrs with her load of wood, wincing from the strain on her shoulder. She drosp the wood and kneads the aching muscle. then she looks around, wondering if she dares ask for water..but considering the mistake with Eryndae earlier...she dares not. She just stares longingly at someone's waterskin and starts to wak back to wareds the river, passing the elder Eryndae and shuddering slightly in cold feet and fear. "is there anything I can get you? Would you like some water? I will see if I can start a fire...." She hesitates, trying not to show her fear...and probably failing miserably.

"Giln!"shout friendly the elisthir, stopping her tune. "Take that!" She throws her the waterskin. Mist are now emaning from her nose and her mouth at each breathe. Olathlinn trait are tired. She moves around, shaking her feet, legs and hands. She blow air in her hand. She is getting colder. No complaint, she keeps moving.

Gilnaurien accepts a small sip of water from the skin and then thrwos it back...not enogh to slake her thirst,but no more mistakes, no more presumption. She tunrs back to Eryndae, her eyes on the ground, as she waits with unusual meekness for orders. Her breath smokes and she can feel her feet going numb...best hurry on that fire...but first to see if the elder requires anything...

"No, I am well enough after Olathlinn's offering, thank you," she intones softly to Gilnaurien, the elleth's manner earning a puzzled glance from the vintner. "But perhaps you could use some yourself?" Her eyes remain with the Thandis in quiet study in an effort to discern the source of her obvious strife from her countenance alone. "After all, you need not overwork that arm."

Gilnaurien bows low to the vinter. "Overwork it? Nay, lady...I care not if it falls off. Pain and I are aquainted from an early age...with an older brother, you learn to take hurts and strains in stride. Besides, I wish to be sueful...and I am hte only one here without rank or station, so it is logical for me to work wheile others take ease!" She clicks her heels together, offeringf a salute, as she goes back to the river for stones. Large ones for the fire-ring..and hauling them one under each arm, panting slightly and ignoring the returning pain, determined to be useful and no more of a freeloader. On one trip, she pauses for a second to take a draught of the river-water to ease her thirt and gasps at the cold, then goes chasing more rocks, not noticing she is losing feeling in her feet.

Though clearly focused, and with no intent to let the matter slide, Eryndae spares a moment to the pair of Magor. "On second thought, perhaps this would be a better site for camp. Tonight will be cold, and the sooner we are warmed by fires, the better our feet shall fare tomorrow." That said, the pair of edhil unsling their packs and set to work on setting up the modest camp...

...and Eryndae returns her argent gaze to Gilnaurien, frowning lightly as she observes the elleth's work. "Gilnaurien?" she calls, more a mild request that an order, as to the Magoriath. "Might we speak more plainly?" This, her inquiry, is matched with a wave, hoping the ellith will heed and return to the center of where camp is being built.

Gilnaurien starts vilently, dropping a rock on her toe. She resists the urge to cry out in pain, nad moves back toEryndae, limping slightly from sore toes and the start of numbness in her feet. "Of course my lady, just let me drop these rocks..." she assents. Qukcly she sets down the rocks with the others..almost enough, she notes...and then retunrs to stand, shaking slightly, before her elder.

Olathlinn sighs. She was loaded as a dunkey and thaugh she was not complaining, she is now relief. She gets all bags, numerous waterskins. She bows to Eryndae, pats Gilnaurien and Maegi then desappeared climbing into a tree like a squirrel. "Good night mellyn!"

Maegiaracha is quiet for quite sometime, but it is not long before a mild conversation is started with another nearby. Their voices are soft and charming like fluttering birds as they drift from topic to topic, all seemingly relating to occurrences and sights along the trip. A few scattered silent moments of thought are caught as interludes, but are never met with discomfort or anxiety. On their conversation throbs like a bubbling little brook, rising and falling over thoughts and enjoyment.

Unusual frankness is now Eryndae's manner in her address to Gilnaurien. She leans in with thoughtfully narrowed eyes, and addresses the Rochdur plainly and simply. "Am I to believe this as a result of days recently passed? No wine steward am I, but nor am I your keeper. Is there ought you would say on the matter?" Stern she remains, a nearly constant veil of this lady's manner, and yet kindness is to be found by any who search for it in her voice and eyes.

Gilnaurien flinches as if struck, and she nearly stumbles backwards. "Why would it not be? Many have been so kind to me here...and in turn I have managed time and again to break protocol, make an annoyance of myself!" The thin elleth is stammering. "I menat you no insult, but fool that I am...my mother always siad I was too impulsive for my age and station, and so far I have proved it in a grand manner!" Her eyes are like a wind-toessed ocean, wrapped in gray mist. "I am younger, you are elder...once I forgot that, but I shall not make the same error again!" She puases. "Not forgot it...said something I meant in one way but my phrasing was so poor it seemed to be something else." She stutters, mist pouring from her mouth. "And I am wiithout rank or statino hre...so is it not so that I am the servent of all here?" She is honestly confused, as well as frightened.

Pale lips twist as Eryndae lingers in thought momentarily considering Gilnaurien's words, then words of her own. "Servitude is not the way of the Eldar. In it is honor and respect, true, but offered to each and all, regardless of what you insist on as 'station'."

A moment's pause breathes past with the winter wind, and the elder vintner descends to sit on a rock, her eyes never leaving Gilnaurien's. "How would you proceed, were you to find a wounded sparrow?" she asks with simplicity of tone as well as inquiry.

Maegiaracha's conversation rides along as if upon the wind before suddenly stopping, for the one she talks to now helps many others as they all help to set up a quick camp for the night. It is not long before the beginnings of both tent and fire begin to show progress, and not long before it seems all have an eager hand to help in the camps creation. All the while a few soft songs touch the air amidst the rush of swaying branches. A smile seems to be lit upon most, and a helpful hand is always nearby.

Gilnaurien looks up in surprise, the line of questioning catching her off guard. "That actually happened once...not sparrow, but seagull..." Sh e murmurs. "Why, it would depend on the wund, for my skill in healing is limited to frist aid only. Catch it gently in my hands, and sing to it to soothe it, and when it lay still for me, I would look at the hurt and see if it was something I could treat myself. If it was, I would tend the hurt as best I knew, and keep it with me until it was well. If it was beyond my skill, I would take what measure I could to ease it, and take it to a healer at once." Her eyes are a bit misty, remmbering her seagull that she had found wounded and abandoned on the sands of mithlond...Thoronlos, but she pulls herself back to the present. "Why do you ask me this, my lady?"

A smile softens features that have been hardened by millennia untold, and Eryndae delves momentarily into her nearby pack to produce a pair of leather slippers. Handing them to Gilnaurien without a word as to why, the lady continues. "The sparrow's wound both warrants your help and earns your respect with neither word nor command. It demands naught of you, and you naught of it. Yet what you offer is of the kindness of your heart; neither fear nor obligation has any part in service, nor would I have it so for any mistake of yours. It is clear you regret all that was misspoken, as do I."

With the sun late in the day, Tiramen is much revealed as he crosses the bridge with a curious mien. A smile is offered to none at the nearby twitterings of birds and he comes to stand nearby Vanilor to watch the coming of the rochonnath. There is a remembrance in his eyes as though he too was once in their place and feeling the warmth of home basking upon him with the return.

Glasiel sits comfortably nearby, settling her things at the base of a likely looking tree. She still keeps her eye on the Rochdur, watching to see that she doesn't over-stress her shoulder. A gentle tune is, as ever on her lips.

Gilnaurien looks curiously at the elder. "YOU regret?!" She inahles sharply. 'But the mistake was mine, notyours!" For the moent she ingnores the proffered slippers, so great is her confusion

Seeming to have stood still long enough, Tiramen's inner being calls himself to action. A sidelong nod by way of pleasantry is given to Vanilor as he approaches Eryndae with a smile. "Greetings to you Silmaethor. I trust all is well without?" He gives Gilnaurien a pleasant enough smile but his overall demeanor is calm and perhaps appealing for peace.

A flaxen eyebrow quirks prominently, Eryndae's mild wariness of Gilnaurien's mood still apparent therein, it would seem. "Perhaps, as you see it. Yet if my reaction led you to rush around barefoot in the very fact of winter, is it not clear that something must be done?" Sternness returns to the vintner's mood in overtones such that meaning is conveyed through the elleth's confusion. It is all but hidden, however fleetingly, as she regards Tiramen with a nod. "Well indeed, mellon. Will your company share our camp this eve? There is room enough, should it be necessary." Thus with a nod to the pair of Maethori in escort of the gatherers, the clusters of baskets and cloaks are cleared away to one side, allowing more room for the others.

Gilnaurien blushes furiuosly. "NO, no for that reason!" she cries, hastily siting down with a crash to undo the laces of her sandals. "This is..." she swallows, "All I have. I came alone,on foot, from Mithlond. I carried mostly food, for the journey I knew was long...I did not have room or physical strength to carry enough clothes for all seasons!" Blushing even more scarlet, she toesses away the sandels and slips her ffet inot the slippers...fur-lined and marvelously warm. "I thank you, my lady. You will have them back on our return...for I would be a burden on no one in Imladris. I will find or make what I ned, nad trouble no one..." She trails off, a bit frantic

Following at the tail-end of the Rochonnath, Ailiell looks down with surprise on the gathered group. Drawing her mare out of the line, she lifts a hand and her voice in greeting. "And what is all this, friends? Are we relocating Imladris?" A wry grin is shot towards Glasiel, as she casts back her hood. The healer looks rather travel-worn and altogether dusty enough to stop Harchdolas's heart, should she dare approach the Infirmary.

Tiramen regards Gilnarien quietly for a moment before bringing a finger to his lips and giving a calming gesture afterward. "There is no need to be distraught mellon Gilnaurien. I am quite certain that you are not a burden to any. Nor will they find it a burden to provide you with that which you have need. In fact I would do so myself were I skilled as a tailor. Made I these clothes?" He indicates his own well worn garments. Nay. And nor shall any other find you anything but a joy upon which to practice their craft." He smiles before answering Eryndae. "Nay. I shall not. Though I am always near for this is the valley and oft have my feet wandered the paths herein as you well know. But for the moment I shall enjoy thy company and you mine. Was the journey fruitfull?"

In the face of the elleth's clear discomfort, as well as the new arrivals to a camp only half set, Eryndae resigns herself to a finer point. "My concern is well beyond your feet, Thandir. You have much to learn, but I believe you more capable of it than you believe yourself, it would seem. In the meantime, worry not over needless acts of adulence, for it is not penance I ask of you... merely that you would have a care for yourself, and let the forgiven past fade undisturbed." A fleeting pat on the shoulder meets an audible sigh in close of her thoughts to Gilnaurien. Thus the Silmaethor rises to properly greet those of the Rochonnath. "We have just set out, Tiramen, even as you return, I presume? A short trip to the Ford is our errand, though we will not be long gone from the vale. What of your endeavors?" she inquires of Tiramen in return, argent eyes sweeping over to Ailiell as well with a faint smile of greeting.

Gilnaurien stands, her eyes revealing acute anxiety. "Eryndae shall have these back as soon as we return to the Valley. INside it, I will manage..somewho. Tiramen-mellon...I know not who to go to for what I need....and nor do I have much money to pay for such high-quality work as is found here. My only skill is truly in riding and blade-weiding..which will not exactly pay for what is needful. I can sing a little, but not wth skill enogu to offer inexchange for ine things!: She wriggles her toes, already reluctnt to return them, but knowing her duty as her mother taught her.

In fluid motion, graceful yet eager, the Olvaristdil rises and hurries over to the Arphedil to embrace her, no matter how travel-worn she appears. "Ailiell-mellon! Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo! I wished greatly to see you ere I left on my short journey, and here you are!" Gray-green eyes flash with excitement. "There is much to tell you, of things which transpired in your absence." She pauses, and then remembers to ask, "I hope your trip was successful?"

Laughing as she is pulled down from her horse, Ailiell steadies herself within the Olvaristdil's hug, though she hesitates to return it, and dirty the elleth before her own trip does it for her. "Aye, it was successful mellon," she answers without elaboration, pulling back to examine her friend's eager face. "What must you tell me that Arglin cannot? Surely the Pelista game was not -that- eventful?"

Gilnaurien turns her attention from Tiramen momentarily. "It is easeir for others to forgive me than it is for me to forgive myself. " She murmurs softly. "Lady, I am grateful, and now my only desire is to be useful, not out of penance, but because I like not to be idle and a freeloader." She explains quietlly, her attention neatly split between the edhel and the elleth, so she can respond to either as needed.

Tiramen waves a dismissive hand at the mentioning of monies. "I think you have us mistaken for Bree mellon. You will have no need of such nonsense here. Do what you are skilled at and enjoy and as you have already professed to refuse to burden, you shall live well here." Still he offers a kindly smile before turning a curious gaze to Eryndae and a light laughter. "I am thinking we have mispoke each other for I have thought you the one arriving. Nay indeed for I heard of activity at the bridge and came to look upon. The rochonnath return and you depart. But would you have me come with you then? He who has perhaps forsaken outworldly travels for love?" A warm smile comes to his face at the mentioning of his betrothed and yet he is not overly serious in his musings.

Gilnaurien smiles warmly, hten relizing she is beomcing an intrusion on a conversatino not meant for her ears, she bows low and heads back to work again on that fire. But as she turns to go, she adds a passing comment. "Tiramen, if you would come, I would like that, for then we might find some time to talk about our travels and where we have been." She offers a gentle smile, her eyes for the first time that day going back to their normal silver. Then she goes back to her rock pile, moving the heavy stones away from the healer Glasiel and her friend Ailiell...hoping that Glasiel will not notice that her left arm is again becoming clumsy. She pausies for a moment, hissing softly in pain and kneading her shoulder..trying to ease the ache, and then giving up. She stops, wondering if she dares approach her friends to ask to have it looked at. She eyes the two elleth and hopefully clears her throat in thier direction. "Ummmmmm...Glasiel-mellon....no, mind not, I see you are busy..."

Glasiel gazes long and happily into her friend's eyes. So many things to share, where to start? She seems ready to burst with news. "Pelista is the least of the excitement, for me, mellon." So many things she wishes to say, and yet, something seems to be holding her back. "I wish there were more time..."

And it is at this point that Gilnaurien is in fact noticed, and the Nethril's eyes narrow. "Gilnaurien!" This is spoken with the ring of authority, and some annoyance. "You must rest that shoulder, mellon. If you will not heed my counsel, I shall be forced to deem you unable to travel."

By the disappearance of the fine line to have furrowed her brow, Eryndae seems satisfied with Gilnaurien's response, enough to warrant a more amicable smile. "I shall hope as much for all of us, Gilnaurien, for there is much to be done before the frosts grow deeper in their chill. You can start by heeding Glasiel's advice in the healing of your wounds." Yet before her words can register in her own ears, the Thandir's wanderings lead her to the two Nethryl. Little does the Silmaethor worry further, rather turning her smile to Tiramen.

"If the import of our journey interests you, then doubt not your welcome in our company, Tiramen. If it is love to have kept you away thus far, let it be beech bark and berries to renew your wanderlust!" she chuckles lightly, jest marked by a wink as she begins to pull a tent from her canvas pack.

Gilnaurien draws herself up to her full height and her eyes flash a litte at the threat. But she comes over to her friend's side, ot offer herslef for examination. "I only do not want to be a freeloader, but be a useful part of this expedition!" she states bluntly. "Is that so wrong a thing to desire?"

Tiramen seems to smile at Eryndae's words and shakes his head. "And so I am caught. Shall I love the nature that is in me the more? Or the me that is nature? But yeah verily shall I join you upon your quest for that which is needed within the valley. If only to serve as onlooker and guide." His harmony is disrupted once more with the proclamations of Gilnaurien and he turns to her thusly perturbed. "Thandir Gilnaurien." He says firmly, perhaps forgetting he is no longer bearing force of title. "I respect your desire to prove your worth. But you will do it quietly or not at all. I will have no disservice brought about by your exclamations nor your rebuke of a healer's advice. I know your mind, now know ours. Speak softly and know that which we proclaim is with respect for your needs and that of others."

Glasiel turns slowly, almost regally. An injured elleth is /not/ in a position to argue with a Nethril, and Glasiel's posture, expression, and tone of voice make this /extremely/ clear. She takes a step closer, her own eyes flashing brightly in their ever-changing fashion, and she nods briefly at Tiramen before replying. "/If/ you truly wish to avoid being a burden, then you /will/ heed my counsel. For if you continue in this fashion, you will indeed become a burden by causing yourself more harm, which will then require the services of the healers. If it becomes necessary, we have ways of... immobilizing you. But I rather think you might prefer the cooperative route, mellon."

Shaking gray canvas briskly before her, Eryndae sets about even this, the smallest undertaking, with an air of purpose. Yet what requires focus does not necessarily warrant eyes, for practiced are the Miruvorthaer's hands in such tasks. Thus do her eyes remain with Tiramen, as do her spoken sentiments. "Need one love exclude the other? If so, I shall be forever doomed to the forests and fields," she chuckles, light and casual before Tiramen's address of Gilnaurien draws her focus back to prior matters. However, this time the lady opts to save her words.

Deciding that the best answer to such words is action, Gilnaurin unlaces her sandals and starts the making of a crude sling for her wounded arm, tieing one thong to her wrist and the other around her elbow, then using both hands to konw the thongs around her neck. Soo her arm rests comfortably at her waist, corrked at the elbow. Shw bows low. "Co-operation?" she asks her friend. "For now I cannot forget that I need to be careful of this arm and yet still have some use of it?"
"Oh, well-spoken," Ailiell notes softly, leaning against her mare. With a straight face she nods to Gilnaurien. "And not an idle threat. The..." Pausing, Ailiell's eyes widen. "Nethril? Glasiel, congratulations!" Realizing quite suddenly that it is not, perhaps, the best time to have spoken, she falls back onto topic. "I have practically the entire herb cabinet sampled in my saddlebags, Glasiel, if you need aught."

With that dealt with, Tiramen looks once more to Eryndae with a faint sigh. His smile returns slowly and he nods to the woman. "Indeed Eryndae. Indeed. Perhaps I shall join you on your journey after all. If you would but give me leave to return to gather my things for travel?" He gestures to the proximity of the valley proper. "Or do you travel far?"

Glasiel's eyes narrow slightly. "That is a step in the right direction, Gilnaurien. In the morning, I will check to see your progress. At /that/ time, I will decide whether or not you are able to proceed with this journey. Therefore, make good use of the intervening time to rest that shoulder. This is not an idle word, mellon. Trust that I will carry through if need be."

Thus, she turns back to Ailiell, dismissing Gilnaurien. Her smile flashes bright again, on lips and in eyes. "Aye, mellon. Nethril. As are Maegiaracha, and Firithael, and... yourself. Harchdolas released the results. My congratulations to you, dear mellon."

Ailiell releases a sound rather resembling a "Whee!" as she claps her arms around her friend once again, sending up a fine trail of dust. "Far better than a Pelista game, you were correct!" With a laugh, noting the dirt she has left on the herbmistress she adds, "Then I should certainly not track into the Infirmary to throw my arms about the Hirnethron. Just yet. Lest he change his mind."

Gilnaurien smiles thinly and adreses her friend. "Have no fear of me using this arm more tonight, Glasiel-mellon. I am going to go curl up by a fire with this thing in my lap and meditate. IN the morning, if I can find what I need, I will work a better sling for it. Now, good night, mellon...and whatever commands you giv eme, I shall oeby." Boweing low again, the young elleth holds her arm so it cannot move and goes out to the tent broght for her. She settles down beside the fire nearest to it, laying down on her back with her wounded arm laying comfortably across her belly. "See? This arm shall not move from here the rest of the night!" Ginlaurine calls to her friend, wating for a word of approval or further instruction before she truly settles in for the night.

Nimble fingers work swiftly with the leather lashings of the tent she assembles, until the frame is raised with the aid of a Tellenistron. While driving the tent stakes into the cold-hardened earth with the heel of her boots, Eryndae follows Tiramen's gesture, argent eyes searching the trees silhouetted against a sunset not to be long in coming. "We will clearly go no further tonight. But if one among the Rochonnath would lend you a steed, I see no reason why you could not rejoin camp in time. The darkness is not unfriendly yet. There is further to go before concerns of that nature trouble our minds. Will you try?"

Glasiel grins at Ailiell, pleased with the reaction her news has created. Her attention now on more pleasant matters, she does not make a reply to Gilnaurien's insistant queries. She has finished with that conversation for the evening. "I travel now in this group to search for some of our more elusive herbs, much needed in the infirmary, but when I return, I have more to share with you, mellon." Her eyes dance with some secret delight, but goes no further in explanation. Instead, she changes the subject. "I do sorely wish that I could be there, to see you greet Harchdolas..."

Ailiell laughs. "I have half a mind to plant a very dirty kiss on his cheek. And flee. If you will excuse me, I must take myself off for either a bath or an assault on the Infirmary. Preferably both." With a nod and a wave for the encampment, she swings herself lightly atop her mare, and with a whisper for the animal, crosses the bridge. "Namarie," she calls back. "May Manwe guard your steps!"

A little miffed at being ignored, Gilnaurein half-closes her eyes and wanders into a waking dream, that is the rest of her kind. She -does- mutter some angry words about being expected to co-operate, and trying to, and only recieving veiled threats in return, but those wrathful words fade inot a journeying song and then to silence, but even her half-closed eyes reveal she is not yet fully at peace...not with such a dark threat hanging over her.

Tiramen nods to Eryndae with a faint smile. "I should return ere you are asleep at this distance from the valley. And ne'er shall my steed tire upon the return for my haste." He gives a bow and turns slightly. "But then you know me and my wiles. I shall but return in haste."

"Very well then. We shall eagerly await your return after nightfall." Thus with an approving nod to Tiramen, and an assessing glance afforded to the state of camp, Eryndae drifts toward the periphery of the gathering. To Ailiell she offers a smile upon her departure, and then the Silmaethor sets out into the veil of nearby trees on a task unannounced.