Oath-taking in the Golden Wood

---------------------------------------------------------------- +ELF TIME ----================== Eldarin Calendar ===================

IC time is: Mid Afternoon < About 3:55 PM>

IC day is: Orithil

IC date is: 15 Ethuil

Moon phase: Last Quarter

Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.

IC year is: Loa 21 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor

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RL time: Wed Oct 29 18:18:29 2008

=====================================================================Calendar help: +ELF TIME HELP Quenya version: +ELF TIME QUENYA-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is spring, with its fallen golden leaves and emerald grass trimming the edges of this field. Arrows arc like rays of light in the air, flashing in the sun. There are also those who wield swords and spears of wood, and the crack of blow and parry resounds throughout the training field.

Venturing towards the painted targets is Maglind, his longbow balanced in one hand. He stands quietly beside another archer, waiting for a target to be made available.

From the lawn below arrives a lithe figure, tall and sure-footed in her movements. The elleth, Veredhiel, has come seeking the renowned Marchwarden who is just a little further off on the field as she draws closer to him, her?raven hair catches the rays of Anor overhead and her light grey cloak flutters behind her. She inclines her head and carefully makes a fist with her right hand, placing it purposefully against her left shoulder, a salute fitting for the elf, Maglind, whom she now stands before.

It is not any sound she makes that causes the marchwarden to turn. All the same, he spins swiftly, startled Maglind returns the salute, and a quiet greeting follows after."Good afternoon," he murmurs, the gentle statement a mild question.

"Mae govannen," the maiden replies. Her deep eyes spot the other archer who is waiting next to the marchwarden and then adds, "I pray I am not interrupting?" She appears hesitant for a moment. "I was looking to join the Order, and I was adviced to seek you for it is known you have much experience in the service."

The archer in question returns to his longbow, making a pincushion of the painted target some distance away.

"I have some experience," Maglind admits with a small smile. He sets his longbow over his shoulder, the string gently humming as he plucks it absently. "The watch of the guard is tireless, and not easy. Do you know what you wish? What is your name?"

"I am Veredhiel, sir," she answers instinctively. "Yes, I understand the duties and hardships endured by every member of the guard. It is my heart's desire to aid them in their constant service to the Lord, Lady, and the Golden Wood."

"And we train here, as you have seen, to keep Lothlorien golden," Maglind comments. "Which weapon can you use? The spear? The bow?" Pale eyes search the elleth's, then turn aside. "Do you swear, Veredhiel, to give up your own safety for defense of the Wood, and, if it is demanded, your life? Think not lightly, then swear on this sword."

He reaches beneath his cloak, where the pommel of a longsword shines.

"I have wielded a longbow in training, but that is as far as my experience reaches for now." Veredhiel's grey eyes are grim as she looks up into the ellon's fair contenance. As he holds out the weapon she stretches out a determined hand and firmly places her palm onto the glimmering handle, lowering herself respectfully on one knee before the Marchwarden. "I, Veredhiel o nos Aderthad, give my oath that I will to protect the Golden Wood and to serve Lord and Lady and all that are charged to speak their words and desires. I swear to obey all orders given, even if the order means the sacrifice of my fea to the Halls of Mandos. I swear to honor the Lord and Lady in all actions and deeds, and will do so until released from my oath by death or command of the Lord or Lady."

With a wistful smile, the marchwarden stoops, fingers brushing the sword at the hilt. "And I, Maglind o Raavindonserke, will aid you in any way possible, through giving of orders, training, and protecting, if need be, in battle. For I, too, am bound by this oath. Rise now as a squire, elleth Veredhiel."

The elleth rises gently to her feet, her expression set and serious, aware of the new duties which have now been bestowed upon her.

Sheathing his sword, Maglind steps back, glancing around the training field. "I will request that you be given equipment. A longbow, armor ..."

A flicker of Anor's light strikes upon the entrance to the Training field, heralding the arrival of the Craftsmaster. As he sets foot upon the field,

Galharth pauses and shifts the neatly wrapped bundle of arrows, a quiver, a longbow, and armor. Alas, carrying the pieces individually is not always wise, and the studded leather helmet tumbles to the ground. "I told them they should have wrapped it in a single package...." The Tailor mutters impatiently as he again shifts his burden to stoop to pick up the dropped gear.

Rising up, he looks up and catches sight of Maglind. "Marchwarden! Where and who might I pass on this gear to? Is someone around that manages these things?" he calls out.

Veredhiel watches the new arrival as he reaches to pick up the dropped armor, but she remains silent---the question not being directed at her yet.

"The equipment is for her," Maglind says, motioning to the elleth. "A new squire," he adds, with a slight tone of pride. He bends to pick up the armor, holding it uncertainly.

Glancing to Veredhiel and then to Maglind, the Tailor smiles. "Perfect timing then," Galharth says as he offers forth what wasn't dropped. "These are the very best that the firstborn could ask for." He says as his burden is passed on. "Elven made for elven wear...." With that the Craftmaster chuckles. "Wear it in health.... and I am quite sincere with that. Please do stay in health."

Veredhiel steps forward and slender arms receive the equipment. "I thank you, good craftsmaster." Warm eyes flicker over to Galharth's face. "I will bear them well." She traces her fingers over the smooth wood of the bow it is obvious it has been carved with the utmost skill and percision.

The new squire turns back to Maglind, a small smile upon her lips. "Also I thank you," she inclines her head toward the ellon. "I will do my best to serve the Order. Perhaps we may train together someday in the near future."

"That is my hope," the marchwarden replies with a nod, and he steps away to the archery range, an arrow spun lightly in one hand.

Nodding his head, Galharth winks. "See that you do." Pausing a moment, the Tailor turns to Maglind. "If you have time later, I've developed a cloth for cloaks that might hold up better to your activities. Please do come see me."

With that he turns and departs from the training field.

Gazing after the retreating figures of Maglind and Galharth, Veredhiel stands for a moment on the grassy field, the sun dipping low near the horizon, its yellow light filtering through the branches of the mallorn leaves behind her.

Taking her newly issued gear, the elleth dons the leather armor and slings the bow and quiver over her shoulder. With a turn of the heel, she silently treads off into the deepening sunset, and like the waning sunlight, vanishes among the golden eaves of the silver trees.