Weaver's Talan
Woven intricately about and throughout the branches of this tree, this talan of the weaver is. Overhead is but the canopy of blossoming branches, rays of sun jubilantly dancing through the openings, starlight also peering through in its own turn. Many a lantern hang overhead; ready to be lit when the light becomes too dim for the weaver to work. A pile of baskets dominates one corner; dusty, the majority unused, and apparently made many a year ago. A loom is set in front and to the side of the baskets, sometimes still, but many a time click-clacking away merrily. A wheel used for spinning wool and other raw material into thread stands proudly next to the loom, ahead of the baskets, but the feeling of overcrowding is not present in the least here.

On the opposite side of the talan is a large oblong table laden with many things, a small glass box in the far left corner, and a contraption holding several large bobbins of thread at the far right. Three pots, each smaller than the next, stand together on the table along one side; three gossipers who are only silent while the weaver works. The tallest holds many rolled-up scrolls, the one of medium height and build holding beads of shiny glass, the last and smallest of the trio holding needles and pins. Two mannequins stand next to the table, used to hold works-in-progress when needed.
Contents:
Galharth
Obvious exits:
Down leads to Hall of the Crafters.

The sights, scents, and smells, of early morning is strong, yet pleasant as Anor's light filters through the blossoming branches of the Weaver's Talan. Like most talans occupied by the Crafters guild the labors for the day had begun hours before, if they had ever really ended from the day before. Indeed, creative industry seem ever present within the halls of the Gwaith-I-Thein.

Within the Weavers Talan, a tall figure appears bent over a table, carefully rolling a bolt of shimmering golden fabric. As Galharth works, he hums a soft, yet lively tune that almost brings forth visions of a cheerful spring day.

Through the quiet of the early morn, Nauthcel makes his way through Caras Galdhon passing by the many mellyrn as he passes down the hill within the fortess. As he reaches the bottom, he nears the gate to the city, he turns and slowly strides, after asking for directions, towards the Hall of Crafters. A nod is given as he enters the building and espies all the wonderous works of the elves. Yet, he does not stop, proceeding to the Weaver's talan. As he enters he softly says, "Mae Govannen, Galharth. How does thee fare?"

Turning the bolt of fabric one final time, the Clothier smoothes a wrinkle from the last inches of the golden fabric. His actions show no awareness of the human entering the talan, and yet when Nauthcel speaks, the first born offers no reaction. Glancing towards the human, Galharth nods his head in greeting. "Well met, Nauthcel. I fare well this fine morning and hope the day finds you the same." Offering a smile, he takes a step towards the human. "Have you come to accept my offer in regards to your cloak?"

"I have for I do not foresee being able to receive such aid once I depart from this land," answers the Dunadan as he removes his cloak and holds it up. "Would it be easier to repair this one or have a new one made? The only thing I ask is that the brooch be kept for it is a family heirloom."

Pursing his lips slightly, the clothier crosses the talan to a stack of fabric bolts. "A cloak is not the most complicated of garments, so repairs would take the same as it would to create a new one." Galharth says with the firmness of confidence in his tone. "My recommendation would be that in favor of a new cloak. The fabric I have that most closely compares in appearance has the durability that would prevent the wear your current garment now suffers."

Squatting down, the ellon pulls a bolt of what appears to be homespun brown fabric. "Here..." he says as he runs a hand over the cloth. "Perfect."

Glancing towards the human, a brow rises with expectation. "The question goes back to you. What is your preference? New or repaired?"

The Constant's gaze passes between his current cloak and the fabric before he states, "I chose a new cloak if that if alright with you. Your skill with cloth, I am sure, is beyond that of my own kin who had made this fabric." There is a pause in the words until the Ranger asks, "What would you wish for in repayment for this task?"

The ellon's expression warms, and a smile appears in response to the Human's words. "Elven made is intended to last hundreds of years, so I think your choice is wise." Rising up, Galharth returns to the table with the fabric. The bolt is flipped twice, releasing some of the length of cloth required for the project, when Nauthcel's final words give him pause. "The last cloak I replaced for a human was done for the price of several stories. Stories which brought forth an interest in defending those who might be as sheltered as myself." Glancing over his shoulder the Clothier's gaze falls upon an elven longsword leaning nearly invisible within a dark and dusty corner of the talan. "I've a weapon, but little skill in using it," he states with honesty, "If you could perhaps give me some pointers in it's used, the price for the cloak would be considered settled."

"Then taught you shall be," replies the Ranger at the request. "I shall teach you what I can though I am still learning much of the swordman's art." A few steps are taken by Nauthcel as he approaches the fabric to examine it more closely. "Did you yourself craft this material?"

Shaking his head, Galharth releases four more turns of the bolt. "Nay, the creation of the fabric is within my skill, but it is better left to those who's interest and skills lie with the weavers. I am a tailor." Seemingly satisfied with the length of the cloth, the Clothier swiftly cuts the fabric with a sharp hand blade. "It's a different skill, one that takes an understanding of form, the blending of fabric, thread, and findings, to create something either worn or displayed as textile art."

Glancing towards the human, he nods towards the cloak. I won't need your old cloak. Your measurements are not too different than one of the first born. Your brooch will remain safely within your possession. As I make an item intended to preserve memories, I would not wish to ask you to part with something that holds the same for you.....though I admit, I am interested in any tales that might surround the object."

A slow nod is given to the answer from the Clothier before his gaze turns from the ellon to the brooch. After silence, filled by the faint rustling of fabric and the wakings of the larks and robins outside, Nauthcel begins, "Those of your kin who may have hailed from Lindor would recongnize the design that is upon it. Into battle it had been worn as an emblem of the loyalty of my ancestors to our Lord." As the main piece of metal is held up, light catches upon it causing the small gems to shimmer. "Seven diamonds have been inlaid into it representing seven stars...the standard of Elendil." For a moment the Dunadan goes silent before remarking, "You must not let others know, be he friend or foe, that I am from the Northern Kingdom. The few of us who remain may not last if news of this were to reach unfriendly ears."

Pausing his work, a smile of irony appears upon the ellons lips. "You seek to gain assurances of safety from one within a protected realm forgotten by most who travel Arda, my friend." Galharth points out in a soft voice. "Both our safety relies upon the silence of the other." Looking back to the fabric, the clothier continues his work. "I give my word of silence, Nauthcel, and I assure you, it is as commited as your own."

A moment more passes, and the ellon adds, "We can meet on the 'morrow, and I'll have your cloak completed. Perhaps then we can arrange a time where you can show me something about a Longsword."

"Such an arrangement shall work well and I thank you for your confidence. Yet, until them, I shall leave you in peace to do your work," says the Ranger as he turns towards the exit to the talan. Over his shoulder he adds, "and I am very greatful for the service that you provide me." Nauthcel then descends down the ladder into the main hall of the crafting guild.