LOCATION

Main Deck of the Adunabar

Measuring a full 80 feet by 20 wide is this strong and maneuverable war ship. Three slim masts rise to cradle the webbing for sable sails of the darkest hue. Above it all on the primary mast flies the crimson and black silk of a mythical dragon. Off of the stern flutters another kind of flag, one of amber gold with a small black ship overlaying a red hawk with wings just opening to take flight.

A pair of ready ballista sit upon the shrewdly crafted deck, cargo hatch just aft of center. In the other end there is a door leading down to the sleeping quarters and the dinning hall. Above in the rigging upon the forward and aft masts are archer's nests and look out points. A smaller deck rises at the stern with the door to the offices and Captain's quarters. The hull at deck level is plated with overlapping scales of steel, each one as wide as a man is tall and painted red. When she's under sail, sails like great black wings of a mythical dragon, she is fast and very maneuverable.

Obvious exits:

Overboard

It is late evening, and shreds of cloud scud across the sky, obscuring the stars and casting a thin veil over the cresent moon. The Adunabar continues on its way: wood and ropes creak, there is the noise of wind in the rigging and something else, just on the edge of hearing - the pounding of surf. Land cannot be far away now, and ere long the white tongue of Umbar's promontory will be within reach.

The decks are mainly quiet, save for those sailors going about their duties, but a few passengers are still out, taking the air, talking in quiet whispers or merely - as is one slender figure, dark head bent, shawl wrapped round her shoulders to keep out the evening chill - gazing out at the waves, which are one moment illuminated by the moon's sheen, the next returned to inky blackness.

The moonlight makes the foam at the bow of the tall ship ghostly white and Marazon watches the sea too, the sea and the rare figures of the passengers, perhaps pondering now would be the right instant to toss one or two bothering there, the thought make him smiles. And it is with this good mood he approaches one slender silhouette there, her height and dark hair could be the ones of any maid Marazon knew but he knows her "Evening Gimilphel.. I am ease to find you.. How do you fare ?" he asks, leaning his hand on the bulwark near and turning a gaze darker than usual at her.

The girl turns startled, eyes widening. "I -" she begins, and then relaxes as the moon clears the clouds for long enough that she can see who is speaking. "Good evening, Marazon," she replies with nary a blush, for the sailor is a familiar face to her now. "I am well, thank you. I just wanted some fresh air. And you ...? Will it be long until we reach land?" Her voice turns wistful at this query, despite the fact that her bouts of seasickness must be long gone by now.

"Dont you enjoy the realm of Ulmo" Marazon asks softly, plunging his gaze into hers, wondering to which he should compare her eyes, the emerald of earth or the green depths of ocean. "Soon, a little week, I cant be more precisen perhaps months if the wind lessens.. But it will not I think" he smiles and finally enquires "Your seasickness ? better ?"

Those green eyes widen once more as Gimilphel gives a small exclamation. "Months?" she queries in horror, then shakes her head, "Why, you're teasing me!" She manages a little smile at that, dimples coming at the corner of her mouth. "The seasickness is much better now," she informs Marazon. "Your sister's tea helped a lot, she's been very kind - but still, I never want to travel by sea again if I can help it!" This is said with all the vehemence of youth. She shrugs, and lowers her voice to add, "though that must seem odd to you."

"Of course, I am" Marazon chuckles and his cheeks are creased by the very same dimbles that appears on hers. "Yes it seems me odd, I couldnt imagine life differently than with sea.. But tell me, is it the sea or the sailors ? I wonder how one cant like this.." he says and his hand sweeps the the wave crested with a light foam, stark againt the dark waters. "And look up those stars, nowhere save on the mightest peak you can have such view.."

Gimilphel obediently looks up. The stars seem to twinkle and dance in the freshening breeze, appearing and disappearing as the capricious clouds continue on their way. The girl lowers her gaze to the sea, and then looks back at Marazon. "I wouldn't know about the mightiest peaks," she admits freely, "I've never lived anywhere but Umbar." She gives a small shake of her head, raising one hand to push her braid impatiently back over her shoulder as she answers the original question, "And no, it's not the sailors. I just don't like being at the sea's mercy - especially when I should be the one learning to cure all ills." The colour comes and goes in her face at that, despite her attempt to smile - obviously her sea-sickness embarrasses her greatly.

"It's what stargazing people say" Marazon confides and watches the jet locks of her hair conceal her hand a few second in their silkyness. "And now you saw Lindon.. And you will leive long in Umbar, you will travel again I think Gimilphel.." and he halts, aware the color of her cheeks is loosing its healthy pink, "Dont watch the sea come and go, it will but make you more sick.."

Gimilphel gives a small laugh at Marazon's words. "I will travel again, you say?" she queries, and now there is a twinkle in her eyes. "What are you, a prophet?" And she adds with a smile, "Well, I will certainly be glad to be on firm ground again, whatever you may claim." But at least this exchange of words has distracted her from thinking about the sea and its never-ceasing motion. Bearing in mind Marazon's instruction not to watch the waves, she looks at the sailor himself instead, his features alternately bleached by the moonlight and cast into impenetrable shadow. "What about you?" the girl queries curiously. "What will you do when this journey is over?"

"No seer I am Gimilphel, but a mere Uinendili, and it's a lot already to serve such lady" Marazon smiles and doesnt look the tide too, hoping to capture a bit of her attention to avoid her being sick. "I will be glad too, and there I will draw all the information we gathered to update our maps.. But soon I will miss Belegaer again.."

"You're not planning another voyage, then?" Gimilphel presses, one dark eyebrow raising in faint query, though she thinks she can guess the reason why Marazon would choose to stay on land a while.

"Perhaps, I dont know yet" he replies, pensive now, his eyes lost behind the gree haze of hers, far far... "The Guild could easily find me some new ship to sail regularly I suppose, and I would be in Umbar a few days every couple of month.. I'll do this I guess."

Gimilphel nods at this, head dipping so that the moonlight shines on the neat parting in her dark hair. "That's not very often," she ventures to add, just a hint of reproof in her voice, and when she raises her head her brows are drawn together in a slight frown. She shrugs and continues more briskly. "We'll be busy in the Healing Houses too. Galenrien's always in demand I doubt things have changed much in our absence ..." She trails off, perhaps thinking of the mountain of work that will await the famed healer and her apprentices.

"No not often, but I did this when I was younger, I think it will let me more time to think, far from any problems, be them my owns or my familys or other people." Marazon says, his gaze and voice steady. And a poor smile comes to his lips as the name of the master healer is evoked, "I know you will be busy, I dont think she will have any second left again and ever." he sighs.

Gimilphel notes the sigh, and there is genuine concern in her green eyes. "I'm sure she will have /some/ time left," the young girl offers in an attempt at consolation as she leans forward to awkwardly pat the man's hand. A gust of wind tugs at her shawl and she steps back as she wraps the errant garment more securely round her. "It's getting late," she notes, once more gazing at moon and stars.

The patting of her hand draws a small gasp of surprise of the sailor, used to a less bold Gimilphel. "I hope she will" he then smiles reassuringly "Thanks it's kind of you." he nods and looks up at the moon, slowly crusing among the stars he outshines toward dawn.

The girl is still watching the sky, but now raises one slim hand to stifle a yawn. Turning back to Marazon for a moment, she says, "I think I should get some sleep - and besides, I'm sure you've more important things to do than talk to a healer's apprentice." Her tone is light, though in truth she suspects he uses these long hours on watch to brood about the object of his affections. "Goodnight, Marazon." With that she steps away from the rail, and heads with quick steps back towards the hatch.

Participants:

GIMILPHEL

Before you is a young woman of Numenorean race. Green eyes sparkle in a heart-shaped face, framed by dark hair that is normally tied back in a long braid. Her skin is pale, save for the faint rosy flush of her cheeks, which deepens when she is embarrassed - a state of affairs wont to happen far more often than she would like. She wears a dress of deep blue material, whose soft folds hang loosely about her slender form. The design is plain save for delicate embroidery at neckline and hemline in threads of silvery white, shaped to represent stars. Her earnest expression and wide eyes lend her an air of youthful innocence.

MARAZON

Standing well his two rangas is the man before you. He isnt in his teens anymore and still his main features keeps an air of lasting youthHis dark hair is cut medium long, and is often in a mess, still the wind seems to have no hold on the steadiness of the light blue glance of the dunadan. He usually doesnt wear any beard and keep it shaven but at times, in fact often, a black veil covers his chin and cheek. His fair skin is lightly tan at least his face and hands which arent fragile at the first look. Flat cheek bones and a somewhat straight and thin nose marks his face. Despite his height and build, he carries himself with a certain nimbleness and a sure foot.

A shiny shirt of black silk, ample sleeved and broided with red and purple, tin thred of gold, silver and green are embroidered on his chest in branch of Oiolare, the evergreen tree of Numenor only Uinendili sport. Gold buckled leather tighten around his wraist. The shirt hangs very low on his knees and fashion leather boots mounts to mid calf. What is seen of his legs is covered by some tight material of sable. Clasped asymetrically on his right shoulder, a long cape of light red nearly pink, cutting and contrasting with the dark gear he wears underneath.