[Barzag:] It is late evening, and the June sky overhead sparkles with myriad points of light, for tonight there is no moon to rival the stars. Yet even at this hour Umbar's Market square is not empty. Some of the stalls are still open, as vendors of food and wine present their wares for public consumption. Citizens of Umbar wander the square - well-to-do folk, mainly, fine clothes glimmering when the torchlight falls on them. On the outskirts of the square lurk others, content merely to look at the market and its activity.
[Adunalu:] And lurk Adunalu does, indeed on the outskirts of the square. He stands at the corner of one of the many buildings, at the opening of a small alley, his back to the market. It would appear as though he is speaking with someone, but his great width prevents one from seeing...
[Barzag:] And indeed, who is to notice a single conversation amongst the many taking place right now? By the wine-seller's stall, two men have just finished conversing; now one, a dark-haired fellow with grey eyes and a large beak-like nose, garbed in a robe of crimson, holds up a hand in farewell, before turning to stride through the square. Humming slightly under his breath, he appears to be greatly pleased with the world. His smug smile turns to a frown, however, as he finds his way blocked by a departing cart. Muttering under his breath, he sidesteps, now heading towards the small alley.
[Adunalu:] "I am not pleased," says Adunalu quietly to whoever it is he is speaking with, "I am not pleased at all." His deep baritone voice rumbles softly. His forehead wrinkles with displeasure, his bushy eyebrows jutting out. "You should be more careful in the future..." From deeper in the alley a voice speaks in repliance, but it is to quiet to be heard very well at all.
[Barzag:] The approaching richly-dressed Numenorean hears little, for the general background noise in the Square is such as to obscure the sound of individual conversations. However, he cannot help but see the hefty bulk of the merchant Adunalu. Coming to a halt - indeed, it would be hard to pass the stout merchant without being crushed - he clears his throat loudly.
[Adunalu:] The corpulent Dunadan turns about quickly for one of his weight, his hand on the hilt of a scimitar at his side. "What do you want?" he asks hurriedly of the other, peering at him disdainfully. As he moves, his companions are revealed: a pair of Rhevain. Not Gwathuirim of the Ered Nimrais, but tall, swarthy desert nomads of the Haradwaith. They stare at the stranger, backing away slowly.
[Barzag:] The other man looks startled, a hint of distaste spreading across his features as he spies the Haradrim, though this is quickly concealed. Thin lips curve in a forced smile. "Why, merely to pass you, my good fellow, merely to pass," he says quickly, eyes flicking to the broad merchant's scimitar and back. "You seem oddly nervous, my friend," he adds, one eyebrow raised in speculation as he awaits a reply.
Away at the other end of the alleyway, there is movement in the shadows - the place seems to be unaccountably popular as a thoroughfare this night.
[Adunalu:] Without speaking, Adunalu merely steps to the side of the alley, gesturing at the pair of Haradrim; they do the same. With a low grunt, he nods to the other Dunadan. "Go on." The merchant seems unaware of the movement in the alley, but the Rhevain are; one of them slips a curved dagger from his horsehair belt and stares balefully into the darkness.
[Barzag:] "Of course, of course," the richly dressed fellow replies, beginning to step gingerly past merchant and companions. Then something catches his eye - the glint of light from something metal. He stops dead, hand reaching immediately towards his own belt. "What is this?" he demands, glancing first at Adunalu then at the armed desert tribesman. Fumbling his own dagger out, he begins to back slowly away, trembling visibly as he draws breath, presumably in preparation for a shout of some kind.
[Adunalu:] "Hm?" mutters Adunalu, seeing only the other Dunadan draw a dagger. He reaches for his scimitar, drawing it quickly and holding it in front of him. "What do you think you are doing? If you wish to pass, do so!" The nomads, however, take no note of this; the one with the dagger begins to creep toward the shadows at the alley's end, the other keeping an eye on his fellow.
[Barzag:] The terrified Numenorean opens his mouth, but no sound comes at first. Then, seeing the weapon-wielding nomad moving away, a little courage seems to return to him. "I - I ... wh- what do you want?" he asks at last. "If it's money you're after, I- I can assure you that I have little in my purse. See for yourself if you wish... Ah, these are hard times." His voice, initially tremulous, smooths out as he regains confidence, becoming wheedling, persuasive.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the alley, there the patter of running feet, disappearing into the distance, followed by the sound of barking.
The Numenorean's head jerks up at the sound, though his white-knuckled grip on the dagger does not loosen just yet.
[Adunalu:] Adunalu frowns deeply. "Money? What do you take me for, a common thief?" He sheathes his blade, looking balefully at the other Dunadan. "I don't know what you're..." at this moment he catches sight of the Haradrim moving into the shadows, and calls out at them. "Taysir! Fakhush! Where are you going? Come back here, you dogs!" At this the two stop, and Taysir slips his dagger back into his belt. The two turn and begin moving back toward Adunalu, but keep a close watch over their shoulders. Adunalu turns back to the Dunadan. "I want nothing of you... this is a misunderstanding. Go on your way... and forget what you have seen and heard."
[Barzag:] The Numenorean relaxes visibly as the scimitar is lowered. "Then you don't ..." He shakes his head, gradually lowering his own dagger, arm still trembling a little as he sheaths it. "My apologies," he mumbles. "I saw yon dark fellow - your servant? - draw a weapon, and I feared the worst. Yet I see now that I was not their prey. I - " he stops, hesitates, then continues, "I hope we can forget all about this little misunderstanding. Come, let me buy you a drink in recompense." He holds out a hand to the portly Dunadan - clearly the thought that this man might have had reasons for doing his business in a darkened alley, and might not wish for company, has not even occurred to him.
[Adunalu:] "Servant?" repeats the burly man, chuckling softly. "No..." he says, "they are companions of mine. That is all you need know." He strokes his black beard, musing over something in his head. "A drink, you say? I haven't now the time... give me your name. I will seek you out on a later date to keep the appointment."
[Barzag:] The other man's eyes widen briefly in surprise at the stout merchant's comments. "Not servants?" He shakes his head, then murmurs, as much to himself as to Adunalu, "Well, each to his own, I suppose." A little more loudly, he says. "Ah yes, my name. I am Yozimru of House Azulayad. Perhaps you've heard of my family? We are renowned as traders throughout the coastlands - or were," he adds more dolefully, babbling in his relief that the man facing him has not slit his throat and run off with his possessions. "Things haven't been going quite so well recently." He sighs, then forces a smile and adds, "And what is your name? I should know to whom I owe this drink." His smile broadens slightly.
[Adunalu:] Standing tall and proud, the merchant crosses his arms and proclaims his identity: "I am Adunalu... Lord of House Aduni of Romenna, merchant extrordinaire, sailor, friend to Rhevain." He bows slightly to Yozimru. "I am... pleased... to meet you," says Adunalu.
[Barzag:] Some part of this proclamation clearly makes Yozimru a little nervous, and he swallows a few times. However, he recovers soon enough, managing a bow of his own, this one a little deeper. "And I am pleased to make /your/ acquaintance," he says in reply, stressing the word 'your' slightly. "A merchant and sailor? Why then, perhaps we can do business. Who knows?" The insincere-looking smile is back on his lips again, but his eyes are thoughtful. "But I mustn't detain you," he adds hastily, glancing nervously down the alleyway and then back towards the main Square.
[Adunalu:] "Hmph," snorts Adunalu. "No... you musn't... Taysir, Fakhush! Come." He steps backwards away from Yozimru, then turns and walks down the alley, followed by the two Haradrim, disappearing a moment later around a corner into the shadows.
[Barzag:] Yozimru watches the merchant's departure, glances again down the darkened alleyway, hesitates for a moment and then turns back to the Square, obviously unwilling to brave the shadows after his fright. "Adunalu," he repeats to himself. "House Aduni. Must remember that. Yes. Hmm, odd fellow he was ..." Thus preoccupied, he walks back across the Square to a better lit exit.
Participants:
ADUNALU
A tall man of Numenorean ancestry is this, somewhat different from most Dunedain. Though taller than the Rhevain of Middle-earth, he differs from the typical Numenorean in his impressive weight. Weighing over two-hundred pounds, this person is truly a big person.
This man's black hair curls atop his head, and two blue eyes peek out from beneath his bushy eyebrows, and a short beard sprouts from his chin. His clothing, like that of many Dunedain, is rich and beautiful, an embroidered black tunic and a belt of pure gold; his hands are covered in rings of gold and silver. On his feet are a pair of sandals, not as beautiful as the rest of his attire but still functional.
YOZIMRU
'Hawk-like' is an adjective that sometimes comes to mind when looking on Yozimru, merchant of Umbar. His hair is dark with just a few hints of grey at the temples, his skin pale. His lean face is dominated by a large beak-like nose; set above it are a pair of keen sea-grey eyes, whose sharp gaze misses little. He is of average height, but carries himself so haughtily that those meeting him are often fooled into thinking he is taller. He dresses in rich silks, favouring reds and golds; the sparkle of jewels can be seen woven into the material, and gleaming from buttons and buckles.