LOCATION:

Umbar, New Town: King's Retreat(#2191RntJ)

Here, high upon the slopes of the Umbar Hill and nigh to the castle on the other side of the wall, the palace known as King's Retreat stands in all the splendour of its gold-and-blue colored halls. Built in a low one-story style, it is nevertheless so richly decorated and perfectly placed that it commands admiration without reaching a height of any note. The windows and the doors are inlaid with gold, red carpets stream outwards from the doors down a long set of low stairs that leads to the entrance. Calm and peace reigns in the area, even though no guard is visible.

King's Retreat is this palace called, built but a few ages ago, and every King of Numenor that visits his city stays at this flamboyant residence. Relying on the nearby castle for protection, it also enjoys the best view from the top of the hill - the flaming House of Light at Land's End to the West, the Garden Belt below, and all the amusements of New Town to the south.

Obvious exits:
* High Arches leads to Entrance Hall.
* East leads to Umbar, New Town: Summer Palaces.

The sun has not yet reached its zenith, and so the heat of the day is still bearable. A few puffy clouds float in the azure sky above, and it seems altogether a beautiful day. Outside the retreat, workers are already busy. Today the red carpet is back in place, repairs to the balustrade completed, and the low wall surrounding the garden is the focus of attention.

The Hillman labourer Barzag is one of the workers present, and sits carefully dressing the sculpted blocks that will sit atop the wall. The rhythmic ring of hammer against chisel can be heard, as strong muscles bunch and release in a graceful, almost dance-like motion. He seems completely absorbed by his task - the right side of his mouth is curled up slightly and he ignores the drops of sweat gathering on his bare back.

[Galenrien:] Female voices can be heard frombeyond the garden wall and they fast approach. Soft laughter and then as the sounds of the workmen - hammers and such - grow louder as they near, the voices stop. Soon the figures of tow women can be seen. One - dressed in silver with reddish lights in her hair - looks on curuiosuly. The other merely looks bored.

[Barzag:] One or two of the workmen hear the laughter and look up from their tasks, all too eager for a distraction. Barzag is not one of them, however. There is a brief pause as he regards the stone, then switches to a smaller chisel, a lighter hammer, shaping the edging with delicate taps now. His dark head is bent over his work, and there is a smudge of dirt across his right arm just below the shoulder.

[Galenrien:] The dark haired woman looks to the taller one and says something though it would likely be inaudible to any other in the vicinity.

The other lday, for she is finely dressed - shakes her head, but does not reply. She just turns back the way she came without a word. Galenrien moves closer, to see better perhaps. Yet her eyes are on one worker. The Hillman.

[Barzag:] Barzag continues the carefully controlled swings of the hammer until he has reached the edge of the block. Halting then, he turns to lift a wooden measuring square - and catches sight of Galenrien. Setting down the tool, he turns to face the healer, mouth still curled in that half-smile, and greets her with, "Good day, Lady Galenren." He keeps his body turned slightly, so that his left shoulder is towards her, the right one drawn back.

[Galenrien:] Galen smiles, delight apparent on her face, at the Hillman's greeting. Perhaps she did not expect so warm an expression. She glances back over her shoulder to the departing companinon, who is now several lengthes away. She nods thoughtfully and brings her gaze back to Barzag quickly. "Barzag. I see you have found work. Good work, it seems. You are prosperous indeed to work in the Princesses' Palace grounds. " A pause. "Do you have a moment to spare? I wish not to interupt you..." She lets that sentence hang, and glances to the few other workers that are near him, most of which are concealing poorly the fact that they are staring at the lady as she speaks to Barzag.

There is a flicker of surprise in Barzag's eyes as Galenrien speaks. "I-" he halts, looks round, then shrugs. "I should finish this block - Ur-ziran will expect this - but then I may halt for a time. Can you wait a little?" He indicates the part-shaped block, and his lips twitch as he sees his fellows eyeing Galenrien. The fact she chooses to speak to a mere Hillman will doubtless not go unremarked.

[Galenrien:] The healess purses her lips, but what she is thinking about is not clear. Likely tis not the fact that others stare, for the doings of others have never had a bearing on this one's actions. Yet it could be Barzag's words, or something other. Still after a few brief moments, she nods her head in answer to his question and says in a lower voice, assumedly so that it will carry less to thers ears, she says. "I surely can wait for a short while. As I say, I do not wish to cause ill." At this she glances again to the workers who gack, and looks each one in the eye - a silent challege - so that in turn as she looks, each drops his gaze back to his work. Her smile is satisfied as she brings her gaze back to Barzag. "Shal I wait here then?"

Barzag nods in gratitude. "Yes, I- I thank you." Turning away from the healer, he holds the wooden set against the block to check the angles, then with a dissatisfied shake of the head, picks up the smaller chisel once more. If he is conscious of Galenrien's presence behind him, he gives no sign - not so a few of the others. One fellow, who is building a new section of wall, keeps turning his head to glance at the beautiful red-haired woman, and the bricks are laid with less and less care. Eventually another man, likely his senior, comes over to reprimand him, to the accompaniment of sniggers from some of the other labourers.

After a time, Barzag sets down hammer and chisel again and rechecks his work, then lets out a sigh. Swivelling his head round towards Galenrien, he says, "I can stop now - for a little. I will finish it later."

[Galenrien:]

At the noises about her, the Healess takes no heed or seems to. She stands striaght with her chin tilted proudly. Her eyes are on Barzag and his work. It seems that she is genuinely curious about him and what he is doing, for her gaze leaves him rarely.

[Marazon:] Lightly clad as it is suitable to endure such a hot day coming, Marazon climbs quietly along the street leading to the top of Umbar hill where crowning in the glory of old and present is the king palace. And his gaze that otherwise would have slipped on the many workers fixing and rebuilding the luxuous building halts there on an auburn haired lady staring at one rhevain worker who looks familiar. "Morning" Marazon waves gaitly and steps among the masons and artisans to greet them both "Some odd place to meet, Galenrien, Barag."

Barzag wipes his hands on his dusty trousers, then looks up in surprise at the new arrival. "Good morning," he repeats civilly enough, though not adding a name. Still, the sailor looks to be in a good mood today. Turning back to Galenrien, he asks warily, "Do you still wish to speak to me? Or do you do .. other things now?"

[Galenrien:] Galen smiles at Marazon. "Good day, Marazon." She raises a brow, her gaze still on him. "Tis odd indeed." One might get the impression that those words could mean else than the simple affirmative that they appear to be. " What brings you here?" She inquires politely but looks startled at Barzag's statement and she turns her grey gaze on him. "Why would I not do as I said, Barzag?" She inquires gently, a mock chiding tone in her voice.

[Inzilgadin:] From the busy crowd pushing into and out of the great doors leading into the Retreat proper, a tall male figure emerges, coming to the edge of the landing at the top of the Staircase. He pauses there, surveying the activity in the courtyard below and is about to descend when he catches sight of the workman. He stops altogether and moves to one ballister, leaning against it and folding his arms. From his hip a leather bag depends, the tips of documents showing. His eyes reveal an uncertain mind, which should surely be unusual in an Numenorean, as this man clearly is, by his height, if not the clear grey gaze. That the workman seems to be gathering a group about him further causes the Numenorean pause, but, recognizing the mariner Marazon and noting the auburn-haired woman, he shrugs and begins to descend.

[Marazon:] Good mooded, excited even perhaps Marazon looks, a small stressed smile to the fiery haired healer but he speaks first to the masons, prompter to reply. "Long the time since you were working on the battlements, Barzag" the z added as perhaps the previous name wasnt sounding right. "Good to see you improving." he finishes.

A small tilt of his head and he looks the lady, still smiling, "Roziliel.. And you ?"

Barzag's brows furrow at Galenrien's question, though his mouth does lift slightly at Marazon's words. "Barzag, that is right," he says with a pleased nod. To Galenrien, he adds, "I did not mean to say you would not do what you said ..." he stops, laughs softly to himself and comments, "your tongue sounds so strange at times. But I did think you might wish to speak with Mara-zon now?" He shrugs. "No matter, I will come. It is best to move away a bit, and not disturb others here, I think." He stands, rotating stiff shoulders, then goes to find a cloth to wipe away the worst of the dust and sweat from his upper body, for in this heat none of the workmen bother with tunics.

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin reaches the bottom of the staircase, thus coming close enough to begin to hear some of the discussion. Hearing Barzag's last comment, the attache smiles quietly to himself. He threads through the crowd, approaching Marazon from behind. When about five paces away, he stops, letting the passing folk mill about him, as if a stone in a human sea, again hesitating about coming forward to join this conversation.

[Galenrien:] Galenrien nods to Barzag encouragingly but some thign in her expression is hesitant. Perhaps it is the growing attention that the group is seeming to attract from the workers and others alike, that makes her eyes cloud. Her expression changes quickly to a brighter one as she answers Marazon's question. "Of course. Roziliel." which of course is not an answer at all. Her glance goes to the doorway, as if alomst she expecte the scribe to come out of the doors and into the gorup at the mention of her name. And so her expression falls on the attache and lingers there thoughfully for a moment before turning back to Barzag.

[Marazon:] Mârazon steps back of one pace, still not yet in Inzilgadin's arms, so to see Galenrien and Barzag with a sole glance, even if perhaps more than often it sheers to the lady. "And your name is strange also" he replies to Barzag as he realizes his mistake, and adds to both "But no, later perhaps Galenrien, I planned to go to the Healing Houses after, but if you're here.. No need." he finishes with another smile reflecting his bright mood and the expression of the lady.

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin returns the woman's gaze blandly, his eyes quiet. As Marazon seems to be backing into him, he sidesteps and moves slightly forward, murmuring, "Careful, there, mariner.."

Barzag's lips twitch at Marazon's remark, and he gives a quick smile towards the two Dunedain before turning away again as he tosses the cloth down. Oddly, he seems to have left a smudge of dirt across the top of his right arm. Ignoring this, he picks up his tunic and shrugs into it in one quick movement, giving a tug to the sleeve. He steps back to Marazon and Galenrien just in time to hear Inzilgadin's remark, and his expression changes, lips pressing tightly together. He looks away for a moment, and when he turns back his expression is calm once more, though there is no hint of a smile on his face now.

[Marazon:] Marazon wheels a half quarter turn on himself "Good day Inzilgadin" he chuckles, vaguely startled by the attache voice. "I dont wonder why you are here yet Inzilgadin" he chuckles, good mooded indeed. "I will board after tomorrow for Pelargir, I wanted to warn you lady.. Perhaps we can speak of it later ? The ship will leave at noon" he adds.

[Inzilgadin:] "Good day to you, Marazon." The attache gives the workman no more than a glance. "I give you good wishes for fair winds, if depart you must." He begins to add something, then checks himself and changes what he was going to say. "This is the second time I find you three in conversation together. Perhaps you might introduce me to the lady this time? I was...altogether too abrupt for introduction the last time we all met."

[Galenrien:] Galenrien blinks rapidly and looks from Barzag to Marazaon to Inzilgadin in quick succession, her expression bemused. Yet her gaze wanders back to the Hillman. She seems about to speak, as she draws a breath - but a smudge of dirt on his arm catches her eye. For a moment she looks at it and then her gaze goes to the Hillman's face. Grey eyes flicker. "It seems that I have forgotten one last thing I must do, ere I leave the grounds, Barzag. Would you mind horribly if I come tomorrow at your break time so that we may speak? " Her tone is even and her eyes do not waver from his as she speaks.

As Marazon states his news, Galenrien blinks once more, but shakes her head. "I had no idea, Marazon. Safe journey.." She says, her expression still quite bemused, or even more so that before.

Barzag nods to Galenrien. "Yes, maybe it is better to do that ..." He looks from Marazon to Inzilgadin, then sighs. Clearly he resents the lack of privacy. "Or ... I can come to the Healing Houses, maybe? In two nights time? I do not depart, and can wait." Looking to Marazon, he adds with obvious sincerity, "I wish you good travel. I did travel by sea only the once, and it was .. not good."

[Marazon:] "I hope so" Marazon replies and glances quickly at the palace. "I was going to ask Roziliel to bring us the branch of Oiolare, may I duplicate this demand to you lady ?" Marazon says, understanding her bemused expression as one of good will. "It would be sure woe for us without. Oh but .." He halts and retreats further "I am sorry to hasten this, Inzilgadin attache of Umbar, the lady Galenrien Telumnizil, master healer"

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin bows slightly, "My compliments to you, lady healer. Pray do not let me detain any of you. I have business myself which can brook delay no more than can any of yours. Fare you all well." he smiles and with another smooth bow, moves off towards the New City.

[Galenrien:] As Barzag speaks to Marazon, Galenrien takes the opportunity to measure the attache Inzilgadin with her gaze. Frankly, as is her way, she regards him untill she begins speaking again. Only then, she looks to Barzag and nods. "Tis well, Barzag. In two night time, I will await you there."

At marazon request, her smooth borw furrows. "I can not at that time, Marazon. Yet I still may arrange it. I will do my best, still if I can not I will send someone in my stead - if I must." Her gaze lights once more on Inzilgadin as Marazon introduces them. She inclines her head to him politely, her eyes still measuring yet wary. "Tis a pleasure, Attache. Yet I beg your pardons...." She looks about. "....All, for I must go ere I will miss the lady I seek. Farewell." Her eyes light on Marazon and then Barzag. "I will see you both soon, if all goes well."

Barzag watches Inzilgadin go, and does not look at all disappointed. However, he gives Galenrien a lopsided smile of agreement. Looking to Marazon, he says, "I will not disturb you this time," his lips twitch and there is a glint of private amusement in his eye, "if the lady Galenren is busy I should return to work. Good day, and good journey." And with another tug at the sleeve of his tunic he starts to step away from the mariner.

[Marazon:] As swift to gather, as swift to scatter. And Marazon waves a merry hand to the lady leaving, offer a polite nod to the attache and slaps Barzag on the shoulder. "Good day to you all and thanks ..." he says and hurries himself inside the palace.

Participants:

BARZAG uHalmar

For many, their first impression of Barzag is of a person of little importance in the world. His swarthy skin proclaims him a foreigner to Umbar, one of the race of Men known as Hillmen. At about six feet in height, he is taller than most of his kind, and this is complemented by a strong build; his well-muscled frame and calloused hands show that he is no stranger to hard work. Indeed, his shoulders are slightly stooped as if from carrying heavy loads. A mass of dark hair hangs to just above shoulder level, shadowing his face, and he wears a short beard, usually kept neatly trimmed. It cannot, however, hide this man's main distinguishing feature - a malformed lip, cloven and twisted so that his mouth appears to be set in a perpetual sneer. Above this, his features are evenly balanced - a long, straight nose, and a pair of amber eyes set beneath dark brows, bitterness all too often visible within their depths.

He wears a tunic of dusty blue fabric, which appears to be in fairly good condition still. The sharp-eyed might notice some sort of mark on his upper right arm, although the short sleeve of his tunic has been pulled down as if to conceal this. His trousers are of a dark material, faded now in many places. On his feet are a pair of scuffed leather moccasins. And he has one more item of clothing - clearly a valued possession. A grey woolen cloak, old but still serviceable, protects his form in inclement weather, and is carried rolled up and slung across the back at other times.

GALENRIEN Teleminzil

A young woman of Numenor stands before you. She walks with the proud steps of her heritage. Although her form is lithe, and her movements graceful, she is not exceedingly tall. Her auburn hair is held back from her face by two braids woven to the nape of her neck. Woven here and there in the braids are silver threads, which seem to catch the light when she moves. Curls are always escaping, often causing her to brush them back from her face with deft fingers. If one looked closely, one would notice her large and expressive gray eyes have fine lines in the corners, which seem to suggest smiles and laughter, even if her expression is serious. Her lips are full and generous.

She wears a simple form-fitting dress of a silvery-blue silk, and on close inspection, one can see that the embroidery visible at her left shoulder and around her hem line is of blue flowers entwined with leaves on a vine. Pinned at her right shoulder, the emblem of the Healer's Guild can be seen. Around her neck is her only piece of jewelry, a gemstone of sea-blue, hanging on a silver chain that rests in the hollow of her throat. A small green satchel made of leather is hung from a strap, which is usually slung over her shoulder to hang down her back, or if her hands are busy, she ties it at her waist to keep it from getting in her way.

MARAZON Luinril

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.

INZILGADIN

A tall human, of highly noble birth but on first view of uncertain age. His light blue eyes are clear and a silver overtone makes them bright at all times, even when drawn close in anger. Dark hair frames an unlined face, drawn back into a silver thong thrust through a black leather catch to hang down between his shoulderblades in a single pony-tail. The face is well-marked, with a prominent, though somewhat sharp nose, echoed in a sharp chin. Upon a slim frame, his garb is tan, set off by a black leather belt and finished in black boots, well-shod.