LOCATION:

Market Square

Greater than any of the squares of the city, the Market Square nevertheless feels small amd constricted. Wagons, stands, tents, permanent and temporary shops, flimsy and solid structures crowd the square, making it look as a heap of rubbish at the first glance. But if you come to terms with it and reconcile yourself to the fact that getting out of the square will take a better part of an hour, you might as well look over the various goods being offered. Sweet fruits and dried meats, spices of the South and furs of the North, gold and silver, leather and iron - there is nothing you can't buy in Umbar the Golden.

Streets run off in four directions out of the market; an Inn could be seen to the southeast, northwest would lead you to the city centre, while northeast - to the Eastern Gate. Southwest, nothing of importance can be discerned from here.

Contents:
* Marazon Luinril, Uinendili
* Coach
* Torch Merchant

Obvious exits:
* Northwest leads to Phazanbatan: Armor and Weapon Shops.
* Southwest leads to Harbatan: Animal Pens.
* Southeast leads to Phazanbatan: Before the Inn.
* Northeast leads to Harbatan: Dye Quarter.

[Barzag:] It is a dismal and gloomy afternoon. The rain drips steadily on to the cobbles, persistent in its efforts to wash the streets clean of the last traces of the soot and ash that have been blowing round the city for weeks. At least there is no wind today - the spring gales seem to have ended, much to the relief of many.

The Market Square is half-empty in this weather. Stall-keepers huddle miserably under their awnings, and those few folk unlucky enough to have errands today hurry on their way, cloaks held tightly closed to keep out the damp. One figure, however, seems in no haste. Broad-shouldered and shorter than most, this man trudges slowly along, halting briefly to raise one brown-skinned hand to his mouth as he stifles a cough.

[Marazon:] Equally broad shouldered and taller than most, Marazon is sheltered under the small advance of a roof, waiting patiently for all this water to stop falling. And he watches the water forms pools where the pavement is uneven. Sigthing the figure of Barzag, he leaves his place suddenly "Hey you !" he calls, having no other name crossing his mind.

[Barzag:] The Hillman gives no sign of hearing - indeed perhaps he does not even realize that he is the one Marazon is talking to. He glances round at the Square in search of somewhere to shelter from the worst of the rain.

[Marazon:] "Mason !" Marazon shouts again and this time closes more off the deaf figure of the rhevain man. If his terms are unclear, his words near are loud enough, even if not laced with anger or impatience.

[Barzag:] At this Barzag raises his head to stare at the one who has shouted. Initial hostility at the man's loudness fades to be replaced by dawning recognition. "Who do you look for?" he asks in a much quieter voice, grimacing as the raindrops drip from his cloak, which is already soaked. "I am labourer only. If you seek a mason, there are many in the town..." He ends with a shrug.

[Marazon:] "Tis shorter to say than stone worker" Marazon replies with swiftness, as to brush away further question from the man and have answers to his. He looks his face a mere second, "No it's you I was looking for, "You seem to know a lot of people close to me... The lady Galenrien for instance..."

[Barzag:] Barzag nods, and the right side of his mouth curls up in a smile. "The lady Galen-ren, the healer ... She was kind to me once, she did give me this cloak." He touches the wet material carefully. "I will not forget that. And the one who learns from her - Gimilvel - is kind also ..." He breaks off to cough again, turning away from the Dunadan for a moment, before frowning thoughtfully, and adding with a hint of curiosity, "You know her well?"

[Marazon:] Marazon nods slowly, his eyes going from Barzag's twited lip to his cloak. "I see, yes she is a very kind woman" Marazon replies and strokes his chin pensively smiling, "Her name is Ga len rien" he says slowly, clipping each syllab so he can hear, Gimilphel seems not to hold such attention of him. "I know her rather well, it's a bit complicated to explain."

[Barzag:] "Ga-len- ren," Barzag repeats, mouth twisting, then shakes his head. "I cannot say that last sound, it is an odd one, but it in so many of your names - like Rozil-el also?"

[Marazon:] "It's a bit wet to have a lesson now anyway" Marazon says, hearing little improving int he way the sweet name of the healess is uttered. "And Roziliel is my sister" Marazon finished with an air that could mean many thing, love, worry and jealousy mainly.

[Barzag:] Barzag nods. "It is very wet," he says, though he makes no move to enter the doorway where Marazon shelters. Brows draw down in a slight frown of puzzlement at the Dunadan's manner. "I have a debt to the lady Rozil-el also," Barzag states now, "one not paid yet. I learn - did learn" he corrects himself, and his face twists for a moment, "to read. Inzil-gadin did give the lessons, but in Rozil-el's shop, and she left parchment and other material. So I want to pay her for this. When I did hear the lady Rozil-el was lost, I wished to help, did ask ..." He stops, perhaps aware that some things are best left unsaid, eventually coming up with, "some of the others I know, and you also I think? But it was not enough, so Inzilgadin said." He shrugs in an attempt at indifference, adding, "It does not matter now, anyway. I will pay some other way - by coin, maybe."

[Marazon:] "She is safe now" Marazon replies as the topic of his sister disparition is brought up. "Thanks you for the little help you gave us. See payment with Roziliel when she will be back in her shop" Marazon says and returns to the place he was sheltered from rain.

[Barzag:] Barzag nods. "I know the lady Rozil-el is safe - I did see Inzilgadin," - again the scowl - "only once since then, but she was with him. I do not think she did see me - and I could not give the money then, anyway. Maybe when this month is ended I will have more..." He gives a half-smile before adding in a lowered voice, "if another ship comes."

[Marazon:] How to catch Marazon's attention, with pretty maidens or ship ? the words draws him back, as he was about to leave like a magnet. "I thought you were dealing in stone work... not as docker ?"

[Barzag:] A look of surprise flits across Barzag's face. "Yes, I work for the mason Ur-ziran - that is what I was brought here to do. But sometimes at night I can work for coin, if I am needed - to clear warehouses or to unload ships." He clears his throat - his voice is becoming hoarser as he talks, and ends, "and I did once unload a boat that you did bring in, I think?" He seems a little uncertain about that, though, and perhaps he turns away as much to hide his confusion as to cough once more.

[Marazon:] "Perhaps" Marazon replies pensively, "I did bring many boat in, but I dont unload them." Marazon says with near despise for such work on a ship. But he scrutinize the man, curious now.

[Barzag:] Barzag nods. "You did watch, only, I remember that, and did wait until payment had been given. The weather was bad, much more than this," he gestures at the falling rain, then uses his raised hand to push his hair back from his face. The Hillman moves a little closer to the shelter of the doorway, then comments quietly, "I hope it is better when the moon is dark again."

[Marazon:] "I got paid ? But I dont get paid for my work by customers, I guides boat, not overlook goods my good man" Marazon chuckles and shakes his head "You must mistake me for someone else."

[Barzag:] Barzag's amber eyes observe Marazon shrewdly, and the Hillman takes note not only of appearance, but the easy laugh, the man's willingness to talk even to a common labourer ... "Maybe," he says eventually, the doubt in his tone unmistakeable. "If I do I am sorry." He stifles another cough, then adds with a worried frown, "Sometimes I get the words wrong, get them confused," he shrugs before ending, "I am sorry for that also. And now I must go. Maybe I will see you again, with Galen-ren - or if another ship comes in." And with that he is off, plodding through the rain, damp cloak clasped close about him.

Participants:

BARZAG

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.

His clothes are scruffy, nondescript: trousers of some dark material, fading in many places, and a tunic of brown cloth that was obviously of good quality when new but is now worn and threadbare. The sharp-eyed might notice some sort of mark on his upper right arm, half-hidden by the short sleeve of his tunic. 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.

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.