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.

Contents:
* Nildumar

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

It is another clear day, and the afternoon sun beats down on the pale stones of the King's Retreat, which seem to shimmer slightly in the heat. The building is certainly imposing - there is the glitter of gold from windows and doors draws the eye, as does the red carpet leading to the entrance way. Today that carpet has been shifted, however - where the carpet crosses the low, broad entrance stairway, one side has been lifted and rolled, to allow workmen to repair a cracked balustrade. A couple of labourers are there now, one inspecting the damage, the other working on a replacement.

[Nildumar:]

And here - walking a brisk pace - comes a Noble figure, young of appearance, but dignified enough of garb. The grey eyes of Nildumar calmly fall upon the work in progress, observing those men present as if to seek someone he might know. But such recognition remains foreign to his eyes, the man continuing his way, drawing inevitably close to the labourers.

When close enough words rise from the young Smith's lips, as he raises a hand in curt greeting, "Good afternoon... Still working on such a splendorous day? Aye, pray the beauty of the work surpasses the magnificence of the weather. But how does the work progress, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Nildumar's words draw the attention of both men. The labourer examining the balustrade looks nothing out of the ordinary - dark hair, grey eyes, skin slightly tanned from working out of doors. His companion is more unusual, however. He works stripped to the waist in this stifling heat, and the sweat-streaked skin thus exposed is much darker than that of a Numenorean. This is the Hillman labourer Barzag. The Hillman half-turns to regard Nildumar with amber eyes, revealing swarthy features dominated by a cloven lip. There is a faint frown on his brow as he listens to the other's rather flowery form of speech.

The first labourer also frowns, but for a different reason, for he replies, "The work goes well for the most part, my Lord. But I believe that more will need to be replaced than was originally thought." He shakes his head at this, sighs then instructs his companion, "Continue with your work. I will go to speak with Ūreziran." And with that he strides past Nildumar and is gone, leaving Barzag surveying the Numenorean rather uncertainly. "I am sorry if we disturb," the Hillman offers at last.

[Nildumar:]

"I am not a Lord..." Nildumar hastily brings forth, watching the worker who departs. But he turns as Barzag adresses him, a faint smile curving round the Isilrim's lips. "What would you disturb? I am a craftsman perhaps similar to you and your companion... which brings me to my name, Nildumar of House Isilrim, a Smith who desperately tries to surpass his father's skill, or at the least equal his skill."

The man's expression softens, as he attentively subjects the 'work' that still needs to be done. "Anything left which might benefit form the critical eye of a smith?"

Again at Nildumar's speech Barzag hesitates. The first words are met by a rather doubtful frown, which deepens as the rapid flow of words continues. However, the last question is simple enough to understand easily. "I do not know - I am a worker of stone, not of the hard me- not of steel," the Hillman corrects himself. His voice, heard more clearly now, is deep, accented yet still understandable, and with a slight nasal twang. Barzag turns his head, to look back at the Retreat in all its glory, then gestures towards the ornately wrought metalwork that winds along the base of each window-frame. "Maybe some of these - things - will need replaced? You should speak to Ūr-ziran about this." The right side of his mouth lifts slightly as he looks back at Nildumar.

[Nildumar:]

Attention claimed, slowly the young Noble turns to face Barzag, lending him a polite ear. "And who is this Ur-ziran you speak off, and where is he to be found?" Be it with intention or not, more slow the words leave now the man's lips, as he patiently folds his arms in front of his chest.

But this Smith appears driven by love for his work - which he may easily equal to art - thus again he turns, eyes roaming the metalwork the labourer spoke off. The glimmer is enough to lure Nildumar for a closer look.

"Ūr-ziran is Master Mason, the one who I work for," Barzag answers, looking up at Nildumar. "You will find him ... that way, I think. If he is not elsewhere - he does not watch the work here at all times." The Hillman gestures towards the back of the long building, then rubs an arm across his forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt there akin to the much larger one at the top of his right arm. Noticing the smith's glance towards the windows, Barzag suggests, "Maybe you can look now, if this interests you?" His own eyes go towards a waterskin tucked in an angle of the stairway to keep it as much in the shade as possible.

[Nildumar:]

"Then perhaps I will seek this Master Mason later..." Nildumar murmurs, eyes captivated by the metalworks which graces the windows, "Thank you kindly for your help, good man!" he adds then in a stronger voice, casting an amiable look and pleasant smile towards Barzag.

"And if I am allowed to take a closer look, then that would be most convenient..." Wary however the Smith subjects the other works to a keen eye, and pointing to them he wonders, "Yet can I go up to the balcony without disturbing the work you busied yourself with, moments ago? Surely I did not come to distract men from their labour, and tred with demanding feet upon the crafting of their hands..."

Barzag shrugs at the last remark. "You can go that way ..." He gestures towards the narrow strip of stairway still covered by carpet. A man could pick his way round easily enough. He turns his gaze back to Nildumar, and once again the right side of his mouth curls up slightly. "And you did not disturb. It is hot, to work here, and it is good to have some time to stop and rest." He absently wipes his hands on his worn trousers, and steps towards the waterskin. "And the heat causes thirst," he offers by way of explanation. He lifts the leathern skin, and there is the sound of water sloshing inside - it must still be part-full. "Do you wish some water, also?" the Hillman wonders aloud.

[Nildumar:]

Lifting a hand, Nildumar declines the offer with a gentle smile, "Nay, thank you for the offer, but I had my share of draught before I left the forge today. Even warmer in there..." chuckling softly the Smith shifts his attention again to the metalwork, carefully tredding the way up to the blacony.

"Enjoy your rest and pause I can say." the Isilrim continues, as he sets foot on the balcony, "For I know of what you speak in that matter. Often enough I make longer days then intended, only finding out too late the weary which holds me afterwads..."

Lowering himself by one of the windows, fingers graze over the frameworks, touching light, all guided by a knowing glance.

Barzag watches as the Numenorean makes his way across to the windows, then turns his attention to more immediate matters. Tilting the waterskin, he takes a few mouthfuls, closing his eyes as the precious liquid slides down his throat. Then he carefully pushes the stopper back and replaces the skin in its shaded corner, before moving back towards his dropped tools with an audible sigh. Hot or no, there is still much to be done this day ...

[Nildumar:]

With a pleased grin the Smith rises again, briefly observing Balrag as the man goes back to his work. Then the Isilrim moves from the balcony, back to the streets not far below. "Well... some of the frames could use some work, few dents and flaws marring the design and dulling the colours. But I will speak with the Master Mason of this... for perhaps he already asked another Smith to take care of this."

A friendly nod goes out to Barzag, and Nildumar raises his hand, "Again I thank you for the information, good man, perhaps we will be seeing each other soon... working to repair the same building... but we shall see, for now I wish you a good day and some cooling breeze to ease the burden of work."

Barzag nods to Nildumar in return. "My thanks," the Hillman answers. "And I wish you a good day also. Now ..." He kneels once more before the part-worked stone block he was dressing, and in a moment the rhythmic ring of hammer against chisel can be heard.

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.

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.

NILDUMAR

A tall -- stretching nigh 7 feet -- and grave man, with jet-black hair and hazy grey eyes -- reflection a swirling mist with depths unknown. A lean, warrior frame, his arched dark eyebrows crown his long-lashed eyes. His strong features do not diminish the youthful aura he has about him. Reserved looks and a veiled glimpse of respite mars little the beauty this face may hold, frozen in expression as if hiding a hidden torment.

Draping this man's shoulders and body is a fitted tabard of white, the hue of purest snow and silver hemmed, worn over a long sleeved shirt of light grey. A broad mantle of bright azure falls in full, plain save for one mark in the centre of the folds. Hands are gloved in smooth brown leather, and a medallion flows from a silver chain down his neck into his tunic. His legs are clad in trousers of a light grey, ending in travel-stained brown leather boots.

A sheathed sword is on his right hip, attached to the black leather belt he wears around his waist.