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:
* 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.

It is a pleasant September morning, the bright sunshine interrupted every now and then by a wandering cloud pushed eastwards by the gentle breeze. The Market Square is busy at this hour, with shoppers pushing this way and that and hawkers selling their wares.

In such crowds, anyone who is not tall is at a disadvantage. One young girl, a wicker basket over her arm, stands on tiptoe as she tries to determine the best way forward, dropping back to her heels with a sigh and a shake of her dark head. She has clearly not managed to make a purchase yet, for the basket is still empty. Giving up on any attempt at directed motion for now, she lets the eddying movement of the crowd sweep her along, holding the basket before her to give her breathing space at least.

Dreathen trudles throws the crowd, letting his great girth open a path for himself between shoppers and theives alike. His face is rosy and pink, for the man is in his element. A merchant he is, and he looks of one as well, clothed in sky blue silk and a gold plated belt. His green eyes seem to chuckle at all he sees, his mouth always open in a friendly grin. The man is very jovial, or he is very good at putting on a superb charade. At any rate, he walks about the crowd with not much care, eyes glinting this way and that searching for something in which to invest his newest purse of gold. For a moment or two, something catches his eye and he watches not wear he goes, and abruptly bumbs into the young lady with the empty basket. "Oh, pardon me lass, I wasn't watching where me feet were takin me, I do beg thy pardon." With those words spoken, he gives a fleshy bow and tugs at the small cap on his head in respect.

The girl looks up in surprise, cheeks flushing pink, but recovers quickly enough to murmur, "Don't worry, sir, it's hard to watch your step in these crowds," and her mouth dimples briefly in a smile. "Oh, how I wish I were taller!" She stares at the people around her with wide green eyes as if she were trying to move them out of her path by sheer force of will.

Dreathen grins broadly, showing two rows of perfectly white teeth, polished to almost a mirror finish. His cheeks flap about like jelly as he seems to hope about with untold energy. With a chubby arm, he points at an empty stage platform some way off, "Well, sme height is helpful in these surroundings, yes. Why not we go there and you can see what you need? I will lead a path for oyu, people get out of the way for such a barg as meself, heheheheh" With that he leads on, chortling and giggling to the morning air.

Gimilphel flushes again, but responds quickly, "Why, thank you sir, that is very kind." She turns her face away to hide her smile at the man's last words. Indeed, the crowd seems to part ways for Dreathen's broad form. "You are shopping also?" she wonders aloud. "I was sent to the market for spices, mainly. Father's coming home on leave, and mother wanted to cook something special." In her excited anticipation, she does not seem to notice she's babbling to a complete stranger.

Dreathen looks not upon the girl as he waddles along, his silks rustling about his form in dubious mirth, but Gimilphel is obviously not ignored from the bobbing of his head and the giggles of affirmation. The man is odd and eccentric, but wouldn't hurt the hair an on orc's head. He calls out rather loudly after the maid is through, "Oh, you could say I was here to shop. I deal in unusual sculpture, some even from Numenor herself! Have you ever been there? Quite a nice place! Ahh the art!"

"No, I haven't, sir." Gimilphel's green eyes stare up at the merchant with candour. "Where is it? Perhaps we could come and visit it? I will have some time away from my studies over the next few weeks." She halts for a second to peer around, gauging how near the market stalls they are getting.

Dreathen reaches the steps onto the vacant public speaking stage and turns about with a jiggle of his great belly. A sparkle lights his eyes as he pictures the tall peak of Meneltarma and the golden halls of the Kings. His demeanor suggests a man who has beheld the most beautiful women in all of Arda and can do not but stand and boggle as Thingol once did, all those untold ages ago. Gimilphel's exuberance of youth strikes him out of his daydream, and he chortles as he looks down at her, "Here lass, now up here you can see the spice vendors. I believe they are yonder the horse traders, see? Good...." A think maw he thrusts into a pocket and removes a gold florin and a clear opal with orange and red streaks. These he hands to the girl, "Here you go, you should be able to get something nice for your father with the florin, and this stone comes from Numenor...And oh no, Numenor is the great land of Belegaer the great ocean far to the west. It takes even her swiftest ships almost a month to reach us here at Umbar. Oh you should see here!...." Here he trails into his daydream once more, one could almost discern the tall palaces and terraced gardens gracing Numenor's Star in his glazed eyes....

"Oh, I couldn't take these, sir." Gimilphel's face turns bright red at this statement, and she clasps both hands firmly on the handle of the basket. "And ..." she looks down, "I misunderstood your words. I thought you were talking about having a shop in Umbar - I really should listen." Her blush cannot get any deeper, but her voice fades in embarrassment. "I've hear of Numenor, of course, though I've never been there. I think father has distant cousins on the island somewhere. Maybe I'll visit it sometime when I'm older - though I don't like sea travel very much."

Dreathen grins widely at the girl, a generous look gracing his amble features. He makes a gesture with his arms as if to say he will have none of it, and he gently slips the coin and stone into the girl's basket, without letting anyone see him. "How you take those as a present, a pretty girl like you should have such a stone, they say that if you keep it under your pillow, then your true love will come to you in due time, you would like that wouldn't you? Maybe someone of the royalty would even notice you. I know if I were younger and less.....mammoth...then I would take an infatuation with you" He gives a little wink to her here and once again surrounds the crowd.

The compliment only seems to throw poor Gimilphel into confusion. "I don't think-" she begins in a slightly disapproving tone, then looks down at the basket and gives a tiny shrug. "Since I can't dissuade you, I will thank you for your kindness, sir. I should really be getting on..." Is there a hint of desperation in her voice? Still she asks a final question, "What is your name? One should never accept gifts from strangers, you know." Her green eyes sparkle as she looks back up at the plump merchant.

Dreathen bows as best he can to the maiden, "Ah, I am one they call Dreathan, and worry not fair maid, I have many errands in other parts of the city, and I doubt I will meet you again. I must go as well, business to attend you know. Well, have a nice life my child, I am sure your educations wil get you far if you stick too them"

"Dreathen." The girl repeats the name slowly. "And I'm Gimilphel - I'm apprenticed to the healers." She gives a small smile. "Thank you again, sir - and as to meeting, you never know." The flush is slowly fading from her cheeks. With a final bob of the head to Dreathen, she walks the final few yards towards the stall of a spice trader.