LOCATION:

Shopfront: The Scripted Page

One of the smaller shops of the district and situated at the end of the row of buildings, it is nonetheless a tidy and cheerful-looking establishment. A small carved wooden sign hangs above the walkway and shows an open book with a quill poised over one page. The door underneath the sign is painted a blue which rivals the depths of Umbar bay while the panes and shutters of the window front are painted a rich russet red.

Inside The Scripted Page

Inside the shop, all is ordered and neat and there is the faint-mingled scents of roses and cinnamon; apparently its source is a large herbal and floral wreath hanging over the main desk. All a writer might need or want can be found in the shop: writing instruments, inks of all colors, loose parchments of varying thicknesses, blotters, and bound blank books of parchment with either fabric or leather covers. Also, one might be able to order their pages bound into books through the store.

Obvious exits:

* Street leads to Summergate Square.

[Barzag:] The night is drawing on, and the autumn sun has long since disappeared behind Umbar's high western walls. Inside the small shop known as the Scripted Page, a lantern has already been lit, and its flickering light casts shifting shadows round the walls, illuminating the neatly ordered shelves, the stacks of parchment ... and the room's occupants. The labourer Barzag stands on the threshold, glancing round this strange place with an odd mix of hope and trepidation.

[Inzilgadin:] From inside the shop, one can see the crowd that has packed the square outside is thinning, but that still a considerable number of folk go about late business. From that swirl, a tall grey-eyed Numenorean emerges, his cloak clutched about him and he joins the laborer at the blue door of the writing shop. He smiles and says, "Good evening, Master Barzag. My lady Roziliel said she would be at her residence this evening, but that we were free to go on with our project. Shall we enter?"

[Barzag:] The Hillman turns, startled - and relaxes on seeing who has addressed him. "A good evening," he replies in turn, answering the second part of Inzilgadin's speech with a wordless nod, and gesturing for the Numenorean to precede him.

[Inzilgadin:] On the nod, Inzil strides on into the shop, greeting the girl behind a counter keeping custom for the proprietress in her absence. The girl nods a greeting and he moves over to a largish table on one corner of which is stacked a short sheaf of papers. Near that an inkbowl is filled with nibs piled beside a number of quills. "Ahh, she has prepared all for us." He glances again at the girl, who smiles and says, "Aye, m'lord. My lady told me to expect two men such as yourselves. I am Gwindelin, if it please your lordship." With a brief and shallow, but graceful curtsey, she sets about some minor housekeeping task, leaving them to their intentions.

[Barzag:] Barzag clears his throat as the odd scents of cinnamon and roses assail him. "I am here to learn, as we did agree," he states, trying to ignore the presence of the serving girl and noting the papers and quills. "But you have not given the cost. Maybe this should be .. made right?" His glance at Inzilgadin is questioning.

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin turns as he reaches the table and seeing Barzag still standing in the doorway, tilts his head in curiosity until the Hillman makes clear his concern. The diplomat smiles and waves him in, "It will be made right, my friend. Say a silver penny for the week's lessons, shall we? If you wish, perhaps some small token made in your craft would easily suffice as well, and probably do for much more than a week's labors. Do come in, it's getting cold out there!"

[Barzag:] At Inzilgadin's reply, much of Barzag's tension seems to dissipate - clearly he had feared that the price of learning would be far higher than he could afford. "Yes, I can pay this," he answers, one corner of his mouth lifting in relief. Stepping in, he carefully closes the door behind him. The sheaf of parchments flutters, but does not scatter. Stepping towards the laden table, the Hillman asks his tutor, "Where - how - must I start?" There is a cautious eagerness in his tone.

[Inzilgadin:] While the Hillman enters, Inzil steps behind the table and sidles to the middle, standing before a chair. He splays fingers on the table as the man approaches and, gesturing with his open right hand to the empty chair at his right, smiles. "Well, first we should sit and then I should find out a bit to learn where we must start."

[Barzag:] Barzag shrugs, draws up the other chair, looking oddly uncomfortable in such a setting. "What things must you know?" he wonders aloud, a slight frown of worry creasin his brow once more. What if he is found lacking ...?

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin seats himself smoothly and half-turns so that he faces his student almost directly. "Well, a few quick questions and we will know where we are."

[Inzilgadin:] "Know you any letters or script at all?"

[Barzag:] The Hillman frowns, shakes his head, dark locks falling forward so that he must brush them out of his eyes. "Letters? I - " He glances around, sees some prewritten stacks of parchment on one of the shelves. "These are letters, yes?"

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin glances at the indicated leaves and pulls one down. Scanning it quickly, he nods sharply to himself and then turns around to spread it before them. "Aye, these are letters." Smoothing the page on the table he turns again to the Hillman. "Now, you see that these are graceful, looping figures, yes? Yes. This is called the Feanorian script. It is what is used for paper. If you were to go about carving an..inscription for a statue for example you would use a different alphabet, but we'll get to that once you're comfortable with writing on paper." He lectures onward for a few moments, explaining the idea of the alphabet while pulling one of the blank leaves towards him. Almost idly, he asks "Are you planning on writing on paper or will you be carving inscriptions?"

[Barzag:] Barzag frowns once more - so many questions! - before answering, "I wish - both. I wish to ..read.., you called it, first, but also later I may carve." He stares down at the parchment, where rows of curving lines are arranged apparently randomly - no, not randomly, for geometric patterns can clearly be seen. "Each picture," - he indicates one letter with a broad forefinger - "it is one word?", he wonders aloud.

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin blinks, somewhat surprised at the answer, but then shruge and answers the last question first. "Aye. The script would be much harder to read if those blanks weren't there. But we need to first understand the letters before we move on to words." He reaches for a quill and a nib, fitting the latter onto the former and checking its point. Taking a knife, he pares a bit of the nib, making it even sharper and then dips it into the inkbowl. "Here we go. I'll start writing the letters as we arrange them and we'll go over each letter as we go."

[Inzilgadin:] Arranging the letters in the classic six by five structure, Inzil calls off each letter's name and waits for Barz to repeat the name of the letter before going on to write the next one.

[Barzag:] Barzag listens for a few moments - and then shakes his head, puzzlement plain on his features. "I do not know these words," he admits at last, aware that Inzilgadin is waiting for something. "I am sorry." He sighs as he regards the first set of lines. A vertical bar mingles with a sweeping curl, not immediately obvious as representative of any object or concept ... "Say this one again?" he asks, golden-brown eyes pleading with the Numenorean for patience, brows still furrowed. "And what it means ..."

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin's eyes twinkle, but his brows remain unfurrowed. "Each of these little signs is not a word. They are what we call 'letters'. We use a word that includes it so we can remember it, but we build words with them. This one is "G" and all it means is the 'guh' sound. Do you understand?"

[Barzag:] Gradually Barzag's frown clears; the right corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile as comprehension dawns in his eyes. "I understand now," he quickly offers. "Sounds, not words. Say the sounds again - slow - so I can learn them." He gestures back at the parchment, not quite touching the page with its still-wet ink, listening intently.

[Inzilgadin:] Pulls the parchment a bit towards them so he can point to the letters. Here, the first row is 'tuh', 'puh', 'kuh', 'kwuh'. Repeat, please."

[Barzag:] Barzag obediently voices the four sounds, struggling a little with the unfamiliar 'kwuh'. He blinks as he peers at the page more closely, trying to spot what distinguishes adjacent sets of curves, before looking back up at Inzilgadin.

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin smiles, "Very good. You should practice that last one a bit, because it is used very often. Now. One thing to remember about those four is that the sound is very hard and definite. Notice that the first one requires you to touch the top of your mouth with your tongue, the seond requires you to purse your lips, the third makes you cup your tongue and the fourth to both cup your tongue and purse your lips. These are the four basic ways to form a letter in speech. Each of the letters in the column below the first one will also require you to touch the top of your mouth with your tongue." He pauses in his lecture for a moment, and then proceeds again. "If you glance over the whole list, you can see that it is basically taking a vertical stroke, adding a loop or maybe two loops, and then either extending the stroke above or below the loops. Do you see that?"

[Barzag:] The Hillman turns his head away for a moment, mouthing the letters silently to himself as the Numenorean delivers the lengthy explanation. His face is contorted in his effort to reproduce the man's instruction; after a moment he shrugs and gives up on the attempt. At Inzilgadin's final comment, Barzag nods and looks back at the parchment. "The little line," - he motions horizontally - "it is what makes 'tah' different from 'bah'?" Yes, I see now." The beginnings of a smile tug at his mouth as the unknown symbols resolve into something meaningful - though not necessarily memorable.

[Inzilgadin:] The diplomat nods, sympathetically. "It is a logical system, but it is not easy to learn." He chuckles, his eyes going a bit misty, "I spent many hours in school just sitting there, reciting the letters and writing them over and over again." The eyes go focused again and swivel to his student, "And that is probably what you could best do, also. Now, as to the difference you mention, 'tah' has a long upward stroke with only one loop. 'bah' has a long downward stroke with two loops. See?" He points to the 'tah' symbol, first in the lefthand column and then to the 'bah' symbol, second in the second column. You see 'bah' is related to 'pah', because you form your mouth the same way, but 'bah' is a softer sound. You don't have to use the muscles in your mouth so firmly to make that letter sound as you do for 'pah'."

[Barzag:] Barzag nods hastily, unwilling to confess that he is having trouble memorizing some of the different letters. Clearing his throat harshly, he eventually admits, "I find some sounds ... more hard. I try to say them as good ... no, as well? as I can. I am sorry." He stares down at the desk for a moment, before adding firmly, "But I will try. I thank you for your teaching." Looking at the page once more, he begins to softly recite, "'tah', 'pah', 'ka', 'gwa' ..."

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin checks off the hillman's tries and nods gently, then proceeds to go through the alphabet with him, pointing to each letter and making the sound it represents, waiting expectantly for his student to repeat it. As they finish that part of the exercise, he say, "I think we will have to stop for now. You should take this with you," he slides the parchment over to Barzag, "and when you get the odd moment, just practice saying the letters. Next time, we'll start putting letters into simple words, so you can see how that works." He cocks his head slightly and notes, "You might think about words you personally use a lot, and we can start with them."

[Barzag:] Barzag raises his head to look directly at his teacher. "I thank you," he says again, and there seems to be genuine gratitude in his eyes. "I try to remember these." He reaches out with one calloused hand towards the parchment, then stops. "But I must pay for your time now." He reaches down to his belt, fumbling at the folds of leather until he pulls forth a makeshift pouch. Finding at last what he is looking for, he holds a silver coin out to Inzilgadin, amber eyes regarding the man solemnly, mouth quirked up a little. It must be seldom that he is the giver rather than the recipient of such wealth.

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin smiles and accepts the coin. He regards it for a moment, quirking his head at the design on its obverse, then turning it over to see its other side. He nods and pockets the coin in his vest. "This will do for at least a few more lessons as well, my friend. Perhaps we might use this to purchase a late dinner?"

[Barzag:] Barzag regards the man in surprise at this suggestion. "I - I do not want to trouble you further," is his oblique reply. "I should go. And may I have another lesson ..." he tilts his head, amber eyes narrowing as he tallies up the days, "on this day in the next week? Maybe on this day in every week - although some days I must do other work."

[Inzilgadin:] Inzilgadin unconsciously pats the pocket of his vest with the coin and smiles, "That will do very well. We can meet on this evening each week. If you practice in your rest hours in between, I should think you could at least read public notices within a month or two. You'll see that it's quite a simple system." He rises from the table, looking over to the shop assistant and smiling, "Our thanks for your hospitality, Gwindelin. I do hope we have not driven custom away with our activity here."

[Barzag:] Barzag stands also, giving the silent Gwindelin a wordless nod as he tucks the chair back under the table and lifts the precious piece of parchment. With the quirk of his lips that is his version of a smile, the Hillman opens the door, gesturing for the Numenorean to precede him out of the little shop.

Participants:

BARZAG

At first glance this man appears a normal specimen of the Hill-Folk. He is tall for his kind, perhaps about six feet in height, and his shoulders are slightly hunched in the manner of one who spends much of the time looking downward. His skin is swarthy, weather-beaten from long days spent outdoors, his build rugged. From the man's slightly stooped posture, you deduce that he is used to carrying heavy loads. His feet are encased in crude leather moccasins, worn and scuffed. He wears trousers of some coarse greyish material, although it is hard to tell whether this is the cloth's original colour or the result of fading. Several tears in the material have been painstakingly if inexpertly mended. A mass of unruly dark hair hangs to just above his shoulders, loose strands brushing the top of his tunic; the soft brown cloth must have been of good quality when new, although now there are various marks on it and it is becoming threadbare in places.

Your gaze wanders upwards, towards this man's face - and halts, for therein lies the reason for the distrust and fear he inspires in many. His chin is hidden by a short, dark beard, carefully trimmed. But his upper lip, upon which only a few sparse bristles grow, is cloven in the manner of a beast, and twisted slightly so that his mouth appears to be set in a perpetual sneer. Above this, his nose is long and straight; amber eyes generally regard the observer coolly from beneath lowering black brows. Were it not for the wrongness of his mouth, he might even be considered handsome, but his disfigurement prevents this.

INZILGADIN

A tall man, somewhat slender with long arms and legs. He usually stands apparently easily, even seeming negligent, but that is betrayed simply by observing the wiry muscles.

He prefers to wear tan shirts, slightly bloused and tucked into dark brown trousers, sewn up the sides with leather thongs. The trou are tucked into black leather boots, which have stamped designs on them. Only the toes are unadorned. His trousers are girt with a black leather belt and over the shirt he wears a dark brown vest.