[Estelyn Telcontar]

The atmosphere in the Great Hall of the palace was hardly different than that of a bazaar, and the cacophony of sounds and smells and sights was almost overpowering to Wyrma. Voices grew loud as they praised their wares and haggled over prices; samples of spicy wine, steaming coffee, juicy dates and figs were proffered; silks, wools, and linens were held out to be touched; the scent of spices was ever-present, a heady, pungent mixture; and a lively dance of colours and movements whirled about with an energy renewed by the cooler temperatures of the evening.

Wyrma found herself almost wishing that she could be outside under the bright stars of a desert night, feeling the exhilarating chill of the nocturnal air. She pushed those thoughts aside firmly, reminding herself that this was the price to be paid for city living, and concentrated instead on the faces of the people she passed.

Amidst the liveliness of temperamental southerners, the quiet stance of the two northern guests was conspicuously obvious. Wyrma looked at the captain and his companion with some curiosity, though her face remained impassive. Tall they stood before her, making her feel smaller than usual, despite the fact that she stood very upright, with chin lifted high. As she looked into the captain’s grey eyes, she recognized authority and a strong will beneath his calm demeanour. This was a man to be reckoned with, one who commanded respect even without a court of followers surrounding him. She felt a slight tug of regret; her people had no quarrel with the kingdom of Gondor, and this man would have been a valuable ally.

However, Gondor was far away, and Umbar was near; she must needs choose her connections to serve her own purposes. Interesting though it would be to find out more about the cities and lands of the north, she could not seek conversation with those whom Umbar considered foes. She fell back from Falasmir’s side briefly, motioning to her son. “Speak with the northern captain if you can, or with his first mate. Find out all you can about their cities and their people,” she whispered to him.

Happy to receive an assignment that coincided so well with his natural curiosity and gregariousness, Tinar pushed his way through the crowd. By the time he had reached the guests, the captain has disappeared, but his second-in-command was listening to the enthusiastic praise of a coffee tradesman. He waited politely until the man turned away with a look of seeking escape in his eyes. Tinar smiled his most infectious smile at him, and the northerner grinned back.

“Do you wish to buy coffee?” he asked, wondering who the youth might be. The richly ornamented clothing showed that he was obviously well-born, but he did not remember being introduced to him.

“No,” Tinar answered. “I am not a trader, but I am eager to speak to you and learn more about your home. Tell me, are there mountains there?”

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:15 PM January 22, 2004: Message edited by: Estelyn Telcontar ]