[Marileangorifurnimaluim]

**** Harad/Umbar - Gramil ****

Gramil passed into the wide open-beamed dining hall. It was festooned with an opulent display of oil lanterns of fanciful design; here a dragon with a wick in its mouth, there a serpent, its tail aflame. Unusual, he thought.

Dozens of glittering guests murmured amongst the columns in twos and threes. False laughter rang out in that special dirge of a dreary party: the louder the laugh, the more dull the gathering.

This laugh was quite pronounced, and Gramil's shoulders sagged as he was led to his assigned seat.

He shook his head and smiled at its location. His hosts had outdone themselves. Jarl's place was as far to the other side of the room as could be, and there were two.. no, three pillars between.

But Jarl himself was nowhere to be seen. Gramil extracted himself from a round of pleasantries with his tablemates, nodding to Peral as he passed. Peral the Donkey was a man with eye to dwarven metals and a half decent wine to trade. Unfortunate for him that Dale received a finer wine of the Dorwinion variety. Peral was deep in conversation with Lady Ivrel the Gull, (whom Gramil had called the 'spider' as a child - but they were adults now so he only used that name in his mind). She gave Gramil a welcoming smile that didn't reach her eyes. Here their interests did not contradict. The lamps would have been her idea as she dealt in exotics, anything unique and unusual no matter how costly. She took breathtaking risks, which sometimes paid off. Of course she would be interested in anyone foreign. It was amazing Jarl had managed to slip her clutches so soon. She must be losing her touch, else Jarl was as slippery as an eel - which was the more likely. Gramil raised his glass in a silent toast to their expert and elusive guest, and snagged another glass from a passing tray - he had just glimpsed a familiar form through the archway to the garden. And Jarl had no wine at the moment.

Jarl dismissed Gramil with a glance, which Gramil expected. No doubt Jarl felt like the fish he was watching, with all this inept fishing, each guest forcing their own interests. Gramil shook his head. More important to know who you were dealing with first, and what they needed.

"So, did you ever find an oliphaunt more to your liking?" he asked as he settled on the edge of the pool, studying the fish that fascinated Jarl so.

**********

Up until that moment Ethar and his new found friend had had a famous time... but even as the words left his mouth Ethar knew he had made a bad mistake. Before he could blink, steel flashed in the Rhunian's hand, and he felt a scorching heat across his face. He hand came away from his face bloody. The second stroke arced, but someone shoved him out of the way, catching the stroke on a dueling knife - it was foreign and oddly shaped. Worth a pretty penny, a stray irrelevant thought occurred to him.

*******

"So which do you think he is - ?" Gramil grinned as he asked Jarl. The Daleman had been surprised to learn Harad names translated to animals (they were not just being called for their family crest as a Daleman would naturally assume). Thus they entertained one another for nearly an hour guessing which animal each guest was named for. The current guest in question was wearing odd pointed shoes and had a slight stagger, though it was early in the party.

"I would say 'Loon' if it were polite, and you had them so far south." Jarl pondered, "Hm. 'Duck' perhaps?"

"Ah! Mallard it is. But you are guessing them too easily now. How is that?" Gramil rubbed his chin, amused and suspicious, but Jarl gave a cryptic smile behind his wine glass and wouldn't give away his secret.

An obsequious servant approached with a whisper.

"Please, come with me. There is an urgent message. They will not speak with any but you. There has been something.. of an, hm, accident."

[ October 02, 2002: Message edited by: Marileangorifurnimaluim ]