Lamedon Square Market

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I will need a basket to put these in for now; I cannot hold twelve of them at once."

Fea scooped a basket from under the back side of her table and deposited it without ceremony. "In that case, the basket is right here. Though I'll still be needing thirty apples, I'll pay for the rest in coin, or in trade if you'd prefer."

The gentleman's eyes moved back and forth from woman to woman as though he watched a throwing match between young men. Occasionally his eyes settled upon the brazen donkey, which eyed him with disdain.

Erchan ran from the kitchen into the street, a plume of smoke behind him. "Fea, I burned your loaves, please don't beat me!"

Fea thought for a moment she might just beat him for suggesting to a street full of people that she abused her help, but that seemed counterproductive, so she stopped him, turned him, and pushed him back into the smoky building, saying, "Get the loaves out and set to cooling. We'll cut off the burn, break the rest into pieces, douse them in egg, and rebake it all into cobblestone bread. Stop your panicking, you're worrying the folks around us."

Fea rolled her eyes at Erchan's retreating figure, clearly addressing the apple woman. "Boys. They make things easier and harder at the same time."

[Galadriel55]

Ghalakrìd couldn't help smiling inside when the baker agreed to the price she set. It was a fair price, but... well, she will allow herself to glee over nothing, just this time. And she won't show anything. She placed the apples into the basket and bent down to her own basket to reach for more.

At this moment a boy ran out of the booth, shouting "Fea, I burned your loaves, please don't beat me!" The woman turned to him to calm him down.

Ghalakrìd froze with the apples in her hands. Images unwanted came swirling into her mind. She was making a lavash-like food - a poor substitute for proper bread in times of hunger - when her neighbour ran into the house without knocking, and pleaded her to come help her. Ghalakrìd went, leaving her brother in charge of the oven. When she came back, her brother rushed to the door. "Ghallë, I burned your bread!" he shouted in geeting.

"Boys. They make things easier and harder at the same time." The woman's voice startled her out of her memmories. Ghalakrìd dropped the apples she was holding into the basket, not too carefully, and replied absent-mindedly, "Boys, yes. Help and trouble." She bent down for more.

The boy called that woman Fea. Ghalakrìd tried to remember what that meant in Elvish. She always had trouble with that language, so unlike her own. Aha! Found it: Spirit. Well, the name definitely suited it's bearer.

Then she remembered. She still did not give a price for eighteen more of the thirty apples. "For the fruit I will take two or three loaves of the simplest bread you have, depending on their size. If they are big enough - just two."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea inspected what was left on her table. It was well after the noon meal and she hated day old bread.

Well, that was not true. The truth was that she subscribed to her grandmother's philosophy on baked good. Excellent the first day, passable the second day, bird food after. She would eat her own bread the second day, or sell it at discount, but it was better to sell the whole day's bake and start fresh each morning.

Still on the table were some baskets of sweet rolls, the kind that tide you over between noon meal and supper. They would sell yet, and the few that did not would go home with Erchan as a treat for his family. He apprenticed to her and learned a trade. His family made do with his absence by a regular influx of bread.

Let us see- there were two loaves left of oat bread, dense and a bit sweet, dusted with flour so the tops were soft and white. Good and filling, but not much to them unless you had a wedge of cheese and a sausage alongside.

This one, cracked wheat and pine nuts. Good and hearty, but not simple. The woman asked for simple.

"I've a loaf of white and a loaf of brown that both go well with whatever you serve. Not too sweet, filling, and simple. A humble bread. Shall I wrap the loaves?"

[Galadriel55]

"I've a loaf of white and a loaf of brown that both go well with whatever you serve. Not too sweet, filling, and simple. A humble bread. Shall I wrap the loaves?"

"That would be a good thing. Thank you," Ghalakrìd replied. She finished counting out two and a half dozen apples and took the bread from Fea. "That is it, I suppose?" The woman nodded, turning to help the man who waited patiently all this time.

Ghalakrìd clicked her tongue - a signal for the donkey to move along. The beast followed her at a sullen walk. He didn't get another cake, not even an apple! "Hurry up, Horse!" the Mistress called. Horse? Horse? This was something unexpected, though not at all unpleasant. Maybe I should eat more bread next time, if she likes that! he thought, quickening his pace to a dignified trot.

Ghalakrìd led the way to an empty spot in the market. In a few minutes she positioned the cart in such a way that it would be seen better. She unbuckled the donkey to let him have some rest, but tied the end of his rope to the side of the wagon, so that he won't go about doing any more mischief. She then unwrapped two pieces of pottery - a jug and a bowl - from the cloths that covered them and kept them from developing cracks on every rut in the road. She put them on the visible spot, next to the apples. She had other pieces, but she did not want to put all out at the same time.

Seeing as there were few people around and she would not be able to get much attention with her wares, Ghalakrìd sat down on a rag beside her cart and took out a thin piece of wood and a small metal tool. She began whittling away at it. This was going to be a pennywhistle.

[piosenniel]

~*~ Moving this thread to Elvenhome ~*~

Today is 5/29/2015 - last post on this game was 08-11-2011.