Lamedon Square Market

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Fea faced the doorway of her shop, lecturing the street children that had tried to slip past her notice, when she heard teeth snap together entirely too close to her backside.

She spun and grabbed a loaf, the long and crusty kind meant to dip in soup to soften it before one eats it, and hoisted it like a club until she saw the horrified expression on the stranger's face, and the well pleased chomping of the donkey. Her anger melted into a chuckle as the donkey flicked his tail at a fly, absently chawing away at one of the best buttery loafs.

"Ah, well, that one had a fly land on it earlier anyhow."

Ghalakrìd's face pinkened. "I... I will pay-"

Fea eyed the woman's shabby cart and its bruised apples. This late in market day, most folks had already bought all they needed, and all that was left to buy were the things the folks had the temerity and the coin to want. They'd not be wanting second-rate apples, to be sure. If the woman got any attention, it would be from the street rats Fea had just chased away from her own wares. It would never do.

The baker met the apple seller's eyes. "Well, of course it will need to be paid for, but I've an idea. I wanted to make some apple bread for tomorrow, but when I sent my boy off to find some fruit, he came back with good eatin' apples that I couldn't bear to cut and cook. Of course the rotten scoundrel knew that all along, so it meant he got a big sweet apple with his noon time meal, and it means I haven't got an apple to my name, and a long list of customers planning to stop by my stall on the morrow, hoping to buy a big spiced loaf loaded with fruit. Mayhap we could arrange an understanding between us?"

[Galadriel55]

Ghalakrìd turned sharply, feeing that something was not right, only to see the bread disappear in the donkey's mouth. Too late.

Did she hope the Gondorian won't notice? Did she hope that what the ignorant Mule did would pass quietly, unheeded? The beast meant no harm, she knew. But, intended or not, the harm was done. And Ghalakrìd was the one who had to fix it.

Whatever hopes she had, she would not run away or hide from anyone's anger. She faced the stand firmly as the woman inside held up a different loaf ready to smite the thief with it. Ghalakrìd was not surprised; there was very little these Western strangers - and strangers they were, although she was in their midst for over two decades - could do to surprise her by now. Neither was she dismayed when the woman lowered the bread and laughed lightly.

"Ah, well, that one had a fly land on it earlier anyhow."

"I..." Ghalakrìd began to explain, apologise, say all the truth, but she stopped herself in time. Her eyes became remote, sealed, as though they were two windows suddenly slammed shut. She will not go down so low as to beg that Gondorian woman, whatever the cause be. Her clothes may be torn. She may be hungry. But she will not beg. "I will pay."

The woman eyed her sharply but kindly, like a stern disapproving mother looks at a naughty child that scraped her knee while going on another adventure. This was not to Ghalakrìd's liking.

"Well, of course it will need to be paid for, but I've an idea. I wanted to make some apple bread for tomorrow, but when I sent my boy off to find some fruit, he came back with good eatin' apples that I couldn't bear to cut and cook. Of course the rotten scoundrel knew that all along, so it meant he got a big sweet apple with his noon time meal, and it means I haven't got an apple to my name, and a long list of customers planning to stop by my stall on the morrow, hoping to buy a big spiced loaf loaded with fruit. Mayhap we could arrange an understanding between us?"

An understanding? There could be an understanding between them, between Gondor and Rhûn. Just as much as there can be an understanding between the land and the sea, the Sun and the Moon, the day and the night. Those who have victory, and the enemy. Yet there is harmony between the day and the night, one replacing the other, both comming and going in an endless circle. And there is harmony between the land and the sea, one beginning where the other ends. Shall it always be so with Men? The Men of the East and all their deeds and hopes beginning only where the Men of the West are no more?

"An understanding? Yes, if by that you mean an exchange. You need the fruit, you say. Take what it costs to pay for the bread, and if you need more, I am not the one to take more coin than my things are worth," Ghalakrìd finally replied. Her tone was not kindly. She did not seek to befriend any Gondorian, much less a plump baker who was giving her an all-knowing look mixed with a form of pity. She did not need the pity others gave her. All she wanted...

...Did she know what exactly she wanted? She came to Gondor more than twenty years ago to find food and a means of living. There was famine in her homeland after the War. The King's army did not level the country to the ground, but with all the men gone - dead, or lost - there was very little hope for many families. Many mouths to feed and much work to do. Heavy work. And not nearly enough money. That is why she left. She couldn't stand living there a year longer. Just like now, she couldn't bear returning there. She did not know how her little town was faring. She did not want to know. Even if the famine was past years and years ago, she couldn't return.

So this is what I want. A place. A home.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"An understanding? Yes, if by that you mean an exchange. You need the fruit, you say. Take what it costs to pay for the bread, and if you need more, I am not the one to take more coin than my things are worth."

Fea raised an eyebrow, set down her loaf-weapon, and settled her hands on her round hips. "And I am not one to waste coin I've hard earned. Normally I would say a pound of apples for a loaf of bread this good, but the apples in your cart are looking bruised enough that once I cut them, I'll be tossing more than I'd like out to the hogs between the cores and the damaged bits."

If the woman wanted to be as stubborn as the donkey she came in with, she could do just that. After such a quiet day, Fea was spoiling for a good haggle.

When the donkey finished the loaf and began to eyeball another, Fea brandished the long loaf again and glared at it until it flicked its tail as if to say, I wasn't doin' nothin'. "I'll take two and a half dozen for the bread your beast stole, what with them being small, and what's to say they won't be bitter anyway?"

[Galadriel55]

"I'll take two and a half dozen for the bread your beast stole, what with them being small, and what's to say they won't be bitter anyway?"

Two and a half dozen! That is about a quarter of all that I have! Pushing down any indignant feelings, Ghalakrìd firmly resolved to stand by her earlier thoughts. She will not beg.

"They are not bitter. It is early for apples, but this bunch is good stuff," she said stiffy, looking straight into the baker's eyes. "And if you do not trust my word, you can try them for yourself before we make it a deal." Of course she does not trust such folk as I am. She is just like the other Gondorians. Ghalakrìd doubted that the woman would challenge her further, so she turned and bent over to reach the bucket. She pulled it closer with some effort before picking up four fruit and putting them on the shelf in front of the baker. "Where do you want them? Do you have a basket handy to put them in?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Where do you want them? Do you have a basket handy to put them in?"

Fea hid a smile. Well, at least this one was not the fool she might have been.

"Four!? That's barely a pound, as small as they are. If it was a plain loaf I might consider six, but a loaf like this? They tell me the Queen herself prefers my loaf above all other market breads, and you would ask me to take just four tiny apples in recompense?"

Just then, a chicken flailed its way through the air, causing a ruckus on its own. It was swiftly followed by a bony boy yelling for pardon with his arms in the air in front of him, trying to bat the fat bird back into captivity. The storm of feathers and dust covered a well dressed silver-haired man who stood paralyzed in disbelief.

Through it all, Fea grabbed a sheet and threw it over her wares to protect them from the filth.

With the chicken and the boy gone so swiftly, it would have felt like a dream except the man came over to Fea's booth. She pointedly ignored a feather in his hair and said, "I'll be right with you, sir. There is haggling afoot."

With that she waited for the newcomer's retort.

[Galadriel55]

"Four!? That's barely a pound, as small as they are. If it was a plain loaf I might consider six, but a loaf like this? They tell me the Queen herself prefers my loaf above all other market breads, and you would ask me to take just four tiny apples in recompense?" The woman was clearly angry about this, but her eyes twinkled somewhere deep inside.

Ghalakrìd was about to give her answer when she was interrupted by a commotion behind her. A hen, making a bid for freedom, was flapping its wings wildly trying to escape a boy who was wildly flapping his arms at the fugitive. When they were gone, everything was covered in feathers and dust. Everything, except for the breads and cakes that the woman timely covered with a cloth.

A man came over to the stand. The baker asked him to wait so that she and Ghalakrìd could decide on the price. "You mistook me," Ghalakrìd said calmly, "I do not think that your bread is worth that little to equal four of my apples. I am not one of those who triple the price of my wares. Yet I also do not think that it is worth thirty fruit. The Queen of Gondor may have a taste for your cakes, but that does not make the one this mule ate more precious. I say that a dozen or so will be enough to repay my debt. I will need a basket to put these in for now; I cannot hold twelve of them at once."

Meanwhile, the donkey, understanding that under the watch of two tough ladies he won't be able to grab another delicious loaf from the sill, turned to watch the strange man that came close. He was a curious man. The donkey didn't fathom why the ladies were making such a fuss out of nothing, and he didn't really care. But the man was intriguing him. His clothing was all funny. The donkey took a tentative step towards him - let the women argue! Then a few more steps. He almost touched the man with his muzzle when a sharp word from his mistress brought him up short and made him retreat, pushing the cart into its previous place.

[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."