Lamedon Square Market

[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."

[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?"