Minas Tirith Marketplace

[Lirimaer]

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Heading to Ivor's potential new workspace

Ivor had got about halfway there when his mother joined him, evidently having run after him from the smithy. He turned to her with a guilty look.

"I'm only borrowing the broom!" he said quickly.

"You silly boy," she scolded, climbing up onto the wagon to ride the rest of the way wherever he was going. "I do not care about brooms. Where are you going? Your father said you were moving out, or some such rubbish, and yet here you are!"

She peeped under the tarpaulin to see what he was taking. "Where are your clothes? Furniture? Have you thought about this at all?"

"Mama," Ivor said fondly. "I am not moving out - yet. I've just organised a workshop in the Marketplace and I want to finagle the layout, maybe sketch out how I want the furniture. Make sure it all fits and gives me the light I want."

"Well, I am coming with you!" his Mama announced. "You never did a lick of cleaning at home and you need me!"

"The White Tree lost another leaf with that lie, Mama," he reproved her, with a twinkle.

She laughed. "I'm coming anyway," she assured him. "I have to keep an eye on my stolen broom."

They arrived at the empty building and Ivor showed his mother around, and then while he got busy with a measuring stick, she got busy with the broom, and before the sundial had moved an hour, they were both surveying their handiwork, pleased.

"Thanks, Mama, you're the best," Ivor hugged her before she climbed back onto the wagon.

"Don't you forget it!" she warned, mock severely. "But seriously, Ivor. Don't stay here all night - I have lamb shanks cooking slow and they'll be ready by sunset, come on home."

"I'll see you later, Mama," he promised, and waved her off only briefly before turning back to his project.

Now he was alone, he began to lay out his tools. He had spent years making them from unwanted odds and ends, and now had a substantial set of refining, shaping and moulding tools at his disposal. It was now that he took out the book he had received from the bookbinders, and began to decorate the front cover with an embossed pattern. It took him the better part of the afternoon to be happy with it, but the next job would be harder and would take some time. He needed to make the small amount of mithril he had into silver leaf, and that would certainly be keeping him up tonight. The first job was creating a rectangle of metal able to be pounded flatter, and that would need a forge.

He moseyed along to the guild to ask if he might use their equipment, and happily for him, they had an opening. He put the little playing piece into the alloy cup to be smelted and put it into the furnace. While it was being blasted with heat, he found a tiny rectangular mould which would be perfect, and when everything was white hot, he took it out and poured the liquid mithril into the mould, where it cooled slowly into a perfect little quarter-ounce bar.

It was perhaps an hour before sunset when he began putting the bar through metal rollers, beginning the hard work of stretching the mithril out into a long strip, and it was nearing sundown when he finally stopped and put away his tools, heading home for a good meal. He would come back later, perhaps, he thought. The lack of people around during the night might make it less annoying, for the constant pounding of the next stage of his work was sure to arouse some anger. He would see how tired he was after dinner.

Not really trusting folk, he took both the book and the mithril with him as he left. The last thing he needed was thieves destroying his plans.

[Lirimaer]

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Ivor's new workspace

In the end, Ivor hadn't returned last night. He'd gone to bed early with his sketchbook, made some preliminary plans for the workshop and had a good night's sleep. In the morning, he was up with the lark, and up at his new workshop before the sun was over the horizon. The work he needed to do today would be long and arduous, but it was a testament to the quality of his work, he was sure. He arranged a pulley with a heavy weight attachment which was worked by a wheel action with a cam. The pulley would lift the heavy weight and then when the cam got to a cetain point, slam the weight down. It was going to be noisy work, for sure, so he'd fitted it with a deadening layer which muffled some of the sound.

He took the narrow strip of mithril from his bag, now over four foot in length, and cut four squares from one end. These he placed one on top of the other, encased and separated by small square leaves of fine tissue-thin paper, and began to pound them flatter. It took many hours of pounding for the four squares to grow marginally to fit the tissue paper he'd put them in. He would need to continue this for some time, it seemed. He'd never done the process before, only read about it in the ancient tomes in the library, but it was fascinating to try it out for himself. It might take a week at this rate of growth, but it would be worth it.

In any case, he had to get to work. He would come back this afternoon to work on his project some more.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Nell, Veo and also Alan
Nell's Bread and Pastries

A small smile on her lips, Pele observed the interactions between Nell and the little boy; it definitely seemed that Alan had a healthy measure of self-confidence and pride. She wondered whether his mum would be willing for the boy to work somewhere and perhaps add to the income of the family. At any rate he already seemed quite serious for his young age.

The business more or less completed, Nell then returned with tea and some delicious stuff stacked on the tray.

"This all looks so very delicious," Pele said appreciatively, helping herself to a generous amount of honey and a pinch of cinnamon for the tea. It almost felt as if she had never tasted such treats before; though certainly it had been a long time. Stirring the tea to melt the honey, she looked thoughtfully at the cup, before shrugging her shoulders and looking back at Nell.

"I don't know about exciting and new though," she said eventually. "Except for enjoying simple things like sitting down with you and feasting on a little bit of something sweet. Ah, and I might return to my duties sooner rather than later." Pele looked questioningly at Veo, "Perhaps Veo has more interesting news?"

[Lirimaer]

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Ivor's new workspace

It took the better part of a week to get the mithril thinner than the tissue paper he was pounding it in. He spent so much time in his workshop his Mama has taken to coming up with meals for him, shaking her head at his stubborn obstinacy in refusing to come home, but he was conscious of time. The Queen's handmaiden wouldn't wait around forever, and if there were more tasks to be done, he would need to organise himself. He had never liked to leave a job unfinished, so this past week was punctuated by his singular concern for his project. However, he could now complete it, because he'd finally made mithril leaf, something the tomes said was nigh impossible for non-Dwarves. Maybe he had some Dwarven ancestry in the mix, he laughed to himself, but it wasn't something that occupied his mind. He was totally focussed on the beautiful gilding he was about to do.

The book he placed down on the makeshift workbench, dusting the debossed pattern he had made with a new brush made of fine badgerhair. With another fine-tipped paintbrush, he painted into the pattern a light layer of sticky sap before using a fluffy, naturally wool-like plant fibre to pick up the leaf and put it down over his design. Once the whole design was covered with the silvery leaf, he began to work it into the leather, delicately collecting every bit of the leaf that was unused into a small wooden box which he had repurposed just for this. It took him all afternoon, working diligently to decorate the cover for the King, to be sure that it would be something he would value and that his Queen would appreciate giving to him.

It was therefore a delight when he could finally say it was complete. He was extremely happy with it, and pleased with the work he'd put into it. He wrapped it again in the muslin cloth and placed it in a wooden box for safekeeping while it was in transit. He then set about cleaning his tools and tidying up the workspace. He would need to come back and prepare his workshop for storage, working and potential customers, and that was likely to be no small job. He hadn't even decided on a name for the place yet, though he had decided it wasn't going to be a silly pun using his name.

He locked up, and began the journey up to the seventh circle.

[Winddancer]

Myrtle's - the tailor

Gellir stood outside the tailor's for a long moment, eyeing the front of the shop and appreciating the order and cleanliness of the shop window. It was completely the opposite of his mother's grocery shop that often looked like the shop had exploded. But despite his many attempts at tiding his mother's shop up and making everything orderly, it was always ruined the moment they got more produce in. So now he mostly hid out back where he could keep things in order in the books. Everything was meticulously written in his beloved log book and no one else was allowed to write in it. Not that anyone was keen to do so, neither his mother or his father liked doing the numbers and gladly gave Gellir the responsibility as soon as he proved his capability even though he was only twelve.

'One day' he thought 'I will have my own shop like this, where everything is neat and tidy and where I can do everyone's accounts'. He smiled to himself as he pictured the storefront, with a neat sign with his name one it and a large bay window that would allow for customers to see in, but also for him to look out while working with his accounts. He had never told his parent's about his dream, as they both assumed he would be taking over the grocery store one day. His lip curled at the thought, shaking his head and allowing for his neatly combed blonde hair to become ever so slightly messy, which he immediately straighted back into place.

Straightning his shirt and tucking it in to his shorts for the third time since arriving, Gellir finally pushed the door open and shyly peeked inside. Stepping through the door, he coughed and looked around for the tailor. "Hello?"

[Isolde Alarion]

Nell with Pele, Veo
Nell's Bread and Pastries
Master Baker

Nell gently took her seat, smiling at Pele compliment. She added honey and a pinch of cinnamon to her tea and lightly started to stir it as Pele spoke. She took a sip of tea and enjoyed the flavor of the mixture as it passed over her palete. Nothing could beat Veowyns cinnamon. Pele was right, there was something about enjoying the quiet, simple times with loved ones.

"She paused raising her cup to her lips for a moment. " If you feel your ready Pele." she offered before she too looked at Veo.

[Lirimaer]

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Ivor's new workspace

Ivor had cleared the place over the last couple of days and now it was just a shell. A clean shell, but a shell nonetheless.

It consisted of three rooms; a large main room (40' x 30') with a large stone-built fireplace at the back of it, and two side rooms off to the left (both 18' x 15'). He could decide later how he wanted to have his own forge, since the structure would support it, but his first consideration was for the workspace.

In the main room, he would need a tall, heavy duty workbench along the entire forty feet of the right hand wall, with tiered shelving above it for his tools, some of which would need to be custom-made to fit all the tools he needed. He was quite looking forward to organising his tools into sections for different tasks, and was hopeful the carpenter could design something functional and beautiful.

He also wanted a long seating bench or two to frame the fireplace, a couple of working stools, and a couple of racks to cover the left side walls between the doors. The large entrance area would also serve as a shop of sorts, so he would need a tall counter to provide the dual role of having somewhere for his customers to lean and a barrier to the rest of the workshop. Some tall stools might be nice too, so any consultations could be done sitting down, six perhaps.

The front side room, with a window to the main street, would need a custom draughtsman's table and a chair suitable for long hours in planning. It would also make a good rest area, and he'd need a bed frame in there, so he didn't disturb his Mama on nights he worked late.

The rear side room would need shelving in varying sizes, for storing his metals and providing a secure place to put his finished pieces before the customers came in to collect and pay for their goods. These would need individual locks on the cabinets, but it would be nice if the doors could be folded out of sight for ease of use.

Clearly, he needed a copse-worth of wood at least. Ivor decided to go and have a word with the carpenter, whose shop he'd seen earlier. He needed to get an idea of the timeframe of such an undertaking and frankly he'd like to know what the price for such things would be. Perhaps the carpenter would be open to a little trade, skill for skill, but there was only one way to find out.

Wood Works @Ercassie

Ivor knocked as he went in, looking for the master carpenter, hoping they weren't too busy.

[Liläth]

Bloodbath & Beyond - Armoury / Blacksmith


Beril

‘Food...food…’ Vane’s ears flicked at his pet mentioning the word meat. Not that he understood her spoken tongue but when she mentioned that word, food often followed. His grey orbs sleepily focused on his two legged pet who was standing at the heat bringer and he yawned, flashing his sharp canines briefly. He didn’t understand the driven need she seemed to have to make sharp things but his pet seemed to enjoy it, so he could not disapprove. ‘Hungry..’ He said, his stomach grumbling slightly as if to agree with his previous statement.

The tall being that smelled like old leather had left in search of the ‘food’ and he wished him nothing but good fortune in his hunt. The days of him hunting for meals had long since passed and what a blessing that was. His pet had taken him in and now he gets fed regularly. His domain is warm, safe and despite his hatred for anyone other then his pet, he even tolerated that stupid cat. His grey eyes shifted to the offending being who was currently licking his paw. The cat called Bax was an unwelcome presence but his pet seemed to enjoy having the useless fluff ball around. So he could not complain too much. Vane slowly lifted and sighed, baring his canines at Bax as he passed by him. ‘Your lucky!’ He growled, knowing full well the feline would make a very nice meal indeed. Bax however barely blinked at the growl and ignored it, as cats often do, much to the Vane’s annoyance.

With his grey eyes narrowed, he padded across the wooden floor of the shop to enter the back area of the forge, settling himself on the stone floor beneath him. From here he could keep an eye on his pet and also the food the tall leather being will bring back. More chance of getting scraps then at the front of the store. ‘Yes, this was the perfect place indeed.’ He gruffed, rolling onto his back to enjoy the heat the fire sky ball gave to his stomach. Life indeed was good, very good.

‘Beril’ Her name was being called and she blinked quickly, shifting her gaze from the fiery coals to the door that led to the inside of her shop. “At the back!” She called back in response before she turned on her heels quickly and rushed to clear some of the items off the table. On tippy toes, she reached for a few items. Two plates, some cutlery…’ahh..would he be offended by how crude they were?’ Her seafoam gaze glanced at the well used, slightly chipped plates and the common cutlery that she had brought back from her travels.

Beril had never been the kind to hold dinner parties or in fact have any kind of meal with other people. It was normally quick, rushed and sometimes forgotten. Her mind was constantly on whatever tasks she had on hand and not on entertaining others. A faint tinge of red kissed her cheeks again and she nervously wiped her hands on her apron before she untied the leather bands and placed the apron on the back of her chair.

Beril’s attire was anything but feminine. In fact, dresses were not something she owned. The grey coal stained overalls were far from appealing but it was suitable attire for her line of work. Well..suitable attire to dwarves in general. Her fingers played with the sturdy fabric thoughtfully before whatever nervous moment she had, snapped at his next words. “Of course it’s not done yet” She lifted her chin and placed her hands on her hips, scolding almost. “If there is someone that can whip out a flawless battle axe in a few hours, let me meet this person.” She huffed and gestured to the clean table beside her. “We can eat here if you wish? Also, were you able to get some meat bones for vane and bax?” She paused for a moment. “..uh..thank you for grabbing food..Ten..i appreciate it”

[Pele Alarion]

Nell's Bread and Pastries

For a while Pele felt that she could forget all the troubles that seemed to press down on her, as she gradually relaxed, merely enjoying the tea and occasionally glancing out at the people passing by the window. When was the last time she had actually sat down to enjoy tea... and when had she last enjoyed Nell's and Veo's presence like this? A small smile played on her lips and in her eyes as she thought that she should treasure moments like this.

"I am not sure if I would ever feel ready to return to my duties, but once I am here, I should busy myself with something," Pele added after a moment of silent sipping of tea. "It might not work out if I tried to make visiting you a type of business. Or would it? A professional tea and bread taster." She couldn't help but chuckle softly at the idea. "Should it be seen as upgrading or downgrading from a soldier's status?"

@Isolde Alarion, @Veowyn

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta, Wood Works (Carpentry)
Turning trees.

The lathe was an unrepentant thief, stealing such degrees of time that one glance from it’s mesmerising trance found dawn at the window, the next fell quite astonished at the draw of dusk. There was such a pleasant anaesthesia to the soft whir and the gentle click of the instrument, that eyes even which dragged with weariness could scarce tear themselves from their task. As it was, the fall of night was the only clock the carpenter required, and lamented all the same. A requirement it dictated to stall, to rest, for at least as long as there was no light to allow his work meet standards. Candles could come later, when the expense for how many he should need to see him toil all the night should not hold his mind against it’s will, with the very thinking upon it.

Least of all, his son’s careless comment about fire insurance. He would have to look into that, Addhor vowed, same as he did each day before his mind was elseways led. After all, if the former ranger could locate peace deep amidst Ithilien in times of war, when there was every chance of Orcs putting malicious flame to forest, he could certainly find peace here. The entire contents of the shop might burn, should some calamitous new challenge find the city; wood could not escape the barest dance of fire. But the shop’s walls were stone, strong and hardy, dressed in the uniform pearl hue of the entire city. Addhor trusted in those solid foundations that delved deep below the polished skin of pretty Minas Tirith, as devoutly as he believed in his beloved country. For so long as there was Gondor, there would always remain Ithilien. And as long as there were walls that he could claim his own, there was space enough here to grow from the ground up, a business. Literally.

The Man’s steady hand grazed along the fall of the strong cord of his apparatus. Brown eyes leant their scrutiny to the clinging embrace where that twine splayed roots around the billet of wood. It was green wood, the plump veins of it’s lifesap not dried to barren yet by long-time storage. The resource was freshly harvested from the forest courtesy, as ever, of Narradir; yet a mere teaser of the order which was readying in bulk to leave it’s ancestral home behind it.

With a dignified sense of unnecessary gravity, the Man attended his seat, resuming a sentry’s duty of his booted foot upon the treadle. The pedal depressed at the Carpenter’s measured weight, with a preciseness of pressure, slow and wary though it seemed at first, soon after then falling to the dance of a timely drop and rise. The reach of an overhanging wooden arm bowed low from it’s reign amongst the rafters, like a reverent courtier before his king. The cord cast consequent new arms of binding about the tethered wood in response, in a pivot of new breath. Then the tradesman relinquished his influence and the great arm escaped aloft from the tension, as though an arrow sprung free from it’s draw.

The billet of wood twirled, first one way and then the other, as this prelude was trialled a few times. Gradually speed was ushered into the equation, blossoming along with confidence. And finally the climax of the choreography, the surgical lean of serrated chisels, reined in by a tempered mastery of their rounded handles. Concentration never lapsed, and the tiny inflections stood a subtle testament to deviances of design. The collaboration of the entire assembly composed new shape out of old, directing the green wood to gyrate, to turn, into the soft curve of a spindled wand. It might prove the column of a bannister. Or a broom handle. Or any of some countless things.

**

The sound of the opening door was an alien intrusion, which tugged at the Carpenter’s ear, as any alert had been trained to. The rhythm of his pace slowed, and the chisel withdrew it’s assault upon the spinning wood piece. The first person to venture into the new shop, the first reason he had found to lure his mind (and foot) from his labours. Addhor rose, and came with not a great speed to haunt the extensive carven counter that split the room. He smiled perhaps a little overlong, for he had almost forgotten how to converse with people.

“Can I help you ?” he remembered, at least, was the way that these proceedings tended to start.

@Lirimaer

[Tenharien]

Bloodbath & Beyond - Armoury / Blacksmith

"At the back?" Tenharien repeated looking around confused. "Ah, gotcha," he said as his eyes settled and then glanced over to the hound's ears perking up a little. "Yes, no of course. Just a joke haha," Tenharien smiled and shook his head. "But that would be crazy if you were done so quickly. I might even pass out from shock. Alas, that's impossible and I would like to meet the person capable of that task. They would very very rich and very very busy."

"Yes let's eat. Here is just fine!" Tenharien moved over to the table, carrying everything and setting it down neatly. I got little extra. I'm starving and I don't know how much you like to eat so. Let's get to it while it's still hot. Hmm?" Ah yes the bones are right on top."
Tenharien reached in the bag and took out the wrapped up bones for the beasts and handed them to Beril.
"Here you are. I hope they enjoy them. And you are quite welcome, it's no problem at all."

Tenharien continued to set the food out on the table and took in the pleasant aroma while he set each item down. "I swear, I could eat like this every single day. Probably shouldn't though haha."

[Lirimaer]

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Wood Works (Carpentry), with Addhor Raxëlilta

"Fair morning to you!" Ivor greeted the man, wondering if he was just tired. "I hope you can help me. I've just taken over the building over on the end of the row and it's a shell, basically. I've spent a few days clearing it out and I think what it needs now is some good solid timber. Essentially, I'm looking for a total refit. Here."

Ivor pulled out a plan he'd spent a little while wrangling together:
.

.
"Here, take a look," he said, pushing it over. "Primarily I need the main room fitted out with the tool racks, shelving and the workbench; the back room with its shelving and the draughtsman's table. These really just need to be serviceable and hardwearing long-term, because they're going to see a lot of hard use - particularly the workbench, which needs to be able to support the bigger tools too. I'm expecting that to be real solid. The shelving above the workbench is going to need designing for the tools, really so you'd need to come and see what I've got and design around them.

"After that, the counter's going to be the main place customers see, much like in here, but it won't see any rough usage. It can afford to be a bit more pleasing to the eye, y'ken what I mean? Something that looks like somebody loved it into being. The stools for that aren't particularly high priority, so they can be put on the back burner.

"The fire surround'll probably see a lot of heat - you'll see I've given it a lot of distance, but even so. It'll need to be about 10" wide for the top, and chunky is what I'm thinking. I want to be able to stand on it without worrying it's gonna break. It'd be nice if it looked nice too, but none of yon thin spindly struts," he waved his hand at some. "These need to be properly solid."

"The other stuff can be fitted in as and when. I don't know how long this is going to take you - and your team? But my goal is to have the tools in so I can get back to work as soon as may be."

"Does this all seem like something you could do? Or do you have some questions?"

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta, Wood Works (Carpentry)
Plotting Plans, with Ivor (@Lirimaer)


The man who had just ventured in was clearly quite stirred by the project he began to outline. Grateful for the direct approach of their conversation, Addhor leant slightly upon his counter for comfort. It took a piece of time nonetheless, for the extent of the customer's thinking to become apparent, but (Ivor) had allowed himself to become the right exact amount of carried away.

"Congratulations, foremost, on your bold endeavour," the Carpenter shared with him, calmly, when allowed to speak. "You have certainly put a good deal of mind toward this. I am assuming that you have already taken measurements, and that this stands to scale," he supposed rather than questioned, based upon the forethinking already demonstrated. Brown eyes did not make further demands of the designer, for so long as they were intent about his illustration. "Both the duration and the expense would be most affected by your choice of timber," was the first appraisal. "My 'team', as you say, are about a consignment even as we speak, but it remains to see if their harvest might suit your requirements. This type of enterprise which you propose is not exactly typical, though not beyond question. Greater challenges I could assure you have been met, though more oft than not it is 'yon thin spindly struts' which pay the rent these days," he admitted, honestly. "Which is fortunate for you, else you might have not found anyone available to even hear your plans so swiftly."

It was true that such a grand undertaking did not fall into Addhor's lap on every day of the week, or even once a week; not these days. When though first the city had begun to rebuild after the war, there had been no end of raising structures, erecting some resemblance of life and framework unto peoples' lives. It had been a welcome reprieve of course, from all the assembling of coffins which that same war had encouraged. The experience in both demand and design of the peoples' wants had been formidable. Not if he had torn Minas Tirith to ground with his bare hands, could the carpenter have found more use for his skill, nor chance to hone it. His friends who had been largely forced from their careers, following the King's restructure of his army, had proved keen to lend their physical assistance to Addhor's expertise. And the very establishment the two men now stood in was testament to what that laborious investment had afforded; a base from which future ventures could be conceived, and accomplished.

"You didn't mention what manner of business you intend," Addhor glanced up from the drawing and flattened both palms across his counter, as he considered the nameless man. "Though from this, I might wager a smith of some fashion ? So might be not only the tools' shape, but their function and clime must be accounted for. Some woods stand as strong as others, but can tolerate less heat. It will certainly require an inspection of the premises to start, and clarification of your specific expectations. That will get you more worthwhile advice than I could offer blind." Dark hair fell back as the Carpenter stood up straighter, and returned the drawing to it's artist. "You could probably get 'fitted out' with more haste and less coin if you wish for your equipment to fall short of your creativity," came the frank analysis. "Else I can extend you a visit in say, an hour, if it is convenient. And we at least both come to some better understanding of what quite would be involved. How does that find you ?"

[Lirimaer]

Ivor, a metalsmith of Gondor

Wood Works (Carpentry), with Addhor Raxëlilta

Ivor could have laughed at himself, if he wasn't so embarrassed. He hadn't even mentioned who he was, what he did? Oh his Mama would laugh! He answered the question with as much humility as he could muster, even as his face reddened.

"Yes. I am a smith of some sort," he said quietly. "I am called Ivor. And I should be pleased to show you the place, for I have but rough measurements, and you will need to work in smaller increments to fit the space. My knowledge of wood types is limited to solid oak and whatever it is they make wooden spoons from. Though I do not know if oak is most suitable for my needs, or if another kind might do better. I know metal, and early learned to fashion it to my will, but wood -" he glanced somewhat helplessly around the shop. "Wood has its own mind," he said darkly.

There was a small silence, which Ivor filled after hearding the echo of his own words. "I don't mean to impugn your art;" he hastened to add. "Quite the opposite - I am in awe of the skill it takes to fashion so contrary a material. But ... in an hour, you said. I will await your convenience."

Ivor stumbled out into the grey day, grateful to be outside since he had felt very much like a excitable yet tongue-tied youngling in the presence of the ponderous carpenter. Perhaps he would be more settled in his own workshop? Or, his own workshop-to-be, at least.

In the streets, heading back to his workshop

'Am I over-reaching?' he asked himself, dancing his way round a few children in the street on his way back to the shop. 'I think he said he liked my ideas, but then he wasn't even sure he'd be getting the right wood in.' He let out a breath of frustration. After spending so much time designing, it would be a feat in itself if he could step back and let the carpenter work. Already his fertile brain was imagining cladding the front counter with a metal frieze and wondering if the railing for the fire surround oughtn't to be ironwork topped with wood, instead of all wood. He could imagine the design already, deceptively strong curliques decorated with a lazy vine motif, perhaps, or maybe a more stylised geometric pattern, such as he had seen decorating the axes of the Dwarves - that could be interesting.

In truth, he wanted to be doing, not watching others do, while he himself waited around impatiently. He would have to find himself a project to keep him busy while the other man was (men were?) working, otherwise he could see that he'd start meddling, and that would be a recipe for disaster.

He stopped off to get a drink and had another look at his plan, his finger worriting the blank stretch of wall between the fire and his stock room where a door could easily be fitted. Time went by, and eventually, having thought of far more plans than he had money to pursue or time to see them completed, Ivor went back to his shop to meet the carpenter.

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
'Wood Works' (Carpentry), with Ivor (@Lirimaer)


The Metalsmith admitted his profession, and his name, which earned him no sure smile from the Carpenter. This not so much because Addhor was unimpressed, that wasn’t it at all; but more that he did not seek to appear amused at the other man's self-consciousness. Ivor seemed to have sat back upon his excitement somewhat, and embarrassment was hardly what the Carpenter would wish to gift his customer. "Flame is your friend, and yet my foe," he shrugged off the other man's concerns as much as he might try. "Still we each take something that the land has given us and make of it some new thing," Ivor, a smith, must be more concerned with what metals or gems might be harvested from under the earth, rather than what grasped from that same earth with hardy fingers to bathe under sky. Addhor might have claimed his favourite 'jewels' in this world would always be the fair fruit borne by trees. Still craft was craft, the dedication was a mutual requirement and he could appreciate that.

"An hour then," with a cordial nod, he allowed the other man to rediscover the bright light of day beyond, hopeful that the Smith's prospects should not be tarnished by the truths and realities they must discuss. A dream could seem undone by matters that might never have been imagined at the outset. But often it was the mastery over unforeseen surprises which made greater satisfaction in the end. It made an adventure out of the journey. Some things could prove even better than initially imagined. That was where the site visit would start. And that was when Addhor realised, he had not given up his name to the other man either .. The smile came despite his efforts, and a slow shake of his head.


An Hour later
at Ivor's workshop


There had been time taken, to locate the paperwork and ascertain quite what timber was en route, and how much. The orders these days were pretty standard, but he would be red-faced if he were to misinform, based on but a hunch.

As for hunches, 'the building over on the end of the row', the Smith had said. It was a fair quarter of the Marketplace that the Carpenter found himself therein with several traders, their doors cast wide open to encourage intrigue and enchant with all their diverse wares. Years of watchful waiting and a cloaked existence did not entirely foregp the former Ranger, but he did not wish to be observed as though 'casing' the building. The yardstick put paid to at least some of that of course; an alibi. Finally Addhor moved to actually try the only closed door thereabouts, and hope he had not lost his sense of direction. Or dreamt the entire interaction with the smith which, given his lack of sleep last night, was entirely possible.


EDIT/ OOC - Edited out the rather presumptive (of me) progression of our interaction. So there is no rush or expectation, while you explore your other RPs

[Lirimaer]

Annabel Warren, a currently-unemployed tavern wench, blood seeping from cuts to her arm

Walking the market streets, looking for a healer

Annabel stumbled a little. The bag on her back was getting heavier by the moment, and she could feel beads of sweat dripping down her temples, moistening her hair. She needed to find someone to help her, and was trying to read the signs on the shops, looking for one which might suit.

Her face was pale and drawn and she gripped her arm to her chest for grim death, the blood on her arm only oozing now, but having stained her blouse and skirt, she was sure she looked a sight. No one appeared to notice her in the slightest, and she eventually sat down on a small wall to consider her options.

She swiped her face with her good arm, and managed to get a good streak of red across her forehead even if it did clean some of the sweat away. And then she saw it, the apothecary. Lurching to her feet, Annabel stumbled toward the shop, making her way to the doorway, where she laid her head on the jamb and rested it.

"Hello?" she called weakly into the Apothecary's shop. "Is anyone there? I've had an accident and need a little ... " cleaning? change of clothes? stitching? alcohol? sleep? "help," she said eventually, trying to keep herself from grabbing the doorway and leaving bloody handprints everywhere.

[Nessa Saelind]

Nessa de Argosy (human, she/her) with her daughter Ellin (human, she/her) browsing around the Marketplace

A couple of days after their arrival to Minas Tirith from Pelargir Nessa de Argosy made good on her promise and took her daughter Ellin to the Marketplace. Both mother and daughter styled their hair in a fishtail side braid and wore nicer clothes; Nessa wore a cobalt blue dress, while her daughter chose a cornflower-blue one. Also, Nessa brought along her taupe coloured satchel in which (among other things) she carefully placed what she and her friends Iris and Decius referred to as their first aid kit: a roll containing essential medical instruments (scalpels, scissors, tweezers, needle and thread etc.) a vial of rubbing alcohol, clean cloth and gauze. Her husband and her cousin both teased her for walking around the city with her medical instruments, but since she resumed her apprenticeship in the Houses of Healing carrying the first aid kit with her made her feel more confident. She might never need it, but it was there.

As they walked from their home on the 4th level to their destination the seven-year-old vibrated with excitement and curiosity. She asked numerous questions about the White City and the marketplace and Nessa patiently answered her daughter’s questions to the best of her ability. As they reached the Marketplace the first thing both of them noticed was its size and liveliness. Many shops were refurbished and reopened. They observed the people dressed in a variety of different styles and colours who were walking around browsing, chatting, touching things, entering and exiting shops. Shop owners and apprentices were calling out to potential customers, advertising their goods. The hustle and bustle in the Marketplace, along with the level of activity and trade indicated that the White City was recovering from the War.

Neither of the two had a particular destination in mind, so they slowly walked around the marketplace looking around, comparing Minas Tirith’s marketplace to the one in Pelargir and getting to know the feel and atmosphere of the place.

- Mama... Are we looking for anything in particular? – Ellin asked her eyes roaming the marketplace.
- I suppose we are. – Nessa replied after a pause. – I need to find some thank you gifts for friends and family, but I still don’t know what I want to get them.
- Oh… How will you get anything if you don’t know what to get?
- We’ll keep looking around the market and see what draws our eye. – She replied with a smile. – But we have to start somewhere, I suppose. Let’s start with the apothecary, they might have something for Iris and Decius there… If they don’t, at least we can get some fancy soap. What do you say?
- Yes! – Ellin said excitedly.

Smiling at her daughter’s enthusiasm and joy she held her hand tighter as they headed toward the apothecary. Her daughter practically skipped, keeping a steady stream of comments about her surroundings, adding suggestions on which shops they might visit and what their family members might like to get as a thank you gift. When they reached the Apothecary a strange sight greeted them: the Apothecary appeared to be empty, but a woman (Annabel) carrying a bag with a bloody blouse and skirt was standing on the threshold asking for help.

- Mom… – Ellin called gesturing toward the woman (Annabel).
- Yes, I see her starling. – She replied and gave her daughter a reassuring smile. – It looks like there’s no one in the apothecary at the moment, so we’re going to go over to the lady and I’m going to see what’s the matter. Then you and I will take her to the Houses of Healing where I’ll treat her. And yes, you can come with.
- Thank you, mama!

Holding her daughter’s hand tightly Nessa and Ellin walked over to the woman (Annabel) careful not to frighten her.

- Hello. – Nessa called out as she approached and the woman (Annabel) turned her head toward them. She looked pale and haggard, and being closer she could see several cuts on the woman’s arm. – I’m Nessa de Argosy, I’m an apprentice healer in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. With your permission, I’d like to look at those cuts on your arm and do what I can here before we take you to the Houses of Healing for further treatment.

((OOC: @Lirimaer I hope it's OK if I administer first aid at the Marketplace before we move on to the Houses of Healing which is better equipped for treating any sort of injuries. :-) ))

[Lirimaer]

Annabel Warren, injured visitor to Minas Tirith

At the entrance to the Apothecary's shop, with Nessa

Annabel lifted her head slowly at the sound of a friendly voice, it was certainly nice to hear one, even if it was coming from the street outside the Apothecary. Her arm was a dull ache now, the blood having stopped seeping out with the firm grasp she had on it, but had left a dry-sticky glaze on the skin. The pain made focusing on rapid conversation difficult.

The woman who had spoken to her looked kind. Nessa, a goodly name. The woman was younger than herself, but taller, and clearly a woman of some class by her clothes and bearing. A concerned expression gave her heart-shaped face a serious mien, and Annabel felt no qualms about trusting her injury to Nessa, apprentice or no.

"Thank you," she responded slowly, but fervently. "I don't mind if you look at it here. I fell and hurt it a short time ago, but it feels like I've been trying to find someone to help for hours!"

She sagged slightly and let the building take her weight as she turned toward the healer.

"I don't think it's bleeding so much anymore," she said, unpeeling her fingers from her left arm slowly, grimacing at the stickiness of drying blood. "It was at the beginning, and then more as I pulled bits of pottery out of the wound. Maybe that was a mistake, but I couldn't hold my arm firmly enough to stop the blood with them in there!"

She suddenly noticed that the woman had a child with her. "Oh," she exclaimed, her pale face draining of any colour at all, and simultaneously trying to hide the wound and her bloodied clothing from the girl. "Oh I'm so sorry! Please don't worry about it! Just point me toward these healing houses and I'll be fine!"

She stopped leaning on the wall, to prove she was indeed fine, and smiled somewhat manically.

[Nessa Saelind]

Nessa and Ellin with Annabel at the entrance to the Apothecary

Nessa was relieved when she saw that the woman (Annabel) lifted her head at the sound of her voice. She noticed how weary her patient looked, for she had already started to think of the woman (Annabel) as her patient, but still, she managed to slowly respond to the apprentice healer’s inquiry. These two things indicated that her patient, despite the blood loss from her wounds, wasn’t in a state of shock. If Nessa was to administer first aid quickly and help the woman (Annabel) to get to the Houses of Healing as quick as she could her patient’s recovery would be faster.

The woman (Annabel) leaned on the wall of the Apothecary and started to describe how she injured herself. Nessa listened intently, aware that her daughter was standing next to her, and listening to what was being said. She looked at Ellin and noticed that she wasn’t repulsed by the woman’s bloody clothes or the wound. Instead, she had a slight frown on her face, the same one her mother had when she concentrated on solving a problem, which indicated that her daughter was thinking about what she could do to help. At that moment she was very proud of the smart and compassionate little girl she and her husband raised.

Nessa reached for her satchel, opened it, and was about to take out her first aid kit when the woman (Annabel) suddenly cried out. She looked up from her satchel, the roll with the medical instruments in hand, and realized that the woman was trying to hide her wound.

- Oh, I'm so sorry! – The woman exclaimed, moving away from the wall. – Please don't worry about it! Just point me toward these healing houses and I'll be fine!

Realizing that the woman (Annabel) just noticed that Ellin was standing next to her and probably thought that the sight of her injury and the state of her clothes would frighten her daughter.

- Please, you needn't worry. – She said calmly placing the roll with the medical instruments back in her satchel. – It’s alright, you didn’t frighten Ellin.

Upon hearing her name mentioned Ellin looked up and smiled confidently at the woman (Annabel). – Don’t worry ma’am. My mom’s a great healer! She’ll patch you up and you’ll be right as rain in no time!

Despite Ellin’s enthusiasm and Nessa’s reassurance the woman (Annabel) still looked uncomfortable, like she was intruding on something, rather than accepting much-needed help.

- Please, don’t worry. You’re not disturbing us, and I’m more than happy to help. – Nessa reassured the woman once again. – There’s a small fountain with a few benches nearby. We’ll go there and you can sit down while I treat your injury.

The woman (Annabel) looked at them for a few moments, then glanced at her arm and looked at Nessa again. Reaching a decision she slowly nodded and carefully moved away from the Apothecary wall. She reached out to support her patient and the two women and seven-year-old walked over to the small cheery fountain where the woman promptly sat down on the nearest bench.

Nessa took out the roll with the instruments and some clean cloth from her satchel and placed the roll on the bench and the cloth on top of it. She looked at the woman’s injury and noted that she would need to cut the sleeve to properly clean the wound.

- Ellin. – She called and gave her daughter a clean cloth. – Please go to the fountain and wet the cloth so I can clean the lady’s injuries.

Her daughter nodded and went to do what she was bid. Nessa turned toward the woman again (Annabel) and smiled.

- I do apologize, I’m being awfully rude. I haven’t even asked for your name and I’m going to have to ruin your shirt now to clean and treat your arm. – She paused while she unwrapped the roll with her medical tools and looked for the bigger scissors. – I’m afraid I can only do first aid here, but it will have to do until we get you to the Houses of Healing so I can properly treat your arm.

@Lirimaer

[Lirimaer]

Annabel Warren, injured visitor to Minas Tirith

At the fountain, with Nessa and Ellin

Annabel took surreptitious looks every now and then at the maid child, Ellin. She really did not seem too flustered by the gore at all, and she clearly thought her Mama could fix anything. Perhaps she could. Annabel was certainly going to let her try.

She was sitting near the fountain now, since Nessa had taken charge and not let her get away with prevaricating. Her eyes were taken with the woman's roll of tools, which were impressive, but as she sent her daughter away with a dry cloth, Nessa launched into speech. She said a lot. Annabel stared at her lips, which were smiling and sincere, and she spoke very kindly and slowly, and Annabel blinked and nodded appropriately. She wasn't entirely sure what first aid was, since aid of any kind was welcome, and if anyone was first it was herself, although she had made the bloodflow worse with her removal of crockery shards. Still, the woman was promising more aid, although it seemed they'd have to go somewhere else for that sort of thing - perhaps that was second aid. Her brain took her on a journey and she wondered whether final aid was a total recovery, or death. It was a sobering thought.

Nessa was still staring at her though, with that polite smile, and she wracked her brain for a reason why. Something about not asking names ... she hadn't been asked her name, it was true, but the woman could have it, it wasn't a secret.

"My name's Annabel," she said huskily, then coughed a little. "Annabel Warren. Came here for work, but eh," she shrugged, and it seemed final. "Didn't go so well."

[Nessa Saelind]

Marketplace fountain, Nessa and Ellin with Annabel

While she waited for the woman’s (Annabel) response, Nessa drew out the larger scissors from her role with medical tools. She observed her patient, who was lost in thought and tried to think what else she could do for her at the Marketplace. Firstly she needed to check if all the shards were taken out of the wound, then clean it and disinfect it as best as she could here; and bandage it to prevent further bleeding and infection. When they reach the Houses of Healing she would repeat the procedure, properly this time, cleaning the wound with soap and warm water. Then she would use an antiseptic, oil of thyme, or witch hazel or a calendula tincture would do.

- My name’s Annabel. – The woman’s husky voice interrupted her musings and Nessa immediately focused on what Annabel was saying instead of on her injury.

- I’m sorry that your first encounter with the White City ended up like this. – Nessa said after a moment. – But do not despair, you had a bit of a mishap today, but nothing that can’t be sorted. Besides, there are plenty of jobs in the City that is rebuilding and renovating after the War. – She smiled at the woman and suddenly she realised what else she could do for the woman here.

Reaching out for her satchel she looked through it and took out a canteen – a small glass bottle in a woven basket cover. It was closed with a cork stopper. Daisy, their cook, was in an experimenting mood and she prepared a water infusion with lemon, mint and ginger. She decided to take some with her to the Marketplace, just in case she or Ellin got thirsty.

- You should drink this. – She said as she uncorked the bottle and offered it to Annabel. – It’s water flavoured with mint, lemon and a bit of ginger. It won’t stop the pain, but you will feel better, more awake and focused than you are now.

Annabel looked at her sceptically, but she still took the bottle and carefully took a sip. She made a face when the sour taste hit her tongue, but still drank slowly. Meanwhile, Ellin returned from the fountain with the damp cloth and she smiled at her daughter and she smiled back. When Annabel put the bottle down she decided it was time to begin.

- Firstly, I’m going to cut the sleeve of your blouse Annabel… – She started explaining to both of them, as she took Annabel’s injured arm in her left hand and scissors in her right, and deftly cut out the sleeve. – And now that I can see the wound better I will see if there are any more shards in it and then clean it…

She inspected the wound, but as far as she could see there were no shards left there. She took the damp cloth from Ellin and with swift, but gentle and careful movements she started to clean around the wounds. After she finished, and the wet cloth was stained red from the blood, she took out another clean cloth and the vial of rubbing alcohol. She opened the vial, the strong smell of medical alcohol permeating the air, dampened the cloth with it and looked at Annabel who averted her eyes from her injured arm.

- This is going to sting. – Nessa warned her as she dabbed the alcohol dampened cloth around the wounds. Although she tried to be as quick and gentle as possible, Annabel hissed as the alcohol-soaked cloth made contact with her skin. After she disinfected the wounds the best as she could, she covered the wounds with a bandage and wrapped it with gauze.

- This should do, for now. – She told Annabel as she finished. – We’ll have to go to the Houses of Healing to get this cleaned and bandaged properly. The Houses are on the 6th level of the City. Do you think you can walk that far? – She asked her with concern. – Please, if you don’t feel well let me know, I’ll look for someone with a cart here to take us there, it’s no trouble at all.

[Isolde Alarion]

Nells Breads & Pastries
Bakery, Nelladel Master Baker

"Now if you like I can bake some of these without the walnuts in them." Nell offered as she followed the elder woman out of her shop, she gently held the womans basket for her and made sure to steady her steps down the small stoop. One of her best customers, Nell loved to spend time with Mrs. Litia. When she came to pick up her weekly bread order Nell made sure she had time to share a cup of tea and a few stories with her. Being a widow with no surviving children Nell was sure Mrs. Litia enjoyed the weekly visits as much as she did.
"Oh no dear.." the elder woman spoke as she came down the steps. "You don't have to bother on my account." she brushed away the offer with an aged hand. "It's no bother. I assure you and besides some people don't care for walnuts so it's not like I'd be wasting what was left of the order. It will sell." She returned the womans smile. "Well..if you insist. Now I have to be going.. Mrs. Tuttle at the vegetable market is waiting on me." Nell lightly handed her basket to her and bid her good day, watching momentarily as the elder woman shuffled toward the vegetable stand.

She rest her hands on her hips and raised her gaze to the sun, closing her green eyes as she soaked in the warmth of the day. It was going to be lovely but she sighed as she looked back to the Marketplace, there was still work to be done come rain or shine. With her hands still on her hips she took in the view but she paused and tilted her head in curiousity as she noticed Addhor.

He seemed to be looking for something or someone. That reminded her, she needed to order a new display shelf and cooling rack for her breads. Her attention now back to what he seemed to be doing she watched with interest. Her curiousity peaked she figured no time like the present and before she forgot about the shelves. Peeking her head back into the bakery she called to her helper. "I'll be right back. I have some business to tend too."

Heading to the Metalsmiths door...

She crossed the street, taking her time to watch what the woodworker was doing. She noted the yardstick, obviously he was there to measure something. As she approached him she had to smile. He seemed abit lost. "Addhor." she greet him. "Are you lost?" she inguired with the same smile. She was happy to see him and made a mental note to not be a stranger. "Can I be of some assistance perhaps?"

@Ercassie ooc: Hope you don't mind some company.

[Winddancer]

Amlaith's Clay Pipes



The sound of an angered scream followed by the sound of porcelain smashing against the wall followed after Amlaith as he held the door to the room shut. Head bowed, body slumped he spent a few moments to regain his composure. He still loved her, dearly. Though these bursts of anger, the ranting and especially the raving was beginning to take it's toll on him. Dark circles pooled beneath his sunken eyes, his face becoming more gaunt and harrowed by the day as his wife grew steadily more irrational and combatant. He was sure that they would not be able to keep her here much longer without her causing injury to herself or him and his daughter.

His heart ached for days long gone, still seeing the beautiful, loving and caring woman that he had courted and married so many years ago. Even though all that was left of those times now was his daughter. A lone tear spilled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away so that Asta would not see. He knew she suspected that he cried when alone, but that did not mean he wanted to subject her to it all the same.

Another angered scream had him wincing, his shoulders rolling in to protect himself as if he had been physically hit. Letting go of the door handle, he gave a mournful look towards the door before turning away and heading back down to the workshop. As he reached the door, he paused for a long moment, just standing there and watching his daughter as she dreamily stared out of the window. Guilt and shame rushed over him, his stance becoming even more crestfallen, his heart breaking once more with the guilt of robbing his only daughter of a life filled with love and happiness.

But what was he to do? He could not afford to send Evelynne to the sanatorium, the only place he would even consider sending her to. Even though the war had stripped his wife of her sanity and made her hateful and violent, he still loved her with all his heart. But he also loved his daughter. Torn between the two, he felt his soul dying, leaving him a mere husk of himself. Wiping a slender hand over his haggard face he stepped into the room and gave a low cough so as to not startle Asta, heading over and softly running his hand over her luscious golden hair.

"Time for dinner, sweetness."

The pain he felt as she turned to look up at him with a smile almost broke him, fingers softly caressing her cheek as she said "Oh, sorry Papa, I was miles away.."

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta, a little premature in arriving/before the hour was up
Near the Metalsmith's Workshop, with Nelladel Alarion


Fingers closed around the handle, and yet did not try the means of entry. For to do so would be to ignore the voice suddenly behind him. It had not been such a time that Addhor would forget that voice. It might be a time yet before he imagined he would know how quite to meet it. Which might explain why he had kept a wide berth from any chance of doing so. But that was foolish. How long had they now known one another ? Too long, and too good a friend was she to lose for no good cause but pride. They had too much in common, for a start .. one very certain friend at least in common. But that ought strengthen the friendship, not shatter it.

"Nelladel," he could not stop at simply naming her 'Nell', any more than he could restrain his traitorous smile to see the green-eyed baker. "I hope not 'lost', but it does seem that I am arrived a little too early for my appointment with the Metalsmith," Addhor supposed. He tapped the measuring tool calmly against his thigh as though declaring it alibi. This really was a most unusual state of affairs to find time to spare, at least for him, when so oft now he seemed as though rushing to keep up after everything he wished to do. It was almost as though there was some reason to have brought him here ahead of the appointed hour. The fates had decided, he concluded. It was time to right this. Though he still was saying naught when she stood offering up her assistance, as though he were unskilled enough to even work a door ? Or remember manners.

"Honestly it all sounds as though some awful excuse of mine to shop for pastries," he rolled brown eyes a little awkwardly, for now that he had made such jest it might sound true. "Please tell me I am not in fact lost," he released the door handle, conscious that it might seem strange to not. That was a thing even more so odd, how had he even passed by her shop without realising it ? So much had changed. Was a time he had come every day without fail to the bakery, from training at the woodcrafters guild. But there was likely now some new apprentice to come daily in his place and buy lunch for their staff, since he and Narradir had branched out on their own. Priorities had shifted, like the seasons. "I have been so caught up in setting the shop," the Carpenter selected the most honest excuse he could voice. "I hope your own business is faring as well."

[Lirimaer]

Annabel Warren, injured visitor to Minas Tirith

At the fountain, with Nessa and Ellin

It was good to have a drink, and Annabel felt rather better after the sour mixture, the familiar burn of ginger root providing a heat in her throat that was quite pleasant. The woman Nessa was very astute and she felt rather like she'd landed on her feet, with such kindness coming her way.

It even made the cleaning of the wound more bearable, despite fresh air and alcohol doing some work in reminding her she was still alive to feel pain. It was as her sainted Aunt always said, "No pain, no gain!" and thus Annabel submitted, the odd grimace and sharp breath here and there notwithstanding. It did look cleaner, and the wrap around her arm was not painful at all, although she held it to her chest anyway. It looked like she'd done a good job of picking bits of crockery. And now Nessa wanted her to go to the Houses of Healing. It sounded rather grand and important, but also exactly like the sort of place that ought to have been mentioned by the people in the Inn when someone is bleeding all over the floor. Clearly the ale in there was rather strong. Maybe it would be better if she didn't work there. But Nessa was still talking ...

"The sixth level?" she repeated faintly. "I think, I think I'd rather ride, if it's all the same to you? This bag I'm carrying is heavy," and she jerked her head to indicate the waterproof sack she carried on her back.

[Isolde Alarion]

Near the Metalsmiths shop with Addhor
Nelladel, Master Baker

She was please to see his smile, she'd always found it pleasent. She nodded lightly at his reasoning for being there. It made sense. She glanced at the measuring tool he tapped against his thigh, looking back to him she chuckled lightly when he jest with her. "Business is well thank you. I'd heard you were setting up a shop..I.." she paused to find the right words. "..should have come to welcome you sooner. " Her embarassment for not going to his shop rose from the fact that she'd been feeling abit guilty in the way their paths parted.

"I hope you know you need no excuse to visit the bakery. You're most welcome anytime Addhor, you don't even have to buy lunch. I would enjoy the company to be honest." She offered a reassuring smile. Though their paths may have parted she still held his friendship dear to her heart.

It then dawned on her the other reason she walked over. "Oh yes!" she shook her head remembering. "I wanted to speak to you about some work I need done for the bakery. Some shelves and whatnot. Whenever you get the time. No real hurry."

[Nessa Saelind]

Minas Tirith Marketplace, Nessa, Ellin and Annabel at the fountain

Nessa observed Annabel as the woman thought about the question posed and was not surprised when the other woman quietly replied that she would rather ride to the Houses of Healing if the option was available. She had already noted the heavy sack that Annabel still carried on her back, and although the drink made the woman feel better and got some colour in her face Nessa didn’t think Annabel was well enough to walk unassisted to the 6th circle.

- Alright. – Nessa replied with a nod of her head. She corked the vial with what was left of the alcohol (very little, she would need to refill the vial at the Houses of Healing) and returned it to her roll with clean medical tools. She then separated the scissors she used from the rest of the instruments in her roll, wrapped the roll and placed it in her satchel. She looked at the damped used cloth stained with blood and debated whether to wrap the scissors in them or toss them. “Waste not, want not” – she thought to herself and wrapped the scissors in the used cloths. She would wash both cloth later and sterilise the scissors by boiling them in water and wiping them with medical alcohol.

- Ellin – she called her daughter’s name softly, and the girl looked at her aware that she was going to be given a task. – I’m going to find someone with a cart who will take us to the 6th circle. Stay here with Annabel and don’t move from her side unless it’s an emergency.
- Don’t worry mom, everything’s going to be alright. – Her daughter replied with the confidence of a 7-year-old and Nessa had to smile at her. She reached out and hugged her daughter tightly; Ellin returned the hug, wrapping her arms around her waist.
- I’ll be right back starling. – She told her gently letting her go and Ellin nodded.

Placing the satchel on across her shoulders Nessa strode quickly, her eyes searching for someone with a cart who would be able to take them to the Houses of Healing. There were a few carts around, filled with produce and various items which people were either loading or unloading. She frowned thinking that she would have to move further in her search when she saw a curly-haired young lad sitting on a cart looking bored. Letting out a sigh of relief she walked over to him.

- Excuse me… Is this your cart? – She asked the lad with a kind smile. He straightened up and looked over to her with a curious expression and nodded his head slightly.
- Me dad’s. Why? – The lad asked watching her carefully, noting the quality of her clothes and the way she stood and spoke to him.
- I have an injured patient that needs to be taken to the Houses of Healing. – She told the curly-haired teen and saw his eyes widen and the colour fading from his cheeks. – It’s not life-threatening – she added quickly seeing the lad’s reaction to her words. He visibly relaxed when he heard that – However, the sooner we get to the Houses the better. Would you be able to take us there in your cart?
- Aye, ma’am. – He replied after a short pause. – I’d had to tell me dad.
- That’ fine. – She replied with a relieved smile and reached into her satchel for her purse and took out a few coins. – Here, this is for you… – She paused realising she didn’t know the lad’s name and if the amount would be sufficient.
- Walter – he introduced himself. – Name’s Walter ma’am… You didn’t…
- Pleased to meet you, Walter. I’m Nessa and don’t protest. – She said with a grateful smile. – You go tell your father where you’re going and I’ll go get my patient and we’ll be on our way.

OOC: ((part 1 of 2, the 2nd part can be found at the Houses of Healing.))

[Winddancer]

Amlaith's Clay Pipes

The paper shook like leaves in the wind in his trembling hands. A single tear dropped down onto the parchment and blurred a word, though Amlaith did not care. Drawing in a sobbed breath, he crumbled up the letter and threw it in the small fireplace, watching as the parchment caught fire and quickly destroyed the letter. Five!? He would never be able to afford five gold a month. He doubted that he owned anything that was worth that much. And if he was to sell the business he would likely not get more than two months worth for it once all the debts had been paid off.

A distant scream and a loud crash made him flinch, his shoulders drawing in as if to protect himself. What was he going to do? The healers at the House of Healing did not have the facilities to care for long term patients like his wife and the only other sanatorium that was affordable looked terrifying, a shiver racing up his back at the thought of the sinister place. But he could not keep his wife here much longer, she was getting more violent by the day and if it continued like it had been, he was sure that his wife would soon be seeking to hurt herself or maybe even him and their daughter. At the thought of their daughter being hurt his heart broke again, several tears rolling down his haggard face.

No.. he knew what he had to do. He was just finding it impossible to do it.

"Papa!?"

Amlaith quickly wiped the tears from his face as he heard Asta's call, giving a call back "In here!"

She rounded the corner soon after, his heart singing with joy as he looked at the most precious thing in his world, his beautiful daughter. She looked at him quizzically "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes.. please.. come sit." He motioned her over to the small sofa and sat down next to her, pulling out a letter he had received a few days earlier. For a long moment he just stared at her, finding it difficult to say the words that was going to change their worlds forever.

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta, on the street
Near the Metalsmith's Workshop, with Nelladel Alarion


Relief unfurled like a flag when Nelladel seemed convinced that he was not here to stalk her, or her pastries. Though to be fair, the subject having risen of the delectable culinary goods was now firmly exhumed in memory. “I could never bear a grudge against that which has kept you busy,” Addhor ducked brown eyes sincerely. For it was not only her cooking that he meant, but also the other .. reason she might have lately found herself busy. Yet what were they like ?! Two grown adults stood awkward in the street like a pair of children who had been caught out at mischief by their teacher. But they had done nothing wrong, neither of them.

“There shall always be cause for me to seek out your bakery,” he assured her, accepting the baker’s first move with fair grace. After all, the company of Nelladel had once nurtured a confidence in the Carpenter which he had personally forgot he had ever owned. She had done that. She had made him ready to go on with his life, as she would now with her own. He wondered if she knew, and knew he could never tell her so. Any more than he might guess what it might all have readied him for next.

“Oh now I see,” he raised eyebrows at Nell’s latterly mentioned want. “You come over here, you remind a man of your unrivalled baking prowess, and then idly you recall some favour that he can do you ?” A gentle shake of the Man’s head did not dispel the amusement, so grateful was he for the subject far more comforting than forced smalltalk could find them. “Come then, show me what you have in mind for your shelves,” one hand invited her to lead the way. “I have time enough now for a quick consult, and the Smith might soon have me and mine busy some long time with the outlined project. If I do not see your needs ordered up with his, then all the supplies shall be used up until next time. And I might starve meanwhile with no excuse to ask for pastries as payment,” he supposed, with an unreliably serious mask.

The need to meet with Ivor afterwards was an unpredicted but perfect scenario. There could be no risk of Addhor forgetting himself in habit, after all, in the comforts of the bakery, not now. All three of them should be satisfied hopefully with their prospects by the end of this day. Addhor had forgotten to mention to the Metal-worker before, how he had personally made good use of his local guild to keep up with orders, while his initial workshop was being constructed. A mental note was made to express this suggestion to Ivor later, diverting the Carpenter meanwhile, from seeming too keen for the Baker’s response.

[Isolde Alarion]

Nell on th street
w/ Addhor

Her head tilted slightly to the right as her smile widened with amusement at his words. "Thank you." She beamed up at him and turned to lead the way but for a few steps, then she matched her steps to his and she came to walk beside him. "That would be dreadful. All the more importance of getting my shelves fixed and new ones ordered." She tried to refrain from grinning but it only lasted a moment.

When they reached the Bakery she entered first and called for her assistant. "Andarion!" Shortly a tall, dark haired young man came from the back of the shop. Wiping his hands as he did so. "Yes?" He asked as he looked between the two of them. "Andarion, this is Addhor." She lightly motioned to Addhor then looked bad to the man beside her. 'Addhor, this is Andarion. My assistant and adopted son." She smiled between them. Andarion offered his left hand, his right hand he kept close to his side. It being damaged and disfigured. "Pleased to meet you sir. " Andarion nodded in greeting.

"He'll be making us some new shelves and cooling racks." Nell further explained to Andarion who nodded in understanding. " I don't know how you talked her into it but thank you. I've nursed them along as far as I can I believe. " He shrugged as Nell looked at him in surprise then gave him a mock swat on the shoulder. "I'm not that bad.." she smiled and looked at Addhor, wrinkling up her nose. "..but unfortunatly they are."

Andarion then dismissed himself and went back to his work and Nell went to show Addhor a couple of the items she would like replaced. She came to stand near a display shelf. She moved the basket of danishes, absently handing them to Addhor. "See, this one is coming loose." she lightly shook it causing the slat to come out of place. "I can't put anything heavy on it for fear it will collapse on someone. " She went to another one. "This one is missing the whole bottom shelf...see.." she moved a couple baskets of flowers and revealed a whole missing shelf. She placed her hands on her hips in contemplation. " I don't think there's any saving that one." she grinned as she looked back at him then it dawned on her she'd dumped the basket of danishes in his arms. "Oh! Sorry!" An embarassed grin crossed her features as she took the basket back from him and held it close.

"You can have whatever wood you can reuse from them." Her right index finger pointed to the back of the bakery. "And the cooling racks too." She stood holding the danishes close while she waited for his thoughts on the shelves.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele
Visiting Nell's Breads and Pastries

Pele had been going about the day's duties as usual, and there were still things on her list that needed to be accomplished around the market. However, these particular chores seemed very demanding, as she kept herself at high alert in case of a possible surprise attack - marketplace was a busy place, a good spot to hide in a crowd and carry out evil things.

She had barely accomplished half of the necessary shopping when she came to stand outside the bakery; but the wish to step in and sit down for a few moments and relax was so overwhelming that Pele eventually gave in to this desire. Aiming for a surprise visit, she opened the door just enough to slide in sideways and made sure to close it softly.

No one was at the front, and she could hear voices from the back of the bakery. For a while she stood listening, and discerned Nell's voice, as well as Andarion, and... was it Addhor? Fully intending to join them - in just a moment - the Ranger sat down at one of the tables to collect herself. She'd just wait until the conversation would sound to be near the end.

That one moment seemed to stretch out indefinitely, as she simply enjoyed the comfortable atmosphere, the warmth, the scent of freshly baked goods, and the murmur of familiar and friendly voices. Perhaps, just for this one indefinite moment, she could let down her guard... "Only a moment," she thought to herself, leaning forward to rest her head on arms that she had crossed under to use as a pillow. "I'll get up and..."

Pele could not remember when she had last enjoyed a good night's sleep, and constant state of keeping alert to any possible threats had worn her out to the level that her body rebelled against the decisions of her mind. Lulled by the warmth and coziness, the moment was not used to get up and join the others at the back but to drift off into a deep sleep, regardless of a somewhat uncomfortable position for the particular activity.

[The Good Hunter]

Vipsania
The Streets, then the Grocer's

“Don’t be long now,” her mother's matronly alto voice called out from a room near the top of the stairs. “We're having guests tonight and you will be in attendance. Azrubêl and his son Nestedir will be there!” She was lucky her mother could not see the look of distaste on her face.

Another dinner party, another attempt at matchmaking. It was never going to end, not until her parents found some rich, head-in-the-clouds, pretty boy doofus for her to marry. She’d seen it happen to all her elder sisters, all five of them, and she’d seek the other side of it with her three older brothers. She was the youngest though, the last one still at home, the last chance to climb another rung on the ladder.

Azrubêl was an old man with too many sons. He was a shipping magnate with a fleet of merchant vessels anchored in Pelargir and Belfalas. Nestedir was a gawkish, spindly armed boy. Not something she was interested in. However, at 22 she was already late in finding a suitor that her parents could profit from.

“I’ll be back before dinner mother, I promise.” She called up, her voice echoing against the cold marble of the stairwell.

“See that you are! Well before. Like as not we're going to have to redo your hair by the time you get back.”

She rolled her jade eyes. “Yes, mother.”

“And take Ystr with you! I don’t want you running into trouble while you’re… while you're off doing whatever it is you do in the markets.”

The ghost of a smile, a smirk really, danced over her lips. “Yes, mother.”

Vipsania pulled her fiery, blood red hair into a high, bouncing ponytail and ran heedlessly through the winding, labyrinthine corridors until she emerged into the kitchens.

Ystr would be in here. Her bodyguard (at the insistence of her mother and father) spent every waking moment in the kitchens when he was not on duty. He was a terrible cook. Instead, he came to watch Zoë, the head chef, at work. They were the sweetest married couple she had ever seen. Though, without her interference, they would never have been a couple at all. Ystr, tall, brawny, and broody, was so painfully shy that he spent the first three months of their acquaintanceship peaking in from the hallway. Zoë, loud, forceful, and manic, hadn’t even noticed he existed until Vipsania had come down with a stomach sickness and he was forced to finally speak with her.

When she arrived, she was assailed by a dozen different smells. Slow cooking meats, baking breads, stewing vegetables. She inhaled deeply and felt her stomach gurgle in response. The young Dúnedain put a hand over her stomach and looked down admonishingly. “Traitor,” she muttered.

She spotted Ystr right away, he was taller than everyone in the kitchen and he was the only one not dressed in a white apron. He was standing across a countertop from a smaller woman, rail thin but sinewy with shoulders like mountains: Zoë. She was chopping something up with very sharp looking knife and Ystr was looking on as though the action was the most fascinating thing in the world. With a cough, Vipsania was able to garner the attention of both.

“Lady Vipsania!” he cried, straightening up quickly.

She laughed and smiled broadly. “I hope I didn’t catch you two at a bad time.”

There was a short fox-like bark of laughter from the smaller woman whose hair was so blonde it was nearly white. “Bad time? You might save the feast tonight if you take this handsome oaf off my hands.” Zoë smacked Ystr’s hand with the flat of the knife as he tried to sneak of mushroom from off the cutting board.

“If I’m saving the feast, then I ought to let him stay and distract you,” Vipsania countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I sympathize with you lass, if twas me up there having to preen and be paraded I’d fight it tooth and claw too, but it’s my ass on the line with the feast itself and as much as I sympathize with ye, I’m not gonna let it get ‘round that Zoë, Daughter of Fimbrethil falters when a feast is on the line.” The woman had whirled around and, though she stood at least half a handspan shorter than Vipsania, she loomed large and intimidating.

“Fine!” Vipsania said, placing the back of her right hand to her forehead overdramatically. “I suppose I’ll suffer through to make sure your reputation stays intact. “But I want an extra cake tonight, a chocolate one.”

The cook’s face remained stern for a heartbeat before she broke out into wide grin. “An extra chocolate cake for the Lady of the Manor, I think I can do that.”

Vipsania shared in the cook’s smile and clapped her hands excitedly.

“Now go on the both of you!” Zoë turned back to her husband and glared at him as he swallowed a mushroom.

“I’ll see you for supper dear,” Ystr’s voice was almost a whisper compared to his wife’s, soft and gentle but inexorable and strong still.

“I’ll meet you at the door,” Vipsania said as she darted back through the kitchen. Aside for a cloak, there was one more she needed to go to the markets: her violin.

She found it in the conservatory, ensconced in the top grain leather case bearing her initials by the hearth. She knelt, opened it, and pulled out the violin and the bow. Both were made from an exquisite, rich mahogany wood with rich dark veins running through it. It almost shimmered in the light. She drew the bow across the strings, a force of habit she’d developed over years and years of practice. The sound the violin produced was velvety and soft, it filled her with a kind of warmth that only music had been able to provide. She closed her eyes and imagined what she always did when she began to play: twilight, by a stream, with fireflies dancing in the air and swaying to the sounds of the music.

She lovingly traced the line of the violin’s neck then stood up, violin in one and bow in the other.

Ystr was by the door already, wrapped in his fur lined cloak. He wore his sword belt as well, a massive two-handed sword rested easy in the scabbard at his left hip.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready!” she beamed with excitement.

She was out of the door into the street in a flash. She began to dance as she moved through the crowd.

One, two, three, spin. One, two, three, weave. One, two, third, twirl. One, two three, slide. One, two, three, hold.

She brought the violin to her chin and began to play, the music lilting and swaying in time with her impromptu dancing through the streets. The melody was light and cheery, her fingers dancing madly over the strings while her bow soared across them. She laughed as she spun about and pirouetted. She was an awful dancer, but she loved the feeling of motion. If she had been the type to care about what she looked like, she would have been mortally embarrassed by her uncoordinated moves, but she wasn’t. She might as well have been alone on the streets for all the attentions she paid to the rest of people around her. She danced and played her violin. What she lacked in dance skills, she more then made up for with the violin. Her fingers were callused and quick, moving up and down the neck of the violin with a familiarity borne from hundreds of hours of practice. Here the music would speed up, climaxing to a fevered pitch that almost moved too fast for her and her bow, but no, she held on, then the music would slow to an almost turtle-like pace, the notes going so low that verily she could feel the vibrations of the sound rather than hear them.

Ystr was behind the entire time, keeping his distance as her erratic dancing could easily have caused a collision between the two but staying close enough to reach her in a bound or two.

They moved like this though the streets until finally, Vipsania saw a store she decided in that moment she absolutely needed to visit. A grocer. Why? Surely Zoë could use something interesting and exotic that couldn’t be found in the lower circles.

The music ceased as she entered the shop. With a great huff, Vipsania took in her surroundings, both sight and smell. It was utterly fantastic in here. She was not sure whether it was due to the foods or the exhilaration of the music, but she felt delightfully buzzy.

She didn’t see a proprietor or proprietress anywhere about yet but she was sure she’d attract them in a moment.

[Winddancer]

The Grocers
Gellir

Slowly and meticulously the number was written perfectly in the center of the small box that it was allocated to. A small pause before the second number was jotted down just as carefully in the box next to it. Critical blue eyes judged the result when it was done and once satisfied the young boy moved the pen back to the ink pot to redip it.

The ledger in which he was writing in was the accountancy ledger for his parents grocer store, but in his mind this ledger was his. No one else was allowed to touch it, let alone write in it. He did not want anyone elses messy writing to mess up his neat and orderly tables that made this ledger the most beautiful book in the world to him. Still with half a year until his teens began, Gellir had mastered the feat of accounting all on his own, his parents trusting in his abilities when he proved again and again that he was more than capable of doing the maths and in many cases far better than any of the two had managed to do. Gellir had even managed to turn the business from a loss into a profit with a few adjustments, something that had just about saved them given the hard times following the War a few years ago.

Picking up the piece of paper, he pressed it over the numbers he had just written to soak up the excess ink, not wanting it to smudge the opposite page. He had only just removed it when the small tinkle of the bell alerted him to the fact that someone had entered. Not immediately hearing his mother bellow for his attention, he realised it must be a customer and that his mother likely had not been outside to greet the person. Likely on another run to the outhouse. It never ceased to amaze him just how many times she had to go, the further into the pregnancy she got, though this time she seemed to need it far more often than with the other pregnancies. He sure couldn't recall her running this often when she was carrying Erland.

Quietly he peeked through the door that led out back to his tiny office. Truth be told it was no more than a re-appropriated closet that had a table and lots of shelves overhead. But it was his work space and he loved it. Crammed with books and ledgers, he spent most of his time in there, when he wasn't helping with the store, helping his mother or watching his brothers.

First thing he saw was a flash of red hair cascading down from a long ponytail. The woman was holding something in her hands that he did not recognise, making his brows furrow with curiosity. Stepping silently into the room he gave a shy cough to alert her to his presence, before speaking in a voice that was almost no more than a whisper, so very unlike his mother who was always loud, boisterous and cheery.

"May I help you, Miss?"

[Winddancer]

Berrik and "Dina"


No.

No.

No.

NO!

It didn't matter where he went and who he asked, the answer was the same. There was no work to be had anywhere. Of course it didn't help that he had no real skills in any particular area, but even the apprentice jobs were taken with a line of boys waiting to be chosen. It wasn't even that he was an orphan that put people off, so many were these days. He wasn't even old enough to join the Rangers, though he had of course tried. Now, after the war, there was no real need to enlist every abled body and they had become far more picky with whom they let in.

As Berrik slumped down onto the stairs that led to the Library, he shot a quick glance to one side and with dismay saw she was still there. Letting out a long sigh, he cradled his head in his hands, his elbows perched on his knees. He couldn't even blame her for his predicament as she usually hid when he went to ask for work, staying out of sight until he moved on.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he wondered for the umpteenth time why she kept following him. He had of course asked, though she had never spoken to him. Merely following him like she was a ghost. Clutching the ragdoll to her, the little girl seated herself just out of arms reach of him. She had been following him around for a few months now, at times he did not even notice she was there. He would share what scraps he managed to forage with her, but though he knew she was hungry, like he was, she never complained, never cried. The only time he heard her say anything, was when she would whimper in her sleep, when she had occasionally snuggled up with him on a cold night. He had even tried to yell at her to leave him alone, tried to scare her off, but nothing worked. She saw right through his ploys. He had even handed her in to the orphanage, but she escaped and found him the next day, how he could not say.

After a while he referred to her as Dina, thinking it was from the Sindarin to 'be silent'. But what did he know, he was not a scholar, in fact he could barely read and write. He had tried guessing her name, but she never responded to any of them, though she did not seem to mind Dina.

"Looks like no dinner tonight either.." He said despondantly, the girl still not answering.

OOC: Please feel free to interact with them in any kind of way you want to! Open for RP <3

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta,
with Nelladel Alarion, (Andarion), and Pele Alarion
at Nell’s Breads & Pastries


There were large portions of the City which were a medley of familiar and changed, some old streets now boasting a few new builds to replace those damaged. Some entire sections of that circle could convince you that it was not the same Minas Tirith at all, and then there were the other little corners where you felt as though you had stepped back in time. Returning to the Bakery was one of the latter for reasons which went beyond the architecture, and Addhor closed his eyes momentarily as he followed Nell over the threshold. Letting her take the lead, he had not known quite what to expect, feared the worst perhaps, out of recent experience, and found to his surprise, that everything, including the fresh aroma of baked goods was delightfully familiar. It was likely only he that had changed.

He had heard about Andarion of course, but had never met the young man in person. Which was probably due to Addhor having previously always come into the Bakery when he knew that Nell was preferably working on her own, so he would have less an audience to witness him making a fool of himself. Now he was glad to meet the young man, and glad too for the introduction, for this might just as easily have been Mourgan stood before him, and he wouldn’t have been any the wiser. By tucking his measuring tool under one arm, the Carpenter accepted the offered and he assumed, thus cleaner, hand since they had clearly caught Andarion in the midst of his work. “Very glad to meet you,” he agreed. “Now I am even more sorry to have not come by before. Though I can scarcely imagine anything baked here would stay very long upon a shelf, before eager customers come and lighten the load.”

Perhaps that was how they had been managing. For certainly the quality of those danish pastries which were pressed into his custody questioned how they had not been sold immediately. Perhaps they were not able to be displayed to their potential, and that simply would not do ! But as Nelladel clarified the issues with her shelving, Addhor was impressed by how well the Bakery had managed with what they had to work with.

“There is some room for improvement,” he admitted. “and I assume that you are happy with something of the same dimensions or similar ? I don’t want to engulf the shop with anything too cumbersome that will take space from you. There is, though, a way to secure these shelves so that they can be angled, at various although supported degrees, to better show off the contents without spilling them. You could detach, move, switch and secure them each back in place at need as well. I promise that they will be strong. We could even sit my partner on them and they’d not give at all. It would be a shame to lose your clever strategy of mix and matching,” he grinned to see the clever employment of fresh flowers that the Baker had used to hide a problem.

As she took back her basket, he was freed to take up measurements. “I’m sure we can whip something up that will suit, in not too much time at all. If you think that you can manage with these in the meantime, I don’t want to steal them and leave you nothing at all to work with.”

“You might need somebody to take a look at those tables though,” Addhor’s voice turned rather more serious as he nudged his head toward the front of the shop. Slowly he approached, although he probably was stood perfectly between Nelladel and any sight of her dozing cousin. “There is something growing on this one,” he mentioned, tapping lightly on the wood beside Pele’s head, curious to learn just how sleepy she might be.

[Isolde Alarion]

Nelladel Alarion
with Addhor, Pele
in Nells Breads and Pastries..

Holding the pastries close to her she listened to Addhor with intent. Nodding in agreement. Her attention solely on him. His ideas sounded great and it would be nice not to have to prop up the shelves or arrainge flowers all the time. The improvements would really improve the look of the whole bakery too. No one was going to buy bread from a ramshackled bakery.

"Oh I'll be fine. I've managed this long, a while more won't hurt and if it means I get to see you...uhg.." she quickly caught herself and added. "you..your..I mean your shelf ideas.." she could feel the tips of her ears burning with embarassment. "I'm sure I'll be very pleased." She offered an awkward smile.

So caught up in her own words she had to blink when he mentioned the tables. "The tables?" She was puzzled till he tapped the table and her attention went to the sleeping form of her cousin. She grinned, unable to stop herself. In a lowered tone she grinned at Addhor and spoke just between to two of them so as not to wake sleeping beauty.

"Perhaps I should open a bed and breakfast for sleepy soldiers." She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling, she wondered how long Pele had been there. Probably long enough to watch her make a fool of herself.

[The Good Hunter]

Vipsania

The Grocer

She was busy taking in the entire scene: the shelves laden with jars and bottles, the crates practically bursting with produce and fruits of all shapes and colors. The smells were incredible, a cornucopia of wild, earthy smells. Ystr came in behind her and coughed as well, trying to get the young woman’s attention. The smell broke and she looked from the seemingly endless shelves to her giant bodyguard who was pointing behind her. She whirled around and saw the young man, a shy awkward boy by the looks of him. She smiled and nodded vigorously. “I’m sure you can! But first, you should never call me ‘Miss’, that’s what he calls me,” she pointed to her bodyguard who was now standing at ease with his hands behind his back. “even though he knows I absolutely hate it. Please, call me Vipsania. What’s your name?”

She swung her gaze back to the shelves of good and absently put the violin back under her chin. Instinctively, her fingers began to skitter and bounce and slide over the catgut strings, she plucked at the strings absently rather than drawing her bow across it. The sound was stilted but jaunty and lively. “I love what you have here,” she said after a minute or so of playing. “I’m not quite sure I know what I’m looking for though,” she confessed. “I kind of came in here on a whim. I needed to get away from my mother’s constant… motherliness, if you understand my meaning.” She began to look at the foods and produce in earnest now, carefully considering them. “Tell me,” she walked over to Ystr and placed the violin in his hand, giving him a very warning finger. He nearly dropped it.

She rolled her eyes and thumped his shoulder. “Be careful Ystr!”

“Anyway,” Vipsania turned back to the proprietor. “Tell me, what would you suggest for a romantic evening? A dinner for two with food, wine, music, the whole works.”

[Winddancer]

The Grocers
Gellir

Gellir's eye went wide when the tall man entered the shop as well, his jaw dropping. He all but filled the room. Being slight and on the smaller side of average height for boys his age (though his mother kept telling him he would eventually hit a growth spurt), the man was a giant. The man's apperance and being told not to call the young lady Miss, threw him off and left him stammering for a moment before he managed a deep breath to calm himself, remembering what his mother would say when the nerves played up.

"U-uh my my name? Uhmm it's Gellir.." he muttered shyly, barely able to look at the two of them. The young boy gasped as she suddenly put the odd instrument under her chin, taking a step back as it started playing a lively tune. He thought he had heard that kind of music before, passing one of the inns on the way to the fields, but he had never stopped to listen. Mouth open in wonder, he watched as the young woman's fingers danced along the string, mesmerized by the tune. He felt himself smiling, despite his shyness, feeling as if his heart was swelling in his chest. The music was astounding, making him want to dance, to sing, to do something.

All too soon it was over, the magic of the music still ringing in his ears. "That..that was beautiful" he muttered before she started speaking. She spoke with a liveliness much like his mother, a small hint of a smile playing on his lips as he patiently listened to her. Yet again his jaw dropped as she thumped the man on his shoulder, his stomach dropping and his heart skipping a beat. He quickly eyed the man, wondering how the man would take the punch, letting out a breath of relief when he saw he was not mad.

"A what, Mi-?" He quickly swallowed the Miss, though could not make himself use her name. "I uh.. don't know what romantic is.. Is that some kind of meat? Vegetable? We have all kinds here, but never seen a romantic.."

A sudden chuckle erupted behind the large man, the young boy immediately recognising his mother's laugh. Both relieved and embarassed, his face went a bright red as his mother made her way into the store, huge belly first. Highly pregnant, in fact looking like she was ready to drop, Liriel held her belly with one hand as she greeted the young woman. "One can not just make a romantic dinner willy nilly" she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "It all depends on whether it is between strangers, lovers, newlywed or long time married.." At the last option Liriel looked at her son and winked, mortifying him.

[Eriol]

Wood Works' (Carpentry) for @Ercassie

Beren Camlost drove the wagon of timber into the yard of the Wood Works shop. He would surprise his best friend today. Beren owned a lebethron farm which once belonged to Addhor's relatives. He sold the wood to carpenters, bowyers, and shipyards of Gondor & Lindon.

One of his men could have made the supply run to the White City for Addhor but, no. Beren had missed his chum while he had been away oversea. Beren wouldn't have been seperated from Addhor if he hadn't run away from responsibility in his youth. He renewed their friendship and adored Addhor's son, Nal who looked up to him, but Beren had become withdrawn.

Unexpectedly sorrowful news jolted Beren's life into uncertaintude in a fortnight. Beren was stuck in a rut of black despair. He concentrated his attention on farm management with his daughter, Aileen, or served more Ranger patrols than necessary in Ithilien. In what little time free time he had, Beren drank excessively to the point that the strong bond he had with his teenage girl destabilized; he upset his child this morning when she discovered him on the floor of his study. He passed out the evening before in a drunken stupor. She woke him up, saying nothing, tears escaping her emerald eyes.

Nothing had gone right here in Gondor since he came back from Mel Lóna. His idealism poisoned his future. He gambled and lost. His life compass was broken, he built hedges around his heart, and his relationships were falling apart. Airien's messages ceased coming from Imladris since, he presumed, he hadn't replied to her letters; he was too embarrassed to even read her mail. Valion must have mentioned to his mother's niece why Beren was no longer living on his island...and why he chose to leave.

Knowing Aileen had given his unsent letter of request for Addhor to meet him at an inn soon, Beren had no choice to speak about what was troubling him. A wave of grief mounted over Beren. How could he stem the tide? A drink, of course...for a little while, the bottle eased his pain. Beren resisted the urge to pull the flask of Tol Noldarë pewter from the pocket of his black damask vest. "Do it for Addhor," he pressured himself, making a beeline for his mate's shop. Unfortunately, Addhor wasn't there. "Fortunately, more like..." Beren uttered, feeling some measure of relief that the inevitable was prolonged again. He took out the flask filled with Pinnath Gelin Reserve. He walked back to the wagon, took a seat at the rear of the hold, and plucked the stopper. Beren lifted the rim to his nose to savor the aroma of vanilla and caramel. He licked his lips and sipped. This bourbon whisky's rich flavors of toffee and butterscotch with subtle hints of Old Toby tobacco were addictive. The brand was a favorite of Beren and Addhor. It got them into trouble plenty of times back in the day. He drank until dissatisfaction with this unpleasant world vanished...

[Ercassie]

Narradir Korsey and Anardil ‘Warder’ Thavron
Arriving at 'Woodworks' (Carpentry)
with Beren Camlost


“This might just be the maddest idea that woman has ever had,” the forester blew air from one side of his mouth and shifted his share of the load.

“I think you’re selling her short,” the squire disagreed, increasing his pace to keep up with the larger man. He could not be named wanting himself where it came to physical exertion, it had been his life, and had twenty years of training on the coast to serve as testament, but still Narradir made shouldering the burden look far easier than Warder felt possible. “Although I might not have used the word ‘mad’,” he put in, out of loyalty to his employer.

“I said ‘maddest’,” he was reminded, and might have sighed in the face of a mad day indeed, save that their destination was, at last, in sight.


“That’s Beren Camlost” the man of Dol Amroth recognised, straightening up as the man of Minas Tirith took the entire load off him, and singlehandedly leant it against one side of the near shop. That he accomplished this with such a lack of trouble at all, Warder feared that Narradir had merely been humouring his ‘help’ all this time.

The burly forester clapped his hands together in some hope of dispelling the sawdust or the sweat, or else rouse their guest, it was hard to tell. Maybe all the three at once. “I don’t know,” he considered, flanking his new friend as the two approached the wagon. “Looks something more like seven bags of horse dung to me.” Narradir pinched his twice broken nose further out of shape (if possible) and sat down next to Beren, with a rather louder greeting than was necessary. “What ho, Camlost ?!”

Stalling close enough to guard their load and still observe the exchange, Warder peered a better glance at the dejected looking Ranger. His grey eyes hardened over the pewter flask in the man’s hand and glanced meaningfully at the full sun of mid afternoon. “Maybe we should see him sat down inside,” he suggested, without needing to glance about for what passersby might think. Narradir clearly had not put thought to such concerns himself.

“Getting a headstart are you ?” the huge man supposed, shifting where he sat beside Camlost, until he decided to stand up again. “I know you don’t have a chance to beat me, but a drinking contest will be far less fun if you can not even stand before you come to the table.”

“She did not mention there would be a drinking contest,” Warder muttered, inspecting the businessman he was supposed to have a meeting with. That there was more than one ‘Beren Camlost’ was well known. Still, he would not have recognised this one from the man who visited at Lond Col just weeks ago. "And Pele is more sensible than …"

“There will be a drinking contest,” Narradir decided, as though he had any say on the matter. “But I’ll not have you conceding to me because you’re already full as the Anduin !” He clapped Beren manfully across the back, and swiped for the flask. “Get yourselves inside,” the forester drew a small set of keys from a torn pocket and threw them at Warder, who caught them easily. “I’ll sort this lot,” Korsey assumed. "Looks like Addhor is out on works." And with that, the bulking Gondorian declared himself in charge. Warder was far more practiced in doing as he was instructed, and Beren didn't look like he was fit for making any good decisions until he'd had half a ton of hard black water poured over his head. Which was what he could expect, if he had not sorted his head out by the time that Narradir was done outside.

[The Good Hunter]

Vipsania

The Grocer

“Well, Gellir, it’s nice to meet you.” Vipsania smiled and, upon seeing the young man’s face, turned to see what he was looking at. She snorted. “Oh don’t worry about Ystr, he’s a giant teddy bear. He looks big and frightening but he’s a sweetie. Aren’t you Ystr?” The large man rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Umm, no ma’am. I’m a bodyguard hired by your mother and father to –-”

“Exactly!” Vipsania cut him off and grinned at Gellir. “Thank you so much!” She beamed with pride at the young man’s compliment. Truth be told she still considered herself a novice, even with all the lessons she’d taken over the years. Her mother and father were getting tired of it and their praise seemed more perfunctory and reactionary rather than genuine. Her mother actually told her recently that she should take up sewing. Sewing! Vipsania was not about to take up a hobby that required her to get her fingers stabbed a hundred times a day. “I love playing my violin outdoors. The world just feels like it needs music to help move it along. We have concert halls and inns and taverns, sure, but what about music for walking down the street or afternoons in the trees?” Her fingers began to itch for the want of play but she ignored it for the moment. She was about to explain what “romantic” was to the poor lad then realized there was no real definition for the word that would make any sense, none that she could put into words at least. Romantic was always about mood and how does one explain mood to another that hasn’t experienced it?

Thankfully, or maybe not, Vipsania was saved from having to explain what the word romantic meant by the arrival the proprietress. Ystr jumped out of the way, startled for half a heartbeat then readied himself as if he was going to attack the lady who was very clearly pregnant, grabbing the sword hilt at his hip and moving into a defensive stance. After a quick assessment of the situation, thankfully dropped his guard again, as well as an admonishing look from Vipsania. The woman felt the heat rising in her cheeks in a bout of sympathetic embarrassment. Parents were always meant to be embarrassing, that was part of their duty, but some liked to take it too far. Her parents were just as bad, they would call her by her full name in public and shout the most embarrassing things to her in the largest crowds and… no. that is not what she needs to be thinking about right now.

She coughed, trying to push her mortification down. “I… uh… well,” she coughed again. “The couple I was hoping to help are newlyweds, well not newly wed but still newish.”

Ystr finally realized what she was talking about and turned a bright shade of crimson. “Oh Miss… that’s… oh my… uh…”

Her sympathetic embarrassment fled, replaced by a stifled giggle and leaned in close to Gellir. “It’s going to be for him and his wife. They were so hard, and I know they don’t get many evenings off. I’m planning on giving them a night soon where they don’t have to worry or wait on anyone.”

[Winddancer]

Liriel and Gellir

Liriel raised one eyebrow, her other hand going to her belly as well when the giant of a man suddenly went for his sword. For a brief moment the reaction took her back to the war, the sounds of crashing rocks and dying scream filling her ears. As the man relaxed, so did she and only to the trained eye could one see that her hands were shaking. The slight quiver in her voice receeded far quicker than the shaking, forcing a cough to rid herself of it.

"I say, some good reflexes there.." Though she was not intimidated by him, anymore, she still moved over to her son and placed an arm around his shoulders protectively. Though embarassed about the mothering in front of the young lady, Gellir tried to convince himself that he could protect his mother, shifting ever so slightly so that he was a little bit in front of her.

Liriel's eyebrow shot up once more at the discomfort of the large man as the young lady revealed why she was here, a grin growing on her lips. Cute. Adorable even.

Gellir flinched and then wished the ground would open up and swallow him, when the young lady leaned in. He hadn't meant to flinch, but then he did not often have people suddenly leaning in conspiratorially. As the blush extended to the back of his neck, he rubbed it while trying to speak, his mouth merely opening and closing.

Liriel smiled even more at her boy's discomfort, a twinge pulling at her heartstrings. He was such a shy lad. But he had a heart of gold. Any girl would be lucky to have him for her husband, her worry was that he would be way too shy to ever ask anyone for their hand in marriage. She took a deep breath, pushing the thought aside as there was still time and turned her attention to the young woman.

"Newlyweds? Hmm.. then I suggest a hearty stew, one that can be prepared early in the morning and cook all day over low heat. It will fill the room with the smell of food and then all you need is some freshly baked bread and some good red wine. As for dessert, well.. something sweet.." At the word sweet, her eyes moved to the man, giving him a wink. "I have all the vegetables, grown in our own fields! And the wine. The butcher should have some good beef, I think he just prepared a cow yesterday."

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Nell @Isolde Alarion and Addhor @Ercassie
Nell's Breads and Pastries

The tapping on the wood somewhere very close to her seemed to fit right in with what Pele was dreaming, and she mumbled almost angrily, eyes closed, and still more asleep than awake: "Not on duty today. Find someone else."

Yet the same knock and hushed voices slowly drew her out of sleep. When Pele became more aware of herself, she began wondering vaguely why she felt so uncomfortable as if she was not in her own bed. For a while she considered making herself more comfortable and going back to sleep, yet she opened one eye to check on the surroundings. Apparently she was not in her room, and most definitely not in her bed.

With sudden realisation that she had actually come to the bakery and apparently there she was still, she sat up straight and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Uhhh... hi... I must've been tired," she offered by the way of apology to Nell and Addhor, blushing slightly with embarrassment. "Did I miss anything important?"

[Ercassie]

Ilisys Azrubêl, sort of desguised
approaching Berrik and ’Dina’@Winddancer

She walked the streets with seemingly no purpose. Still it seemed likely that there was some sort of a story there. Else why would she be bearing the long broom in her hands ?

To imagine the woman had bought it somewhere recently in the market was quite a stretch of the imagination. For one thing, it did not look at all new. For another, the way that she held the thing, and the way she held herself in fact, seemed like she would have people in her service to bother about brooms, so that she did not need to.

Of course, that was in fact the purpose which had brought her here. Eyes had caught sight of them. Ears had heard the much repeated question that seemed to drive them. The woman who had begun the day with no purpose, had found one, and yet it remained to be seen if that purpose would have anything to do with her.

The boy, or rather, young man, though he looked yet rather years off being considered a man .. it mattered not. He, it seemed, mattered not too much to the many and countless folks who passed about their day. Which caught her absolute attention. By the time she had obtained the broom, she worried he might have obtained an alternative. And even though it seemed, now that she had found him again, that he had not .. he still might not wish to humour her.


“Can you manage one of these ?” she wondered, aloud, approaching Berrik, head tilted, broom brandished, rather haphazardly. The lady’s dark hair spilt out of the hood she had drawn up about her head, to avoid gathering much notice herself. It had gained far more notice than she had wished, since she now looked like she was pretending to be not what she was. Which she was. Ilisys drew her fingers, fidgeting, through the dark cord lacing which shaped her rich, cerulean underdress. Under the nondescript cloak, which looked quite plainly out of keeping with what it was trying to conceal.

“Any shopkeeper will be glad to have the street where their livelihood stands, looking fair to those who might then shop there,” she proposed the opinion to the young man. It seemed as though she thought the conversation was important, though there was no reason why he might glean so as yet. The lady glanced around him nonetheless, to smile, sincerely, at the sight of the small girl behind. “No time, they say, to train up an apprentice, no time, they say, to clean their own stoop. Brooms can clean stoops. Bakers give up bread as thankyou, grocers, the odd apple. They can afford that much. Not an apprentice though. Not to them.”


The last word was the one which gained the heaviest emphasis from her soft tone. Plucking idly at dried mud which failed to properly disguise the extravagant fabric, Ilisys watched the young pair as though she had never seen people before. She held out the broom still, with an unshaking arm though she had held it there aloft between them for some time already, as though it ought to explain her intention. It would have a hard job. She was so often misunderstood, genuine motives passed up, by the cynical and the suspicious.

“I knew a boy once. A young man, sorry,” the lady flashed large grey eyes at Berrik and ’Dina’. “He told me that brushing the streets of the White City made him ..” she whispered the word, with a glance to see if anyone might be listening, “invisible.” If there were those who would suspect she was trying to talk down to children, they knew this lady not one bit. She was entirely serious. “He overheard many people, many things,” she continued and then sighed. “I do not have time to lay my ears and eyes around these streets. I have more than a bread roll to offer though as a reward, more than an apple. I like to hear who goes where, who does what. Who says which, and to whom they do. Training worthy of a would-be Ranger. That young man, he is a Ranger now.”


She took a tiny step forward, and repeated the offer of the modest looking broom. “Can you manage one of these ?” she wondered aloud. “If I can manage to make it worth your while ?”




******************************************************************

Addhor Raxëlilta,
with Nelladel Alarion, (@Isolde Alarion) and with @Pele Alarion
at Nell’s Breads & Pastries

She joined him, stood beside the table, and also in a grin of some amusement as they observed the oblivious Alarion together.

“It appears that you may have done so, without ever meaning to.” he leant in towards Nelladel and whispered back quietly, so not to disturb Pele. “I suppose it is a better infestation than say, mice, would be. To have Rangers in your debt is .. well.” For a moment, he stalled there longer than he ought to have, toying whether he should say something further to reassure the baker. She had clearly found their interacting awkward just moments before. But how exactly he could improve on this, when he was just as prone to stumbling over the loose foundations of their revolved friendship, he was none the wiser. It seemed safer to say naught and embarrass neither of them any longer. They had already overcome breaking the ice this day. Best not to push the fates by hoping they would manage more so quickly. He was very grateful for what remained of their acquaintance.

Pele’s mutterings saved the show with her amusing interlude at that point, thankfully. “And there is that formidable attitude which lets us humble citizens sleep safely, in our beds.” Addhor could no longer restrain his laugh, at the tired woman’s mumble, though he did try to rein it in to some hope of politeness. “Serving with soldiers and patching up patients as well ? It is small wonder you are exhausted, Pele” he greeted the sleepy woman with a gesture of justification. “Perhaps you have missed the magic of your cousin’s marvellous coffee ?” he suggested, as he sought to press a shiny coin into the baker’s soft hand. After the assistance that the Master Healer had allowed him some while ago, he owed her a favour. At least a drink.

“Alas, it seems by taking all your time, I am driving your poor customers to fall asleep while waiting for their turn,” the Carpenter blushed before Nelladel. One final time. “I have, well, yes, things to be getting on with,” he brandished his measuring tool as an alibi, as ever, as if it was fooling anyone. “Thank you,” he bid his friend, and did not know where to go from there, and so stopped. For the sake of all. “For always the reason to return,” he almost added, but assumed by now that she knew, so he had no reason to speak that. Quite how he had kept from visiting her bakery and all that it offered, seemed so silly now. To do so any longer would now be impossible. The same work which had kept his head elsewhere had now literally brought him back. Work for the baker, and for the metalsmith, her neighbour ..

“Ladies,”, he ducked his head, and left the women to their matters. He had many matters of his own to be getting on with, and more now than before. To delay could see him never even start, unless he did so straight away.

[The Good Hunter]

Vipsania and Ystr

The Grocer’s

Vipsania stifled a laugh. More accurately, she tried to stifle a laugh, the resulting effort was more along the lines of an aborted giggled and snort. She had to admit that she enjoyed watching Ystr squirm. He might be built like an oak tree, but there were certain situations he found himself in that made him look like a newly besweatered kitten.

Vipsania was making mental notes about the stew, looking around the store itself to see if there were any vegetables that jumped out at her immediately with ideas. Having very little experience in the culinary arts, however, Vipsania found both too many ideas and too few. She saw what she thought was squash, creamy white and shaped like a bell, some oats spilling out of clay jug, and a wide assortment of carrots, mushroom, onions, and garlic. She nodded satisfactorily. The additions of wine and beef almost made her mouth water. How long had it been since she’d eaten? In her head, she counted back the hours to a scant breakfast of oatmeal and fruit before running back to her music room to dance and play her violin.

“That would be so wonderful!” She said after a moment’s consideration. She did notice the wink the proprietress gave Ystr, who began to helplessly babble and stutter while doing his best to look at anything in the store without looking at her. “Oh you mustn’t tease him too much! He’ll like to turn to jelly or something.” She paused, considering the situation. “But some teasing is a must!” her smile was impish.

“I… Miss… well… um… I think it would be best,” he looked at older woman again and his face bloomed crimson, “it would be best if I waited for you outside? That way I could…” he trailed off, his eyes darting madly back and forth between the store and the outside. Finally defeated, he slipped out the door, banging his shoulder hard against the door frame in his haste.

Left alone, Vipsania crossed her arms and began to survey to contents of the store in earnest. She was going to need to do this all under Zoë’s nose, a difficult task for her already, while making sure that Ystr didn’t spill the beans. “Gellir,” she called giving the young man an appraising look. “You seem like the kind of man that knows his sweets. What would you say is your favorite? Something I can either make without my head chef knowing what I’m doing, or where I can sneak in and buy it? In fact!” she grinned and took him by the arm. “Why don’t you escort me to the bakery, and you can tell on the way? I’ll leave Ystr here so your mother can torture him for a while. How does that sound?” she looked to his mother. “How about a trade for an hour or so?”

[Winddancer]

Berrik and "Dina"

His backside had started to hurt, the stairs to the Library anything but comfortable. At least the old man hadn't chased them off today like he usually did when he saw them. Probably sleeping, Berrik mused to himself as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes with his dirty hands. "So.. where should we sleep tonight, hm?" He asked of Dina, giving her a questioning look. She merely looked back at him, not responding.

"We could go see if the Blacksmith is out? Maybe his forge is still warm?" Rubbing at his chin and deeping the smudge there, he continued without expecting a response from the girl. "Not the baker's though, I don't think I can handle the smell of bread today" he said as his stomach rumbled loudly. "Or we can go an see if the rats have cleared out of the empty building?" He looked at her hopefully, though doubted the rats would have left.

“Can you manage one of these ?”

Half getting up, half still sitting, Berrik paused and gaped at the woman before him. Was she joking? His eyes dropped to the broom to make sure there wasn't something special about it that might require some special skill, but all he saw was an ordinary broom. Dropping back down to the stair, he frowned and said "I'm not an idiot! Of course I know how to use a broom," before pushing himself up to his feet. Though younger than the woman who was still holding out the broom towards him, he was at least far taller, though the stair he stood on helped.

He was about to walk off when she continued, making him pause once more. Though what she said made sense, the fact that she was offering him a broom was, well just odd and he couldn't help by eye her suspiciously. He did not make to take the broom, but she seemed undeterred, still holding it out towards him as she spoke of what he could use it for and how he could use it to get them some food. Without knowing it he scratched at his hair, glancing over at the girl to his side, though she was looking at the woman and not him.

He was about to ask what the catch was when the woman continued, looking around to see if anyone was listening. And as she leaned forward to whisper, he unwittingly leaned in as well, his heart beating just a little bit faster than before. Spy on people? His brows crinkled into a frown as he looked back at Dina and then eventually shrugged. Though he was trying, he really couldn't see a downside to the offer. Either way he would be getting a broom and he would at least be able to try what she was suggesting and if that didn't work he could always try and sell it. Though the thought of her paying more than a roll or an apple was admittedly incredibly tempting.

He was about to reach out and take the broom when he heard Dina shifting behind him and paused, instead crossing his arms before his chest. "And just how will you make it worth my while? She needs to eat too.."

***

Gellir and Liriel

Gellir had never before in his young life seen a goldfish, but he still mimicked one perfectly as the young woman bargained with his mother to take him off to the bakery and looped her arm into his. His gaping mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out, the terror in his eyes making his mother chuckle. Cupping his chin gently, she gave him a loving look, though spoke to the young woman. "Gellir would love to go help you, he has quite the sweet tooth.." she said and mouthed 'you got this' to her boy.

Flustered and face growing red, Gellir wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his eyes darting back longingly at the accountant book that he had been working on as Vipsania began to move him towards the door. "I uh..I need.. mum??" But there was no help to be found from Liriel, giving him an encouraging smile as she added. "Don't forget to show the apple pie, you love that one.."

Rubbing at her large belly, Liriel chuckled as the two of them headed out and called out as they left. "I will gather a bag of vegetables and other stuff needed for your stew and have it ready for when you get back. I am sure your man there can help me reach the hard to reach shelves.." she said with another chuckle and a wink.

[Isolde Alarion]

Nells Breads and Pastries
Nelladel Alarion w/ Addhor & Sleepy Pele

With her arms still holding the pastry basket she looked down at the sleepy Pele and nodded with a smile at seeing Pele. When Addhors words caught in midair she cast a smile at him, understanding the pause but she was glad to see the rousing Pele and joined Addhor in laughter when he commented on the steadfastness of Rangers. It felt good to laugh and she found his humor suited her own.

Nell sat aside the danishs and agreed some coffee might do the Ranger some good but feeling the press of coin in her hand she looked at Addhor. It wasn't necessary but she got the feeling it more about something owed then simply paying for her coffee so she took the coin and held it in her closed hand. He was bidding his goodbyes so she smiled and casually walked him to the door.

"I thank you Addhor, I'm already looking forward to seeing those new shelves in place. " She spoke and then he ducked his head in goodbye and he was gone. She found herself taking a moment to watch the woodworker. "Fine man he is, aye Pele?" she more stated then asked as she forced herself to turn back to her cousin, the coin he'd slipped into her hand now slipped into her apron pocket.

"So Pele, how about that coffee? I have fresh honeycake too.." A mischivious smile lit up her green eyes.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Nell and (escaping) Addhor
Nell's Breads and Pastries

"Well... someone's got to do the job," she responded to Addhor's reasoning for her sleepiness and thought that it was surely part of it, but at least she had managed some precious minutes of undisturbed peace and rest. Watching the two as Addhor made his leave, Pele suppressed a yawn and tried to get her bearings to look more or less acceptable.

With a bit of a stretch and shoulder roll to chase away the remaining sleep, the Ranger watched her cousin with a grin. "That he is, I agree," she noted, a knowing look in her eye, though she did not press on to discuss the matter any further.

"Coffee and some cake would be nice for a bit of additional energy," she agreed to the offer. Since she no longer remembered why she had come here in the first place, might as well just enjoy being here, some tasty goods and a good company all in one.

[Isolde Alarion]

Nell w/ Pele
Nells Bread & Pastries

She smiled wide hearing Pele agree to some honey cake and coffee. “I knew you couldn’t resist.” She chuckled as she stepped past her to retrieve the cake. Patting her lightly on the shoulder.
“You must tell me what you think about this new coffee.” Her voice carried from the back of the bakery as she poured two cups and prepared a tray of honey cake. “I’m not sure it’s for everyone but I know you’ll be honest with me about it. “
Gently she carried the somewhat large platter with its steaming beverages and layers of golden sliced cake. Gingerly she sat it on the table where they were to sit. She served Pele her coffee and herself then put the cake between them. “Ohh! I forgot some plates!” She went to hurry to the back but suddenly stopped and quirked a brow at her dear cousin.
“I expect most of that cake to still be there when I return.” She teased her with a grin.
Once more she pushed back the curtain to the back room. “ So tell me Pele! How fare the Rangers?”
She appeared with two plates and forks and sat opposite Pele. “I don’t hear much, Mourgan has become rather tight lipped in his old age” a momentary look of worry crossed her features as she handed Pele a plate.

[Ercassie]

Ilisys Azrubêl, sort of desguised
engaging with Berrik and ’Dina’ @Winddancer
on the Streets

He wasn’t an idiot and he knew how to use a broom already. The defensive tone was immaterial and not entirely unexpected. Two important answers had been given there. The young man was what was required. That was all that mattered although, all things considered, recognition of his concern for the little girl he had alluded to, .. that was no bad thing to learn either. It spoke well of his character. He still cared, for something. For someone. He was not too far gone.

That wary glance though, So he knew how to do what she was proposing, but he wanted to be sure. She supposed that after receiving so many disappointments, he was doubtful of some thing which sounded too good to be true.

Ilisys crossed her own arms in return, having laid the broom against the library’s stone steps.

“You are an intelligent one aren’t you ?” she supposed, stepping in and scrutinising Berrik better, then Dina. The young man seemed to have answered his own question, whether he knew it or no; for clearly the welfare of the girl would make it worth his while.

“Ask then. Anything. Any .. one .. thing. And it shall be yours. By the end of this day,” she put the question to his keen mind and presented a new round of challenge. For this sort of answer would be all the more telling. “Or else I am a liar, and you have no need to trust me,” the hooded lady shrugged. She shrugged and she waited. She shrugged and she waited .. and she wondered ..