The story you are about to read is true. Only the actual events, dialog, details and situation have been changed to protect the sensible.
Thank you,
Xan, Madame Artiste
Xanderian sat on horseback at the edge of the Market Square, watching a very strange cavalcade spill into the broad empty space right under the stern nose of Second Watcher Heathstraw.
Any number of heavily laden mules, ponies, sickly horses, carts large and small and harnessed goats as well as one curious contraption that seemed to be a small wagon powered by rotating two large gears with your feet, surrounded the three large bronze effigies of vomiting boars and began to unload. The effect was not unlike the fall of Osgiliath, but reenacted for children by halflings and trained dogs.
The elleth huntress was not alarmed by this apparent invasion by badly disguised orcs, as criers had been roaming Bree for the better part of the morning announcing the coming of the regular Craft Fair to the Market Square…but no warning could have prepared Xanderian for the reality that burst forth before her.
Despite herself, she found herself quietly entranced by the spectacle as the artisans, tradespeople and hucksters quickly and quite boisterously created a loose collection of stalls and market tables, and were soon laying out all manner of goods, great and small. She had seen such artisan fairs in Imladris as a girl but they had always been stately, dignified, somewhat pretentious affairs. This was more like a broken down circus, but without the trapeze.
As the trade and barter began Xanderian swung off her horse and began to carefully peer about. As she moved through the rapidly growing crowd she felt disapproving eyes upon her as she usually did in Bree, but she took little notice of it as Heartbreaker, the bow across her back, growled petulantly. She noted one artisan, a vendor of fishing poles, stare in a silent rage at the graceful points of her ears as the showed through her jet black hair. “Unnatural they are...” he muttered to himself, unaware that the elleth’s well-honed senses could hear every word. “It should at least have the decency to wear a hood so as not to afear decent folk…”. For a moment Heartbreaker gave the huntress a vision of the woodworker with an arrow tacking his tongue to his fishing pole, but she the dismissed the image, laughing guiltily.
In truth, Xanderian usually avoided such public gatherings in Bree, and the longer she remained in the town as Fille convalesced from her travails with the Dwarves, the less comfortable she became. Still, this gathering seemed that it would be low key and hospitable, and had tempted her for many reason, but the main one at least for the moment was printed on the cheap flyer she held in her hand. It advertised a stall that sold “Essences, scents and candles to sweeten the air and brighten the day, hand crafted by E. Oatmiller.” And after a time she spied what must be the stall, thought the proprietress, an elderly though spry Breeland woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, was in the middle of purchasing several buckets of what appeared to be boiled animal fat from a rugged looking woodsman. Once the odiferous transaction was complete and the woman had stowed the reeking buckets away without batting an eye, Xanderian made to step forward but was checked by a little person who asked the older woman about lavender scent.
“Excellent,” thought Xanderian, “this is just what I desire and as the little folk love comfort and decadence, then my instinct may indeed by correct.”
The reason Xanderian was braving the fair for such fripperies was due to the fact that as the day of departure for Rohan grew nearer, she had detected a slow change in her beloved Cyndwin’s manner. She was becoming more and more nervous and concerned regarding the trip itself, which the elleth knew very well was to mask her honest trepidation at facing her family again. Therefore the huntress had resolved to purchase some simple creature comforts for the Shieldmaiden to make the long trip less stressful and to remind her that she was loved…and this seemed to be ideal.
Soon the little person returned to her own stall, which Xanderian noted sold cured meats, which would surely please Cyndwin. She filed that away to be her next stop and at last stood before the person who must indeed be E. Oatmiller and cleared her throat. The elderly woman looked her up and down, an armored elf in a square full of simple Breelanders with a bow across her back that seemed to be humming to itself. E. Oatmiller’s only reaction was the lifting of one eyebrow, and even that was not overly high.
“I beg your pardon noble tradeswoman, but I presume you must be the one called Oatmiller and I have sought you out so as to purchase scents of a delicate feminine nature. I humbly crave your attention to this matter.” Xanderian smiled, in what she hoped was a pleasant, soothing, Bree-like manner. She failed, but it was close….and as she mentioned that she was seeking perfumes, the woman’s most expensive wares, Xanderian likely could have had dead puppies draped in lifelike poses around her shoulders, the woman would still have been civil about it.
Smiling pleasantly, but not too pleasantly, the woman spoke in a soft, local drawl. “I am Lissabeth Oatmiller and I do indeed have any number of exotic scents, lavender and rose and wild rosemary and even rare Alfirin, that would suit a…umm…lady such yourself.”
Xanderian laughed…”Oh..no, it is not for myself…but for a woman dear to my heart that needs cheering.”
The woman nodded. “For a sister then?”
Xanderian blinked, thinking of Xandilif wearing lavender scent and nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity, but then realized that this woman could surely not know of the Banshee as she still lived and did not appear to have been harmed in any way recently, so she controlled herself. “Well...No…but this lady is ..ummm…very LIKE a sister to me, in all the finest, most tender ways...and more.”
“Whoever. Tis no business of mine.” The woman began to carefully open small crystal bottles for the elleth to test…and began to note in some pleasure that the Huntress was setting aside more than just a single bottle to purchase, but six in all, including two bottles of her dearest, the Alfirin scents for 25 pennies each! When the elleth then asked for two dozen scented candles, the woman realized this single purchase equaled what she had made in several fairs, maybe more. She was now even more careful not to lose this fish, even when Xanderian asked for the bottles to be carefully packed for travel, which required buying a box from another vendor.
When the 11 silver coins were finally placed in the woman’s hand she smiled warmly to herself, and began closing up shop as there was no need to continue for the day and she had earned a celebration.
Xanderian didn’t notice the woman’s sudden departure as she followed the path the little person who sold meat had taken back to her booth, to discover…two little people in conversation.
“Oh no…this is MOST unfair, you play a game with me. Which of you are the one that I seek, or perhaps neither of you are. Please tell me that you are not both of the same gender. Would it not be easier if one of you had worn a hat?” exclaimed the elleth as the two halflings simply stared at her.
One Halfling, a pretty young woman dressed in green, found her voice first. “Well that depends what you seek. My name is Pansyblossom and I sell fine local sausage both fresh and cured as well as soup and other victuals, and this is Miss Perridotti and she sells pies.”
The elleth nearly sighed with relief, hardly noticing the other Halfling, dressed in blue, curtsying unsteadily. “Meat is what I seek, little one dressed in green. Meat for a long journey.” As she heard this the Halfling called Perridotti looked crestfallen, wondering if traveling all the way from the Shire for this fair was wise after all.
The sausage vendor smiled. “Call me Pansy, Miss…and let me show you what I have for sale.”
Xanderian nodded. “Thank you little one in green.” The Halfling sighed and let it go, and soon she had sold the elleth six pounds of various sausage. For a moment she wondered if what the legends said are true and the secret elven strongholds deep in the dark forest were indeed filled with gold.
As Miss Pansyblossom wrapped up the sausages, whistling to herself, Xanderian noted the sad figure of Miss Perridotti still trying to attract passing custom but now more weakly, clearly growing more frustrated, and made her way to her pie stall. “I do beg your pardon, but are you quite sure you are not the other little person?”
The halfling was not sure how to take this, and after wondering if she should be offended, answered directly. “I am sure that she and I are two different people…yes.”
Xanderian nodded. “Excellent then, little one in blue. I would like to purchase these pies of which you speak, assuming them to indeed be edible, for I have left both Cyndwin and our new friend, dear Gretal, exhausted and asleep before the fire in the library and Fille no doubt could do with more to eat to regain her strength, safe in her Mentor's care.” This was of course all just babbling to the Halfling, but at that point, Miss Perridotti would have listened to any sort of big folk babbling and smiled to make a sale.
Finally after debating the merits of various fruits, Xanderian settled on four pies, but when she saw how joyous the little one in blue was at the sale, she doubled the order to eight pies. After all, who knew how hungry the other women would be after their exertions. The halfling’s merry demeanor as she saw nearly all her stock sold in one fell swoop did not disappoint the elleth, and soon she was departing with enough pie, sausage and scent to provision a small, but sweet smelling, army.
As she drifted back towards the Pony, having enlisted poor Nob and his barrow to lug home the eight large pies, the two halflings watched her go.
Miss Perridotti leaned close to Miss Pansy as she happily waved to the departing huntress, hoping her voice could not be overheard. “Are ALL the big folk customers around here that strange?”
Miss Pansy shook her head. “No, she was a caution, even to me and I am used to the big folk…but then she IS an elf I believe, after all.”
Miss Perridotti nodded. “Goodness....a REAL ELF! Ahhh…well that would explain it then.”
The little one in blue watched the dark armored figure disappear over the hill and sighed. "Well THAT will be a story to tell the grandchildren."
