Spicing Things Up

by: Niami Denmother

(Last week)

"What do ye mean, ye don't have any spices frae sale? Jus' what sort
o' establishment are ye running here, anyway?" The diminutive
flame-haired halfling peered up at Trid Skinstainer, who stared down
his nose at her while fingering his lip ring. "This style="font-style: italic;">is the
main spot for craftsmen in th' Willow Wood, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, you pint-sized anklebiter! Now why don't you just
toddle back to Baubbleshire, where you belong, and ..." Whatever else
the snotty half elf was going to say was cut off, as Niami whipped
her rolling pin out of a sack and hit him soundly.


Startled, the man jumped so high that his spiky blonde mohawk got
tangled in the latticed ceiling above him, leaving him hanging in the
air, feet dangling to just within reach of the rolling-pin wielding

"Where I belong?! Where I BELONG?!", eyes narrowed, the tiny halfling
glared up at the halpless merchant, prodding his feet with the
rolling pin for extra emphasis.

 "I'd nae anklebite ye, ye o'ergrown
lummox!  An' do ye know why I will use th' rolling pin o' Doom on
ye instead of jus' a simple little bite?  Do ye?"
"Owowowow! Why you little...!"

Once again, small arms that were well-muscled from years of mixing
and rolling out dough wielded the rolling pin with painful precision.


"Because ..." {poke} "... I'd need ..."
{prod} "...
SPICES ..." {poke} "... tae make someone like ye
e'en remotely palatable frae any self-respecting


"Besides, I
prefer tae bite
kneecaps!" This last was followed by a flurry of pokes, prods and
thwaps from the irate redhead.

With each word, her voice had raised a bit, until all sounds of
industrious crafting at the equipment stopped dead as the various
crafters covered their ears at the sounds of 'Mum in full shout.

Silence, punctuated by incoherent gurgles and whimpers from Trid,
reigned, as the irate DenMother left him hanging there, and stomped
her way up the stairs. Advancing on the counter, she hopped up to
stand on it, patting the now-cowering Tamera Brinebringer gently on
the shoulder.

Her tone was gentle, nearly dulcet, as she cooed at the taskmaster
for the craftsmen of the area. "There, now, laddybuck, there's a guid
fellow, now.  We don't need a repeat o' th' unpleasantness
downstairs, do we?"

"N-N-no, m'am, w-we d-don't, b-but we d-don't have ..."

His nervous babbling was cut off, as she spoke again, patting the
rolling pin fondly.  "Guid lad. So, th' next time ye gi' me a task
tae make summat that needs spices, or flour, or such, ye'll nae be
expecting me tae run o'er tae th' wholesaler tae buy it,
right?  Ye'll have it frae sale downstairs, where it should be?"

He turned green, gulped and nodded nervously, not trusting his voice.

"That's settled, then. I'll be takin' a couple o' days off frae some
personal business, but when I return next week, I'll look forward tae'
shopping downstairs."  With an impish grin, she scampered up
the stairs, and headed towards North Qeynos.

Fast as little halfling legs could travel, news traveled faster - 'Mum
had a halfling hissyfit and was on the warpath.

A nervous barbarian representative from the Ironforge exchange, met her
before she could enter that fine establishment. "'Mum, I mean Miss
DenMother m'am. We heard you were -, I mean, how nice to see you! We've
had a slight supply problem with dwarves buying out a lot of the
provisioning supplies for some sort of drunken feast day next week.
We've been assured it is only a temporary supply issue, and we will be
fully stocked with the proper supplies before you are back from your
vacation and performing writs for us once again.
OhpleasedonthurtmeImonlythemessenger, pleasepleaseohplease." Heplaced
his hands protectively below his waist as he realized that his height
meant that the rolling pin was at just the right height to injure his
... pride.

An impish gleam in her eyes, she reached out and patted his leg,
that he didn't flinch ... much ... at the gesture.

"There, there, lad.  I understand, it's nae yuir fault. I'll check
back wi' ye next week."

A gusty sigh of relief whistled a couple feet above her head from the
large fellow, as the pint sized woman turned to go.

"Oh, an' laddybuck?" she called over her shoulder, voice lilting with

He was proud that his voice only trembled a little. "Yes'm?"

"Find yuirself a kilt, lad.  I do SO love th' sight o' a bonnie
barbarian's kneecaps ...."

(Earlier today)

Humming a happy tune, Niami wandered into Nature's Bounty, surprised
see the place totally devoid of people. A note, addressed to Niami
DenMother, was sitting on the counter, atop a stack of seasonings and
spices. It read:

Dear Ms. DenMother,

Mister Skinstainer is currently
on sick leave, recovering from ankle and knee injuries. We decided that
was a good time for us to take a day off to celebrate the Brew Day
festival. We apologize for not being here upon your return, and hope
that you will accept these various provisioning supplies as a token
of our utmost respect. Additionally, we will be switching to a new
writ system sometime in the near future, and would like to invite you
to test it out for us. Just make whatever you want and leave it for
us. We'll be happy to reward you for it later.

"Och! Ye'd think they were afraid tae be in th' same room as harmless
little me or summat! Well, mayhaps I'll jus' make up a wee bit o' my
trail mix an' leave it frae them.  After all, they should nae
drink on an empty stomach!  Shame aboot th' Skinstainer lad. I
wonder how he got hurt ...?"

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Last Updated: Mar 13, 2016