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The Shopkeeper's Daughter

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Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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"...and the Arch-Priest raised up his voice. 'Lord Fendin, let the coronation commence!' I placed upon each of their royal heads an identical crown of dwarfish gold. And the people cheered in jubilation until dawn!"

"Oh grandpa, you're not telling one of your long whimsical tales again, are you? I really don't know where you get them all from. Children, do not believe a word of it! Come on, you old timer, I'm shutting up the place now."

It was a small shop, the type that sells all kinds of things you couldn't imagine actually needing, like bright red string, nets with an open hole at the narrow end, dusty iron figurines of indeterminate shape and poles slightly too short to serve as useful walking sticks. It was the kind of place where you generally wondered how it stayed in business and when the last customer might have come in that had actually bought something. It was the kind of place that was full of comfortable secrets.

The young woman who had just spoken, fair of hair and skin and with a twinkle in her dusky blue eyes, strode across the open space in the middle of the otherwise-cluttered room, her simple russet skirts swishing as she went, and reached for the shaking hand of the old man sitting on a stool against the counter. Amid well-mannered protestations from a cluster of half a dozen young children, she helped her stooped grandfather gently from his seat and guided him to the door of their private quarters.

11-Feb-2012 05:56:48 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:31:40 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

Posts: 3,790 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
"Oh I can manage, Emmy my dear," said the elderly man in a croaking but warm voice, "if you'd be so good as to just hand me my cane. Until next time, dear children! Do you have today's takings, Emmy? Remember to lock the door."

"Of course, grandpa. You know I always do."

Shuffling to his feet and taking the well-worn mahogany cane offered by Emmy, his threadbare velvet robes swept the floor about him as he made his way slowly to the rear door. Emmy smiled at him fondly as he scuffed along. His furrowed, white-haired brow, thick moustache and long, cascading beard obscured his facial expressions to all but those who knew him best, but she knew he was smiling back in his own way.

With a solid click she locked the front door and turned to take care of business behind the oaken counter.

It was well known in the port town of Rellekka that Old Fendin of the general store was a storyteller. He had been known for it for as long as anyone could remember, and while he no longer ran the shop himself, his reputation for telling a good yarn had only improved, as if it were a fine Kandarin wine, with age. It was probably this fact which, if the truth be known, contributed to people coming into Fendin's small store and therefore making the occasional purchase, more than anything else. Yet business was undeniably slow. So while Emmy put a brave face on it and never spoke directly to her grandfather about such concerns, she knew that their debts were slowly growing and that their way of life could not stay the same for very much longer.

11-Feb-2012 05:57:27 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:31:07 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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Emmy loved her grandfather more than anything or anyone else in the world. He was the only family she had ever known, and her single purpose was to keep him comfortable in his twilight years, treasuring every moment with him as she always had. She had known for a long time that the shop would eventually have to be sold, but she had resolved to not even contemplate such an action until Fendin had passed on. He had lived his whole life in these rooms. She always thought that she would settle the estate as best she could after he was gone, sell everything off and maybe find serf work at the docks or in the fields until any outstanding debts were paid. But, bless the old man to his very soul, despite being so decrepit and stooped in body, he seemed timeless as if he was planning to live forever.

Lost in these unsettling thoughts, Emmy popped open the rusty cash box from the till drawer and sighed at the meagre contents within. Accounting the few coins would not take long tonight. She would soon have to discuss their situation with Fendin; there was no other way. He would probably be sorely disappointed that she had not confided in him a long time ago, but he would also understand that she was only trying not to weigh him down with problems that an old man such as he should not be saddled with.

11-Feb-2012 05:57:50 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:25:49 by Dreamweaver

Borna Coric

Borna Coric

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Someone call for Dream! His name has been stolen and someone is writing in his stead!

I expected nothing less from you, Dream. Seamlessly woven rhythmically and just enough wordiness.

I look forward to more. Assuming there will be more. I demand so.

11-Feb-2012 14:06:09

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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Over the next few weeks life in the little shop continued much as it always had. Emmy would open the doors for business the same time each morning, which was also her time to clean and organise the place as best she could. Her grandfather would make his way downstairs an hour or two later to join her and they'd talk to the few customers that came in or simply chat to each other as they puttered around, arranging things. It might not be the idea of a great life to everyone but to Emmy it was idyllic. At least, it should have been idyllic. She carefully left her growing financial concerns hidden.

"Em, my dear," Fendin said from behind a pile of glass jars of doubtful use, "it has been a quiet morning. Let us close the doors, put the sign in the window and take a long lunch. You look tired."

"Tired, grandpa? Why, I'm absolutely fine. As happy as ever."

"I wasn't questioning your happiness, love, though of course you knew that was what I meant. You're worried. It's as clear to me as these butterfly jars."

For emphasis he held one of them aloft in his shaking hand, peering through it to where Emmy was standing.

"Actually clearer. Oh dear, I did a poor job of dusting them didn't I? Anyway, I insist. It is time I told you a story."

To some, the idea of closing up a struggling shop in order to sit and tell stories might not sound like the wisest of moves, but Fendin rarely said anything that was not worth listening to. The whole town knew that, and Emmy most of all. She popped her head out of the front door for a second to check the street for potential customers, ducked back in, locked the door and flipped sign in the front window to "closed". Then they headed back together to their kitchen behind the shop. Fendin settled into his worn pine chair while Emmy prepared some food.

11-Feb-2012 19:50:16 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:30:09 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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"The tea will be ready in a minute, grandpa. How about a lefsi with your salad today?"

"Wonderful, my dear. I think this is just the occasion for it."

Pine tea was a common drink in the area. Rellekkans would collect pine needles from the local trees and boil them in water to create a pungent woody brew. One of Emmy's better ideas was to harvest those needles in quantity, strip them from their twigs and wash them all in bulk, then tie them into small linen bags. When the entire bag was dipped into boiling water the tea infused just as well as ever, but the bag could be removed so there was no danger of inhaling the needles along with the liquid. It was a big success in the shop a couple of years prior when Emmy introduced her invention to the town. People would buy them by the boxful and then return the used linen squares when they came in for their next batch. But as time went by more and more people starting using similar methods to filter their own tea at home, thus saving both money and trips to the store. A few people still bought the original "tea bags" from the little shop for convenience, but it was not the profit-spinner it had once been.

The lefsi, a local pancake-like pastry made from potatoes, flour and other local ingredients thrown together as the seasons dictated, was an ancient recipe and not of Emmy's invention. But it was very popular in the area. She liked to treat herself and her grandfather to one every so often. Today, just the aroma billowing around her head as she pulled it from the oven gladdened her heart and lightened her mood. She resolved that today would be the day to tell Fendin exactly how things fared with the shop. She would hear Fendin's story and then they would work everything out together just as they always had with everything in life.

11-Feb-2012 19:50:45 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:40:05 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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Emmy divided the lefsi in two, served the salad and poured their tea. Then she took her seat opposite Fendin at the table and began to eat. An uncharacteristic silence enveloped the small room as they had their lunch, both wrapped in their own thoughts, but finally Fendin settled back from the table and spoke.

"Thank you for lunch, Em. Delicious as always. Now, I don't have to tell you that I am well known for my stories, all of which are purposefully fantastic. But I pull into every one sincere and factual truths, except that I leave the listener to make up his or her own mind as to what is real and what is not. But for you today am I going to share a story that I have never before told in full. And I promise to you that every word of it is absolutely true."

With that, the old man leaned forwards into his familiar storyteller's pose and began.

11-Feb-2012 19:51:01 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:41:46 by Dreamweaver

Dreamweaver
Aug Member 2003

Dreamweaver

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"As you know, Rellekka's economy depends almost completely on the sea; fishing and trading mostly, but also a certain amount of smuggling and piracy. My story starts a number of years ago in this very town when a young couple, Markus and Ellena, had just married amid great happiness and festivity. The union was between two less affluent families, but still they were able to set the newly-weds up with enough for them to acquire a small fishing boat of their own.

"Both Markus and Ellena were hard-working and astute, and so it was that over the next two years they diversified their little fishing business into clams, seaweed harvesting and lobster-potting, all with a fair degree of success. They traded their vessel up more than once in that time until at last they were proud owners of a stout trader whom they named Reisende, which means Traveller in the old tongue.

20-Feb-2012 20:06:48 - Last edited on 24-Jan-2013 04:43:36 by Dreamweaver

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