"Well, it is not every day legends walk into my shop, so I suppose it would
not do to disappoint them. Unless I can turn your interest to blades or
bows?" Margaretta asked, not really expecting to get her way. Sure enough,
the elf---Master Legolas, she supposed she should think of him now---shot
her a determined look. The dwarf---that would be Master Gimli, must get
those names correct---laughed uproariously.
"You ARE a determined one, are you not, Mistress Stronginthearm! You take after your father," he commented, his laughter fading to chuckles.
"You have no idea," she replied dryly as she flipped the sign in the window to 'Closed'. This tale would be a long time in the telling, and it would not do to be interrupted now that she had been cornered into telling it. No paying customers had stepped through her doors all day anyway, so it was not like she would be losing business. Let those who simply wanted to kill time in a shop do so elsewhere. She had a tale to tell, and legends to entice into spending at her shop.
"Perhaps after we hear your tale, we will inspect your goods," Master Legolas said. Margaretta beamed. Maybe Halorec would get those Ranger boots he'd been drooling over, rather than plain, inexpensive shoes, after all.
"Yes, you do still have that present to buy, do you not, Master Elf?" Master Gimli teased. Master Legolas rolled his eyes in a long-suffering look, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his smile on Margaretta, bringing yet another blush.
"Let me make you some tea, please. Storytelling is thirsty work, and so is listening. So is shopping, for that matter, whether for presents or otherwise," the shopwoman said, disappearing into the back room without waiting for a reply. She was stalling, yes, but she truly did need a chance to collect her thoughts. She never expected to be waiting on heroes at all, let alone telling her bloody tale to them! And that elf! He made her blush like an untried maiden, and Margaretta was on the wrong side of THAT by more than two decades.
As she puttered around the small kitchen she kept in the back of the shop, in order to prepare refreshments during long negotiations with picky clients, she pondered her maiden days. If someone had told her then that she'd do the things she'd done, let alone be telling the story to two of the most famous names of her time, she would've called that someone a liar to their face. Yet here she was, preparing to do just that. Strange the turns life took, sometimes.
All too quickly, the tea was prepared. Margaretta had gotten out her best tea set, the rare mithril one kept for nobility or very rich merchants. She brewed the finest tea available, set out fresh milk, honey and some of her precious sugar, along with a fine selection of cookies and tarts, all made with her own hands and all of quality surpassing even the royal cooks'. Most people seemed to believe a woman weapons dealer would be useless in the kitchen. Margaretta Stronginthearm delighted in proving most people wrong.
Master Legolas and Master Gimli were no longer inspecting the Nargothondian when she reentered the main portion of the shop. Instead, their banter was focused on the blade holding a place of honor next to it. The sword in question was rather plain, in an elegant sort of way. It was a lighter design, suitable for a boy's first real sword, or perhaps a shieldmaiden, and the blade showed signs of hard use. The craftsmanship, however, was every bit as impressive as the Nargothondian's.
"Definitely, Legolas. If she will not sell the Nargothondian, then this is the blade for your lady," the dwarf was saying.
"Gimli, I do wish you would let that go," Master Legolas sighed.
"Never! 'Tis too rich a mine for jokes. And besides, one of these days you will have to get off your elvish..."
"Tea's ready!" Margaretta called cheerily, pretending not to notice she'd interrupted. Master Legolas smiled gratefully. Master Gimli guffawed as if he'd gotten the better of his elf. Margaretta was just glad not to have to hear what elvish thing Legolas would have to get off of, nor why. She set the tea tray down on a low table near a window, and placed three chairs, one dwarf-sized, around it. Legolas and Gimli exchanged an amused glance as she fussed with the pillows. Presently, the shopkeeper could stall no longer.
"Please, have a seat. Try a cookie, or a tart. I made them myself. How would you like your tea? Or would you prefer to do it yourselves? Please, feel at home here," Margaretta babbled. Honestly, what was wrong with her? It was like her wits had flown. This would never do.
Legolas and Gimli each helped themselves to a pasty. Margaretta poured the tea, passed the cups around, and took a cookie. "Are you certain you wish to hear this? 'Tis not a nice story," she tried yet again. She really did not want to relive this portion of her life, but if it would net her the sale.....
"I would like to hear the tale, Mistress," Master Legolas said softly.
"Indeed, Mistress Stronginthearm. I also would like to know why such a strong and intelligent lady would not part with the Nargothondian," Gimli agreed.
That was enough to dispel Margaretta's lingering resistance. Even at her age, the shopkeeper was still a handsome woman. She was used to being complimented on her looks by males who thought to drive her prices down that way. It never worked, but that didn't stop them trying. Dwarves, on the other hand, never failed to notice strength and intelligence in females. To have the most famous dwarf in the land complimenting her on hers warmed Margaretta right to her bones. She'd always loved dwarves, and this was just one more reason why. She could not put off telling him her tale any longer, however painful it may be.
"You ARE a determined one, are you not, Mistress Stronginthearm! You take after your father," he commented, his laughter fading to chuckles.
"You have no idea," she replied dryly as she flipped the sign in the window to 'Closed'. This tale would be a long time in the telling, and it would not do to be interrupted now that she had been cornered into telling it. No paying customers had stepped through her doors all day anyway, so it was not like she would be losing business. Let those who simply wanted to kill time in a shop do so elsewhere. She had a tale to tell, and legends to entice into spending at her shop.
"Perhaps after we hear your tale, we will inspect your goods," Master Legolas said. Margaretta beamed. Maybe Halorec would get those Ranger boots he'd been drooling over, rather than plain, inexpensive shoes, after all.
"Yes, you do still have that present to buy, do you not, Master Elf?" Master Gimli teased. Master Legolas rolled his eyes in a long-suffering look, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his smile on Margaretta, bringing yet another blush.
"Let me make you some tea, please. Storytelling is thirsty work, and so is listening. So is shopping, for that matter, whether for presents or otherwise," the shopwoman said, disappearing into the back room without waiting for a reply. She was stalling, yes, but she truly did need a chance to collect her thoughts. She never expected to be waiting on heroes at all, let alone telling her bloody tale to them! And that elf! He made her blush like an untried maiden, and Margaretta was on the wrong side of THAT by more than two decades.
As she puttered around the small kitchen she kept in the back of the shop, in order to prepare refreshments during long negotiations with picky clients, she pondered her maiden days. If someone had told her then that she'd do the things she'd done, let alone be telling the story to two of the most famous names of her time, she would've called that someone a liar to their face. Yet here she was, preparing to do just that. Strange the turns life took, sometimes.
All too quickly, the tea was prepared. Margaretta had gotten out her best tea set, the rare mithril one kept for nobility or very rich merchants. She brewed the finest tea available, set out fresh milk, honey and some of her precious sugar, along with a fine selection of cookies and tarts, all made with her own hands and all of quality surpassing even the royal cooks'. Most people seemed to believe a woman weapons dealer would be useless in the kitchen. Margaretta Stronginthearm delighted in proving most people wrong.
Master Legolas and Master Gimli were no longer inspecting the Nargothondian when she reentered the main portion of the shop. Instead, their banter was focused on the blade holding a place of honor next to it. The sword in question was rather plain, in an elegant sort of way. It was a lighter design, suitable for a boy's first real sword, or perhaps a shieldmaiden, and the blade showed signs of hard use. The craftsmanship, however, was every bit as impressive as the Nargothondian's.
"Definitely, Legolas. If she will not sell the Nargothondian, then this is the blade for your lady," the dwarf was saying.
"Gimli, I do wish you would let that go," Master Legolas sighed.
"Never! 'Tis too rich a mine for jokes. And besides, one of these days you will have to get off your elvish..."
"Tea's ready!" Margaretta called cheerily, pretending not to notice she'd interrupted. Master Legolas smiled gratefully. Master Gimli guffawed as if he'd gotten the better of his elf. Margaretta was just glad not to have to hear what elvish thing Legolas would have to get off of, nor why. She set the tea tray down on a low table near a window, and placed three chairs, one dwarf-sized, around it. Legolas and Gimli exchanged an amused glance as she fussed with the pillows. Presently, the shopkeeper could stall no longer.
"Please, have a seat. Try a cookie, or a tart. I made them myself. How would you like your tea? Or would you prefer to do it yourselves? Please, feel at home here," Margaretta babbled. Honestly, what was wrong with her? It was like her wits had flown. This would never do.
Legolas and Gimli each helped themselves to a pasty. Margaretta poured the tea, passed the cups around, and took a cookie. "Are you certain you wish to hear this? 'Tis not a nice story," she tried yet again. She really did not want to relive this portion of her life, but if it would net her the sale.....
"I would like to hear the tale, Mistress," Master Legolas said softly.
"Indeed, Mistress Stronginthearm. I also would like to know why such a strong and intelligent lady would not part with the Nargothondian," Gimli agreed.
That was enough to dispel Margaretta's lingering resistance. Even at her age, the shopkeeper was still a handsome woman. She was used to being complimented on her looks by males who thought to drive her prices down that way. It never worked, but that didn't stop them trying. Dwarves, on the other hand, never failed to notice strength and intelligence in females. To have the most famous dwarf in the land complimenting her on hers warmed Margaretta right to her bones. She'd always loved dwarves, and this was just one more reason why. She could not put off telling him her tale any longer, however painful it may be.