"Well, good sirs, if you had ever shopped here when my father ran things,
you know that the Nargothondian was his pride," Margaretta began her tale.
"My good Mistress, EVERYONE who knew your father when he ran things knew how highly he valued that sword," Master Gimli interrupted, laughing. "He certainly set the price high enough, though I could never quite figure out why. 'Tis a treasure of a blade, to be sure, but Master Stronginthearm priced it out of the reach of all but a king."
Margaretta restrained her bristle on her father's behalf. She took a deep breath and instead replied, "He did that to discourage purchasers, without letting them know he did not wish to sell it. If you wish to hear his reasons for keeping it, you'll have to find him in the south, where he retired, and have him tell you his story. My father's emotional attachment to that blade is not my reason for refusing to sell, for when he left me the store, he left me the blade to do with as I would. If he had not wanted me to sell it, he would have taken it with him."
"Indeed, Mistress. Please, continue your tale," Master Legolas said, giving his dwarf a meaningful glance. Master Gimli nodded and smiled, sipping his tea.
"Of course," Margaretta said, taking a sip of her own. "As I said, the Nargothondian was my father's favorite, but when he retired, he left it here in the shop for me to sell. I did not lower the price, as by then my clientele was used to it and I thought it bad business to change their expectations of my prices and quality. So the blade hung on the wall for what seemed like forever. Which was thoroughly annoying at the time, but turned out to be most fortuitous. If the sword had sold, it would not have been there when I needed it."
"And what did you need it for, Mistress?" Master Gimli asked eagerly.
"Peace, good Gimli," Master Legolas waved him quiet. "Mistress Stronginthearm is establishing background and building suspense, as all good storytellers do. I sense something of the frustrated bard in you, good lady ," he said, smiling at her. Margaretta blushed yet again. How could this elf possibly know of her childhood ambition to be a bard? She only gave it up because her father insisted she take over the shop. Perhaps what they said was true, that elves could see into a person's soul. Margaretta sincerely hoped not! She hastily reached for a tart, to cover her blushes.
"Why, Master Elf, I do believe you have embarrassed our good hostess. Shame on you!" Master Gimli rumbled, grinning cheerfully as he, too, reached for another tart. The dwarf took two, and passed one to the elf. "Say something to make up for it. Compliment her on her cooking. These tarts are wonderful, are they not, Legolas?"
"They are indeed exquisite, Mistress. My apologies if I have offended," Master Legolas dutifully said, giving Margaretta a wink where Master Gimli could not see. The shopkeeper nearly spit out her mouthful of tea. She choked in the effort not to.
Immediately Master Gimli and Master Legolas were on their feet, thumping Margaretta's back and offering her napkins. She waved them away, splutters turning to laughter. "No, no offence taken, Master Legolas, I assure you," she said as she caught her breath. "I am glad you like my pastries. Now, shall I go back to the story?" That she wanted to return to the tale showed how flustered this elf had gotten her.
"Yes, indeed, the story," Master Gimli said as he and Master Legolas returned to their seats.
"You were telling us why you needed the Nargothondian," the elf prompted.
"Yes, right. Thank you, Master Elf," Margaretta began. "As I was saying, 'twas a very lucky thing the blade never sold, for there came a time when I needed it myself. You have heard a little of the Battle of Dale? I understand if not. You were both very busy with your own adventuring at the time."
Dwarf and elf exchanged another of their meaningful glances. "We have heard something about it, yes," Master Gimli said.
Margaretta felt like a proper fool. Of course Master Gimli would know of the Battle of Dale! Did he not originally hail from Erebor? The shopkeeper was unsure, but even if he did not, he surely had kith and kin there. One of them must have told him the tale, and he of course would tell his elf. Well, nothing for it but to keep on with the story.
"My good Mistress, EVERYONE who knew your father when he ran things knew how highly he valued that sword," Master Gimli interrupted, laughing. "He certainly set the price high enough, though I could never quite figure out why. 'Tis a treasure of a blade, to be sure, but Master Stronginthearm priced it out of the reach of all but a king."
Margaretta restrained her bristle on her father's behalf. She took a deep breath and instead replied, "He did that to discourage purchasers, without letting them know he did not wish to sell it. If you wish to hear his reasons for keeping it, you'll have to find him in the south, where he retired, and have him tell you his story. My father's emotional attachment to that blade is not my reason for refusing to sell, for when he left me the store, he left me the blade to do with as I would. If he had not wanted me to sell it, he would have taken it with him."
"Indeed, Mistress. Please, continue your tale," Master Legolas said, giving his dwarf a meaningful glance. Master Gimli nodded and smiled, sipping his tea.
"Of course," Margaretta said, taking a sip of her own. "As I said, the Nargothondian was my father's favorite, but when he retired, he left it here in the shop for me to sell. I did not lower the price, as by then my clientele was used to it and I thought it bad business to change their expectations of my prices and quality. So the blade hung on the wall for what seemed like forever. Which was thoroughly annoying at the time, but turned out to be most fortuitous. If the sword had sold, it would not have been there when I needed it."
"And what did you need it for, Mistress?" Master Gimli asked eagerly.
"Peace, good Gimli," Master Legolas waved him quiet. "Mistress Stronginthearm is establishing background and building suspense, as all good storytellers do. I sense something of the frustrated bard in you, good lady ," he said, smiling at her. Margaretta blushed yet again. How could this elf possibly know of her childhood ambition to be a bard? She only gave it up because her father insisted she take over the shop. Perhaps what they said was true, that elves could see into a person's soul. Margaretta sincerely hoped not! She hastily reached for a tart, to cover her blushes.
"Why, Master Elf, I do believe you have embarrassed our good hostess. Shame on you!" Master Gimli rumbled, grinning cheerfully as he, too, reached for another tart. The dwarf took two, and passed one to the elf. "Say something to make up for it. Compliment her on her cooking. These tarts are wonderful, are they not, Legolas?"
"They are indeed exquisite, Mistress. My apologies if I have offended," Master Legolas dutifully said, giving Margaretta a wink where Master Gimli could not see. The shopkeeper nearly spit out her mouthful of tea. She choked in the effort not to.
Immediately Master Gimli and Master Legolas were on their feet, thumping Margaretta's back and offering her napkins. She waved them away, splutters turning to laughter. "No, no offence taken, Master Legolas, I assure you," she said as she caught her breath. "I am glad you like my pastries. Now, shall I go back to the story?" That she wanted to return to the tale showed how flustered this elf had gotten her.
"Yes, indeed, the story," Master Gimli said as he and Master Legolas returned to their seats.
"You were telling us why you needed the Nargothondian," the elf prompted.
"Yes, right. Thank you, Master Elf," Margaretta began. "As I was saying, 'twas a very lucky thing the blade never sold, for there came a time when I needed it myself. You have heard a little of the Battle of Dale? I understand if not. You were both very busy with your own adventuring at the time."
Dwarf and elf exchanged another of their meaningful glances. "We have heard something about it, yes," Master Gimli said.
Margaretta felt like a proper fool. Of course Master Gimli would know of the Battle of Dale! Did he not originally hail from Erebor? The shopkeeper was unsure, but even if he did not, he surely had kith and kin there. One of them must have told him the tale, and he of course would tell his elf. Well, nothing for it but to keep on with the story.