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Author Topic: The Cake Isn't a Lie  (Read 1998 times)

Annis

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The Cake Isn't a Lie
« on: May 16, 2015, 02:28:00 AM »
It had become a habit, coming up to the mines every week or two with treats, and well, they never went under appreciated, so Annis could hardly complain at the idea of having to come up. The miners were so used to her coming these days, that they were already waiting by the entrance when she arrived with her basket full of little sweet treats to give them the little extra energy boosts they always needed. It was something her mother had done for the miners before them, and so, it seemed only fitting that Annis would continue the tradition for those that were there. Without fail, there they were, waiting for her to arrive, with the basket in hand as she approached the mouth of the mine. There was a slight cheer from a couple of the dwarves, holding their hands out for one of Annis' lemon cakes. If anything, they would remember her for those. One of the older dwarves, with a beard whiter than any snow she had seen, had taken on of the cakes, and already had half of it in his mouth when she spoke up. "So Safur, when are you going to make an honest woman of me?" she queried in jest, continuing a running joke between the two that everyone was used to by now.

"Miss Annis - I promise; I'll marry thee tomorrow."

"You promise that every day!"

"Aye, but I mean it."[/i]

"Uh-huh, and I'm made of diamonds."

"That you are, lass. That you are." This comment only caused the young dwarf maiden to shake her head, resting the basket in the crux of her arm, but as she shook her head, she noticed another dwarf perched on a boulder - one she had never seen before, but all the same, even the new people were treated like the rest of them, and with the widest of smiles she made her way over, holding the basket to him. He was an odd looking dwarf, a hat atop his head, and a strangely cheery disposition, but all the same, she didn't judge him for his choices. "Lemon cake? Or perhaps fresh baked bread is more to your liking?" She offered, nodding down to the basket with its assortment of goodies inside. "Don't worry. I don't charge - everything in this basket is free." Suddenly panicked that he might have thought she was a wandering shop, she had felt the need to clarify that this was just in fact a treat that she brought the miners every week or so. After leaving him to his choice, she perched next to him, looking out amongst the other dwarves, who were wolfing down the treats she had given them before speaking up again. "I've not seen you in this mine before. Have you come from one of the other ones?" She turned her head to the gentle-dwarf sat next to her, offering him a small, well-meant smile.
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Bofur

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The Cake Isn't a Lie
« Reply #1 on: May 28, 2015, 04:07:00 AM »
Bofur had been sick of moving since the first time he had done it, and that was decades past. Each time a mine closed, he moved, and every time one shuffled some of its workers along, he seemed to be a prime choice for letting go – unmarried, unsettled, with roots that had only recently been put down and thus were easy to tear up. He was sick of being shoved away as soon as he found a place to belong.

 But each time, he settled in, and each time it became a little easier for the already friendly dwarf to replant his roots and make acquaintances. By now it was done without thinking, new friends seized on quickly and different houses named home instantly – the word had no true meaning, these days, no four walls it was braced again. Instead the main share was carried by brothers of blood, the rest divided between countless others. Home was nowhere, so he tried to make pieces of it everywhere. He had been at this mine for only three days and already he had most of his shift’s names down, already he knew groups to congregate with and laughed as loud as any of them. On this morning there was an excitement about them, flashed grins and mutters of something about baskets and wee dotes. On the main break of the day, they moved at quite the pace towards the entrance. Bofur trailed behind slightly, a little confused by the obvious enthusiasm. He sat when they reached the entrance, letting the others cluster and group but not joining them just yet, wolfing down part of his cold, slightly tasteless meal. A grumpy older miner joined him, head almost bowed to his knees as he slumped and grumbled into his beard about standing and knees and lasses who wasted their talents.

 The anticipated arrival was something of a surprise, though perhaps not as much as it should have been. A tiny, bouncy lass with curly hair and skin that had seen more sun than half the miners put together. A basket swung at her side, full to the brim and emptied steadily with a stream of banter interrupted only by laughter. Nothing was passed back to her, only smiles and kind words mixed with the occasional terse nod by a less open-faced miner.

 She traipsed towards him just as he was considering getting up to try and acquire some of the baked goods being wolfed down by various workers, after he had stowed the remainder of his meal – it smelled too good to just let it pass him by. Up close, she was just as energetic and bright-smiling, a cheerful little thing that twittered enthusiastically. “Lemon cake? Or perhaps fresh baked bread is more to your liking?” Bofur was hungry. Bofur was very hungry, brows quirking and a smile forming – really? Free food? It was almost too good to be true but if it was… This was a good day. No wonder the others were excited.

 She assured that it was free – though at this stage he’d happily have paid for a taste of the baking making his mouth water – and offered the basket. Rough hands etched deep with coaldust were almost cautious as he remembered not to smudge the rest of the food in the process of taking lemon cake. The kind little stranger perched next to him as he took the first bite. It was fresh, soft and sweet and the best thing he had ever eaten at work. “I've not seen you in this mine before. Have you come from one of the other ones?”

 The newest employee of this particular establishment dipped his head in a nod, forwent answering verbally for a moment in favour of chewing and swallowing. “Mmm. Aye. Been here a few days – came from the next settlement north.” He couldn’t resist another bite, though it was small and he kept chattering on immediately. Politeness was a balance, and one that he often misjudged or outright ignored. Realisation dawned as he linked together half-missed sentences heard over the previous few days. “Guessing you’re the envoy of Mahal they say comes around every so often, then.” A wide grin, and his voice was clearer when he spoke again. “Here, I’m forgetting my manners. Khamân, you’ve a talent.” He inclined his head respectfully, and the hat shoved hastily on to his head after he had unstrapped the miner’s helmet exaggerated the tilt of his head that followed. “And if you don’t mind me asking, if you’re not taking payment, what are you doing this for?”

((OOC: Khamân – thanks. ANNIS IS ADORABLE AND THIS IS PROBABLY RIDDLED WITH TYPOS and also got kinda long, sorry.))


(#612800)

Annis

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The Cake Isn't a Lie
« Reply #2 on: May 28, 2015, 11:26:00 AM »
The politeness and choice of words the miners often used to describe the girl who brought them food never ceased to amaze her, for there was only ever kindness hidden in these words, from gentle souls with a lot of care to give. Mining, in her opinion, was an art form - she couldn't exactly go down to the mines and dig up the gems and jewels that they did, for no doubt her upper body strength would not allow for it, and even if it did, she imagined that she would sooner break the precious stones rather than setting them free of their droll captives. "Envoy of Mahal? Is that what they call it? Ha!" She had not meant to laugh, but of all the things she had heard, this was a new one - and it did tickle her if only slightly. Shaking her head, a smirk etched across her lips, curls bouncing carelessly at the sides of her cheeks, as she tried to think of a more polite response than chuckling away at Bofur's compliment. "No, I'm just a simple girl, with a mother who insists on me staying home and baking."

Taking her leave of the stone that she had been sat upon, abandoning the basket where it was, she curtseyed towards the older dwarf, offering him only the gentle behaviour that he had so delightfully granted her, finally taking it upon herself to start the introductions between the two. "Annis, at your service." The words came out almost silkily, where her voice was normally sweet, but she had only mimicked her mother's way of speaking whenever introductions were being thrown about. As he spoke on about her lemon cakes, and how she had a talent, she could not help but smile. Smiling, was not exactly out of Annis' way, but, when someone said something to her that she was more than happy to hear, it was a completely different smile than the one she wore when her face was resting. It was the kind of smile, that if held too long, ones cheeks would surely hurt. "I'd like to think my lemon cakes are a contender in cakes around here - I bake them often enough." Tanned fingers dipped into the basket, debating how many more cakes she had left to give, and yet, there seemed to be more than she bargained for - had she really gone overboard with the baking that morning? Chewing idly on the inside of her cheek - she had made the executive decision that they should not go to waste. "Another?" The basket made its way in front of Bofur's face once more, knowing the likelihood of denial was slim.

Then he asked her a question, causing her eyebrows to furrow in thought - she hadn't really put much thought into it, and the more thought she put into it, the more she found her eyebrows creasing. Hands came up to meet the biceps as she folded her arms, taking a moment to stare at the wall as she tried to think of the answer before settling on a vague an answer as she could find. "Habit? Tradition? Something along those lines. My mother did it when she was my age, and I just carried it on. You work so hard up here, it's nice that you should be offered some kind of treat, don't you think?" There - if there had ever been a perfect answer that would have been it, or at least, in Annis' opinion that was it; nobody could be faulted for carrying on tradition, especially if it was an enjoyable tradition to say the least. "Why do you mine?" To him, the answer would have been simple, but Annis could never expect people to enjoy such hard, long, gruelling work down caverns and caves - such tight spots, sweating away from dusk till dawn, and yet, some people did. There were a few miners here that would much rather do that than search for a potential wife to carry on their family line.

It wasn't like there wasn't any other job prospects either - in fact, there were more than plenty; Ered Luin was seemingly full in its choices of career, tinkers, toymakers, miners, even tradesmen, of sorts. She'd even heard of a dwarven man taking up a career cooking. Cooking as if it were his job to do so, and yet, his food was often talked about, so she could hardly fault him on that point. "Was it something you always wanted to do, or something that you felt you had to do?"
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Bofur

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Re: The Cake Isn't a Lie
« Reply #3 on: September 08, 2015, 11:13:05 PM »
 Her laugh at the title Bofur passed along was a pleasant one, screwing her face past dainty and ladylike and into genuine mirth. “No, I'm just a simple girl, with a mother who insists on me staying home and baking.” Brows quirked. That had to be self-depreciation.

 The girl seemed to decide that they’d be talking for long enough to warrant formal-ish introductions, a curtsy making him hastily wonder if he should do likewise and stand to bow. Annis, her name was. Short and sweet, like her. “A lovely name – suits you. Bofur, at yours!” He held the cake in his teeth for long enough to pull a seated bow, hands flared somewhat over-dramatically. Standing would have been better, to match her level of politeness, but he’d been on his feet practically since sunrise and frankly this would have to do. The dwarf on his other side grumbled something derogatory.

 Thanking her made her face light up further, until it seemed that she’d actually start giving out physical light. “I'd like to think my lemon cakes are a contender in cakes around here - I bake them often enough… Another?”

 Bofur nodded enthusiastically in the middle of swallowing the last bite, and wool-clad palms scuffed off each other before he reached for another piece of cake. A young lad with a rope of dark hair braided to his waist and amber eyes danced over to snatch his own seconds, fingers so quick that Bofur suspected he’d been something less honest than a miner not so long ago. What was his name? He carried a little clay ocarina in a case at his hip; he would be good craic to know – of that Bofur had no doubt. Something that began with W, short, but it refused to come to mind. The lad grinned and signed his thanks instead of voicing it, eyes bright before he vanished once more.

 “Best lemon cakes I’ve ever had, and I’ve lived all over Ered Luin.”

 The question made her think, settling her mobile face into a pensive expression. “Habit? Tradition? Something along those lines. My mother did it when she was my age, and I just carried it on. You work so hard up here, it's nice that you should be offered some kind of treat, don't you think?”

 Bofur nodded after a moment, pausing in his consumption of the lemon cake. It was a good answer. “That’s very kind of you. It’s very nice. ”

 “Why do you mine?” … Now that was hardly fair, his question had been a lot more logical than that. “Was it something you always wanted to do, or something that you felt you had to do?”Well, that made a little more sense.

 Bofur shrugged, his answer coming without much thought and ambling along comfortably. “Never really thought of doing much else – Da was a miner, his da was a miner, there was something of a pattern going on. It’s a decent job. And the company’s great! He leaned to nudge an elbow into the grumpy co-worker on the side opposite Annis, but aborted the motion with a laugh when the older miner shot him a freezing glare. “Naw, they’re good lads. Plus, sometimes kind strangers decide to bring you lemon cake on the job.”


(#612800)

Annis

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Re: The Cake Isn't a Lie
« Reply #4 on: January 23, 2016, 04:31:11 AM »
How many years had she been doing this now? She dreaded to think, and whilst the men of the mines were somewhat cheerful, she had never quite met the optimist that Bofur was, and so to be able to put a name to his face was a handy thing indeed. “Bofur? I shall remember that.  Bofur with the wonderful hat.” She nodded to herself, as if repeating his name twice and associating it with an object would help her remember. Annis had a wonderful tendency to remember the small details, it was a talent some said, and if she didn't know someone's name it was generally because hadn't met them yet. As he mentioned that they had been the best lemon cakes he'd tried in Ered Luin, the young woman couldn't help but beam at the notion. Whilst people might have complimented her cakes in the past they had hardly done so to such extremes, and this delighted her beyond belief. “That... is quite a compliment. Thank you.” The words were almost squeaked out in pleasure, as if she was trying to contain her excitement but unable to do so.

She watched as Bofur leant across to nudge another worker, but clearly he was in no mood for the man's antics, and that simply wouldn't do. Instead of glaring back, Annis offered him a bright smile before turning her attentions back to the other miner, offering him the same cheerfulness. “Carrying on the family business? That's a lovely sentiment.” It certainly was, quite like Annis bringing up lemon cakes to the miners like her mother did before her, but yet, Annis seemed to have a better knack for it. Her mother was, unfortunately, not as even-tempered nor cheerful as her daughter, traits that she seemed to have gained from her father. The brunette chuckled at the idea that strangers brought lemon cakes, and despite not really knowing the man sat next to her, the younger woman had a tendency to perceive everyone as a friend rather than a stranger. “And sometimes strangers bring you lemon cakes. This is true. And sometimes those strangers become friends.” She'd made the offer, now all there was for him to do was accept it.

Checking her basket for it's contents, she idly plucked out a lemon cake for herself, breaking into smaller chunks before taking mouse like bites of the product, carefully making sure none of it fell about her with a cupped hand hovering idly at her chest to catch any crumbs that dared to escape. After a mouthful or two , her brown eyes fell back to Bofur, a small smile curling in the corner of her lips. “If you ever find yourself down by the stream – I'm often there with a basket of cakes. You're welcome to come and sit with me and eat.”
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Bofur

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Re: The Cake Isn't a Lie
« Reply #5 on: June 08, 2017, 02:29:50 AM »
((OOC: Annis is so adorable and it is a crime that I have left replying for so long. I'm really rusty, apologies, hope this works! <3))

 Ah, the hat. Bofur tipped it in recognition – it was a comfy thing, and if forced to choose he’d have left home with hair unbraided rather than without the familiar weight on his head. It was a fair anchor to recognise him by. She had good taste in hats, this cheerful little Annis.
 
 “Carrying on the family business? That's a lovely sentiment.” An affable shrug. Sure, that was one was to look at it. Bofur supposed there was pride to be found in what he did – dwarves were all for revering the work of their ancestors. He hadn’t chosen the job, exactly, but he had always chosen to enjoy it.

 “And sometimes strangers bring you lemon cakes. This is true. And sometimes those strangers become friends.” He needed friends in this place, new to it as he was, she had all the signs of a great one – a quirk of eyebrows and a wider grin, and he nodded, mouth still full of cake.

 (It was nice to see that she enjoyed her own baking, too, eating daintily – a complete contrast to the miner shoving big bites of cake in like it would disappear if he didn’t.) That bright little smile lit her face again.

 “If you ever find yourself down by the stream – I'm often there with a basket of cakes. You're welcome to come and sit with me and eat.”

 “Well if there’s cake involved…” He laughed. “Cake and good company, that is, and they’re never a bad combination!” It would be nice to get outside, too. Really, Annis was being too kind (if too kind was a thing one could actually be, which Bofur didn’t believe). “I’ll have to pay you back for all this hospitality somehow. My brother – Bombur – he’s a good cook, you should come by and get a warm meal off us sometime. I’m sure he’d like to trade a few recipes, and whatever he serves up is much better than anything I could put together. My main talents are talking the ears off of – well, anything that’ll listen, aha! And music.”  A tilt of hat and head. “I suppose I just make a lot of noise, really. Pretty pleasant noise sometimes though, if I do say so myself!” The miner winked, a cheerful sparkle in his eyes.
« Last Edit: June 09, 2017, 12:29:03 PM by Bofur »


(#612800)

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