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July 10, 2011

A Visit with Aztryd's Gammy

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Cinnamon Raymaker


Happy she has finally delivered her message, Elwing sits curled up on soft cushions close to the blazing fire in Azagak's comfortable parlor, sipping a steaming hot mug of tea made from herbs from the outside kitchen garden. Looking around at the rich tapestries hung in this surprisingly warm and cosy parlor, she marvels at the resilience of the dwarves and the persistence with which they hold back the dampness and moisture from developing in the caverns of Mount Dolmed.

Azagak is fussing around in the small kitchen area nearby, preparing a hot nourishing stew of root vegetables and greens collected from the nearby plains by the clan sisters of this stronghold. Such a wonderful feeling to be a part of such a sociable and tightly-knit family group - knowing there is always someone there to look out for you and watch over you in times of need.

"So, Princess, this stew is almost ready for you. Come, sit at the table, and let us enjoy a good old chin-wag while we wait."

Elwing smiles and carefully moves across to the stool, which Azagak has set for her at the small ornately carved table used for family meals in this parlor.

"Thank you, Azagak," she replies. "What would you have me tell you? I know! I can start by telling you that your great granddaughter is alert and perfect - such a dainty, dear child! She is thriving well, even though her poor mother has been through so much already!  Aztryd dearly loves her child. I could tell how precious she is to Aztryd, and obviously to all of you here! Otherwise why would your granddaughter have gone to such grave lengths to remove her child from the influence of her 'husband'?"

"Aye, indeed, Princess! She always was the independent one! Even though we love her dearly, Aztryd would always want to know why things should be done in such a way and why it always had to be that way and not this way, even when this way would be better." Azagak shakes her head and laughs gruffly. "I always thought one day it would lead her into trouble, but it seems that she was meant to have this quality to help her through the rough times we did not foresee when we arranged her marriage with that loathsome bear of a dwarf! She is better off without him and so are we!" Azagak takes a moment to calm herself and breathe deeply without the huffing and puffing which had overtaken her when discussing her ex grandson-in-law.

"Please excuse me Princess, I do go on a bit, don't I?" she says and chuckles, red-faced. "Now, please allow me to fetch that delicious, hot stew from the stove so that you may appease your hunger. I should warn you that with a full belly and this warm fire, you will probably sleep the deepest and calmest sleep you have in a long, long time!"

Elwing smiles and nods towards Azagak. "That would be a luxury I think I can well afford this night," she replies. Taking the steaming bowl of food that Azagak has placed in front of her, she fills her spoon with the vegetables and rich broth and blows on the food carefully before tasting it. The texture of the crunchy vegetables, coupled with the rich, sweet taste of the added herbs is bliss to Elwing's senses. Azagak smiles as she watches the princess savouring every bite of the food presented to her.

"I must have the recipe for this delicious stew, Azagak!" whispers Elwing.

"Ah, Aztryd will have it already memorised for you, princess. Make sure you mention Azagak's Vegetable Stew when you see her next and give her the message I will write for you to deliver on your return home." she instructs.

"Aye, indeed I shall, Azagak!"

Elwing eats every bite of the delicious stew, and, thanking Azagak, returns to the pile of cushions in front of the roaring fire in the parlor. Watching the flames dancing in the fireplace dug back into the cavern walls, she allows her mind to wander, feeling the warmth of the flames on her face. She yawns delicately and burrows deeply into the cushions feeling safely cocooned in the friendship of the clan of Lord Ulreg of Gamilfûn, finally giving in to the lull of Lord Irmo's promises of sweet dreams.

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