User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 38

Previous Chapters
1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd, 33rd, 34th, 35th, 36th, 37th

4th Era 130, 10th of Frostfall, Summerset Isle
They sat on the front doorstep, eating a cold lunch. Curwe didn't want to sully the kitchen and the chairs, so she had put it out ready (and out of reach of any possible gulls or goats) before they had started planting.

"You know," she began, licking the dressing off of her fingers, "I never had any of these 'sandwiches' before you started making them when you came here. I don't know if I mentioned this before."

"You haven't," he assured her. "It is a popular travel food on Pyandonea. You have everything of a 'normal' meal - barring the dessert and drink, of course - in one, easy to carry package. Most of the time, ships carry crates full of ready-made sandwiches contained in special wrappings to keep them fresh, or the fixings needed to make them. Sometimes, however, they keep the food separate but with an additional crate of fire salts."

"Fire salts? Whatever for? Does it have some sort of taste so that it can be sprinkled on food?"

"It tastes a little like pepper," he conceeded, nodding his head thoughtfully, "However, putting more than a sprinkle on your tongue or preparation is a sure way to burn either your mouth or your food. Quite literally, I might add."

She frowned, confused. "Then why bring it along?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Having a fire roaring to cook your food is a sure way to be spotted by the ships you are trying to sneak up on and plunder. The smoke would be able to be seen for miles."

Realization swept over her features, erasing her frown. "Oh."

"Fire salts can either warm or cook food, depending on how much of it is used. Its bonus is that there is no fire needed, it creates no smoke, and is much easier to bring along a crate or two of the salts as opposed to cords and cords of wood needed for the same purpose...not to mention what to be done with the ashes afterwards."

"You're starting to make me wish I had some fire salts around." Curwe remarked, leaning back against the door.

Balasian smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "It is not entirely a miracle. If you buy it from shops, it can be expensive. On the other hand, you can summon a fire atronach and kill it and gather the salts that way, but that could very potentially be deadly if you didn't know how to combat one. It also needs a special container to hold it. Metal could scorch the floor or shelves it sat on, wood would burn, and glass would either crack or melt in the heat produced by the salts. The best solution we found was to enchant a thick ceramic jar with fire resistance, thus it was able to contain the salts without damage to the jar...or environment it was placed in. Also, the salts only last about four times before needing to return them to the jar to rekindle their heat."

"Maybe we're better off with wood after all."

He smiled. "Indeed. We aren't hiding from anyone...well, maybe I am, but that's beside the point."

He paused to lick some errant dressing off his thumb. It was his own special recipe. He had had to substitute goat's milk for cow's milk (what he used to use on his homeland), but the result was more or less the same...though it did taste a little different. Curwe wouldn't know, since she had never made any; he always did. He looked back up into her amber eyes. "Is there anything else to do with the orchard?"

"Just cut off the dead ones. We can use them for firewood."

He looked back up, surprized. "You can use that for firewood?"

She made a face. "Of course you can. It is easier to chop up than large trees...and we all know how hard that is, right?"

He knew all too well. He could remember perfectly the first tree he had cut down here...and the work afterward involving cutting it up and transporting it back to the cottage. If there was another source of wood closer - no matter how small - he was all for it.

"Is there any difference between apple wood and, say, pine?" he asked, washing his hands next to her in the stream.

"Not really. But pine smells like pine and apple smells like fruit."

"Really? It doesn't smell like apples?" he asked, as they walked back to the orchard. The cart was now empty of saplings and some of the buckets, as they had brought back most of the buckets when they stopped for lunch.

"No. It just smells like...fruit." Curwe answered, handing him the saw. "You cut the tree, I'll hold it."

He cocked a white eyebrow at her. "Why am I always the lucky one to do the hard stuff?"

She cocked her own blond eyebrow back. "Because you're stronger than me." She paused, then watched as he kneeled in the dirt. "What if I promisd to give you a massage later on? Would that smooth things over?"

He gazed up at from under his eyebrows, a small smile growing on his light pink lips. "You know how to rig my sails and steer my rudder, don't you?"

She smiled seductively. "I do indeed."

He matched her smile as he began to saw. She did. And he loved her for it.