Lendose Soup Kitchen

[JaeEleutheria]

It'd been an idea that had come to her, as she had taken a step back from front line fighting. It started as just her with a big pot of simple soup in Lendose, handing out bowls to the refugees who had been displaced due to the war. Now some local housewives and cooks had started helping her.

She'd started up some similar operations in Ravenwatch and in Cear upon suggestion by Shayde, where she could get a free meal to those who couldn't afford one.

She took her cloak with the purple dragons and set it on a chair, rolled up the sleeves of her robe and tugged the latest pot to the house they used now in Lendose. As she got there, after a few chastising remarks about doing too much, she set about doing what she always did, serving those who needed food, and giving them an Ineanian blessing as they went.

[rohenna]

The potato farmer was round faced and friendly. Shayde had stopped at the side of a lonely road to help him – he’d tumbled off his cart as the wheel had hit a particularly large stone, and was sitting dazed and scowling on a tussock beside the trail. Setting a small fire, she’d made him some tea and they had shared bread, talking while she patched his bleeding head.

“So I goes all the way ter Ravenswatch, only ter be told by the feller that he don’t need my p’tatoes. Some other feller got in first, and with better prices. So now there are all these...” He thumbs to the cart behind him, piled high with sacks of potatoes, “and they doin’ nothin’ but goin’ bad.”

Shayde looked at him quietly a moment, then climbed onto the cart, opening the top of one of the sacks. She picked out a couple of potatoes and looked them over before laying them gently back in the sack. Leaping lithely from the cart, she smiled.

“How much for the whole lot?”

“Ther whole lot? Yer sure look too skinny ter eat that much, m’lady”

She laughed. “They aren’t for me. For a friend of mine. How much?”

After a moments baffled silence, the farmer named his price, and Shayde pulled out a bag of coins from her pack, counting the crowns into his hand.

Then she added another small handful of crowns to his pile, and chuckled softly at his astonished expression.

“That is so that you might be kind enough to take them into Lendose, and ask for Dame Amelia Almaran. Most people around there will be able to direct you to her. Tell her Shayde Mel’for sends her regards...and her potatoes.”

The potato farmer beamed a smile that served to make his round red face rounder and redder, and he tipped the crowns carefully into his pocket, his eyes dancing with excitement.

“Sure, m’lady. Dame Almaran. I’ve heard of them Almarans. Not a name yer ferget.” He paused, scratching the back of his head a moment. “Er...what will she do with all these?”

Shayde smiled. “She runs the soup kitchens...for the refugees.”

The potato farmer’s face beamed again, this time with pride, and he sat up a little straighter. Pulling on his hat, he drew himself to his feet.

“Beg pardon, m’lady, but I’d best not keep them waiting. The day isn’t getting any younger, yer see?” And within moments he had disappeared round the bed, his chin held high, his potato sacks bouncing around in the back of the cart, towards Lendose.