Story for the day: Pie Absconded
I woke up to find a pie left on my table. This is what happened.
|Rautu ignores you, unless you have dessert|
After a night of catering to the wants of an infant prince and pandering to the desires of an infantile yet giant mate, the commander was awakened in the commons by a familiar scent wafting through the chambers. Though the fragrance was recognizable, she wondered what it could be doing in the commons at this time in the morning. She suspected that Martje, who was in a munificent mood since the appearance of Prince Dorrin had graced the keep, was up to making pies for breakfast and equally suspected that the telling aroma of cinnamon and apple had drifted into the commons from the kitchen below. When she roused from her bed, however, she found most of her suppositions were false.
The pie in question was not in the kitchen of the keep but on the table in the commons main room. It sat untouched, stewing its encased delights within the aegis of its butter crust, mocking the commander with its silent attendance. It was whole, which meant the Den Asaan had not become aware of it, and therefore one could only wonder at how such a treat came to be there.
The commander approached, eyeing the apple pie with chariness, and searched for a note of explanation. There was none, however, and she became even more hesitant to taste that which had been left to her discerning character. She placed her hand over the pie and felt the steam rising from it. It had been left there recently. She marked the closed door of the commons and hunted for any further signs of infiltration but there was none to be found.
After a few moments’ search, the door opened and the Den Asaan entered. He was about to tell his mate he smelled a delicious item in the hallway beyond the winding stair when he was silenced by the sight of the very object adorning his table. His eyes blazed in immediate interest and his stomach roared as his appetite was excited. He shuffled over to the pie and made a sideways glance at his mate.
“I know this cannot have been your doing," the commander said, pointing at the pie.
The Den Asaan raised a brow. He thought she had fashioned or at least brought the delectable article there. “I did not place this here,” he warily said.
“Never. It would have been more than half eaten if you had.”
The answer to the quandary soon presented itself as Alasdair’s footfalls were heard bounding up the steps. He appeared in the open doorway with all of his usual cheerfulness and good humor but was surprised to see the pie still intact. “There isn’t something wrong with it, is there?” he asked, noting the commander and Den Asaan standing over the pie and eyeing it with sincere caution.
“So you’re the mysterious benefactor,” the commander fleered. “I am grateful and astonished that you managed to put this in our room without notifying my sentinel.”
The Den Asaan grunted a few things on the subject of entering a home without permission but his remonstrance was diffused by the mesmerizing sight of the dessert before him.
Alasdair laughed to see the giant so enthralled and unable to remove his attention from the pie. He bid him to eat it, as it was left there for him more than the commander for he knew the Den Asaan would leave her a piece as large as his covetous nature would allow. He explained that Martje had volunteered her services and had been making treats for him every morning since Dorrin had arrived. The gesture was welcomed and pleasant but the effects on Alasdair’s overall state of health were less so. The evening previous, he had caught Carrigh letting out the seams of his britches. Though he knew himself to be thin has he always was, the sight struck him as a reminder of what he had been consuming in the last few weeks.
“Shall I ask why it was given in its entirety without you having claimed a small piece yourself?”
Alasdair pressed his slender hips forward and patted his miniscule belly. “I think being a father is having its consequence,” he said in a saddened tone.
The commander scoffed and shook her head. “If you think you’re growing round and soft, I fear to think of how you judge Martje.”
Alasdair pursed his lips and stabbed a defensive finger at her. “Martje is the best cook in this kingdom,” he firmly asserted.
“I was not discounting her ability to delight. I was merely wondering what you consider as acceptable plumpness.”
“For myself, none.” Alasdair recollected himself and marched out of the commons to find something more wholesome to enjoy for the morning.
The Den Asaan humphed and his eyes wandered over to the table once more. “He has grown fatter,” Rautu perceived, lifting the whole of the pie to his mouth.
“Iimon Ghaala,” the commander exclaimed, attempting not to laugh. “That’s too cruel, considering he is giving us something you like.”
“It was an observation.”
“With cruel intonation. At least wait until he has left the hall to disparage your friend.”
The giant ignored his mate, claiming that a leader should always be fit to set the example for his people, and began his appreciation of what Alasdair had bequeathed him. A few large bites and the pie was gone, excepting a sliver of crust brushed with a thin layer of apple. In the spirit of the morning’s generosity, Rautu offered the near shaving to his mate, which he was pleased to find rejected an instant later. The Den Asaan exhaled, sated for the moment, and told his mate that perhaps Alasdair’s visits to their residence should be accepted with greater frequency.