04. The Pot and Pestle
The Pot and Pestle
As her guest takes his leave Clari turns to another door in her little bookshop. This door does not lead outside.
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housed within the same tree, the ceiling for the tea house is clearly visible, though still ten feet higher than Noori’s own head. The ceiling is a thick tapestry of branches weaved together like an unorganized wicker basket. The wide space of the shop is outfitted with many chairs and sofas, some wide and squishy, others tiny and narrow. The tea shop has a wide clientele and Noori is determined that anyone who visits would know that they had a place when they came in. Some chairs and sofas faced each other over low tables while others surrounded tall ones. Noori had crafted this space to be a place where anyone—new or old—could feel loved, welcomed, and safe. It was to her absolute delight to have people in her home.
And it is, indeed, her home. The level above the woven branch ceiling houses Noori’s large workshop and her living area. And though not many are invited up there, she considers the whole tree her home.
The air in the shop is warm, though not oppressively so, and smells sweetly floral. As Clari pushes into the shop she smiles reflexively, a natural response to walking into the Pot and Pestle.
That smile drops quickly from her face when she spots her Firbolg friend.
Noori is trying to hang festival decorations up in the rafters, height boosted by two crates stacked on top of each other. The crates--certainly not meant to bear the weight of a full grown Firbolg--appear sturdy for now, Noori does not.
“Steady old girl, steady,” the Firbolg woman coaches herself as she stretches her arms above her head to hang a blue and gold lantern. She manages to catch the loop atop the lantern on a hooked branch protruding from the ceiling. She gives a little hum of triumph before lifting the next lantern from where it hangs on her belt. She rises again to her tip toes, lifting herself once more to the task.
Her concentration breaks when she hears a gasp. She twists to look behind her as Clari stands in the doorway between their shops.
“Hello!” Noori calls out cheerily, wobbling slightly on the crates.
“Lurz!” Clari calls as she rushes into the shop to the older woman. “Why are you letting Noori do this? You should be putting these up for her.” There is no answer to her accusation and so the Sea Elf woman calls again, “Lurz!” as she places a steadying hand on Noori’s hip. “Where is he?”
“Oh, thank you dear!” Noori says with a pat on Clari’s hand before reaching up again, stretching a few more feet to the right to get the decoration spaced properly. “I let the dear boy sleep in. He needs rest.”
Clari makes a frustrated sound. “Okay, well, can I help?”
“Oh no. I only have this last one.” Noori dismisses, strain in her already soft voice from reaching as she is.
“Please, let me do it.” Clari says as she uses Mage Hand to gently relieve Noori of the lantern and affix it just as she sees the others on the ceiling are. There had to be at least fifteen of them. Clari really hopes her friend had not done them all alone.
“Well would you look at that?” Noori says, hands on hips with a wide smile. “So clever.”
“Thank you. Now please let me help you down.” Clari holds on to the crates to steady them and commands her Mage Hand to swoop down and offer itself to the Firbolg woman. Noori takes the spectral hand with a girlish giggle.
“Thank you Clari. This is very nifty. I need to learn this one.”
“It is really very helpful.” Clari says, more at ease once Noori is standing with both feet planted on the floor. She lets go of the crates and then steps back a few feet so that she can speak with her friend without straining her neck too much. “I can show you the spell for it if you would like.”
“Oh, yes. That would be wonderful.” Noori continues to hold the spectral hand, bringing it closer to her face to inspect it. “It does not look like your hand. It is much too large.”
“Oh, I’ve never really thought of that.” Clari tilts her head to one side and studies her own Mage Hand in a way that she hadn’t before. Noori was right, it did look very masculine. Oh! That reminded her.
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| Clari Azurestar (Image found on Pinterest) |
“Noori, before I forget! Maximilian the Magnificent arrived just now and he is going to be performing at half past nine. His show will be just outside of our shops so we should both prepare for a crowd. It might be nice to have some tea brewed for anyone who wants to stop by after. I will make sure I send any customers I can your way.”
“Oh yes, that is perfect. Thank you, dear.”
Noori looks up from her perusal of the mage hand and sees that her much younger friend’s mind seems to be racing a bit too fast. She can see the signs of stress beginning to peek through. “Are you okay, dear?” She walks nearer, escorted by the mage hand, and places a soft, furred hand on the younger woman’s forehead. “You seem overwhelmed.”
“I mean there is just a lot to do. It’s the festival! I want to make sure it is perfect.”
“Yes, and it will be wondrous, but you must not forget to care for yourself, Clari. Come here.”
Noori places her hand on Clari’s small shoulder and steers her to the hearth that is situated near the door that connects the two shops. The hearth is made of stone and carefully crafted into the wood of the tree. A cast iron teapot hangs over a low fire, keeping a constant rolling boil. Noori sits Clari down on one of the low, padded stools in front of the fire.
She drops Clari’s mage hand and grabs a mitten to collect the teapot from the fire and begins to make cups of tea. She gives the first cup in the spectral hand and urges it over to Clari.
“Drink something. Just try to calm down for a second.” Noori instructs her friend. Clari nods and slows her breathing. She takes the cup from her mage hand, taking a sip and allowing herself to relax. Noori makes a second cup for herself before taking the seat beside Clari.
“Did you get your new book?” Noori asks as she settles in the seat. “You were talking about it yesterday.”
“Yes!” Clari’s eyes light up in the same way they had all yesterday as she awaited its delivery. “I am really excited to read it when I get the chance.”
Noori smiles but sips her tea coyly. “Are you excited about the book or that Max brought it for you?”
Clari stutters to a stop and crimson spreads like blood in water across her pale cheeks and ears. “I mean… both?”
“Oh?”
“I mean, he’s just a really good storyteller. And you know how I love stories. He’s just so…”
“Magnificent?” There is a teasing lilt to Noori’s voice.
Clari blushes more. “It’s a good moniker for him” she mutters into her cup, face red as her hair. Noori smiles at the younger woman and Clari does her best to avoid her friend’s gaze. “It’s something about the way he tells things. We can live through the same events, but the way he tells it is just so much better.”
“Yes, he has quite the gift.” Clari is staring down into her tea looking embarrassed, so Noori decides to have mercy on the young woman. “Well, be sure that you enjoy the festival yourself. Have fun.”
“I promise I will.”
“Good. I will hold you to it young lady,” she says with a smile. “One moment, I actually have something for you.” Noori places her teacup on the hearth’s edge and goes to her worktable. It is carefully cluttered with different salves and sachet and bundles; this is her downstairs space for creating the wares for her shop. The table also holds different wraps and ribbons that she uses to make little gifts out of her for friends. From the organized mess she picks up a little, square tin with one of the daisies she picked this morning twisted around its width. She brings the gift back to the hearth and places it in the bookkeeper’s hands.
“This is just something for when you’re reading a lot and your eyes get tired. Just a few dabs on your eyelids should do you well.”
“Thank you, Noori.”
“Of course, my dear.”
The two shared a smile and Clari stayed a bit longer with her friend.
{Part Five: The Grove of Elders}
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