Night of the Living Bread

Fen threw a handful of amber cloves into her cauldron and stirred its contents vigorously, it gave an almighty “gloop” as bubbles rose and popped on the surface, the many peppercorns bouncing around like fleas on a hot plate. Dusting her hands off on her milk spattered apron, she took out her knife and began dissecting the pile of cyclops onions that sat before her. Funny thing about cyclops onions, she thought, as tears streamed down the left hand side of her face, they only ever made you cry out of one eye. She snorted quietly to herself and threw their tattered remains into the mix, once again taking hold of the giant wooden spoon and giving it a hefty turn. Her pet anteater stood up on his hind legs and gave the air a sniff, his tongue flickered as if he were trying to get a taste from the steam that rose and filled the small room. Fen patted his head “don’t you worry, you’ll get a taste just as soon as it’s ready!” She poked the fire and grinned as the flames jumped up and licked at the cast iron “seems everyone’s keen to get a taste of my cooking today, now where did I leave all that dry bread?”

Downstairs, in the bakery, Fen’s dry bread stores were looking exceedingly packed. Business had been quiet lately and her famous cornbread sat rather forlorn upon the shelves. A sorry state of affairs indeed but no matter, it was amaizing what you could do with a bit a stale loaf or five, and she had just the recipe to put it to good use.

She looked at the pile of maize-based baked items. Getting all that crumbed was going to be quite the job. Struck by a flash of what could only be referred to as inspiration, because there literally were no words to describe what happened next, she dragged her soggy bathtub out of storage and threw the loaves into it. Next, she removed her scratty boots, her three pairs of socks, and a bit of fluff that had gotten caught between her toes… and jumped in.

If it’s good enough for the winemakers, it’s good enough for me she sang to her anteater, trudging away in the mountain of dry bread, crumbling crusts between her toes and, honestly, having a whale of a time. Crumbs flew as she danced upon her maizen stage, and before long it had succumbed to her aggressive popoto step and was now ready to be dumped in a bath of its own.

Brushing off her feet and revelling in the fact that this was the best they’d smelt in ages, Fen reached for her shovel and started piling it into the cauldron, before long the mixture of bread and milk had thickened to the consistency of a giant bavarois and looked about as angry. She scratched her head. She didn’t remember it looking quite so…. well, aggressive… when she’d made it before. She shrugged, ah well, it looked filling at least which would definitely be a comfort what with all the cold weather lately. She gave it a sniff. It smelt pretty tasty. Fen gave her usual shrug, dipped her finger in it and gave it a taste.

Two hours later, Fen awoke. Goodness me, she thought, all that cooking must’ve really taken it out of me. She picked herself up of the floor, where she had apparently landed rather forcefully, gave the smouldering embers of her once roaring fire a prod, and clambered up her steps to stir the cauldron. My, my, that did look yummy. And it would seem that she’d napped just long enough for it to cool to packing temperature, how marvellous. She pulled a large waxed carton over and started spooning the bread sauce into it. Once it was as full as it could possibly be without overflowing she tied the lid down and scrawled across the top of it “LIANNE” in big bold letters. Picking it up in both arms, and almost falling over backwards in the process, she toddled carefully down the stairs, out the front door, and headed off to the postmoogle .

“Afternoon, Kupo!” The moogle tipped his hat and eyed up the parcel, which appeared to be grumbling rather suspiciously. “What’s this?” He asked. “A gift for a friend,” Fen told him “I told her I’d send her some good snaccs so if you could get it to her toot sweet, Kupo, I’d much appreciate it!” The postmoogle gave a twirl “Anything for you, Kupo!” And immediately regretted that promise as the box gave a very obvious growl. “Still a bit warm I reckon” said Fen “probably should have let it cool a bit longer before boxing it up, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about!” She frowned but then immediately gave a grin, it was just bread and milk for goodness sake, what could possibly go wrong?

Lianne looked at the box, looked at R’osalia, and then looked at the box again. “I’m not opening it” she said stubbornly, “I don’t know what she’s sent me but I’m pretty certain it shouldn’t be jumping around like that.” R’osalia gave the box a curious look and her eyes widened as it gave a shudder in return. Something rather creamy was oozing out of the corners and the box itself was looking decidedly… moist. “Well you can’t just leave it, what if it’s some poor defenceless animal that’s just not happy about confined spaces? I mean, wouldn’t you be bouncing off the walls a bit if someone stuck you in a box?” Lianne shuddered at the thought, she’d had some rather unpleasant experiences with boxes that she’d rather not think about, and this one didn’t seem like it would prove to be any different. “Well, you open it then” she said defiantly. “Oh fine” said R’osalia “I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it!” She tugged at her armour, it suddenly didn’t feel quite so sufficient. “Stand back then…” she reached out, tugged at the soggy string holding it all together and then leapt back as the box burst open and a rather gooey mess of what appeared to be congealed… cornbread threw itself across the room and slid down the wall. It gave an almighty rumble and lurched beneath the nearest cabinet, muttering to itself, and leaving a rather sticky trail behind it.

“WHAT THE CORN IS THAT??” Screamed Lianne “OH MY GOD WHAT EVEN??” R’osalia stood in stunned silence, desperately trying to regain control of her faculties that had all but left the building in a moment of blind panic. “I… I…. I don’t even know, what on earth has Fen been cooking up this time?” “I DON’T KNOW BUT I HOPE SHE’S NOT EXPECTING ME TO EAT THAT!!”

Lavi laughed and turned to Fen “oh my goodness, Fen, what *have* you done?” Lianne looked at them both “WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY TO YOU I COULD HAVE BEEN MORDORED!!” “Oh Lianne,” Lavi gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder and sighed “if you haven’t been accosted by one of Fen’s infernal recipes-gone-wrong, are you even a Fae?” “Well,” Lianne grumbled “I suppose it’s not all that unusual now I think about it. But seriously Fen, what did you put in that damn cauldron to make it… do… well, that….” she waved her arm around in the generally vicinity of the doughy mass. Fen scuffed her foot along the floor and looked up from under her hat sullenly “I don’t know, I followed the recipe to the letter, I checked all the bottles I swear!” Lianne looked around Fen’s ‘kitchen’ suspiciously. Her and R’osalia had headed over the second they’d established that the creature was not, in fact, out to get them, and had managed to sit it in a basket where it had nestled down and apparently fallen asleep. Lianne had heard that bread dough needed to rest in order to rise but this was not at all what she had interpreted that to mean. Still, it seemed friendly enough, once it had been freed from it’s prison cell of floppy cardboard and allowed some breathing space. She supposed it was kind of cute… in a globby, sticky kind of way. At least she would be saved the much dreaded experience of having to eat the damn thing now. She silently thanked the almighty corn gods for their small mercies and peered along the shelves, hoping to find something that would give a clue as to how Fen had created her latest abomination.

As she looked, her eyes fell upon a flour-dusted tome sat upon the table. “Er, what is this, Fen? This isn’t a cookery book, surely.” It was a hefty grimoire bound in pale leather, it’s pages dog eared and stained with all manner of who knows what. She flicked through the pages, frowning as she attempted to decipher the scribbled handwriting and strange symbols that littered each page. “Oh that” said Fen brightly “yes! It’s my Nan’s old cookbook! It’s got some great recipes in it, if you can see past the terrible handwriting!” “Handwriting? That’s not handwriting, Fen, they’re sigils and runes and gods know what else!” “U WOT MATE?” Said Fen, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. “This is old old magics, Fen, oh my god, how??? HOW DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A RECIPE FOR SAUCE??” “Well,” said Fen “in my defence….” She stopped. She pondered. She found no answers. “It’s got flour on the pages, and I’m sure that’s a spot of butter” she mumbled, pointing. Lianne bent down and sniffed the pages. “That…. Is not butter, Fen.”

“Well, regardless,” said R’osalia “what are we going to do with it? I mean, it’s not exactly a threat but it can’t really stay here either, can it?” Fen patted the living bread affectionately “I dunno, it is rather lovely don’t you think? I mean, I’ve pulled worse things out of me cauldron!” “Fen” R’osalia sighed gently. “Oh all right” said Fen, “I guess we could have a word with the peeps down at the Wanderer’s Palace, I’m sure it’d fit in just fine down there, they’ve got all kinds of pudding roaming the halls.” “That’s settled then” Lianne grabbed the basket before Fen could change her mind and bolted for the door. She turned to see a solitary tear roll down the tiny lalafell’s rosy cheek and paused “oh for goodness sake, would you like to come too, Fen, so you can say goodbye properly?” Fen’s podgy hand quickly wiped an errant tear away and she smiled widely “oh yes please, I’d like that very much!” R’osalia helped Fen into her woolly coat and opened the door “come on then, let’s go introduce it to it’s new family.”

Alka Zolka stared at them and scratched her head. “And you say it was meant to be a sauce?” Fen shrugged “I mean he is kind of runny so it’s not like I was far off.” Doughma Parcel, as they had decided to name him, was sniffing at a chair leg and eyeing it up like a sunday roast. A long wet tongue slithered out and ran itself up the length of the wood. R’osalia lunged towards the blob and snatched him up before he could sink whatever teeth he had into the furniture. “Well, much as we’d like to offer the fine fellow a home, I’m not too sure he’d be well accepted amongst the bavarois, they’re not an entirely friendly bunch. We may have better luck entrusting him to the Scholars, I’m sure they wouldn’t be averse to such a familiar, he’d certainly make for an interesting study…..”

Before Alka could finish what he was saying, the doors of the marauders guild flew open as if propelled by a gust of unrivalled flatulence. A tiny figure bundled through the door, red eyes blazing, a scythe bigger than its very self dragging along the floor in its wake. Sparks flew as it cut across the stone floor and skidded to a halt just inches from where they stood. “HOL’ UP HOL’ UP!!” the smol bundle of fury cried, Fen leapt back, her arms flying up in surprise “YIN BRUV WOT THA FACK??” As the smoke and fumes cleared, the black shroud fell from Yin’s shoulders and she stood pointing insistently at Doughma Parcel growling. “MINE!!” “U wot mate?” Fen exclaimed “I cooked him up meself just this morning, how can he be yours?” Yin grinned “You been messing’ with that old cookery book of yours again, Fen? How many times I gotta tell you I left voidsent blood milk jug?” Stuttering, and looking decidedly bashful, Fen averted her face from the group gaze of her fellow fae. “I… may have forgotten” “GOOD GODS FEN WOT?” Screeched Lianne “HOW? HOW DO YOU MISTAKE VOIDSENT BLOOD FOR MILK?? IT’S NOT EVEN VAGUELY THE SAME COLOUR!!” Fen blushed “well, in my defence…” she began. She stopped. She pondered. And once again, found no answers. “You been smoking tha good shit again, ain’t you bruv?” Laughed Yin. “Shush you” muttered Fen fingering the half smoked cigarette she’d tucked behind her ear mid-cook. “Aaaaanyway, under fae law number 666 it clearly states that any voidsent accidentally summoned forthwith by one Fen Fae doth automatically become property of one Yinjae Ji on account of reasons. Lavi promised and you gotta do like lavi sez innit.” Lavi shrugged and let out a chuckle “She’s got you there Fen, I did indeed promise.” Lianne sighed “And what exactly are you gonna do with it, Yin, cos I swear to all the Gods if I find it in my mailbox again I will…. Probably get R’osalia to deal with it. And then you’ll have to deal with R’osalia.” R’osalia let out a chuckle “I’m sure Yin feels very threatened right now, we’ll played Lianne.” She patted Lianne on the back and turned to Yin. “Do you promise to take care of it and clean up any messes it leaves on the carpet?” “Yes ma’am” Yin gave an enthusiastic salute. “Well then, i declare this matter adjourned. Although we perhaps need to have a little chat Fen… and maybe get you some cookery lessons…. Or some thaumaturge lessons, I’m not entirely which at this point.”

Yin clapped her hands and ran towards Doughma Parcel, sweeping him up in her little lala arms and giving him a big squish. This, of course, led to considerable oozing, which, of course, did not perturb Yin in the slightest. “ERMAGHERD FEN YARA GONNA GO MAD WHEN SHE SEES HOW STICKEH HE IIIIISSSSS!!” Fen laughed and reached over to give Doughma a pat “Yes bruv, I reckon Yara gonna be delighted at all the mess you can get into with this one! Shall we go pay her a visit?”

Lianne and R’osalia watched as the three exited the building giggling in a way that brought very little comfort but a great deal of concern and turned to Lavi. “So, just a regular day in the fae, huh?” Said R’osalia. “Lavi smiled his usual coy smile “Mmmm,” he said “Don’t you just love it?”