Lothis
Malt's Gift (Secret Santa)
It was the Eve of Winter Veil, a time of gift-giving and reflection on all that the year past had brought, and what the next would bring. As quiet and strained as Rustberg had been of late, the turn-of-the-year cheer had proven infectious enough to overcome the lingering dread; roustabouts and sailors exchanged short toasts between tall tales in the Heart, while the village folk cut small trees for decoration and passed gifts from one to another at gatherings, parties of singing, red-cheeked souls moving from house to house in celebration, carrying lanterns and songs like especially boisterous fireflies. The transformation of the small Baradin community bordered on the storybook. Even the most truculent of Melisande’s wards had fully entered into the spirit of the season, with Kanestrius enthusiastically scribing what Khida, the twins, and even some of the township’s children’s wishes were for Greatfather Winter, dutifully marking down each heartfelt want.
The whole of it was nearly lost on Lothis. No one had thought to ask him, of course, as he swore and stumbled his way through the backdoor with the keg in his arms, but what Lothis wanted most was someone to blame.
After all, he wouldn’t be here in night’s early hours, rubbing his shoulders and scowling at the cask of Dalaran Red he’d nearly dropped onto the butcher’s block, but for Melisande. Or was it Caleigh? He hadn’t yet been able to determine which of the two was responsible for putting his name down for this inane exchange, and he put little stock in Greatfather Winter providing the answer. And so he’d ruminated and stewed over the past few weeks for this “secret gifting”, as his Siren called it through her laughs when she’d brought him the piece of paper, marked ‘Malt’, and instructed him to fetch a suitable present for the Heart’s chef.
Easier said than done! When he’d had the name, he’d yet to have seen the man in question - though Lothis could hardly have missed the towering Tauren when Malt did appear one Monday night, nearly scraping the rafters with his immense rack of antlers. There had been staring, of course. The labourer had never really seen one of the creatures up close, certainly not one with such a curious means of carrying his gear or tending to the kitchen. Night and day since then he’d wracked his brain for a gift that would satisfy (his barmaid’s conscience, at least, if not the lumbering bull). What did one get for an utter unknown? And one who had no need of simple, common-sense items, or was far outsized of them, like a sheltering cloak or a sturdy pair of traveling boots?
Past, now, he thought to himself as he trotted back to the door, fetching a paper-wrapped bundle that smelled of fish and sloshed, faintly, when it was deposited on top of the wine. Some good fortune had come during the Waylight Outreach’s meeting, for which he was grateful; while Malt’s inner workings were as much a mystery as before, Lothis had marked the light in the Tauren’s eye and the animated way his hands moved when discussing the kodo flank that had been painstakingly prepared for the Outreach. There would doubtless be an error in the gift, some lurking flaw - an allergy? a sensitivity to the must, perhaps? - that would mar the elf’s attempt, but this would be better than nothing, which was the next thing he could afford on his meagre funds.
He wrote his letter in the dark, leaned it against the cask and atop the butcher’s block before he slipped quietly away.
Chef Moosebelly,
These are for you to enjoy in your own fashion. Use or dispose of them as you wish. There’s some strangeness in assembling a gift for a stranger, if you’ll forgive the joke, doubly so for Winter’s Veil. I apologize if they’re not to your taste or the holiday's, as I’m unused to the trappings of the season. The turning of the year is celebrated quite differently in Quel’thalas, where Summer permanently reigns and jealously guards His demesne - our seasonal fare changes little when winter comes to lands south.
And it would be the fare that interested you most, I thought. I’m told you come from Highmountain, an isolated splinter high above the “Broken” Isles, so my hope is that there’s some novelty left in the foods of the Eastern Kingdoms. I trusted that a recipe would make a fitting gift, even if not well matched to Baradin winter cuisine.
The ingredients have all been gathered for you. First are Sagefish, freshly caught, large as they are old. Common wisdom holds that their flesh is saturated with mana over their long life and can clear the mind - you should find them dense and buttery. For accompaniment and experimentation, I’ve wrapped some balsamic vinegar alongside. You’d mentioned your kodo flank being treated with wine, leading me to wonder if you’d tasted must before. Sharp and sweet, well-suited for the stately Sagefish and more besides. A little goes a long way.
Last of all is the cask. Dalaran Red, unfortunately young. The thought had been to give you a bottle of wine, but good cheer should last for a meal, not a mouthful. Enjoy your Winter Veil.
Also? I’m sorry for staring at you so, Malt. No one should be made to feel like a curiosity in their own home, and you are clearly well at home here. Be well.
-L
