#vegetable parchment market

[chemicalsources]

Vegetable Parchment Paper Market Expansion: Bridging the Food Gap

Vegetable Parchment papers are resistant to moisture and grease, due to which they are widely used for purposes such as baking, roasting, reheating, and wrapping of food items. Vegetable parchment paper can be obtained in the form of sheets, precut rounds, and rolls. It is manufactured using the parchmentizing technique that involves passing the vegetable parchment paper via zinc chloride or sulphuric acid, which results in the bulging of the parchment fiber, making the paper dense, transparent, and grease-resistant with excellent wet-strength properties.

[chemicalresearchupdates]

Vegetable Parchment Paper Market Innovations: Cutting-edge Technologies and Developments

Vegetable parchment paper, also known as vegetable paper, is produced from cellulose fibers derived from wood pulp through a sulfite pulping process. Vegetable parchment paper has several advantages over conventional parchment paper such as it is odorless, tasteless, non-toxic and FDA approved for food packaging. Vegetable parchment paper is widely used for baking, food packaging, butter wrapping and other similar applications. The demand for vegetable parchment paper is increasing in the food and beverages industry owing to its grease and moisture resistance property and ability to provide texture and mouthfeel to bakery and confectionery items.The global vegetable parchment paper market is estimated to be valued at US$ 1.33 Bn in 2024 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 5.6% over the forecast period 2023 to 2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights.Market Opportunity:The opportunity in food packaging applications is expected to drive the growth of the vegetable parchment paper market over the forecast period. Vegetable parchment paper has high barrier properties against grease, moisture and gases which makes it suitable for food packaging applications. The increasing demand for convenience foods and longer shelf-life of packaged foods is augmenting the demand for effective food packaging materials like vegetable parchment paper. Additionally, properties like flexibility, transparency and wet strength of vegetable parchment paper allows it to retain food textures and improve handling of damp products making it preferred choice for various primary and secondary food packaging needs. The growth of the food Industry especially in developing regions is anticipated to present lucrative growth opportunities for vegetable parchment paper manufacturers during the forecast period.Porter’s AnalysisThreat of new entrants: Vegetable parchment paper requires machineries for manufacturing which requires huge capital investment restricting new players to enter. Bargaining power of buyers: Buyers have moderate bargaining power as there are numerous established manufacturers providing vegetable parchment paper. Bargaining power of suppliers: Suppliers have low bargaining power as raw materials for vegetable parchment paper such as wood pulp are commodity products available from numerous suppliers globally. Threat of new substitutes: There exists threat from paper substitutes; however due to vegetable parchment paper's grease and moisture resistance properties, substitutes pose low threat. Competitive rivalry: The global market is dominated by few key players intensifying competition.SWOT AnalysisStrengths: Vegetable parchment paper is ecofriendly, non-toxic and ideal for baking. It provides grease and moisture resistance extending product shelf-life.Weaknesses: Vegetable parchment paper is more expensive than conventional parchment or greaseproof papers. It has limitations in application compared to plastics.Opportunities: Rising demand for recyclable and sustainable food packaging offers opportunities. Growth in bakery and confectionery industries especially in Asia Pacific induces demand.Threats: Fluctuating raw material prices and increasing substitution threatens market. Stringent environmental regulations regarding plastic usage may impact substitutions.Key TakeawaysThe global vegetable parchment paper market is expected to witness high growth over the forecast period of 2023 to 2030.Regionally, Asia Pacific dominates the global market and is expected to grow at the fastest pace during the forecast period. Rising food production and processing industries drives demand.Key players operating in the vegetable parchment paper market are Co, Amol Paper Mills Pvt. Ltd, Kalpataru, Livriite Ventures, JK Paper, Black Label Paper Company, Nordic Paper, Tesco, Ahlstrom-Munksjö, Pudumjee Paper Products, Shaoxing Tianming PaperIndustry CO.,LTD, Sunrise Papers., Rockdude Impex Pvt. Ltd., Kraft Interactions., Taian Baichuan Paper KK, McNairn Packaging., COREX Group and Scan Holdings.

[cmibloggers]

Global Vegetable Parchment Paper Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To Rising Demand for Eco-Friendly Packaging Solutions

The global Vegetable Parchment Paper market is estimated to be valued at US$ 732.2 million in 2022 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 901.1% over the forecast period, according to a new report published by Coherent Market Insights.

A) Market Overview:

Vegetable Parchment Paper is a type of paper that is coated with silicone, making it non-stick, heat-resistant, and greaseproof. It is widely used in food packaging, baking, and cooking applications. The advantages of Vegetable Parchment Paper include its ability to withstand high temperatures without burning or sticking, its grease resistance, and its eco-friendly nature as it can be easily recycled. With the increasing focus on sustainable packaging solutions and the growing demand for convenient food packaging, the Vegetable Parchment Paper market is expected to witness significant growth.

B) Market Key Trends:

An important key trend in the Vegetable Parchment Paper market is the increasing demand for eco-friendly packaging solutions. As consumers become more aware of environmental issues, there is a growing preference for sustainable packaging options. Vegetable Parchment Paper offers a viable alternative to plastic-based packaging materials, as it is biodegradable and can be easily recycled. For example, Reynolds Consumer Products Inc., a key player in the market, offers Vegetable Parchment Paper that is chlorine-free and compostable. This trend is expected to drive the growth of the Vegetable Parchment Paper market.

C) PEST Analysis:

- Political: The political factors influencing the Vegetable Parchment Paper market include government regulations and policies related to packaging materials and waste management. For instance, increasing restrictions on single-use plastics and initiatives promoting sustainable packaging can create opportunities for the growth of Vegetable Parchment Paper.

- Economic: The economic factors influencing the market include income levels, consumer spending patterns, and the overall economic growth. As disposable incomes rise and consumer preferences shift towards eco-friendly products, the demand for Vegetable Parchment Paper is expected to increase.

- Social: The social factors influencing the market include changing consumer lifestyles, increasing health consciousness, and growing awareness of environmental issues. Consumers are seeking convenient and sustainable packaging solutions, which is driving the demand for Vegetable Parchment Paper.

- Technological: The technological factors influencing the market include advancements in paper manufacturing processes and the development of innovative coatings and treatments. These advancements enhance the properties of Vegetable Parchment Paper, making it more functional and suitable for various applications.

D) Key Takeaways:

- The global Vegetable Parchment Paper market is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting a CAGR of 901.1% over the forecast period, due to increasing demand for eco-friendly packaging solutions. For example, Tesco, one of the key players in the market, offers a range of Vegetable Parchment Papers that are recyclable and made from sustainable sources.

- Regionally, Europe is expected to be the fastest-growing and dominating region in the Vegetable Parchment Paper market. This can be attributed to strict regulations regarding plastic packaging waste and the growing preference for sustainable packaging options in the region.

- Key players operating in the global Vegetable Parchment Paper market include Reynolds Consumer Products Inc., Paterson Pacific Parchment Company, AMOL Group, JK Paper, Black Label Paper Company, Nordic Paper, and Tesco. These players are focusing on product innovation and sustainability to gain a competitive edge in the market.

In conclusion, the global Vegetable Parchment Paper market is expected to witness significant growth driven by the increasing demand for eco-friendly packaging solutions. With its unique properties and advantages, Vegetable Parchment Paper presents a sustainable alternative to plastic-based packaging materials. The market is anticipated to expand further, with Europe emerging as a prominent region for growth. Key players in the market are focusing on innovation and sustainability to cater to the evolving consumer demands.

[dawnbreaker-mylove]

𝑨𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒂𝒘𝒏

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction of the game Love and Deepspace. Some characters are from the game, and some are original characters. The rituals and traditions aren't from any specific religion. If there are any similarities to real people, it's purely coincidental.

Warnings: Human sacrifice. Not a lot is happening yet. Enjoy o(^o^)o

‘You are being offered to the gods!’

Your father had passed not long ago, leaving you with the responsibility of the crops before winter's cold breath overtakes the land. Since his passing, you’ve struggled to make ends meet, relying on your skills as a healer to bring in a meager income.

"Thank you, my dearest," the elderly woman you’ve been treating for weeks pressed your hand gently. She handed you a few copper coins, smiling in apology. "Please, take this. It’s all I have left." You smiled, though your heart ached for her. "This is more than enough." You placed half of the coins back into her hand. Her brows furrowed, but before she could protest, you shook your head. "You have your granddaughter to worry about. Keep it."

Her smile returned, and she kissed the back of your hand, a gesture of deep gratitude. "May the gods bless you, child."

You simply nodded, concealing the thoughts that crossed your mind. You hoped they would, but the weight of your troubles was heavy. "You should head back home now," you advised softly. "Your granddaughter will worry. Remember to take the medicine as I’ve instructed."

After she departed, a sigh of exhaustion escaped your lips. You walked back to your small workbench, surveying the scant collection of herbs you had left. Barely enough for even a small vial of cough syrup. With autumn approaching, the plants were dying, and you knew winter would bring with it a host of illnesses. Where would you find the resources to treat your patients?

Frustration bubbled within as you ran a hand through your hair, massaging your temples. Every solution you considered was met with even more problems.

"Why did you leave me, Father?" you chuckled bitterly, casting a glance at the bed where you had found his lifeless body. He had looked peaceful then, though his absence left a gaping wound in your heart. Swallowing the rising emotion, you stared at the ceiling, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I’ve never been a believer in the gods," you whispered, "but if you can hear me, I could use a miracle now. Anything."

At some point, weariness overtook you, and you didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until sunlight filtered through the cracks in the bamboo walls of your home. You blinked groggily, stretching your stiff limbs. The parchment beneath your hand was ruined, smeared with ink and tears from the night before. After cleaning up your workspace, you headed out to tend to the fields. The cold had already stunted most of the crops, but you gathered what little remained—potatoes, cabbages, carrots. It wasn’t much, but enough for a simple stew. Perhaps you could spare a bit of coin for meat at the market, though you doubted you had enough left for such a luxury.

As you set the vegetables on the table and began to wash the potatoes at the water pump, a knock sounded at the door. You rarely received visitors, except the taxman that pesters you despite already paying. Frowning, you glanced through the wooden slats of the door, startled to find three men standing outside. Their long robes already gave you a clue to who they were and you weren't at all thrilled to see priests by your home.

You opened the door slightly, enough to see their faces but no more. "How may I help you?" you asked, forcing a polite smile.

The men exchanged glances, clearly nervous. "Good morning, Miss," one of them greeted with a bow. "We do not intrude, I hope?"

"I have no pressing matters," you replied, though inwardly you wished you did. "What is it you need?"

"We come with an offer," said another, his tone bright. "One that could change your life."

You chuckled softly, waving them off. "I have no interest in joining the priesthood if that’s your intent."

"Wait!" the first priest stepped forward, a hand raised. "It’s not that. Please hear us out." He hesitated, sensing your annoyance. "We knew your father, may his soul rest in the afterlife. He was a man of great devotion, and we wish to honor his memory."

"How so?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

"We offer you a place to live, a life at the temple," the third priest chimed in.

"You want me to leave the only home I’ve ever known?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Not just leave, Miss," the first priest smiled warmly now. "We ask that you join us as our healer. A position of great respect."

Your eyes narrowed, though you opened the door a little more, intrigued. "And... you will compensate me for this?"

"Indeed, six gold coins each week," the third priest spoke, cutting in with a broad grin.

Six gold coins? Your breath caught in your throat. That amount could feed a family for weeks. Could they truly offer that much? Your skepticism must have shown, but the men only smiled, bowing deeply.

"We understand if you need time to consider," one of them said. "We will await your answer."

As they turned and left, you slowly closed the door, your heart racing in your chest. Six gold coins each week. You could be free of all your burdens. No more scraping by, no more worrying about the next meal. It seemed almost too good to be true.

Your gaze fell upon a crumpled sheet of parchment—an old drawing your father had made of you as a child. You smiled wistfully, remembering how he would mix herbs and flowers to create colors for his art.

"You’d want this, wouldn’t you, Father?" you whispered, clutching the paper to your chest. "You wouldn’t want me to stay here forever.”

The next morning, you tread through the village paths, dust rising from the worn roads beneath your sandals. The air smells of smoke from the cooking fires, and the bustle of townsfolk fills the narrow streets. As you pass the market, a tug on your sleeve pulls you to a halt. You glance down to see a woman sitting on the ground, her face streaked with soot and her clothes tattered. In her arms, a frail infant whimpers softly, its face ashen.

"Please," she says, her voice trembling, "spare a coin for my child."

Your heart aches at the sight. You hesitate, but your purse is light, and your own needs are many. "I am sorry," you whisper, offering a brief nod before stepping past her. As you continue walking, her voice rises behind you, sharp with bitterness. "Selfish wretch!" she spits. "May the gods curse your soul!"

The sting of her words follows you, but you push forward, quickening your steps. You reach the familiar herb stall and the scent of dried roots and fresh leaves greets you. The stall keeper looks up as you approach, her weathered face breaking into a kind smile.

"Good morning," she says, wiping her hands on her apron. You return the smile, though weariness etched in your face. "Do you have any ephedra left?" you ask.

The stall keeper's face falls slightly, and she shakes her head. "I’m afraid the last bundle was sold just yesterday."

"What?!" Your voice rises despite yourself, the exhaustion of sleepless nights gnawing at your patience. "There must be some left."

She glances at you with sympathy but remains firm. "Ephedra has been scarce, especially with the colder seasons approaching. What little we have is costly... two silvers for a bundle."

Your jaw tightens. "Two silvers?!" You grip the small leather pouch at your waist, feeling the few coins inside. "That’s absurd!"

The stall keeper raises her hands, her voice softening. "It is not my doing, Miss. The land is unforgiving, and the costs rise with the hardships."

You close your eyes for a moment, frustration throbbing in your temples. You know it is not her fault, yet the weight of the past weeks presses heavily on your spirit. She watches you with a look of pity, sighing under her breath. After a moment, she glances around, making sure no one else is watching.

"Here," she whispers, slipping a small bundle of ephedra from beneath her counter. "Take this. You needn't pay today."

Your breath catches, and you stare at her in surprise. "But—"

She waves a hand, silencing your protest. "You’ve been a loyal customer for many years. Consider it a kindness, just this once."

Humbled, you lower your head in gratitude. "I am in your debt."

She smiles softly. "No debt, child. We all need help sometimes.”

You leave the stall, wandering through the village aimlessly. The dull hum of life surrounds you—merchants haggling over prices, children chasing each other through the streets, and the faint sound of temple bells ringing in the distance. The acolytes must be drawing the morning prayers to a close. As the bells echo through the air, you remember the priests from the day before and their generous offer.

The thought weighs on you. It was your pride that kept you from rushing to their gates yesterday, the last thread of dignity preventing you from accepting so easily. But today, hunger gnaws at your stomach, and your exhaustion hangs heavy. There is no room for pride now.

With a resigned sigh, you gather what remains of your resolve and begin the slow walk toward the temple.

When you reach the entrance, the temple courtyard is alive with movement. Monks in simple robes and priestesses with flowing garments move gracefully through the courtyard, their serene faces untouched by the weariness that clings to you. The elegance of the priestesses catches your eye, their poise and beauty a stark contrast to your own worn cloak. Instinctively, you brush the dust from your clothes, though you know it will do little to change your appearance.

As you stand there, feeling out of place, one of the priests approaches. His face brightens with recognition, and he offers you a deep bow.

"Ah, you’re here," he says, his voice calm and respectful. "Have you given thought to our humble offer, Miss healer?"

You return his bow with a slight nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "That is why I am here," you reply, a hint of sarcasm lingers in your words.

The priest does not seem to notice or, more likely, chooses to ignore it. "The temple is honored by your presence. Come, let us discuss the terms in greater detail."

As he motions for you to follow, you cast one last glance around the courtyard. For all its beauty, this place feels like the beginning of something unknown.

Your footsteps echoed softly along the stone corridor of the temple, the quietness unsettling despite the sunlight filtering through the windows. Acolytes passed by with serene smiles, their movements graceful, yet the stillness clung to the air, making your skin prickle.

At the far end of the hallway, a towering hanging scroll caught your eye. It portrayed a mighty dragon, its scales glistening like emeralds, its eyes a molten gold that seemed to burn with life. The more you looked, the more alive the creature seemed, as if its gaze was not just painted but truly watching, its eyes locked onto yours. It felt as though it were measuring you, silently judging your worth.

"Wait here," the priest said, his voice low, before disappearing into a nearby room. Left alone under the dragon's relentless stare, you shifted uncomfortably, rubbing your arm as unease crept over you.

Your thoughts drifted to the old stories, the ones you had heard growing up—the Four Great Dragons, gods that ruled over these vast lands. The god of light, the god of the underworld, the god of the sea, and the god of the mountains.

You had heard their names whispered in reverence and fear, their legends woven into every corner of life. Now, in the presence of the dragon’s piercing gaze, those stories felt more tangible than ever. There was something powerful in the ink and silk, as if the gods themselves could see you through the dragon’s eyes.

You swallowed the discomfort and took a steadying breath, standing in the stillness of the temple hall, waiting for the priest’s return, but never quite able to shake the feeling that you were not alone.

“You seem intrigued,” came a calm voice from behind. You startled, nearly losing your composure, having been too absorbed in the painting to notice anyone in the halls. Turning swiftly, you were met with a handsome face. He was tall, with an air of quiet authority. His eyes, a mix of green and gold, gleamed with intelligence and something you couldn't quite place.

“I suppose you recognize the god?” he asked, gesturing with a graceful hand toward the dragon on the scroll.

Heat crept up your neck as you glanced back at the painting, searching your memory for any scrap of knowledge. “I do not,” you admitted, feeling a bit stupid. “Do you?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he crossed his arms, his gaze lingering fondly on the painting. “The Master of Fate,” he began, his tone reverent. “The god of the mountains and prophecy. A patron of healers, guiding those who treat the body and spirit.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly, recalling faint stories your father used to tell in the evenings. “Ah, yes,” you nodded slowly. “This temple is dedicated to him, is it not?”

“Indeed,” he replied. “Centuries ago, when man struggled to survive in these lands, it was he who helped them prosper. He watches over this region still.”

You nodded again, though your thoughts were less on the history of the gods and more on the man before you. His presence was magnetic, and despite the grbandeur of the temple, your attention kept drifting back to him. “Are you a priest, then?” you inquired, though he did not wear the robes of one.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Merely a traveler,” he replied.

“Where have you traveled from then?”

“The mountains of the northeast,” he answered smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “And you? Are you a priestess?”

You shook your head with a soft laugh, shrugging slightly. “No, and I do not wish to be.”

His laughter followed, rich and warm, filling the quiet hallway. “I should have known,” he said, covering his mouth as if to temper the sound. “A priestess would have known her god at once.”

You smiled, your amusement matching his. “I thought my clothes gave it away.”

He tilted his head slightly, his fingers brushing ever so lightly against your shoulder. “Your beauty was distracting,” he murmured, his voice lower now, laced with sincerity. “I could think of nothing else.”

Your breath caught for a moment, the casualness of his words somehow disarming. The priest returns, grabbing both yours and the stranger's attention. You were disappointed that you had to leave, but you smiled at him nonetheless. “I'll see you around then,” you said to him, bowing.

The man bows back, his gaze locked in yours. “I look forward to it.”

The man leaves, your disappointment only growing as he walks farther. You turned back to the priest and stepped inside the room. Your eyes widened as a line of acolytes and priestesses stood waiting, each holding trays laden with silk, gold, and delicate jewelry. Their faces were serene, as though this display of opulence was an everyday affair. Confusion swept over you, and you glanced toward the priest who had led you here.

Before the question could form on your lips, he spoke softly, “It is tradition to present gifts to new members of the temple.”

"Ah," you nodded slowly, though the gesture felt strange. Gifts? For you? You had expected a modest welcome, perhaps a meal or a bed to rest, not such lavish offerings. Before you could fully process the scene, the acolytes stepped forward with quiet precision, deftly stripping you of your worn clothes without hesitation.

A wave of vulnerability washed over you as you instinctively crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from the sudden exposure. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but none of them seemed to notice—or perhaps they simply did not care. The silk garments were placed upon you with practiced grace, the cool fabric gliding over your skin, while necklaces, bracelets, and hair ornaments were draped and fastened.

“This is unnecessary,” you murmured, glancing toward the priest, your voice edged with discomfort. But he said nothing, his gaze steady as he watched the transformation unfold, as though it were something he had witnessed many times before.

When at last you were fully adorned, the weight of the jewelry resting heavily on your arms and neck, anxiety bubbled up inside you. The rich fabric felt foreign, the gold cold against your skin. You had not asked for this, nor had you expected it. Your heart raced, uncertain of what would come next. What did all this mean?

The acolytes and priestesses stepped back, their duty complete, leaving you standing in the center of the room, feeling more like a relic on display than a healer.

“Drink this,” the priest said, offering a porcelain tea cup with an air of calm authority. The liquid inside was familiar, yet its name escaped you. You furrowed your brow, eyeing him warily. “What is in it?”

“Ah, do you now doubt the goodwill of a holy man?” His tone was smooth, yet there was a slight edge, almost mocking. “If I had ill intentions, would I have brought you here so openly?”

Your eyes narrowed, catching the subtle hint of condescension in his voice. Without a word, you took the cup, never breaking your gaze from his. The room seemed to hold its breath as you brought the cup to your lips, the silence thick between you. The liquid slid down your throat, bitter and foul, forcing you to swallow hard to keep it down. The taste lingered, making your stomach churn.

Almost immediately, a wave of heat surged through your body, and your vision began to blur. You staggered, feeling the strength drain from your limbs. “Shit...” you muttered, the world tilting dangerously around you. Your body collapsed to the ground, the cold stone floor meeting you as darkness began to creep in from the edges of your sight.

The last thing you saw were their figures—silent, watchful—standing over you as your vision slipped away into blackness.

Your eyelids fluttered open, and the icy grip of the night air sent a shiver through your body. The thin silk draped over you was no match for the sharp bite of the wind. You blinked against the harsh glow of nearby flames, your eyes adjusting to the flickering light of the hearth behind you. It took a moment for your senses to return, and when they did, you realized you were surrounded—priests, monks, acolytes, and priestesses all stood in solemn silence, their eyes fixed upon you.

Your breath quickened as you tried to sit up, but your wrists were bound tightly. Panic surged in your chest. “What is the meaning of this?!” you demanded, your voice cutting through the rhythmic chants that filled the courtyard. You gritted your teeth, struggling against the ropes that held you to no avail. The priest from earlier stepped forward, a shadow in the firelight, his expression unreadable as he helped you sit.

“Greetings, Miss healer,” he said, his voice disturbingly calm.

“You!” you spat, your contempt for him now bare and unrestrained. “You tricked me!”

The man only shrugged, a hint of indifference in his movement. “I merely obey the will of those above me.” The chants grew louder, their sound sending a chill down your spine. The air grew heavier, the weight of something unseen pressing down on you.

“Whose orders?” you snapped, though deep down, the answer already stirred uneasily within you.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he made a subtle gesture, and an acolyte stepped forward, carrying a tray. On it lay a silver dagger, gleaming ominously in the firelight, the blade catching and reflecting the flicker of flames. The sight of it sent your pulse racing, the air around you thick with foreboding. “Rejoice, Miss healer,” the priest said with a fervent gleam in his eyes as he thrust the hilt of the dagger into your hands, compelling you to grip it tightly. “You are to be offered to the gods.”

He turned away, his voice rising above the chants that enveloped the courtyard like a thick fog. “Tonight,” his voice reverberating against the stone walls, “we shall bear witness to a miracle! Tonight, the god of the mountains will descend once more, gracing us with his divine presence!”

With a swift motion, he raised your arms, positioning the dagger’s tip against your throat. A cruel smile curled upon his lips as he pressed the blade into your skin, the sharp edge biting deep enough to draw blood. Warm droplets trickled down your chest, and you gasped, your heart racing. It was then that a deep rumble echoed in the distance—thunder, or perhaps something else?

Before you could fully grasp the moment, everything spiraled into chaos. You felt a sudden, fierce grip wrap around your torso, lifting you from the ground. The flames of the hearth shrank away, growing distant with each passing heartbeat. The air grew thin, and dizziness washed over you, making it difficult to breathe. The chants swelled around you, now a cacophony of voices rising to the heavens, while you hung suspended in the grip of the unknown, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribcage.

Chapter 2

[leohtttbriar]

"The scribes of the Middle Ages wrote predominantly in iron gall ink, the product of an elegant four-ingredient recipe. Certain wasps implant their eggs in the leaves and smaller branches of oak trees. This process produces in the tree a gall: a lump of tannin-rich material in which the larvae grow. When ground and boiled in water with a sprinkle of iron sulfate and some gum of arabic, the mixture of insect and vegetable chemicals in the gall with the mineral of the iron forms a pigment stable enough to carry around in a little flagon and acid enough to stain parchment for a few millennia. "It’s not hard to find the ingredients, as long as you know what to look for. To learn about oak gall, an aspiring European ink maker would consult a botanical guide called a herbal. Just as useful to a nun in her walled herb garden, a commercial pharmacist, and a parent in a medical emergency, the herbal was in high demand but, until the advent of the printing press, expensive to produce. Publishers in the earliest years of mechanical printing activated this latent market, and herbals became one of the first popular printed nonfiction genres. These pre-Linnaean textbooks established graphic design protocols that have shaped the way curious minds learn and process plant science ever since."

"Aloe, Basil, Cash Crop," Jo Livingstone

Perceptions of Medieval Manuscripts, Elaine Treharne

[sliebman10]

Market

"Sweet potatoes…spinach…dried chickpeas…tomatoes," Remus narrated as he unpacked the tote. "Had fun at the farmer's market, Pads?"

Sirius took the vegetables from Remus and lined them up on the counter. "I did, thanks for asking."

"Are these just random vegetables…or do you have a plan for these?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, Moony," Sirius said, stealing a kiss.

Later, he contemplated the ingredients and pulled out a sheaf of yellowing parchment with familiar, swirly cursive writing. Effie had given him her recipes, rightly thinking James would have no use for them. He felt her presence strongly at that moment, in the kitchen with him and could almost hear her directing him.

Renys came down and sniffed. "Smells delicious…what are you making?" he asked, peeking in the pot.

"Vegetable curry," Sirius replied, offering him a spoon to taste.

"That's amazing, Pads," Remus said.

"Good. It's Effie's recipe."

@wolfstarmicrofic

[mariacallous]

Shirley Temple may have liked animal crackers in her soup, but if she were Jewish, I’d bet shekels to sufganiyot that she would have preferred shkedei marak.

Also calledmandlach or mandlen in Yiddish, shkedei marak (which means ‘soup almonds’ in Hebrew) is the broad term for croutons of diverse forms that are used as an accompaniment or garnish for soups and stews. However, because of their exterior resemblance to nuts, they are affectionately and most popularly known as “soup nuts.” 

Like “grape nuts,” “soup nuts” do not contain legumes. Soup nuts are thought to have originated in Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine as a workaround of sorts to enjoy some (unleavened) starch with your soup during Passover. Their savory, crunchy mouthfeel eventually led them to be a staple accoutrement year-round, and prominent Jewish food manufacturers began adding them permanently to their product lines. Although for decades the Osem brand had the corner on the market with regards to mass-produced soup nuts, other companies, such as Vita and Knorr now offer competing varieties. Today, you can even get your soup nuts fix on Amazon, with the added bonus of reading pithy reviews, such as: “kind of like Jewish oyster crackers, but kosher.”

While soup nuts traditionally are formed to look like petite nuts, they have appeared as rings, stars and fish (take that, goy Goldfish!). 

If you love shkedei marak, but don’t favor store-bought versions, DIY soup nuts require minimal culinary prowess. The most basic recipes call for eggs, matzah meal (or wheat flour) and vegetable shortening or oil. Once you have assembled the dough, simply roll it by hand into small balls and bake on a parchment-lined sheet on high heat until the surface of the spheres is a cozy chocolate brown. You can also deep-fry your dough balls to produce a terrific circumferential crisp that stays crunchy even when fully immersed in broth. Season with salt and pepper, though for additional dimensions of botanical flavor, I suggest dried garlic or rosemary. 

Soup nuts are considered a comfort food in the collective Jewish culinary consciousness, and are often nostalgically referenced in popular media. For example, in Jermon Charyn’s crime novel, “Elsinore,” former hitman Sidney Holden bonds with Brian Calendar over his enjoyment of “soup with special little nuts.”

Soup nuts (as the name implies) are intended to be scattered over soup, and due to their versatile pareve status, can be liberally sprinkled over dairy, as well as meat-based broths. Manischewitz, however, encourages its customers to branch out with regards to deploying soup nuts, and sprinkle over salads and even desserts (their packaging includes a recipe for mandlen strawberry trifle). And while soup nuts are ostensibly a side-note to soup, their toothsome flavor and addictive texture has led them to evolve to the status of stand-alone snack. In other words, it is totes kosher to chow down on shkedei marak in and of themselves — no spoon required. 

[drustvar]

Ch. 17: Hourglass

Julian and Rosie embark on the search for a legend. FT. chatting with grandma

WC: 1.7k + A/N: What is it with these filler chapters that keeps giving me so much trouble? I'm choosing to blame the heat it is outrageously hot where I live right now my brain is being boiled away to NOTHING Ao3 link in reblog || full text under cut

The noonday sun was high and hot in the sky as Rosie made her way back to the shop. Since being employed at the Palace, she had learned a handful of shortcuts that made the journey much faster, even if it involved some light trespassing. 

Rosie hoped Julian had done as she had told him, and stayed in the shop for the night. She knew he’d be safe there, Palace guards were usually scarce around that part of town; and even so she kept a ward against them buried in the shop’s garden. Although her memories of it were fuzzy, she could still remember the day it was made. Her aunt had instructed her and Asra to steal something from one of the guards in the market, something small but still representative of the Palace. It had seemed like a daunting task for two young teenagers, but they had the good fortune of finding a guard taking lunch at one of the cafes, and were able to swipe his helmet. She remembered how the magic felt in her hands as her aunt had instructed her how to form the ward, how it crackled over her fingers, how the magic felt sharp and hot; stalwartly guarding the home against the Palace’s prying eyes. She made sure to renew it every summer, it was just one of the regular chores that had to be done as the seasons changed. 

“Julian?” Rosie called as she locked the door behind her. The house was silent, save for the old wood beams creaking as it settled. ‘ What if he never made it here, what if he was caught before -’ Before her thoughts could begin to spiral, she found the parchment that had been laid carefully on the glass counter, held in place with one of her tea tins. The writing on it was messy chicken scratch, but she could still make out what was written:

‘My dearest Rosie, I hope my absence hasn’t made you worry, I assure you I arrived here safe and sound.

I had to leave at first light for Mazelinka’s house. Meet me there.

I am terribly sorry I couldn’t stay here longer, but you know how grandmothers worry. See you soon. 

All my heart, Julian.’

Rosie smiled and kept the note folded close to her heart the entire trip to the South End, tracing the  words he had written over and over as she made her way to Mazelinka’s house. She’d hardly even knocked on the door before Julian had thrown it open, the clattering of kitchenware following in his wake.

“Ah, there you are!” He said, a faint flush to his cheeks. “You found my note, right? I knew if I wasn’t there you’d worry.” Rosie grinned and waved the folded paper. He smiled in return, looking relieved. Before he could speak again, Mazelinka was shooing him out of the doorway. 

“How many times do I have to tell you lingering in doorways is bad luck? You too girl,” the old woman herded Rosie inside the cottage. “It’s about time you got here, boy’s been driving me crazy with all his pacing and hand-wringing.” 

“Oh dear, is that true?” Rosie stifled a laugh. 

“Uh, well I,” Although Julian had his back to her as he straightened the pots and pans he’d upset in his hurry to answer the door she could see his ears were a bright shade of red. “I was just worried that you may have gotten tied up with something at the Palace, that’s all.” 

“Oh they try, but so far I’ve always managed to wriggle my way out,” Rosie snorted as she brushed past him, her hand lingering on his waist. The smell of familiar spices and herbs was billowing out of the cauldron on the hearth, inside was a bubbling, amber colored stew. She watched as Mazelinka tasted it; the old woman’s nose wrinkled as she shook her head and threw another handful of dried vegetables in. 

“Needs a minute more,” she muttered. “Sit, sit. Won’t cook if you keep watching it,” she motioned for Rosie to have a  seat at the table with her spoon. 

“So then,” Julian pulled his chair up right beside Rosie, close enough that their shoulders brushed. She didn’t hesitate to lean against him when he laid his arm across the back of her chair. “What’s our plan? That is uh, if you found out anything new this morning. If not, then…” He trailed off and made a ‘ we-could-just-stay-here-today ’ motion with his hands. 

“Well, Asra and I had a talk-” “Oh, you uh, you did?” Julian asked with a worried crease to his brows. “Did he uhm…did he say anything about me?” “Nothing important,” Rosie said as she squeezed his hand. She saw no reason to dredge up whatever drama had been between them, especially as she was beginning to think Asra was more than biased against him. “Not about you, anyway. He did tell me though that if we wanted answers we should ‘ seek the Scourge of the South’ , whatever the hell that means. Said whoever this ‘Scourge’ is would be at the coliseum, but that’s been abandoned for years.” 

“Ah, not entirely my dear,” Julian said with a gleam in his eye. “Asra, you sly dog, what were you doing poking around there?” 

“I don’t understand..?”

“I’m not surprised,” Julian said as he got back to his feet. “I wouldn’t have expected you to have ever poked your nose around the Red Market. It’s a shady place, and you my dear aren’t the shady sort.” “I’d heard the stories about folks livin’ in the tunnels underground, practically havin’ a whole other city down there,” Rosie said. “ You mean it's true?”

“Most certainly! And the Red Market is - or at least used to be the center hub, and as it just so happens  I used to be a card-carrying member.”

“If that’s where you kids are headed you’d better take some of this,” Mazelinka said, her back turned to them as she stirred the soup. “It’s no place for an empty stomach.”  “Since when have you ever been there?” 

“None of your business,” Mazelinka brandished her spoon in his direction. “Go get your things and get out of my hair.” 

Julian didn’t wait to be told again, hurriedly ducking around the curtain to the bedroom off the kitchen. Rosie watched him go, wishing they could have sat together in the glow of the hearth for just a minute more.

“Help me with this, will you,” Mazelinka said as she sat a heavy canister on the table  and nodded at the cauldron. Rosie easily hefted it and held it steady as the older woman spooned out its contents. “Make sure he eats,” she said, a worried crease in her brow. “He’s too skinny as it is.” 

“I will, don’t worry,” Rosie said as she tightened the canister’s lid and placed it into her bag.

“He really does brighten up when you’re around,” the corners of the old woman’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “It’s good to see. Haven’t seen him like this in a long time, was starting to wonder if he’d forgotten how.” 

Rosie knew exactly what she was talking about. Even still, there was a deep rooted melancholy visible in Julian’s eyes, a certain gloominess in the way he carried himself; once one looked closely they could see how it colored his bravado and how he would mask it. She knew how it felt, and she wanted to believe that she was helping him escape it. 

“Does he talk about me much?” Rosie asked as she sat back down, fiddling absentmindedly with the belt of her dress.

“Huh! Does he talk about you,” Mazelinka laughed as she started to scrub the now empty cauldron. “Practically all he does. You should have seen the way he was bellyaching and worrying before you got here, nearly wore a hole in my floor with his pacing. ‘ Oh, Mazelinka, do you think she’s alright? Did she get back to the Palace safe? I shouldn’t have let her go back alone, that was horrible of me, what if she’s been hurt because of me? ’ She imitated his voice as she bustled around the kitchen. 

Rosie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Isn’t that something, I was worrying the same things about him.” 

“You struck a good match then,” Mazelinka laughed too as she swept some eggshells into a flower pot. “You can both worry yourselves sick over each other. He really was ready to go up there himself and start looking for you, you know.” 

“Thank you for keeping him from doing that, I’d never forgive myself if he was hurt because of me.” 

Mazelinka grunted as she wiped a cutting board down. “Take him off my hands for me, will you? And don’t let go, he’s a slippery boy.” 

‘I won’t ,’ Rosie thought. ‘I’ve sunk my claws in and I’m never letting go .’

“Are you talking  about me behind my back again?” Julian asked as he emerged from behind the curtain.  “What have I told you about eavesdropping, Ilya?” 

The tips of his ears were bright red, matching the lining of his coat. “I wasn’t! But uhm, well I heard my name being said and started to wonder if  you were telling tales again.” 

“Nonsense. Never told a tale in my life. Now get out of my house,” she said as she gestured at the door with her spoon. She gave Rosie a wink before she shut the door behind them. 

“Hey,” Rosie caught his sleeve and pulled him into a hug so tight he let out a small, surprised noise. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Julian said as he returned her embrace with equal strength. “What uhm, what Mazelinka said is true, you know. I think about you a lot…all the time, even,” he rested his chin on the top of her head as he spoke. “I’m still counting all my lucky stars that I have you on my side.”  She pressed closer against him as he ran his fingers through her hair. “So,” Julian offered her his arm. “You ready?” Rosie nodded as she linked their arms. “Lead the way.” 

“I warn you, the Vesuvia underground isn’t for the faint of heart, my dear. That place requires the sharpest of wits and the steelest of nerves.” 

“I think I’ll manage. I’ll be sure to keep my eye on you, though,” she teased. The way Julian laughed filled her heart with warmth and a sense of hope. Maybe some lucky stars really were on their side.

[beth--b]

Sacrifice

Jaskier, Ciri and Geralt had been travelling for weeks with minimal interactions with people or towns.

Although it was necessary for all their safety, Jaskier was dying for the chance to visit a marketplace and buy some of the many things they were low on, or out of completely. They were low on coin as well and while Geralt was quite noticeable with his white hair, Jaskier the bard was also a well known name.

After days of arguments on the topic they finally decided that Geralt would take the next contract he could find, while Jaskier and Ciri bought supplies.

It would be easier for Geralt to approach the alderman alone, and would draw less attention than a performance from a renowned bard.

The two days it took to reach a town after they finally made their decision were two of the longest Jaskier had ever experienced, or at least that's how it felt.

Finally the day came that they reached the town. It wasn't a big city by any means but it was large enough that there was a market square bustling with life.

They parted ways before they came too close to town, Geralt approaching before them and heading for the notice board while Jaskier and Ciri, hoods up, followed at a more leisurely pace.

The Witcher made eye contact with the bard across the square and gave an almost imperceptible nod, then after partially tearing a piece of parchment from the board he strode off.

Read it here on ao3

Jaskier was sure to wait a few minutes before making a pass by the notice board himself. He briefly glanced at the torn parchment noting the contract Geralt had taken was for drowners. A quick simple job usually, not the greatest for coin but it would be done in an afternoon and would get them through as long as Jaskier spent what they currently had wisely.

"Will he be long?" Ciri asked, breaking Jaskier out of his musings.

"Hmm? Oh, no I'd say not. Simple contract shouldn't take long at all really. While he's gone we need to replenish our supplies," he looped their arms together and began to lead Ciri around the small market, explaining what they needed as they walked so she could help keep an eye out for the items they were after.

They spent the afternoon browsing the market, picking up a few essentials, some fruits and vegetables, some bread, a few herbs and some ink among other things. Ciri looked longingly at the sweets on offer and Jaskier figured with the coin Geralt would be adding to their shared purse later in the day he could splurge a little and let Ciri pick out something sweet from the baker.

The girl had just finished licking her sticky fingers clean when a group of soldiers came wandering out of the nearby tavern.

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed as he pulled Ciri’s hood more firmly over her pale hair. He couldn’t be sure from this distance but he was fairly confident that the insignia they wore was that of Nilfgaard.

Ciri gave a questioning look, following his gaze before her own eyes widened in surprise.

“Jaskier, what do we do?” she asked quietly, looking around the market like Geralt would magically reappear just because she wished it.

“We lay low and make our way out of town. Geralt will come find us once the contract is done if he sees that we’ve left. Don’t worry dear we have contingency plans for this very thing.”

Plan in place the pair slowly resumed walking around the market, this time keeping their heads down a little more, while they were slowly making their way towards the road back out of town.

Jaskier kept an eye on the soldiers, while also looking out for Geralt. He hoped the Witcher would show up, but at the same time he knew Geralt would be easily spotted with his well known white hair.

After enough time had passed so as to not seem suspicious, he was almost certain they were home free as they began to walk out of the market and back towards the main road.

They would make their way down the road to where they parted earlier and head into the woods a little.

Everything was going fine until a young child, maybe ten years old or so, came barrelling down a side street and crashed into the pair, sending both Jaskier and Ciri sprawling.

The commotion drew the attention of a number of locals, as well as the very much unwanted attention of the soldiers, who by that stage had been making their own way across the marketplace, likely gathering their own supplies for the road.

Ciri’s hood came off as she fell and the flash of ash blonde hair was enough to draw the interest of the soldiers.

The small band of men began to stride purposefully towards them, their voices growing louder and one of them beginning to point.

“Shit. Ciri, you need to run. Don’t stop, don’t look back. Just run fast as you can and find Geralt. He’ll keep you safe,” Jaskier whispered hurriedly, eyeing the men who were drawing ever nearer.

Ciri looked ready to protest, but after only a moment she looked away and nodded, taking off at a run down the street.

As Ciri ran the soldiers began to run as well, shouting now and calling for her to halt and to declare herself.

Jaskier put himself between Ciri and the soldiers. He knew there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out but he would buy her whatever time he could. He pulled his dagger from boot, knowing it would be no good against a sword, and faced the Nilfaardians who would threaten a child.

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Jaskier called, dagger held low but ready.

“State your name and get that girl back here,” the first to arrive stated, he was shorter than Jaskier but a little older and had a scar across his cheek. He had a hand on the hilt of a sword sheathed at his waist.

“Ah good sir, my name is Julian. That was my daughter, you merely startled her-” Jaskier was cut off by the sword aimed for his throat by another of the soldiers, this one a younger man, dark hair obscuring part of his face. What Jaskier could see looked cold and cruel and he gulped, staring at the sword.

“Don’t fucking lie to us you piece of shit, where’s the girl gone to? Tell us and we’ll make your death a quick one.”

Jaskier plastered a fake smile on his face, and got ready to move out of the way if the soldier tried to take his head off.

“Now, now good sir, there’s no need to threaten violence. If you’ll wait right here I’ll go retrieve her for you,” he said, backing away a step, trying to get some distance between himself and the blade.

“I don’t think so,” the first soldier sneered, drawing his own weapon and closing the distance between them.

Jaskier knew he couldn’t fight a sword with a dagger. However, he also knew how to fight dirty. One doesn’t survive long as a travelling bard without picking up a few tricks.

As the soldier began to thrust his blade towards Jaskier, the bard ducked and rolled beneath the blade, using the momentum to get back up again and twisted so he was behind the man, using his dagger to cut deeply into the man’s sword arm. The soldier yelled at the unexpected pain and dropped his sword.

Dropping to the ground once more Jaskier grabbed the fallen weapon. He hated swords, but Geralt had taught him the basics and he intended to use anything at his disposal to keep these bastards away from Ciri as long as possible.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how long he held out before one of them got a good hit in. He had suffered deep laceration to his left arm, the injury causing him to falter and allowing another of the men to get close enough to hit him in the head with the pommel of their sword.

Disoriented, he dropped to the ground and rough hands grabbed him before dragging him away from the road and back to the inn.

Jaskier was vaguely aware of the soldiers shouting at the patrons to get out or suffer the same fate as him.

Suffice to say that the inn was empty within a matter of moments, the barmaid throwing him a pained look as though she wished she could help him on her way out the door.

“Now you can be a good lad and tell us what we want to know and we can end this nice and quick, or you can spend the next few days here with us and we will get it out of you anyway. This’ll be my last offer,” the man speaking to him seemed to be the leader. The others waited to the side while this one grabbed Jaskier by the hair and held his face up to look him in the eye.

Jaskier’s head was throbbing and he felt like he would pass out if not for the insistent pain of his hair being pulled and the man practically spitting his face.

“I told you, my daughter was just startled. She’s probably already come back looking for me-” a fist crunched into his cheek bone and Jaskier stifled a sob. He really wasn’t cut out for this whole torture thing.

It went on in this manner until it was dark. The soldiers kept asking him questions, Jaskier dancing around the truth and refusing to tell them anything of real substance.

He was fairly sure that he passed out at one stage.

Even Nilfgaardian soldiers were only human though, and after what felt like days, but was probably only hours, all but one of the small group headed off to sleep.

The one on guard duty simply tied him to the chair he was sat upon and went to keep a look out.

Jaskier hoped that Ciri had found Geralt. He hoped that they were far away. He hoped they would rescue him. Some of these things were rather contradictory but he was a bard, not a hardened soldier or mercenary. He didn’t want to die here being tortured, though he would if it would only save Ciri.

The night passed slowly, the men swapping out guard duty every two hours so they all got sleep.

Jaskier drifted in and out of consciousness and waited for the dawn to come, mentally preparing himself for another day of being beaten and tortured.

An hour or so before dawn one of his wishes came true when Geralt silently climbed through a back window of the inn when the guard was nodding off.

The soldier startled awake when he saw the intruder but was quickly silenced when Geralt ran him through with his steel sword.

Geralt made quick work of cutting the ropes keeping Jaskier bound, and slung the bard’s less injured arm around his own broad shoulders.

“Geralt, you need to get Ciri out of here. Just leave me, I’ll slow you down,” Jaskier insisted as Geralt half carried him out of the inn and into the darkness of the sleeping town beyond.

“Shut up Jask, Ciri is fine. I'm not leaving you behind," Geralt said firmly, as he continued to lead the bard through the town.

Realising how serious Geralt was Jaskier opted to keep his mouth shut and focus on trying to walk.

By the time they were out of the town and in the forest to the side of the road Jaskier's injuries and exhaustion were catching up to him. More than once Geralt had to catch him as he stumbled.

After the third instance Geralt just closed the space between them and pulled Jaskier to a halt.

"Come on, let me help you," he motioned Jaskier closer before bending as he wrapped one arm around the bard's lower back, the other beneath his knees as he deftly lifted the younger man into his arms.

Too tired to fight it, Jaskier just let himself be carried back to wherever Geralt had left Ciri squirrelled away in wait for their return.

“I’d never leave you behind Jask. You know that. Rest now and we’ll be back at camp soon,” Geralt murmured.

Feeling warm at Geralt’s words despite the situation he did just that. Letting himself drift and trying to focus on anything other than the pain he was in while Geralt carried him back to the most important thing in either of their lives.

[grey-gazania-fic]

A Gift of Words

In pre-Darkening Tirion, a bookish young girl receives a significant gift. Rated G.

"Up you go, Maryë," Poldasámo said, lifting his young daughter into the back of the wagon and setting her among the vegetables. "Be careful; we don't want the cabbages bruising, and we especially don't want you bruising."

Maryacúnë tucked her legs under her skirt as a precaution against the dawn's chill and settled on the dew-dampened wood between a gunny sack of potatoes and the wrapped bread and cheese Elencalë had packed for their lunch, hoping that the seat of her dress would dry as Laurelin waxed. "I'll be careful, Atto," she answered. "May I take orders for Mistress Almarë today, please?"

"If she'd like you to." Poldo rested his hand fondly atop her head for a moment before climbing up beside his wife on the wagon's bench.

"What book are you saving for, sweet pea?" Elenë turned and smiled at her daughter. "You've read that book of fables through at least six times now; have you memorized it?"

The fables had been good - some funny, some serious, and many interesting - but Maryë had been disappointed to find that she knew most of the words already. "I did like the stories," she said as Poldo clicked his tongue at the horse and the wagon began rolling towards Tirion. "But I think I'd like to try a history book next."

"You should ask Haru and Haruni about history. You know they made the Great Journey; they tell you lots of stories."

"Not history like that," Maryë said with a thoughtful frown. "Not what happened on the Journey - how the Journey happened, how King Finwë organized it. That kind of history."

"Do they write books about that?" Elenë asked.

Maryë nodded solemnly and settled carefully against the burlap. "I've seen one at Master Tatyacambo's shop."

"Well, with luck it will be there still when you've saved enough to buy it," Poldo said cheerfully, winking at his wife when he was certain Maryë wouldn't see. "Now, it's a long trip - let's sing something!" The family sang songs and told stories, and Maryë listened and watched the scenery until Tirion came into view; from that point on the traffic on the roads steadily increased, and the air quickly filled with the creak of wagons and chatter of other men and women.

"It's crowded today," Elenë observed as Poldo guided the wagon slowly through the streets to their usual spot in the market square. "We should do good trade." Maryë looked around curiously. There was always so much to see in the marketplace that enduring the noise and bustle seemed a worthwhile exchange - the booths of craftsmen and merchants and the great crowd of elves, some in clothes as plain as her own, some in rich brocades with fine embroideries, and many somewhere in between.

"I'm glad we thought to bring the new potatoes," Poldo said. "And I think Mistress Almarë might need your help after all, Maryë." He climbed down from the wagon to tend to their horse, and Elenë lifted her daughter to the ground and handed her one of the bundles of bread and cheese.

"Run along, sweet pea; I'll come fetch you when we're ready to go, all right?"

"All right, Amil." Maryë hugged Elenë around the waist and pressed her face into her skirt, breathing in the smell of soap and carrots that always clung to her mother. She pulled away after a moment and trotted off through the crowd toward Almarë the baker's booth.

"Maryë!" Almarë greeted her with a broad grin. "I was hoping you'd come today - look at this mob!" She held her arms out wide to indicate the noisy throng filling the market before reaching to help Maryë clamber up onto the stool beside her. "How is your family?" she asked, passing the tiny girl a pen and her order book.

"We're well. How is yours, Mistress Almarë?"

"Speak up - no one can hear you when you mumble, Maryë," Almarë chided.

"We're well," Maryë repeated, flushing and raising her voice uncomfortably as she turned to the proper sheet of parchment. "How are you, Mistress Almarë?"

"We're wonderful! My daughter's visiting next week with her boys; I can hardly believe how big they've grown! And Veryo's poor thumb is all better---" She stopped abruptly as harried-looking woman approached her stall. "And what can I get for you today, miss?" she asked, smiling.

The next few hours were busy, with Almarë selling bread, rolls, and other baked goods, and Maryë recording sales and taking down confectionery orders in her neat, careful writing. It was past noon and Almarë and Maryë were just finishing their lunches when Elenë arrived. "It's all sold, sweet pea," she said, stroking her daughter's hair. "And we've got salt and flour and sugar. Say goodbye?"

"Goodbye," Maryë said quietly, climbing down to the stone-covered street. "I hope your visit is nice."

"I'm sure it will be." Almarë counted out a small handful of coins and gave them to Elenë before saying, "You and your family keep well until I see you next. It's your begetting day next week, isn't it?" Maryë nodded shyly and reached for her mother's hand. "I have something for you," Almarë continued, bending down to retrieve a bundle from under the booth. She straightened and held a thick book out to the tiny girl. "It's a dictionary; now you'll be able to look up words you don't know, instead of having to ask what they mean."

"Thank you, Mistress Almarë," Maryë said, taking the book with wide-eyed, slightly stunned reverence and opening it to a center page. "It even has the tengwar and the sarati!" she exclaimed happily.

"That's very kind of you," Elenë said, looking rather nonplussed. "Run and show your father, Maryë? I just want a last quick word with Almarë." Once her daughter was out of earshot she turned back to the baker, but Almarë spoke first. "Please don't protest, Elencalë - she's a very sweet child, and such a help."

"If you're sure..." Elenë said uncertainly. "But it's a bit lavish for a fourteen-year-old, isn't it?"

Almarë chuckled. "Perhaps. But I've seen the way she reads; I don't mind encouraging her."

"She is a little bookworm, whenever she can be," Elenë admitted with a laugh. "I doubt we'll get a word out of her on the way home. Thank you, Almarë."

"You're welcome, dear," Almarë said. "And take care until I see you next."

"And you. I should go make sure my little bookworm actually found Poldo." Elenë gave a small wave before threading her way back to the wagon, where Maryë was already settled on some of the empty sacks, oblivious to the world with her nose buried in the dictionary.

"It'll be a quiet trip home," Poldo said good-humoredly, reaching a hand down to help Elenë up to the bench. "Think we'll hear a peep out of her before supper?"

"I doubt it."

"Clinquant!" Maryë piped up from the wagon bed. "Glittering with gold or silver, and hence with metallic imitations of these; tinseled." She looked up at her parents with a happy grin. "I like that word! It's almost onomatopoeic. Some people in the city are so clinquant that when they move, they clink!"

"Very good, Maryë," Poldo said, grinning at Elenë as she stifled a laugh into the crook of her arm. "Or maybe," he murmured to her, "she'll make more peeps than a nest of hungry wrens."

"I heard that, Atto," Maryë said with a small huff.

"I know you did. Now let's head home so you can show your grandparents."

[tryingtimi]

Listen

Basically the continuation of this scene. It's one of those that I started a long time ago and now I just wanted it done lol. When in the actual story there will be some things in the two scenes, and after it but yk. Anyway.

Context: Syonehlia tells Cronyl she need him because of the Proposal Performance. Cronyl does not know Syonehlia doesn't want to be the Princess, and will only find out after they performed. Until then, there is a tension, since she basically rejected him earlier. However, not as openly to crush all his hope.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | ARGUMENT EXPLORATION | WC: 841

“This was not part of the deal.”

Syonehlia did not look at Cronyl, while he slammed the carefully decorated piece of paper at the table as if it was no more than garbage. She calmly busied herself with her wrist bandages, not even flinching, nor acting as if she cared about any inch of his remarks.

Cronyl gritted his teeth.

“It is now,” Syonehlia answered, voice even. “I need your help to complete the performance. Furthermore, it’s a generous offer. Your fee is doubled,” she elegantly flipped the parchment and put a delicate finger at the top. “Supplemented with the newest medications you can find on the market, besides the fruit and vegetable stocks those were fermented and sealed properly to stay esculent for a fine amount of time…”

“So you give pickled food.” Cronyl finally earned a glance from the Dione heir, even if a rather piercing one. She did pull back her pragmatic mask real quickly.

“Yes. Also, I’ve sent Delion to our tailors where they make two pile-lined linen inexpressible with matching tunics and blouses, all coated with spider silk from our farms. There will be various sizes in the package.”

“So you also give pants and shirts.” Syonehlia didn’t seem necessarily proud of herself after listing all these, but Cronyl still crossed his arms before his chest. He wasn’t trying to hide the lack of amusement on his face, in contrast to this annoyance that nested in his nerves. “Great, in that case, we can finally prepare that summer ball we’ve been delaying for weeks now. The handful of half-ruined houses the people live in will serve well as a decorative touch.”

A short silence conquered the room. Cronyl held Syonehlia’s gaze which seemed unreadable. Until one, tiny little twitch of her lips.

“Mockery is something I was not expecting from you. I offer much, Rescuer. You should consider these at least.”

He held her gaze, his tension seeping into the brightly lit office area.

“The ridiculous offer is the least surrealistic among all the things you listed here,” he said, his tone as cold as hers. He could shield the painful disappointment well enough. “How do you plan to execute your plan, tell me, heiress. The Performance is not for pairs, there is no chance you can take me in with you. And if you could somehow manage to do it, I don’t see the appeal in helping you to marry off to the Prince. I’m not out here to fulfil all your whims.”

“Does that mean my idea could work?” Syonehlia stopped adjusting her bandages, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. “The fight scene. In disguise.”

There was a moment of pause in the room. Cronyl tried his hardest to process the sheer ignorance towards his words. It wasn’t the first time she did that, he slowly realized that. There were moments they would converse, and she would do it as subtly as a serpent would sneak into your bed unnoticed. Still, he didn’t really care about it. So far, anyway.

He released a deep breath, not loosening his posture.

“Only if you would want them to kick you out of the suitors. Even if the other nobles wouldn’t notice it, there is no doubt the Prince wouldn't miss how it’s actually fighting. That would be the most inappropriate performance in the history.”

The chandelier’s light made the room bright enough for him to see the most subtle smile creep onto her lips. It felt like a knowing one.

Confusion scattered into Cronyl’s chest.

“We’ll make it work.”

The use of the plural was the last thread of his patience. He closed his eyes, and he would have loved to turn on his heels to take his leave. Anger bubbled in his chest, towards her and himself as well. Yet, he found himself stuck in that room. No matter how much she seemed to tell him the exact thing he wasn’t expecting.

Helping her to get married to the Prince? Metal-cursed woman. She was playing with him, or he was a fool from the start.

Focus.

His feelings should have played very little part in his decision-making. And with that, a realization hit him on the face that made his heart crack further. Yet, it was more important like that pathetic thing.

His people were that, way more important.

“All right, listen,” Syonehlia started. She didn’t sound tender or apologetic. Her voice was of someone’s who knew what she wanted and what she needed to do to get it. “I need you because it would only work well if there are two people. And you are close to a master in this topic. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask for this if I’d know a better option.”

Cronyl left his gaze on her, none of them looking away.

The people.

He untangled his arms, his palms showing.

“I’m listening.”

[chemicalresearchupdates]

Vegetable Parchment Paper Market Strategic Investment Plans and Business Opportunities

The vegetable parchment paper market refers to the industry involved in the production, distribution, and sale of parchment paper made specifically for culinary purposes. Vegetable parchment paper, also known as baking paper or baking parchment, is a type of paper that has been treated with a silicone coating, making it non-stick, moisture-resistant, and heat-resistant.

Here is some information about the vegetable parchment paper market:

Market Overview: The vegetable parchment paper market has experienced steady growth in recent years. This is primarily due to the increasing demand for convenient and non-stick cooking and baking solutions. Vegetable parchment paper offers numerous benefits such as easy food release, reduced need for oil or butter, and simplified cleanup.

Key Players: Several companies operate in the vegetable parchment paper market, including:

Reynolds Consumer Products: Reynolds is a leading manufacturer and distributor of various household products, including parchment paper.

If You Care: If You Care is a brand known for producing environmentally friendly and sustainable kitchen and household products, including vegetable parchment paper.

Beyond Gourmet: Beyond Gourmet offers a range of eco-friendly cooking and baking essentials, including vegetable parchment paper.

PaperChef: PaperChef specializes in producing high-quality vegetable parchment paper for both household and professional use.

Product Varieties: Vegetable parchment paper comes in various forms and sizes to cater to different cooking and baking needs. Some common product varieties include pre-cut sheets, rolls, and parchment paper rounds for lining cake pans. It is available in different thicknesses and may also be coated with silicone on both sides for enhanced non-stick properties.

Applications: Vegetable parchment paper is widely used in the food industry as well as households. Its primary applications include:

Baking: It is commonly used to line baking sheets and pans, preventing sticking and ensuring even heat distribution.

Roasting: Parchment paper can be used to wrap and cook foods like vegetables, fish, and poultry, helping to retain moisture and flavors.

Steaming: Parchment paper packets are used for steaming various ingredients, locking in flavors while preventing direct contact with water.

Food Wrapping: Parchment paper can be used for wrapping sandwiches, cheese, or other food items to keep them fresh.

Market Trends: The vegetable parchment paper market has witnessed several trends in recent years:

Eco-friendly and sustainable products: There is an increasing demand for vegetable parchment paper made from renewable resources and using environmentally friendly production processes.

Customization and convenience: Manufacturers are introducing pre-cut sheets and specialized shapes to cater to specific baking needs, enhancing convenience for consumers.

Health-conscious consumers: With a growing focus on healthier cooking methods, vegetable parchment paper offers a non-stick option without the need for excessive oil or butter.

Distribution Channels: Vegetable parchment paper is widely available through various distribution channels, including:

Supermarkets and hypermarkets

Convenience stores

Online retailers

Specialty kitchenware stores

Foodservice suppliers

Regional Market: The vegetable parchment paper market is global, with significant demand across various regions. North America and Europe are traditionally strong markets due to the popularity of baking and cooking, while Asia Pacific is also experiencing growth due to changing lifestyles and increasing urbanization.

Factors Driving Market Growth: Several factors contribute to the growth of the vegetable parchment paper market:

Increasing awareness of convenient and healthier cooking methods

Growing demand for non-stick and easy-to-clean cooking solutions

Rise in baking and cooking activities at home

Expansion of the foodservice industry

It's important to note that the information provided here is based on the knowledge available up until September 2021, and the vegetable parchment

[icrecipeblog]

Homemade Chicken Nuggets

Babygirl, Jamie Sherman has got us with this recipe! Literal lifesaver! I thought I would never get to eat nuggets again 😭

If you’re acid free, cut the black pepper and paprika out.

If you’re sugar free, you can use coconut sugar, but honestly? The recipe really doesn’t need it? (But I’ve been sugar free for awhile so my taste buds are very sensitive to sweets!)

If you’re gluten free, replace the all purpose flour and breadcrumbs with oat flour.

As usual, replace vegetable oil with olive oil if you are a sensitive little baby like me :(

When freezing the nuggets in step 2, they should be solid but peel off of the parchment paper in a satisfying matter. If they’re still goopy, freeze them longer. I place mine in the upper/middle part of the freezer.

When frying your nuggets, cook them for about 3 1/2 minutes on each side on medium heat.

[xandayer]

D&D Campaign Primer #1

The day market in the town square was bustling. Artisanal goods sat in the open beneath the vibrantly coloured tent covering; fresh fruits and vegetables, polished blades that gleamed in the sunlight, and fine furs to name a few. Abram, though, was not interested in the goods the market had to sell, at the behest of the market criers that attempted to beckon his attention.

His head was sunk into his neck as he walked, and his hands clammily grasped a tied scroll of parchments of various crème and white hues. There were gaps in the scroll’s side, where wax seals were stuck between the layers. His gait was staggered by the wait of the pack slunk over his shoulders. It was most of what he owned at this point.

As he approached the middle of the market, the gate came into view. It was this massive arch made from a glimmering black crystal. The closer he got to it, the more opulent the merchants in the rows beside him. And the loud criers that had adorned the outskirts of the market began to fade. Around the arch there was a perimeter of stone walls and almost twenty soldiers. The guards controlled the traffic from this gate to Riften. The only one on this world knows.

The soldiers looked alien, towering a head and shoulders over most anyone in the town. Their skin was a leafy green and had tusks instead of the canine teeth that stuck out of their helms. Goggles covered their eyes leaving only their noses and stubbled lower half of their faces visible. Their armour consisted of layers of plate mail of a blue hued metal that was quite matte. Some wielded polearms and others wielded these hefty firearms with bayonets of the same hue as the armour.

Abram approached the only opening in the perimeter wall where five soldiers stood checking the papers of a few travellers. As he waited for an opening, his breathing grew uneven. His grip of the scroll shook. It hadn’t dawned on him that this was it.

Only a few months earlier he had been an aspiring apprentice engineer in the largest town on the continent. But over the past few weeks, a benefactor from Sternhold Academy within the magical gates of Riften had taken an interest in a mechanism that had found its way to him through the academic channels provided to the one of, if not, the largest engineering academies. After a short correspondence, the benefactor formally invited Abram to the academy, and with it, gave him enough paperwork to kill a lay person.

One of the travellers was arguing with a soldier about the expiration of some document, and part through some insult from the traveller, the soldier shoved the man to the ground. Shaken, the man got up, patted himself off, and scurried away. Abram approached the now unoccupied soldier.

“Transit Papers.” The soldier demanded; the words hissing through his tusked mouth.

Abram pulled the outer most paper from the scroll, which by now was slightly damp from his clammy grip and presented it to him. The soldier looked down and tried to read it, before taking it from his hand. He brought the document close to his face and scanned the document, running his gloved finger along the document’s grey wax seal.

“Go.” The soldier grunted and held out the document.

Abram reached up to grab the paper from the giant and walked through where a group stood before the gate. They were of many looks, but most of them were adorned by marks of wealth, fine furs, glittering jewels, and the like. Abram himself wore comparatively meagre. He wore a white shirt beneath his grey apprentice coveralls and a lighter, brown coat on top of that.

There they all stood for some time, before the soldiers rang a bell, noting the last call where a few more stragglers clutching their newly purchased goods in their arms crossed through the gate.

For a moment, the air around them became cold enough to see ones breath. Then from the sides of the black crystal of the gate, magical energy arced and beamed between the structure. Each arc caused a teal glow to extend across the arch. When the energy finally extended from one side of the arch to the other, the teal glow disappeared, and in its place a new scene was there. Where before you could see through the arch, the gate now showed a massive hall. They were ushered by the soldiers through the gate quickly, in so, the gate was only open for a few moments.

Abram turned around for a moment before it closed and got the last glimpse of his old home that he would ever experience. He turned to face his new home, Riften, the city where worlds meet.

[coherentmarketinsights]

Harvested Brilliance: Unveiling the Vegetable Parchment Paper Market

The vegetable parchment paper market has experienced significant growth in recent years, driven by increasing awareness about sustainable packaging solutions and the growing demand for eco-friendly alternatives. Vegetable parchment paper, made from natural cellulose fibers, offers several advantages over traditional paper and plastic packaging materials, making it a popular choice among consumers and businesses alike.

One of the key drivers of growth in the vegetable parchment paper market is the rising environmental consciousness among consumers. With concerns about plastic pollution and its impact on the environment, there is a growing preference for biodegradable and compostable packaging materials. Vegetable parchment paper fits these criteria perfectly, as it is made from renewable resources and is biodegradable, making it an attractive option for eco-conscious consumers.

Another factor contributing to the growth of the market is the increasing regulations and policies promoting sustainable packaging solutions. Governments and regulatory bodies worldwide are implementing stricter guidelines regarding packaging materials to reduce waste and environmental impact. This has led to a greater adoption of vegetable parchment paper by various industries, including food and beverage, pharmaceuticals, and cosmetics.

In addition to its eco-friendly properties, vegetable parchment paper offers excellent performance characteristics that appeal to businesses. It is greaseproof, heat-resistant, and has good wet strength, making it suitable for a wide range of applications such as baking, wrapping, and packaging of oily or moist foods. This versatility has further fueled its demand across different sectors.

The market for vegetable parchment paper is also benefiting from technological advancements and innovations in production processes. Manufacturers are continuously improving the quality and performance of vegetable parchment paper, enhancing its durability, printability, and barrier properties. These innovations are opening up new opportunities and expanding the market reach of vegetable parchment paper globally.

Looking ahead, the vegetable parchment paper market is poised for continued growth as sustainability remains a top priority for consumers and businesses. With ongoing research and development efforts focused on enhancing the properties and applications of vegetable parchment paper, it is expected to play a crucial role in the shift towards more sustainable packaging solutions in the coming years.

[custompackagingboxes]

Butter Papers Endure Smooth Build-In for Usability

This adaptable and heat-resistant paper has transformed how we bake, cook, and prepare food in commercial and domestic kitchens. Butter Papers are now a must-have item in kitchens worldwide, also called parchment and baking paper. They provide the primary function of keeping food from sticking to pans and baking sheets while baking and cooking. The silicone coating on these papers is what makes them non-stick. This coating creates a smooth surface that makes it easier to remove and clean up food items like cookies, pastries, and meats from sticking to the pan. They function as a significant barrier against high temperatures in addition to their non-stick qualities. They are helpful in cooking but also good for the environment.

Maintain Ease of Usage and Ability in Butter Papers

Its inability to burn and produce toxic substances when exposed to heat ensures the safety of the food and the cooking area. It is the best option for baking, roasting, and even grilling because of its function. Butter Papers are essential in preparing delicate meals like fish and vegetables and remain used in baking. The food cooks softly and evenly by keeping its natural flavors and nutrients, thanks to their ability to trap steam. This approach is becoming increasingly popular because it is easy to use and produces tasty, healthful dishes. They remain used in the candy-making industry as well. Thanks to the non-stick surface, candy, caramels, and toffees may be quickly removed from the pan without creating a sticky mess.

Butter Papers Help Save Time to Maintain Thickness

The sheets make the candy-making procedure more accessible and pleasurable. They offer a clean surface for spreading and molding the hot candy. The rolling out of dough is another significant use for them. By preventing sticking, these papers make rolling cookies, pie crusts, and pastry dough easier. Butter Papers help produce consistent thickness and save time, resulting in baked foods that are evenly baked. Some contemporary parchment papers remain unbleached and composed of sustainable materials, unlike traditional ones, which are sometimes covered in silicone. People concerned about their impact on the environment and want more sustainable options in their daily lives may find this Eco-friendly option appealing.

Earn Spotless Customization by Utilizing Butter Papers

Food is sealed and baked in this French cooking method using a folded paper pouch. Butter Papers are disposable; cleaning up after cooking is made more accessible. Users can save time and work by throwing away the paper rather than cleaning trays and pans. They are a well-liked option for both professional kitchens and hectic households because of their convenience. With many advantages that make baking and cooking more accessible and more enjoyable, they have emerged as a vital instrument in the culinary industry. These papers have earned a spot in the toolkits of both amateur cooks and professional chefs due to their excellent temperature resistance and non-stick qualities. They are indispensable in the domains of production, retail, and logistics.

Wholesale Boxes Increase Operational Effectiveness for Usage

These humble receptacles are the backbone of numerous sectors, offering a dependable and effective way to store, transport, and wrap items. Wholesale Boxes are available in a wide range of sizes, forms, and materials to meet the varying needs of enterprises worldwide, from little trinkets to massive appliances. Their cost-effectiveness is one of their main features. Manufacturers, retailers, and distributors can lower their overall cost per unit by taking advantage of economies of scale when they purchase large quantities. This cost-effectiveness is significant for companies that handle large product volumes. The money saved on these purchases can be put into marketing, innovation, and increasing overall operational effectiveness, among other company areas.

Add Separators and Inserts within Wholesale Boxes

It is impossible to exaggerate their adaptability. There are many different types of boxes. Their unique requirements and their intended purpose determine the material selection. For example, cardboard boxes widely remain used because they are affordable, lightweight, and recyclable. Wholesale Boxes are stronger and more durable than other cardboard boxes. These boxes frequently remain chosen when shipping bulky and delicate goods. Options for customization include changing the size, adding handles, separators, and compartments, printing logos and branding information, and combining other unique elements. This degree of adaptability guarantees that companies can discover the ideal packaging option for their goods, boosting their appearance and usefulness.

Wholesale Boxes Support Initiatives to Employ Trust

In the retail industry, boxes are essential for marketing and branding. Since packaging frequently serves as an initial point of contact with a product. Providing an excellent first impression is essential. Wholesale Boxes remain created to embody their identity by combining images, colors, and text that appeal to the intended market. Customers unintentionally become brand ambassadors when they bring the packed goods home. They extend the reach of this branding beyond the point of sale. Therefore, they can remain altered to satisfy the particular needs of every product. They support their overall sustainability initiatives in addition to being aesthetically pleasing. They come from recyclable materials, which satisfies consumer demand for greener practices.