Kevan Smith - Loaf

Heat and flames burning bushy eyebrows, aromatic smoke wafting, Nandolnd, the crumpled gnome, moves the long-handled broadtruele inside his 400-year-old cob oven to allow his loaves equal touching of the muffled flames. 

“Glonadir, my son, it’s our family honour to create the hleifr for our village.”

He slides the pole in practiced thrusts, a blade of grace, to keep the bread moving inside the hearth.  With gnarled knuckles glistening, the best loaf flings from the oven mouth onto the flour bench, spinning then halting at his apprentice’s hands.

“Break that boy, smell our sweet labour, bless Andhrimnir for this gift.”