Stolen Silver Spoons
Mood: Marching through the village with a look of displeasure on her face, the rustle of her floral skirt is not enough to muffle the faint sound of silverware clanging together between folds of fabric.
Smells Like: Metallic silverware folded into skirt pockets and a squeeze of fresh citrus wrapped in soft vanilla.
In the heart of the shire, long sunny days are filled with folk working in their quaint gardens, sharing sweet cakes over afternoon tea and party celebrations running deep into the night. The soft blossoms falling from cherry trees and the gentle hum of honey bees is interrupted only by nosy neighbors peering out from round doors and the intrusion of unexpected guests.
Although the village where the little folk dwell is a peaceful and amicable place where friends share many a tale and song over locally brewed ale, not everyone can be so charming.
Entitled relatives sniff around with disgruntled expressions, casting disapproving looks at their extended family who have had the audacity to live so long and keep a hold of their valuable possessions.