Morning dawns on the dwarven city of Dimbuldor, the air laced with scents of the mountain and the sea, that dazzled the nose. The sounds of the mail ships at the harbour, and the clanging of the copper mines can be heard over the sound of a waking city. Each morning, the dwarves of Dimbuldor would awake to the same scents, sounds and sights. However, this particular day, a new scent would be introduced, one that would be there for decades to come.
"Come come! We need four and twenty more loaves in as many minutes! Move!" These were the words heard every morning by those passing by Whulbur Buldor's bakery every morning. The view of plump dwarves scurrying left and right, gathering up the day's crop., Fimbur observed. The old dwarf took a long inhale of the city that had become his home. He observed that everything was the same as yesterday, as it was the day before that, and the day before, for as long as he could remember. However, today was special. Today, was a day for feasting! For today, was a day dedicated to celebrating the anniversary of the city. Dwarves scurried left and right, putting up decorations and preparing for the festival. He even spotted a few entrepreneurial you dwarves, already setting up ale casks. He took a seat on a nearby bench, and observed the preparations, chuckling a little to himself. As the day went on, and the smells of bread and the sounds of the mines faded, he became aware of an amazingly joyous feeling in the air, almost jubilant! A few dwarves struck out playing a fast folk tune, and the festivities began. About halfway through however, he noticed an extremely large line developing in the centre of the festivities, dwarves young and old, all standing in a line together. "Whatever for!" He thought, before taking yet another inhale of the mountain air, but this time, he detected a whiff of something sweeter. He followed the line to the front, while also following his nose, and came upon a confectioner's stand of impressive magnitude. With, -could it be?- his grandson at the head. There was cakes and cookies, biscuits and tarts, doughnuts and eclairs and even a few pies, spinning out. Each leaving their own scent that was amazing in it's own way. He made his way to the stand, smiling a the way, before embracing his grandson. "I'm proud of ye!" He said, tears dripping from his eyes.
That anniversary of Dimbuldor was said to be remembered in the hearts of all dwarves from such a city, and told to their children. As a night of magical tastes, sounds and smells. And if they should ever doubt the story, they should look to the profession of many Of the Dwarves of Dimbuldor, making world-famous confections, even now.
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