"You'd be surprised what they'll buy from me down there. Let me think..."
Sasha stroked his chin thoughtfully.
The markets in Connlaoth would take all sorts of things, even the useless little trinkets that people only ever carved to pass time in the winter darkness. Bone, soapstone - they had a bit of a thing about the pale, icy shade of blue that soapstone turned when it was polished - skins from the animals. Amber beads, or jet from the volcanic fields. The little twinkling sparkles of gold that were sometimes found in streams, no bigger than a speck of dust. Preserved fish. Honey. Alcohol, definitely. Felted harness for horses, cloth. Anything like that.
If it was exotic, if they couldn't find anything like it elsewhere, some rich old bastard in Connlaoth would want it.
"With such a family, you have to have at least one carver. Whatever nonsense he made last winter, they'd love that. Same goes for any cloth you have spare, any skins...even seashells if you have any. As far as I can tell, most of them have never seen the ocean. If you tell them about a whale, they can hardly believe it - a beast as big as a house!?"
Food would work too of course, but he wouldn't suggest food. They had so many to feed as it was, it would have to be a struggle even with nearly thirty adults to share the load.
"Believe me, love. It's worth almost nothing to us, it's just how things are, but it's fascinating for them. Those strange foreigners from up north and their heathen ways..."