In a hole in the side of a hill there lived a Halfling. Not a nasty, dirty hole filled with worms, nor a dry, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or eat. This was the home and shopfront of Tathfheithleann of Summervale, and that meant comfort.
The combination of her home-and-shopfront was of a rustic sort: A picket-gated yard with a cobblestone path leading to a perfectly round door nestled neatly into the side of a small, grassy hill. Out front was a simple sign reading "OPEN" in the local language. Just through the door was a cozy and meticulously organized shop: Shelves lined the walls, adorned with glass cases and vial racks, some empty, others containing all manner of objects both magical and mundane. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla gently caressed the senses as one navigated through the roomy- albeit small- store; and at a desk far too tall for any reasonable Halfling, sitting on a tall stool, legs childishly swinging back and forth, was the woman herself, Tathfheithleann of Summervale.
"But how does one do business in such a small, quaint little village?" you might be wondering. Those who need Tathfheithleann's services or creations, be that a poultice or salve to ward off fever, or a wand for a newly-apprenticed novice Mage, knew how to reach her. The little Halfling was a well-connected woman indeed.