The Hamlet of Frîmark

There had always been a couple smithies in Frimark. They made solid practical work. And with how there had been more skirmishes along the border of Swavia, there had been a greater call for armor and weapons. So work had been good and plentiful. But there was one smithy, which had always gotten less business, Dalca's Smithy.

James Dalca was known for being a drunkard, and while he turned out decent work, it was always late, and hammered out without any real sense of mastery.
But there had been some buzz in town about Dalca's work lately. Things had been getting done on time. The local farmers, were impressed by repairs to their plows. And some of the soliders which have passed through have started to claim that the swords were some of the best they had come across in a long while, expertly balanced.

Peeking into the shop, one would the forge in the back, with all the tools hung about, the coals still glowing next to the bellows. In the main part of the shop, they would see shelves and pegs full of horseshoes, wagon parts, weapons, and even some basic armor. For those who had been to the shop before, they would notice that the worked metal looked different. There was a bit of style to how it was shaped. Extra care and attention had been given to each piece.

The other new addition, besides the newly forged items, was a woman who was angrily scrubbing the filthy floors of the place. Splashing everytime she put her brush into her bucket as she put it in too hard. She wore simple clothing and had her long dark hair tied in a braid to keep it out of her way.
Dalca was half drunk, sitting on a stool outside the shop, dozing off a bit. Until one of his friend stopped by.

"James! I hear you're making well for yourself." he looks into the shop and gives a knowing chuckle. "I see you got yourself a girl to keep that mess of a shop in order."

"Yeah, she's not good at much, but she can keep the store going alright."

A loud splash was heard behind them.

"Let me see these new blades you've been making. I could use some new knives."

Dalca let the man into the store and pulled out a new set of knives from a shelf. "Try these."

The man held them and tested the blade with a finger. "Sharp, nice heft." he looked down the blade.

"It was just some cheap knives I made out of scrap. Nothing special. I'll sell all three blades for a gold piece."

The woman scrubbing the floor froze watching them.

The man smiled, he was getting a bargan. "Sure." and gave the gold.
"Master Dalca, those knives are surely worth..." and then she got a kick to her ribs. "I don't pay you to think, get back to work!" and then the man left.

Lilla stood up, throwing her scrub brush into the bucket hard, splashing water everywhere.

"You bastard! I worked damn hard on those knives! They are worth 3 times the price he paid for them! I don't care that I have to clean your shop in order to work that forge. Or that you call me a dullard! But I won't have you talking down my work and treating it like cheap trash! you know what it's worth!" she growled.

James grabbed her arm and twisted it hard, making her wince. "You're lucky I took pity on you and let you sleep near the forge, let alone use it! It's my shop and I charge what I want you stupid harpy! Without me you wouldn't have access to a smithy, let alone have anyone sell what you make. Most would think you have stolen this work! So shut your mouth like a good woman and I will honor our deal. Otherwise you might as well leave now!" He threatened.

Slowly Lilla sank to the floor and started to scrub again, trying so hard to keep biting her tongue.

The glares between the woman and the smithy lasted for a long scalding moment as the new patron entered the shop. As the man asked if there was an issue, the tension broke as the smithy waddled to the front of the shop. The scent of booze greeted the Captain before the smithy had a chance to.

"Naw. No problem. Just issues with the help. You know how it is. She's new and doesn't know her role and duties well yet." he said quickly. The woman just fumed and resumed her scrubbing, threatening to take a few layers off the stone floor.

"Now what can I help you with? Lookin' for something for the farm? We have a deal on horseshoes, buy 3 get the fourth one free, no charge for shoein' your horse."

The dark haired woman was glancing up to eye the man who had entered the shop, her eyes lingering over his build and shoulders, falling down to remain on the sword and dagger eyeing over details of the blades, her mind elsewhere for a moment.

A cough was heard from behind them. Lilla could be caught rolling her eyes. "Or being a soldier, he might want to look over the blades..." She quickly turned away from them so she couldn't see the angry face of the blacksmith.

Dalca cleared his throat to regain attention back on himself as he went over to some pegs holding different types of swords. There was a marked difference in the style of workmanship on the swords. The majority of them, were kind of rough and clunky looking, unremarkable. They looked nice and sharp, but looked like someone had just cranked out a bunch of them, just to have them available for purchase. But the other style... there was only a handful of them. But someone had spent a lot of time on them, almost tender care of working the metal. They had some decorative touches on the hilt at well. And that was the curious thing, they all had a little loop at the base of handle, a little flourish with a tapering end. Actually there were a series of items which had this little 'signature' to the style.

James grabbed one of the rougher style blades. "For example look at this! Nice sturdy craftsmanship." he commented as he handed the blade to the soldier. Proud of the sword he had made. Grabbing Erhard's arm to steady himself as the room seemed to lurch a bit.

The expression of the soldier obviously not believing the Blacksmith and how he just stared at them so quietly, spoke more than what the maiden wanted to hear. The blacksmith glossing right over it, obviously missing a lot of what was going on in his current state. More eager to make a sale than anything else. Until that damned woman interrupted him again, making him realize the customer was looking at the blades already. The maid still scrubbing and no looking up, to deliberately not catch the angry expression of her employer, but also missing the fact that Erhard's eyes were lingering over her. Under a layer of dirt and soot her skin was fair. A pert nose over full expressionable lips, even when drawn together in frustration. Her dark braided hair curling along to frame her cheek. She had a slender build, but her simple brown dress did little to hide that she had a good amount of strength for a woman. She obviously must do more than just scrubbing floors. Her hands were calloused, worn, and tough much like Dalca's.

Dalca offered what he considered a proper blade to the man, but it was promptly brushed off, making Dalca frown grouchily. His steadying hand also brushed away, making him stumble back a bit, the frown growing. And then Erhard offered a trade. A trade! A trade for a blade that his hands hadn't made! and then the soldiers sword was laid down for him to inspect. The maid peered up, her eyes wide at the gesture, gazing at the offered blade. A small smile passing her lips for the first time since the man had entered the shop. Dalca snorted as he sized up the sword. Wrestling with himself for a moment. Glancing at the woman scrubbing his floor. Who quickly turned so he couldn't see her smile. "Yer sword's seen better days, but I think the people in town would like having a real soldier's blade. It's a deal with three gold."

Dalca grabbed the blade which was pointed at and lay it down beside Erhard's blade. "You didn't even try it. I should give it to you, to teach you a lesson about picking just any ol' sword, but I'm an honest guy." the maid coughed at that, getting a quick glare. "You should try it, before you spend your money." he pushed the sword forward, offering it.

At the soldier's comment, both the blacksmith and the maid froze in shock. Dalca's red face darkened with anger as it was clear that Erhard was talking about more than just the blades. But as those battle hardened eyes stared him down, he found himself taking a step backwards, giving a hard swallow. "You're... you're getting yourself a bargain... but alright, it's a deal." He took the battle worn blade and the offered money giving the soldier his new blade. When held Erhard would feel how keenly balanced the blade was and that it was lighter than his old blade, but still seemed quite strong.

The maid who had been watching all this quickly stood up with her bucket, looking angry and awkward, dashing out to the street to dump her filthy bucket water.

A splashing sound was heard as the maid threw it's contents into the street. She had made Dalca mad several times today. Nothing unusual with the surly drunk. But then that damned soldier had to point out what was genuine about that blade he purchased... he was going to cost her, her job! She spun around, ready to storm back into the smithy when she nearly bumped into Erhard who had apparently followed her. "Almost two months." she replied sulkily. "I need to go in and get yelled at some more... maybe that will calm down Dalca enough he will let me stay." She then added softly. "Not many smithies allow women to work in them."

She started to pass the soldier. "You should have someone angle your blade a little, it'll make it easier on your wrist."

She frowned as the large man blocked her exit into the shop. She sighed softly as if to say 'please, just let me through already'. and then she heard his question and froze.

He knew she made the blade he had bought... he basically came right out and told her, instead of hinting at it like he had earlier. She lifted her chin, the praise of her skill, bolstering a bit. She never talked down her work, even when it was being passed as someone else's. "I have been practicing for three years. I learned from my husband, taking up his work when he broke his arm... When he passed, I lost the smithy and no one would buy my work. Dalca is a tyr... difficult." she quickly corrected herself, tryiing to see if Dalca was behind the soldier's frame. "But at least I can use his shop. I really should get back in... he's probably livid."

After telling her tale, she looked up into Erhard's face as he watched her silently, no reaction to it. She knew she wasn't the only woman who had trouble pursuing a trade or struggled with losing what she had. But she wasn't looking for pity or sympathy. What happened had happened. And she still had work to do.

But the way this soldier looked at her... it was as if his gaze looked through her. It made her feel like she was standing before him nude! She felt a nearly forgotten sensation, of warmth on her cheeks as she moved past him.

Once Erhard was gone she had gotten an earful from Dalca who was unhappy that he was treated like that by the shrewd knight. But a few hours and a bottle of wine later he had forgotten most of what had happened and was half dozing on a stool. Which made her finishing her long list of chores a lot easier.

As dusk was approaching Dalca finally left to go to a local pub where he would likely drink more than he actually ate. Instead of the forge's fire cooling, Lilla stoked up the flames again, getting the bellows going. Once free of the owner's eye, she got to what she considered her 'real work'. The sound of the hammer could be heard ringing as she worked with the anvil. It felt good to work and even better to get out her day's frustrations out on the cherry red metal. It wasn't until then that she caught a glimpse of a man's silhouette loitering about the outside of the Smithy. "We're closed for the day." she shouted towards him.

It was the soldier from before. He knew who she was and what she does. He had obviously been waiting to watch her work, as if to prove himself right. Or to see if she really did have the skills she had eluded to earlier. He wanted watch? She watched him take a stool near a bench. "Alright." she knew he didn't say much, but when he did, it was clear he meant it.

The lady blacksmith pulled the hot metal out of the forge again and started to pound it, shape it. Hefting it to test it's weight and balance. Looking down the length of hot metal as she scrutinized it. The metal was clearly becoming one of the well tuned blades Dalca was getting known for. After an hour the blade was nearly done. Lilla was smudged with soot, sweat dappling her skin from the heat and effort, wisps of her dark hair clinging to her cheek and neck.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she looked at the blade for a moment as it glowed in the forge. She grabbed a tin on a bench and pulled out a piece of clay from it, she rolled it between her hands into a thick log before tossing it to Erhard. "Grip this for a long moment and set it on your bench." Then she got back to her task at hand.

Wearing her thick leather glove she took the blade and put it in a large vise, clamping it down before grabbing the length of metal with her tongs, bending the blade a little. Once satisfied with the bend, she checked the heft in her glove, moving the hot blade through the air a little, before plunging it into a waiting tub of water, making it hiss and steam.

The blacksmith pulled out some hilts she had made earlier and placed them in the forge to heat up. Taking the clay from the soldier she looked at it and set it on a nearby bench. She pulled out the halves of the hilt and started to reshape the pummel, shaping it to fit Erhard's hand, matching the clay example before her. she then lined up the pummel using some holes she hade made in base of the blade, heated it up and melted a rod of metal into the gaps, shaping and making the blade solid, before cooling it off again.

She then went over to the whetstone, getting it wet as she started to run the pedal, sharpening the blade, honing it's tapered edges to a fine sharpness. Stopping to check it several times.

Lilla approached the soldier. "Please, take this blade instead of the one you purchased today." she said softly, offering the custom blade on the bench before Erhard. The blade was complete after hours of work, complete with the blacksmith's little touches.

When Lilla worked in the forge, that's all there was. Dealing with Dalca, proving her worth, the losses she had in the past... they were gone. No worries, no frustrations. It was her and the metal. Working what was in her head into something real. Creation. A feeling of almost motherly pride as she presented a well crafted blade made to be a match for another.

She held her breath a little as she watched Erhard pick up the blade and execute a few swift maneuvers in the empty shop. The blade almost sang as it sliced the air. He could feel the balance, how the hilt almost hugged his hand. The slight angle of the blade seemed to gleam in the light of the forge, it seemed to keep the blade at the advantage along with his movements.

Lilla smiled, the first time the soldier had seen her do so all day, as she watched him with the blade. And then he stepped forward and put 3 gold into her hands, her eyes widening in surprise. "You don't have to keep both blades..." she said almost embarrassed. "I just wanted to give you a blade more worthy of your skill." she would never admit that she was also showing off a bit, since he was keen to see her work. She wanted to show just how well she was versed in her trade. And he had been true to his word as well.

And then he asked her his question... and it hung in the quiet dim smithy. She became aware of how hot it had gotten in there as she noted the slight shine of sweat on his skin. The damp spots on his shirt. And how her sweat drenched blouse clung to her body. The smithy seemed so small in that moment...

"Lilla Fabre." she said lifting her chin a bit proudly, giving the soldier another smile. "And your name sir?"