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Don’t Forget Me - Fabron’s Smithery
Soot smothers my hand as I push open the blacksmith's door. "Fabron?" I call out into the empty workshop, my footsteps echoing as I walk further in. The furnace crackles into the silent room, coals glowing like amber under a desert sun; as it radiates fluttering embers into the air. I saunter towards the counter. Swords, knives and axes hang along the wall behind the battered oak, each glistening in the light from the window adjacent.
"You're back sooner than I thought" Fabron calls back brightly, emerging from a door behind the furnace in the back of the room. He strides towards me with a cheerful smile and lands a heavy pat on my shoulder, ash puffing into the air from the impact. I return his infectious smile, running my hand through my hair and following him to the counter.
"Ah! Yeah, deadline is shorter than I thought" I grimace back at him with a solemn smile. Fabron laughs wearily at my reply, a sympathetic smile sweeping to replace the once cheerful grin.
"Well then..." Fabron claps his hands together. "That'll be why ya look glum and... sweaty," he says pausing to emphasise his teasing comments to my dishevelled face. Fabron reaches under the counter and throws a tattered rag at me. Catching it I laugh, blotting the sweat from my brow.
"No, I'm sweaty cause of your fucking furnace. You really need more windows in here, Fab." I retort back, the corners of my mouth itching to a smile. Fabron raises his brow and reaches below the counter once more, instead of a tattered rag he unveils a small bottle of dark liquor. The bottle appearing smaller than its actual size in Fabron's burly hand. He places the liquor onto the counter with a thud and slides it towards me.
"Not up for the usual humour, ay?" Fabron muses with a hearty laugh. I take the bottle and relish in the warmth of the liquor as it comforts my chest. With a small grunt of appreciation, I place the bottle back to the counter. My eyes meet Fabron's and I lean onto the counter, pressing my elbows onto the uneven surface.
"What do ya need? Ya look thoughtful and stoic, like those fuckin' stuck up scholars!" Fabron laughs and pushes my shoulder, forcing me to stand straight. 'He's got a point, I need to stop wallowing' I remind myself and chuckle back to his remark.
"Yeah, eh. Sorry! I need a new blade" I say sheepishly, dropping my blunt knife onto the wooden block. The knife clatters between us as we stare at the edge of the blade. Dull and blunt, the metal refusing to shine in the light of the window like it once did. No matter how much I would love to keep the knife, the blade wouldn't survive another bout of sharpening. I frown as I study the cracks speckled along the edge of my trusty weapon.
Fabron pouts disapprovingly, his brow knotting into heavy creases at the top of the bridge of his nose. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head Fabron turns his attention to the array of weaponry behind him, his eyes darting over a suitable replacement. "Hmm, yeah this one's damned. By the Gods Sil! What do you do to them?" He tuts and picks out a new dagger, placing it beside my well used one. I look between the two blades, amused by the contrast as the sharpened edge of the proposed knife glints in the soft light, before returning my gaze to Fabron.
"Ropes" I reply with a...
"You're back sooner than I thought" Fabron calls back brightly, emerging from a door behind the furnace in the back of the room. He strides towards me with a cheerful smile and lands a heavy pat on my shoulder, ash puffing into the air from the impact. I return his infectious smile, running my hand through my hair and following him to the counter.
"Ah! Yeah, deadline is shorter than I thought" I grimace back at him with a solemn smile. Fabron laughs wearily at my reply, a sympathetic smile sweeping to replace the once cheerful grin.
"Well then..." Fabron claps his hands together. "That'll be why ya look glum and... sweaty," he says pausing to emphasise his teasing comments to my dishevelled face. Fabron reaches under the counter and throws a tattered rag at me. Catching it I laugh, blotting the sweat from my brow.
"No, I'm sweaty cause of your fucking furnace. You really need more windows in here, Fab." I retort back, the corners of my mouth itching to a smile. Fabron raises his brow and reaches below the counter once more, instead of a tattered rag he unveils a small bottle of dark liquor. The bottle appearing smaller than its actual size in Fabron's burly hand. He places the liquor onto the counter with a thud and slides it towards me.
"Not up for the usual humour, ay?" Fabron muses with a hearty laugh. I take the bottle and relish in the warmth of the liquor as it comforts my chest. With a small grunt of appreciation, I place the bottle back to the counter. My eyes meet Fabron's and I lean onto the counter, pressing my elbows onto the uneven surface.
"What do ya need? Ya look thoughtful and stoic, like those fuckin' stuck up scholars!" Fabron laughs and pushes my shoulder, forcing me to stand straight. 'He's got a point, I need to stop wallowing' I remind myself and chuckle back to his remark.
"Yeah, eh. Sorry! I need a new blade" I say sheepishly, dropping my blunt knife onto the wooden block. The knife clatters between us as we stare at the edge of the blade. Dull and blunt, the metal refusing to shine in the light of the window like it once did. No matter how much I would love to keep the knife, the blade wouldn't survive another bout of sharpening. I frown as I study the cracks speckled along the edge of my trusty weapon.
Fabron pouts disapprovingly, his brow knotting into heavy creases at the top of the bridge of his nose. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head Fabron turns his attention to the array of weaponry behind him, his eyes darting over a suitable replacement. "Hmm, yeah this one's damned. By the Gods Sil! What do you do to them?" He tuts and picks out a new dagger, placing it beside my well used one. I look between the two blades, amused by the contrast as the sharpened edge of the proposed knife glints in the soft light, before returning my gaze to Fabron.
"Ropes" I reply with a...
