In the closest town to the war being waged, lies a rare breed, a female blacksmith. She’s good at her work; those who knew, who cared not for her being a woman, or those desperate enough, were aware of how proficient a craftsman she was.

“Bless this township for having a blacksmith,” a knight exclaimed when he walked up.

It was a small cottage towards the middle, surrounded by a stone and wrought iron fence

 He walked up to the extension of the home where she worked, waist high stone, wrought iron bars served as secure windows and ventilation around all three sides, supported by a heavy iron wood structure that supported a wood shingled roof. He looked in awe. The woman sat in a chair next to the iron barred door that seemed more secure than the castles jail doors. He felt the r from the forge.

“I need the service of your blacksmith, ma’am. I need to get back to battle; it took a third day to walk here.”

She looked at him and held out her hand for the sword.

“How long will it take?” he asked as he handed it over.

She pulled out half from the sheath, the blade was chipped and gouged, and she shook the other end until it fell to the ground.

‘It’ll take a day. I’m busy, and that’s as fast as it can get done.”

He looked dumbfounded. “Really? Even with all the other work? I might be moving up in rank; that sword has been good to me, I need it. Tell him he has my thanks.”

She sighed, picked up the other end, and walked inside her workshop without another word. As he left, she went to work, then she heard a voice.

“Oi, how much will it cost?”

“We’ll discuss it when it’s done.”

She removed the pommel, grip, and cross guard and placed both pieces in the forge until it was hot enough to work. With an oricalcum chisel, she hammered and cut out the fuller, before the pieces cooled. Sweat poured and sizzled on the blade. Once that was finished, she let it cool some for strength, then took a thick length of steel she cut to fit in the slots to hold the blade together. Back in the forge, she lit her pipe on a piece, took a few puffs as she pulled it out and forged-welded the steel strap, hammered it flat against the blade with a toothed hammer to better set in the blade. Back in the forge. She puffed her pipe. Back out, she used a regular hammer to further merge the metals and smooth them out, knock out the edge damage.

The knight returned the next day, around the same time and found her sharpening it.

“It looks beautiful!”

She just glanced up at him and did a test cut on a piece of wood wrapped in leather.

“Looks good, and that’s a good cutting form.”

The sword shone in the light of the forge.

“One would think you were a skilled swordswoman the way you move. Where is the blacksmith? I’d like to thank him for his quick work and pay.”

She looked at him unamused as she held his sword. Tense worked muscles didn’t hide themselves. She walked closer, pointed to the door of the house, and walked inside. He walked into a large counter, various weapons and implements on display. It looked as if work was paramount. She walked in, and he got a closer look at her. The cotton shirt was plastered to her skin once she took off the heavy duty apron and revealed her figure.

“I suppose you’re the protégé?”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“You seem to be well built, not as petite as other women, you seem fairly sturdy, so I thought… so you’re his wife?”

She sheathed the sword, set it firmly on the counter, and crossed her arms, brandishing her thick biceps; her heavy breasts seemed to rest on her toned forearms.

“I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just curious.”

“It’s ten silver,” she said and grabbed a bottle of mead to drink from.

He dug for the money. “I’d still like to meet him, if he isn’t busy.”

“You’re talking to him. What a scholar you are.”

He looked surprised.

“My apologies! I’ve never met a female blacksmith before.” He chuckled. “Well, your work is impressive. By your appearance, I have no doubt you do quality work. Don’t see too many women in the trade… I’ve heard of one once, but she’s a dwarf… allegedly.”

She took the money and handed him the sword. He pulled it out for a better look.

“Looks good as new. Man or woman, as long as the work's done right, it matters not.”

She just looked annoyed and wanted him to leave, but he kept talking. She took the money and walked away.

——

A few days later, she went to the pub and wondered why everybody was so cheerful, more than usual. But there were new faces, knights from the war. She went to the bar and ordered a drink and a few pieces of Razorboar meat. She had been tasked with making new swords and armor pieces by the king, and was tired. There was a ruckus of laughter, and an arm around her shoulders. Momentarily surprised, then angry.

“It was all thanks to this lady here that I was able to take down one of the generals! Whatever she’s having, it’s on me! Sit, sit!”

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, annoyed.

“We came here to celebrate. That sword repair turned the tide.”

The barkeep handed her a drink, he went to grab his, and spun her around on the stool.

“To the blacksmith!” He held up his tankard.

Everybody held theirs up he looked at her, and she sighed and held hers up. He tapped hers and took a drink. She sighed as everybody cheered, and drank hers.

He was so boisterous, all she wanted to do was drink and eat in peace, but he had the place all riled up.

He gave her a once-over. “You clean up well.”

“Thanks.”

She wore a blouse, a leather corset that popped her breast up, pants, and boots.

“Seriously! No blacksmith I know seems to have any nice clothes. Is that silk?”

She wanted to ignore him, but he kept talking.

“So the baby grandhorn hit him square in the ass! He was lucky he had armor on!” He laughed loudly. “Anyway… why we’re here; three of us took on the general, the other two got hurt bad, one even got his sword cleaved in two. It was just me. I was able to use my sword art and do the same to him, then pierce him right in the heart.”

Curiosity got the better of her. “Did it survive the battle—the sword?”

He laughed. “No, it broke. But it got the job done. I was going to bring it in the morning.”

“You’re out of luck… I’m closed tomorrow, I need a much needed break.”

——

That afternoon, she started to walk out of her house to run errands, just to see him ready to knock on the door, much to her chagrin and annoyance.

“Wonderful day, huh?”

“It was.”

“I know you said you were closed today, but I figured I would just drop it off.”

She snatched the sword and tossed it inside.

“It’s rather fascinating to see a woman work as a blacksmith,” he said, unfazed by her actions.

“It’s just blacksmithing.”

“I’m just curious… how did you get into it? You don’t seem to be the conversing type, so I asked around.”

“You what?”

“I asked around. We’re going to be here a while, until either the battle moves or we win, so your services are much appreciated. A few other men have gotten swords from you, and you've barely talked to them.”

"Even if I wanted to talk, you never stop,” she thought.

“The townspeople said you’re a loner for the most part, and whatever interest I have is a waste, because you don’t care for men.”

“You should listen to them.” She walked away.

“They do seem like nice people, worry about you. I think you’re lonely… bored.” He followed.

She growled under her breath.

“It’s a nice place, but it’s far from most places, and small. You’re probably stagnant. I’ll be your change of pace… your friend. You seem interesting enough,” he said as he followed.

She grabbed her small cart and gave him a look. “I have your sword, now go wander off.”

“A guide would be nice, I haven’t had time to actually explore.”

“You’ll probably figure it out.”

“You know your way around. Show me the place. It’s not big, but I could probably get lost.”

“I wager you could.” She sighed. “Then you can pull the cart.”

“Sure!” He laughed. “I’ll be your pack mule.”

She did her best to ignore him while he prattled on about the sights.

“This place is quite interesting… quaint. I heard Primrose has a mine. And decent food at… over there.” On and on. She wanted to hurt him.

They stopped at the Brewster.

“My usual cases of mead and spiced rum,” She said.

“Your town has a Brewster? Incredible!”

“Aye! I’m one of the best around these parts. I’m why we’re known for the town's namesake, Sweet Primrose wine. The plant grows all around here. It’s a family secret.”

“I’ve got to try a bottle of that.”

“I can sell ya a bottle, but it’ll cost ya. See… to help some places around here, we have an arrangement that certain spirits are to be exclusively sold through the proprietor who wants to sell it. There’s a fancy restaurant that orders it, around here, so to make sure they don’t lose money, I only distribute it to them, not sell it myself. Since you’re Dawn's friend, I’ll make an exception this time,” the man said.

“Great! I’ll savor it.”

“Say, Dawn, who is your new friend?”

“He’s no—”

“Lazarus! I’m a knight in the war. Nice to meet you.”

"Name's Lynn.”

Dawn rolled her eyes.

“Okay… case of blood honey mead, and spiced rum, coming up.” Lynn went to fetch the cases.

“Dawn, huh? Pretty name.”

She scoffed.

“Funny how we never introduced ourselves.”

“If you say so. You seem to be amused by odd things.”

“That’s why you amuse me, as well,” he retorted and looked away.

She looked up and scowled. Lynn came back with two men, each with a crate, who took them to her cart. She paid him.

“Those crates look odd,” Lazarus stated, noticing the steam emitted from them.

“Ice enchantment. And we have brought you the wine. That’ll be two gold.”

“Two gold it is.”

“I heard we’ve been winning the war.”

“We are, and I intend to keep it that way, with help of the lovely Dawn.”

“One of my men was sent to bring you some mead for your win.”

“It’s not a win yet; they retreated for now without their generals.” His voice grew cold. “They’ll be back, we’ll be waiting to wipe them all out. All they do is make me stronger.”

Dawn looked at him, surprised by his change in demeanor.

“What doesn’t kill you,” Lynn said.

Lazarus laughed. “That’s right!” I like it here.”

He flirted with a few women as he pulled the cart; some giggled at him, and he talked to a few guards. She was just happy he wasn’t talking to her.

“What’s this?” the furrier asked.

“It’s nothing, believe me,” Dawn stated.

“I’m just helping out a friend.”

“You have your eye on Dawn?” The man laughed. “Good luck.”

“He’s not so lucky. I’m running low on tanned leather.”

“I bet you’re happy for more work,” he said.

“Oh… I am. It’s good money, too. A contract with the king. I’m not making anything special, but it’s work. That and this one with his breaking of swords, I might be able to retire.”

The man laughed.

“Should you even speak so brashly about the money you’re making?” Lazarus asked.

“The girl's built like a stone wall. You should’ve seen what she did to one of the guards who got drunk at one of the pubs, who propositioned to lay with her. When he and two others pulled their swords, she fought them off with a broom.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.”

“It was! She wielded that broom like a long sword. The captain wanted to recruit her!”

“So you’re good with a sword, too?”

“I guess.”

“You just get more and more interesting.”

“Still don’t know how they couldn’t cut through that broom.”

“Reinforcement magic. Nothing special.”

Once all her errands were done, and she was embarrassed by most of the town, they headed back to her home.

“You’re not that bad.” He helped her unload.

“Excuse me?”

“You can be nice.”

“To those who deserve it. So you know the place… think you can fend for yourself, here on out?”

He chuckled. “Thanks to you.”

“Don’t thank me… seriously, don’t.”

“There’s one more thing.”

She growled. “What‽”

“Would you like to join me for dinner later? There’s supposed to be a bard tonight, and perhaps we could have a dance?”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, then grabbed a sword. “You can borrow this until I fix yours.” And shoved him out the door.

——

Lazarus showed up the next day, she looked up, annoyed when he greeted her, then she was surprised.

‘Don’t tell me you broke that sword in less than a day.”

He laughed. “Not yet. I brought you some material for putting up with me. Also, it sounded like you were bored making simple swords. Some of these are rather rare. I could probably sell these, but you’re one of the better-skilled blacksmiths I’ve seen, so I figured you’d make good use out of them.”

Her nerves wavered, and she smiled a little.

He returned a smile. “You look better with a smile.”

She quickly scowled at him, and he laughed.

“I wanted to watch you work. I can put these away for you.”

“I can’t get rid of you, anyway… c’mon in.”

He started to sort out his inventory bag and organize where he put things. She got curious and went for his sword while his hands were full.

“What are you doing?” He moved around.

She went for his sword again.

“Your swords to make are over there, this one's fine.”

He danced around as she chased him, but in his spin, she grabbed the handle and pulled it out. She saw the damage done to it and glared at him, while he grinned sheepishly.

“I told you it wasn’t broken.”

Dawn tossed it and slid another in the sheath, pointed at him as a warning, and went back to work. Even with the ventilation, the space was hot. The constant searing heat wasn’t something he was used to. He made himself cope with it, while she casually worked and smoked on her pipe.

“It’s really hot in here!” He fanned his shirt.

She looked at him suffering, and smiled. “It has to be.” With the pipe in her mouth. “You can step outside and watch from there, if ya want.”

“No… it’s like battling a long winded fire breathing beast.”

“One that never shuts its maw… like you?”

“Funny.”

“I thought it was. Losing the shirt might help.”

“You’d like that. I’m not trying to distract you.”

She looked at him.

“Now who’s the jester?”

“Always you, Lazarus.”

“That’s—oi!”

She laughed.

“If you can wear a shirt, so can I.”

“I have some resistance to fire.”

“How? You’re human, how do you have that?”

“I just… I just do.”

She still sweated; it dripped from her onto the blade, each drop left a ripple before it sizzled. He watched her forge several swords, then move on to making the cross guards, pommels, and handles.

“I guess you’re really strong to keep breaking swords,” she asked.

“I need to be. For the sake of our people. I am pretty high ranking, the men look up to me.”

She nodded.

“I’m not breaking them all by myself, however. You should see who we stand against. What brought you into blacksmithing?”

“I just… fell into it. I had to earn a living… didn’t have much of a choice.”

She thought back to that day, the last time she saw her father, when her whole family fell apart. He grew more corrupt along with his growth of power. He abandoned them. Her mother killed herself to suffer the shame no more. She, along with her brother, tracked him down on his latest adventuring quest and found he had messed with the wrong blacksmith. He denied them in his current rage. She tried to stop her brother, who brandished a sword out of anger. The fight was quick; her brother didn’t survive, her father barely. Then the wizard got in it, and the blacksmith took pity when her father turned on her adamant on forcing the wrong choice.

“You’ll love me and give me what I need! You’re my daughter! Dawn!”

“Dawn! Dawn! Oi, Dawn,” Lazarus shouted and shook her.

She snapped back and looked at him.

“Are you okay?”

She stood there, tool in hand. “Fine… I just—”

“Don’t bother explaining. If things are better now, leave it be.”

“Right. Th-thank you.”

“Being a knight is something of a family thing. I honestly fancy being an adventurer.”

Things were quiet for a moment, she grabbed a bottle of mead, and had been drinking it to calm down.

“Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t had time with all the swords you keep breaking.”

She felt too much time had passed sense he said anything, he had been too quiet, she looked over and he was gone. Eventually, she started to smell food, she walked in the house and found him cooking in her kitchen.

“Take a break.”

She rolled her eyes and walked away. Moments later, he brought her some food, took her tool, and handed her a fork.

“What is wrong with you? This is my house, let me work!”

“A weak body makes weak weapons.” He went back towards the kitchen.

“I’m not weak, and if you break that sword, I’ll break you!”

“Do you promise?”

She watched him walk away and gawked at the food. She grabbed the fork and took a bite.

“Damn… It’s good. Why is it so good?”

He returned with food himself and one of her bottles of mead.

——

Dawn waited for him to come in; that dinner was still on her mind, and his overall treatment of her, she wondered why she couldn’t scare him away, why he wouldn’t just keep things professional. She’d started to be too curt with him, started to enjoy his company; nothing she did or said deterred him. The moment he walked in, she strutted quickly up to him and snatched his sword, before he could speak, and handed him another.

“I guess the fight's back on?” She walked back to the forge.

“Yes… It is.”

“Well, hurry up and break that one.”

He was speechless for a moment. “Didn’t you promise to break me?”

“I did, but I did not. Have this feeling that you would like it far too much.”

He laughed. “Perhaps… but you would like it too much, as well, wouldn’t you?”

Dawn picked up a decent sized hammer and looked at him. Lazarus quickly dashed out when she flung it at him. When she went to retrieve it from her yard, she couldn’t help but smile at him as he kept going. Back inside, she was a bit disappointed that he didn’t stick around and bother her. She laughed at the idea of actually wanting to be bothered by him. Called herself crazy.

——

A few days passed, and each day the forge started to feel different; she couldn’t put her finger on it. Many people seemed to think she had changed, and wondered where he was. She knew what he was doing, so she didn’t need hope that he would return; she knew he would be back as soon as he broke another sword. She went to the pub one night.

“Haven’t seen that Lazarus fellow who always annoys ya.”

“He’ll be back as soon as he breaks that sword.”

“It looks like you’re enjoying his company.”

She just sipped her drink.

“He seems like an odd fellow… odd enough that he just might be breaking then just to see you.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d be so mad if that’s why he does it.”

“Ya sure about that? Or is any reason a good reason fer him to visit?”

“Now look here!” She grew flustered.

The man just laughed.

Lazarus came back the next day looking a bit worn.

She walked up with a new sword. “You’re pushing it, you know that? Pushing my skills to try and make a sword you won’t break.”

“I must be special.”

“You'd better have the money to pay this debt.”

“I will. You seem to be enjoying your work more than when we first met.”

“I’ve always liked my work.” She turned and stretched. “I’m getting hungry.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I just don’t have time to cook.”

He just stared at her, and she couldn’t hide her smirk.

“It should be the woman’s job to cook.”

“And a man should be at the forge… yet… here we are, both being blasphemous.”

He laughed. “I’m cooking, so I’m forging dinner.”

“That wasn’t forging,” she said with a laugh.

“It is. There are materials, tools, and fire. Tools prep the material; food, fire to temper it correctly as a weapon crafted to fight hunger.”

She chuckled. “What a fool.”

“Tell me I lie.”

“If anything, it would be more akin to a potion than a weapon.

They talked as they ate, and she found that she really did enjoy his company.

“How did you learn to cook so well?”

“Watching those better than me… learning from those who are much worse.”

“What could they teach you?”

“What not to do. Traveling, if you know where to look, you can find the herbs and spices fresh. I’ve collected and traded them for a quick lesson.”

“I’m not that great of a cook. Most of the time, I just eat elsewhere. It’s nice to have a home-cooked meal.”

“And fancy wine.” He pulled out the bottle he bought days ago.

“You still have that?”

“I didn’t want to drink it alone.”

“But you have the others, and I’m sure friends with whom to share it.”

“I wanted to share it with somebody… special. I can drink anything with those knaves.”

“Me? I’m not…”

He was already in the process of opening it, the cork popped out, and he took a whiff.

“Ever have this before?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not exactly a noble.”

He handed it to her. “Have at it.”

“Really?”

He wiggled the bottle some, she took it and had a swig, handed it back, he took a drink.

“I see why people like it so much,” he said.

“You’re a knight, you’re used to this.”

“Not really my style. Everything about a knight seems glamorous, except actually doing the job.”

“There is that risk of death.”

Aye… there’s that. I haven’t found the glamour in death.”

“Do you really want to know how I became a blacksmith?”

“Only if you want me to know.”

“I didn’t have a great life as a child. It should’ve been, but my father left us, and my mother killed herself because of it. We went to find him… my brother and I. He disowned us, even killed my brother.”

Lazarus scowled.

“My father became an adventurer; he was obsessed. He did it for the money, so we could have a good life, but lost his way in greed… fame… whatever else he sought. He started to change; we were no longer important. It was greed of money, power. His reputation grew worse and brought us shame. My mother was too stressed bearing all of it. We all did. She killed herself as she started to grow mad. When we found him, my brother set out to fight him to avenge what he ruined and left behind. He used the sword my father threw down, displeased with the blacksmith who made it. Said it wasn’t strong enough. My brother ran him through, and with another sword, my father did the same. That blacksmith took me in under him.”

“That’s tragic. It must be… difficult… recanting that.”

She nodded. “I see a lot of my father in repugnant men. Arrogant men.”

“Do you see him in me?”

“I do. The way you seem to chase power like you’re hungry for it. Strength and power be your life goal. And my father, before he lost his way.”

“I hope I don’t turn out that way. I don’t want to.”

“You don’t?”

“I can’t stand arrogant knights, adventurers. I want to fight so I won’t need to, so we can have peace. Now I know you would be disappointed… I can’t have you hurt by my own actions.”

She grabbed the bottle and drank from it. “You’d better not. I’m  starting to like you, but I don’t want it to be a waste of my time.” She grimaced.

“I can understand how hard it must be to be nice and smile here and there.” He took the wine and drank some.

She reached for a mallet, he grabbed it and handed her the wine in trade.

“I can tell you’re tough, you don’t need to keep proving it.”

“I need to make sure you don’t forget.”

“I won’t, and I like that you are tough. It takes the right man to handle you.”

She glared at him.

“What I mean is, you’re no damsel, you can handle yourself.”

She took a long drink, handed it to him. “I don’t need a man.”

“Aye, I figure if you ever had a man, it was because you wanted him, not from needing. He would be a lucky fellow.”

“Here you are… in my life and unwanted here,” she retorted.

He almost choked on the wine as he chuckled. “That’s because I am no ordinary man.”

“What kind of man are you?”

“A lucky one.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to repress a smile. And seemingly talking more to herself than him, said, “No matter how mean I am to you, you just kept taking it.”

He smiled. “Because sometimes whimsy is all one has to brighten up the dark.” He took a drink and gave it back.

She drank. “Some don’t have that. They linger in the dark, search for slivers of light, or run from them, for they’re blinding. The darks all they know. Comfort in some sick way, even if they feel trapped.”

“Here you are trying to cast away shadows… how blinding is it?”

“Not so much, but it’s still hard to see.”

It was late, she didn’t want to end on a somber note, or say goodbye, but she was tired.

“I’ll see you in a few days to exchange your sword again?”

He laughed. “I promise to break it and rush right over.”

She laughed.

“Did you ever actually fix my actual sword?”

She looked back at the house. “It’s around here.”

“Guess I’ll keep needing loaners until then. Good night, Dawn.”

“Good night… Lazarus.”

She lay in bed and wondered what would happen if they fell in love, worse, if she did, and he didn’t.

“I can’t do it. I need to tell him he needs another blacksmith… I can’t take the risk.”

As she slept, her body started to have a dull glow; she winced from the pain, but didn’t wake.