Auburon runs a tight ship and likes to start his smithing early in the morning. Which is a bit chilly this early in the spring, but the fires of the forge quickly push away any chill in the air. The forge sits on a deck attached to his house, and from inside comes the smell of fresh baked bread, obviously Tahra’s work.
He was more than happy to take on Cordenia when she came to ask for an appentiship and while he is a good teacher he is very particular in the way he does things. A tall man with large muscles, his salt and pepper hair is already matted to his head from sweat as he takes a hammer to a new sword he’s been working on.
Cordenia was up bright and early to see to it that everything was ready: hot fires, quenching barrels filled and ready to go, ingots stocked and stacked. She herself has been tap-tap-tapping away at a shield go to with the sword. Work that isn’t as precise as what he’s doing, but…it’s shaping up, and she’s looking pretty satisfied with the results. She has no problems with precision or with hard work. She rarely says much; just quietly and responsibly does whatever she can. When she does speak, it’s usually to ask a relevant question. Still, these two have become her second family. Tahra shares her love for the Moon goddess, Auburon teaches her a trade, and she’s shared many a meal with them.
Auburon sets the sword down to cool, reaching for a near by rag to sweep the sweat off of his brow. Coming over to peek at her work, he’ll smirk down at her and hold out his hand. “Why don’t you let me look that over while you go and get us some of that herb bread from Tahra. The damned woman knows how to torment my stomach.” His accent has always been misplaed in Squall’s End, it sounds like it comes from the Eastern part of the Kingdom, but neither he, nor Tahra have ever talked about their time before arriving in town a few decades before.
Cordenia never asked. But she does smirk. “We can’t have you hammering your own finger off because of smells,” she agrees. She goes to wash her own face and hands—she’d never enter Tahra’s kitchen dirty—and heads inside to go see about getting some of that bread. “Our stomaches are rumbling,” she informs the woman solemnly. “I just saw your husband try to eat his hammer. I sure hope some of that bread isr eady.”
“I haven’t hammered my finger in years Cordenia.” Auburon says with a broad smile that shows off his laugh lines. While she cleans up and slips off, he inspects the shield that she’s working on, bringing it over to the early morning sun to get a proper look at her work.
The inside of the Everdair house has always been warm and welcoming. The wood furniture is covered with plush cusions and warm furs and the sun beams into the room giving it a lot of natural light. Tahra is busting about her kitchen, finishing up the rest of breakfast, laying out some bacon on heavy wooden plates. “You know that if I didn’t make the food smell amazing, he would stay out there all day and not eat. He isn’t working you too hard is he?” She says with her normal motherly concern that she exudes.
The work is solid. To a master’s eye there is plenty of room for improvement, but there aren’t any flaws that would make the piece unusuable. Inside, Cordenia laughs. “Not at all. I like the work. Same as he does I imagine.” If she didn’t like it, she’d do something else, simple as that. Life’s too short for anything else. “But he did ask me to take him a plate.”
“He has always been someone who needs to get in and get his hands dirty.” Tahra says as she tears off large hunks of the herb bread for Cordenia and Auburon. Above them, the thumping sound of feet getting out of bed signals that Arannah has finally been awakened by the same bread smell, however knowing the young woman, it’ll be a while before she comes downstairs. “Well why don’t you go ahead and run this out to him before he has to buy a new hammer.”
Cordenia chuckles and says, “Say hi to Ara for me, when she’s up.” She takes the plates and heads back outside. Solemnly again: “I had to wheedle this bread out of her you know. She didn’t want to give you any.” She’s teasing of course. Maybe she really has gotten more comfortable with the family of late.
“I’m sure she’ll at least pause to say good morning on her way out and about. She told me was going to go out in the woods again.” Tahra says in a tone that suggest she doesn’t approve of Ara going out on her own but knows it’s too much of a battle to suggest that she doesn’t.
When Cordenia walks outside, she’ll see a familiar wolf sitting at the foot of the stairs. Ara calls the wolf Whisper and she seems to be aptly named since she did not make a single sound on her way here. The wolf simply looks at Cordenia and gives a lazy yawn, but doesn’t go after the food, she seems to be waiting for Ara.
“Don’t tell me she believes I am getting fat again.” Auburon says jovialy as he washes himself up and settles leans against a work table that is mostly clear of work. “You’re progressing on the shield.” He says brightly. “You just need to distribute the weight a little more so your arm doesn’t get fatigued when you carry it.”
“Yessir,” Cordenia says, though it’s around a mouthful of bread. She’s hungry too. She raises her hand in greeting to the wolf, just sort of acting like he’s another person, but leaves it at that. turns her mind to the problem of distributing the weight on that shield. She wants to make a similar one for her brother.
“Just reheat it and bang it out from the middle and you should be good.” Auburon says in a simliar matter, deciding to eat and discuss work at the same time. “I might need your help this week, we have a to make a little more inventory before the Moon festival this weekend. I’d like to have a good stall this year and I think you’ve worked hard enough to sell a few pieces on your own. What do you think?”
“I’d love that,” Cordenia says, swallowing quickly so the sincerity isn’t lost in a muffle of bread. She springs to start reheating the piece, even though there are still a few bites left on her plate. She’s feeling even more motivated now. “What do you want to focus on? More weapons and armor, or more pots and kitchen stuff?”
“Where’s the fire Cordenia, your bacon is getting cold.” Auburon says with a smirk but is glad to see that she has the fire to keep going, so he wont’ stop her. “Daggers. They’re simple and you’re able to make a good amount of them in a short amount of time. Now I don’t want you ot rush, and I expect them to be a good quality or i won’t put them in the stall. But if they sell well, You’ll get to keep some of the profit.”
She slows down a little…or at least appears to. Really, on reheating, there’s no way to go fast. “I won’t rush,” she assures him. And then: “Bacon’s good hot or cold. I’ll finish eating when I’ve got this shield rebalanced.” She’s humming a little. With a little profit, she could easily make her brother his shield, plus bring a little home to the family.
“Good.” Auburon says with a smirk as he finishes up his breakfast. He’ll let her work on the sheild before he goes back to the sword, falling into that quiet lull of work. About a half hour later is when Arannah finally emerges from the house. She has her blonde hair braided to be out of her hair and her sky blue cloak over her shoulders.
“Morning Papa, Cordenia. I hope Whisper stayed away from your plates. I warned her that she shouldn’t eat off people’s plates.” She says in her normal beaming tone. It’s almost too perky for this hour but she tones it down for those who have been working all morning.
Rane – Last Sunday at 8:35 PM
“She stayed well clear of mine, even when I didn’t finish. Did you sleep well?” By now Cordenia actually has a moment to wrap the bacon in the rest of the bread and finish it off. She’s gotten the shield where it ought to be, and has set the piece aside to cool.
“Than she’s learning well.” Ara says reaching down to pet the silver wolf’s head. She’ll reach down and give Whisper a bit of bacon and nod. “The Moon blessed me with many dreams last night, but much like Mother suggested I wrote them down. Sadly I don’t understand them but I hope one day I will.” She says brightly. “What are you working on today?” She says with interest.
“Just finished up a shield. Going to work on daggers for the festival this afternoon.” Cordenia studies the woodswoman as she solemnly puts the last few crumbs into her mouth. Then she walks over to choose a few good ingots for her next project. “What did you dream, Ara?” She takes such things quite seriously, after all.
“You should still have a few afternoons before the festival, unless I’ve slept too long again.” Ara says with a bright laugh, though when she asks about the dreams she’ll lean in and lower her voice not letting it carry over her father’s hammering.
“I dreamt of running through the forest. First on two legs, than on four. I ran until my lungs burned, but each breath I inhaled felt of a bright spring. My legs melded into my body and I grew wings, and I flew through the branches and up into the clouds. Above them there was no sun, there was no moon, only stars. Bright beautiful stars that lit my path into the heavens. Just when I felt as if I would reach some sort of elightenment, I awoke. Blame mothers bread I suppose.” She says as she pushes her hair out of her face. “It’s all very strange isn’t it?”
“I couldn’t begin to say what it might mean,” Cordenia admits. She’s found the steel she wants, and she pauses to saw it to about the correct length. Then, she finds the dagger pattern. There’s very little hammering for a dagger, as it turns out. It’s more about shaping and filing. She pulls a bit of xantham gum out and chews it so she can temporarily affix the pattern to the steel. “Perhaps only that you’ve a wish to fly, and Edalwen was of a mind to grant it in the Dream Country.”
“I also have the wish to swim as a fish, I hope I will be granted that dream next.” Ara has been known to have her head in the clouds so perhaps the dream was about that. “That was nice of her, I should thank her some how.” While not unheard of, Ara has yet to pledge herself to one god or the other, but seems to at least respect both of them. “I wish you luck on your daggers, Whisper and I have things to do before the sun sets.”
“Have fun out there,” Cordenia says, neither ruffled by flightiness or flights of fancy. Nor on her odd habits of running off to the forest. She clamps the dagger-in-progress to a work table and takes up the hacksaw again to begin a rough cut, getting as close to the shape as she can. After all, she’s much to accomplish as well. If she works slow and careful and keeps the quality up she could have three done by sunset.