An outside staircase led me to the top of the forge where I found the blacksmith waiting for me.He opened the door, and I followed him inside.
An old square table and two bowed chairs were in the middle of the room.The blacksmith bent to inspect the worn chairs, finding one broken but the other sound.He straightened and scowled at the offending furniture.
I shrugged.‘I don’t need two chairs.’
I patted the lumpy but adequate straw mattress and went to the corner where an old stove stood.A pot rested on top that I could use to cook and heat water in.Across the room, faded blue curtains adorned a small window that overlooked the street.Under it was a large chest where I placed my things before inspecting the smallerroom.It also had a bed in one corner and another window, which looked at the fortress gates.I could make out two figures standing guard at the entrance.
Under the window was a small table with a washbowl and a jug.Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, which would easily wipe away with some elbow grease.
I rolled up my sleeves, ready to work on what would be my home for a time.
The blacksmith shook his head.‘These rooms are a mess.Are you sure … ?’
I nodded.
‘I’ll fetch some water and rags,’ he muttered before leaving the room.
We got to work removing years of dust.The blacksmith fixed the broken chair with a few well-placed nails.He kindly brought me wood for a fire despite my assurance that I could make do with cold water for one night.He insisted and had a fire in the little stove going and water warming in no time.
While sweeping the floor, the sunset’s warm glow through the window made the rooms feel cosy.
The blacksmith returned with his arms filled with fresh linens and a down pillow.
‘I don’t need any of this,’ I told him, even though the pillow would be far more comfortable than my bed roll.
He ignored my protests and placed a generous share of his cold supper on the freshly scrubbed table.
I hadn’t eaten since early that morning, and my mouth watered at the simple offering: a cold chicken leg, a thick slice of bread lathered in butter and a large red apple.
‘I think that will do you for the night.’He looked around the room.
‘Thank you for helping clean and for being so generous.’I rested my hand next to the supper plate he had placed on the well-scrubbed table.‘What’s your name?’I couldn’t keep calling him the blacksmith.
He leaned against the doorframe, peering at me through his thick lashes.‘Cillian Northwind.And what, may I ask, is your name?’
‘Caris Ironside.’
‘Goodnight, Caris,’ he said, the rolled r sending a shiver down my spine.He closed the door quietly, and I stared at it until my stomach growled, reminding me of the food he had left for me.
†
The next morning, I rose early and dressed for a day working in the forge.I washed my face with the water above the cold fireplace and brushed my teeth with the paste I always kept in my satchel.Before leaving the room, I put on my fingerless leather gloves that allowed me to work but protected my palms.They also covered the old scars that were an ugly reminder of the darkest night of my life.
I went to the stable to check on Nightmare and found Cillian feeding her an apple.The blacksmith quite literally had my horse eating out of his hand.
‘Good morning.’He greeted me with a smile.‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes.Thank you.’I had slept very well.There had been no nightmares, no waking up and struggling to go back to sleep because of memories that always seemed to find me in the middle of the night.
‘Here, I made you a drink.’He handed me a clay mug filled with a muddy-looking hot liquid.
I looked at him curiously, but he just smiled and gestured for me to try it.The smell was strong and unfamiliar.It wasn’t unpleasant, so I took a sip.It was bitter but not awful.
He chuckled at my expression and grabbed a small jug perched on the wall.‘Here, you might prefer it with milk.’
I held out the mug to him, and he poured a generous amount of milk into it.He gestured for me to try again.I took a small sip and then another.It was only mildly bitter now, and the milk added a creaminess, which I enjoyed.I could feel its warmth moving through me already.
This might just be my new favourite drink.‘What is this?’
