Once upon a time, there was an out of the way village that once lacked a blacksmith...
By now this was old, outdated news. About a month ago, Joshua had arrived at the village gates, offering services for food and lodging. He had only meant to stay a few days, reparing things for free in exchange but it turned out their last smith had died the year prior leaving the villagers with significantly more need than he had expected. Days quickly turned to weeks and the blacksmith had still not left. Instead, he had moved into the smithy, taking over the duties of the former mistress.
This afternoon, Joshua had deliveries to make. Clad in his thick jack, the smith took up his walking stave, a prop used with a false limp to keep people from asking why he did not go to war with other men his age. Taking a basket full of steel, he stepped outside. Passing his Ox, he nodded to her as she ate from a pile of straw. She was named Dylan, and she had been a trusted pack animal for much of his journey and a consistent source of rich milk since she calved two months back. Not for the first time, the young fugitive wondered if he'd be in deeper trouble if people found out he was a mage or if they found out that Dylan was stolen...
The first delivery was a sack of nails to the carpenter. In return, the sunbrowned lady passed him a couple of large cabbages from her garden. A brief "thank you" was all he said before moving to his next, a young, pretty farmer who had asked for a length of chain for moving stones from her field. Joshua knocked at the door and the pretty young woman answered. Her name was Matilda, and she had her blonde hair down loose.
"Hello Joshua," she said smiling. She had dimples, her pretty face even cuter by their presence.
The smith offered the chain with no fanfair, "Your order, Miss Matilda." His eyes drifted to her hand as she accepted, though as he looked up, he lingered on her bosom, wondering for a moment...before his eyes moved back to her face.
"I've told you before, Joshua, just 'Matilda' or 'Mati' is fine." And she had, several times. But while he may have wanted that closeness, the risk was too great. He would have to run again, eventually. Best not leave her with baggage...
"I prefer Miss Matilda. Have a good afternoon." With that, he turned and left.
The deliveries went by quickly and by the end, he had ingredients for a hardy vegetable stew which he would eat for dinner. He then headed back to his hovel.
