Thorne shoved the hot metal back into the fire, working the billows with his free hand. He had a cold gaze as he stared at the flames licking the glowing rod of iron. He was having a bad day. He had ripped his favorite pair of pants and would need to mend them or go into town to get them mended. He had cracked his last sword for a very well paying client and this was him redoing his work. He had a day set back because of this. Just because he tripped on a loose board in his shop. He was ready for today to be over with. He still needed to start dinner and place flowers outback. Tomorrow was the anniversary of her death and he wanted to make sure he took the day off.
He took the mess of iron back to his work bench and began to reshape his sword. Swing after swing drained him of his frustrations. Getting lost in his craft that he knew since he was a child. He took great please of the his of hot metal in oil and water. He took even greater please as the sparks flew from the wetting stone wheel as the blade took form under his hands. The gleam of his new metal mixture sparkled in the sunlight that struck through the open air shop. The smell of hot metal and smoke filled his nose and calmed his nerves. He was happily lost in his work. Delicately covering the hilt in little carved deigns. Maybe today would not be as bad as he originally complained about.
