Slag and Steel

[Foxy]

He could almost see her standing there in her wherhide riding pants and tight sleeveless tunic. Sweat dripped between her full breasts….

“Ouch, shards and shells!”

Drawing his hand to his mouth and uttering a stream of curses the dark haired candidate dropped the hot tongs back into the forge fire. “Sweet Faranth. That was bloody hot.” Kenwyn eyed the offending tools with disdain. He knew he shouldn’t have been day dreaming but the task the Weyrsmith had set before him was less than engaging.


With a brief sigh, Kenwyn bent his head low over the steel, eying the edge he was slowing cajoling out of the half cool metal. With a pump of his foot he had the coal burning bright again as he plunged the makings of a hide scrapper back into the forge. He set the tongs down, waiting, working the billows now and again… he would be at this task until supper more than like. The Weyrsmith had known what he was about… Kenwyn wasn’t so stupid to not know he was given this to keep him busy and out of his hair. Where was it he had said he was going?

[menta]

Brook dragged her fet slightly as she entered the smithy. She ws lugging several jugs of water and an assortment of foods. This was drudge work it was, delivering meals to the crafstations. But S'mael certainly had it in for her. And with her recent punishment, she had better not step a toe out of line. Well, fortuanately this was her lasat stop than she could have a bit herself. "Oy." She said loudly to alert whoever might be in the smithy at the time. "Food and drink from the kitchens." She announced, her tone rather bored.

She set the two food baskets next to her and the water jugs in her lap one she'd sat down in the corner, waiting for any takers. She had a short break...and then it was the latrines, than delviering for supper, than she had a few candlemarks sleep before having stable duty in the morning. She hadn't even had time to sketch the last few days. Flame Tujal for getting her into this.

[Foxy]

Hearing voices, Kenwyn stopped the working of the billows. It hadn’t sounded like the blusterous baritone of his keeper though. Using a glove to handle the tongs this time, the brown eyed young man pulled his project from the hottest part of the fire before poking his head around the corner and into the outter most part of the smithy.

“Aye, food then Lady Brook?” The dark haired rogue’s face lit up when he saw the gold candidate. “Didn’t know they had you playing at drudge though.” He took a step out, slapping his blackened hands against his wherhide apron.

[brimstone81]

G'del walked in then, and breathed in deeply. He did not exactly miss those fumes. But at the same time, he did. He did not hate his work as his father had, and while the highest he ever had risen was journeyman-barely at that. He could still feel that hammer in his hands and feel the heat upon his cheeks. His eyes narrowed and they fell upon two candidates. One was that little minx Brook. Clever woman, or at least a bold one. She was stealthy and a trickster, he grinned. Might make a man run for his money one day. His eyes then looked at the young man at the hearth. A tall lad he was, and perhaps ten turns his junior. Walking past Brook, he came close as he dared to the hearth and said with a friendly grin, "What are you workin' on, young sir?"

[menta]

She raised an eyebrow at her fellow candidate, "Lady Brook hunh? Quite fancy Sir Kenwyn." She grinned at him and rolled her eyes. "It's S'mael of course. And all because that d**n Tujal decided to pick a fight with me." She shook her head, but enough with that. "So we have some meat and tuber rolls. soudns delicious hunh?" She picked a couple out and laid them next to a jug of water.

"So what are you working at here?" She asked, eyeing the smithy. She flipped her red hair behind her shoulder and waited for Kenwyn to take his pick of food. She looked up, oh it was G'del. "Hello Bronzer." She smiled, greeting the dragonman.

[brimstone81]

He turned to her and gallantly smiled, "Hello yourself, queenie." While she wasn't a queenrider yet, he knew she wanted to be one, and hoped it might please her. He hadn't thought of calling her, 'queenie hopeful.' Didn't have quite the same ring. Wasn't sure if queenie even fit the young gold candidate, but it had already escaped his lips. He absently tugged at his tunic collar because of the heat. He had come to visit the smithy and to see if he could do some work one day, but he was finding very quickly that he was not dressed appropriatly. Several turns of absense would do that to a man-create him unprepared in a world that was once his own. Maybe he should take Ruet's words to heart and make sure that his education wasn't a total waste.

He looked back at the forge and nodded his head. "Still, this is looking fine."

[Foxy]

A half grin teased at his lips even as he felt the tips of his ears blush a bright red. Brook was more than lovely, and he knew she knew it.

Making a face as Brook mentioned tubers, Kenwyn instead grabbed up a meat roll shoving it into his mouth. “I didn’t know it was all Lady Tujal’s faul...” He swallowed hard trying to empty his mouth quickly when he noticed the bronze rider, when it finally registered that he was talking to him, Kenwyn. “Ach, not much Lord G’del. Just a hide scrapper for the tanner, seems the old one won’t hold an edge any longer.” The candidate looked longing at the food brought and then edged away, back toward the forged. “What can I be doing for you Lord.”

[brimstone81]

"Oh nothing really, lad. Perhaps you could tell me who is incharge of this place. I should like to make myself a new decorated knife one of these days." He said, letting his eyes wander and making the place familiar. He slowly walked around and touched the surface of a work bench. Rough in some spots, smooth in others. He looked at some tools that were laying about, they must be what Kenwyn was working with, a well run smithy would be organized. Alas, if they were being used, he had nothing to complain about. Everything else seemed to be in neat order at this time. He snapped to attention, and looked back at the candidates. "I do not believe I caught your name, young sir,"

[menta]

She made a face, "Well i don't know how she took it the wrong way. Her darling love, I'slen was just escorting me back to my barrack...in nothing but a sheet." She laughed a little. It had been funny until S'mael had put her on serious probation. "Queenie hunh?" She agnowledged G'del. "Well i dunno if i'm still even allowed to stand, but the thought's nice."

She gave Kenwyn a teasing hit on the shoulder, "There's no need to be so formal. No Lords or Ladies needed." She shook her head at him. The smithing talk just went in one ear and out the other, she was more just considering the two men around her, pleased that her task was now done.

[brimstone81]

"I'm sure you'll stand, but I won't be the one to vouche for you," He laughed, "I'd rather not confront S'mael on his terms. Makes me glad I Impressed at Southern." He toyed with a hammer. It was heavy, not balanced, but hammers seldom were. They weren't swords for shell's sake. He swung the hammer this way and that, as if getting back on a bicyle for the first time in years. While G'del kept his muscling with the occasional work out, he could tell that he would be much more buff if he took his old craft up again.

Just make sure you still have time for me. Solarith noted smugly. He knew His well enough that once something caught his eye, he must obsess over it a little bit before moving on. The bronze was laid out on his ledge, sunning his nose, for he wash mostly under the covering of his weyr, and only his face basked in the sun's glorious rays.

I would never forget you, my love. It was rare for G'del to say those words, and when he did, he really meant it and said it with emotion, just like he said the pet name right now. Solarith was his life, and the only thing that mattered to him right now.

[Foxy]

The candidate nearly snorted when he heard Brook’s words. He’d only thought the guys had been exaggerating what had happened. With a only half hooded look Kenwyn let his eyes travel up and down the red head before settling on her breasts for a moment longer than curtsey deemed proper. ‘Faranth’s Sake. He envied Master I’slen’

“Kenwyn, Lord. Candidate from the Smith Hall.” The young man shifted his feet, watching with a prideful eye as the bronze rider looked over the Weyrsmith’s Forge. “It would be Master Smith Maclen. So you have the Smithing training then?” Kenwyn folded his arms over his chest, enthralled by the chance the bronze rider might have had a start much like himself. He would clutch at any hope.

[menta]

Brook noticed Kenwyn looking but didn't midn and just pushed out her chest a little further. She snorted at G'del. She was almost tired of talking aboti S'mael...he was such a jerk. Well she'd need someone to vouch for her...which when she went through the list of ranking riders in her mind meant she had to make some new ranking friends. So G'del was a smith too hunh...nice arms those smiths had.

Well now that she had soem free time, she should do what she always did. She flipped open her bulding sketch book and began to sketch the interior of the smithy briefly. She was an excellant multitasker, at least when it came to sketching anyways. So she coudl draw and pay attention to nay covnersation without missing a beat. Turns of practice that was.

[brimstone81]

G'del turned to look at Kenwyn, "Aye, I do, a good number of turns, too. I had just walked the tables when I left for the Weyr, and not shortly after I Impressed. I'm not nearly as good as I should have been, but enough to get by." He paused, Kenwyn did not seem so different as himself at that age. He leaned against a work bench, "I put in nine turns at the Smith Hall. Good responsibility, that's what you get from a hall. Glad to hear candidates are still getting a craft education. I like to hear that."

[Foxy]

Kenwyn’s ears lit up a bright red yet again as he noticed the gold candidate’s gesture, she was the worst flirt. ‘Good Faranth, it’s a boon she is in the Weyr and not my hold. Mam would skin her. She’d skin me for looking at her.’ It took much effort to drag his eyes away from her and listen to the words of the bronze rider.

“Heldan was my Master. Before I left he told me several riders had come from the Smith Hall.” The candidate felt a swell of pride hit him. “I’m not sure where Master Maclen has gone too, I’ll let him know you have need of the forge though Lord.”

[brimstone81]

G'del nodded, seemingly very serious, "Good. I'm glad to hear it." The young man seemed trustworthy, and G'del had a slight bias to the smith craft even though he left on less than happy terms. In fact it was down right dramatic when he left, but that was mostly thanks to Yazil, not him. G'del kept his anger in silence. Yazil was just a smart alec. He folded his arms, more interested in the actual work room than Brook's lovely melons.

"I have heard of Heldan, however I did not usually answer directly to him. I answered to that old coot named Norvan. He's probably dead by now..." Norvan had been pretty close to the top at the hall and G'del once favored the man, but after what Norvan said about his father, his opinion of the old smith was forever tainted. In truth, Norvan might have still been working when Kenwyn was there, the smith was probably in his late fifties. Old enough. "Maclen," he said quietly, trying to remember that name for future reference. "Maclen," While it was not familiar, he would make it so that he could speak to the man soon and not be embarassed by saying the wrong name.